The Knight of Malta. Эжен Сю

king.

      Unfortunately, they could not dream of preventing Raimond V., when once he determined upon any course of action, and his dependents were only too willing to second his dangerous projects.

      The good Abbé Mascarolus ventured to say a few words on obedience,—that the lords owed it to themselves to set the example; but a severe glance from the eye of the baron cut short the chaplain’s moralising, and he dared not defend the marshal as he had defended the warlike bishops.

      Reine was not a little frightened at the baron’s extravagant bursts of merriment and laughter, as he talked aside with Laramée.

      When supper was over, according to the ancient and invariable usage of hospitality, the baron took a lamp, and himself conducted Honorât de Berrol to the chamber he was to occupy.

      As upon previous occasions, the young man wished to spare the baron this ceremonial, arguing that his position as a betrothed lover rendered it unnecessary, but the old gentleman replied that not until after the festivities of Christmas, when the marriage rite was to be celebrated, could he be treated with less formality; until then, he must receive all the attention due a gentleman who slept under his roof.

      Reine entered her chamber, followed by Stephanette. Her apartment was near that of her father, and listening she discovered to her great regret that Laramée remained with him longer than was his habit, and that the baron continued to make plans for the discomfiture of the recorder and officers. At a late hour of the night, she heard the majordomo order some of the baron’s servants to carry invitations.

      Distressed by these indications, she dismissed Stephanette, and returned to her chamber.

      A new object of astonishment, almost of terror, awaited her there.

CHAPTER IX. THE PICTURE

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      After having shut the door which communicated with her father’s rooms. Reine walked mechanically to the table standing in the embrasure of the window. What was her astonishment to see on this table a little picture encased in a frame of filigree, set with precious stones.

      Her heart beat violently; she recalled the crystal vase, and a secret presentiment told her that this picture had some mysterious connection with the adventure among the rocks of Ollioules.

      She approached it, trembling.

      The perfection of this picture, painted on vellum, in imitation of ancient manuscripts, was incredible.

      It represented the scene in the gorges of Ollioules at the very moment when the baron, embracing his daughter, had extended his hand to the young stranger; at a distance on the rock, Pog and Trimalcyon, the two foreign personages of whom we have spoken, appeared to command the scene.

      Although Reine had seen these two men but a moment, the likeness in the picture was so striking that she recognised them. She shuddered involuntarily at the sinister expression of Fog’s face, easily known by his long red beard and the bitter smile which contracted his lips.

      The features of the baron, as well as those of Reine, were rendered with surprising fidelity and perfect art, although the faces were scarcely larger than the nail of the little finger. They were drawn with a delicacy which was marvellous.

      Notwithstanding the inimitable skill displayed in this ravishing picture, an odd, extravagant thing destroyed its harmony and effect.

      The pose, person, and costume of Erebus—the strange young man—were perfectly portrayed; but his head disappeared beneath a small cloud, in the centre of which was represented the enamelled dove already portrayed on the crystal vase.

      This omission was strange, and perhaps cleverly calculated, inasmuch as Reine, in spite of her fear and astonishment, could not help calling memory to her aid in order to complete the portrait of the stranger.

      She saw it in her own mind, instead of on the vellum which she held in her hand.

      There was, besides, on the part of the stranger, a sort of delicacy in thus effacing his own features under a symbol which represented to his mind the most precious memory of that day; or he may have adopted this means to quiet the scruples of the young girl, should she decide to keep the picture.

      In order to comprehend the struggle between the desire to keep the picture and the resolve to destroy it, which rose in the young girl’s mind, we must say a few words about Reine’s love for Honorât de Berrol, and her own sentiments after the adventure in the gorges of Ollioules.

      Honorât de Berrol was an orphan and distant relative of Raimond V. He had considerable fortune, his estates lying near those of the baron, and community of interest as well as other ties bound the chevalier and the old gentleman.

      For two or three years Honorât came almost every day to Maison-Forte. The chevalier was the impersonation of rectitude, sincerity, and honour. His education, without being extraordinary, was superior to that of most young men of his age.

      He was actively occupied in the management of his estates; his order and his economy were remarkable, although, when an opportunity presented itself, he knew how to be generous.

      His mind was not unusual, but he had plenty of good sense and reason, and his character, naturally charming, could be firm and decided when circumstances demanded it.

      His predominating characteristic was a love of justice. Little given to enthusiasm or exaggeration, and supremely happy in his position, he looked forward to his marriage with the baron’s daughter with a pure and serene joy.

      There was no romantic aspect to this love. Before allowing himself to fall in love with Reine, Honorât had frankly expressed his intentions to the baron, and asked him to learn his daughter’s feelings.

      The good gentleman, who never temporised or resorted to half-measures, replied to Honorât that the alliance would be agreeable to him, and at once told Reine of the chevalier’s proposal.

      Reine was then sixteen years old; she was pleased with the appearance and bearing of the Chevalier de Berrol, for the manners of most of the country gentlemen who visited Maison-Forte suffered much by comparison with those of her amiable relative.

      Reine accepted the baron’s plans, and the baron wrote at length to his brothers, the commander and Father Elzear, without whose advice he did nothing, concerning the happy betrothal.

      Their response was favourable to Honorât, and the marriage was fixed for the Christmas celebration which would follow the young girl’s eighteenth birthday.

      Thus passed two years in the midst of sweet hopes and a pure, calm love.

      Honorât, serious and gentle, began at once his part as mentor, and by degrees acquired a great ascendancy over the mind of Reine.

      Raimond V. loved his daughter so foolishly and idolatrously, that the happy influence of Honorât saved her from her father’s weakness.

      The girl had lost her mother when she was in the cradle, and had been reared under the eyes of the baron by Stephanette’s mother, an excellent woman, and, although happily endowed with good instincts, had been permitted to indulge her caprice at will.

      Her lively imagination exaggerated sympathy and antipathy, and she often received the wise and reasonable suggestions of Honorât with mischievous irony and even resentment.

      Legend and romance were the mental food she craved, and often in thought she pictured herself as the heroine of some strange adventure. Honorât would dissipate these fantastic visions by a breath, and not infrequently reproached Reine, with as much good-humour as gaiety, for these vagabond imaginations.

      But these little differences were soon forgotten. Reine would confess her wrong-doing with adorable frankness, and the beautiful affection of the two lovers seemed only to increase.