SEALED LIPS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 310, 29 December 1900, Page 3 (Supplement)

SEALED LIPS.

CHAPTER XX,

"SHALL I MAKE HER HATE ME?"

The third day after his arrival at Pomeyras Godefroid went out from the house alone, about niue o'clock in the morning', leaving his wife still sleeping. During the two preceding clays he had followed this marvellous creature, step by step, like a dog-. He could not take his eyes from her, and was astonished to know that a human being could feel such happiness as he felt. Every moment brought him new delights. When she spoke the sound of her voice threw him into ecstasy. When she was silent he looked at her trembling with mute adoration, watching the opportunity to anticipate his idol's slightest desire, and i to spare her the slightest movement. J At the table he would forget to eat. Sometimes, when they were alone, he would jump up to wait upon her, kneeling at her feet like a slave, ready to cry with joy when she thanked him with her constrained smile. All that poets have written of lovers, jealous of the air that their mistresses breathe, of the clothes that touch them, or the insect that flies near their cheek, all these ingenious and charming imaginations were realities to him. For two days he had not written a line, touched a box, or taken one step without his ■wife either in the house or in the garden. To live like this for jears! His imagination'refused to conceive a more delicious fate, and in his proud joy of this first love of his life, this man, who was forty-five years old, was surprised to read so often this blasphemj* of morose philosophers: "Complete happiness is never found here below." "It does exist, I have found it. I have it," thought he. "I am happy!" And he added, confident in these first hours of happiness: i "We are happy!" I But the second evening, at sunset, as he was walking with Jenny in the garden, he left her for a moment to gather some roses that seemed to please her. When he rejoined her she was standing with her arms at her side looking very tired, and gazing at the distant mountains. He stopped to admire her in this pose, for he admired her in any way. Alas! a deep sigh came from the young woman, and without realising it she let fall from her lips this heart-broken cry: "Oh! my God!" Then Godefroid realised that she at least was not happy- He looked sadly

at the roses that he carried, regretting that ho could not put them back on the bushes, for he understood that all the flowers, all the caresses, and all the treasures in the world, offered by him, would be powerless to satisfy this heart, that was already sighing with weariness. His was pierced by the cold pang' of despair. Never, he. saw clearly, could he obtain anything but a resigned tenderness from this one for whom his entire being was overfloAving with love. What use to admit his error? What good to avow that he had committed one of those crimes of whflch one dies, aud which is the death.of others? The freshly cut roses that he held in his hand could not return to the bush that gave them birth. Jenny Sanval, this other flower ruthlessly plucked, could never become the happy child 'that she was when running- through these same walks which stilled her to-day like a prison cell. During'the long hours of a sleepless night Godefroid had time to reflect on the present, and to forsee the future, to turn over in his mind all the ways of gaining her heart, which he seized like an unscrupulous malefactor. "I must," thought he, "have the courage to leave her sometimes. When she sees me then she will greet me better, perhaps." This morning, then, he went out early and alone to carry out his programme, but governments and husband a are to be pitied who believe

[Translated from the French of Leon de»Tinseau.]

birth-place and the gratitude that she should always have toward the man who had given her that pleasure. She added at the close: "He will be recompensed for it, for the air that we breathe here is the best in France. He will soon entire1 y regain his health, for he rests. You see that 1 serve as secretary. Write us without delay, tell us of your journey and the new country." These lines convinced Godefroid thta there had never been any love passages between his wife and Patrice. SviJl there was something about this friendship that made him c-uelly jealous. If he had dared he would not have sent the letter. But what right had he to retain it,- when it had be^n agreed upon that she should write it? What right to deprive this young woman buried in a deser+, after having known a most exciting life of a pleasure which she had .set her heari on? ">yne already feels lonely," thought Godefroid. "Shall I make her hate me? Alas! since my love weighs upon her, she shall have at least my esteem and confidence." The poor husband, struggling- so soon with his misery, got out of it in the ordinary way. "This letter, must go, decidedly,' 5 thought he. "As for the others, we will see. Perhaps this zeal for writing will pass away." At the bottom of the last page he added a few lines, as affectionate, as he could, but which betrayed the constrain which conjugial life had put between the two friends. While he was writing he could hear his w\f» coming and going in the next room, giving orders sometimes in French and sometimes in the Beam patois, according as she addressed her old servants or the new ones she had brought with her from Paris. "She did not open a box or drive a nail until she wrote him." That was the thought that troubled Godefroid as ha directed the letter to 0 l'orrell. "Oh! how I would like to change place with him!" sighed he. Not once during the days wLioli followed did the young woman speak of Patrice or of the letter that she had , written and the expected response, j However, when this reply reached Godefroid it goes without saying that Jenny spied it among the mail, although she had never seen Patrice's handwriting. Her husband read the letter first, then passed it to her without saying a word. It was a sort of a journal written with no enthusiasm nor

complaints. One could nave printed it : in any paper without changing a word, there' was nothing intimate or sentimental in tlie whole letter. \ Fifteen days after Madame Gode- ! froid replied to the hermit's letter—cs i she jokingly called trim. She was very careful never to allude to him in a sympathetic way. He replied with the same delay, after this the correspondence,was tacitly arranged on this footing, but as long as it lasted not one line was written that did not pass under Godefroid's eyes.

CHAPTER XXI. "YOU WILL NEVER RETURN TO FRANCE." In consequence of Madame Sauval's axrivaJ, which was about the first of May, Godefroid's installation in Beam took a definite form. He 'had tried, before he left Paris, to procure a month's conjugal tete-a-tete, and regretfully contented himself with the two weeks that he obtained with difficulty from "his mother-in-law, who said'she could not live two days without her daughter. It was, nevertheless, with a feeling- of relief that he saw Jenny's mother arrive. Not once "had he seen any appearance of rebellion or complaint on the youngwoman's part, but at rare intervals he would hear that weary sigh that j threw him into despair. The pre- j sence of a third party in their solitude i might produce a useful diversion. | Madame SauvaPs return into her

own domain had. something of the melancholy porap that formerly signalized tie return, of refugees into their own countries and to tlieir own estates. If the notary of the place had not been discreet he would have told that by virtue of certain, deeds, followed, by a change o-f stocks, Pomeyras had become Godefroid's. For She present poor Sauval's widow took care that these little details should not be known to her neighbours, and forgot them as quickly as possible herself. As to the future, she knew that one could do many things with God's help and a good will. Madame Sauval took the reins of power into her own hands, and nobody disputed her, Godefroid less than anybody else, and in this Bearnais Eden there was one person to be seen whose plans and desires seemed to be fulfilled. Madame Sauval had no intention of spending- her days in this kingdom, composed of a lawn, vegetable garden, a poultry yard, and a stable. But the truly ambitious can content themselves for a time in the pleasure of watching- events, that are working in a quiet way to establish, in the end, their fortunes. Like the illustrious, vanquished one, who stood on his rock at Elba and watched at his feet the Inconstant, with its sails slowly filling under a favourable breeze, Martscha, in her pleasant exile at Pomeyras, kept her eyes fixed on the mysterious shore that she only had in view. She had hardly arrived before she had made her son-in-law sign a deed of purchase of a small farm which joined their estate, and from that time she had an outlet for the spirit of commanding that was in her. Even the oxen yoked to the heavy carts, hurried their heavy steps when at a turn in the road they saw this terrible mistress watching them at work. The continual struggle against draughts, rain, storms, idleness, or the tricks of the small farmers enamoured her, and soon she had to j contend against an enemy morei

worthy of her, that was malice and jealousy. While Jenny, who cared less for seeing the sunrise and going1 a,bout the place in sabots, arranged the house and picked her flowers, a league was organised against them by the neighbours about Pomeyras. To these very ignorant, and virtuous country people, destined to live and die without having gone beyond Bordeaux, there waa very little difference between an opera singer and the lowest of concert singers. Both sang on the stage. Meanwhile It was reported that some one had read in a.J Paris journal that "La Sauval" had. buried herself in the country because she had lost her voice. The better disposed were ready to believe that there had been a civil marriage, while others said that the couple had brought to this virtuous soil the fatal example of free marriages so common in the theatrical world of Paris. Very soon, thanks to Madame Sa.uval, the cure of the place soon formed the habit of dining once a week at the chateau. This was considered a proof that the household was according to the rules of the church. From thence Godefroid could have had his house full, but he was intractable on. j that point, and his doors were closed j iipon all idots who had insulted his i wife. ■ • ■; ■ ' 1

It was opened one day to receive ia. deputation that came from Biar-1 ritz. These ambassadors P?e-' sented themselves with many apolb-1 gies for having come unannounced. Perhaps their visit was not a surprise at all, for Madame Sauval had, not put her foot outside the house that day, and her daughter, who knew | her well, expected something was' going- to happen when she saw her | mother's toilet. Godefroid came into the room, and received the men in a sulky manner, while they saluted him with low bows and called, him "dear master." ■ "We are organising," said they, "a concert for the benefit of our poor people. If we could only announce on our programme the grant! aria for Adossides by Madame Godefroid, people would come from Madrid, and the receipts would be immense." Godefroid thought it over, weighing the pros and cons as to his decision. • "You have not read t'he'P.aris journals then, gentlemen?" said the qiieenj mother, with majestic irony. "They say that my daughter has lost her voice, and that is why she married." At these cunningly calculated words Godefroid seemed to emerge from his f indecision. Jenny came iri just then, and they almost prostrated . themselves before her. When she knew of their request she looked at her husband with the look of one who only wishes to be persuaded. This oppoi--tunity to amuse herself tempted her, and more yet, the idea of singing for the poor as a great lady, after having sung for the rich for money, pleased I her. The day was appointed forthwithj and all the details arranged. The ambassadors departed over-, whelmed with joy, and during the days which followed at "Pomeyras everybody was busy. Godefroid resumed his music, and made his wife practice. Her voice was never in better condition. Madame'Sauval wrote

several letters, which she took great care to post herself. The concert took place on the appointed day. Upon the list of patrons were to be" seen the names of a dozen aristocratic Europeans. One of the last on the list was that of Prince Kemeneff, chamberlain to the Czar. \ Madame Godefroid had as dazzling a triumph as a woman, could, ever dream of. Her voice, talent, beauty, refinement, toilet, and wit were lauded to the skies, and, to be just, she merited this ovation. She became at once the favourite of a galaxy of ladies, mostly Russians, who 'had applauded her at the opera, biit now ntreated her like one of them. Ker-

' enefii was irreproachable in his reserve, and gave an example of his respect by "introducing her to his ! friends. " He had owned for several years one of the most elegant villas !in Biarritz. Although the young woman was too sensible to have her head, turnf?-' this success, she could not be insen-; sible of it. But most of all she felt i pleased at being received as one of them by, women in the very best, so-; ciety of Europe. Invitations were showered upon her so fast that she was unable to accept all. Instead .of passing two days at Biarritz, as she had intended, she remained there over a week. She left overwhelmed with caresses, promising-, as ' one promises many things in society, j to visit St. Petersburg the next year. | "When the emperot sees yiou and the

empress hears you," they said to fcer, will never return to France." 'She was too clear sighted not to sea that- she owed this enthusiasm—at least a great pa<rt of it—to Priaee Kemeneff. When she saw himso as* sidious at first she had a. defiant feel* i ing, fearing- that scans day b,« woulcj demand recompense for services T«nd- ; ered. But Sargft Kemeneff was a ' gentleman in deeds as well as thoug-hts, slighting women only when tney dfclig-hted to be scorned. In early life the prince had been fortunate enough to meet a very beautiful, worthy woman, who would not listen ,to him. This was a very useful lesson, ; and obliged him to believe in the Tirtue of women, or at least in the possibility of it, which is a great deal. Since that time the recklessness of his age and race, his trips from one end of Europe to the other, the different people b.e had met, the examples before his eyes, all these had given him that mixture tof frivolity and philosophy, passionate i ardour, and easy resignation which. distinguishes certain, men. Kemeneff loved Jenny more sincerely than he had ever loved before, and if it would not have seriously compromised his interests he would have married her if possible. It is difficult for men like us, who are unaccustomed to traditions of obedience and ideas of respect, to realize how heavily the approbation or blame of the Czar weighed upon these Russian gentlemen. | Kemeneff was in great despair when, ;he learned that Jenny was married, but he loyally resigned himself to see another obtain Miat he had never asked for. After serving a. month at the palace, followed by a month of pleasure in Paris, he established himself for the summer at his villa in Biarritz, and when he learned by a letter from Madame Sauval that his old love was living so near, his first movement was to overcome all remembrances of his love for her. But when he saw Jenny miore beautiful and attractive than ever his old passion for her returned, with one more incentive, for he found an exquisite, elegant society woman distinguished above all others. He had so much chivalrous respect for

her, so much reserved admiration, his deviotion took such a delicate adoration that Godefroid, in spite of himself, conceived more esteem than jealousy for him. When he left Biarritz^ he exacted a promise from the prince to visit Pomeyras, a politeness, to tell the truth, almost forced upon him, for it was to the prince that Jenny owed the greater part of her pleasures as well as her success during their short sojourn. Sometimes a fear ' that he kept to himself haunted Godefroid.

"Lain lost," thought he, "if this applause makes my wife regret her past, and if she returns home with a taste for this society which she has just entered. That is the way that I should surely lose her." He was soon reassured, for Jenny left Biarritz without any regrets; she even refused her husband's offer to remain a few days longer.

"If you Avish to make me . very, happy," said she—it was the first request that she had ever made—"let us take a roundabout way home. I would like to se e my dear mountains

again." The next day Madame Sauval went home alone, and the couple plunged into the depths of the Pyrenees, choosing for their stopping places the vil- . lages ignored by the crowd. Jenny took great pleasure in doing the hon- - ours of the grand sights to her'husband, enjoying them, herself with, ar- i tistic enthusiasm. Godefroid .noticed that even in the midst of the sublime horrors of Maladetta and the whirl of fetes at. Biarritz that she did not forget O'Farrell. She jwatched for the arrival of the African, mail with the . same interest, and in order to reply the usual day sh e sat up, two hours in, . spite of "her fatigue from, a tiresome,, excursion, when Godefroid urged ,her to go to bed, saying that for once Patrice could miss a letter. ' .•.. :■ "Oh, no," replied the young.wife. .. "He must never.think, even for twenty- . four hours, that you have forgotten him." ■ V . :• . : Toward the .end of September the two tourists were obliged to leave;the mountains on account of the cold.; Jenny was painfully surprised to see -■■ how much her husband suffered from > it, for she had thought that his health, was more permanently re-established. He; seemed profoundly discouraged-by this relapse, although it was not serious apparently. He wished to stop in Pan for a day; There, for the first time' since their\ : marriage, he left Jenny alone the entire ■'"; morning. On the return of the guilty one she complained in an affiectidihate way. -■ ' • ■ .-= • "Why did you not employ the time to write to 4-lgeria?" said h.e. ' " She did not reply, judging from his ?'i air that he was in one of • his sober moods. She did not 'clare'ask' him where he had been, and..by i-his; re- ; serve she saved him. the trouble of ly- • ing. He had promised himself that nobody should know,'hoW 'or1 wJiere he " passed his morning, for. Jie had been. with his lawyer, and had mode .his will. ' • ■•■.", (To be continued.)