The Sin of Monsieur Antoine, Volume 2 (of 2) and Leone LeoniSand, George
General
The Sin of Monsieur Antoine, Volume 2 (of 2) and Leone Leoni
Sand, George
French fiction -- 19th century
Leoni asked me to call the servants. I obeyed, and laid the princess's
head gently on a cushion. But just as I was passing through the door,
some undefinable magnetic force stopped me and made me turn. I saw the
marquis approach the invalid as if to assist her; but his face seemed so
wicked and Leoni's so pale, that I was afraid to leave the dying woman
alone with them. Heaven knows what vague ideas passed through my brain.
I hastened to the bed and, glancing at Leoni in terror, I said: "Beware!
beware!"--"Of what?" he replied, with an air of amazement. In truth I
did not know myself, and I was ashamed of the species of madness I had
shown. The marquis's ironical air completed my discomfiture. I went out
and returned a moment later with the princess's women and the physician.
He found the princess suffering from a terrible nervous spasm, and said
that we must try to make her swallow a spoonful of her sedative mixture
at once. We tried in vain to force her teeth apart.
"Let the signora try it," said one of the women, pointing to me; "the
princess won't take anything from anybody else, and never refuses what
she gives her."
I did try, and the dying woman readily yielded. Through force of habit
she pressed my hand feebly as she returned the spoon to me; then she
violently threw up her arms, raised herself as if she were about to jump
out of bed, and fell back dead on her pillow.
This sudden death made a terrible impression on me; I fainted and was
carried from the room. I was ill several days, and, when I returned to
life, Leoni informed me that I was thenceforth in my own house; that the
will had been opened and found unassailable in every respect; that we
were the possessors of a handsome fortune and a magnificent palace.
"I owe it all to you, Juliette," he said, "and, more than that, I owe it
to you that I am able to think without shame or remorse of our friend's
last moments. Your delicacy, your angelic goodness, encompassed them
with attentions and lessened their melancholy. She died in your arms,
that rival whom any other woman than you would have strangled; and you
wept for her as if she were your sister! You are good! too good, too
good! Now enjoy the fruit of your courage; see how happy I am to be rich
and to be able to surround you once more with all the luxury that you
crave."
"Hush," I replied; "now is the time when I blush and suffer. So long as
that woman was here, and I was sacrificing my love and my pride to her,
I took comfort in the thought that I was really fond of her, and that I
was sacrificing myself for her and for you. Now I see only what was base
and detestable in my situation. How everybody must despise us!"
"You are greatly mistaken, my dear girl," said Leoni; "everybody bows
down to us and honors us because we are rich."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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