a woman of thirty- 第36部分

The　/Othello/　made　the　most　of　the　little　wind　she　could　gain　to　fly　on　her　new　course。　Swaying　first　to　one　side；　then　to　the　other；　like　a　stag　beetle　on　the　wing；　the　fair　vessel　beat　to　windward　on　her　zigzag　flight　to　the　south。　Sometimes　she　was　hidden　from　sight　by　the　straight　column　of　smoke　that　flung　fantastic　shadows　across　the　water；　then　gracefully　she　shot　out　clear　of　it；　and　Helene；　catching　sight　of　her　father；　waved　her　handkerchief　for　yet　one　more　farewell　greeting。

A　few　more　minutes；　and　the　/Saint…Ferdinand/　went　down　with　a　bubbling　turmoil；　at　once　effaced　by　the　ocean。　Nothing　of　all　that　had　been　was　left　but　a　smoke　cloud　hanging　in　the　breeze。　The　/Othello/　was　far　away；　the　long…boat　had　almost　reached　land；　the　cloud　came　between　the　frail　skiff　and　the　brig；　and　it　was　through　a　break　in　the　swaying　smoke　that　the　General　caught　the　last　glimpse　of　Helene。　A　prophetic　vision！　Her　dress　and　her　white　handkerchief　stood　out　against　the　murky　background。　Then　the　brig　was　not　even　visible　between　the　green　water　and　the　blue　sky；　and　Helene　was　nothing　but　an　imperceptible　speck；　a　faint　graceful　line；　an　angel　in　heaven；　a　mental　image；　a　memory。

The　Marquis　had　retrieved　his　fortunes；　when　he　died；　worn　out　with　toil。　A　few　months　after　his　death；　in　1833；　the　Marquise　was　obliged　to　take　Moina　to　a　watering…place　in　the　Pyrenees；　for　the　capricious　child　had　a　wish　to　see　the　beautiful　mountain　scenery。　They　left　the　baths；　and　the　following　tragical　incident　occurred　on　their　way　home。

〃Dear　me；　mother；〃　said　Moina；　〃it　was　very　foolish　of　us　not　to　stay　among　the　mountains　a　few　days　longer。　It　was　much　nicer　there。　Did　you　hear　that　horrid　child　moaning　all　night；　and　that　wretched　woman；　gabbling　away　in　patois　no　doubt；　for　I　could　not　understand　a　single　word　she　said。　What　kind　of　people　can　they　have　put　in　the　next　room　to　ours？　This　is　one　of　the　horridest　nights　I　have　ever　spent　in　my　life。〃

〃I　heard　nothing；〃　said　the　Marquise；　〃but　I　will　see　the　landlady；　darling；　and　engage　the　next　room；　and　then　we　shall　have　the　whole　suite　of　rooms　to　ourselves；　and　there　will　be　no　more　noise。　How　do　you　feel　this　morning？　Are　you　tired？〃

As　she　spoke；　the　Marquise　rose　and　went　to　Moina's　bedside。

〃Let　us　see；〃　she　said；　feeling　for　the　girl's　hand。

〃Oh！　let　me　alone；　mother；〃　said　Moina；　〃your　fingers　are　cold。〃

She　turned　her　head　round　on　the　pillow　as　she　spoke；　pettishly；　but　with　such　engaging　grace；　that　a　mother　could　scarcely　have　taken　it　amiss。　Just　then　a　wailing　cry　echoed　through　the　next　room；　a　faint　prolonged　cry；　that　must　surely　have　gone　to　the　heart　of　any　woman　who　heard　it。

〃Why；　if　you　heard　/that/　all　night　long；　why　did　you　not　wake　me？　We　should　have〃

A　deeper　moan　than　any　that　had　gone　before　it　interrupted　the　Marquise。

〃Some　one　is　dying　there；〃　she　cried；　and　hurried　out　of　the　room。

〃Send　Pauline　to　me！〃　called　Moina。　〃I　shall　get　up　and　dress。〃

The　Marquise　hastened　downstairs；　and　found　the　landlady　in　the　courtyard　with　a　little　group　about　her；　apparently　much　interested　in　something　that　she　was　telling　them。

〃Madame；　you　have　put　some　one　in　the　next　room　who　seems　to　be　very　ill　indeed〃

〃Oh！　don't　talk　to　me　about　it！〃　cried　the　mistress　of　the　house。　〃I　have　just　sent　some　one　for　the　mayor。　Just　imagine　it；　it　is　a　woman；　a　poor　unfortunate　creature　that　came　here　last　night　on　foot。　She　comes　from　Spain；　she　has　no　passport　and　no　money；　she　was　carrying　her　baby　on　her　back；　and　the　child　was　dying。　I　could　not　refuse　to　take　her　in。　I　went　up　to　see　her　this　morning　myself；　for　when　she　turned　up　yesterday；　it　made　me　feel　dreadfully　bad　to　look　at　her。　Poor　soul！　she　and　the　child　were　lying　in　bed；　and　both　of　them　at　death's　door。　'Madame；'　says　she；　pulling　a　gold　ring　off　her　finger；　'this　is　all　that　I　have　left；　take　it　in　payment；　it　will　be　enough；　I　shall　not　stay　here　long。　Poor　little　one！　we　shall　die　together　soon！'　she　said；　looking　at　the　child。　I　took　her　ring；　and　I　asked　her　who　she　was；　but　she　never　would　tell　me　her　name。　。　。　。　I　have　just　sent　for　the　doctor　and　M。　le　Maire。〃

〃Why；　you　must　do　all　that　can　be　done　for　her；〃　cried　the　Marquise。　〃Good　heavens！　perhaps　it　is　not　too　late！　I　will　pay　for　everything　that　is　necessary〃

〃Ah！　my　lady；　she　looks　to　me　uncommonly　proud；　and　I　don't　know　that　she　would　allow　it。〃

〃I　will　go　to　see　her　at　once。〃

The　Marquise　went　up　forthwith　to　the　stranger's　room；　without　thinking　of　the　shock　that　the　sight　of　her　widow's　weeds　might　give　to　a　woman　who　was　said　to　be　dying。　At　the　sight　of　that　dying　woman　the　Marquise　turned　pale。　In　spite　of　the　changes　wrought　by　fearful　suffering　in　Helene's　beautiful　face；　she　recognized　her　eldest　daughter。

But　Helene；　when　she　saw　a　woman　dressed　in　black；　sat　upright　in　bed　with　a　shriek　of　horror。　Then　she　sank　back；　she　knew　her　mother。

〃My　daughter；〃　said　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　〃what　is　to　be　done？　　Pauline！　。　。　。　Moina！　。　。　。〃

〃Nothing　now　for　me；〃　said　Helene　faintly。　〃I　had　hoped　to　see　my　father　once　more；　but　your　mourning〃　she　broke　off；　clutched　her　child　to　her　heart　as　if　to　give　it　warmth；　and　kissed　its　forehead。　Then　she　turned　her　eyes　on　her　mother；　and　the　Marquise　met　the　old　reproach　in　them；　tempered　with　forgiveness；　it　is　true；　but　still　reproach。　She　saw　it；　and　would　not　see　it。　She　forgot　that　Helene　was　the　child　conceived　amid　tears　and　despair；　the　child　of　duty；　the　cause　of　one　of　the　greatest　sorrows　in　her　life。　She　stole　to　her　eldest　daughter's　side；　remembering　nothing　but　that　Helene　was　her　firstborn；　the　child　who　had　taught　her　to　know　the　joys　of　motherhood。　The　mother's　eyes　were　full　of　tears。　〃Helene；　my　child！　。　。　。〃　she　cried；　with　her　arms　about　her　daughter。

Helene　was　silent。　Her　own　babe　had　just　drawn　its　last　breath　on　her　breast。

Moina　came　into　the　room　with　Pauline；　her　maid；　and　the　landlady　and　the　doctor。　The　Marquise　was　holding　her　daughter's　ice…cold　hand　in　both　of　hers；　and　gazing　at　her　in　despair；　but　the　widowed　woman；　who　had　escaped　shipwreck　with　but　one　of　all　her　fair　band　of　children；　spoke　in　a　voice　that　was　dreadful　to　hear。　〃All　this　is　your　work；〃　she　said。　〃If　you　had　but　been　for　me　all　that〃

〃Moina；　go！　Go　out　of　the　room；　all　of　you！〃　cried　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　her　shrill　tones　drowning　Helene's　voice。〃For　pity's　sake；〃　she　continued；　〃let　us　not　begin　these　miserable　quarrels　again　now〃

〃I　will　be　silent；〃　Helene　answered　with　a　preternatural　effort。　〃I　am　a　mother；　I　know　that　Moina　ought　not　。　。　。　Where　is　my　child？〃

Moina　came　back；　impelled　by　curiosity。

〃Sister；〃　said　the　spoiled　child；　〃the　doctor〃

〃It　is　all　of　no　use；〃　said　Helene。　〃Oh！　why　did　I　not　die　as　a　girl　of　sixteen　when　I　meant　to　take　my　own　life？　There　is　no　happiness　outside　the　laws。　Moina　。　。　。　you　。　。　。〃

Her　head　sank　till　her　face　lay　against　the　face　of　the　little　one；　in　her　agony　she　strained　her　babe　to　her　breast；　and　died。

〃Your　sister；　Moina；〃　said　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　bursting　into　tears　when　she　reached　her　room；　〃your　sister　meant　no　doubt　to　tell　you　that　a　girl　will　never　find　happiness　in　a　romantic　life；　in　living　as　nobody　else　does；　and；　above　all　things；　far　away　from　her　mother。〃



VI。

THE　OLD　AGE　OF　A　GUILTY　MOTHER

It　was　one　of　the　earliest　June　days　of　the　year　1844。　A　lady　of　fifty　or　thereabouts；　for　she　looked　older　than　her　actual　age；　was　pacing　up　and　down　one　of　the　sunny　paths　in　the　garden　of　a　great　mansion　in　the　Rue　Plument　in　Paris。　It　was　noon。　The　lady　took　two　or　three　turns　along　the　gently　winding　garden　walk；　careful　never　to　lose　sight　of　a　certain　row　of　windows；　to　which　she　seemed　to　give　her　whole　attention；　then　she　sat　down　on　a　bench；　a　piece　of　elegant　semi…rusticity　made　of　branches　with　the　bark　left　on　the　wood。　From　the　place　where　she　sat　she　could　look　through　the　garden　railings　along　the　inner　boulevards　to　the　wonderful　dome　of　the　Invalides　rising　above　the　crests　of　a　forest　of　elm…trees；　and　see　the　less　striking　view　of　her　own　grounds　terminating　in　the　gray　stone　front　of　one　of　the　finest　hotels　in　the　Faubourg　Saint…Germain。

Silence　lay　over　the　neighboring　gardens；　and　the　boulevards　stretching　away　to　the　Invalides。　Day　scarcely　begins　at　noon　in　that　aristocratic　quarter；　and　masters　and　servants　are　all　alike　asleep；　or　just　awakening；　unless　some　young　lady　takes　it　into　her　head　to　go　for　an　early　ride；　or　a　gray…headed　diplomatist　rises　betimes　to　redraft　a　protocol。

The　elderly　lady　stirring　abroad　at　that　hour　was　the　Marquise　d'Aiglemont；　the　mother　of　Mme。　de　Saint…Hereen；　to　whom　the　great　house　belonged。　The　Marquise　had　made　over　the　mansion　and　almost　her　whole　fortune　to　her　daughter；　reserving　only　an　annuity　for　herself。

The　Comtesse　Moina　de　Saint…Hereen　was　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　youngest　child。　The　Marquise　had　made　every　sacrifice　to　marry　her　daughter　to　the　eldest　son　of　one　of　the　greatest　houses　of　France；　and　this　was　only　what　might　have　been　expected；　for　the　lady　had　lost　her　sons；　first　one　and　then　the　other。　Gustave；　Marquis　d'Aiglemont；　had　died　of　the　cholera；　Abel；　the　second；　had　fallen　in　Algeria。　Gustave　had　left　a　widow　and　children；　but　the　dowager's　affection　for　her　sons　had　been　only　moderately　warm；　and　for　the　next　generation　it　was　decidedly　tepid。　She　was　always　civil　to　her　daughter…in…law；　but　her　feeling　towards　the　young　Marquise　was　the　distinctly　conventional　affection　which　good　taste　and　good　manners　require　us　to　feel　for　our　relatives。　The　fortunes　of　her　dead　children　having　been　settled；　she　could　devote　her　savings　and　her　own　property　to　her　darling　Moina。

Moina；　beautiful　and　fascinating　from　childhood；　was　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　favorite；　loved　beyond　all　the　others　with　an　instinctive　or　involuntary　love；　a　fatal　drawing　of　the　heart；　which　sometimes　seems　inexplicable；　sometimes；　and　to　a　close　observer；　only　too　easy　to　explain。　Her　darling's　pretty　face；　the　sound　of　Moina's　voice；　her　ways；　her　manner；　her　looks　and　gestures；　roused　all　the　deepest　emotions　that　can　stir　a　mother's　heart　with　trouble；　rapture；　or　delight。　The　springs　of　the　Marquise's　life；　of　yesterday；