Anna St. Ives Part 29

But I cannot conceive, sir, how any man's thinking proper to kill himself can be an affront to another.

_Comment, Monsieur? Peste!_ But it is, if he kill himself to prove me a coward!

Then, sir, I am afraid there is not a madman in Bedlam who does not daily affront the whole world.

How so, sir?

By doing something which no man in his senses dare imitate.

_Nom d'un Dieu! Monsieur_, I am a man of honour! The family of Beaunoir is renowned for its n.o.ble feats, it shall not be disgraced by me. I have been defied, and I will have satisfaction.

But you were not defied to sword, or pistol. You were defied to leap.

Well, sir?

And before, as a man of honour, you can have any right to give a second challenge, you must answer the first.

Is that your opinion, sir?

Nay, I appeal to yourself.

_Allons_!--If so, I must leap! Will you do me the favour to accompany me? I will order post-horses instantly. You shall be my witness that I perform the first condition.

Can you swim?

_Ventrebleu_! What a question! I am not heavy enough to sink. Besides, sir, I was born at Ma.r.s.eilles.--Yes, we will go together; you shall see me make the leap; after which I may then return and publish my defiance to the whole universe.

No, sir! If you leap you will never publish your defiance!

How so?

You will be killed! The whole universe could not save you!

_Comment, diable_! Look at me! Look at Monsieur Calif! I am as light as--! _Peste_!

Yes; but you are not so strong as he: you cannot leap so far. His effort was prodigious! I have examined the place: and, had he fallen half a foot short of where he did, he must have been dashed to pieces.

_Fer et feu_!--In that case, I must die!--Yes, I must die! There is no remedy! I must not dishonour my family! No man on earth must brave the Count de Beaunoir! I must die!

And be laughed at?

Laugh, sir! _Mort de ma vie_! Who will dare to laugh? When you are dead, of what should they be afraid?

_Morbleu_! That's true.

He would be a rash fool who should dare to laugh at you while you are living.

_Foi d'un honnete homme, monsieur_, you are a man of honour: a gentleman. You are brave yourself, and know how to honour brave men, and I esteem you.

Sir, if you really esteem me--

_Ventrebleu_! Sir, I esteem you more than any man on earth! Command my purse, my sword! I would serve you at the hazard of my life!

Then let me prevail on you, sir, to consider well what I say. I solemnly a.s.sure you, I would not advise you to any thing which I would not do myself.

_Pardieu_! _Monsieur_, I am sure you would not. You have too much honour.

I have too much regard to truth.

_C'est la meme chose_[1].

[Footnote 1: That is the same thing.]

Men honour themselves most by opposing, nay by acting in the very teeth of the prejudices of mankind; and he is the bravest man who opposes them the oftenest. The world makes laws, and afterward laughs at or despises those by whom they are obeyed. He proves the n.o.bleness of his nature best who acts with most wisdom. Recollect the madness with which Mr. Clifton acted, how much he was blamed by every body, and imagine to yourself the temper of your own countrymen; then ask whether you would not be laughed at, instead of applauded and admired, were you so madly to throw away a life which you ought to dedicate to your country. The Parisians would write epigrams, and songs, and sing them in every street, on the n.o.bleman who, instead of living to fight the battles of his country, should toss himself like a lunatic down a rock, and dash out his brains.

_Que Dieu me d.a.m.ne, monsieur_, but you are in the right! Yes! I am a soldier! My country claims my sword! I hear we are soon to have a war with England; and then--! _Gardez-vous bien, Messieurs les Anglois_[1]!--Where is Monsieur Calif--?

[Footnote 1: Englishmen, beware!]

Mr. Clifton will not be at home to-day.

Well, sir, be so kind as to present my compliments to him, and tell him I would certainly have run him through the body, if you had not done me the honour to say all that you have said to me. I have appointed to set off for Fontainebleau tomorrow morning; but I intend to visit England: we may have the good fortune hereafter to meet, and then we will come to an explanation.

After a thousand whimsical, half crazy but well meaning, and I believe very sincere compliments, and offers of service, he left me; and I hope the danger is over.

But as I told thee, Oliver, the chief purpose of my writing is to ask thy advice. Principle, as thou well knowest, is too severe to admit of falsehood; direct, or indirect. To mention this dialogue to Clifton might be dangerous. It ought not to be, I grant, but still it might.

One would imagine that, instead of feeling anger, he must laugh, were he told of what has pa.s.sed: but there is no certainty. And is not silence indirect falsehood? The count has been here; his errand was to Clifton. Ought he not to be told of it, and suffered to judge for himself? And is not concealment an indirect falsehood? To me it appears the contrary. He is full as likely to take the wrong as the right side of the question. I see a possibility of harm, but no injury that can be done by silence. Nor do I myself perceive how it can be cla.s.sed among untruths. Still the doubt has occurred to my mind, and I have not hitherto answered it to my own satisfaction.

I forgot to tell thee with what ardour the count declared himself an admirer of her who is most admirable; and the romantic but very serious effervescence with which he called himself her champion; one who had devoted himself to maintain her superiority over her whole s.e.x, which he would die affirming; and to revenge her wrongs, if ever mortal should be daring or guilty enough to do her injustice. But as I tell thee he is an eccentric and undefinable character.

I have lately received a letter from my father, from which I find he has been led, by I know not what mistake, to conclude that Sir Arthur thinks of me for his son-in-law. His letter, as usual, is a strange one; and such as I believe no man on earth but himself could write.

Direct thy next to me in Grosvenor Street; for we shall be on our return, before I shall receive an answer.

Farewell.

F. HENLEY

LETTER LVI

_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_

_London, Grosvenor Street_

What strange perversity of accidents is it, Louisa, that has made me most deeply indebted to that man, above all others on the face of the earth, who thinks I have treated him unjustly? We are under fresh obligations, nay in all probability we again owe our lives to Frank Henley.