The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗
- Author: Alain René le Sage
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for you the hand of Enriquez, if the cause of glory and the
welfare of the realm demanded it not indispensably for Constance.
It is on the sole condition of marrying that princess, that the
late king has nominated him his successor. Would you have him
prefer you to the crown of Sicily? Believe me, my heart bleeds at
the mortal blow which impends over you. Yet, since we cannot
contend with the fates, make a magnanimous effort. Your fame is
concerned, not to let the whole nation see that you have nursed
up a delusive hope. Your sensibility towards the person of the
king might even give birth to ignominious rumours. The only
method of preserving yourself from their poison, is to marry the
constable. In short, Blanche, there is no time left for
irresolution. The king has decided between a throne and the
possession of your charms. He has fixed his choice on Constance.
The constable holds my words in pledge; enable me to redeem it, I
beseech you. Or if nothing but a paramount necessity can fix your
wavering resolution, I must make an unwilling use of my parental
authority; know then, I command you.
Ending with this threat, he left her to make her own reflections
on what had passed. He was in hopes that after having weighed the
reasons he had urged to support her virtue against the bias of
her feelings, she would determine of herself to admit the
constable’s addresses. He was not mistaken in his conjecture: but
at what an expense did the wretched Blanche rise to this height
of virtuous resolution! Her condition was that in the whole world
the most deserving of pity. The affliction of finding her fears
realized respecting the in fidelity of Enriquez, and of being
compelled, besides losing the man of her choice, to sacrifice
herself to another whom she could never love, occasioned her such
storms of passion and alternate tossings of frantic desperation,
as to bring with each successive moment a variety of vindictive
torture. If my sad fate is fixed, exclaimed she, how can I
triumph over it but by death? Merciless powers, who preside over
our wayward fortunes, why feed and tantalize me with the most
flattering hopes, only to plunge me headlong into a gulf of
miseries? And thou too, perfidious lover! to rush into the arms
of another, when all those vows of eternal fidelity were mine. So
soon then is that plighted faith void and forgotten? To punish
thee for so cruel a deception, may it please heaven, in its
retribution, to make the conscious couch of conjugal endearment,
polluted as it must be by perjury, less the scene of pleasure
than the dungeon of remorse! May the fond caresses of Constance
distil poison through thy faithless heart! Let us rival one
another in the horrors of our nuptials! Yes, traitor, I mean to
wed the constable, though shrinking from his ardent touch, to
avenge me on myself! to be my own scourge and tormentor, for
having selected so fatally the object of my frantic passion.
Since deep-rooted obedience to the will of God forbids to
entertain the thought of a premature death, whatever days may be
allotted me to drag on shall be but a lengthened chain of
heaviness and torment. If a sentiment of love still lurks about
your heart, it will be revenge enough for me to cast myself into
your presence, the devoted bride or victim of another: but if you
have thrown off my remembrance with your own vows, Sicily at
least shall glory in the distinction of reckoning among its
natives a woman who knew how to punish herself for having
disposed of her heart too lightly.
In such a state of mind did this wretched martyr to love and duty
pass the night preceding her marriage with the constable.
Siffredi, finding her the next morning ready to comply with his
wishes, hastened to avail himself of this favourable disposition.
He sent for the constable to Belmonte on that very day, and the
marriage ceremony was performed privately in the chapel of the
castle. What a crisis for Blanche! It was not enough to renounce
a crown, to lose a lover endeared to her by every tie, and to
yield herself up to the object of her hatred. In addition to all
this, she must put a constraint on her sentiments before a
husband, naturally jealous, and long occupied with the most
ardent admiration of her charms. The bridegroom, delighted in the
possession of her, was all day long in her presence. He did not
leave her to the miserable consolation of pouring out her sorrows
in secret. When night arrived, Leontio’s daughter felt all her
disgust and terror redoubled. But what seemed likely to become of
her when her women, after having undressed her, left her alone
with the constable? He enquired respectfully into the cause of
her apparent faintness and discomposure. The question was
sufficiently embarrassing to Blanche, who affected to be ill. Her
husband was at first deceived by her pretences; but he did not
long remain in such an error. Being, as he was, sincerely
concerned at the condition in which he saw her, but still
pressing her to go to bed, his urgent solicitations, falsely
construed by her, offered to her wounded mind an image so cruel
and indelicate, that she could no longer dissemble what was
passing within, but gave a free course to her sighs and tears.
What a discovery for a man who thought himself at the summit of
his wishes! He no longer doubted but the distressed state of his
wife was fraught with some sinister omen to his love. And yet,
though this knowledge reduced him to a situation almost as
deplorable as that of Blanche, he had sufficient command over
himself to keep his suspicions within his own breast. He
redoubled his assiduities, and went on pressing his bride to lay
herself down, assuring her that the repose of which she stood in
need should be undisturbed by his interruption. He offered of his
own accord even to call her women, if she was of opinion that
their attendance could afford any relief to her indisposition.
Blanche, reviving at that proposal, told him that sleep was the
best remedy for the debility under which she laboured. He
affected to think so too. They accordingly partook of the same
bed, but with a conduct altogether different from what the laws
of love, sanctioned by the rites of marriage, might authorize in
a pair mutually delighted and delighting.
While Siffredi’s daughter was giving way to her grief, the
constable was hunting in his own mind for the causes which might
render the nuptial office so contemptible a sinecure in his
hands. He could not be long in conjecturing that he had a rival,
but when he attempted to discover him he was lost in the
labyrinth of his own ideas. All he knew with certainty, was the
peculiar severity of his own fate. He had already passed two
thirds of the night in this perplexity of thought, when an
undistinguishable noise grew gradually on his sense of hearing.
Great was his surprise when a footstep seemed audibly to pace
about the room. He fancied himself mistaken; for he recollected
shutting the door himself after Blanche’s women had retired. He
drew back the curtain to satisfy his senses on the occasion of
this extraordinary noise. But the light in the chimney corner had
gone out, and he soon heard a feeble and melancholy voice calling
Blanche with anxious and importunate repetitions. Then did the
suggestions of his jealousy transport him into rage. His insulted
honour obliging him to rush from the bed to which he had so long
aspired, and either to prevent a meditated injury, or take
vengeance for its perpetration, he caught up his sword and flew
forward in the direction whence the voice seemed to proceed. He
felt a naked blade opposed to his own. As he advanced, his
antagonist retired. The pursuit became more eager, the retreat
more precipitate. His search was vigilant, and every corner of
the room seemed to contain its object, but that which he
momentarily occupied. The darkness, however, favoured the unknown
invader, and he was nowhere to be found. The pursuer halted. He
listened, but heard no sound. It seemed like enchantment! He made
for the door, under the idea that this was the outlet to the
secret assassin of his honour; yet the bolt was shot as fast as
before. Unable to comprehend this strange occurrence, he called
those of his retinue who were most within reach of his voice. As
he opened the door for this purpose, he placed himself so as to
prevent all egress, and stood upon his guard, lest the devoted
victim of his search should escape.
At his redoubled cries, some servants ran with lights. He laid
hold of a taper, and renewed his search in the chamber with his
sword still drawn. Yet he found no one there, nor any apparent
sign of any person having been in the room. He was not aware of
any private door, nor could he discover any practicable mode of
escape: yet for all this, he could not shut his eyes against the
nature and circumstances of his misfortune. His thoughts were all
thrown into inextricable confusion. To ask any questions of
Blanche was in vain: for she had too deep an interest in
perplexing the truth, to furnish any clue whatever to its
discovery. He therefore adopted the measure of unbosoming his
griefs to Leontio; but previously sent away his attendants with
the excuse that he thought he had heard some noise in the room,
but was mistaken. His father-in-law having left his chamber in
consequence of this strange disturbance, met him, and heard from
his lips the particulars of this unaccountable adventure. The
narrative was accompanied with every indication of extreme agony,
produced by deep and tender feeling, as well as by a sense of
insulted honour.
Siffredi was surprised at the occurrence. Though it did not
appear to him at all probable, that was no reason for being easy
about its reality. The king’s passion might accomplish anything;
and that idea alone justified the most cruel apprehensions. But
it could do no good to foster either the natural jealousy of his
son-in-law, or his particular suspicions arising out of
circumstances. He therefore endeavoured to persuade him, with an
air of confidence, that this imaginary voice, and airy sword
opposed to his substantial one, were, and could possibly be, but
the gratuitous creations of a fancy, under the influence of
amorous distrust. It was morally impossible that any person
should have made his way into his daughter’s chamber. With regard
to the melancholy, so visible in his wile’s deportment, it might
very naturally be attributed to precarious health and delicacy of
constitution. The honour of a husband need not be so tremblingly
alive to all the qualms of maiden fear and inexperience. Change
of condition, in the case of a girl habituated to live almost
without human society, and abruptly consigned to the embraces of
a man in whom love and previous acquaintance had not inspired
confidence, might innocently be the cause of these tears, of
these sighs, and of this lively affliction so irksome to his
feelings. But it was to be considered that tenderness, especially
in the hearts of young ladies, fortified by the pride of blood
against the excesses of love-sick abandonment, was only to be
cherished into a flame by time and assiduity. He therefore
exhorted him to tranquillize his disturbed mind; to be ardently
officious in redoubling every instance of affection; to create a
soft and seducing interest in the sensibility of Blanche. In
short, he besought him earnestly to return to her
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