United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
A cold smile lighted her face, as some arctic moonbeams gleams for an
instant across the spires and doomes of an iceberg.
"Once you attempted to offer me your heart, or what remains of its
ossified ruins; which I declined. Now you tender me your hand and
name, and indeed it appears that like many of the high-born class you
so nobly represent, your heart and hand have never hitherto been
conjoined in your _devoir_. It were a melancholy pity they should be
eternally divorced."
Bending over her, he exclaimed:
"As heaven hears me, I swear I love you better than life, than
everything else that the broad earth holds! You cannot possibly doubt
my sincerity, for you hold the proof in your own hands. Be merciful,
Odille, and end my anxiety."
He caught her hand, and as she attempted no resistance, he raised it
to his moustached lip. Her eyes were resting upon the blue expanse of
water, as if far away, across the vast vista of the Mediterranean she
sought some strengthening influence, some sacred inspiration; and
after a moment, turning them full upon his countenance, she said with
grave stony composure:
"You have asked me to become your wife, knowing full well that no
affection would prompt me to entertain the thought; and you must be
thoroughly convinced that only sordid motives of policy could
influence me to accept you. Do men who marry under such circumstances
honour and trust the women, who as a _dernier ressort_ bear their
names? You are not so weak, so egregiously vain, as to delude
yourself for one instant with the supposition that I could ever love
you?"
"Once my wife, I ask nothing more. Upon my own head and life, be the
failure to make you love me. Only give me this hand, and I will take
your heart Can a lover ask less, and hazard more?"
"And if you fail--woefully, as fail you must?"
"I shall not. You cannot awe or discourage me, for I have yet to find
the heart that successfully defies my worship. But if you remained
indifferent--ah, loveliest! you would not! Even then, I should be
blessed by your presence, your society--and that alone were worth all
other women!"
"Even though it cost you the heavy, galling burden of marriage vows,
an exorbitant price, which only necessity extorts? How vividly we of
the nineteenth century exemplify the wisdom of the classic aphorisms?
_Quem Deus vult perdere, prius dementat_. Have you no fear that you
are seizing with bare fingers a glittering thirsty blade, which may
flesh itself in the hand that dares to caress it?"
"I fear nothing but your rejection; and though you should prove
Judith or Jael, I would disarm you thus."
Again he kissed the fair slender hand, and clasped it tenderly
between both his own.
"A man of your years does not lightly forsake the traditions of his
Caste, and the usages of his ancestors; and what can patricians like
General Laurance hope to secure by stooping to the borders of
_proletaire?_"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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