THE TEST.
Dagobert was right in defending his children, as he paternally called Rose and Blanche, and yet the apprehensions of the marshal with regard to the coldness of his daughters, were unfortunately justified by appearances.As he had told his father, unable to explain the sad, and almost trembling embarrassment, which his daughters felt in his presence, he sought in vain for the cause of what he termed their indifference.
Now reproaching himself bitterly for not concealing from them his grief at the death of their mother, he feared he might have given them to understand that they would be unable to console him; now supposing that he had not shown himself sufficiently tender, and that had chilled them with his military sternness; and now repeating with bitter regret, that, having always lived away from them, he must be always a stranger to them.
In a word, the most unlikely suppositions presented themselves by turns to his mind, and whenever such seeds of doubt, suspicion, or fear, are blended with a warm affection, they will sooner or later develop themselves with fatal effect.Yet, notwithstanding this fancied coldness, from which he suffered so much, the affection of the marshal for his daughters was so true and deep, that the thought of again quitting them caused the hesitations which were the torment of his life, and provoked an incessant struggle between his paternal love and the duty he held most sacred.
The injurious calumnies, which had been so skillfully propagated, that men of honor, like his old brothers in arms, were found to attach some credit to them, had been spread with frightful pertinacity by the friends of the Princess de Saint-Dizier.We shall describe hereafter the meaning and object of these odious reports, which, joined with so many other fatal injuries, had filled up the measure of the marshal's indignation.
Inflamed with anger, excited almost to madness by this incessant "stabbing with pins" (as he had himself called it), and offended at some of Dagobert's words, he had spoken harshly to him.But, after the soldier's departure, when left to reflect in silence, the marshal remembered the warm and earnest expressions of the defender of his children, and doubt crossed his mind, as to the reality of the coldness of which he accused them.Therefore, having taken a terrible resolution in case a new trial should confirm his desponding doubts, he entered, as we before said, his, daughters' chamber.The discussion with Dagobert had been so loud, that the sound of the voices had confusedly reached the ears of the two sisters, even after they had taken refuge in their bedroom.So that, on the arrival of their father, their pale faces betrayed their fear and anxiety.At sight of the marshal, whose countenance was also much agitated, the girls rose respectfully, but remained close together, trembling in each other's arms.And yet there was neither anger nor severity on their father's face--only a deep, almost supplicating grief, which seemed to say: "My children, I suffer--I have come to you--console me, love me! or I shall die!"
The marshal's countenance was at this moment so expressive, that, the first impulse of fear once surmounted, the sisters were about to throw themselves into his arms; but remembering the recommendations of the anonymous letter, which told them how painful any effusion of their tenderness was to their father, they exchanged a rapid glance, and remained motionless.By a cruel fatality, the marshal at this moment burned to open his arms to his children.He looked at them with love, he even made a slight movement as if to call them to him; but he would not attempt more, for fear of meeting with no response.Still the poor children, paralyzed by perfidious counsels, remained mute, motionless, trembling!
"It is all over," thought he, as he gazed upon them."No chord of sympathy stirs in their bosom.Whether I go---whether I remain--matters not to them.No, I am nothing to these children--since, at this awful moment, when they see me perhaps for the last time, no filial instinct tells them that their affection might save me still!"
During these terrible reflections, the marshal had not taken his eyes off his children, and his manly countenance assumed an expression at once so touching and mournful--his look revealed so painfully the tortures of his despairing soul--that Rose and Blanche, confused, alarmed, but yielding together to a spontaneous movement, threw themselves on their father's neck, and covered him with tears and caresses.Marshal Simon had not spoken a word; his daughters had not uttered a sound; and yet all three had at length understood one another.A sympathetic shock had electrified and mingled those three hearts.Vain fears, false doubts, lying counsel, all had yielded to the irresistible emotion.which had brought the daughters to their father's arms.A sudden revelation gave them faith, at the fatal moment when incurable suspicion was about to separate them forever.
In a second, the marshal felt all this, but words failed him.Pale, bewildered, kissing the brows, the hair, the hands of his daughters, weeping, sighing, smiling all in turn, he was wild, delirious, drunk with happiness.At length, he exclaimed: "I have found them--or rather, I have never lost them.They loved me, and did not dare to tell me so.I overawed them.And I thought it was my fault.Heavens! what good that does! what strength, what heart, what hope!--Ha! ha!" cried he, laughing and weeping at the same time, whilst he covered his children with caresses; "they may despise me now, they may harass me now--I defy them all.My own blue eyes! my sweet blue eyes! look at me well, and inspire me with new life."
"Oh, father! you love us then as much as we love you?" cried Rose, with enchanting simplicity.
"And we may often, very often, perhaps every day, throw ourselves on your neck, embrace you, and prove how glad we are to be with you?"
