The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 300: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 295 beneath you in education—beneath you in know- conduct for the future. For the poor ledge of the world———” “Stephanie, you will drive me mad!” cried Juices: for these were precisely the ideas which he did entertain in respect to his wife, but which nevertheless he could not bear to have so forcibly brought to his mind, and by that very wife herself. ‘You must not talk thus——” “ Well, I will not. We will speak on other sub- jects. Ah! I remember, we were just now con- versing about the dinner-party : for the Villebelles, you will remember, are coming. What little I saw of the Marchioness the other day, when you intro- dueed me to her, I liked very much. I should be pleased to cultivate her acquaintance: I think she would become my friend ;—and I feel that I do want a friend—a real friend! There are times when I am so lonely—eo' dull—so despond- ing——” - This was another unfortunate speech, but made we oueee manner, and most unrefiect- ingly. “ By heaven, another taunt!” ejaculated the Viscount. “ How many more complaints? How- ever,” he immediately added, perceiving that his poor wife was becoming so deadly pale again that it seemed as if she were about to faint,—“ we will not say any more now—we will not renew these unpleasant topics.” “No, don’t—pray on ee she murmured, with | i a look of earnest appeal: then him half tenderly, half timidly—but not venturing to embrace him, nor even to take his hand, nor place her own lovingly upon his shoulder, as she longed to do,—she said, “Do not forget, dear Jules, that the company will be here by seven. ' And,” she added, perfectly innocent of any sinister motive, “it is not yet eleven o’clock : so you have plenty of time to amuse yourself till dinner.” He was about to ejaculate that this was another taunt: but feeling the inutility of renewing the ‘war of words—or rather of prosecuting it on his own side—he said, “ No, no—I shall not forget— I will be home by seven:”—and he quitted the room. Stephanie proceeded mechanically towards one of the windows; and in a few minutes, as she gazed vacantly forth, she observed her husband hurrying along in the direction of Auteuil. He was on foot: she looked wistfully after him in the hope that he would turn his head and wave his hand—but he did not; and she could not help feeling disappointed that he should not think it possible she might be at the window. Then, as she remained there, watching his receding form, she could not hetp noticing the hurried manner im which he was ing ;—and now she be- thought herself that for the last fortnight he had mot been once out on horseback. This circum- stance had not occurred to her before: and though not for a single instant did she now regard it as suspicious, yet she nevertheless wondered thereat. She knew how passionately fond he had ever been of equestrian exercise ; and it was therefore natural she should marvel that he had ceased to take it. But she soon fell into another train of reflections in respect to Jules; and retiring to her own boudoir, sat herself down to review all the details of the scene which had just taken’ place,—so as to glean therefrom the necessary hints to reform ber creature reilly and truly believed that all the fault was on her own side; and that ehe therefore did indeed require such self-reformation. CHAPTER CL. e THE MISTRESS. Taz Viscount de Chateauneuf hurried along in the direction of the Durands’ villa. He sped thus precipitately, in order if possible to outstrip his own hte. He was too intelligent not to comprehend that he had been harsh, severe, and cruel towards his wife; and he was too generous not to regret it. Still he really and truly did believe that she had intended as taunts some of the things which she hed sdid: but he could not help acknowledging that by his own conduct he fully deserved them. He knew that he was wrong—he knew that Stephanie loved him—and he felt that he was guilty of a monstrous injus- first time that ever such serious words had passed between them, or that he had shown open resentment at what he had described as the “ scenes” which were wont to take place. Hitherto those scenes had been insignificant in comparison with this one of to-day; and thus was it that his remorse was for an instant so poignant. But, alas! that good resolution was abandoned almost as suddenly as formed: he had not the moral courage to retrace his way and perform the part which his better feelings had for an instant suggested. Besides, could he abandon his Au- gusta? No, no—he could not; and he hastened onward to the Durands’ villa. ‘For the rest of the distance he endeavoured to reason himeelf into the belief that he was justified in the course he was pursuing—that Stephanie was indeed unfitted to be his wife—and that he had therefore a right to have a mistress. And then, too, he contrasted Augusta with Stephanie,—the former all fervid passion, the latter all girlish love without its fiery sensuslity—the former glowing and ardent, the latter only esentimentally tender—the former a companion who could talk upon a thousand things, the latter an inexperienced creature whose very ingenuousness was irksome and whose naévaté was that of a school-girl. Still, as the Viscount thus drew his comparison between his mistress and his wife, he could not crush the secret feeling which was in his mind, that his conduct was an injustice, an outrage, and a cruelty towards that affectionate being who he knew would, if necessary, lay down her life to serve him. He was giad when he reached the villa; for he longed in the arms of Augusta to forget all these remorseful and com- punctious feelings. Mrs. Chesterfield was half reclining upon s sofa in the sitting-room when Jules de Chateauncuf made his appearance. She wore an elegant t I. i | ; LN COLL (C DOO CS (GO)