Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 55: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

42 —_— “Ah! she is dead?” ejaculated the Marshal: and then in a profoundly mournful tone, he said, “I comprehend you, Joseph—you fear that my grandson’s brain is unsettled. That apprehension likewise fills my own mind. A watch must be kept upon him: but yet he himself must remain unconscious of it. Time perhaps will heal the wounds which these terrific calamities haye in- flicted ¥ “Think you, Monsieur le Comte,” I asked, “that it is wise and prudent for the Duke to re- main beneath this roof ?” “TI have already spoken to him upon the sub- ject—but he has given me no decisive answer. To-morrow he will visit the family vault in which his mother’s remains are deposited; and he ex- pressed his resolve to follow those of his father to the grave. Afterwards I will bear him away with me to my owh countfy-seat; and it is my wish that you should remain attached to his service— for he has conceived & friendship for you.” I could offer no objection: for whatever my own inclinations might have been, I dared not think of abandoning the unfortunate young Duke under existing eiréumstanees. The Matshal said that he should endeavour to make some arrangement by which my own sleéping-chamber should be near that of his grandson} and he left me for the pur- pose of rejoining him in the drawing-room where I had left him. But in the evening the Marshal took an opportunity of speaking to me again. “T informed my grandson,” he said, “ that you had consented. to remain attached to his person. 1] suggested a8 delicately as possible that it would p'rhaps be as Well if he chose an apartment to which an ante-chamber is attached,—so that you might oceupy the latter: but he expressed his in- tention to retain the room which has always been his own within the walls of this mansion. There is a bed-chamber underneath it; and this I should recommend you to take as your quarters. I know that with the good feeling you entertain towards my unhappy grandson, it is not too much to ask you to sit up and listen attentively during the earlier part of the night,—so that if you should hear him pacing overhead in an agitated manner, you could go up to him on some pretence—you might do your best to console him—or you could come and arouse me.” I promised to do what the Marshal requested at my hands; and I repaired to the servants’ hall to inform one of the housemaids that I was to occupy the particular chamber which has just been men- tioned. No one had slept there for a considerable time; and the housemaid informed me that there were no draperies to the bed—that it was too late in the evening to put them up—but that on the morrow the chamber should be restored to its wonted state of comfort. I assured her that I eared nothing for the absence of the draperies; and as the bell now rang to give the signal that the Duke de Paulin was about to retire, I hastened up-stairs to attend upon him. On join- ing the young nobleman in his own chamber, I found that his look and manner were still full of that strange vacancy which had so much shocked and alarmed me on my return with the intelligence of Eugenie’s death. I endeavoured to give the conversation such a turn as to enable me to ex- patiate upon the necessity of human beings arm- —_—- eS eee JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. ing themselves with all becoming fortitude to meet and endure whatsoever inflictions it might please heaven to send upon their heads. The young Duke listened—but not in the manner I could have wished ; and I was compelled to arrive at the painful conclusion that the influence which a few hours back I had succeeded in obtaining over him, was now completely gone. He spoke to me kindly—he regarded me with friendship—he would not permit me to perform a single menial office in. respect to his night-toilet: but he said nothing which enabled me to hope that my words produced a salutary effect upon his mind. When he was nearly disapparelled, he put on a dressing-gown and said, “I am going to sit up awhile, and look over some letters———they are Eugenie’s——ere I retire to rest.” | | “Will you permit me,” I asked, “to remain with you until you do think fit to seek your couch P” | “No,” rejoined the Duke: “it is unnecessary, Joseph—I would fain be alone. With these letters before me, I can fancy that I am communing with the spirit of my beloved Bugenie; and this de- lusion would not remain with me, unless I were altogether by myself. Go, my dear friend— and perhaps when you return to me in the morning - He stopped short; and I said, “ Yes—heaven grant that I may find you with a mind strength- ened—and if not consoled, at all events prepared to endure its burden with a becoming fortitude !” He shook hands with me; and I quitted the chamber. As I was descending the stairs, the Marshal beckoned me into his owh apartment, which was on the same floor as the room that I was to occupy. “ How seems my grandson now ?” inguired the veteran. ie “TI scarcely know what to think, Monsieur le Comte,” was myanuswer. “{ like not that strange despairing vacancy of look—that sélf-abandonment as it were to utter hopelessness. Would that I could see him weep bitterly and give way to the tide of affliction !—for all bis would relieve his heart. Or else I could wish that he exhibited a strong fortitude—or a true Christian resignation: but his mood evinces nothing of all this !” “What can we do, Joseph ?” said the Marshal. “To insist upon placing any one with him, would betray the apprehensions which we entertain, and perhaps have the effect of putting certain ideas into his own head. No—all that can be done is for you to listen, as I have suggested; and I do not no, I do not think that the poor boy will lay violent hands upon himself.” | I quitted the Marshal, and retired to my own chamber. I sate down and listened attentively; and during the first hour I every now and then heard the young Duke moving over head. Then, when the sounds kad ceased for some time, I crept noiselessly up the staircase—and listened at his door. At first the silence was so dead that a cold terror crept over me; and I cannot explain how immense was my relief when my ear caught the sounds of regular breathing from within. I con- tinued to listen with my own breath suspended ; and at length feeling convinced that the young Duke had retired to rest and was asleep, I stole down the stairs again. The Marshal appeared a s | Goo ks