# The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 32

CHAPTER II
the continuation of the history of isabelle
"I informed you at first that Dorimene's having no other engagement, the advantage of the match, and her father's commands, were the reasons which induced her to give her hand to the Marquis de Stainville; his excessive fondness for her, and making it his whole study to promote her happiness, worked so strongly on her mind, that, in return, she did everything in her power to oblige him, and he flattered himself that all her affections were centred in him; nor, indeed, did she ever seem so much inclined to be pleased with the admiration of other men, as the custom of France would even allow her without censure. But when the Chevalier Dumont first told us his story, she was affected with it to an incredible degree; whole days and nights passed, and she could fix her thoughts on no other subject.
"The tenderness he expressed for his mother, his justifying his father, notwithstanding all he suffered by his conduct, with his sincere friendship for the Marquis her husband, worked so strongly on her imagination, that she thought giving way to the highest esteem for him would be the greatest proof imaginable of her virtue; but it was not long before she was undeceived, for she found her inclination for the Chevalier was built rather on what we call taste (because we want a word to express it by) than any approbation of his conduct. The great agitation of her mind, between her endeavours to conquer her ​passion and the continual fright she was in, lest by any accident she should discover it, threw her into that lingering illness which I have before mentioned.
"The good-nature of the Chevalier Dumont, with his friendship for the Marquis de Stainville, led him to use his utmost endeavours to amuse and divert her; besides, there is always a higher respect paid by every man to such beauty as Dorimene's than what other women meet with. This, with the melancholy which then possessed him on my account, sometimes inclined her to flatter herself that their passion was reciprocal; but then, in a moment, the utmost horror succeeded, and she resolved rather to die than sacrifice her virtue, or be guilty of the least treachery to such a husband. This was the reason she so often entreated to be alone; for every fresh view of Dumont served only to increase her agony, and at that time she heartily wished to fly the sight of him for ever.
"All my brother's assiduous cares to please her only aggravated her sorrows, as they continually loaded her with reproaches for not returning such uncommon, such tender love. However, while she remained often alone, and her resolution enabled her to deny herself the pleasure of seeing the Chevalier as much as was possible without being rude, she fancied, whatever she suffered, she should command herself enough not to transgress the bounds of decency or the laws of virtue.
"But one evening, when the Marquis prevailed on her by great entreaties to suffer us all to stay with her, hoping by that means to dissipate her melancholy, and make her more cheerful, her watchfnl eyes (although we had never any otherwise than by I our looks disclosed it to each other) found out the secret of our love. This overset all her resolutions; and from that moment her torment was so great, whenever she thought we had an opportunity of ​being alone, that she resolved to pretend an amendment in her health, and put on a cheerfulness (which was far from her heart) in order to make it probable that company was now agreeable to her, and so to keep us always in her apartment.
"But her passions were too violent to be artful; and she could not have continued this long, had not her brother's arrival given a new turn to all our affairs.
"The suddenness of her recovery, which the Marquis thought was owing to Vieuville's lively conversation, was really the result of her seeing the passion I had inspired him with: she was quite enlivened with the imagination that this new lover would make me forget Dumont, and thought her virtue could stand any test but that of seeing him another's. This was the reason she appeared so eager for me to marry Vieuville; and indeed she spoke truth, when she so often declared that her own happiness depended on my returning her brother's love. Dumont's leaving us at that time still contributed to the fully persuading her that it would be impossible for me to resist the charms of the young and beautiful Vieuville; my obstinately refusing him was such a disappointment to her hopes, that at first she could hardly forbear giving vent to her passions, and quarrelling with me on that account. But after he was irretrievably married, and she knew it was impossible ever to bring about that scheme, Dumont's absence and her own returning health enabled her seriously to set about the conquering her passion; which, in a ;ottle time, she thought she had so effectually got the better of, that she fancied she could even converse with the Chevalier with great indifference. My brother's ecstasies on her recovery were not to be expressed; and he now thought of nothing but completing his own happiness by contributing to that of his friend, and letting ​him experience the pleasures which arise from delicate and successful love.
"When first Dorimene heard of this design, she was a little ruffled, and could not forbear making the answer I have already related to you; namely, that she supposed this was the reason her brother was treated with such contempt. But, however, she carried her resolution so far, that at last she thought she could bear to see us married with tolerable patience: and, when everything was concluded on, the fear lest she should reveal her thoughts made her force herself to congratulate us with more good-humour than I had seen her show from the time I had refused Vieuville. But in that very instant Dumnont's look, and the return he made to her obliging compliment on the subject his soul most delighted in the thoughts of, awakened all her former passion; and dreadful experience taught her that to his absence alone she owed all her boasted philosophy.
"That very evening she took to her bed; and the violent agitations of her mind threw her into that fever which gave us all so much affliction, and had like to have cost her her life; but she recovered of that distemper of her body only to feel that much more terrible one of her mind. She began to think she had sacrificed enough to virtue in what she had already suffered; and when the idea of Dumont's being about to be given to another forced itself on her fancy, rage and madness succeeded, and all the most desperate actions appeared as trifles to her in comparison of seeing that fatal day. Sometimes she resolved to tell him of her love; but then the sense of shame worked so strongly on her, that she abandoned that thought, and fancied she could suffer the utmost misery rather than submit to so infamous an action. The remembrance of the Marquis de Stainville's unparalleled love for her, and the sense of her duty to him, for a moment enabled her to form ​resolutions of preferring death, or what is yet worse, a life of torment, to the wronging her husband.
"But then immediately Dumont's image presented itself to her imagination, softened her a little into a sense of pleasure, and banished every other thought from her mind; but this lasted not long, before the idea that he must be another's spitefully intruded itself on her memory. Horror and confusion took place of the pleasing scenes with which she had just before been indulging her fancy; and then, instead of thinking on arguments to calm her passion, she turned all her endeavours to find out what would best excuse it; and pleaded to herself that she might have been married when first my brother saw her; nay, she might have happened to have been wife to his best friend; and that then, perhaps, he would have found it as difficult to resist the torrent of his inclinations as she now did to subdue hers. The thought of being his friend's wife quite overcame her, and sighs and tears were her only relief from these agonizing reflections.
"She endured several of these conflicts within her own bosom, without any other consequence attending them than the pain she suffered; but when the day was again fixed for our marriage, her passion grew outrageous, overleaped all bounds, and honour, virtue, and duty were found but shallow banks, which immediately gave way to the overflowing of the mighty torrent. Something she was resolved to do to prevent my marrying Dumont; although her own, her husband's, nay, even the Chevalier's perdition, should be the consequence of the attempt.
"One morning, when the Marquis de Stainville was gone out, and I happened to be in my own chamber, she saw Dumont from her window walking towards that very grotto where she had at first beheld him: she stayed till she thought he was seated there, and then followed him; but such was the condition of ​her mind, that her limbs had hardly strength to carry her. As soon as she was come near enough for him to see her, he got up, made her a respectful bow, and walked towards her. He began to talk to her on some indifferent subject; but she did not seem to hear what he said; on the contrary, she suddenly made a full stop, and stared so wildly round her, that poor Dumont began to be frightened, and asked her if she was ill. She made him no answer, but fixed her eyes on the ground, as if she had not the power to move them; like a criminal, all pale, trembling, and confused, she stood before him. It was in vain for her to endeavour to give her thoughts a vent, for her body was too weak to bear the violent combustion of her mind, and she fainted away at his feet. He immediately caught her up in his arms, and called out for help; but the house was so far distant, that before he could be heard she came to herself again, and in a weak low voice begged him to carry her to the grotto; where, as soon as she was seated, for want of strength to speak, she burst into tears. The good-natured Dumont saw her mind was labouring with something too big for utterance, and entreated her to tell him if she had any affliction that he could be so happy to remove; for that the Marquis de Stainville's lady might command him to the utmost of his power; nor should he think his life too great a sacrifice to serve the woman in whom all the happiness of his friend was centred.
"Dorimene now had gone so far, she resolved, whatever it cost her, to lay open all her grief to the Chevalier; and after a little pause, replied, 'Oh! take care what you say; for to remove the torment I now daily endure, and ease me of all those agonies which work me to distraction, you must sacrifice what, perhaps, is dearer to you than your life; you must give up Isabelle, you must forget the Marquis de Stainville was ever your friend—And, oh! how ​shall I have strength to utter it? my interest in Dumont must be on my own account.' When she had pronounced these words, shame glowed in blushes all over her face, nor did she dare to look up to see in what manner they were received.
"Dumont was struck with horror and amazement at what he had heard; he could not persuade himself he was awake. The words, 'You must give up Isabelle, and forget the Marquis de Stainville was ever your friend,' resounded in his ears, and filled him with such astonishment, that he had no force to answer them, and they both remained for some time in silence. At last the Chevalier threw himself on his knees before Dorimene, and said he could not pretend to be ignorant of the meaning of her words, for they were but too plain; and he could curse himself for being the cause (though innocently) of her suffering a moment's pain. 'But,' continued he, 'I conjure you, madam, by all the ties of virtue and of honour, to collect all your force, make use of that strength of reason nature has given you gloriously to conquer this unfortunate passion which has seized you, and which, if indulged, must inevitably end in the destruction of us all. To wrong my friend—I shudder at the very thought of it; and to forego Isabelle just when I was on the point of possessing her for ever, it is utterly impossible. Oh, Dorimene! recall those wild commands, return again to your own virtue, and do not think of sacrificing all your future peace to hopes so guilty and so extravagant!'
"She was all attention while he was speaking; but every argument he used, and every word he spoke, did but inflame her the more; for it was the pleasure she received from hearing him talk, and the seeing him thus humbly supplicating at her feet, and not what he said, that made her listen so attentively to him: in disclosing her mind she had got over the first, and consequently the most difficult, step. She ​grew every minute more emboldened, and more lost to all sense of shame; and Dumont's unfortunately mentioning my name with such tenderness, and such a resolution not to forsake me, enraged her to madness, and turned her into a perfect fury. She told him that his pretence to virtue and faithfulness to his friend could not impose on her, for she saw the consideration which stuck deepest with him was his love of Isabelle. 'But,' continued she, 'I swear by all that's sacred, the day you marry her shall be her last; for with my own hands I will destroy her, although the destruction of mankind was to be the consequence of her death. Do you imagine I speak in a passion what I will not execute, for my resolution that Isabelle shall never live with you as your wife is as strong and as much fixed as the torments I now feel, and have felt, ever since I first knew you. Had not I seen your affection placed on another, you had never known my love; for, till that misery was added to the rest, I struggled with my passion, and was resolved to conceal it for ever within my own bosom; but now you know it; and I would advise you to dread the rage of a woman whose passions have got so much the better of her as to enable her to break through all the strongest ties imaginable, and sacrifice everything that is most dear to her to the impossibility she finds of resisting her inclinations. Consider with yourself, whether or no you can bear to be the cause of Isabelle's death; for my resolution is unalterably fixed, and it is not in the power of all mankind to divert my purpose.' As soon as she had spoke these words, she got up, and walked hastily from him.
"But imagine the horrible situation she left the Chevalier in. Ten thousand various thoughts at once possessed him; confusion reigned within his breast ; and, whichever way he turned himself, the dismal prospect almost distracted him. Good God! ​what was his condition? With a heart bursting with gratitude towards his friend, filled with the softest and faithfullest passion for the woman he but an hour before flattered himself he was just upon the point of receiving from the hands of the man who made his happiness necessary to his own; with a mind which startled at the least thought of acting against the strictest rules of honour; he suddenly found that the passion his friend's wife was possessed of for him was too violent to be restrained, and too dangerous to be dallied with ; he could not perceive any method to extricate himself out of the dilemma he was thus unexpectedly, unfortunately, involved in.
"The first thing he resolved on was, whatever happened to him, never to disclose the secret of Dorimene's love; but then to give me up, to abandon all his hopes, and at the same time in appearance be ungrateful to my love, and slight the marquis's proffered and generous kindness, was what he could not bear; and yet such were his anxious cares for my safety, that he had fixed it in his mind rather to suffer all the most dreadful torments which human nature is capable of feeling, than run the least venture of my life. Sometimes he flattered himself with the thoughts that time and reason would turn Dorimene from her horrid purpose, and enable her to conquer this unreasonable passion.
"This secret, which I was then a stranger to, was the cause of poor Dumont's sudden alteration, and fixed that melancholy on him which I could not then account for.
"Dorimene, now the Chevalier was not ignorant of her love, threw off all restraint; she contrived all the methods possible of sending the Marquis out of the way, and only sought the means of meeting Dumont alone. It was in vain for him to seek new walks and by-paths in the labyrinths of a wood ​just by our villa, for her watchful eyes continually found him; he still persisting in using new arguments to prevail with her to return her husband's faithful love, and change the dreadful design her soul was fraught with; and she on her side was as obstinately bent never to give it up but with her life.
"In the meantime Pandolph, who had formerly been a servant to my father, and, now he was old and past his labour, was still retained in my brother's family, perceived these meetings of Dumont and Dorimene in the wood, and observed they generally happened when his master was gone out. He was at first very much surprised at it, but was resolved to watch them; and sometimes he would hide himself near enough to observe they were earnest in discourse; but old age had taken from him the quick sense of hearing, and he could not make much of what they said; only he confusedly heard the words love—passion—the Marquis de Stainville—Isabelle—and by what he could gather, he fancied he had very convincing proofs that there was an intrigue carrying on between them.
"This poor Pandolph foolishly imagined that officiously to discover to his master all he had seen would be at once the most faithful service he could do him, and the most grateful return in his power to make him for his kindness in keeping him in his family now he was unable to take any care of himself. He eagerly embraced the first opportunity of doing his master such a piece of service, and minutely told my brother all that he had seen and heard; and certainly, if any person was ever justly the object of compassion, it was the Marquis de Stainville at that instant. His passions were naturally very violent; and although from the time the giving way to them had like to have caused a fatal accident between him and his friend, he had taken great pains to keep ​himself calm, and prevent its being in the power of any appearances to make him suddenly give way to suspicion; yet, in this case, the very name of his beloved Dorimene joined to the idea of falsehood, raised such a tumult in his breast, and filled his mind with such confusion, that all reason gave way to the present horror which possessed his soul—a horror greater than words can describe or fancy paint.
"He threw himself on a bed like one distracted; [ repeated the names of Dumont and Dorimene a thousand times; then started up, and swore they must be innocent; that Pandolph had belied them, and he would sacrifice him for thus disturbing all his peace and enraging him to madness. But then he recollected that Dumont had once already, on a frivolous excuse, put off our marriage; that his wife had lately seemed artfully to contrive to send him out of the way, and ten thousand circumstances which had passed unheeded at the time of their happening—such as her sudden and strange melancholy a little after the Chevalier's arrival, her vast eagerness to marry me to Vieuville—rushed at once into his memory, and corresponded so exactly with what Pandolph had told him, that be began to be worked into a belief it was but too fatally true; and when he had given his passion some vent, he at last resolved to stifle, if possible, for the present, any appearance of his jealousy; and ordered the old man to continue to observe all their motions, and inform him of what he discovered; who, as soon as he had received his commands, left him.
"Such a variety of thoughts crowded into the Marquis's mind the moment he found himself alone, that his perplexity was too great to suffer him to come to any certain determination. At last he concluded, that if the Chevalier again endeavoured to put off the marriage, it would be a convincing proof of the truth ​of his suspicions. And just as he had fixed this idea in his thoughts, Dumont unfortunately entered the room for that very purpose; which was thus to make him appear guilty in his friend's eyes of the most monstrous ingratitude, and the blackest treachery imaginable. His manner of speaking was something so confused, and his mind seemed so disturbed, that it was indeed no wonder as things should be increased by his behaviour. He had not spoke three words before the Marquis, who perceived his drift, was so inflamed that he could hear no more; and interrupting him, hastily said there was no occasion for any excuses, for that he should by no means force him to marry his sister against his inclinations. After which, without waiting for any reply, he passed by him; looked at him with so fierce an air, that his anger was but too plain; and walked out of the chamber.
"Poor Dumont was sensible of his friend's resentment, but did not guess the true cause, for he imputed it to the indignity the Marquis must unavoidably think he treated him with in thus slighting the generous offer he made of his sister. But what must such a heart as his feel in these unhappy circumstances! For although his whole soul was filled with gratitude, and nothing could be a greater torture to him than his friend's even thinking he had the least cause to complain of him, yet in this case he thought it was impossible to undeceive him without a breach of his own honour, and destroying all the Marquis's happiness, which visibly depended on the continuing his good opinion of his wife. Sometimes he resolved to fly the place where he unfortunately caused so much misery, and give up all his future hopes of pleasure in possessing the woman he loved, sacrifice all the joys of mutual friendship, and even suffer my brother to have an ill opinion of his honour, in hopes by that means to prevent his being made miserable; ​but then the condition he thought he must leave me in, at being thus neglected and abandoned by the man I had even gone so far as to confess my love for, softened his whole soul, and all his resolution was lost in tenderness. In short, love, gratitude, honour, friendship, and everything that is most valuable in the human mind, contended which should have the greatest power over him, and by turns exerted themselves in his generous breast. But he was involved in such a perplexing labyrinth, that, whichever way he turned his thoughts, he met with fresh difficulties and new torments. He found it was impossible for him ever to pretend another excuse to delay our marriage; and yet, when he considered Dorimene's furious menaces, his fears for my safety would not suffer him to think of it.
"At last it came into his head that he must contrive some method of making the future delaying it come from me; and, for that purpose, disguising his hand in such a manner that it could not be known, he wrote the note which I have already told you I found on my table. I knew not what to make of it, and was filled with horror when I read it; however, it had the desired effect, for I resolved never to marry the Chevalier Dumont till I was acquainted with the cause of this sudden strange alteration in our family, and let into the secret why he now tried, by all ways possible, to shun me.
"I accordingly told my brother that I had changed my mind, and, for the present at least, would put off all thoughts of marrying his friend. He looked steadfastly at me, and said, if I knew any reason which concerned him for altering a design in which I had appeared so fixed, it was neither acting like a sister, nor as he deserved from me, to conceal it from him. But before I had time to make him any answer, Dorimene entered the room, and put an end to our discourse.
​"I gladly retired, for I was impatient to be by myself, that I might be at full liberty to make what reflections I pleased; but when I came to consider seriously my brother's words, it was impossible for me not to find out that they imported a suspicion of his wife and Dumont. I presently caught the infection; and so many glaring proofs of the justice of that suspicion immediately presented themselves to my imagination, that I could hardly refrain going directly to the Chevalier, and upbraiding him with his treachery; every new thought was a fresh disturber of my peace, and helped to rack my mind. However, like my brother, I resolved, if possible, to wait till I was quite convinced, before I would mention what I suspected.
"What I had fold my brother had a violent effect both on him and Dumont, for to the former it was the strongest indication imaginable that I had found out what Randolph had told him to be true; and though the latter had written the letter himself which determined me to act in that manner, yet such was the delicacy of his love, that he could not forbear suspecting my affections were altered; and the fear that I was disobliged by his late behaviour was still a greater torment than he had yet endured. The thoughts of losing me for ever caused too strong an agony for even his mind to bear; and that idea appeared so very horrible, that the dread of all consequences fled before it, and he resolved to secure himself from that fear by any means whatever (the forfeiture of his honour excepted).
"For this purpose he went the next morning into a chamber where he knew the Marquis de Stainville was alone, and told him he had received a letter from his mother, in which she complained of an ill state of health, and begged him, as the only comfort she could hope for in this world, that he would bring his wife, as soon as he was married, to see her; 'For,' ​continued he, 'I have already informed her of the honour you intend me in giving me Isabelle. I have never in my life disobeyed my mother; therefore, if you will give me leave to marry your sister tomorrow, and carry her immediately home for a little time, it will make me the happiest man in the world.'
"My brother was at first surprised; but though he did not intend this should really happen, yet he in appearance assented, because he had a purpose to work out of it. Dumont eagerly embraced him, and thanked him, with tears in his eyes, for thus indulging him in all his wishes. The Marquis's struggling passions made it almost impossible for him to conceal his thoughts; and, on some pretence of business, he soon left the Chevalier by himself.
"Now returning hope began to cheer bis spirits, and he fancied by this scheme be should secure me from Dorimene's fury; nay, he even flattered himself that time and absence would efface those impressions he had made on her unguarded heart, and that returning reason would bring her to a sense of her duty, and his friend might still be happy. He was shocked at perceiving the Marquis's coldness to him; but this he imputed to the suspicion he lately might reasonably have of his neglecting his sister, and did not doubt but his future behaviour to me would soon regain him his esteem. While he was revolving these things in his mind, I accidentally entered the room. I started back at the sight of him; for, from the time I had suspected his honour, I had avoided all commerce with him. But he cried out, 'Oh, Isabelle ! don't fly me thus, but condescend to spend a few moments in making me happy by your conversation.' He spoke these words with such an air of tenderness, that in one instant he renewed all my former sentiments for him, and baffled every resolution I had formed not to hearken any more to his ​love. I sat down by him, without knowing what I did, or whither this unseasonable complaisance would carry me. He seemed as much confused as I was, but at last he told me what he had just concluded with my brother. This again roused all my resentment; love gave way to jealousy; and I hastily replied, whatever he had agreed on with my brother, I was resolved never to consent to be his wife unless he could dear up his unaccountable behaviour; and that I thought, after his so long endeavouring to show his indifference to me, I ought to have been the first person acquainted with this new alteration of his schemes. He paused a moment, continued to fix his eyes on mine with a look which expressed ten thousand different sentiments at once, and then cried out, 'Oh! don't let Isabelle doubt my love! Could you but know what torments I have gone through whilst you had reason from appearances to think me guilty, I am sure your tender nature would pity rather than condemn me. But — Oh! Dorimene!'—The moment that name had broke from his lips, he started, appeared frightened at what he had said, and flew from me with great precipitation.
"He was no sooner gone than my brother succeeded in his place; but he stayed no longer than while he could say, 'Isabelle, hearken no more to the Chevalier Dumont; resolve not to marry him; time shall unfold to you the reasons of this request.' And then he also fled my sight as hastily as Dumont had done the minute before.
"What a condition was I in! What could I think? My brother, Dorimene, Dumont, all seemed involved in one common madness, and I knew not to whom to disclose my griefs: however, I was resolved for the present absolutely to avoid marrying Dumont; and as I met him again alone that evening, told him he must entirely give up that design for some time ​at least, or he would force me to take a resolution never to see him more.
"As soon as my brother had left Dumont, he went to his wife, and told her that to-morrow he was to complete his friend's happiness by for ever joining him to Isabelle. This he did to see in what manner she would behave on such a trying occasion.
"Dorimene, who was all passion, and who really had but little art, easily swallowed the bait; and told him she thought he ought to consult his own honour, and not to dispose of his sister so rashly to a man who had visibly sligbted her.
"The Marquis was all on fire to see in what manner she took it; and could not forbear saying that in all likelihood her own inclination might be satisfied in the separation of Isabelle from Dumont. And he then came directly to me, and uttered the words I have already repeated to you.
"But so intoxicated was Dorimene with the violence of ber passion, that she at present gave but little attention to anything her husband said; nor did she need the information he had given her concerning our marriage, for she so narrowly watched Dumont that she was never ignorant of any one step he took; and, by hearkening at the door, had overheard all the last conversation between him and the Marquis de Stainville. She hid herself when he quitted the room, but again replaced herself within hearing when I entered it; but it is impossible to describe her rage when she fancied she heard him say enough to let me into a secret which she had extorted a promise from him never to reveal.
"From the time my brother had first suspected his wife, he had never lain at home; but pretending that change of air was conducive to his health, said he lay at a tenant's about two miles off; but indeed he was always within such distance that Pandolph bring him home in five minutes. He set him ​to watch all his wife's motions; but he hitherto could never give him any further account but that she continued still at times to meet the Chevalier in the wood.
"But this evening, as soon as he was gone from the door, and as Dumont's uneasy reflections on what I had said, together with his resolution of avoiding Dorimene, made him resolve to confine himself to his chamber, she grew perfectly past all sense of shame, and was resolved to follow him even thither rather than not speak to him that night, and inform him that she was not ignorant of his purpose, nor should he execute it without her fulfilling hers.
"The agitations of my mind made me feign sickness for an excuse to retire early into my own room, so that there was no obstacle in her way to obstruct her designs. Every step she took added new horror to her thoughts, and increased her torment; and yet such was the force of her irresistible passion, that she was led on in spite of all the remonstrances of her reason to the contrary.
"The watchful Pandolph, the moment he saw her open Dumont's chamber door, ran to inform his master. The Marquis flew on the wings of rage and jealousy, and arrived in less time than could he thought possible for the distance of the place to allow. At his entrance into the chamber, he was struck with the sight of Dorimene, drowned in tears, sitting by the Chevalier on his bed, and holding him by the hand. This was no time for reason to bear any sway; ten thousand tumultuous passions at once possessed his soul; and he obeyed the dictates of his rage by suddenly drawing his sword, and burying it in the body of the poor, unhappy, injured Dumont.
"The action was so quick, that Dorimene did not perceive her husband's fatal purpose before he had executed it; but when she saw Dumont's gushing ​blood, her horror and despair took from her all solicitude for her own safety, and she immediately cried out, 'Oh! Stainville! what have you done? you have murdered the faithfullest friend that ever man was blessed with. Dumont is innocent, and I am the only guilty person. I have persecuted him with my love; my furious threats of Isabelle's life have caused all the appearance of his neglecting her; but no temptation could make him once think of wronging his friend! If any remaining rage yet possesses you, point it at her who only deserves it; but if pity succeeds the fury in your breast, let that induce you to shorten my torments by ending my life, and let me not linger in the hell which I feel at this instant.'
"The moment she had said enough to open my brother's eyes on Dumont's innocence, he turned all his thoughts on him, and let his wife talk on unheeded. He stood for a moment motionless, with his eyes fixed on Dumont's face, where he sufficiently saw a confirmation of all Dorimene had said. Then he threw himself on his knees at the Chevalier's bedside, and gave him such a look as would have pierced a heart of stone. It so totally subdued Dumont, who too visibly perceived his repentance, and easily conceived all those inward horrors which distracted his soul, that, with a look full of compassion only, he reached out his hand to him, and said, 'My friend, I die well pleased if you are convinced that even Dorimene's beauty could not tempt me to wrong your generous friendship. But I grow faint; indulge me in one last view of my Isabelle.'—Stainville started up at the word faint; flew to send for a surgeon; ordered the servants to force Dorimene, who was raving like a madwoman, to her chamber; then ran to me, and, trembling with horror, said, 'Come, Isabelle, view your lover at his last gasp, and behold the guilty hands which have executed the dreadful dictates of rage and jealousy!
​"I followed him, not knowing whether I trod tm earth or air (for we ran so swiftly that we seemed to fly), till we came to the place where I was to be shocked with a spectacle that surpassed all imagination, and be only convinced of Dumont's fidelity at a time when I was just going to lose him for ever. All the methods we could try to stop the blood proved ineffectual. I could not speak, but sat down by him, dissolved in tears, and almost choked with my swelling grief.
"My brother continued to beg forgiveness of the Chevalier, and, in broken accents, told us how Pandolph had raised his jealousy, and by what steps it had been brought to such a height as to deprive him of his reason, and tempt him to an action he would now give the world to recall, and with pleasure sacrifice his own life, could he but prolong his friend's for one hour. Poor Dumont was so weak he could not speak much; but yet he would exert himself to tell me on what account he himself had written the fore-mentioned letter, with the effect my behaviour had on his mind; and then cried out, 'Oh! Isabelle, cherish my memory! And you, my dear Stainville, forgive yourself as heartily as I do. Consider, the appearances of my guilt were so very strong, that it was impossible for you to avoid this fatal jealousy. I am too weak to utter more, although to see you both look on me with such tenderness would make me wish to prolong this moment to eternity!' Here his strength failed him ; and, with his eyes fixed on us, and with the words Stainville—and Isabelle—lingering on his dying lips, he expired in our arms; and left us, for the present, almost in the same condition with himself. But he was for ever past all sense of his misfortunes, whilst returning life brought us back to the remembrance of our miseries. My brother embraced the dead body of his friend, swore he would never part ​from it; and at last started up like one distracted, caught hold of his sword, and cried out, 'Thou fatal instrument of hellish jealousy, which hast made this dreadful havoc in Dumont's faithful breast, now end my torments and revenge my friend.' In saying this, he fell on his sword, whilst I was vainly running to prevent him. The blow missed his heart; but the effusion of blood was so great, that he instantly fainted, and I thought him dead.
"In that dreadful moment a servant, who had lived with me from my infancy, from the noise and hurry which was in the house upon Dorimene's being carried by force into her apartment, and the sending for a surgeon, fearing what might have happened, was coming to seek me: she entered the room just as my brother fell on his sword, and saw me fall down by him. She then immediately called for help, and carried me senseless, and seemingly dead, from this scene of horror. I fell from one fainting fit to another for the whole night; and, in every short interval, resolved not to survive this double loss, as I then apprehended it, of my brother and Dumont at once.
"Early in the morning Dorimene's woman came into my chamber, and begged me, in all the most persuasive terms she could think on, to come to see her mistress, who appeared in all the agonies of death, and incessantly called on my name. I was so weak I could hardly walk, and had such an indignation against the woman who had caused this terrible catastrophe, that I at first thought nothing should prevail on me ever to see her more; but at last, when I was told she seemed very eager to impart to me something of great importance, I suffered them to lead me into her apartment. She desired me to sit down but for a few moments, for that she had already revenged me on herself by swallowing the very poison she had before prepared for me. She then told me the whole story of her irresistible ​passion, and concluded with saying, 'I don't expect, Isabelle, you should forgive me, for it is impossible you should ever forget the irreparable injury I have done you; but yet give me leave to say, that, notwithstanding all you feel, it is impossible for you, who are innocent, to have any idea adequate to my torments, who have the intolerable load of guilt added to all my other afflictions.' The word guilt filled her with such horror that I had no opportunity of making her any reply; for, from that instant, she was insensible of everything that was said to her, and died in three hours.
"The surgeon who had been sent for by my brother, in hopes of his helping Dumont, came soon enough to give him that assistance which the poor Chevalier could not receive. The wound he had given himself was not a mortal one, though very dangerous; but the great difficulty was to bring him to think of suffering life, and to quiet the agony his mind was in. This surpassed the surgeon's art; but religion did that which no human help could have done. An ecclesiastic of uncommon piety, who had been long my brother's confessor, came to attend him upon this occasion. He so strongly represented to him the danger his soul would be in, if, to the other unfortunate effects of his passion, he added self-murder; he so pathetically enforced to him the duty of composing his thoughts, in order to turn them to Heaven, and of assisting his cure as much as lay in his own power, that he might live to atone, by repentance and virtue, for the rash action he had committed, that these pious arguments brought him to a calmer temper of mind; and, being naturally of a strong constitution, he was by degrees entirely recovered. The tenderness he felt for me contributed also to the saving his life; for as soon as 1 knew there were any hopes of him (which was not till after I had taken my last farewell of his wretched wife), I flew ​to his chamber, and never left his bedside during his illness; though my grief for Dumont was so violent that nothing less than my care for my brother's life could have supported my spirits under such an affliction, or have hindered my following him to the grave. And, indeed, the day he was buried I had like to have died; but it pleased God to preserve me beyond my own strength, and to make me a means of preserving the unfortunate Stainville.
"We had some great friends at court, to whom I applied so effectually, setting forth the strong appearances by which he had been deceived, that they obtained his grace of the king, no friend of Dumont's having appeared to solicit against me; for, in truth, my brother was so much an object of compassion to all men, that none could think of desiring to punish him more than he had punished himself.
"I durst not acquaint him with the tragical end of his wife till his health seemed to be fully restored; and even then I would have concealed from him the shocking circumstance of her having poisoned herself, but he was unluckily told it by her servant. This extremely affected him; and, joined to the horror he felt for the death of Dumont, threw him into so deep a melancholy, that he talked of nothing but renouncing the pardon we had obtained for him, delivering himself up to all the rigour of the law, and dying upon a scaffold, the better to expiate the death of his friend. But at last the religious impressions his mind had received got the better of all other sentiments; he took a sudden resolution to quit the world, and turn Carthusian, having first made over all his estate, in equal proportions, to me and the mother of poor Dumont.
"I would have also gone into a nunnery, and resigned the whole to her; but all my relations were so averse to it, and begged me so earnestly to continue among them, that I gave way to their ​solicitations. One of them, who was my aunt by the mother's side, had some of her husband's family settled in England. She proposed to carry me thither, that I might remove from the scene of my misfortunes, I went with her; but my ill fate pursued me. We had not been in London a week before she caught the small-pox, and died. Having myself never had that distemper, I was obliged to quit the house she was in, and came to lodge here.
"As soon as I have settled some affairs which she had in this country, I shall return into France, and execute my former intention of taking the veil; a religious life being the only relief to such sorrows as mine."
Here Isabelle ceased, and it was some time before any of the company could make her an answer. At last David cried out, "How unhappy am I to meet with a person of so much merit, under a sorrow in which it is impossible for me to hope to afford her the least consolation!" Cynthia, and the rest of the company, thanked Isabelle for informing them of her story; and said, if they had thought what her griefs were, they would not have asked her to have put herself to the pain her obliging them must unavoidably have cost her.
"Alas!" replied Isabelle, "had my sorrows been less piercing, perhaps I should not have had resolution enough to have related them; but the excess of my affliction has made me so entirely give up the world, that the despair of any future enjoyments, and the very impossibility I find of ever meeting with any consolation, has in some measure calmed me, and prevents those violent agitations of the mind which, whatever people may fancy, are always owing to some latent hope of happiness."
This whole company were so sensible that Isabelle was in the right in her resolutions of retiring from a world in which it was impossible for her to meet with ​anything worth her regard, after what she had lost, that they did not attempt to dissuade her from it; and as soon as she had settled her aunt's affairs as she thought necessary, she took her leave of them, and returned to France.
This tragical story left very melancholy impressions on all their minds, and was continually the subject of their conversation during two or three days after Isabelle's departure. At which time the weather being fine, and their minds in a humour to enjoy the being on the water, they proposed spending a day there for their amusement. But these adventures must be reserved for another chapter.