“Well, yes, it was I!” she said. “It was I who came near destroying your
reason, and who repented bitterly on learning too late, how much you had
suffered from this romantic adventure. Once before they had tried you in
a ghost scene, with which I had nothing to do. When they saw how brave
you were, more courageous than the abbé Lamyre, upon whom Caroline had
played a similar trick, to amuse herself, they thought they could treat
you to an apparition, in which there would be nothing very terrifying. I
happened to be here, secretly, as the dowager d’Ionis would not
willingly have suffered my presence. Caroline, struck with my
resemblance to the nymph of the fountain, conceived the idea of
arranging my hair and dressing me in a similar style so that I should
deliver my oracle in due form. Although the dictum was not such as she
desired, it was nevertheless one that you have obeyed religiously, in
not forgetting the care of our honor for a single moment. I left the
next morning, and they kept me in ignorance of the fact that you had
been seriously ill here, owing to this apparition. After your quarrel
with Bernard, I was at Angers, and it was I who sent you the ring that I
caused you to find in your room. This episode was due to Madame d’Ionis,
who had two very old rings exactly alike, and who had previously
arranged everything to carry out the romance. It was she who took it
away from you during your fever, fearing that you should be too much
excited by this appearance of reality, and preferring that you should
think it all a dream.”
“And I never thought so, never! But how did it happen that you regained
possession of this ring that was not your own?”
“Caroline had given it to me,” said she, blushing, “because I thought it
pretty.”
Then she hastened to add:
“When Bernard had won your confidence, I learned at last by what sad
experiences and virtuous deeds you deserved to again behold the green
lady. I then resolved to be your sister and your friend, in order to
repair by the devotion of a life-time, an act of imprudence into which I
had allowed myself to be drawn, and thus to compensate for the trouble I
had caused you. I never expected to please you as much by daylight, as
by the light of the moon. Well, since such is the case, know that you
have not been the only unhappy one, and that”——
“Go on,” I exclaimed, falling at her feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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