Every evening, after your departure, I have no other thought.I wish to find the means of uniting yourself and me--in the eyes of God, not of the law--without offending the habits and prejudices of a world, in which it may suit us hereafter to live.Yes, my friend! when you know whose are the noble hands, that are to join ours together, who is to bless and glorify God in our union--a sacred union, that will leave us worthy and free--you will say, I am sure, that never purer hands could have been laid upon us.Forgive me, friend! all this is in earnest--yes, earnest as our love, earnest as our happiness.If my words seem to you strange, my thoughts unreasonable, tell it me, love! We will seek and find some better means, to reconcile that we owe to heaven, with what we owe to the world and to ourselves.It is said, that lovers are beside themselves,"
added the young lady, with a smile, "but I think that no creatures are more reasonable."
"When I hear you speak thus of our happiness," said Djalma, deeply moved, "with so much calm and earnest tenderness, I think I see a mother occupied with the future prospects of her darling child--trying to surround him with all that can make him strong, valiant, and generous--
trying to remove far from him all that is ignoble and unworthy.You ask me to tell you if your thoughts seem strange to me, Adrienne.You forget, that what makes my faith in our love, is my feeling exactly as you do.What offends you, offends me also; what disgusts you, disgusts me.Just now, when you cited to me the laws of this country, which respect in a woman not even a mother's right--I thought with pride of our barbarous countries, where woman, though a slave, is made free when she becomes a mother.No, no; such laws are not made either for you or me.
Is it not to prove your sacred respect for our love, to wish to raise it above the shameful servitude that would degrade it? You see, Adrienne, I have often heard said by the priests of my country, that there were beings inferior to the gods, but superior to every other creature.I did not believe those priests; but now I do." These last words were uttered, not in the tone of flattery, but with an accent of sincere conviction, and with that sort of passionate veneration and almost timid fervor, which mark the believer talking of his faith; but what is impossible to describe, is the ineffable harmony of these almost religious words, with the mild, deep tone of the young Oriental's voice--as well as the ardent expression of amorous melancholy, which gave an irresistible charm to his enchanting features.
Adrienne had listened to Djalma with an indescribable mixture of joy, gratitude, and pride.Laying her hand on her bosom, as if to keep down its violent pulsations, she resumed, as she looked at the prince with delight: "Behold him, ever the same!--just, good, great!--Oh, my heart!
my heart! how proudly it beats.Blessed be God, who created me for this adored lover! He must mean to astonish the world, by the prodigies of tenderness and charity, that such a love may produce.They do not yet know the sovereign might of free, happy, ardent love.Yes, Djalma! on the day when our hands are joined together, what hymns of gratitude will ascend to heaven!--Ah! they do not know the immense, the insatiable longing for joy aria delight, which possesses two hearts like ours; they do not know what rays of happiness stream from the celestial halo of such a flame!--Oh, yes! I feel it.Many tears will be dried, many cold hearts warmed, at the divine fire of our love.And it will be by the benedictions of those we serve, that they will learn the intoxication of our rapture!"
To the dazzled eyes of Djalma, Adrienne appeared more and more an ideal being--partaking of the Divinity by her goodness, of the animal nature by passion--for, yielding to the intensity of excitement, Adrienne fixed upon Djalma looks that sparkled with love.
'Then, almost beside himself, the Asiatic fell prostrate at the feet of the maiden, and exclaimed, in a supplicating voice: "Mercy! my courage fails me.Have pity on me! do not talk thus.Oh, that day! what years of my life would I not give to hasten it!"
"Silence! no blasphemy.Do not your years belong to me?"
"Adrienne! you love me!"
The young lady did not answer; but her half-veiled, burning glance, dealt the last blow to reason.Seizing her hands in his own, he exclaimed, with a tremulous voice: "That day, in which we shall mount to heaven, in which we shall be gods in happiness--why postpone it any longer?"
"Because our love must be consecrated by the benediction of heaven."
"Are we not free?"
"Yes, yes, my love; we are free.Let us be worthy of our liberty!"
"Adrienne! mercy!"
"I ask you also to have mercy--to have mercy on the sacredness of our love.Do not profane it in its very flower.Believe my heart! believe my presentiments! to profane it would be to kill.Courage, my adored lover! a few days longer--and then happiness--without regret, and without remorse!"
"And, until then, hell! tortures without a name! You do not, cannot know what I suffer when I leave your presence.Your image follows me, your breath burns me up; I cannot sleep, but call on you every night with sighs and tears--just as I called on, you, when I thought you did not love me--and yet I know you love me, I know you are mine.But to see you every day more beautiful, more adored--and every day to quit you more impassioned--oh! you cannot tell--"
Djalma was unable to proceed.What he said of his devouring tortures, Adrienne had felt, perhaps even more intensely.Electrified by the passionate words of Djalma, so beautiful in his excitement, her courage failed, and she perceived that an irresistible languor was creeping over her.By a last chaste effort of the will, she rose abruptly, and hastening to the door, which communicated with Mother Bunch's chamber, she exclaimed: "My, sister! help me!"
In another moment, Mdlle.de Cardoville, her face bathed in tears, clasped the young sempstress in her arms; while Djalma knelt respectfully on the threshold he did not dare to pass.
