# Horrid Mysteries: a Story/Volume 3/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.
The Baron had made us promise, the first evening after our our arrival, to stay some weeks with him; and these weeks were gradually extended to months. Adelheid's natural seriousness returned by degrees. The Baron was fond of hunting, notwithstanding his age and infirmity; it being likewise the favourite diversion of the Count, they were almost the whole day in the forest; and I was fond of nothing. A small, well selected library did, indeed, agreeably fill up many of my ​hours; yet still many dreadful chasms were left, and I was obliged to have recourse to walking to shake off the heaviness of time.
Adelheid being fond of exercise, we frequently met in the garden, where we were least disturbed. She seemed to have dedicated the morning so religiously to serious occupations, that I would have intruded upon her on no account. I was, besides, in a very anxious situation. I was sensible of her attachment to me; but could I venture to presume that this was any thing else than a sister's love?
As for myself, I loved her with an unspeakable ardour, with an uncommon patience, and an unexampled resignation. I was formerly too proud to receive laws from the female sex, but now saw myself at once reduced to the most obedient submission. A young girl directed the course of my thoughts at pleasure, and guided the current of my ideas. I had completely lost the dominion over myself, was ​unexpectedly deprived of what formerly constituted my greatest pride, and there were hours when I shed tears at that loss.
The name of a sister entitled her to many innocent familiarities which transported me beyond myself. The language of friendship flowed from her lips, and I was sure her heart did not give them the lie; yet she never displayed one of those finer symptoms of a strong, over-powering passion; appeared to apprehend and to divine nothing; was always of the same temper, without either reserve or caprice. I did not know that there are female hearts of a nature different from that of the generality. What Adelheid had in common with the rest of her sex, with respect to love, I mistook for a peculiarity of all passions, and tormented myself with my own feelings at a time when I could have been completely happy.
We generally took a walk when the day began to decline. She took familiarly hold of my arm when we were alone; we ​rambled through different parts of the garden, and a large seat of turf, in the most distant corner, was commonly the spot to which we resorted at last. Adelheid always grew more serious, and at length even melancholy, when we approached it, and I was taken with the same mood. The compass of this world was too narrow for her soul; she gathered matter for new images in other regions: night stole upon us, and threw a deeper gloom over our dreams. A sweet melancholy frequently made us weep, without our being able to account for it. I was generally so much agitated, that the power of utterance failed me. She then reclined upon my shoulder, and looked at me with eyes full of benign tenderness. One evening, when we were in the same melancholy disposition, she took hold of my hand, and pressing it with affection, said, "Dear Carlos, the disposition of your sister renders her very unhappy: it would be very well if she were not to sojourn much longer in this world. But ​would you then continue to remember me; and do you think you will know me again in another world?"
This and similar scenes overwhelmed me with a speechlefs melancholy, which gradually began to prey on my vitals. She perceived it, and caught the contagion. The Baron, too, was grieved at my alarming situation. The Count asked me, with tender sympathy, what ailed me? But what could I reply? He imagined that I was happy.
We met one evening in the garden, equally immersed in that gloomy melancholy. I had been in a violent agony of mind all the day long, and almost distracted. Being impatient to get rid of that desponding mood, I took up my gun, and went into the park, where I wandered about till evening was already far advanced. No one knew where I was; and when I was returning to the castle, I met some servants, who had been sent in search of me. Having sent them back, I climbed over the wall of the park, to come ​to the castle by a shorter way, and, to confess the truth, to meet Adelheid, who generally took a walk at that time.
I really met her, after a short ramble through the garden, absorpt in profound reverie, and walking with trembling steps. She did not observe me, although I was only a few paces distant from her, being occupied with a rose, which she alternately took from her bosom and replaced again. She was pale and dejected, carrying my cane in her hand, upon which she reclined, and frequently fixed her looks. I saw her start several times, looking around with a ghastly aspect, and moving her hand as if speaking with some person. At length she saw me standing close by her side, began to stagger, and I had scarcely time enough to receive her in my arms.
"Good God! Marquis, where have you been?" she said, collecting herself immediately; but that very moment a new misfortune happened. My gun being suspended round my shoulder by a strap, I pushed it back to be better able to sup​port Adelheid; but it was unhappily cocked; the trigger came against the branch of a small tree, the fusil went off, and the ball wounded one of my fingers. It bled copiously; and my hand being lifted up, the blood streamed into the face and on the bosom of the Baroness.
This accident restored her entirely to the full use of her senses, instead of depriving her of it. "Eternal God! what have you done?" she exclaimed, terrified, and instantly pulled me towards an adjacent arbour, to examine my wound, poured the contents of her smelling bottle upon her handkerchief, and tied it carefully up. Having dressed my wound with anxious alacrity, she asked me tenderly, "Do you suffer great pains, dear Marquis?" "Very little on my hand," I replied. "Good God! are you wounded in another place besides?" "Alas! here, here I have violent pains!" pointing at my heart. "What pains you there? Will you not tell it your sister?" she resumed, taking hold of my hand. "Dearest Adelheid, how ​can I deserve that angelic goodness, how can I make amends for your uncommon tenderness?" "Is this all that pains you? Have you not deserved my love long since? The best amends you can make for my tenderness is to return my love."
"O, then, I have deserved it, and made ample amends; and you, Adelheid, are in my debt. After this poor heart of mine has wasted almost all its vital powers in a nameless grief, you ask why it bleeds? Oh! it is dreadful to love without hope; and a tranquil return of a violent passion is more galling to a spoiled, insatiable heart, than the most rancorous hatred."
A torrent of tears gushed from her eyes, and she began, after a short pause, "You are very unhappy, Carlos, if my tenderness does not suffice you. I have frequently asked myself, in the hours of silent melancholy, whether I am capable of a more ardent love than that which my heart feels for you? I do not think I am. Tell me, dear Carlos, what do you defire me to do?" "What I desire? Can words describe ​that? I wish that Adelheid would live only for her Carlos, who knows no other happiness but that of thinking of his sweet sister, and would shed his last drop of blood to purchase her felicity."
"Is that all my Carlos wishes? Is not your image the sweetest and the only object of my dreams and of my happiest hours? Does not every blessing of my life depend upon your affection? Does not my heart beat stronger, and my countenance assume a deeper hue, when I see you? Does not your image follow me every where like my shadow? Are you not the only object of my pride, and the sole arbiter of my happiness? Shall I quit, for your sake, father, family, and friends; or live with you in a dreary solitude upon roots? Speak only, Carlos, and your Adelheid will cheerfully obey. The world, nay eternity itself, would be a lonely desert to me without you!"
"Then you consent to become my wife; my faithful, ever adored wife?"
​"Wife, or sister. Is there any difference? Or do you think I have a stronger claim to your love as wife? Here is my hand; I will be any thing you wish me to be."
On our return to the castle, we met the Baron, and the Count, who also had gone in quest of me, and with rapture embraced the recovered son and friend. I was happier than words can describe, but found it impossible to join in the lively sallies of their sportive humour. Adelheid was in the same predicament. The Baron perceived our mutual transport, and his cheerfulness encreased.
I went, on the subsequent morning, to the Baron, as soon as he got up, and discovered the whole to him. He conducted me silently to his daughter, who, as well as myself, encircled his knees, and, lifting us up with tears of affection in his eyes, said kindly, "God bless you, my children: you have prevented me." S******i almost was frantic with joy. Before a month elapsed Adelheid was my wife.
​We resolved to spend the summer in the country, and to go to Paris the ensuing winter. We were unanimous in all our resolutions. The Count was looked upon as a member of our family, and had rendered himself as necessary to the Baron and Adelheid as he was to myself. How unspeakably charming was the summer to me! I never had enjoyed the fine season with so much hilarity and unclouded contentment. We became every day more susceptible of the blessings of a domesticated life; and our sociable happiness assumed a livelier complexion, and encreased with every hour. I generally spent the morning in private with my wife; the dinner bell summoned us to more common pleasures. Every one of us regaled our sociable circle, after dinner, with the new ideas and observations he had gathered in the course of his activity in the house and abroad.
Adelheid was of a very serious character, and my joviality was gradually mellowed by her turn of thinking. She soon ​desired me to relate my history, and loved to hear me speak of Elmira. She was pleased with her melancholy disposition, and lamented her misfortunes; but conceived more predilection for the spirit of the confederation, in which they originated, than I wished: she found its principles good, and censured me now and then for having acted with too much impetuosity of passion. We discoursed on this subject every evening which found us alone. While she attempted to penetrate deeper into the character of the different circumstances, she did, indeed, not reconcile me to a society that had caused me so many sufferings, but, nevertheless, subdued my aversion from its principles.
The choice of our sociable pleasures depended on our humour and on circumstances. Adelheid hunted, fished, or walked, with us in the park. She sang uncommonly well, and played the pianoforte to perfection. I played the flute tolerably well: the Count was an adept on several instruments, and the old Baron ​was delighted with our little concerts. Reading, and the mutual relation of our adventures, filled up the hours which were not dedicated to these and to more serious occupations. None of us had ever enjoyed so much unclouded happiness for so long a period, and none of our sociable circle had ever been so completely sensible of his felicity.
Thus autumn stole upon us unawares. We postponed our departure from time to time, till we could delay it no longer, if we wished to go to the capital. Having informed Count S****** of my marriage, he wrote almost every post day, urging me to come as soon as possible to Paris. We departed, at last; and at the latter end of November arrived at the capital. The political situation of France was, at that time, not yet arrived at that critical state, as to cause a great alteration in the sociable circles. I found my old friends again, united by the bonds of intimacy, and was welcomed with cordial joy. The Count appeared to be cheerful; and, although ​not completely happy, yet satisfied with his Caroline.
It may be easily conceived what a noise the appearance of my wife made at Paris, where every new face charms and attracts the general notice of the fashionable circles. She easily found out the proper sociable tone which suited every circle to which she was introduced; became soon the favourite of all assemblies, and the idol of her acquaintances. She grew in a short time very intimate with Caroline, notwithstanding the disparity of their characters. The Baron was animated with new vigour, joined in all our diversions, and forgot the imbecillities of his advanced age. S******i was his constant attendant and companion; and Don Bernhard was an agreeable addition to our domestic circle. We all were happy, or at least, appeared to be so, when a new accident seemed to be going to disturb our pleasure. Count S****** became, soon after our arrival at Paris, a riddle to myself and all his acquaintances. He grew sad, dis​satisfied, absent, and irascible. His whims were soon very troublesome to us, and he frequently treated his lady in a very harsh manner. I perceived that he preferred Adelheid's company to all other society; but without concluding therefrom upon the real cause of his extraordinary change, looked upon it as the effect of the similarity of their characters, and as an encouragement of his melancholy. I cemented, therefore, that friendship as much as possible, instead of throwing the least impediment into his way. Adelheid, confiding in me and my knowledge of the Count's character, made no difficulty to admit his visits without restraint, and to receive from him an attention which she considered as a matter of course in a friend of her husband. I do not know what particular information S******i had received of the secret cause of his behaviour: in short, he, as well as Don Bernhard, grew every day colder to him, and jointly endeavoured to interrupt his intimacy with my wife, by throwing many little impediments into his ​way. This served, however, only to add fuel to the flame: he intruded himself every where upon her; and at length provoked the voice of slander to such a degree, by the violence of his passion, that S******i and Don Bernhard thought it their duty to inform me of it in plain terms. I did, indeed, ridicule them for their suspicion, but resolved to keep a watchful eye over him, and to take the first opportunity to speak to Adelheid about it.
This opportunity offered itself sooner than I imagined; for she came one evening, after my return from company, to my apartment, holding a paper in her hand, and shedding a torrent of tears.
"Dearest Adelheid!" I exclaimed, "what is the matter?" Having sent my valet away, she sat down by my side, and began, with a trembling voice, "Carlos, I cannot conceal the insult I have received any longer from you. It would be criminal in me to spare your friend on the present occasion. You certainly have observed how Count S****** has behaved to ​me for some time. Read this note, which I have found this moment on my dressing table." She gave me the note and I read:
"Don't fear, beautiful Marchioness, that I shall betray the secret your eyes have confessed to me. Will you receive to-morrow night, at eight o'clock, beneath the large lime-tree, a vow which my looks have made to you some time since?———Lewis, Count of S******."
It was the Count's hand writing; I could not be mistaken. My indignation was, at first, so vehement, that I flung it rather violently upon the table, and knocked a glass down. The servant, whom I had sent out of the room, returned, asking if I had rung for him? Having ordered him to retire, I embraced my wife, and promised to remove that little interruption of her tranquillity, without having recourse to violent measures. I only begged her not to change her deportment to the Count, and to leave every thing to me.
​She seemed, indeed, to leave me with great tranquillity, but was actually far from being easy, and could not help informing her father of it. The Baron could conceal nothing from S******i, and the latter communicated it to Don Bernhard. They all agreed that I ought to meet the Count in the room of my wife, and the latter promised to be present on that occasion.
I was of the same opinion, and resolved to adopt their advice. The Count was, during the day, rather easier than usual. I repaired to the great lime-tree before it had struck eight o'clock, and was astonished to find S****** already there. He read a paper, and kissed it repeatedly; but no sooner did he see me, than he exclaimed, with the greatest fury, "Hell and damnation! I am betrayed; but you, monster in human shape, shall not escape me a second time." With these words he rushed upon me sword in hand.
I was not unarmed, and defended myself against his furious attack; taking all possible care that he should not run against ​the point of my sword. I exclaimed uninterruptedly, "For God's sake, Lewis, desist, and hearken to me!" But all my entreaties were fruitless. He uttered dreadful curses, foaming and grinding his teeth. I disarmed him, at length, and flung his sword into the adjacent thicket. He looked up to heaven, and ejaculated the most shocking execrations.
Loud cries behind me now attracted my attention. I looked round, and discerned Bernhard's red coat through the gloom of night. He was wrestling with a white figure, and on the point of sinking to the ground. Now he actually dropt down. I hastened, half frantic, to assist him: a dagger glittered over his head in one hand of his antagonst, while the other endeavoured to stop his mouth with a handkerchief. I pierced his opponent in the first violence of my passion, and in that moment perceived that he was Amanuel. Tearing the bandage from his head, I beheld Alfonso, my faithful servant, at my feet.
END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.