4
 
 THE COUNTESS EVE
 
 THE 
 
 COUNTESS EVE 
 
 BY 
 
 J. H. SHORTHOUSE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'JOHN IXGLESANT,' *SIR PEPCTVAL, THE LITTLE 
 SCHOOLMASTER MARK, ETC 
 
 ILontion 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1888 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 Press of J. J. Little & Co., 
 Astor Place, New York.
 
 Thai it may please Thee to strengthen such as do stand, and to 
 comfort and help the weak-hearted, and to raise up them that fall, 
 and finally to beat down Satan under our feet. 
 
 2227S73
 
 THE COUNTESS EVE 
 I 
 
 IN the science of sound there are partial 
 tones, which are unheard, but which blend 
 with the tones that are heard, and make all 
 the difference between the paltry note of 
 the poorest instrument and the supreme 
 note of a violin. So, in the science of 
 life, in the crowded street or market-place 
 or theatre, or wherever life is, there are 
 partial tones, there are unseen presences. 
 Side by side with the human crowd is a 
 crowd of unseen forms Principalities and
 
 2 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 Powers and Possibilities. These are un- 
 seen, but not unfelt. They enter into the 
 houses of the human beings that are seen, 
 and for their coming some of them are 
 swept and garnished, and they abide there, 
 and the last state of these human beings 
 is radiant with a divine light and resonant 
 with an added tone ; or, on the contrary, 
 it may be that, haunted by spirits more 
 wicked than themselves, the last state of 
 such beings is worse than before subject 
 to a violence and tyranny abhorrent even 
 to themselves ; impalpable and inevitable, 
 as it would seem, even to the confines of 
 despair. In the quaint streets of an old 
 French provincial city, as in the proudest 
 cities of the world, something like this was 
 happening, and not in this city only, or at
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 3 
 
 the time we write of, or to the few people 
 we are trying to know something about, 
 but to all people, and in all places, and 
 during every day and through every night, 
 as long as human life shall endure. 
 
 In the year 1785, or thereabouts, the 
 events which are about to be related are 
 said to have occurred in a city of Bur- 
 gundy which shall be nameless. It is not 
 of much consequence whether these events 
 occurred in Chalons, or Dijon, or Besan- 
 con, or Dole, but it does seem to me 
 important for the understanding of the 
 story that the reader should form in his 
 mind some image of the old high-roofed, 
 gabled and walled city, mellowed and 
 crumbling with age, standing amidst 
 meadows and orchards and vineyards
 
 4 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 upon the sunny slopes, and the winding 
 river and millpools, and, beyond, the 
 Gradual rise of woodland toward the Jura 
 
 o ' 
 
 mountains, with their fir forests and deep 
 valleys and sudden rain-storms, and the 
 white cliffs shining against the delicate 
 southern sky. 
 
 Outside the city, a lovely paysage, 
 picturesque with uncultivated lands, with 
 wretched peasants herded into a few 
 miserable villages, with numberless poor 
 nobles prouder than they were poor, 
 living in farmhouses and ruinous small 
 chateaux, with here and there the great 
 isolated chateau of a grand seigneur, an 
 absentee and a courtier in Paris. 
 
 Inside the city, narrow, winding streets 
 with rough, stone pavements, and gutters
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 5 
 
 down their midst, lofty gabled houses, and 
 wharves and halles by the river. A 
 swarm of notables and privileged middle 
 classes, paying no taxes, hated by the un- 
 privileged, taxed, down -trodden people. 
 A small class, half noble, half bourgeois, 
 who preferred the city to the country. 
 A society perfectly provincial, with no 
 thought, with no hope, beyond its narrow 
 horizon a society frivolous, petty, plea- 
 sure-seeking, pleased with infinitely small 
 pleasures ; dancing, laughing, chattering 
 from day to day. 
 
 In the city, as in all French cities, was 
 a theatre, in this case one of higher charac- 
 ter than was common, and at the time this 
 story commences it was occupied by a 
 company of players of more than ordinary
 
 6 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 capacity, who were performing with dis- 
 tinguished success, and attracting the 
 gentry and populace of the city and pro- 
 vince to their acting and singing. 
 
 Among the members of this company 
 were two young men, one of them an 
 actor, the other a musician. The actor, 
 who was slightly the elder of the two and 
 was named Felix la Valliere, was the 
 descendant of a family of actors of the 
 school of Moliere ; the other, Claude de 
 Brie, was the offspring of a family of 
 penniless nobles, whose father had married 
 a girl as penniless as himself. As he 
 had stolen this girl away from her con- 
 vent school, and had by such conduct 
 broken through all the convenances of 
 his order, and alienated himself from his
 
 r THE COUNTESS EVE 7 
 
 family, he was cut off from the only 
 resource of the boys of penniless noble 
 families the marine. He renounced by 
 his own act doubtless very fortunately 
 for himself the life of aimless, listless 
 inactivity entailed on many of his order, 
 and struck out a new path and re- 
 sorted to acting and to music for a liveli- 
 hood. His son followed the latter 
 profession. 
 
 These two young men, whose fathers 
 .had been intimate friends, were insepar- 
 able companions. Of the most opposite 
 temperaments, the very difference of their 
 characters seemed only to cement their 
 friendship. 
 
 They were both handsome, but of very 
 different styles. La Valliere, the actor,
 
 8 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 was slight and elegant in build, with a 
 changeful, facile expression of feature and 
 of attitude, singularly attractive and fasci- 
 nating. His friend, to a figure noble and 
 distinguished, added an expression of per- 
 fect sweetness combined with steadiness 
 and gravity. They were, doubtless, a 
 striking pair. 
 
 As an actor la Valliere was at once 
 the darling and the perplexity of the 
 manager of his company and of his 
 fellows, many of whom indeed considered 
 him to be nothing less than a madman. 
 He was so popular that his eccentricities 
 were overlooked, and his violation of all 
 law condoned. He so entirely associated 
 himself with the characters he repre- 
 sented on the stage, that he lost himself
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 9 
 
 in them, or rather they were lost in him, 
 and consequently he scarcely ever acted a 
 part in the same way for long together, 
 suddenly changing his conception and 
 interpretation of the character as the 
 whim or fancy of the moment prompted 
 him. This was less objectionable in those 
 days, when the same piece was rarely 
 given on two consecutive nights, than it 
 would be at the present day ; but it will 
 easily be seen that such a tendency would 
 be perplexing to his companions. 
 
 What is still more important, however, 
 is that what la Valliere was on the stage 
 he was also in real life. He regarded 
 life and all mankind as only the shifting 
 scenes and persons of a stage play. What 
 he did himself he was willing to allow of
 
 io THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 or to expect in others, so that no settled 
 conduct or regular law of action was to 
 be expected of society so far as he was 
 concerned ; and not only was moral law 
 unknown, as it seemed, to him, but physical 
 law seemed also uncertain and insecure, 
 so that nothing that could have happened 
 in the world of sense would have surprised 
 him, and he was an avowed believer in 
 Mesmer and the fashionable cabalistic 
 diablerie of the day. It is possible that 
 the lack of physical certainty explained 
 the want of moral firmness, for if a man 
 is not sure of the ground under his feet, 
 he is not likely, as men go, to be more 
 certain of the heaven over his head. 
 
 As on the stage he could not properly 
 be said to act, for he played every part
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE II 
 
 simply as it presented itself to his own 
 fancy, so in life he could scarcely be con- 
 sidered a responsible or moral being, so 
 completely did the dramatic impulse of 
 the moment, or of the situation, carry him 
 with it. 
 
 In surprising contrast to this gay and 
 lawless creature was his bosom friend, 
 Claude de Brie, one of those rare natures 
 to whom God has given the faculty of 
 purity, and training has given the winsome 
 grace of an ideal life. 
 
 The play was over, and the two friends 
 came out by a side door into the wet 
 street. Muffled in their long cloaks, and 
 picking their way as they best could 
 through the mire and over the huge
 
 12 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 stones of the causeway, by the light of a 
 chance lantern or of a still open shop, they 
 were startled by the passing of a large 
 carriage accompanied by servants, and the 
 next moment by its sudden halt. Over 
 the house-tops a bright moon, shining out 
 from between the dark rain clouds, lent a 
 sudden lustre to the murky by-street. 
 
 ' Sir,' said a servant, who had descended 
 from the box-seat of the carnage, ' if, as 
 I believe, you are Monsieur Felix la 
 Valliere, Monsieur le Comte du Pic-Adam 
 requests the honour of your company at 
 supper at his chateau without the Gate de 
 Veaux.' 
 
 ' I am most honoured by the invitation 
 of Monsieur le Comte,' replied la Valliere, 
 ' but I have with me my friend Monsieur
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 13 
 
 de Brie, who is spending the evening with 
 me.' 
 
 ' Sir,' replied the servant with lofty 
 politeness, ' I am quite sure that Monsieur 
 le Comte would not wish to separate you 
 from your friend. Monsieur le Comte will 
 be honoured by the company' of you both.' 
 
 He turned back towards the carriage 
 with an air which said plainly 
 
 ' When we choose to condescend we 
 are not the people to do things by halves.' 
 
 ' Fortune favours us,' whispered la 
 Valliere to his friend. ' This is that old 
 diplomatist who has married the lovely 
 young wife whom they call the Countess 
 Eve.' 
 
 Picking their way as well as might be 
 across the muddy street, the two young
 
 14 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 men approached the carriage, which stood 
 surrounded by servants carrying links. 
 
 As they reached the carriage they were 
 greeted from within by a bland and cour- 
 teous personage, apparently of middle age, 
 but who might be younger than he looked 
 a lofty, distinguished man, with a dis- 
 trait and absent expression, but scrupu- 
 lously polite. 
 
 ' Sir,' he said, ' it is most kind of you to 
 respond to my unceremonious invitation, 
 and to bring your friend with you. The 
 Countess has been much gratified by your 
 acting to-night. Pray enter the carriage. 
 The Countess du Pic- Adam.' 
 
 The young men entered the carriage 
 and placed themselves on the front seat, 
 opposite to the Count and Countess.
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 15 
 
 By the light of the flambeaux the Count 
 certainly seemed younger than he had at 
 first appeared. He had a fair steadfast 
 countenance, and a suave, bland manner 
 and tone. He seemed to de Brie, who 
 was a student of character, to be descended 
 from a mixed ancestry. 
 
 ' Madame la Comtesse,' he said, ' has 
 been so delighted with your acting to- 
 night, Monsieur la Valliere, that she wished 
 to be acquainted more closely with one 
 who has given her so much pleasure.' 
 
 By the light of the torches a lovely 
 face, buried in masses of white fur, looked 
 out from the corner of the carriage upon 
 the two young men, and a melodious voice 
 said 
 
 4 Monsieur de Brie, I believe, is the
 
 16 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 performer of that lovely obbligato to Made- 
 moiselle Mori's song.' 
 
 ' Madame la Comtesse is perfectly 
 right,' said la Valliere eagerly, 'and my 
 friend has his violin with him, so that if 
 after supper Madame would like to hear 
 the air again ? '- 
 
 The uneasy motion of the carriage over 
 the rough pavement prevented much con- 
 versation, but the distance to the city gate 
 was short, and after they had passed the 
 drawbridge and the glacis the road was 
 easier, and a few minutes afterwards the 
 carriage turned into an avenue lighted by 
 the fitful moonbeams, which traversed a 
 small park leading to a modern chateau. 
 Numerous servants received the Count 
 and his lady in the great hall, and the two
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 17 
 
 young men were conducted to a private 
 room where they might to some extent 
 make themselves ready for supper. 
 
 The supper-table was spread before a 
 large and noble fireplace of carved stone 
 reaching almost to the roof of a large 
 salle. Screens of Chinese work sheltered 
 the party, and beyond them stretched the 
 dark and limitless shadows of an unknown 
 and mysterious world. Trie Countess had 
 changed her dress, and came to the supper- 
 table in a robe of white satin, with strings 
 of pearls in her hair. She had rich chestnut 
 hair and deep violet eyes. The young men 
 thought her the most mysteriously lovely 
 creature they had ever seen. 
 
 The supper was delicate and delicious, 
 and the Burgundy of the choicest growth.
 
 i8 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 The conversation turned naturally upon 
 art and the stage, and la Valliere, warmed 
 with the generous wine, became eloquent 
 on this theme. 
 
 ' I can conceive nothing more delight- 
 ful,' said the Countess, 'than this art, which 
 gives you the power of pleasing others 
 simply by the exertion of a faculty the 
 exertion of which must be such a delight 
 to yourself. I can think of nothing more 
 attractive than the power of representing, 
 at your own choice, Nature in all her 
 vagaries of treating at will all the diverse 
 paths of life of the following in your own 
 person all the fortunes, all the vicissitudes, 
 all the hopes and conceptions of a man. 
 The world seems to me to be at your feet. 
 You live every kind of life at will.'
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 19 
 
 'That is the ideal actor,' said la 
 Valliere, ' not at all the commonplace one. 
 I have often been amused to see an old 
 man not a bad actor either go through 
 all the little tricks of action and tone of 
 voice which he had practised for thirty 
 years, because he had been taught so long 
 ago that these were the correct adjuncts of 
 the part, and never once during the whole 
 of that time living in, realising, the part 
 himself. For myself, I seem to live a 
 different life each night. I seldom act 
 even the same part precisely in the same 
 way twice together. I seem to see fresh 
 meanings and purposes in my part. Fresh 
 complications occur, fresh incidents sug- 
 gest themselves. I am born again every 
 night.'
 
 20 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 'It is an inconvenient practice on the 
 part of an actor,' said de Brie, smiling ; 
 ' my friend has been much blamed for it.' 
 
 ' Art,' said la Valliere, ' must never be 
 crippled or confined. Indeed, all life must 
 be free and untrammelled, or it is not life. 
 He who would be really a man must know 
 all that the life of man can be, must be 
 free to choose and to enjoy, free to test his 
 powers in all directions, to taste of all the 
 enjoyments and faculties at his disposal ; 
 to probe to the uttermost the possibilities 
 not only of the seen but of the unseen 
 existence ; to feel and to enjoy to the 
 very full all that Nature possesses, or that 
 man can dream, of life and thought. Give 
 me the man who acts on the impulse of 
 his nature not upon a balanced, bourgeois
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 21 
 
 consideration of what is due to his class, or 
 his character, or his principles.' 
 
 ' You have not, Monsieur la Valliere,' 
 said the Count, looking very fixedly at 
 Felix, and speaking very slowly, ' you 
 have not, I venture to think, put all this 
 theory of life into practice, except upon 
 the stage. Otherwise, I hardly think 
 that you would speak as cheerfully as 
 you do.' 
 
 His tone was so solemn, and his man- 
 ner so marked, that the two young men 
 looked at him with some surprise. 
 
 The Countess also raised her eyes, and 
 it seemed to Claude de Brie, who watched 
 her closely, that a little shudder passed 
 over her exquisite form, and that her eyes 
 were turned furtively in the direction of
 
 22 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 her husband, with a lingering, hopeless 
 look. 
 
 There was a short but awkward pause. 
 La Valliere seemed for the moment unac- 
 countably silenced, but before de Brie 
 could recover himself sufficiently to speak, 
 the Count seemed to make an effort, and, 
 as though conscious of his duty as host, 
 continued in a gayer tone. 
 
 ' This talk is too grave for a supper 
 after the play. You cannot possibly, gen- 
 tlemen, return to the city to-night. The 
 gates will not open even to my carriages. 
 My people will, I hope, find you all things 
 necessary, and I should like you to see 
 our gardens in the morning light. The 
 private garden is considered by some to 
 be very quaint and well laid out. We call
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 23 
 
 it' and the Count looked kindly, and 
 even tenderly, across the table at his 
 young wife ' we call it Paradise.' 
 
 The Countess's face flushed with a kind 
 of delighted surprise, but it relapsed again 
 in a moment into its usual listless, hopeless 
 expression, as the kindly glance faded as 
 rapidly from her husband's eyes. 
 
 'Paradise,' said la Valliere, speaking 
 apparently to the great branched cande- 
 labra before him, ' Paradise. That was 
 what I was meaning when I spoke of the 
 possibilities of existence, whether seen or 
 unseen. I did not know that it was so 
 near.' 
 
 As he spoke a servant from behind his 
 chair filled up his glass with the luscious 
 Burgundy.
 
 24 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 ' Felix,' said his friend across the table, 
 in a soft, quiet voice, but with no affecta- 
 tion of an aside, ' do not drink any more 
 wine. You have had enough.' 
 
 The actor looked for a moment across 
 the table into his friend's eyes. Then he 
 put his glass back from him and rose 
 quietly from his seat. 
 
 'I promised Madame,' he said, 'that 
 she should hear the air on the violin. If 
 one of the servants would bring the instru- 
 ment from the hall this might be a suitable 
 moment.' 
 
 ' It is only the obbligato that Madame 
 can hear,' said de Brie. ' We shall not 
 have Mademoiselle Mori's lovely notes ; 
 but in all beautiful compositions of sound, 
 or colour, or form, there is, just so far as
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 25 
 
 they are pure and perfect, a unity and a 
 beauty of which no part can exist selfishly 
 or apart from the rest. So that, in the 
 simple air as drawn from the strings, it 
 is possible that Madame may recognise 
 something of the old fascination. Let us 
 hope that she may.' 
 
 ' I engage that she will,' la Valliere 
 broke in eagerly ; 'it is the prerogative of 
 all things in Nature all things lovely, true 
 and ideal to act harmoniously together. 
 Madame la Comtesse' he seemed again 
 to be addressing the candelabra ' cannot 
 escape from this necessity, for it is a con- 
 dition of the highest loveliness even of 
 her own.' 
 
 De Erie's advice had evidently not 
 been given too soon.
 
 26 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 While he spoke, as if to cover his last 
 words, la Valliere had risen and drawn 
 back his chair from the table and had 
 placed it by the side of the lofty, carved 
 fireplace, and the Count withdrew his chair 
 from the end of the table to a position 
 not far from him ; the Countess moved 
 from her seat to a settee sheltered by one 
 of the large screens, and de Brie, com- 
 ing round the table, stood leaning against 
 it in front of the fire, his violin in his 
 hand. 
 
 La Valliere had taken just enough 
 wine to excite his fancy, and to produce 
 that sensation of expectancy under which 
 the strangest things may happen without 
 exciting surprise. He sat back quietly 
 in his chair, a sense of restraint and
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 27 
 
 caution upon him, his head leaning against 
 the carved stone pilaster of the mantel- 
 piece, and de Brie began to play. 
 
 A plaintive, continuous note, searching 
 back into a past eternity, stretching for- 
 ward into all time, stirred his senses into 
 activity, and la Valliere looked across to 
 where the Countess sat. 
 
 She lay back upon the cushioned settee, 
 her sad eyes fixed upon the dancing fire- 
 light, with no expression in them but that 
 of a resigned weariness of a hopeless 
 consciousness of mistake, of a mistaken 
 effort and of an aim that had failed a 
 resigned weariness that roused itself every 
 now and then to look up with a momentary 
 hope into her husband's face, as with a 
 longing for some interest in life and in
 
 28 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 him, only to fall back again before his 
 polished, stony, absent air. 
 
 Behind her the fantastic forms of 
 strange birds and flowers on the great 
 Chinese screen shut out the shadowy 
 distance of the vast salon, and before her 
 hovered restlessly the plumed whiteness 
 of a great fan that lay, rather than was 
 held, in her listless hands. 
 
 The plaintive note changed into the 
 clear, holy joy of a pure love that 
 meets its fellow and is glad, and la 
 Valliere's eyes gleamed with a sudden 
 terror indescribable in words, for from 
 behind the gay, flowering screen, out of 
 the weird darkness beyond, there glided 
 a faint, shadowy figure and stood beside 
 the Countess's couch, leaning towards her
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 29 
 
 as if to speak. Faint and almost indefinite 
 at first, the figure became momentarily 
 more distinct. A strange, absorbing feel- 
 ing took possession of la Valliere's mind 
 in answer, as h seemed, to a correspond- 
 ing effort on the part of the appearance 
 itself an intense desire for a clearer 
 vision ; for though the figure apparently 
 concentrated its attention entirely upon 
 the Countess, yet there emanated from 
 it, so to speak, an indescribable effluence 
 of temptation and attraction, luring la 
 Valliere's fancy to endeavour to see more 
 clearly, to be better acquainted with what 
 he saw. 
 
 As the bewitching strains of the violin 
 continued, and this mysterious intruder 
 became more clear and distinct to his
 
 30 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 excited sense, it seemed to la Valliere 
 that a, figure, habited as a French abbe, 
 was leaning on the arm of the Coun- 
 tess's seat and whispering in her ear. 
 It seemed that its presence was unper- 
 ceived by the Countess herself, or by any 
 of the other persons in the room ; but 
 after a few seconds of this strange inter- 
 course if such it could be called the atti- 
 tude and manner of the Countess changed 
 inexplicably. She raised her eyes from 
 the fire, and her look had undergone a 
 surprising change. The hopeless weari- 
 ness was gone, and in its place was an 
 expression of startled, expectant interest 
 and excitement, subdued and chastened, 
 but real and strong. Did la Valliere 
 deceive himself, or, in the soft, dreamy
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 31 
 
 light across the tremulous motion of the 
 fan, was this altered look directed towards 
 himself ? Did it say ? certainly he inter- 
 preted it so to say ' In place of stony 
 indifference, of cold abstraction and repug- 
 nance almost, shall I not find, can I not 
 find, the love for which I yearn the sym- 
 pathy and tenderness elsewhere ? And 
 if elsewhere, surely here.' 
 
 The glamour of a dream seemed to 
 pervade the whole scene the softened 
 light, the leaping flame of the wood fire, 
 the strains of the violin and over all a 
 sense of mystic atmosphere, within which 
 all things seemed transfigured, a thin 
 golden haze of soft light, in which la 
 Valliere's face and slight figure became 
 more attractive and the loveliness of the
 
 32 THE COUNTESS EVE i 
 
 Countess more lovely still ; and always, 
 in la Valliere's eyes, the figure by the 
 couch became clearer and more clear, till 
 at last it turned its face directly towards 
 the young man, and the eyes met his with 
 a quite friendly, confidential gaze. 
 
 It was certainly the figure of a French 
 abbe, but the expression of the face was 
 such as no French abbe no, nor any 
 other man had ever displayed. For the 
 moment it was that of an almost amiable 
 suavity almost, because the peculiarity of 
 the face consisted in the conviction that the 
 sight of it produced, that any expression it 
 might wear was only for a moment ; that any 
 amiable or pleasing expression especially 
 was but the result of effort, the mere masque 
 of an actor, not the result of amiability itself.
 
 I THE COUNTESS EVE 33 
 
 It was an expression instinct with a 
 sense of change, infinitely fugitive, pro- 
 tean, indicating nothing, it. seemed, so 
 much as an indefinite capacity, which, in 
 whatever direction it might tend, was cer- 
 tainly not suggestive of good. 
 
 This sense of change extended even 
 to the features, so that no man could 
 have positively defined them even to 
 himself, much less have conveyed any 
 idea of them to others. The most that 
 could be said of them was, that they 
 conveyed a general impression of power 
 and of a certain distinction ; not ex- 
 actly, however, in the sense in which 
 men generally understand the word, for 
 it seemed to arise from the fact that 
 
 the origin was indefinite and immaterial 
 D
 
 34 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 rather than as springing from matter or 
 as born of race. 
 
 The friendly gaze, if it were friendly, 
 penetrated into la Valliere's nature as no 
 human gaze had ever done before. Every 
 thought of his heart, to the very depths 
 of his being, seemed familiar to this 
 strange influence and responsive to its call. 
 .Every tendency and facility which human 
 frailty uses or suggests, every leaning of 
 human life to the side of enjoyment, 
 seemed to awake and to respond. 
 
 ' Be bold/ it seemed to say. ' Carry out 
 your own theory of life. Enjoy, prove 
 all things. Test the powers that have 
 been given you, doubtless for use, by a 
 beneficent Providence. Above all things 
 be bold ! '
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 35 
 
 La Valliere was not frightened. There 
 was not even any feeling of wonder or 
 of surprise connected with the appearance 
 of this figure. What was produced was 
 merely a sense of added power and a fresh 
 life in every faculty and desire, of supreme 
 luxury 7 in the quickened perception of the 
 shadowy room, of the glowing fire, of the 
 dulcet music, above all of that lovely face 
 and figure leaning forward from the large 
 settee, with its background of fantastic 
 screen, and the wonderful, entrancing look 
 of the violet eyes. The strange, intrud- 
 ing figure with its intense individuality, 
 seemed to shrink into the background and 
 to wish to be forgotten. Perhaps its work 
 was done. 
 
 The music ceased, and the Countess,
 
 36 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 with a look of wearied falling back upon 
 a disappointing- present, arose and, thank- 
 ing Claude de Brie politely, left the room. 
 The Count summoned some domestics, 
 and was on the point of consigning the 
 two young men to their care, when la 
 Valliere, inspired by a sudden impulse, 
 spoke to him. 
 
 ' Monsieur le Comte,' he said, ' I should 
 have thought that your excellent Bur- 
 gundy had turned my head, but that the 
 appearance was so persistent and distinct. 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe, I presume the eccle- 
 siastic who was leaning on Madame's 
 couch a moment ago, I could wish to have 
 seen more of him is probably not too 
 desirous of making the acquaintance of 
 strangers.'
 
 i THE COUNTESS EVE 37 
 
 He spoke, scarcely knowing what he 
 said ; the Burgundy had perhaps been 
 more potent than he knew. 
 
 Something in his words, or in his tone, 
 seemed to strike the Count as, with the 
 echo of some familiar thought, he looked 
 the young man straight in the eyes. 
 
 ' Monsieur 1' Abbe/ he said, '\hedirecteur 
 of Madame la Comtesse, is at present from 
 home on a visit a ses terres. I do not 
 know who you may have seen. I saw no 
 one but ourselves. But there are other 
 beings than ourselves constantly around 
 us the remembrance of other days, the 
 effects of past actions, the consequences 
 of past sins, the trail, taint, poison of com- 
 mitted sin. Some we know and see, some 
 we never see ; they are perhaps the more
 
 38 THE COUNTESS EVE I 
 
 fatal. You spoke of a man, had you told 
 me that you had seen her ! ' 
 
 La Valliere gazed at him with surprise. 
 
 ' She must be always near me,' the 
 Count went on, as if speaking to himself; 
 ' always near me, and yet I never see her 
 never see her. May God, in His un- 
 speakable pity, have mercy on me when 
 I do.'
 
 II 
 
 THE young men were shown into a lofty 
 room in which were two beds and other 
 luxurious furniture. Dark hangings of 
 flowered silk covered the walls. A servant 
 deposited liqueurs and cake upon a small 
 table, and left them alone. 
 
 They were neither of them inclined to 
 sleep. La Valliere, especially, was too ex- 
 cited even to think. De Brie was startled 
 by what had passed between his friend and 
 the Count. He seated himself before the fire, 
 the bright -leaping flames of which seemed 
 spirits and denizens of an ethereal life.
 
 40 THE COUNTESS EVE II 
 
 ' You were not jesting with the Count ? 
 he said. 
 
 'Jesting!' said la Valliere. 'I saw him 
 the Abbe as I see you.' 
 
 ' I believe you. The wonder is, not 
 that you saw him, but that we, all of us, see 
 so little. The whole of Nature is ensouled. 
 There is no such thing as matter, as material 
 existence. Everything is instinct with the 
 nature of God, or of the Enemy of God.' 
 
 La Valliere did not reply. He sat look- 
 ing listlessly into the fire, seeing perhaps 
 in the dancing flames the face of the 
 Countess Eve. 
 
 ' We have entered into a new life,' 
 de Brie went on. ' The old centuries 
 slumbered in a shadowy dream-life, a life 
 of the unseen and of the soul. They had
 
 n THE COUNTESS EVE 41 
 
 the truth, but they did not know it ; we 
 know it, but have lost its possession. I 
 have often thought, but to-night it comes 
 upon me with an irresistible certainty, that 
 you are in yourself at once the embodi- 
 ment of both of the mystical life of the 
 past centuries, and of the material life of 
 to-day. You have the ignorant instinct of 
 the past towards the unseen and the ideal ; 
 and you have the animal instinct of the 
 present, untrammelled by the new-born 
 conscience and responsibility which, in 
 most men, stands in the way of the moral 
 abandon which is necessary for the mag- 
 netic union with the unseen. To you, if 
 to no one else, it should assume palpable 
 form.' 
 
 ' You do not seem very complimentary,'
 
 42 THE COUNTESS EVE n 
 
 said laValliere dreamily. 'Have you more 
 to say ? ' 
 
 It was not the first time that he had 
 listened to such lengthy dissertations from 
 his friend. 
 
 ' You always remind me,' de Brie went 
 on, ' of those old Greek natures, half human, 
 half fay, to whom belonged the secrets of 
 Nature and of the sky, of the elements and 
 of the spirit- world pure animals such as 
 we see among us now, our dogs and falcons, 
 the creatures of their training and circum- 
 stances, but how perfect of their kind ! ' 
 
 ' Really,' said la Valliere, laughing and 
 rousing himself from his indolent atti- 
 tude before the blazing fire, ' you are more 
 and more polite. Dogs and falcons ! 
 What next, I wonder ? '
 
 II THE COUNTESS EVE 43 
 
 De Brie sat looking at him with that 
 unique and inexplicable attraction which 
 exists only between man and man, and 
 very often between men of singularly 
 opposite nature and opinion but indeed 
 la Valliere's attraction was so great that 
 it was almost impossible to see him without 
 admiration. He stood with his back to 
 the stately hearth, the festooned walls of 
 the room, the flowered-silk hangings and 
 tapestries aglow with the fitful light. The 
 finely-cut, delicate features, the lofty grace 
 of pose and manner, were never more 
 apparent to his friend than on this night. 
 His heart yearned more than ever towards 
 the matchless fascination of this facile, 
 attractive nature plastic as clay in the 
 potter's hand, and yet attractive as though
 
 44 THE COUNTESS EVE II 
 
 it had absorbed the grace of all natures 
 into its own. 
 
 ' He is nothing in himself/ he thought ; 
 ' he is nothing but a lovely masque. This 
 highly - strung, sympathetic nature, this 
 magnetic temperament, this careless, 
 happy, Greek conscience and unshackled 
 will and purpose, confined by no scruple, 
 bounded by no law to what fell use 
 might it not be put ? How perfect and 
 beautiful an instrument and dwelling-place 
 for a malefic spirit to use and to inhabit ! ' 
 
 And this stately house that seemed to 
 him so empty, so swept and garnished for 
 the delight of such few persons as he had 
 seen to inhabit it, what was it but the 
 stage of a concourse of beings, the scene
 
 II THE COUNTESS EVE 45 
 
 of a conflict terrible and enduring as life 
 and the grave ? Alone ! we are never 
 alone. Dead ! nothing dies. The dead 
 ancestor lives again in the so-called inno- 
 cent child. The foul deed, the craven 
 act, the sensual sin, stands out suddenly 
 face to face with the pale, saintly girl, and 
 confuses and mars her life. ' Alone ! we 
 are never alone ! ' 
 
 He said these words aloud, for there 
 came into his mind a sudden sense of 
 supreme mystery, even of terror of the 
 infinite consequence of the next moment's 
 action and word. A sense of dominant 
 and all but overpowering, malefic force, of 
 the need of prayer and of rescue. Vaguely 
 as in a dream, dimly as in the distant past, 
 he seemed conscious of the birth of sin
 
 46 THE COUNTESS EVE II 
 
 conscious of committed sin which, through 
 the long process of time, was at that 
 moment, by some fatal necromancy, draw- 
 ing himself and la Valliere and the 
 ' Countess Eve, and all whom he knew, 
 within its netted toils. He too rose from 
 his seat. 
 
 La Valliere was standing on the hearth, 
 his figure thrown into strong relief by the 
 firelight, by the contrasted shine and 
 gloom. His face, usually so suave and 
 placid, had a scared and set look. 
 
 ' De Brie,' he said, ' do you remember 
 that night at Mesmer's in Paris, when the 
 girl who is so like the Queen was in a 
 trance, and you dragged me away, and you 
 said that it was not a girl but a fiend ? 
 Something like that is in this house now.'
 
 t ii THE COUNTESS EVE 47 
 
 ' I took you away from Mesmer's,' said 
 de Brie, ' because I knew that it could 
 not be the Queen, though it was so like 
 her. I said it was a devilish delusion and 
 the work of a fiend.' 
 
 ' They are here,' said la Valliere, now 
 with some bitterness in his tone. ' You 
 are a saint ; they will not suffer you to see 
 or to feel them near. They know that it 
 is useless to tempt you but they are 
 here.' 
 
 ' If any of us are tempted, if the house 
 be haunted by evil spirits,' said de Brie, 
 ' let us kneel down and pray.' And with- 
 out waiting to see whether la Valliere 
 followed his example or not, he knelt 
 down and recited a prayer, not long before 
 used at the jubilee of 1751.
 
 48 THE COUNTESS EVE n 
 
 ' O Father of light and God of all 
 truth, purge the whole world from all 
 errors, abuses, corruptions, and sins. Beat 
 down the standard of Satan, and set 
 up everywhere the standard of Christ. 
 Abolish the reign of sin, and establish 
 the kingdom of grace in all hearts. Let 
 humility triumph over pride and ambition ; 
 charity over hatred, envy, and malice ; 
 purity and temperance over lust and ex- 
 cess ; meekness over passion, and disinter- 
 estedness and poverty of spirit over 
 covetousness and the love of this perish- 
 able world. Let the gospel of Christ, in 
 faith and practice, prevail throughout the 
 world.' 
 
 De Brie rose from his knees and 
 looked at his friend. Whether la Val-
 
 ii THE COUNTESS EVE 49 
 
 liere had knelt or not he did not know, but 
 the scared look was gone out of his eyes. 
 
 ' It is time we went to bed,' he said. 
 'To-morrow we must get back into the 
 city, somehow. I have a rehearsal at 
 eleven o'clock.' 
 
 In his unsettled sleep that night de 
 Brie had a dream. 
 
 He dreamt that he was in a valley, in 
 the moonlight, in an autumn night. On 
 the grassy slopes and in the rocky paths 
 of the valley, in the mystic light, number- 
 less shadowy figures were walking, stray- 
 ing up and down, carrying branches of 
 palms, olives and willows. The cold, 
 cruel light of the moon dead, pitiless 
 
 and chill, in foil and enmity to the warm 
 E
 
 50 THE COUNTESS EVE n 
 
 and life-giving sunlight, cast black and 
 deathlike shadows from the trees and mov- 
 ing, flitting forms. 
 
 It seemed to de Brie that he stood for 
 some time regarding these people with 
 wonder. Then he was conscious that 
 one with a mocking vizard that concealed 
 his face stood by his side, and he asked 
 him, ' Who are these ? and what do they 
 do?' 
 
 And the fantastic mime answered 
 ' These are Hebrews. They seek, on 
 the seventh day of the Feast of Taber- 
 nacles, for the ''shadow of the shadow," 
 for so their Rabbis teach them out of 
 Deuteronomy. " Their shadow is de- 
 parted from them." This does not relate, 
 they tell them, to the natural shadow,
 
 II THE COUNTESS EVE 51 
 
 which any one can see, but to the "shadow 
 of the shadow," the reflection of the first, 
 which is given only to the elect.' 
 
 ' And do these see it ? ' asked de Brie. 
 
 ' No,' said the masque, with a rippling, 
 mocking laughter in his tone. ' Watch 
 and see.' 
 
 And it seemed to de Brie that, as he 
 still looked, the fantastic figures were not 
 only those of Hebrews, but appeared in 
 the dress and shapes of all peoples and 
 races, and that among them were many 
 whom de Brie knew ; and in the white 
 moonlight, that drew such terrible sharp 
 black shadows, the distant drives and 
 vistas of the wood, which was in itself 
 weird and cabalistical, and haunted by 
 such strange forms, became peopled by
 
 52 THE COUNTESS EVE n 
 
 a throng of shapes and figures more spec- 
 tral and shadowy still, and resounded with 
 echoing footsteps more uncertain and re- 
 mote, all deriving their existence from 
 these shadows, and from these wander- 
 ing, pacing forms, who, still carrying their 
 branches of palms and olives and willows, 
 continued their fantastic search ; and the 
 sins of the fathers were reproduced in the 
 children, and phantoms, that were at once 
 shadowy and evil, gave birth to phantoms 
 more shadowy and evil still. 
 
 And de Brie said to the masquer at his 
 side 
 
 ' This is a great mystery, that matter 
 can beget spirit, a fleshly lust beget in- 
 tellect, sin beget a being capable of, but ' 
 missing, a divine life.'
 
 ii THE COUNTESS EVE 53 
 
 And the mocking demon by his side 
 laughed, and said 
 
 ' By a kind of necromancy a man's 
 shadow has been known to walk and talk 
 of itself ; but its shadow ! what is that ? ' 
 
 And the strange moonlit dance went on 
 solemnly, as with a set purpose, but futile 
 in result and in fruit, and de Brie said 
 
 ' Is there then no hope for these ?' 
 
 And the mime by his side took off his 
 masque, and de Brie woke at the horror 
 of his face, and in his waking ear were the 
 scornful words 
 
 1 There is none.' 
 
 And with a start he awoke to the fresh 
 spring morning and the light.
 
 Ill 
 
 WHEN the young men awoke they found 
 that their windows looked out upon a 
 prospect of soft and tranquil loveliness, 
 quiet and peaceful as a happy dream. 
 Immediately below the windows was a 
 terrace, and beyond the terrace an orchard 
 of fruit trees, then leafless, but just break- 
 ing into blossom, the twisted branches gray 
 with lichens and sparkling with dewdrops ; 
 and beyond this again a stretch of park- 
 and pastures and vineyards, and then, in the 
 far distance, the Jura Mountains, with their 
 dark fir forests and escarpments of white
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 55 
 
 rocks. Between the windows and these 
 distant hills shadowy gradations of light 
 revealed the ridges of vineyard and wood- 
 land with a delicate, faint tracery of outline, 
 and a clear distinctness, in the softly-tinted 
 morning air. It seemed to de Erie's 
 troubled waking-sense that such a dawn as 
 this might have broke over that other 
 Paradise in the first mornings of the 
 world. 
 
 An early meal was served to the young 
 men, and a carriage conveyed them to the 
 city, where, as la Valliere had said, they 
 had to attend the rehearsal of a new play. 
 
 To the intelligent actor there is some- 
 thing strangely suggestive and fascinating 
 in this correlation of parts, when the affairs 
 of that which most men consent to call
 
 56 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 real life are placed in close connection, are 
 contrasted with, perhaps incorporated into, 
 the ideal world of creative art. 
 
 This interwoven tissue of fancy and 
 action made la Valliere's world, already 
 fantastic and bizarre, more fantastic still. 
 The characters upon the stage mingled 
 with his conception of those he met with 
 in the streets and houses of the city. 
 Nothing seemed strange or impossible to 
 him, nothing surprised him. The peculiar 
 charm of his acting consisted in the fact that 
 it was not acting the stage was as real to 
 him as life, life as real to him as the stage. 
 
 The play in which he was now taking a 
 part was one of those intensely French 
 pieces which no audience except a French 
 one, if it were not the audience which
 
 HI THE COUNTESS EVE 57 
 
 applauded Terence, could possibly have 
 appreciated. The strain upon an actor in 
 such a piece, the interest of which consists 
 entirely in dialogue and chiefly in repartee 
 and Equivoque repartee, it is true, ex- 
 quisitely appropriate to the individual 
 character, but still simply repartee is 
 tremendous, especially before an audience 
 which recognises and appreciates the 
 faintest miance of character and phrase. 
 
 La Valliere came out of the theatre 
 exhausted, even shattered both in mind 
 and body. The excitement of the past 
 night, the Countess with her sudden and 
 unexpected look, the strange figure by the 
 couch with its terribly irresistible influence, 
 the restless sleep troubled with dreams, the 
 glimpse of Paradise in the early dawn, all
 
 $8 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 this had strung his mind and wrought his 
 body to a pitch of nervous excitement. 
 The singular correlative condition of exist- 
 ence as it appeared to him, the constantly 
 reiterated point and antithesis of the 
 dialogue in which he had taken part, and 
 the strange antithesis and uncertainty of 
 the real and the fictional which might 
 be the one and which the other dogging 
 his footsteps in the life of every day, pro- 
 duced a condition which was not far short 
 of delirium. When he left the playhouse 
 he wandered restlessly about the streets. 
 
 Not far from the theatre, stretching 
 westward from the gate by which the 
 friends had left the city the night before 
 and returned to it in the morning, the glacis 
 of the old walls had been planted with rows
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 59 
 
 of trees, now of considerable size. Along 
 one of these shaded paths, at that time of 
 the day almost deserted, la Valliere took 
 his way. 
 
 The peaceful scene that stretched be- 
 fore his eyes, the vista of bare, intricately- 
 woven branches, the grass-bordered paths, 
 the quiet figures dotted here and there, 
 soothed his wearied senses and lured his 
 imagination to retrace once more the start- 
 ling fantasies of the past night. Once more 
 he sat by the bright wood fire in the chateau ; 
 once more the strange birds and flowers of 
 the fantastic screen quivered before his 
 eyes ; once more he saw that slight, perfect 
 form, that lovely face, lean eagerly forward 
 as if to meet him a sight that no man who 
 had once seen it could easily forget; once
 
 60 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 more, but now fainter and more uncertain, 
 he saw the intruding figure of the Abb, if 
 it were an abbe, and his heart beat suddenly 
 with an intense longing that this entrancing 
 scene mio-ht a^ain take form in substance 
 
 O O 
 
 and in fact. 
 
 As this longing became more intense, 
 and he slowly paced the straight, tree- 
 bordered path, it flashed suddenly upon 
 his recollection that it was only when the 
 strange visitant had stolen softly from out 
 of the darkness, and had spoken, or had 
 appeared to speak, to the unconscious 
 Countess, that she had manifested any in- 
 terest whatever in himself. However she 
 might have been attracted by la Valliere's 
 acting, and have wished to make his ac- 
 quaintance, yet, as the evening drew on,
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 61 
 
 her manner, so far as it had shown any 
 interest at all, had seemed to concentrate 
 itself entirely on de Brie. It was not till 
 after this mysterious intercourse that her 
 manner had changed, and her heart had 
 seemed to entertain new aspirations and 
 new desires. 
 
 As this thought occurred to la Valliere 
 with greater and still greater certainty of 
 recollection, it seemed that his longing 
 changed, and that an intense desire formed 
 itself in his mind to see this strange per- 
 sonage again, as though he felt that it was 
 through its mediation, and this only, that 
 his object could be obtained. But along 
 all the distant vista of straight walk and 
 grassy verge, no such figure, intensely as 
 he sought it, met his gaze.
 
 62 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 But it seemed singular, even to la 
 Valliere's excited thought, that, though 
 this strange medium was absent, the scene 
 by the fireside repeated itself with a sur- 
 prising freshness and intensity in his fancy, 
 an intensity so overpowering as to absorb 
 all his faculties in a burning desire to see 
 it again enacted ; and, by a curious reac- 
 tion, into a settled purpose to see almost 
 a prayer that he might see this mysteri- 
 ous figure once more. ' Whoever, what- 
 ever it might be, from above or from 
 below, be it good or evil,' the concentrated 
 will seemed to cry, ' Appear ! show your- 
 self again ! ' 
 
 But down the long alleys, and through 
 the thickly-planted trees, there was still no 
 sign.
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 63 
 
 He had by this time reached a bend 
 of the fortified fosse which concealed the 
 city more completely from sight, and as far 
 as his eye could reach, the glacis was even 
 more absolutely solitary than before.' In 
 the distance, where the wall turned again, 
 the quaint, sharp turrets of a city gate cut 
 the misty pallor of the sky. Between la 
 Valliere and this distant object, over the 
 long stretch of glacis and planted walk, not 
 a single figure could be seen. 
 
 He advanced some way along the silent 
 avenue, and an overpowering feeling im- 
 pressed his senses that something was 
 near. It seemed that through the veil 
 of sunny ether that surrounded him some 
 strange personality was approaching, and 
 endeavouring to make itself visible ; an
 
 64 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 excited desperation of feeling, of mingled 
 apprehension and desire, of attraction and 
 repulsion, resolved itself finally into a fixed 
 determination to see. 
 
 The next moment, by the third tree 
 from him on the right hand, la Valliere 
 saw the Abbe again. 
 
 He seemed to advance towards la 
 Valliere with an insinuating gesture and 
 attitude, and that singular sensation, as of 
 the presence of a masque, forced itself 
 again upon his mind, a masqued form, a 
 masqued nature, a masqued purpose ; and 
 in a singularly curious way there seemed, 
 on the part of the stranger, to exist a feel- 
 ing which corresponded with the feeling in 
 la Valliere's mind ; on his part a suave, 
 attractive friendliness, and yet a craven
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 65 
 
 fear ; on la Valliere's part, a desire at one 
 moment to meet the singular visitant half- 
 way, at the next an equally strong impulse 
 to turn and flee from him a complicated 
 dual impression which, one would surely 
 think, must involve the two in a hopeless 
 mesh and net of intricate wandering' and 
 loss. 
 
 As la Valliere awaited his approach 
 the Abbe seemed about to speak more 
 than once, or possibly he did speak without 
 la Valliere's being able to catch a sound ; 
 but at last something like the faintest soft 
 whisper, a courteous and persuasive voice, 
 was perceptible to his sense, and he seemed 
 to hear these words 
 
 ' If Monsieur Felix la Valliere will go 
 to the vesper service at the Convent of 
 
 F
 
 66 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 Our Lady of Pity this evening, at five 
 o'clock, he will find his friend Monsieur de 
 Brie, and he will also see another friend.' 
 
 ' And the other friend ? ' la Valliere 
 himself seemed to say in the same hushed 
 undertone. 
 
 ' Is Madame la Comtesse du Pic- Adam?' 
 
 'If I am not mistaken,' said la Val- 
 liere, still concentrating all his power of 
 will to keep the figure of the Abbe within 
 his sense of vision and to hear his voice 
 'if I am not mistaken I have had the 
 pleasure already of seeing Monsieur l'Abb6 
 at the chateau of Monsieur le Comte, but, 
 what was somewhat singular, Monsieur le 
 Comte assured me that he was uncon- 
 scious of his presence.' 
 
 A most striking and singular expres-
 
 in THE COUNTESS EVE 67 
 
 sion formed itself upon the other's face 
 an expression compounded of mocking 
 amusement, or what would have been 
 amusement in other men, and an unspeak- 
 ably malefic and vindictive look. 
 
 ' I am nevertheless well acquainted 
 with Monsieur le Comte, and he with me,' 
 said the fair-spoken yet malefic voice. ' I 
 may even in some sense claim him as my 
 parent or perhaps my parrain' 
 
 To la Valliere's excited fancy, trained 
 as it was to detect play and parody upon 
 words, a singular ambiguity seemed to 
 lurk in this speech, more so than perhaps 
 the words might warrant. 
 
 * Parrainj he said, ' may mean, I be- 
 lieve, either a godfather or a soldier 
 appointed to be the executioner of his
 
 68 THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 comrade. I trust that this is not the 
 function of Monsieur I'Abbe.' 
 
 ' It may come even to that,' the baleful 
 voice replied. 
 
 There was a pause. In spite of la 
 Valliere's intense desire to see and hear, 
 the figure became every moment more 
 indistinct the voice fainter. 
 
 ' Monsieur la Valliere will not fail to 
 attend the vespers this evening,'-- the 
 empty, misty air seemed full of the soft 
 yet mocking words, ' and above all things 
 let him remember to be bold.' 
 
 The empty air must have produced 
 the sound, for down the long perspective 
 of terraced walk, as far as the distant 
 pinnacles of the city gate, no form or 
 figure could be seen.
 
 IV 
 
 LA VALLIERE did not fail to attend the 
 vesper service at the Convent of Our 
 Lady of Pity the same afternoon. The 
 nuns used the parish church, to which 
 their convent adjoined, for their service, 
 and as their singing was extremely good, 
 the vesper service was the fashionable 
 lounge of the city idlers of both sexes. 
 
 When la Valliere entered the church 
 a considerable portion of the nave was 
 occupied by a numerous audience, seated 
 upon chairs. Pausing for a few moments 
 on the outskirts of this crowd he at last
 
 70 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 perceived a group, near the antique screen 
 that stretched in front of the chancel, 
 that seemed familiar to him. Making his 
 way quietly round the edge of the crowd, 
 he found that this group consisted of the 
 Countess, accompanied by two girls, of 
 his friend de Brie, of two young officers 
 of the regiment in garrison whom he had 
 already met, and of a little old Vicomte, a 
 cadet of a noble family in the neighbour- 
 hood, a man notorious for existing simply 
 for the purpose of retailing to one ac- 
 quaintance after another the last scandal- 
 ous story he could hear or invent. 
 
 'Ah, Monsieur la Valliere,' he whis- 
 pered, as soon as the young actor ap- 
 proached him, after addressing the others, 
 ' how pale the lovely Countess looks !
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 71 
 
 Fancy that old don of a husband of hers, 
 instead of hastening with her to Paris, 
 settling down in this villainous little town, 
 which I have described in a word as stu- 
 pidity personified. Not bad, was it ? No 
 wonder she looks ennuyde. How could 
 she be otherwise with that monster of a 
 husband, cold as his own snow -peak ? 
 He is doubtless right. She would not be 
 his long in Paris. Besides he is a great 
 man here. She looks to you, mon ami, to 
 se ddsennuyer! 
 
 He did not think it necessary to tell 
 la Valliere that he had given precisely the 
 same advice to both the young officers, and 
 used the same words exactly, at a dejeuner 
 in the city at which he had been present 
 that morning.
 
 72 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 The parish church in which the nuns 
 sang was an ancient Gothic structure of 
 the thirteenth century, at the time we are 
 speaking of very much neglected and 
 decayed. The pavement of the nave 
 was broken and uneven, and the hand 
 of time had softened every carved column 
 and sculptured tomb to a gracious mel- 
 lowness of outline. The short spring 
 day was drawing to a close, and behind 
 the lofty rood-screen, with its towering 
 crucifix, dark shadows, thrown from the 
 lights of distant altars, brooded over the 
 space beyond, and ascended to the lofty, 
 foliated roofs and to the arcades of the 
 aisles. The gigantic, reedlike pillars of 
 the nave loomed vaguely in the sombre 
 light.
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 73 
 
 The Countess had chosen a seat near 
 one of these massive pillars, by which she 
 sat together with the two girls, her com- 
 panions. The old Vicomte and the two 
 officers, who were both noble, sat imme- 
 diately behind them, and de Brie and 
 la Valliere still farther back ; but the 
 arrangement of the chairs around the 
 column left a clear space between the 
 two young men and the Countess, which 
 it was easy to overpass. 
 
 From the grated gallery of the nuns, 
 beyond the shadowy veil of screen and 
 crucifix, floated down the soft, melodious 
 harmonies of women's voices, in wave 
 after wave of delicate sound, like the 
 measured refrain of an angelic choir 
 ' Missus est Gabriel angelus.'
 
 74 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 The notes fell upon de Erie's mind 
 with a sense of peace and calm, pure and 
 undefiled by stain of earth as was the 
 heart of that Holy Maiden to whom the 
 Angel Gabriel was sent. 
 
 It would be difficult to find greater 
 divergence of motive than that which had 
 brought the two friends to the same place 
 and service. De Brie constantly attended 
 the vespers of the nuns. He had even 
 composed music which they had sung. He 
 came partly from love of the music, partly 
 because the sacredness of the place and 
 of the words was congenial to his spirit, 
 which found and heard in every incident 
 and sound of daily life something holy and 
 inspiring, something that left the spirit 
 better and more refined than before.
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 75 
 
 Himself a skilled musician, he had never 
 for a moment lost the divine message of 
 music in the outward form. Music was 
 to him not a scientifically balanced system 
 of notes. It was an infinite and eternal 
 voice speaking to the soul of man. 
 
 We know something of the motives 
 which have brought la Valliere to the 
 service. He had been present before, in 
 accordance with the fashion of the city in 
 which, for a time,, he found himself. To- 
 day, however, he came from no motives 
 of fashion ; his mind and senses were lost 
 in a chaos of excitement, and of conflict- 
 ing strifes and ideas. 
 
 The Stabat Mater was being sung to 
 a motet which de Brie himself had written 
 for the nuns. In the contrast between
 
 76 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 its sad strains and the fashionable assem- 
 blage there was something which, at the 
 moment, struck his fancy with a sense of 
 reality ; even the rustling of silk, the slight 
 noises, the occasional whisper, did not jar 
 upon his ear, rather they seemed to him 
 part of the great mystery of sound, and 
 of the mystery which sound conveys. 
 
 ' Sancta Mater, istud agas, 
 Crucifixi fige plagas 
 
 Cordi meo valide. 
 Tui Nati vulnerati 
 Tarn dignati pro me pati 
 Pcenas mecum divide.' 
 
 The mystery that transmutes, with a won- 
 drous alchemy, the long, weary hours of 
 pain into the happiest life ; the mystery of 
 sacrifice and of pain ; the mystery which 
 is in itself a personal, plastic Force ; the 
 mystery expressed in sound by concerted
 
 IV THE COUNTESS EVE 77 
 
 discord, must surely be able to absorb 
 into itself the frivolous and disturbing 
 elements of life. 
 
 He was engaged, rapt in an ecstasy of 
 wonder and delight, in forming more ex- 
 
 O *-5 
 
 quisitely- suggestive chords, if any such 
 existed, by which these ideas might, if 
 possible, be adequately expressed, when 
 he was suddenly startled by la Valliere's 
 hand laid upon his arm. 
 
 ' Do you know that abbe who is stand- 
 ing by the pillar speaking to Madame la 
 Comtesse ?' 
 
 'Abbe?' replied de Brie crossly, 'you 
 are dreaming ; there is no one there. 
 There is no one by the pillar speaking to 
 the Countess.' 
 
 ' No one ! ' said la Valliere beneath
 
 78 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 his breath. ' No one ! Do you mean to 
 tell me that you do not see him ? and she 
 is listening to him too ! Look ! she turns 
 her head ! ' 
 
 It was true. The Countess at that 
 moment, inspired apparently by some 
 sudden impulse, turned in her seat and 
 fixed her eyes with an expression of kindly 
 appeal full on la Valliere's face. 
 
 The Stabat Mater had ceased, and 
 there was a moment's hush of delicious 
 sound. La Valliere rose from his seat, 
 and as he rose he was conscious, wild and 
 unsettled as his thoughts were, that the 
 figure of the Abb6 faded suddenly from 
 his sight and disappeared behind the 
 massive, carved pillar. Scarcely knowing 
 what he did, la Valliere took his place.
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 79 
 
 ' You have seen too little of Paradise, 
 Monsieur la Valliere,' the Countess was 
 saying in her softest voice and most 
 courteous manner. 'You must return 
 soon, even at this time of year.' 
 
 ' Entrance into Paradise is hardly for 
 us mortals, Madame la Comtesse,' replied 
 la Valliere in a soft voice. ' The beauty 
 dazzles us, the fine air is too pure for us 
 to breathe ; we faint and die in the unac- 
 customed life.' 
 
 ' You are too modest,' said the Countess 
 with a gracious, winning smile. ' We will 
 not treat you so badly as that. What 
 pledge of welcome shall I give you ? ' 
 
 ' There is only one key to Paradise, 
 Madame,' said la Valliere, still in a soft 
 undertone. ' Only one spell by which the
 
 80 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 gates fall open, and the happy visitant 
 walks the sunny paths void of fear and at 
 ease. That key is love.' 
 
 As he spoke these words the nuns be- 
 gan the antiphon before the Magnificat, 
 Magnum H<zr edit atis Mysterium, and the 
 conoreoration became silent once more. 
 
 o o 
 
 The Countess looked full in la Valliere's 
 face as she sat back in her chair. 
 
 Surely a great ' mystery of inheritance ' 
 that Paradise should open with the key of 
 love ! For a moment a look of eager 
 inquiry and hope came into her eyes, then 
 a sudden, dark shade passed over her 
 lovely face, which relapsed into the look 
 of wearied sadness that was habitual to it. 
 
 'You are right,' she said softly ; 'there 
 is no Paradise without love.'
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE Si 
 
 ' Missus est Gabriel angelus,' the nuns 
 had sung. Pure and holy as was the story 
 of that heaven -born messenger, it was not 
 more pure than the thoughts that passed 
 through her own heart as she listened to 
 the alluring, monotonous strain. The 
 weight of a grievous disappointment was 
 pressing her down, the weight of her hus- 
 band's melancholy and icy reserve, more 
 frozen, as it seemed, from the occasional 
 futile effort to cast it off cr to conceal it, 
 a weight the more insupportable because 
 its real origin and cause was unknown to 
 her one of those 'mysteries of inherit- 
 ance ' which defile the ground -springs of 
 life, and which waste and mar our loves. 
 
 ' There is no key to Paradise save that 
 of love ' ; they were strange and searching
 
 8 2 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 words that its paths were only peaceful 
 and happy with love that without love 
 the heart died of famine in the empty air. 
 How true they were! How well she 
 knew them to be true ! 
 
 They were spoken by an elegant and 
 polished stranger, a trained, actor on the 
 stage of life, every tone and word and 
 gesture nicely chosen for the attaining of 
 his end, possessed of every art and trick 
 of tone and manner to please the heart and 
 ear. ' The only key to Paradise was 
 love.' What had she done to forfeit her 
 husband's love ? What should she do 
 *now that Paradise might be hers, really 
 hers ; not as walking its paths as a chance 
 stranger only, but as the owner and mis- 
 tress of the enchanting scene ? What part
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 83 
 
 was this pleasant friend destined to play 
 in her life ? he that had so suddenly 
 appeared in her paths accompanied with 
 such strange suggestive thoughts and 
 emotions within herself? He had seemed 
 to help her already. Should she trust 
 to his friendliness for further aid ? 
 
 But there was another whose thoughts 
 were troubled among the thoughtless 
 audience and amidst the wealth of lovely 
 sound. De Brie had been startled out of 
 his musical reverie of pious musing by la 
 Valliere's strange assertion, and by the 
 coincidence which followed and seemed to 
 substantiate it the singular fact that the 
 Countess should at that moment turn her 
 inviting gaze upon his friend. A sense of 
 mystery, of the presence of felt but unseen
 
 84 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 influences, oppressed him with a feeling of 
 apprehension, almost of dread. Some- 
 thing terrible so it seemed to him 
 might happen at any time. Around the 
 outskirts of the human crowd, Powers 
 inimical to human virtue, perhaps even to 
 human life, seemed to hover, invisible and 
 impalpable, ready at any moment to con- 
 centrate their inherent powers, the power 
 of beings purely intellectual, for the work- 
 ' ing of their own malefic ends. What could 
 he do to stem this evil ? to defeat this 
 plot against human happiness ? to deliver 
 those who were bound, whom Satan would 
 lead captive at his will ? 
 
 1 Holy Mother of Redemption, 
 By that Ave Gabriel brought, 
 By the blessing of that Ave 
 Sinners kneel to Thee ! '
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 85 
 
 The concluding antiphon of the season 
 was being sung by the nuns. 
 
 The congregation streamed out on to 
 the pavd of the churchyard, surrounded 
 by the lofty, gabled houses of the old 
 city, to a strange light the solemn, even- 
 ing sky of spring, the flambeaux of the 
 servants, and the glimmer from the houses 
 shining on the wet flags. The old Vis- 
 count conducted the Countess to her car- 
 riage, to which the girls who were her 
 companions followed her. As she entered 
 she turned to la Valliere, who was close 
 by, and said some words to him in a 
 low voice. As the carriage drove off 
 la Valliere turned back into the church- 
 yard to rejoin his friend. De Brie was 
 late in leaving the church, having remained
 
 86 THE COUNTESS EVE iv 
 
 in prayer, and la Valliere met him at the 
 west door. 
 
 Then, in the fitful, uncertain, flickering 
 light, as he turned to accompany his friend, 
 close to the spot the Countess's coach had 
 just left, by the side of the paved pathway 
 to the gate, and beneath a quaint iron 
 standard containing an oil -lamp, he saw 
 the Abbe again, his face fully turned 
 towards the young men. 
 
 ' Claude ! ' he cried, passionately seizing 
 his friend by the arm ; ' there he is again 
 the Abbe whom you will not see. You 
 shall see him. There, by the lamp ! ' 
 
 He held de Brie by the arm, and 
 unconsciously exerted all the force of his 
 vivid and intense personality upon the 
 consciousness of his dearest friend, with
 
 iv THE COUNTESS EVE 87 
 
 whom he had been brought up from child- 
 hood, the sympathy with whose spirit was 
 closer than that with any of his own 
 kindred. ' Claude, you shall see him. 
 There, by the lamp ! ' 
 
 De Erie's attitude seemed to stiffen, as 
 though a motive -power not his own ran 
 through his frame. He turned his eyes in 
 the direction pointed out to him, and in 
 a moment the pupils dilated into a fixed 
 and terror-stricken gaze. A look of horror 
 and of intense distrust and repulsion dead- 
 ened the colour of his face into a ghastly 
 white. He gasped for breath, and clutch- 
 ing wildly at la Valliere's arm, he sank 
 senseless on to the paved footway.
 
 V 
 
 THE two girls thought that the Countess 
 was very quiet as she drove home. When 
 they found that their chatter was unheeded 
 they subsided into silence, and the Coun- 
 tess sat looking steadfastly before her, the 
 words of la Valliere still ringing in her 
 ears. ' There is no entrance into Paradise 
 without love.' These words mingled with 
 tones of the nun's singing, with the clear 
 altos and trebles which recited the sorrows 
 of the Mother of God. Was all that long- 
 past story nothing but a metaphor of the 
 hours that were present to her, and to all ?
 
 v THE COUNTESS EVE 89 
 
 There were pure virgins now to whom the 
 angel of God came ; could there possibly 
 be a second Eve ? 
 
 She left the two girls ac. their home 
 without the city gate, and on her arrival 
 at the chateau, went up at once into the 
 private suite of apartments, where she 
 expected to find her husband. Young as 
 she was she heard a voice speaking to her, 
 that told her that a crisis in her life was 
 near; that it behoved her to be careful of her 
 steps ; that, above all things, as she might 
 hope to respect herself hereafter, it was 
 incumbent upon her to see her husband at 
 once, that very night. What might happen, 
 she, poor child, could not tell. Any way, 
 she would be there would speak to him, 
 would show herself by his side.
 
 90 THE COUNTESS EVE v 
 
 The apartments which the Count and 
 Countess occupied consisted of four or five 
 rooms, terminating in a cabinet, formed in 
 a small projecting angle of the front, and 
 containing a staircase leading into the 
 private garden. 
 
 As the Countess passed through the 
 intervening rooms a vague sense of de- 
 pression weighed upon her mind. On 
 every side of her, as she passed, nothing 
 met her eyes but such objects as were 
 calculated to soothe and to please. The 
 walls were wreathed with carving of fruit 
 and flowers in strong relief, framing in the 
 midst of their own loveliness portraits and 
 landscapes more lovely than themselves ; 
 and below were buffets and presses full 
 of strange and beautiful and curious things.
 
 v THE COUNTESS EVE 91 
 
 The old major - domo accompanied the 
 Countess. 
 
 ' Monsieur le Comte,' he said, 'was in 
 the little cabinet at the end of the suite.' 
 He believed that he was there, because he 
 himself had been into the privy garden, to 
 speak to one of the gardeners, and Mon- 
 sieur was not there. 
 
 At these words, as it seemed, a still 
 deeper apprehension and dread, more 
 insupportable because so inexplicable, 
 troubled the Countess's mind. 
 
 ' Have you seen Monsieur since the 
 morning ? ' she said. 
 
 ' I attended Monsieur le Comte apres le 
 dejeuner" said the old servant. ' He ap- 
 peared to me distrait and absorbed.' 
 
 Drawing a heavy curtain that screened
 
 92 THE COUNTESS EVE v 
 
 a door opening into the cabinet, the major- 
 . domo bowed, and left his mistress to pro- 
 ceed alone. 
 
 She stood for a moment with clasped 
 hands before her, herself the most perfect 
 object in a world of beauty on every 
 side. 
 
 As she stood, in her bright, fanciful 
 dress, somewhat disordered by her after- 
 noon drive, with a delicate beauty and a 
 refinement of outline and of feature that 
 made her, as she stood, so perfect a pic- 
 ture in her beautiful house, there rose once 
 again in her heart, amid the entourage of 
 luxury and splendour and fine living, a 
 genuine longing and desire, common to the 
 loftiest and the humblest life the same in 
 the cottage as in the palace a longing for
 
 V THE COUNTESS EVE 93 
 
 love, a desire towards that which is, of all 
 things, most to be desired, a life of pure 
 and holy domestic love. ' Missus est 
 Gabriel angelus ' the nuns had sung. The 
 sweet tones, the mystic words, haunted her 
 sense, and seemed to teach her something 
 beyond her sense, beyond all thought and 
 hope of hers, beyond all the thought and 
 hope of men. 
 
 The door of the cabinet was open, and 
 she stopped for a moment before going in. 
 The Count was seated, with his back to 
 her, at a table at which apparently he had 
 been writing. The room was lighted with 
 candles, but the curtains of the windows 
 were still undrawn, and outside a brilliant 
 moon revealed the garden and the distant 
 wooded fields in a faint vision of delicate
 
 94 THE COUNTESS EVE v 
 
 forms and lines ; but what the Countess 
 saw, in a sudden vision that absorbed all 
 her faculties, was neither the Count, nor 
 the room, nor the faint moonlit distance, 
 etched as it were upon the dark back- 
 ground of night, but what her intense 
 mental sympathy, her pure love for her 
 husband, revealed to her as that which at 
 the same moment was present to his own 
 mental gaze. 
 
 His form was fixed and rigid, and his 
 gaze appeared concentrated upon the land- 
 scape without. 
 
 ' I never see her, never see her.' It 
 was the Count speaking, though the voice 
 was scarcely his own, so strange and faint 
 it seemed. ' Never see her, and yet she 
 must be always near me.'
 
 v THE COUNTESS EVE 95 
 
 It was evident that, no more than the 
 Countess, did he see the objects that were 
 really before his eyes. 
 
 She saw, as she stopped sudden and 
 still upon the threshold of the room, plain 
 and distinct in vision before her eyes, a 
 dark lake, wild and vast and dreary, lying 
 as it were in eternal gloom ; the chill, 
 terrible waters, motionless with the stillness 
 of a settled despair, black with unfathom- 
 able mysteries of the dim aeons of exist- 
 ence when the world lay void and misty 
 and slimy in the pangs of creation ; and 
 over the lake, indistinct in mystic shadow, 
 pinewood and forest dingle, and, still higher, 
 the rocky scars and shoulders of the great 
 hills, and then a belt of mist and cloud- 
 land, and then, high against the azure sky,
 
 96 THE COUNTESS EVE v 
 
 serene, impassive, not of this earth, amid 
 the solemn unapproachable dawns and the 
 celestial sunsets, cold and terrible as a 
 dream, pure and lovely as a saint, pallid, 
 lofty, wonderful, the stainless form of a 
 peak of snow. 
 
 ' I never see her/ said the Count 
 again ; ' never see her, yet she must be 
 near.' 
 
 The Countess sank on her knees beside 
 her husband's chair, her hands resting upon 
 the carved arms. Between her and him 
 there seemed to rise an impassable barrier 
 nay, rather a positive, active presence, a 
 dividing force. He seemed unconscious 
 even that she was there. He did not 
 move, nothing moved, nothing happened. 
 It seemed, indeed, impossible that any-
 
 V THE CQUNTESS EVE 97 
 
 thing could ever happen any more hence 
 the terrible, the hopeless despair. 
 
 The Countess rose slowly from the 
 ground, stood for a second upon the 
 threshold then she left the room.
 
 VI 
 
 DE BRIE was carried back into the church, 
 and from thence, as he did not recover 
 consciousness, into the visitors' room of the 
 convent ; but it was a long time before he 
 came to himself. When he had recollected 
 himself a shudder of horror passed over 
 his frame, and he absolutely refused to tell 
 what he had seen. 
 
 ' Do not ask me what I saw,' he said. 
 
 ' He has received,' said the doctor, 
 sententiously, ' a tremendous moral shock, 
 which has for a moment annihilated his 
 rational sense. It is in such cases as these
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 99 
 
 that we may hope to gain an insight, the 
 only one it would seem that we can gain, 
 into the relationship of the seen with the 
 unseen. By witnessing such startling 
 events w y e seem to be placed eu rapport 
 with powers and influences outside our 
 everyday life.' 
 
 De Brie seemed so shattered and ill that 
 he was removed into an adjoining room, 
 where the doctor directed that he should 
 be left in perfect quiet, visited at intervals 
 only by one of 'the nursing sisters. As he 
 became more composed he requested to be 
 allowed to see the Abbess, saying that he 
 had something of the utmost importance 
 to communicate to her. 
 
 The Abbess came into the room, and 
 they were left alone. She was a beautiful
 
 ioo THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 woman of early middle life, tall, and of 
 dignified appearance. She had suffered, 
 and knew how to pity the suffering. It was 
 not the first time that she had seen de Brie. 
 He had even, as we have seen, composed 
 music which had been sung by the nuns. 
 
 ' You have something of great import- 
 ance to communicate to me, my son,' she 
 said. 
 
 ' My mother,' said de Brie, ' do not ask 
 me what I saw. I cannot tell you what I 
 saw. It seemed to me that I saw a vision, 
 a foul and terrible vision as far as words 
 can faintly image w'hat I saw ghastly 
 with the horrors of the charnel-house and 
 the grave, with all the foulness of cor- 
 ruption and with all the horror of de- 
 spair, a figure, gaunt with the terrors of
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 101 
 
 a skeleton, and the grewsome pallor of a 
 shroud. It seemed to me that I saw for 
 a moment's span all that evil could work 
 of ravin, that innocence could suffer of 
 defilement, that fair fame and prospects 
 could endure of disappointment and de- 
 lusion. I cannot tell you what I saw.' 
 
 The Abbess was seated at some distance 
 from de Brie, who had risen from his couch 
 and was seated upon the edge of it, his 
 hands clasped before him, very pale, and 
 troubled in mind, hardly able to control his 
 voice. 
 
 ' My mother,' he went on after a pause, 
 'some terrible evil is menacing my dearest 
 friend, la Valliere, and it connects itself 
 with the Comtesse du Pic-Adam. Some 
 fatal misfortune will befall both of them
 
 102 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 unless aid can be found. She appears to 
 be estranged from her husband, to whom 
 she has been so recently married, by some 
 mysterious fate or reason, some strange 
 dividing power that stands between them. 
 She is attracted towards la Valliere by as 
 mysterious a force. La Valliere is good, 
 amiable, true, but he is the slave of his 
 feelings, carried away by the passion of 
 the moment ; a born actor, to whom all 
 parts are alike. They are lost unless some 
 help may be found. Were it possible to 
 discover the reason of the Count's strange 
 absorption much would be gained.' 
 
 Some deep emotion disturbed the 
 Abbess's mind. She became absolutely 
 palej and seemed, after a moment's conflict 
 of hesitation, to arrive at a resolve which
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 103 
 
 involved self- sacrifice and some unspeak- 
 able effort and pain. A slight shudder 
 passed over her figure as she spoke. 
 
 ' My son,' she said, 'I know and con- 
 fide in you. I know that you are pure 
 in heart and life, a good Catholic, a true 
 son of the Church. I will confide all to 
 you. I can reveal the mystery that over- 
 shadows the Comte and Comtesse du Pic- 
 Adam, and which has drawn your friend 
 into its fatal meshes. It is a sad story of 
 woman's frailty. It will rend my heart to 
 tell it. It is my duty to tell it to you, 
 and to suffer in the telling. It is a pen- 
 ance, which is but part of a life of penance, 
 much of which, I begin to fear, has been 
 self-appointed and mischosen, and there- 
 fore ineffectual and even pernicious. This
 
 104 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 penance is of God's appointment. It shall 
 be borne. May God in His mercy accept 
 it, and make it efficient and fruitful to the 
 salvation of His creatures from the snare 
 of the Fiend. You tell me that the 
 Countess is estranged from her husband ; 
 I will tell you why.' 
 
 De Brie gazed at the Abbess with 
 astonishment. His mind, already unsettled 
 and disturbed, was still further perplexed 
 by this strange and unexpected announce- 
 ment. He almost doubted his own sanity 
 and that of the Abbess. He seemed to be 
 wandering in a wild, unhallowed dream. 
 
 'Twenty years ago,' began the Abbess, 
 ' there was a young girl. She lived with a 
 great and noble lady, her patroness and mis- 
 tressMadame la Comtesse du Pic-Adam.'
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 105 
 
 The Abbess lingered over this name as 
 though she loved it, and yet at the same 
 time spoke it with effort and reluctance. 
 She paused for a moment to gather 
 strength and resolve before she went on. 
 
 ' From the top of the Jura heights, 
 which you can see from the chateau of the 
 Count, you may discern, on a very clear 
 day, beyond the nearer snowpeaks of the 
 Alps, a distant peak clear and sharp 
 against the sky. Beneath this peak this 
 young girl lived, in the chateau of her 
 mistress, in one of the valley-passes 
 dropping down into Italy. The Comtes 
 du Pic-Adam were French. Some ances- 
 tor, a soldier in the French armies of 
 invasion, had married the daughter of a 
 small noble and settled down on his estate,
 
 io6 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 calling himself, as his father-in-law had 
 done, by the name of the snowpeak that 
 rose above his valley, and of which strange 
 tales of a supernatural spirit -world were 
 told by the peasants. They believed that 
 our father Adam, wandering from Paradise, 
 with all the world before him in which to 
 choose a place of rest, had climbed this 
 inaccessible peak, and had held supreme 
 council, if not with God Himself, at least 
 with celestial messengers and spirits, as to 
 his future course. The descendants of this 
 French soldier, in later and more peace- 
 able times, called themselves French, and 
 served the French king, both at home and 
 abroad. 
 
 'Of all the great and noble ladies 
 whom God has sent into this world to
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 107 
 
 beautify His creation, to glorify His name, 
 and for the relief and happiness of His 
 suffering creatures, none ever fulfilled the 
 object of their Creator more fully than did 
 Madame la Comtesse du Pic- Adam. If 
 any man had, by the snare of Satan, come 
 to doubt the existence of a merciful God, 
 or had suffered himself to believe or to 
 conclude that righteousness and virtue 
 were empty names, that unselfishness and 
 sacrifice were a foolish dream, and that 
 human nature differs nothing from the 
 nature of the beasts that perish, he had 
 only to know Madame la Comtesse for one 
 day, for one hour even, and he changed 
 his mind. The mountain peaks were not 
 more pure and stainless than was her 
 mind, nor so lofty nor so near to heaven
 
 io8 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 as were her thoughts ; and the chiefest 
 ministering angel could scarcely be more 
 touched by the sorrows of humanity, more 
 ready or more constant in help. As she 
 moved about her household, or among the 
 cottages of the poor, or upon the terraces 
 of her hill-gardens, or in the great halls or 
 amid the brilliant crowds of castles and 
 cities, she did not seem like a being of 
 this world. This young girl worshipped 
 her as a saint of God.' 
 
 The Abbess paused, as though the task 
 she had set herself was wellnigh beyond 
 her power. Then she went on. De Brie 
 held his breath in nervous strain. 
 
 ' This lady had an only son, the Comte 
 du Pic- Adam whom you know. He had 
 been educated at home, under tutors, but
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 109 
 
 he was afterwards sent with his gouverneur 
 to Paris and other cities. His mother was 
 ambitious, as far as he was concerned. 
 She was descended from a family of higher 
 nobility than her husband was, and she 
 wished her son to take a higher place in 
 the court and in the world than his family 
 had ever filled, and above all things that 
 he should marry within la haute noblesse. 
 All this the young girl knew. 
 
 ' The young Count came home. As 
 might be expected, he was very much 
 changed by his foreign life. He seemed, 
 however, to be thoroughly true and affec- 
 tionate to his mother, and of gallant and 
 lofty aspirations and desires. He was 
 very handsome and perfectly bred. 
 
 ' Madame la Comtesse du Pic -Adam
 
 I io THE COUNTESS EVE VI 
 
 was of that noblest of natures which never 
 suspects evil. More than in any one else she 
 believed and trusted in the young girl, whom 
 she had brought up, whom she had all but 
 created, upon whom she had lavished the 
 wealth of her love and the dower of her 
 great example, all that was in her power 
 to bestow of enjoyment and of instruction 
 in all the arts that make life happy, the 
 hours golden, the possessor fortunate. 
 The young Count saw in this young girl 
 something that pleased his fancy. He 
 spoke to her kindly of his journeyings. 
 He met her at every turn. He used to 
 hunt in the forests and on the craggy 
 rocks where the chamois haunt ; but he 
 used to come back earlier than was sup- 
 posed, and the young girl knew where to
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE in 
 
 meet him, by chance, in the lower terraces 
 of the gardens, by the woods. I have no 
 power to go on, but there is no need/ 
 
 There was a short deathlike pause. 
 Then the Abbess spoke again. 
 
 ' One terrible, one fatal night, the 
 Countess had been on a visit to a neigh- 
 bouring town and chateau, and had taken 
 the young girl with her. They returned 
 after nightfall surrounded by servants with 
 torches. I remember the steep roads, the 
 swaying of the great pine branches in the 
 wind, the moaning of the coming storm. 
 We reached the vast, rambling chateau in 
 safety. 
 
 ' The Count had been supping alone. 
 He was excited beyond his wont. The 
 Countess was fatigued and went to her
 
 ii2 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 rooms at once. In one of the saloons of 
 the chateau these two met. 
 
 ' For one moment of wild delirium, for 
 it was not pleasure, she gave up all. All 
 the heaven of purity and peace and loving 
 devotion and respect, all the innocent 
 gaiety that was so happy because it was 
 ignorant of conscious evil, all the memory 
 of the past that was so lovely, all the hope 
 of the future that was so bright, all that 
 makes woman the priceless treasure of 
 humanity, the beloved of Heaven ! O, 
 my God ! My God ! ' 
 
 The Abbess stopped. De Brie sank 
 from off his seat upon his knees and 
 buried his face in his hands. There fol- 
 lowed a silence that might be felt. 
 
 ' It was only for a moment. Then she
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 113 
 
 tore herself from the Count's embrace and 
 fled, as with the brand of Cain, through 
 corridor and chamber. She threw herself 
 upon her bed, but long before the dawn 
 she rose, made her way to a familiar pos- 
 tern door, and went out into the night. 
 
 ' The predicted storm had come, but 
 without rain. A brilliant, star-strewn sky 
 was overhead, a wild storm-wind swept up 
 the valley from the south and rent and 
 swung the great branches of the trees the 
 great black branches that hung like ghostly 
 forms above my head. A terrible cry and 
 wailing, as of souls in torment, tore the dis- 
 tracted air and the distraught brain alike. 
 
 ' Through the terraces of the garden, 
 over the strewn rack of leaf and flower 
 
 and branch, out into the wild forest^ up 
 i
 
 H 4 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 into the wooded dingles, not knowing, not 
 caring whither she went, the girl hurried 
 on, driven by remorse and by despair. 
 At last she found herself on the borders 
 of a great lake, a lake which she knew 
 well. It lay still and unruffled beneath 
 the great rocks and the forests of pines 
 and of oaks, undisturbed by the storm- 
 tossed woodlands and howling, piercing 
 wind, its unfathomable depths in which, 
 as legends reported, monsters of the prim- 
 eval world still lurked black and desolate 
 beneath the starry, placid sky. Then long 
 streaks of light, which were not those of 
 the stars, began to draw themselves out 
 beyond the mountains and the trees ; black 
 clouds, flying as from a pitiless foe, hurried 
 across the sky, torn and twisted into fan-
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 115 
 
 tastic shapes, and tinged here and there 
 with this strange, lurid light that was 
 coming into the sky : and above far 
 above, out of all reach of human hope 
 cold and icy and pitiless in the terrible 
 light, rose the great peak, white with the 
 starlight that was passing away, tinged, as 
 were the rushing storm-clouds, with the 
 glimmer of the dawn. 
 
 ' On the bank of the cold, relentless 
 lake, dark with unknown horrors, the girl 
 stood at last. I believe now I have 
 believed for years that had she gone 
 back, the Countess, merciful, holy, forgiv- 
 ing as a saint, would have received her as 
 a daughter that the Count would have 
 married her ; but how could she go back ? 
 How could she look into that loved face ?
 
 Ii6 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 How could she stand before the gaze of 
 those pure, those pitiful, those searching 
 eyes ? How could she have married him ? 
 How could she have endured to live with 
 him after that terrible, that fatal night ? ' 
 
 ' She stood for a long time upon the 
 waters' brink. Some impulse, doubtless 
 of God for why should He who cares for 
 the sparrows be supposed careless of this 
 poor, distraught, maddened creature - 
 restrained her from plunging into their 
 solemn depths. Suddenly a new thought, 
 a flash of light I do not think that it 
 was of God broke upon her mind, and 
 brought with it something that resembled 
 a dreary hope. She would leave some- 
 thing that would be recognised as hers 
 upon the grassy bank. They would think
 
 vi THE COUNTESS EVE 117 
 
 that she had perished beneath the black, 
 cold waters. They would forget her, or, 
 perhaps, who could tell ? when the first 
 shock of disappointment and of loathing 
 was over they might even pity her; and she, 
 the Countess, she who was so loving and 
 so merciful and so good, might even, in 
 the pure summer dawns as she lay awake, 
 might think of this poor child whom she 
 had loved and befriended and lavished 
 such gifts upon ; and even as the years 
 went on she mi^ht, who knows ? think of 
 
 o 7 
 
 her with something of the old love again 
 still as she would lie beneath the cold, 
 black water, harmless and impotent to in- 
 jure or to degrade her beloved son remem- 
 bering, as she surely would, how the girl had 
 loved her, how sincere was her gratitude,
 
 ii8 THE COUNTESS EVE vi 
 
 how true and devoted her love. The girl 
 left her cloak and hat upon the bank, and 
 went on through the valley down into the 
 pass. 
 
 ' For days and days she wandered on, 
 weary and half-starved, her feet torn and 
 bleeding by the roughness of the way, 
 begging for bread at the cottage doors. 
 Finally, after many days, she reached the 
 plains of Savoy. At the first village of any 
 size that she reached, she sought a con- 
 vent of nuns, she neither knew nor cared 
 of what order. There she threw herself 
 upon the doorstep and lay as dead.'
 
 VII 
 
 WHEN the Countess awoke early in the 
 spring morning, after a restless and uneasy 
 sleep, the sunshine was flooding the room 
 with warmth and light. She drank her 
 morning cup of coffee, and when she was 
 dressed she wandered out into the private 
 garden alone in the pure, delicate air, 
 driven by a devouring restlessness, a 
 desperate insurrection against fate against 
 the life that seemed to be opening before 
 her against this terrible mistake which, 
 as it seemed to her every moment more 
 clearly, she had made against this marriage
 
 120 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 that would blot out all the possibilities of 
 joy during the few short years given her 
 of youth and beauty, and of the possibility 
 to enjoy. She paced up and down the 
 sunny terrace shaded by the yew hedges 
 
 like a beautiful, wild animal snared and 
 
 
 
 imprisoned by a cruel guile. The warm 
 sunshine, the fresh morning air laden with 
 the scent of opening blossoms, seemed to 
 quicken within her spirit a consciousness 
 of pleasure and an instinct of hope ; with 
 the warm, scent-laden air there seemed to 
 glide into her sense, to thrill through every 
 nerve and vein, a personal and direct in- 
 fluence, prevenant and ingratiating, which 
 soothed her restless despair. 
 
 ' Console yourself,' a suave, bland voice 
 seemed to whisper in her ear ; 'your friend
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 121 
 
 will soon be here. Your pleasant, kindly 
 friend.' 
 
 Life seemed to open again before her 
 with a prospect fair and alluring as a 
 child's happy dream ; a waft of peace and 
 easy indulgence, dear to human frailty, 
 whispered compassion and allowance to 
 her senses and in her ear. 
 
 When la Valliere awoke on the same 
 morning his first thought was of his friend. 
 The next was one of bewilderment and 
 perplexity at the strange effect that the 
 sight, as he supposed, of the Abbe had 
 produced upon his friend. What could he 
 have seen that was so horrible, so terrible, 
 as to deprive him of consciousness, and to 
 produce, as the doctor had said, such a
 
 122 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 shock both to his body and his mind ? 
 He went to his friend's lodgings to in- 
 quire for him, but found that he had not 
 returned from the convent, where he had 
 passed the night. La Valliere went there, 
 but failed to gain any information. The 
 Abbess was fatigued and could not be seen. 
 Monsieur de Brie, who appeared to be 
 quite recovered, had left some time since, 
 to go whither the portress did not know. 
 La Valliere returned to his lodgings more 
 perplexed and bewildered than when he 
 had left them. 
 
 In the excited state of his feelings he 
 naturally remembered the invitation of the 
 Countess, with a desire to see again her 
 beautiful face, to listen to her soft accents 
 of kindly courtesy.
 
 VII THE COUNTESS EVE 123 
 
 The distance between the city and the 
 chateau was' so short that la Valliere went 
 there on foot. 
 
 The spring rain had laid every particle 
 of dust, the morning was delicately fine, 
 the birds sang in the parks and gardens 
 that lay beside the road that stretched 
 from the city gate in a straight line into 
 the country. At first level, but beginning 
 to undulate as it approached the hills, the 
 road was planted on either side with rows 
 of trees. 
 
 Before the young man had reached the 
 confines of the Count's park he was con- 
 scious of a presence near him, and in 
 another second the Abbe appeared to 
 him, walking by his side, with an appear- 
 ance of pleasant converse. There was
 
 124 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 now no necessity for effort, on la Valliere's 
 part, before he could see or hear him ; 
 on the contrary, the intercourse seemed 
 familiar and easy. Nevertheless, or perhaps 
 even in consequence of such familiarity, la 
 Valliere shrank from his companion with 
 increased dislike. 
 
 ' Sctldrat!' 1 he said excitedly ; ' why do 
 you dog my steps ? What infernal spell 
 did you cast yesterday night upon my 
 friend ? What did you do to him ? ' 
 
 And he laid his hand upon his sword. 
 
 ' Gently, my son! gently!' said the other, 
 always with his suave, masqued air and 
 voice. 'You forget what I am. I did 
 nothing to your friend. What he saw, 
 he saw from no wish of mine, but by his 
 own excited, fanatic imagination. Do not
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 125 
 
 let us speak of him or of any such fantastic 
 fools ; other matters press upon our atten- 
 tion. Do not slight the opportunity, the 
 moment that lies before you. Be bold. 
 You will find the Countess in the private 
 garden. Do not fear to be interrupted by 
 the Count. I have taken care of him.' 
 
 ' Wretch ! ' cried la Valliere ; ' who ! 
 what are you ! that you should - ? ' 
 
 He spoke to the void air. With a faint, 
 mocking smile the figure before him was 
 gone. 
 
 In the avenue that led up to the 
 chateau and in the straight walks of the 
 open garden that lay on either side, with 
 statues and long narrow canals of water 
 upon which swans were floating, several 
 people were walking, most of them, as la
 
 126 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 Valliere knew, notables and persons of 
 distinction in the city. They had come 
 out to attend the levte of the Count, but 
 he had not yet left his room, and the 
 answers of the servants were vague and 
 evasive. Several of these persons were 
 known to la Valliere, and spoke to him ; 
 among them was the little Viscount. 
 
 'Ah, Monsieur la Valliere,' he "said, as 
 he came running up, his thin, elderly face 
 wreathed with smiles, ' I see that you have 
 followed my advice. You are a fortunate 
 man. With that shape, that inimitable 
 tounmre, what may you not hope for ? ' 
 
 And he gazed with unfeigned admiration 
 and envy at the handsome young actor. 
 
 ' Have you seen Monsieur le Maire 
 Carre ? ' he went on 'I beg his pardon,
 
 vn THE COUNTESS EVE 127 
 
 Monsieur Carre de Bois-Faucon and con- 
 gratulated him on his nobility ? ' 
 
 ' Is he noble ? ' said la Valliere, in- 
 differently. 
 
 ' Oh, surely. He has purchased the 
 office of Greyhounds of the King's Cham- 
 ber, which gives nobility. His family dates 
 their nobility since exactly nine days. It is 
 perfectly correct. I have seen the receipt.' 
 
 La Valliere wished to shake him off, 
 but the little Viscount stuck to him. 
 
 ' He will not, however, be able to join 
 in the assembly of the confraternity of 
 nobles which will take place in a few 
 days,' he said. ' None can do that who 
 cannot prove four quarterings. Your 
 friend de Brie might. He is noble of 
 far more than that. The de Bries of
 
 128 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 Bois-Garou in Poitou, you know wood- 
 wolves they were, doubtless, in the old 
 lawless days.' 
 
 La Valliere managed to escape from 
 him after this, some other more important 
 or responsive person attracting his atten- 
 tion. La Valliere spoke to the freshly- 
 ennobled mayor, and to one or two other 
 of the notables. There was a rumour 
 current among them that the Count had 
 left the chateau on some sudden and 
 mysterious business. 
 
 At last the ancient major-domo ap- 
 peared, and confirmed this report. ' The 
 Count,' he said, 'had been suddenly called 
 away to his lands at the Pic - Adam. 
 Would les messieurs partake of dejeuner 
 before returning to the city ? '
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 129 
 
 ' Les messieurs ' would partake of <//- 
 jeuncr, and were marshalled into a din- 
 ing-room on the ground floor of the 
 chateau, facing the avenue and the public 
 walks. La Valliere seized the opportunity 
 and spoke to one of the pages. He in 
 turn fetched a maid-servant, who, inspired 
 by a bribe, spoke to the head woman of 
 the Countess, who condescended to take 
 his name to her mistress. In a few 
 moments an answer was returned. 
 
 ' Madame la Comtesse would see Mon- 
 sieur in the privy garden.' 
 
 The chateau was built in the taste of 
 the latter part of the reign of Louis 
 Quatorze, with sash doors and windows, 
 at intervals in the facade, towards the 
 
 private garden, opening on to a terrace 
 K
 
 I 3 o THE COUNTESS EVE Vii 
 
 walk. The windows and doors were 
 ornamented with carved stonework, pro- 
 fusely enriched with wreaths of flowers 
 and grotesque masques and grinning satyr 
 faces. 
 
 As, following the page, la Valliere 
 passed through Several rooms, the air 
 seemed laden with an enervating perfume 
 and sultriness, as of a past luxury that 
 lingered in its ancient haunts ; outside, he 
 had left a mocking frivolousness, perhaps, 
 but a sense of fresh life and action here, 
 in these scented, delicately pencilled, but 
 to some extent faded rooms, he seemed 
 to pass into another world, into an en- 
 chanted palace, a Sans Souci which ex- 
 tended before him wide as limitless desire. 
 ' I have read,' he thought, ' somewhere
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 131 
 
 that " we are seekers after something in 
 the world, which is there in no satisfying 
 measure or not at all." It is not true. 
 The possibilities of existence are infinite. 
 Everything is possible to him who seeks ! ' 
 He passed out on to the long terrace 
 opposite to a flight of steps. Beneath 
 was a small lawn, screened by high yew 
 hedges, and by tall beech trees, cut into 
 regular and massive walls of interlaced 
 boughs. In the centre of the green, thus 
 enclosed from view even from the windows 
 of the chateau, were two fountains, spring- 
 ing from stone sculpture representing boys 
 holding dolphins, and between the fount- 
 ains a solitary tall Arbor Vitae reared its 
 green spire against the blue, spring sky. 
 Beside the Tree of Life, the flickering
 
 132 THE COUNTESS EVE VH 
 
 sunlight through the fountain spray falling 
 upon her, stood the Countess Eve. 
 
 She was dressed in a white morning 
 robe of flowered silk, which clothed the 
 faultless outline of her figure without con- 
 cealing it by any monstrosities of fashion, 
 and a white hat with an egret's plume 
 looped with pearls. She smiled on la 
 Valliere as he approached. 
 
 
 
 The sudden change from the heavy, 
 scent-laden air of the luxurious rooms to 
 the fresh, brilliant sunlight, the grotesque 
 outlines and ornaments of the chambers, 
 the chateau itself, with its architecture of 
 carved faces amid wreaths of flowers, 
 creeping serpents twined with roses and 
 with jessamine, were, as it seemed, so 
 many impresses and signatures of love.
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 133 
 
 He forgot the injunction, ' Let no man be 
 hasty to taste of the fruit of Paradise 
 before his time.' Whispering spirits, 
 speaking to his soul, gave him courage 
 and strength. A mystic veil of soft light, 
 shining across his spirit, like the sunlit 
 spray of the fountains across the Count- 
 ess's figure, seemed to transform this lovely 
 scene into the life of Fairy-land. 
 
 ' I feared to venture into Paradise when 
 at a distance, Madame la Comtesse,' he said. 
 ' Now that I have been so bold, I wonder 
 still more at my temerity. The bright 
 reality, as I feared, appals and dazzles me.' 
 
 She looked at him simply and steadily 
 out of her violet eyes. 
 
 ' I asked you to come,' she said. 
 
 ' There is no entrance into Paradise
 
 I 3 4 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 without love,' thought la Valliere, but he 
 did not utter the words. 
 
 ' I was thinking of you this morning, 
 Monsieur la Valliere,' the Countess went 
 on, still speaking with perfect ease and 
 simplicity, ' and of what you said the other 
 night concerning the actor's life. I was 
 wondering whether to you that which men 
 call real was not altogether unimportant 
 and frivolous, and whether the real to you 
 was only the emotions and desires of the 
 moment, and the characters and thoughts 
 of those with whom you acted for a while ; 
 and I thought what a wonderful life this 
 must be.' 
 
 She stopped and looked inquiringly at 
 la Valliere, who thought he saw clearly 
 what was passing through her mind.
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 135 
 
 ' A wonderful life indeed,' he thought, 
 ' she has glimpses of. Not the cruel, every- 
 day round of dull and commonplace reality, 
 but the boundless choice of circumstance 
 and emotion ! What shall I tell her of such 
 a life?' 
 
 It may seem an improbable thing, but,- 
 though this was la Valliere's first and eager 
 thought, he was not able at once to express 
 it. At this most inopportune moment the 
 recollection of his friend de Brie, of what 
 his theory of life was and would have been, 
 forced itself upon his consciousness with 
 an insistence that would not be gainsaid. 
 It was as though de Brie stood by his side 
 nay, forced himself between the Countess 
 and his friend. 
 
 It may have been that his actor's life
 
 I 3 6 THE COUNTESS EVE - vn 
 
 predisposed him to take at once the part of 
 varied and opposing action, or it may have 
 been that the influence of de Brie over his 
 friend was so powerful that in absence 
 even his spirit was by la Valliere's side. 
 
 However this may be, it is a fact that 
 instead of the thought that was in his 
 mind, or the purpose that had brought him 
 thither, he spoke quite opposite words. 
 
 ' My friend de Brie, Madame,' he said, 
 ' would scold us both for entertaining such 
 thoughts. He would preach us an edify- 
 ing sermon on the necessity and certainty 
 
 of facts, and of the duty of abiding by 
 
 -i 
 them, of neglecting the syren calls of the 
 
 feelings and of the passions. I can see 
 his attitude. I can hear his eloquent 
 La Valliere stopped in the midst of the
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 137 
 
 persiflage which his dual nature had at 
 once awakened within him. The recollec- 
 tion of his friend's terror the night before, 
 of his sudden faint and fall, arrested him. 
 He faltered in his speech and turned 
 pale ; then he stopped. 
 
 There was an embarrassed pause. The 
 Countess seemed mystified and annoyed. 
 The gracious smile left her lips, and the 
 light seemed suddenly to fade from garden, 
 alley, arid lawn. 
 
 La Valliere bit his lip in vexation at what 
 seemed to him his inexplicable stupidity. 
 A dark shadow lay upon the path before 
 him, which a moment before had seemed 
 so bright, and, as out of a sudden thunder- 
 cloud, the flash of a wielded sword inter- 
 vened between himself and the Tree of Life.
 
 I 3 8 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 But the shadow passed from the lovely 
 face in another moment ; la Valliere must 
 have impressed the Countess's fancy to 
 an uncommon degree. 
 
 'Your friend de Brie is no doubt a 
 most excellent person,' she said archly, 
 ' but I did not invite him here this morn- 
 ing. I do not know why he should in- 
 trude between us thus.' 
 
 They wandered on, after this, round 
 the grassy verge of the fountains toward a 
 flight of three broad steps, which led 
 between the yew hedges to a long, broad 
 terrace or alley, on a slightly lower level, 
 extending the entire length of the garden. 
 It was laid out in flower-beds of fantastic 
 shapes upon the gravel paths. It was 
 skirted on the upper or northern side by
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 139 
 
 the high beech hedges, but on the southern 
 side it was open to a wide lawn or orchard 
 planted with fruit trees, and bounded on 
 the lower side by the high ivy -grown 
 wall that divided the private garden from 
 the park, the lofty trees of which were 
 seen towering above it. 
 
 The cherry and pear trees were burst- 
 ing into blossom, the apple trees swelling 
 into bud, the lofty trees in the park 
 beyond showing the first faint green of 
 the opening leaf, the bright spring sky 
 stretched overhead. The Countess stood 
 silently, looking over the white blossoms 
 of the fruit trees towards the lofty 
 branches of the park, through which 
 might be seen here and there the white, 
 rocky cliffs of the hills, and even, still
 
 I 4 o THE COUNTESS EVE vii 
 
 more remotely, the faintest outline of the 
 distant snowpeaks. A strange feeling of 
 confident boldness and strength came into 
 la Valliere's heart. 
 
 Never before had it seemed so clear to 
 him, standing in that bright spring morn- 
 ing by the side of this lovely woman, 
 that life real life did not consist in the 
 mere accidents of existence, in the limita- 
 tions with which fact and circumstance 
 had cumbered the path of a man's life, 
 but in the limitless possibilities which his 
 imagination and his genius opened to him 
 on every side. ' Only,' as the whispering 1 , 
 sardonic voice had said, ' only be bold.' 
 
 He was standing by the Countess's 
 side, a step backward behind her, by the 
 border of the grassy orchard.
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 141 
 
 ' You are right,' he said, ' and de Brie 
 is wrong. To love and to enjoy is the 
 whole duty of man. The life which you 
 have glimpses of is the only true existence 
 to rise above the confining limits of fact 
 gnd circumstance to dwell in the light and 
 freedom of an untrammelled intellect, like 
 to like, contrast to contrast, opposite to 
 opposite. In this way life is raised to 
 brilliancy and interest, as with a sparkling 
 draught of sunlit elixir, that gives to all, 
 even to the humblest, the heritage of the 
 gods, and casts out all fear. " Ye shall 
 not surely die." ' 
 
 Did he speak these last words himself, 
 or were they uttered by some unseen pre- 
 sence near him amid the garden walks? 
 $ome such fancy seemed to strike la Val-
 
 142 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 Here, for he turned his head suddenly, but 
 there was no one there. 
 
 The Countess did not seem to hear 
 him. She kept her place, facing the white 
 blossoms and the delicate sky. The flush 
 of spring was in her face and in her eyes ; 
 but she did not speak. 
 
 There seemed, indeed, at this moment 
 to fall upon the Countess and la Valliere 
 one of those palls of silence that suddenly 
 and without apparent cause embarrass us 
 at times. We do not know the reason, 
 we think of it only as an annoying stu- 
 pidity, we blame ourselves. It is possible 
 that we are wrong. It is possible that 
 these sudden lets and hindrances are moni- 
 tions of a higher life. 
 
 In the effluence of the Countess's look,
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 143 
 
 in the serenity and composure of her pose 
 and gesture, there seemed some power to 
 depress la Valliere's exultant spirits. He 
 followed her a step or two behind, in 
 silence. 
 
 Then, as they went on along the ter- 
 race towards the east, among the quaint 
 borders edged with box, and turned down 
 a path that skirted the lower lawn, and 
 followed the high wall of the garden, la 
 Valliere became conscious of the presence 
 of another power ; the air seemed to him 
 full of something that could only be de- 
 scribed as Effort, as supreme exertion of 
 will towards a definite and determined 
 end. He felt a strange certainty that the 
 Abbe was by his side, and that the 
 slightest exertion of his own will would
 
 144 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 cause him to be visible at the instant ; but 
 the presence and personality of the Count- 
 ess absorbed his faculties and rendered 
 such exertion impossible. The two wan- 
 dered on in silence, hardly knowing what 
 they did. 
 
 At the east corner, farthest from the 
 chateau and from the city, the ground 
 beyond the wall sloped suddenly into a 
 small dingle, and this little valley was 
 planted thickly with great trees that came 
 close up to the wall, and even to the 
 chateau itself. Near the corner of the 
 wall, almost hidden by the heavy masses 
 of untrained ivy, was a small postern door. 
 Was it by chance or by some mysterious 
 direction that, as la Valliere approached 
 this door, he noticed it ?
 
 vii THE COUNTESS EVE 145 
 
 'That door,' he said, 'leads, I suppose, 
 into the wood ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose it does,' said the Countess, 
 indifferently. ' It is never used. I believe 
 it was made for the convenience of the 
 Counts, that they might return to the 
 privy garden and to the chateau un- 
 observed. Would you like to have a 
 key?' 
 
 Did she say these words herself? or 
 were they spoken for her by some male- 
 fic power that was lurking near ? She 
 seemed to have some such thought as 
 this, for she started as she said the 
 words and looked round furtively, if 
 such a word might possibly be applied 
 to her. 
 
 They walked round the grassy orchard 
 
 L
 
 I 4 6 THE COUNTESS EVE vn 
 
 and returned to the chateau, where the 
 dejeuner of the Countess awaited them. 
 When, at midday, la Valliere left to return 
 to the city, he took the key of the postern 
 with him.
 
 VIII 
 
 CLAUDE DE BRIE awoke on the morning 
 of this eventful day apparently restored 
 to perfect health, He went to mass at 
 the parish church adjoining the convent, 
 and after mass he had an interview with 
 the Abbess, as the result of which he 
 journeyed out to the chateau for the 
 purpose of seeing" the Count. In this he 
 was unsuccessful ; but being known to the 
 domestics at the chateau, he obtained 
 earlier news of the Count's sudden de- 
 parture than was vouchsafed to the 
 notables of the city. With this news he
 
 148 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 returned to the Abbess, who manifested 
 great perturbation on hearing it. 
 
 'He is driven by the devil into the 
 wilderness/ she said ; ' and in his despair 
 there will be none to help him. Satan 
 shall stand at his right hand. " Et dia- 
 bolus stet a dextris ejus." 
 
 The rule of the Abbess was not strict ; 
 she allowed the nuns to visit as they 
 wished in the city and neighbourhood, but 
 she herself never visited any on mere 
 terms of civility or the customs of society. 
 She spent her time, when not engaged 
 in the management of her household, in 
 visiting the poor in the city, or in such 
 villages or farmhouses as she was by any 
 means acquainted with. In this way it 
 was not strange to her to take a sudden
 
 viu THE COUNTESS EVE 149 
 
 journey on emergency. As she spoke 
 to de Brie, even, such a message was 
 brought to her from a neighbouring 
 village. 
 
 ' Ah,' she said, ' poor child ! she is very 
 lovely ; she is the daughter of Monsieur 
 de Gesril. They are noble and live on 
 their own lands, but are very poor, and 
 the only sign of nobility is the colombier 
 at the farm ; but I cannot think of her 
 now. I must go to him ; I have delayed 
 too Ion of.' 
 
 O 
 
 ' I am at your service in all things, 
 my mother,' said de Brie ; ' only command 
 me." 
 
 'There are some people good people 
 in their way,' said the Abbess, 'who have 
 an utterly unsubdued nature, which they
 
 ISO THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 call God. May He grant that I have 
 not been such a one ! I have dreaded 
 the pain of revealing myself to him. I 
 have taken my own course and made my 
 own fate. May God in His infinite pity 
 have mercy upon me ! ' 
 
 ' That,' said de Brie, below his breath, 
 'is the very prayer I heard the Count 
 utter, as he thought of the moment when 
 he might see you.' 
 
 ' Our lives are interwoven in such mys- 
 terious sort,' said the Abbess, ' that we 
 cannot always distinguish what the will 
 of God is. I have heard of your mother's 
 story. She was a child at a convent 
 school. In this convent the Jansenist 
 heresy obtained considerable sway. One 
 of the nuns, who had great influence with
 
 vni THE COUNTESS EVE 151 
 
 this child, refused, among others, to 
 submit to the ruling of the visiting 
 Superior, and finally, with several more, 
 broke her vow and left the convent. 
 Your mother, who was completely under 
 her influence, was about to follow her, 
 when at this juncture your father appeared, 
 married her, and carried her off. All this 
 you know as well as I ; but now, listen. 
 This old nun, the other day, ninety years 
 of age, being ill at ease, and for long 
 desirous to return to her vocation, came 
 back to us ! Who can say where the 
 hand of God is ? I, like this old nun, 
 chose my own path, hence this terrible 
 growth of sin. Wherever there is sin 
 committed, then sin is born into the 
 world is born, but does not die. Where
 
 152 THE COUNTESS EVE .vin 
 
 it wanders to, what work of evil is done 
 by it, none can tell. Driven to despair 
 by remorse, Satan standing at his right 
 hand, what may he not do ? He who was 
 so gentle and so sweet-natured ? Will 
 you go with me to his aid, Monsieur de 
 Brie ?' 
 
 ' Ma mere? said de Brie, ' it seems to 
 me that God is more gracious to us than 
 we think. My mother, who, as you say, 
 left her convent partly through her ( esy and 
 partly, through love, was discarded by all 
 her relations, by all her husband's relations 
 and friends. She seemed, discarded by 
 God Himself. Her husband became a 
 common player and musician. But she 
 had contracted, in her convent, in spite of 
 heresy and in spite of. love, a deep feeling
 
 VIM THE COUNTESS EVE 153 
 
 of religion and of absolute resignation to 
 the will of God, which sustained her in life 
 and supported her in death. She died 
 happy. I, who am her. son, owe every- 
 thing that I have of happiness to her. I 
 will go with you where you will.' 
 
 The Abbess looked at de Brie for some 
 moments in silence. There could be no 
 doubt that he was a happy man. His dis- 
 position was singularly sweet arid placid, 
 and he escaped, by an instinctive recoil, 
 everything that was coarse, cruel, or un- 
 pleasant. His religion consisted in follow"- 
 ing the good and the beautiful, and he 
 avoided intuitively the disquieting ami 
 difficult aspects both of life and thought. 
 The existence of beauty was to him a safe- 
 guard and. an asylum from all the attacks
 
 154 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 of Satan and of doubt. It led him to a 
 Father in Heaven. To him the long 
 range of white summits were indeed the 
 heavenly Beulah. Every lovely chord, or 
 sunset, or mountain rill, or rocky valley, 
 assured him of a higher life ; and safe in 
 this fairyland, he could defy the distracting 
 sights of evil or the insinuating whispers of 
 doubt. 
 
 The impatience of the Abbess admitted 
 of no delay. At her urgent request de 
 Brie obtained a chaise de poste y and they 
 left the city that same afternoon, only a 
 few minutes, indeed, after la Valliere had 
 returned on foot from the chateau. The 
 Abbess was accompanied by an elderly 
 nun, in whom she placed confidence, and 
 who was much attached to her. De Brie
 
 via THE COUNTESS EVE 155 
 
 and a servant followed the chaise on horse- 
 back. 
 
 They traversed the undulating plains, 
 rich with woods and vineyards, that lay 
 between the city and the hills. They slept 
 at a little town at the foot of the mount- 
 ains, in a romantic valley with a mountain 
 torrent and lake, and mill-wheels that made 
 a gentle, soothing murmur, and early in 
 the morning dragged their way slowly up 
 the long, steep road, beneath the lofty 
 white rocks and the pine forests of the Jura 
 range. 
 
 Snow still covered the tops of the hills, 
 which were partially concealed by wreaths 
 of delicate white vapour, drawn out and con- 
 torted into fantastic and fleeting shapes, 
 through which the sharp outlines and
 
 156 THE COUNTESS EVE 'vm 
 
 weird forms of the pine forests were in- 
 distinctly traced. Every few moments a 
 rift in the seething mist revealed a delicate 
 blue sky, and sudden bursts of sunshine 
 lighted the fresh green of the sycamore 
 and chestnut and beech woods. A sud- 
 den light, climbing the steep hillsides, 
 revealed, now and again, the verdant pas- 
 tures, and the delicate shimmer of spring 
 flowers on the grassy slopes and in the 
 fissures of the rocks. 
 
 Near the summit of the hills they 
 reached a churchyard, when, alighting and 
 looking back, they saw the mountain lake 
 and the winding valleys which they had 
 passed. Then through a gorge of pine- 
 clad hills they reached Saint Cergne, and 
 then, immediately afterwards, without a
 
 vm THE COUNTESS EVE 157 
 
 moment's warning, the road reaches the 
 verge of the precipice, and the wall of the 
 Jura opens right and left, and the finest 
 view in the world bursts upon the traveller's 
 gaze. 
 
 The writings of Rousseau had made 
 the love of the picturesque in mountain 
 scenery fashionable, but both the Abbess 
 and de Brie would have paused before 
 such a sight had Rousseau lived or not. 
 The Abbess alighted from the chaise de 
 poste, and de Brie dismounted and stood 
 by her side. 
 
 At the distance of some eight miles, em- 
 bossed upon a plain of verdure, of woodland, 
 and of vineyard, there lay, or rather hovered 
 before the sight, so delicate and shaded 
 and ideal was the vision, the apparition,
 
 158 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 as it might seem, of a celestial lake. Of 
 a colour deeper than that of the most 
 fathomless sky, its margin indistinct with 
 snow-white reflection, like the hovering of 
 shadowy wings, it seemed, from where they 
 stood, to rise above the earth as a pathway 
 and pavement of that city whose founda- 
 tions are sapphire ; and above this marvel- 
 lous and glorious sight there rose another 
 more glorious and wonderful still, for above 
 the pavement of this mystic sea rose into 
 the sky, pure in a whiteness hitherto un- 
 conceived, distinct against the delicate 
 morning light, piled in stupendous fashion, 
 etched in lines of marvellous witchery 
 and glamour, in pointed peak and giant 
 strength, the stainless region of the snow.
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 159 
 
 The Abbess and de Brie stood 'some 
 minutes in silence ; but the heart of the 
 Abbess was too full of one absorbing 
 subject to permit of its being long dis- 
 tracted towards any other. She pointed 
 out to de Brie, in the far distance to- 
 wards the south, a peak of snow standing 
 somewhat apart, white and phantom-like 
 in the air. 
 
 ' That is the Pic-Adam,' she said. 'We 
 must skirt the mountains by Chambery. 
 The passes before us are closed at this 
 time of the year, but by Chambery we can 
 reach the Pic by a lower pass. It will be 
 a long journey. Pray God we do hot 
 come too late ! ' 
 
 On the evening of the third day the
 
 160 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 chaise de poste, toiling slowly up the pass 
 from Chambery, reached the Chateau du 
 Pic- Adam. It stood, with its dark massive 
 masonry and projecting Gothic towers and 
 upper windows, its pinnacles and lofty slop- 
 ing roofs, surrounded by thick groves of 
 oak and chestnut on the hillsides ; and 
 above it, high above the neighbouring pine- 
 woods, rose the narrow snowpeak, the 
 western sun shining full upon it. Over the 
 chateau and below the peak, partly upon a 
 low rain-cloud and partly upon the dark 
 pinewood, a rainbow crossed the mountain 
 slope. 
 
 ' That is a good omen,' said de Brie, 
 riding up close to the door of the chaise. 
 'We shall not be too late.' 
 
 The tired horses dragged the chaise
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 161 
 
 slowly up on to the broad terrace of the 
 chateau, which was planted along the edge 
 with a straight row of sycamore trees. 
 From the farther end de Brie could see 
 the peak, from which all trace of sunset 
 had faded, and below it, at some distance 
 from the terrace, the fatal lake. The rain- 
 bow was gone. 
 
 The solemn bell of the chateau sounded 
 long and drearily in the deepening gloom 
 before there was any response. 
 
 At last an old servant, accompanied by 
 a youth in an old and worn livery, appeared, 
 and jealously inspected the visitors through 
 the partly open door. 
 
 The appearance and manner of de Brie 
 succeeded in partly reassuring the old man, 
 
 and he ventured forth as far as the chaise 
 M
 
 162 THE COUNTESS EVE vin 
 
 door, where the Abbess spoke to him for a 
 few minutes in a low voice. 
 
 'La mere Abbesse] he said, 'might cer- 
 tainly enter with her attendants.' He 
 seemed dazed and confounded. 
 
 The last faint glow of evening light 
 shone upon the great hall as they entered. 
 It was an immense apartment, longer than 
 it was broad, with a comparatively low 
 ceiling, crossed by gigantic beams of oak, 
 and running through the entire depth of 
 the house. On the right hand was an 
 enormous, carved, stone fireplace, of greater 
 length than height, and opposite to it a 
 collection of armour of all ages and descrip- 
 tions, both arranged upon the wall and 
 standing in front of it in entire suits. At 
 the back of the hall were two flights of
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 163 
 
 steps and a low square window full of dark- 
 stained glass, with armorial bearings in the 
 small panes. 
 
 Monsieur le Comte had been there, 
 said the old servant, since three days. He 
 believed that he was then in his room, but 
 he would inquire of his servant. 
 
 The young footman produced two 
 candles in lofty candlesticks and lighted 
 the Abbess and de Brie up the wide strag- 
 gling stairs. The wind moaned dismally 
 through the doors and windows and down 
 the pannelled walls, and caused the candles 
 to flicker and burn dimly. De Erie's 
 spirits sank amid the gloom. 
 
 ' This house,' said the Abbess, ' seems to 
 you, I do not doubt, silent, empty and 
 deserted, but it is far otherwise with me.
 
 164 THE COUNTESS EVE vin 
 
 To me it seems full of restless footsteps. 
 I see these rooms and stairs full of ser- 
 vants and dependants, and of guests. I 
 hear the talk and jests and laughter ; I hear 
 Madame's voice. The air is full of voices 
 and of echoing footsteps. Those who have 
 lived and worked, and thronged the cham- 
 bers of old -houses where are they ? 
 Where are the absent and the dead ? 
 Surely they are not far from us in such a 
 house as this is ? ' 
 
 She walked straight on as if through 
 her own house. The staircase led to a 
 long gallery which stretched away on 
 either hand far beyond the distance to 
 which the faint light of the two candles 
 extended. It appeared to be lined, as 
 was the staircase, with dim and faded
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 165 
 
 portraits, and here and there with cabinets 
 and embroidered chairs, all equally ancient 
 and out of fashion. 
 
 The Abbess crossed the gallery, opened 
 a door, and entered a great saloon ap- 
 parently over the hall, and the young 
 servant followed her submissively. 
 
 The salle was furnished much in the 
 same fashion as the rest of the house. If 
 there had ever been in it anything modern 
 or elegant, it had long since been removed. 
 Everything wore that look of oneness, that 
 sameness of tint, that attaches itself to furni- 
 ture which has been long in the same place. 
 
 The Abbess crossed the salle and 
 opened a door on the further side. By 
 this door, where a picture had formerly 
 hung, there was a blank space.
 
 166 THE COUNTESS EVE vni 
 
 ' She used to be there,' said the Abbess. 
 ' The Count has the picture at the 
 chateau.' 
 
 They went through several smaller 
 rooms, all furnished in the same way, all 
 bearing the same marks of desertion and 
 emptiness. Finally they reached a door, 
 which seemed to end the suite. Here the 
 Abbess paused for a moment with her hand 
 upon the lock. Then she opened the door 
 and went in. 
 
 The room had a more modern appear- 
 ance than any that they had yet seen. It was 
 a bedroom of considerable size, furnished 
 in the taste of the Louis Quatorze period 
 of thirty years before. The embroidered 
 bed-hangings, the marqueterie wardrobes, 
 the garniture de toilette and little tables,
 
 viii THE COUNTESS EVE 167 
 
 were undisturbed left exactly as their 
 mistress had left them years ago. The 
 room was carefully kept, and some repairs 
 had been made where the hangings and 
 covers had become worn and rotten with 
 age. 
 
 ' This was Madame's room,' the Abbess 
 said ; but de Brie had known it already. 
 
 In this room, as in every room of the 
 house, was the sense of unseen presences 
 of the absent and of the dead, of a people 
 and of owners who had passed away, and 
 to whom everything still belonged. It 
 seemed incredible that any should dare to 
 alter or to touch. All such meddling 
 would seem intrusion and wrong wrong 
 to the past and to the dead. 
 
 The Abbess crossed the room and stood
 
 168 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 before a large wardrobe of rich marque- 
 terie, the upper part opening with doors, 
 the lower consisting of drawers. One of 
 these the upper one the Abbess opened. 
 
 ' Here,' she said, as she drew it out, 
 ' she kept her own jewels, her most cher- 
 ished -' with a sharp cry she sank upon 
 her knees, and covering her face with her 
 hands, burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 In the drawer, carefully folded and 
 preserved as with the hand of love, strewn 
 with the withered remnants of what had 
 once been sweet - smelling flowers and 
 herbs, with here and there a girl's orna- 
 ment and jewel, were the dresses of a 
 young girl of the passed fashion of perhaps 
 some twenty years.
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 169 
 
 In a few moments the steps of the old 
 major-domo were heard. The Abbess 
 rose from her knees and recovered her 
 self-possession. 
 
 ' Monsieur le Comte's servant informed 
 him,' the old man said, ' that his master had 
 retired to his room, and had dismissed him 
 with orders that he was not to be disturbed 
 until a certain hour in the morning. He 
 dared not disobey his orders. If la Mere 
 Abbesse and monsieur would partake of 
 some supper, such refreshment as the 
 house afforded was at their service. In 
 the morning the Count's will could be 
 ascertained.' 
 
 There was no alternative but to submit 
 to the delay.
 
 i;o THE COUNTESS EVE vin 
 
 A lovely morning, foretold by the rain- 
 bow which had attracted de Erie's regard 
 
 O 
 
 the evening before, dawned upon the 
 chateau, the valley, and the peak. Before 
 his servants were awake, the Count rose and 
 wandered out through the terraced garden 
 and the fresh green woods towards the 
 margin of the lake, whose dark waters had 
 so terrible an attraction to him. Twenty 
 years ago, on a wild tumultuous morning, 
 he had stood almost on the same spot, his 
 mind distracted with remorse and despair. 
 Since then there had been seasons, long 
 seasons, when the terror and the despair, and 
 even the past itself had been almost, if not 
 quite, forgotten ; but beneath all the asso- 
 ciations and the preoccupations, the dis- 
 tinctions and the successes of his life, had
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 171 
 
 lurked a germ of conscious memory and 
 of remorse. Whether aroused by return 
 to scenes of his boyhood, or by the 
 presence of his lovely wife, the remem- 
 brance of this other girl none less lovely 
 the companion of his boyhood, the love 
 and fancy of his youth, dogged his steps 
 from day to day. Fanned, as it would 
 seem, for their own malefic purpose, by 
 the spirits that track the footsteps of the 
 sinner, the remembrance became to him 
 in itself a sin. By a terrible action and 
 reaction, committed sin had become not 
 only exceeding sinful, but a diabolic witch- 
 circle without exit and without end. 
 
 Yet, though he stood on that lovely 
 morning by the grassy margin of the lake, 
 himself as remorseful and despairing as
 
 172 THE COUNTESS EVE vin 
 
 when he had stood there twenty years 
 before, how changed otherwise was the 
 scene ! Then, on the stormy autumn 
 morning, the great sere and withered 
 leaves, swept and driven through the air 
 and along the earth, hurled and contorted 
 into fantastic shapes and measures like 
 the witch - dances of a Walpurgis night ; 
 then, the gigantic branches of the forest 
 trees, .torn and riven and hurled and 
 strewn upon pathway and rock and green 
 sward ; then, the roar and wail as of the 
 storm - fiend through mountain pass and 
 pine wood ; then, the storm-clouds hunted 
 and driven across the affrighted sky. 
 Now, along the margin of the lake, upon 
 the green, fresh - springing turf, hyacinth 
 and crocus and anemone, countless in
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 173 
 
 number, spread out a carpet fit for the 
 dancing of the summer hours ; now, the 
 laughing waters of the lake, just stirred 
 by the morning breeze, flashed with opal 
 tints of blue, and gold beneath the newly 
 risen sun, and above, over the gay, rustling 
 wood, loud with the singing of birds, the 
 Pic - Adam, cold, clear, steadfast, in the 
 sky. 
 
 The Count was standing, his hands 
 crossed behind his back, his head bent 
 forward upon his chest, as nearly as he 
 or any man might be able to judge, pre- 
 cisely on the spot where, twenty sad years 
 before, a girl's hat and scarf had been 
 found soiled and torn upon the rotted 
 turf. 
 
 A slight noise caused the Count to turn
 
 174 THE COUNTESS EVE vm 
 
 suddenly and sharply round, and he saw 
 de Brie, whom he remembered with in- 
 distinctness. He instinctively laid his 
 hand upon his sword. De Brie was 
 standing hesitatingly upon the flowery 
 grass. He was very pale, and his manner 
 was embarrassed and almost timid. The 
 Count looked at him with wonder and 
 even alarm. 
 
 ' Pardon me, Monsieur le Comte du 
 Pic-Adam,' said the young man at last, 
 ' that I intrude upon your seclusion. I 
 have a message, I may say, from the 
 grave. ' 
 
 He spoke slowly as if to gain time. 
 He was indeed overpowered by a sense 
 of nervousness, and scarcely knew what 
 he said. Even with his knowledge of the
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 175 
 
 past of what the past day, the past hour 
 had brought a strange sense of mystery 
 and uncertainty haunted him. What 
 was about to happen he could not tell. 
 Nothing that might happen would seem 
 strange. 
 
 The Count looked at him very steadily, 
 but he did not take his hand from his 
 sword. 
 
 ' Monsieur le Comte,' de Brie went on, 
 still speaking very slowly, 'we are not 
 alone. We are never alone ; we are 
 surrounded by the living and the dead, 
 here with us one moment and then gone 
 for ever ; and not only by such but by 
 those others who never die. Do you 
 believe this ? ' 
 
 The supreme distinction of face and
 
 176 THE COUNTESS EVE vni 
 
 gesture, the tone of his voice, were so 
 perfectly noble and innocent of evil, that 
 all trace of suspicion and doubt vanished 
 from the Count's look. He took his hand 
 from his sword. 
 
 ' I believe it/ he said ; ' no one has 
 reason to know it better than I.' 
 
 ' " She must be ever near me, ever near 
 me, and yet I never see her," ' de Brie 
 went on. ' Monsieur le Comte, do you 
 remember using these words ? ' 
 
 'When I see her!' exclaimed the 
 Count; 'when I see her!' In his eyes 
 the dazzling lake, the waving woodland, 
 the green sward covered with flowers, 
 seemed only a fitting stage for this dis- 
 tinguished mysterious stranger, who spoke 
 such penetrating words. He felt almost
 
 vin THE COUNTESS EVE 177 
 
 like those priests of old, who saw, in the 
 ministrations of their course, angels by the 
 altar of the Lord. ' When I see her ! 
 May God in His infinite pity have mercy 
 on me when I do ! ' 
 
 As he said these words, de Brie saw 
 a strange light come into his eyes, as he 
 stood with his back to the lake, facing 
 de Brie and the chateau, whence the 
 young man had come. De Brie turned 
 suddenly, and the Count's surprise was, 
 perhaps, hardly greater than his own. 
 
 Within the shadow of the wood, where 
 the grassy verge began to drop towards 
 the lake, stood a figure more like an angel 
 of God than falls to the lot of most men, 
 in their course through life, ever to see. 
 
 The white lining of the Abbess's dress 
 
 N
 
 178 THE COUNTESS EVE vin 
 
 was thrown back, and hung like folded 
 wings on either side of her slight, noble 
 figure, clothed in what seemed the rich 
 dress of a young girl of a past age ; on her 
 breast an antique gem flashed in the morn- 
 ing light. Her closely-cut hair, released 
 from all covering, seemed to surround her 
 head with a halo of glory, shot through by 
 the sun. De Brie gazed upon her with 
 wonder and with awe. The Count sank 
 upon his knees. 
 
 ' Auguste,' she said, and the lingering 
 air seemed to caress and to prolong the 
 sound ; ' Auguste, I am here. I have 
 never seen you since that night, but I am 
 here. God in His unspeakable pity has 
 had mercy upon us, and has utterly abo- 
 lished the whole body of Sin.'
 
 IX 
 
 THE key which the Countess Eve had 
 given to la Valliere made the entrance into 
 Paradise very easy to him. He came day 
 after day, at the same hour in the morning, 
 to the postern door in the wood. He 
 hired a horse, upon which he made a 
 circuit of a few miles every morning, and 
 leaving his horse at a farm and game- 
 keeper's house in the little valley, he made 
 his way to the private door through the 
 wooded paths. Every day the spring sun- 
 shine seemed brighter, and every day the 
 sky above him seemed more blue. Every
 
 i8o THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 day the budding leaves grew greener, and 
 the fruit blossom more white and dazzling 
 against the blue sky. The rich moulding 
 of masques and flowers and fruit that 
 shone out amid the trellised trees in the 
 renaissance work of the chateau seemed 
 to glow with welcome in the warmth of 
 their mellow, moss-tinted colouring, and 
 morning after morning, beneath the fount- 
 ains and the Tree of Life, without fail to 
 receive him, stood the Countess Eve. 
 
 ' It is good of you to come,' she said ; 
 ' you are the truest of friends, for you are 
 never late.' 
 
 Do you wish me to tell you what they 
 said ? Do you ask me what the rushing 
 brooklet is saying when the tiny waves 
 ripple and sparkle in the light ? Do you
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 181 
 
 think that I can crystallise the warmth and 
 the glow and the sunlight, the flush of 
 youth and the fresh breeze of life and of 
 the spring ? - the bounding spirits, the 
 health and vigour of the warm life within 
 the bud ? Were I able, by some, magic 
 science, to trace in sound to your ears 
 every syllable that fell from their lips, 
 would you be aught the wiser ? Would 
 you be nearer, if you have it not without, 
 to a perception of what these two felt and 
 enjoyed ? Was the talk so brilliant, do 
 you suppose ? Was it couched in the anti- 
 thesis and epigram that look so clever in 
 print ? In the Paradise to which you look 
 back with a fond remembrance, was your 
 talk so brilliant ? Would it have stood 
 the ordeal that demands such sparkling
 
 182 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 dialogue in the novels of the day ? and, 
 if not, why should you demand it of la 
 Valliere and the Countess Eve ? 
 
 But there was, it must be owned, some- 
 thing in the nature of things which, though 
 untranslatable into English talk, yet should 
 not be altogether forgotten. In the spark- 
 ling, clear air, untainted by the foulness of 
 smoke, or impurity of stagnant mist, a 
 sparkling freshness peculiar to France, 
 in the ravishing connection of blue sky 
 and white blossom, and the delicate green 
 tracery of spray of bursting leaf, with the 
 yellow, moss -tinged, carved work of the 
 Chateau, with grinning satyr heads and 
 friezes of wild, dancing figures turned to 
 stone, was something so germain to the 
 light, sparkling nature of the old French
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 183 
 
 world so truly, at the same time, the 
 author and the offspring of it that it is 
 not given, without an effort, to the 
 northern, slumberous imagination to see 
 these things as they really were, to under- 
 stand either the scene or the people of 
 these places, or of these reckless, brilliant 
 hours. 
 
 To la Valliere, indeed, it seemed as 
 though he were translated into an ethereal 
 region, left alone to be driven hither and 
 
 O ' 
 
 thither by his own unbridled will and 
 desire. De Brie seemed to have deserted 
 him, vanished unaccountably from the 
 scene at the very moment when his dis- 
 tinct personality and powerful influence 
 over his friend might have been thought 
 most needed. All help seemed to be
 
 184 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 denied to him. The ways and effects of 
 evil of committed sin are too varied to 
 be foreseen or guarded against. 
 
 The fifth day after de Brie had so mys- 
 teriously disappeared was a Sunday, and la 
 Valliere did not take his accustomed ride 
 that morning. He had some reason to 
 expect that the Countess would attend 
 High Mass at the cathedral of the city 
 at any rate he strolled into that service 
 in the middle of the morning. 
 
 The cathedral was full of worshippers 
 when la Valliere entered it. He had 
 come in from idleness and curiosity more 
 than from any other motive, and wandered 
 round the outskirts of the congregation by 
 the great western door. He entertained
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 185 
 
 himself by observing the demeanour and 
 differing classes of the worshippers. They 
 were of both sexes and of all ages, and of 
 that class which, in Catholic countries, 
 hovers on the borders of the Church, not 
 exactly wishing to break with it, but in 
 no way submitting to its rule. It con- 
 sisted for the most part of men, some of 
 whom were young men, and a few women 
 of the lowest class ; their more decent sisters 
 were higher up in the vast nave. 
 
 A vista of pillars of immense size and 
 towering height, carved and ornamented 
 at the top to the depth of many feet, struck 
 la Valliere's gaze as he entered. Beyond, 
 far beyond, high in the misty, distant roof, 
 a gigantic crucifix crowned, with a vague, 
 mysterious awe, a screen of wonderfully
 
 i86 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 elaborate stonework, relieved by tier above 
 tier of the dark mahogany of pulpit stair 
 and gallery and pinnacle, and of the 
 carved fretwork of the stalls. Beyond, 
 still beyond, rapt away from human touch 
 or intrusion as it seemed, at least to these 
 distant loiterers, remote from human sense, 
 a region of transcendental mystery and 
 glory, from which, partly hidden by cloud- 
 wreaths of incense and by the guardian 
 screens, and even by the crucifix, was 
 dimly present to the sense and feeling 
 the unspeakable awe of white altar and 
 pix and sacrament. 
 
 La Valliere found himself standing by a 
 young man of more intelligent and refined 
 aspect than most of those about him, 
 evidently a workman in some delicate art.
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 187 
 
 He was looking round upon the people, 
 most of whom were kneeling, with an 
 expression of contempt. 
 
 ' What brings all these people here ? ' 
 he said aloud, but possibly only to himself. 
 
 ' What brings them here ? ' said la 
 Valliere. ' What brings you here ? ' 
 
 ' The music partly,' said the young man, 
 not so much to la Valliere as in answer to 
 some thought of his own ; ' then hunger, 
 and because I have nothing else to do.' 
 
 La Valliere gazed at him curiously, but 
 before he could answer there was a sudden 
 hush in the wave of sound, and an intenser 
 sense of awe and worship swept over the 
 kneeling crowd and reached even to the 
 outcasts and mockers and indifferent that 
 had wandered within the limits of the
 
 i88 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 sacred fold, round the precincts of the 
 western door. Far away, surrounded and 
 guarded by hierarchies and priests and 
 reverent worshippers, the Ineffable Pres- 
 ence was revealed ; but amid the hushed 
 stillness there fell upon the ear the passing 
 of gentle footsteps, as two priests, followed 
 by serving brothers carrying baskets of 
 loaves, distributed, to whosoever would 
 receive them, pieces of consecrated bread, 
 remembering, surely, One who, amid a 
 desert wild of Galilee, had compassion on 
 the multitude, ' because they had come 
 from far, and had nothing to eat.' 
 
 ' Will you take it ? ' said the young man 
 to la Valliere, with a still more bitter sneer. 
 'It is not for food. It is an obsolete, 
 superstitious charm doubtless of great
 
 IX THE COUNTESS EVE 189 
 
 virtue, but to enjoy it you must kneel to a 
 priest ! ' 
 
 La Valliere looked at him again. 
 There was a bitter, desperate look in the 
 young man's eyes that he did not like. La 
 Valliere was not the man to involve him- 
 self in any trouble or inconvenience that 
 might be avoided by a prudent indifference. 
 He turned and left the cathedral. He did 
 not take the sacred bread. 
 
 As he came out into the then hushed 
 and quiet market-place, soon, as the day 
 drew on, to be the scene of gaiety and 
 noise, the devil entered into la Valliere, 
 as surely as he entered into Judas Iscariot, 
 though he himself was perhaps unconscious 
 of it, and no outward sign revealed the fact.
 
 igo THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 In the city market-place and through 
 the empty streets, as often in the pathways 
 of the sunny wood, stealthy footsteps 
 seemed to echo and to keep pace with his 
 own ; the bland, suggestive voice which by 
 this time he knew so well, whispered, 
 ' You have attained to so much, surely you 
 are not satisfied. Only be bold ! Nothing 
 is possible to those who fear impossible 
 to the courageous and the bold.' 
 
 And, indeed, la Valliere was stifled 
 and constrained within the solemn, stately 
 walks and shaded alleys of this decorous, 
 princely garden a type, as it might well 
 be thought, of what reserved and virtuous 
 life might seem to him to be. The very 
 beauty of such a life oppressed him. It 
 was to him as though the very dust and
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 191 
 
 stain of daily, reckless life, with all the 
 sorrow and the soil which such a life 
 may bring will surely bring was to be 
 chosen before such a decorous, decent life 
 as this, surrounded and protected as it was 
 by this stateliness, this beauty and refine- 
 ment the loveliness of the Countess even 
 seemed to lose something of its charm. 
 She was still above him and out of his 
 sphere. A wild, degraded, selfish desire 
 took possession of him, a passionate long- 
 ing to see her elsewhere, in common, vulgar 
 life, amid sordid and tawdry surroundings, 
 and people far beneath her, of whose ex- 
 istence she had hitherto perhaps scarcely 
 dreamed ; to bring her down to his level, 
 nay, beneath it ; to possess her with the 
 friendly familiarity which such a life allows.
 
 192 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 The adventures and scenes in which, 
 night after night, he took his part upon 
 the stage, suggested to him incidents and 
 embarrassing situations without number. 
 He fancied this lovely, stately creature 
 involved in such situations and scenes. 
 His imagination revelled in them with an 
 ever-increasing zest. In every such scene 
 his own lower nature played a principal 
 part, found a sensual and an unclean grati- 
 fication. Satan stood at his right hand. 
 
 The next morning he was standing, as 
 usual, by the Countess's side, in Paradise, 
 in the centre of the long alley, fronting the 
 white flowering blossoms and the green 
 ranges of the wood. 
 
 ' Your life is crippled and confined,' he
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 193 
 
 said suddenly, ' with all this pomp and 
 solemn decorum. You do not know what 
 life is ; how bright and cheerful, and full 
 of zest and interest and humour and fun. 
 You have no perception of the contrast 
 that gives pleasure to the free, gay, reck- 
 less life of shine and shade, of storm and 
 calm, of hunger and feasting, of quarrel- 
 lings and makings-up. For myself, this 
 life would suffocate me. Could you taste, 
 but for an hour, the other life, you would 
 never return to this.' 
 
 Why did the light seem to fade from 
 glade and garden alley in the Countess's 
 eyes as she looked up the stately walk on 
 either hand ? 
 
 ' I shall go into the city this afternoon,' 
 
 she said in a soft tone ; ' it is very stupid, 
 o
 
 I 9 4 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 but it seems to me that I see life. I shall go 
 to a fete chez Monsieur le Maire. There 
 will be dancing on the trellised lawns, and 
 music. Then I shall go to the vesper 
 service. Every one is there, and there 
 is much talk, but it is always the same 
 the same badinage, the same jokes, that 
 stupid little Vicomte with his spiteful 
 stories. It is very dull,' and the Countess 
 sighed 'but surely I see life.' 
 
 La Valliere smiled the sort of superior 
 smile of an inferior nature. 
 
 ' That is not the life I speak of, Count- 
 ess,' he said. 'You noble ladies know 
 nothing of life. Did you ever wonder 
 why it was that your nobles your hus- 
 bands and your brothers spend so much 
 of their time away from you ? Did it ever
 
 IX THE COUNTESS EVE 195 
 
 occur to you do you not see that it is 
 that they may enjoy something of this 
 free life, something of this tattered, soiled 
 striving with fate this life which is not 
 shackled by the bonds of wealth and cus- 
 tom, but which knows something of the 
 joys of poverty and of reckless existence 
 from day to day, upon what the day's 
 successes or the day's failures, for that 
 matter may bring ? I would it were 
 possible for me to show you something 
 of this life.' 
 
 The Countess turned her face toward 
 la Valliere and looked him full in the eyes. 
 There was a flushed colour in her cheeks 
 and an inquiring, searching look in her 
 eyes that would have been trying for some 
 men to face, thinking the thoughts that
 
 196 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 he was thinking, yet he stood it without 
 flinching. 
 
 The pseudo-art in which he was a pro- 
 ficient absorbed his whole faculties in the 
 project of the moment, the success of which 
 became to him, for the time, the sole im- 
 portant aim in life. If the part were well 
 played if the character, whatever it were, 
 was well maintained throughout it mat- 
 tered nothing how it stood with regard to 
 a moral law, to the wellbeing of those 
 with whom it had to do. The spirit of a 
 born actor possessed him. As this lovely 
 creature fixed her eyes upon his he felt 
 as though a power that was not his own 
 gave him confidence and strength. She 
 was in spite of the soft loveliness of her 
 face and expression, and of the rounded
 
 ix THE COUNTESS* EVE 197 
 
 outline of her form of that stately and 
 commanding stature and beauty, of that 
 fulness and perfection of figure, of that 
 steadiness and gravity of look, that makes 
 woman not the frail suppliant for man's 
 pity and protection, but his equal and com- 
 petitor in the race of life a fact that adds 
 to the enterprise, in the eyes of many men, 
 an unspeakable zest, that makes such a 
 woman a priceless possession, an exquisite 
 prize. 
 
 It was a strange and terrible thing, but, 
 as she looked at him, he seemed to grow 
 in beauty and in power. A fascination of 
 which she had been unconscious hitherto 
 seemed to issue from his look and figure, 
 as though some glamour from below it 
 could hardly have come from heaven had
 
 198 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 been suffused into him by deadly magic 
 and guile. A fatal, alluring attraction 
 seemed to overmaster her will, to lure 
 and to induce her to waver in her lofty 
 calm, to throw down her highborn re- 
 serve, to follow him even to poverty and 
 to shame. 
 
 And, indeed, there was in la Valliere's 
 expression and countenance something that 
 might well lure and persuade the will, in 
 the perfectly-cut features, the delicate, dis- 
 tinct eyebrows, the thin, suasive lines of the 
 mouth, closed but trembling as it were in 
 the act to open with dulcet sound, in the 
 full and confident yet inoffensive gaze of 
 the almond-shaped, finely-shaded eyes, a 
 gaze full of conscious sympathy, of a wide, 
 all-embracing perception and knowledge
 
 ix THE COUNTESS EVE 199 
 
 and friendliness. A beautiful, persuasive 
 creature, strangely in touch and keeping 
 with the soft beauty and peace of the 
 garden which it seemed fated to annul and 
 to destroy. 
 
 ' Shall I not trust this man ? ' thought 
 the Countess Eve. ' Shall not I, too, see 
 something of this life of which he speaks, 
 I feel, so well ? Why should not women 
 also know something of good and evil ? 
 Where is my husband at the present 
 moment ? If he may leave his home and 
 wander over the face of the earth in search 
 of adventures, surely so may I.' 
 
 It must have been some demon that put 
 this thought into her mind just then. 
 
 ' What do you want me to do ? ' she 
 said.
 
 200 THE COUNTESS EVE ix 
 
 ' I will have two horses in the valley 
 outside the postern door at this time to- 
 morrow,' sard la Valliere, hardly knowing 
 indeed what he said, so entirely did the 
 words seem prompted to him. ' Come 
 masqued. Many ladies wear masques to 
 protect their faces from the dust. We can 
 return the same way.' 
 
 ' I will come,' she said. 
 
 Each morning in that fair springtime 
 rose, if it might be, more lovely than the 
 last. Every gift that could make earth 
 or life attractive seemed lavished upon 
 sky and land. A mild, soft night had 
 caused the spring to burst almost into full 
 summer in a few hours, and had bathed 
 all the fresh wood and the grass and
 
 IX THE COUNTESS EVE 201 
 
 flowers with a sparkling crystal veil* of 
 pearly light and mist. 
 
 The Countess came into the garden at 
 the appointed hour and passed down to the 
 postern door, her masque in her hand. 
 
 There was no tremor in the blue sky 
 over her head, no sudden pallor on the 
 golden flowers of the earth, no warning 
 note or stillness in the choir of birds that 
 filled the air with music. The Countess 
 put the key into the lock. It grated harshly 
 as she turned it, but it turned easily to her 
 hand. It had been turned often of late. 
 She opened the door and went out. 
 
 The light lay clear upon the grassy turf 
 and on the stems of the great trees dappled 
 with sunshine and with shade ; her heart 
 stopped with a sudden shock and stillness,
 
 202 THE COUNTESS EVE IX 
 
 for," the moment that she passed the 
 threshold, she saw It for the first time. 
 
 It was only for a second. All the power 
 of hell, all the glamour and delusion and 
 sorcery at the command of the Prince of 
 Evil, were exerted at the moment to recall 
 the false step, to cancel the sight ; but it 
 was too late. She had seen, by the power 
 and light of God's conscience in a pure 
 spirit she had seen, at the moment of a 
 fatal error, the face of committed Sin. 
 
 What she saw she never knew. The 
 horror of the sight, whatever it was, blasted 
 her memory, and left it so far a ghastly 
 blank. She sank upon her knees before 
 the still open door of Paradise, her face 
 buried in her hands.
 
 X 
 
 THE same day that la Valliere had left the 
 Countess, he acted at night in the little 
 theatre in the city. In no crisis of his 
 fate, however severe, would he willingly 
 have kept away from the stage or re- 
 nounced his part. 
 
 Here and there, in other nations, have 
 individuals felt this unique attraction for 
 the stage ; but in no nation, as to the 
 French, has been given such ability, deli- 
 cacy, and perfection in the representation 
 of every aspect which character can as- 
 sume or which incident can furnish. Act-
 
 204 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 ing and the stage, in France or among 
 Frenchmen, is a different thing, altogether 
 a distinct art and place, from the craft and 
 the boards which are called by these names 
 in other countries. In the possession of 
 this gift la Valliere was a true French- 
 man. 
 
 When he came off the stage, instead of 
 finding, as he usually did, his friend de 
 Brie waiting for him, he was accosted by 
 the little Viscount. 
 
 ' Monsieur la Valliere,' he said, ' you 
 have been perfectly charming to-night ; you 
 have surpassed yourself. Might I hope 
 that you will condescend to sup with me 
 to-night ? ' 
 
 They went out into the moonlit streets, 
 accompanied by a boy carrying a torch.
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 205 
 
 Iii a silent and somewhat deserted street, 
 in a part of the city which had once been 
 fashionable at a time when centralisation 
 had not crushed out all provincial life in 
 France, they stopped at the portiere of 
 a large and apparently luxurious house. 
 The great door falling back, they found 
 themselves in a passage, which was chiefly 
 lighted by the large fire of a porter's lodge 
 on one side. From the lodge, where ap- 
 parently he had been warming himself 
 before his fire, there appeared a valet or 
 serving-man, of the true old French type. 
 
 'Ah! la Fleur,' said the Viscount, 'I 
 hope you have something presentable for 
 supper. I have brought with me a most 
 distinguished gentleman, whom probably 
 you know very well by sight.'
 
 206 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 La Fleur bowed with a complaisant 
 smile. ' It would distress me,' he said, 
 ' were Monsieur le Vicomte badly served, 
 whether he returns alone or with com- 
 pany.' 
 
 They followed la Fleur and the boy, 
 who had procured candles instead of his 
 torch, up a large and somewhat imposing 
 staircase. As they ascended, la Valliere 
 soon perceived that they were not the only 
 inhabitants of the house. Sounds of talk- 
 ing and even of quarrelling were heard, 
 and figures, some of them in decided dis- 
 habille, peeped at them round corners and 
 flitted from their sight down passages. 
 They were conducted into a comfortably 
 but antiquely-furnished dining-room, where 
 a round table was set for supper.
 
 X THE COUNTESS EVE 207 
 
 The Viscount showed la Valliere into 
 an adjoining room, and begged to be 
 excused for a few moments. When la 
 Valliere came out into the supper- room 
 the Viscount was entering with two 
 large and dusty bottles of wine in his 
 hands. He welcomed la Valliere again 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 ' Monsieur,' he said, ' it gives me the 
 sincerest pleasure to entertain you. You 
 have given me, I say it from my heart, 
 some of the most delightful moments that 
 have occurred in a life that has been by no 
 means too full of pleasure. I give you in 
 return what I have.' 
 
 La Valliere was touched by the little 
 man's evident sincerity. He expressed 
 himself as politely as he could.
 
 208 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 'You may be surprised,' continued the 
 Viscount, ' to find me in so large a house. 
 That is easily explained. When my 
 family gave up la vie de province and 
 lived entirely in Paris, they resigned to 
 me this house their town house as my 
 portion. You may have wondered, some- 
 times, why I remain here at all, and do 
 not go to Paris. That is a long story 
 which need not be told here. I began 
 life as a page to the Queen. When I left 
 the pages I entered the marine, which I 
 did not like. Voila tout. I entered into 
 a compact with la Fleur. He lets the 
 house. I reserve for myself two or three 
 rooms. You may have noticed, even 
 since you have been here to-night, that 
 there are other inmates.'
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 209 
 
 La Valliere admitted that he had. 
 
 ' Yes,' continued the Viscount, ' there 
 are complications, at times disturbances ; 
 but it is life, it is entertaining at times 
 very much so. Besides it is remunerative. 
 Ah ! here is supper.' 
 
 La Fleur entered, accompanied by the 
 boy, and supper was served. It con- 
 sisted of small carp from the river, in a great 
 dish, ^poulet delicately cooked with truffles, 
 and other dainties, all exquisitely served. 
 
 ' This carpillon' said the Viscount, ' at 
 this time of year, caught in certain reaches 
 of the river, is considered very fine.' 
 
 ' It is delicious,' said la Valliere. 
 
 As he spoke la Fleur filled the glasses 
 from one of the bottles the Viscount had 
 himself brought up.
 
 210 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 La Valliere had taken part of his glass, 
 when he put it down suddenly, and looked 
 at the Viscount inquiringly. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the other, evidently pleased, 
 * you like that wine. That is good. I 
 like a man who knows what he is drinking. 
 There is a somewhat curious story about 
 that wine. When my family gave up this 
 house as a city house, they took away 
 most of the furniture to Paris ; but there 
 was some wine left, and la Fleur and I 
 used to visit the cellars.' 
 
 ' If the wine they left,' said la Valliere, 
 emptying his glass, which la Fleur had 
 refilled in the meantime, ' was of this 
 quality, it speaks more for their complais- 
 ance than for their taste.' 
 
 The Viscount smiled. ' Listen,' he
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 211 
 
 said. ' By and by we used to visit the 
 cellar, la Fleur and I 
 
 La Fleur, who must have heard the 
 story often, was standing by with a re- 
 served, amused air. 
 
 ' La Fleur and I. Suddenly, one day, 
 we perceived a door which neither of us 
 had before observed. We tried to open it. 
 It resisted our efforts, although the lock 
 was broken off. We forced off a portion 
 of the rotted wood. Then we perceived 
 that the whole vault, or small cellar, was 
 filled with a huge fungus, which prevented 
 the door from opening inwards. We cut 
 it out piecemeal with an axe. Then at the 
 back we discover a small rediiit of this 
 wine. Voila ! It must have been there a 
 century -who knows ? '
 
 212 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 La Fleur filled the glasses again. 
 
 ' I only produce this wine,' said the 
 Viscount, ' for my most especial friends. I 
 have already said that I am under most 
 peculiar obligation to you. La Fleur re- 
 spects my secret.' 
 
 * Monsieur le Vicomte,' said la Fleur, 
 breaking silence at last in a soft voice, 
 ' has attached himself to me by so many 
 acts of condescension and kindness that it 
 would be infamous were I to betray his 
 slightest confidence.' 
 
 'Wine,' said the Viscount, ' is a wonder- 
 ful thing. I have read in an old book 
 that belonged to a great-uncle of mine, 
 who was a great curioso a book written 
 by an English doctor to that king of theirs 
 whose head they cut off; funny thing, was
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 213 
 
 it not, to cut off a king's head ? but the 
 English are naturally eccentric this doc- 
 tor, partly out of his own head, and out of 
 van Helmont and Paracelsus, tells strange 
 things, of strifes and histories, that go 
 on within the nature of wine, until the 
 perfect spirit is born, and is purified, 
 and escapes, and triumphs over gorgons 
 and demons and slaves, and becomes 
 immortal and the giver of immortality. 
 All this had something to do with the 
 existence of that mystic fungus that filled 
 that cellar of ours which fills other 
 cellars, as I have heard. It certainly is 
 wonderful wine.' 
 
 And with a voice somewhat cracked, 
 but in which much of the old sweetness yet 
 lingered, he sang Sganarelle's air
 
 214 THE COUNTESS EVE X 
 
 ' Qu'ils sont doux 
 Bouteille jolie, 
 
 Qu'ils sont doux, 
 Vos petits glougloux ! 
 Mais mon sort ferait bien des jaloux, 
 Si vous etiez toujours remplie. 
 Ah ! bouteille, ma vie, 
 Pourquoi vous videz-vous?' 
 
 When they had dispatched the poulet 
 aux truffes, and la Fleur had served an 
 omelette and other delicacies, he left the 
 room, and the two men were left alone. 
 La Valliere was seized with a sudden idea, 
 inspired probably by the wine. 
 
 ' Monsieur le Vicomte,' he said, ' I wish 
 you would add another to the favours you 
 have already granted me by asking me to 
 dejeuner to-morrow and allowing me to 
 bring a friend ? ' 
 
 The Viscount looked at him with sur- 
 prise.
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 215 
 
 ' And this friend ? ' 
 
 ' Is the Countess Eve.' 
 
 ' Mon Dieu ! ' cried the Viscount, ' you 
 have not lost time ! And, pray, what 
 should the Countess Eve do here ? ' 
 
 ' I have promised the Countess,' said 
 la Valliere, ' that she should see life. It 
 strikes me that in your manage, from what 
 you have told me and from what I have 
 myself partly seen, something of this sort 
 might be shown her.' 
 
 A very curious expression came into 
 the Viscount's face. He looked at la 
 Valliere for a few seconds across his wine 
 in silence. Had la Valliere's plans been 
 more clearly defined had. he formed, in 
 fact, any distinct scheme or plan of action 
 at all he might have read in the delicate,
 
 216 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 worn face much that might have been of 
 use to him. much that might have revealed 
 
 7 o 
 
 aspects of human life, of which even he, 
 with all the knowledge of good and evil 
 which his art or craft gave him, was still 
 ignorant. As it was, however, he noticed 
 merely that there was a somewhat awkward 
 pause. Then the Viscount said 
 
 ' I should think of it, Monsieur, were 
 I you, once or twice. He is of la haute 
 noblesse on the mother's side ; en outre, 
 elle est si belle. ' 
 
 La Valliere looked at his companion 
 with surprise. Was this the spiteful, gossip- 
 ing, frivolous chatterer, at once the amuse- 
 ment and the pest of society ? At his own 
 table, all through the evening, he had been 
 a different man from what la Valliere
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 217 
 
 had known him elsewhere. It seemed 
 as though his other manner had dropped 
 from him as soon as he had left that vie de 
 socie'te', for which possibly it had been 
 alone assumed. 
 
 ' But I thought, Monsieur le Vicomte,' 
 said la Valliere, ' that you had been so 
 anxious that Madame should se de'semmyerT 
 
 The Viscount looked at him again for a 
 moment. 
 
 ' Que voulez-vous f mon cher Monsieur', 
 he said. ' Do you take a passing word so 
 much au sdrieux. Une petite bourgeoise 
 perit-etre, mats la halite noblesse! c est tout 
 autre chose' 
 
 There was an awkward pause ; la Fleur 
 fortunately came in with coffee, and the 
 Viscount changed the subject.
 
 218 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 ' Your friend, de Brie, did not come to 
 the assembly of nobles,' he said. ' I wish 
 you could have been there ; you would 
 have gleaned invaluable hints for your art. 
 Picture to yourself such a collection of 
 antiques. We attended mass, and then 
 dined .together with Monsieur 1'Intendant. 
 It was the only good meal many of them 
 would have in the year. I would warrant 
 that out of all the nobility of the province, 
 and there are thousands, there are not a 
 dozen who have even a decent income. 
 You would have laughed at the comical 
 assemblage. ' 
 
 La Valliere was too disconcerted to reply. 
 The Viscount went on 
 
 ' I sat next an old Don, Monsieur le 
 Comte de la Roche-Anguie d'Avras. It
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE ,219 
 
 must have been the only good dinner he 
 had had for many a day. I was rather 
 curious to see on what sort of a Rosin- 
 ante he would depart the old mares 
 and other curiosities of horse-flesh would 
 have delighted a Calot so I put myself 
 in his way as we were breaking up, and, 
 would you believe it, he marched away 
 on foot ! three leagues if it were a yard ! 
 to his ruined chateau - mdtairie, where 
 they live from year's end to year's end 
 on pigeons, fowls, and fish. I know the 
 place great ruined towers over alleys of 
 chestnut trees. He wore a long antique 
 cloak, perfectly brushed, but darned all 
 round the edges no doubt by the fair 
 hands of Mesdames de la Roche- Anguie 
 d'Avras. I ventured on a little joke as
 
 220 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 he came down, about your friend the 
 Countess Adam and Eve, you know, 
 and you know the sort of thing. My 
 old Don drew himself up like a poker, 
 looked as though he would have eaten 
 me. Then he pulled his long gray mous- 
 tache down into his mouth as though he 
 would have eaten it. Then he said, 
 
 ' " When I was a boy, Monsieur le 
 Vicomte "-picture to yourself him, or me 
 either for that matter, a boy ! " When I 
 was a boy it was held dangerous to joke 
 about a pretty woman in the presence of 
 gentlemen." Then he strode away into 
 the muddy lanes and into the night.' 
 
 The Viscount continued his chatter, 
 evidently with the courteous intention of 
 covering la Valliere's embarrassment at
 
 x THE COUNTESS EVE 221 
 
 the reception his proposal had met with, 
 but la Valliere was too disconcerted to 
 respond. 
 
 Suddenly a terrific disturbance made 
 itself heard through the partly open door. 
 
 ' What is that noise, la Fleur ? ' said 
 his master, if such he might be called. 
 
 ' Only the Fleche family, Monsieur/ 
 replied la Fleur. ' The old man has 
 caught that vaurien, the gold- worker, who 
 has been forbidden the house, with his 
 daughter, and he and his sons have been 
 dropping him out of one of the front 
 windows. They are really too noisy. I 
 shall have to dismiss them. They pay 
 well, however.' 
 
 The Viscount looked at la Valliere 
 lor a moment with a meaning smile upon
 
 222 THE COUNTESS EVE x 
 
 his thin, lined face, but la Valliere did not 
 speak. 
 
 The men finished their wine. Then 
 the Viscount conducted his friend to the 
 great door leading to the street. As they 
 went down the staircase the commotion 
 seemed to have subsided. They neither 
 heard nor saw any one. 
 
 As la Fleur opened the door for la 
 Valliere to pass out, the Viscount fol- 
 lowed him a step into the street 
 
 ' Monsieur,' he whispered, taking him 
 by the arm, ' don't do it. Think about 
 it, anticipate it, but don't do it. Ma foi f 
 nothing irritates Satan more than that ! .' 
 
 Then he tripped back again into the 
 house, and the great door was closed upon 
 la Valliere and upon the gloomy street.
 
 XI 
 
 WHEN la Valliere awoke from a restless, 
 unrefreshing sleep, and remembered the 
 events of the past night and his strange ap- 
 pointment with the Countess Eve, his sensa- 
 tions were of a very conflicting character. 
 
 Sprung as he was from a race of born 
 actors, advancing from generation to 
 generation in the social scale and in in- 
 tellectual acuteness, but not . at all in any 
 moral or mental strength, he was himself 
 at last as little under the domain or 
 ordinance of moral responsibility as it 
 is possible for any human creature to be.
 
 224 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 The romantic incidents of the last few 
 days, the beauty of the Countess and of 
 her home, the wild, mysterious surround- 
 ings of adventure and of intrigue, had 
 impressed his fancy and excited his 
 imagination as an attractive and fantastic 
 play would have done. When he had stood 
 in Paradise the morning before, so far as 
 he was acting for himself at all, and was 
 not the mere instrument of the powers 
 of evil which had gathered round him and 
 found him a compliant and finished tool, 
 his chief idea had been to gratify his 
 desire of having so glorious a creature as 
 the Countess in his own power and pos- 
 session, to do with her as he would. 
 
 He could, however, never properly be 
 said to have any will of his own, for,
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 225 
 
 according to his training and his creed 
 of life, it was only the passing fancy of 
 the moment, the accident of environment, 
 that attracted his attention or interest, 
 that was worthy of regard. He had 
 therefore been greatly impressed by the 
 way in which his proposal had been 
 received by the Viscount, and had it 
 been necessary to take action immediately 
 on leaving his host, he would probably 
 have relinquished his intention, though 
 such conduct would have involved the 
 breaking of an assignation. But when 
 he awoke in the morning his first thought 
 was that the Countess would come out to 
 meet him in the wood, that he would lift her 
 upon her horse ; whither he would take her 
 he knew not. A strange, unusual power
 
 226 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 within him a strength of purpose and of 
 will surprised even himself. The delight 
 and zest of such an enterprise were pic- 
 tured to his imagination with a distinctness 
 such as he had never known before. 
 
 In one respect fortune favoured him. 
 There was arranged to be given that after- 
 noon, at a chateau some leagues from the 
 city, a performance of private theatricals, 
 Parade as it was called, at which all the 
 fashion of the neighbourhood would be 
 present. These Parades, which were slight 
 comedies representing the humours of 
 the lower classes, were extremely popular 
 among the aristocracy of the time, and 
 were a sign of the general depravity of 
 taste. The Count, trained in an earlier and 
 severer school of society, detested them.
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 227 
 
 ' It was astonishing to him/ he would 
 say, ' how ladies of standing in society, 
 often of rank and fashion, should con- 
 descend to utter sentiments couched in 
 the language of the fishmarket.' 
 
 The Count and Countess, therefore, 
 had declined the invitation to be present, 
 but all the rest of the world had ac- 
 cepted, and the neighbourhood of the 
 chateau of the Countess Eve would in 
 consequence be deserted during the whole 
 of the day. 
 
 It seemed indeed as if the powers 
 of evil were allowed a clear field for 
 their malefic work. De Brie, who alone 
 exerted any continuously steadying in- 
 fluence upon his friend, was mysteriously 
 absent, la Valliere did not know where.
 
 228 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 Left to his own devices, as it seemed, 
 he became an easy prey to those impulses 
 which he had made the rulers of his life. 
 He had ordered horses to be ready for 
 him in the city one accoutred for a lady ; 
 and accompanied by a boy, he mounted 
 and rode out at the appointed time. 
 
 But as he rode out, his mind was not at 
 ease. It was one thing to stand in the 
 radiant garden, in the warm, inspiring sun- 
 shine, face to face with perhaps the 
 loveliest eyes he had ever seen, inspired 
 too by some strange power which did not 
 seem his own, and quite another, in the 
 cool, unexciting, morning hour, to ride out 
 slowly to an enterprise the end of which he 
 could not see. The manner in which the 
 Viscount had received his proposal shewed
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 229 
 
 him, with distinct clearness, the audacity 
 of his enterprise. Its possible consequences 
 occurred to him with alarming insistence ; 
 and as he rode along another difficulty 
 hitherto unthought of perplexed him. 
 
 He had intended to leave his horses at 
 the little farm in the valley, where, as we 
 have seen, he had been in the habit of 
 leaving his horse on his visits to the 
 Countess. He had thought that he would 
 then, as usual, have gone on foot to the 
 postern door, and that he would be there 
 at the appointed moment to receive the 
 Countess as she came out. If he had 
 carried out this plan it is possible that the 
 enduring fate of the personages of this 
 story would have been, for every one of 
 them, other than it was.
 
 230 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 But a weak, highly-sensitive, and ima- 
 ginative nature suggested to him end- 
 less complications. It suddenly occurred 
 to him, as he rode along, that the people 
 at the farm had more than once shown 
 considerable suspicion of his purposes, and 
 that, should he bring the Countess down 
 to them, even though she might be 
 masqued, something unpleasant might be 
 expected to happen. He was not a 
 coward, but he was a man of highly- 
 wrought nervous temperament and sus- 
 ceptibility, and he shrank instinctively 
 from anything like a scene or contention. 
 
 The relations between the noblesse and 
 the peasantry were in those days doubtless 
 not of the most friendly character, but the 
 immediate retainers of the nobility were
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 231 
 
 generally attached to them by interest if 
 not by affection ; and the Count, who had 
 been lonof abroad, and had resided for 
 
 o 
 
 some years in England, had lost, if he ever 
 had them, those cruel, insolent feelings with 
 regard to the peasantry of which some of 
 the French nobles were accused. He was 
 respected, and to a certain extent beloved, 
 by his servants and retainers. Anything 
 prejudicial to his interests and honour was 
 certain to be resented by them. 
 
 These reflections caused la Valliere to 
 hesitate. The more he thought of his 
 scheme, the more wild and dangerous did 
 it appear. The peculiar susceptibility of 
 impression which made him a pliant tool in 
 the hands of evil, at the same time militated 
 against the absolute dominion of any par-
 
 232 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 ticular form of evil. In the sunny garden 
 the morning before, when only the misty 
 outline of his scheme lay before him, it had 
 seemed easy and delicious ; now he was 
 more than half inclined to turn back and 
 renounce the whole. 
 
 But a complex feeling, made up of vanity 
 and honour, prevented this action. Having 
 pledged his word to be at the garden gate 
 at a certain hour, surely he would keep his 
 tryst ; and as he rode along, a mocking, 
 sneering voice seemed ever constant at his 
 ear, insinuating to his fancy the intoler- 
 able ignominy that would await a man 
 who, having such a prize within his grasp, 
 faltered from irresolution or from fear, and 
 turned back at the moment of success. 
 
 Perplexed by these contradictory emo-
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 233 
 
 tions, he adopted a timid policy which, as 
 is usually the case, was fatal to the success 
 of his purpose. He avoided the cottage in 
 the wood, and leaving his horses with the 
 boy in the main road, he determined to await 
 the coming of the Countess at a turn of the 
 wooded path which commanded at once the 
 farmhouse and the horses which he had left. 
 His oscillation and alteration of plan had 
 occasioned some delay, and he did not reach 
 the turn of the path until some moments 
 after that the Countess, true to her time to 
 a second, had opened the postern door ; no 
 finite understanding can realise to the full 
 what the delay of these few seconds meant. 
 From the point where la Valliere stood 
 he could not see the door. He waited for 
 a few minutes impatiently, half hoping
 
 234 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 that she would not come. Then, his 
 anxiety overcoming his prudence, he gave 
 up the sight of the cottage and of his horses, 
 and advanced towards the garden through 
 the shaded pathways of the wood. 
 
 It was now near upon midday. The 
 full morning light, the brilliant sunshine, 
 the soft verdure of the green turf and of 
 the fresh leaves, and the dazzling white 
 blossom of the wild cherry trees were all 
 unheeded by him, for before him, as he 
 ascended the path, the postern door stood 
 wide open ! the bright light from the out- 
 side shining through into the bosky apple 
 groves of Paradise within. There was no 
 trace or sign of the Countess anywhere. 
 What terrible thing had happened ? What 
 was the meaning of the open door ?
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 235 
 
 An appalling sense of mystery, a wild 
 horror and terror such as he had never felt 
 before, seized upon la Valliere's mind. It 
 seemed to him that he was conscious 
 above and around him in the sunny still 
 air, in the warmth and glow of life, and of 
 fresh spring birth of the presence of 
 malefic existence, baffled and excited to 
 despair. The very air he breathed seemed 
 charged with this environing, oppressive 
 power and force, terrible from its invisi- 
 bility. The peculiar faculty with which 
 he was gifted rose in opposition to this 
 unseen, intangible oppression and tyranny. 
 Anything, however appalling to sight and 
 sense, must be better than this ! By a 
 tremendous effort he concentrated his will, 
 as he had done before, in a determined
 
 236 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 effort to see, and before him, issuing as it 
 were from the open door of Paradise, the 
 Abbe once more stood in his path. 
 
 He wished, or so la Yalliere's scared 
 fancy showed him, to avoid his recogni- 
 tion, and he seemed to hold the sleeve, of 
 his cassock across his face ; but la Valliere, 
 maddened with passion and terror, threw 
 himself across his steps. 
 
 ' Devil ! fiend ! ' he cried; ' where is she ? 
 What have you done with her ? ' 
 
 The figure drew the concealing drapery 
 from across its face, and la Valliere stag- 
 gered backwards, blasted at the sight, so 
 deadly in hate, so vindictive in disappoint- 
 ment and despair, was the expression on 
 the ghastly face he saw. 
 
 If there be an annihilation terrible to
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 237 
 
 the damned, to the lost and utterly malefic 
 being, an extinction of the evil existence 
 \vhich is its life and hope, its sole pur- 
 pose and aim, and which comes to such a 
 being therefore with an intolerable, burn- 
 ing despair a crouching, craven fear, 
 which spends its last moments in a mad, 
 purposeless, reckless scattering of the venom 
 which was its life, then such a paroxysm 
 of despairing death, such a final effort of 
 defeated devilry, lashed as with stripes 
 of burning steel across la Valliere's gaze. 
 
 'Fool!'- the words hissed upon his 
 face like withering flame 'miserable fool! 
 Go on ! ' 
 
 Unconscious of will or of motion, la 
 Valliere passed, through the open door 
 into the blessed sunshine of the garden
 
 238 THE COUNTESS EVE xi 
 
 beyond. Some half-way across the daisied 
 sward, and beneath the apple trees, now 
 laden with a wealth of opening blossom, 
 the Countess Eve, clinging to her hus- 
 band's arm, was standing in the dazzling 
 light. Beside them, her eyes fixed upon 
 the open door, stood the Abbess ; and de 
 Brie, with outstretched hand, stepped for- 
 ward to meet his friend. Above them, 
 on the distant terrace, beyond the leafy 
 arcades of the garden, the tapering spire 
 of the Tree of Life pointed towards the 
 cloudless sky. 
 
 Dazed and confounded as he was by 
 what had passed, scared and distracted 
 by the terrible vision he had just escaped 
 from, la Valliere's eyes were riveted upon 
 another sight a sight which he was never
 
 xi THE COUNTESS EVE 239 
 
 to forget. He lived to see the massacres 
 of September, and the butchery of the 
 Swiss Guard, yet the sight that haunted 
 him to his deathbed was not these, nor 
 yet that terrible face outside the gate of 
 Paradise, but the Countess's face as she 
 stood clinging to her husband's arm. 
 
 Often in the dead of night, after long 
 years had passed away, he would wake up 
 with that lovely face shining out upon him 
 from the darkness, distinct and clear as on 
 that wonderful morn, a radiance of the 
 wondering joy of escape and deliverance 
 upon her lips and within her eyes ; but 
 through the meshes of her chestnut hair, 
 and across the gleam of her violet eyes, 
 an appalling mystic light the singe and 
 glow of the flame of the pitl
 
 240 THE COUNTESS EVE xi. 
 
 The Abbess stood like the archangel of 
 God, the crucifix, that turned its flashing 
 light every way, in her uplifted hand. 
 
 ' Fear not,' she said, as la Valliere 
 reached his friend ; ' he will return no 
 more. The sin which gave him birth, 
 which kept him in existence, and gave 
 him his malefic power, is abolished and 
 blotted out ; for by this sign the sign of 
 the Crucifix than which none other shall 
 be given while the world endures, Death 
 and Hell are cast into the lake that burns 
 for ever.' 
 
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