occurrence for a gambler to lose not only what he possesses but
also what he has not." Morrel pronounced these words with perfect
calmness; Valentine looked at him a moment with her large,
scrutinizing eyes, endeavoring not to let Morrel discover the grief
which struggled in her heart. "But, in a word, what are you going
to do?" asked she.
"I am going to have the honor of taking my leave of you,
mademoiselle, solemnly assuring you that I wish your life may be so
calm, so happy, and so fully occupied, that there may be no place
for me even in your memory."
"Oh!" murmured Valentine.
"Adieu, Valentine, adieu!" said Morrel, bowing.
"Where are you going?" cried the young girl, extending her hand
through the opening, and seizing Maximilian by his coat, for she
understood from her own agitated feelings that her lover's calmness
could not be real; "where are you going?"
"I am going, that I may not bring fresh trouble into your
family: and to set an example which every honest and devoted man,
situated as I am, may follow."
"Before you leave me, tell me what you are going to do,
Maximilian." The young man smiled sorrowfully. "Speak, speak!" said
Valentine; "I entreat you."
"Has your resolution changed, Valentine?"
"It cannot change, unhappy man; you know it must not!" cried the
young girl. "Then adieu, Valentine!" Valentine shook the gate with
a strength of which she could not have been supposed to be
possessed, as Morrel was going away, and passing both her hands
through the opening, she clasped and wrung them. "I must know what
you mean to do!" said she. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, fear not," said Maximilian, stopping at a short distance,
"I do not intend to render another man responsible for the rigorous
fate reserved for me. Another might threaten to seek M. Franz, to
provoke him, and to fight with him; all that would be folly. What
has M. Franz to do with it? He saw me this morning for the first
time, and has already forgotten he has seen me. He did not eventime, and has already forgotten he has seen me. He did not even
know I existed when it was arranged by your two families that you
should be united. I have no enmity against M. Franz, and promise
you the punishment shall not fall on him."
"On whom, then! — on me?"
"On you? Valentine! Oh, heaven forbid! Woman is sacred; the
woman one loves is holy."
"On yourself, then, unhappy man; on yourself?"
"I am the only guilty person, am I not?' said Maximilian.
"Maximilian!" said Valentine, "Maximilian, come back, I entreat
you!" He drew near with his sweet smile, and but for his paleness
one might have thought him in his usual happy mood. "Listen, my
dear, my adored Valentine," said he in his melodious and grave
tone; "those who, like us, have never had a thought for which we
need blush before the world, such may read each other's hearts. I
never was romantic, and am no melancholy hero. I imitate neither
Manfred nor Anthony; but without words, protestations, or vows, my
life has entwined itself with yours; you leave me, and you are
right in doing so, — I repeat it, you are right; but in losing you,
I lose my life.
"The moment you leave me, Valentine, I am alone in the world. My
sister is happily married; her husband is only my brother-in-law,
that is, a man whom the ties of social life alone attach to me; no
one then longer needs my useless life. This is what I shall do; I
will wait until the very moment you are married, for I will not
lose the shadow of one of those unexpected chances which are
sometimes reserved for us, since M. Franz may, after all, die
before that time, a thunderbolt may fall even on the altar as you
approach it, — nothing appears impossible to one condemned to die,
and miracles appear quite reasonable when his escape from death is
concerned. I will, then, wait until the last moment, and when my
misery is certain, irremediable, hopeless, I will write a
confidential letter to my brother-in-law, another to the prefect of
police, to acquaint them with my intention, and at the corner ofpolice, to acquaint them with my intention, and at the corner of
some wood, on the brink of some abyss, on the bank of some river, I
will put an end to my existence, as certainly as I am the son of
the most honest man who ever lived in France."
Valentine trembled convulsively; she loosened her hold of the
gate, her arms fell by her side, and two large tears rolled down
her cheeks. The young man stood before her, sorrowful and resolute.
"Oh, for pity's sake," said she, "you will live, will you not?"
"No, on my honor," said Maximilian; "but that will not affect
you. You have done your duty, and your conscience will be at rest."
Valentine fell on her knees, and pressed her almost bursting heart.
"Maximilian," said she, "Maximilian, my friend, my brother on
earth, my true husband in heaven, I entreat you, do as I do, live
in suffering; perhaps we may one day be united."
"Adieu, Valentine," repeated Morrel.
"My God," said Valentine, raising both her hands to heaven with
a sublime expression, "I have done my utmost to remain a submissive
daughter; I have begged, entreated, implored; he has regarded
neither my prayers, my entreaties, nor my tears. It is done," cried
she, willing away her tears, and resuming her firmness, "I am
resolved not to die of remorse, but rather of shame. Live,
Maximilian, and I will be yours. Say when shall it be? Speak,
command, I will obey." Morrel, who had already gone some few steps
away, again returned, and pale with joy extended both hands towards
Valentine through the opening. "Valentine," said he, "dear
Valentine, you must not speak thus — rather let me die. Why should
I obtain you by violence, if our love is mutual? Is it from mere
humanity you bid me live? I would then rather die."
"Truly," murmured Valentine, "who on this earth cares for me, if
he does not? Who has consoled me in my sorrow but he? On whom do my
hopes rest? On whom does my bleeding heart repose? On him, on him,
always on him! Yes, you are right, Maximilian, I will follow you. I