Mysteries of Paris Volume III Part 57

"Oh! my lord, to such n.o.ble words one can only answer by grateful tears,"

cried Clemence. Then, composing herself, she added, "My lord, some one comes; it is your child."

"Oh! do not refuse me," cried Rudolph, in a supplicating voice; "in the name of my love, say our child."

"Our child," murmured Clemence; at the same moment Murphy opened the door, leading in Fleur-de-Marie.

The girl, descending from the carriage, had crossed an ante-chamber, filled with footmen in full livery; a waiting-room, where valets attended; then the ushers' saloon; and, finally, the waiting-rooms, occupied by a chamberlain and the aides of the prince in full uniform. Let the reader imagine the astonishment of the poor Goualeuse, who knew no other splendors than those of the farm at Bouqueval, on traversing these princely apartments, resplendent with gold, mirrors, and paintings.

As soon as she appeared, Lady d'Harville ran toward her, took her by the hand, and placing her arm around her for support, she conducted her toward the prince, who, standing near the chimney, had not been able to move.

Murphy, after having confided Fleur-de Marie to the care of Lady d'Harville, hastily disappeared behind the folds of one of the immense window-curtains, finding that he was not altogether sure of his self-possession. At the sight of her benefactor, her savior, who regarded her with silent ecstasy, Fleur-de-Marie, already so agitated, began to tremble.

"Compose yourself, my child," said Lady d'Harville; "there is your friend, M. Rudolph, who awaits you impatiently; he has been very uneasy about you."

"Oh! yes, very--very uneasy," said Rudolph, still immovable, his heart almost breaking at the sight of the sweet pale face of his child.

Thus, in spite of his resolution, the prince was for a moment obliged to turn his head to conceal his emotion.

"Stay, my child, you are still very weak; sit down there," said Clemence, to turn her attention from the prince; and she led her to a large arm-chair of bronze and gilt, in which the Goualeuse seated herself. Her agitation increased every moment: she was oppressed, speech failed her; she had not a word of grat.i.tude for Rudolph.

At length, on a sign from Lady d'Harville, who was leaning on the back of the chair, and holding one of Fleur-de-Marie's hands in her own, the prince approached softly to the other side of the seat. With more self-command, he then said to Fleur-de-Marie, who turned toward him her enchanting face:

"At length, my child, you are once more reunited to your friends, and forever! You never shall leave them more Now you must forget what you have suffered."

"Yes, my child, the best way to prove that you love us," added Clemence, "is to forget the past."

"Believe me, M. Rudolph--believe me, my lady, that if I do recall it sometimes, it will only be to say to myself, that, without you, I should still be very unhappy."

"Yes; but we will take care that you have no more such gloomy thoughts. Our tenderness will not leave you the time, my dear Marie," answered Rudolph, "for you know that I gave you this name at the farm."

"Yes, M. Rudolph. And is Madame George, who allowed me to call her mother, well?"

"Very well, my child. But I have important news to tell you."

"Me, M. Ruldoph?"

"Since I have seen you, great discoveries have been made concerning your birth."

"My birth!"

"It is known who were your parents--who was your father."

Rudolph was so much choked by his tears on his p.r.o.nouncing these words, that Fleur-de-Marie, very much affected, turned quickly toward him: he had turned away his head. An incident, half burlesque, diverted the attention of La Goualeuse, and prevented her from remarking more closely the emotion of her father: the worthy squire, who still remained behind the curtain, and, apparently was very attentively looking into the garden of the hotel, could not refrain from blowing his nose with a most formidable noise, for he wept like a child.

"Yes, my dear Marie," Clemence hastened to say, "your father is known--he still lives."

"My father!" cried the Goualeuse, with an outburst which put the composure of Rudolph to a new trial.

"And some day," resumed Clemence, "very soon, perhaps, you will see him.

What will doubtless surprise you very much is, that he is of high standing--n.o.ble birth."

"And my mother, madame-shall I see her?"

"Your father will answer this question, my child; but shall you not be very happy to see him?"

"Oh! yes, madame," answered Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her eyes.

"How much you will love him, when you know him," said the marchioness.

"From that day forward, a new life will commence for you, Marie," added the prince.

"Oh! no, M. Rudolph," answered the Goualeuse, unaffectedly.

"My new life commenced on the day when you took pity on me--when you sent me to the farm."

"But your father will cherish you," said the prince.

"I do not know him, and to you I owe all, M. Rudolph."

"Then you love me as much--more, perhaps, than you would love your father?"

"I bless you, and I respect you as I do G.o.d. M. Rudolph, because you have done for me that which G.o.d alone else could have done," answered the Goualeuse, with enthusiasm, forgetting her habitual timidity. "When my lady had the goodness to speak to me in prison, I said to her what I said to everybody--yes, M. Rudolph; to those who were very unfortunate, I said, 'Hope! M. Rudolph succors the unfortunate.' To those who hesitated between good and evil, I said, 'Courage, be virtuous; M. Rudolph rewards those who are virtuous.' To those who were wicked, I said, 'Take care! M. Rudolph punishes the wicked.' In fine, when I thought I was about to die, I said to myself, 'G.o.d will have mercy upon me, for M. Rudolph has judged me worthy of his interest.'"

Fleur-de-Marie, carried away by her grat.i.tude toward her benefactor, had overcome her fears: a slight carnation tinged her cheeks, and her beautiful blue eyes, which she raised toward heaven as if in prayer, shone with the softest l.u.s.ter. A silence of some seconds succeeded the enthusiastic words of Fleur-de-Marie; the emotions which affected the actors in this scene were profound.

"I see, my child," resumed Rudolph, hardly containing his joy, "that in your heart I have almost taken the place of your father."

"It is not my fault, M. Rudolph. It is, perhaps, wrong in me; but, as I have told you, I know you, and I do not know my father, and," added she, holding down her head in confusion, "and then you know the past, M.

Rudolph; and yet you have overwhelmed me with favors; but my father does not know it. Perhaps he will regret having found me," added the unfortunate child, shuddering, "and since he is, as my lady said, of high birth, doubtless he will be ashamed--he will blush for me!"

"_Blush_ for you!" cried Rudolph, drawing himself up proudly.

"Rea.s.sure yourself, poor child; your father will place you in a position so brilliant, so lofty, that the greatest among the great of this world will regard you henceforth with the utmost respect. Blush for you! no, no; you will rank with the n.o.blest princesses of Europe."

"My lord!" cried Murphy and Clemence at the same time, alarmed at the vehemence of Rudolph and the increasing pallor of Fleur-de-Marie, who looked at her father with surprise.

"Blush for you!" continued he; "oh! if I ever rejoiced and felt pride in my sovereign rank it is that, thanks to this rank, I can elevate you as much as you have heretofore been abased. Do you hear, my darling child--my beloved daughter? for it is I--I, who am your father!"

And the prince, no longer able to conquer his emotion, threw himself at the feet of Fleur-de-Marie, whom he covered with tears and caresses.

"G.o.d be praised!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, clasping her hands. "I am permitted to love my benefactor as much as I would have loved him. He is my father. I can cherish him without remorse. Be praised, my---"

She could not finish--the shock was too violent; Fleur-de-Marie fainted in the arms of her father.

Murphy ran to the door, opened it, and said, "Dr David instantly for his royal highness; some one is ill!"

"Curses on me? I have killed her," cried Rudolph--in tears, kneeling before his daughter. "Marie, my child, listen to me; it is your father.

Pardon--Oh! pardon for not having retained this secret longer. I have killed her!"