The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane by Alain René le Sage (good books to read in english .TXT) 📕

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