White Lies [138]
to restrain his wrath. However, he showed himself worthy of the office he had undertaken. He contained himself, and submitted to argue the matter. "Why, colonel," said he, "is it such a misfortune to marry poor Rose? She is young, she is lovely, she has many good qualities, and she would have walked straight to the end of her days but for you."
Now here was another surprise for Dujardin, another mystification.
"Rose de Beaurepaire?" said he, putting his hand to his head, as if to see whether his reason was still there.
"Yes, Rose de Beaurepaire--Rose Dujardin that ought to be, and that is to be, if you please."
"One word, monsieur: is it of Rose we have been talking all this time?"
Raynal nearly lost his temper at this question, and the cold, contemptuous tone with which it was put; but he gulped down his ire.
"It is," said he.
"One question more. Did she tell you I had--I had"--
"Why, as to that, she was in no condition to deny she had fallen, poor girl; the evidence was too strong. She did not reveal her seducer's name; but I had not far to go for that."
"One question more," said Dujardin, with a face of anguish. "Is it Jos--is it Madame Raynal's wish I should marry her sister?"
"Why, of course," said Raynal, in all sincerity, assuming that naturally enough as a matter of course; "if you have any respect for HER feelings, look on me as her envoy in this matter."
At this Camille turned sick with disgust; then rage and bitterness swelled his heart. A furious impulse seized him to expose Josephine on the spot. He overcame that, however, and merely said, "She wishes me to marry her sister, does she? very well then, I decline."
Raynal was shocked. "Oh," said he, sorrowfully, "I cannot believe this of you; such heartlessness as this is not written in your face; it is contradicted by your past actions."
"I refuse," said Dujardin, hastily; and to tell the truth, not sorry to inflict some pain on the honest soldier who had unintentionally driven the iron so deep into his own soul.
"And I," said Raynal, losing his temper, "insist, in the name of my dear Josephine"--
"Perdition!" snarled Dujardin, losing his self-command in turn.
"And of the whole family."
"And I tell you I will never marry her. Upon my honor, never."
"Your honor! you have none. The only question is would you rather marry her--or die."
"Die, to be sure."
"Then die you shall."
"Ah!" said Dujardin; "did I not tell you we were wasting time?
"Let us waste no more then. WHEN and WHERE?"
"At the rear of the commander-in-chief's tent; when you like."
"This afternoon, then--at five."
"At five."
"Seconds?"
"What for?"
"You are right. They are only in the way of men who carry sabres; and besides the less gossip the better. Good-by, till five," and the two saluted one another with grim ceremony; and Raynal turned on his heel.
Camille stood transfixed; a fierce, guilty joy throbbed in his heart. His rival had quarrelled with him, had insulted him, had challenged him. It was not his fault. The sun shone bright now upon his cold despair. An hour ago life offered nothing. A few hours more, and then joy beyond expression, or an end of all. Death or Josephine! Then he remembered that this very Josephine wished to marry him to Rose. Then he remembered Raynal had saved his life. Cold chills crossed his breaking heart. Of all that could happen to him death alone seemed a blessing without alloy.
He stood there so torn with conflicting passions, that he noted neither the passing hours nor the flying bullets.
He was only awakened from his miserable trance by the even tread of soldiers marching towards him; he looked up and there were several officers coming along the edge of the trench, escorted by a corporal's guard.
He took a step or two to meet them. After the usual salutes, one of the three colonels delivered a large paper, with a large seal, to Dujardin. He read it out to his captains and lieutenants, who had assembled at sight of the cocked hats and full uniforms.
Now here was another surprise for Dujardin, another mystification.
"Rose de Beaurepaire?" said he, putting his hand to his head, as if to see whether his reason was still there.
"Yes, Rose de Beaurepaire--Rose Dujardin that ought to be, and that is to be, if you please."
"One word, monsieur: is it of Rose we have been talking all this time?"
Raynal nearly lost his temper at this question, and the cold, contemptuous tone with which it was put; but he gulped down his ire.
"It is," said he.
"One question more. Did she tell you I had--I had"--
"Why, as to that, she was in no condition to deny she had fallen, poor girl; the evidence was too strong. She did not reveal her seducer's name; but I had not far to go for that."
"One question more," said Dujardin, with a face of anguish. "Is it Jos--is it Madame Raynal's wish I should marry her sister?"
"Why, of course," said Raynal, in all sincerity, assuming that naturally enough as a matter of course; "if you have any respect for HER feelings, look on me as her envoy in this matter."
At this Camille turned sick with disgust; then rage and bitterness swelled his heart. A furious impulse seized him to expose Josephine on the spot. He overcame that, however, and merely said, "She wishes me to marry her sister, does she? very well then, I decline."
Raynal was shocked. "Oh," said he, sorrowfully, "I cannot believe this of you; such heartlessness as this is not written in your face; it is contradicted by your past actions."
"I refuse," said Dujardin, hastily; and to tell the truth, not sorry to inflict some pain on the honest soldier who had unintentionally driven the iron so deep into his own soul.
"And I," said Raynal, losing his temper, "insist, in the name of my dear Josephine"--
"Perdition!" snarled Dujardin, losing his self-command in turn.
"And of the whole family."
"And I tell you I will never marry her. Upon my honor, never."
"Your honor! you have none. The only question is would you rather marry her--or die."
"Die, to be sure."
"Then die you shall."
"Ah!" said Dujardin; "did I not tell you we were wasting time?
"Let us waste no more then. WHEN and WHERE?"
"At the rear of the commander-in-chief's tent; when you like."
"This afternoon, then--at five."
"At five."
"Seconds?"
"What for?"
"You are right. They are only in the way of men who carry sabres; and besides the less gossip the better. Good-by, till five," and the two saluted one another with grim ceremony; and Raynal turned on his heel.
Camille stood transfixed; a fierce, guilty joy throbbed in his heart. His rival had quarrelled with him, had insulted him, had challenged him. It was not his fault. The sun shone bright now upon his cold despair. An hour ago life offered nothing. A few hours more, and then joy beyond expression, or an end of all. Death or Josephine! Then he remembered that this very Josephine wished to marry him to Rose. Then he remembered Raynal had saved his life. Cold chills crossed his breaking heart. Of all that could happen to him death alone seemed a blessing without alloy.
He stood there so torn with conflicting passions, that he noted neither the passing hours nor the flying bullets.
He was only awakened from his miserable trance by the even tread of soldiers marching towards him; he looked up and there were several officers coming along the edge of the trench, escorted by a corporal's guard.
He took a step or two to meet them. After the usual salutes, one of the three colonels delivered a large paper, with a large seal, to Dujardin. He read it out to his captains and lieutenants, who had assembled at sight of the cocked hats and full uniforms.