"Yes, I should have taken her with me," he said.He sat gloomy and dogged like a dangerous maniac in his cell; never moved, scarce thought for more than half an hour; but his deadly purpose grew in him.Suddenly he started.A lady was at the style, about a hundred yards distant.He trembled.It was Josephine.
She came towards him slowly, her eyes bent on the ground in a deep reverie.She stopped about a stone's throw from him, and looked at the river long and thoughtfully; then casting her eye around, she caught sight of Camille.He watched her grimly.He saw her give a little start, and half turn round; but if this was an impulse to retreat, it was instantly suppressed; for the next moment she pursued her way.
Camille stood gloomy and bitter, awaiting her in silence.He planted himself in the middle of the path, and said not a word.
She looked him all over, and her color came and went.
"Out so far as this," she said kindly; "and without your cap."He put his hand to his head, and discovered that he was bareheaded.
"You will catch your death of cold.Come, let us go in and get your cap."She made as if she would pass him.He planted himself right before her.
"No."
"Camille!"
"Why do you shun me as if I was a viper?""I do not shun you.I but avoid conferences that can lead to no good; it is my duty.""You are very wise; cold-hearted people can be wise.""Am I cold-hearted, Camille?"
"As marble."
She looked him in the face; the water came into her eyes; after awhile she whispered, sorrowfully, "Well, Camille, I am.""But with all your wisdom and all your coldness," he went on to say, "you have made a mistake; you have driven me to madness and despair.""Heaven forbid!" said she.
"Your prayer comes too late; you have done it.""Camille, let me go to the oratory, and pray for you.You terrify me.""It is no use.Heaven has no mercy for me.Take my advice; stay where you are; don't hurry; for what remains of your life you gave to pass with me, do you understand that?""Ah!" And she turned pale.
"Can you read my riddle?"
She looked him in the face."I can read your eyes, and I know you love me.I think you mean to kill me.I have heard men kill the thing they love.""Of course they do; sooner than another should have it, they kill it--they kill it.""God has not made them patient like us women.Poor Camille!""Patience dies when hope dies.Come, Madame Raynal, say a prayer, for you are going to die.""God bless you, Camille!" said the poor girl, putting her hands together in her last prayer.At this sweet touch of affection, Camille hung his head, and sobbed.Then suddenly lashing himself into fury, he cried,--"You are my betrothed! you talk of duty; but you forget your duty to me.Are you not my betrothed this four years? Answer me that.""Yes, Camille, I was."
"Did I not suffer death a hundred times for you, to keep faith with you, you cold-blooded traitress with an angel's face?""Ah, Camille! can you speak so bitterly to me? Have I denied your right to kill me? You shall never dishonor me, but you shall kill me, if it is your pleasure.I do not resist.Why, then, speak to me like that; must the last words I hear from your mouth be words of anger, cruel Camille?""I was wrong.But it is so hard to kill her I love in cold blood.
I want anger as well as despair to keep me to it.Come, turn your head away from me, and all our troubles shall end.""No, Camille, let me look at you.Then you will be the last thing Ishall see on earth."
At this he hesitated a moment; then, with a fierce stamp at what he thought was weakness, he levelled a pistol at her.
She put up her hands with a piteous cry, "Oh! not my face, Camille!
pray do not disfigure my face.Here--kill me here--in my bosom--my heart that loved you well, when it was no sin to love you.""I can't shoot you.I can't spill your blood.The river will end all, and not disfigure your beauty, that has driven me mad, and cost you, poor wretch, your life.""Thank you, dear Camille.The water does not frighten me as a pistol does; it will not hurt me; it will only kill me.""No, it is but a plunge, and you will be at peace forever; and so shall I.Come, take my hand, Madame Raynal, Madame Raynal."She gave him her hand with a look of infinite love.She only said, "My poor mother!" That word did not fall to the ground.It flashed like lightning at night across the demented lover, and lighted up his egotism (suicide, like homicide, is generally a fit of maniacal egotism), even to his eyes blinded by fury.
"Wretch that I am," he shrieked."Fly, Josephine, fly! escape this moment, that my better angel whispers to me.Do you hear? begone, while it is time.""I will not leave you, Camille."
"I say you shall.Go to your mother and Rose; go to those you love, and I can pity; go to the chapel and thank Heaven for your escape.""Yes, but not without you, Camille.I am afraid to leave you.""You have more to fear if you stay.Well, I can't wait any longer.
Stay, then, and live; and learn from me how to love Jean Raynal."He levelled the pistol at himself.
Josephine threw herself on him with a cry, and seized his arm.With the strength excitement lent her she got the better, and all but overpowered him.But, as usual, the man's strength lasted longer, and with a sustained effort he threw her off; then, pale and panting, raised the pistol to take his life.This time she moved neither hand nor foot; but she palsied his rash hand with a word.
"No; I LOVE YOU."
