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