Fleurange herself hardly comprehended its extent. “But where is Felix, then?” she said at length.
“A fortnight!” she exclaimed, with a painful remembrance of their last interview.
“He left the day after the _soirée_ at the time of Clara’s marriage.”
“That evening,” she said with emotion, “he spoke of an abyss into which my hand would prevent him from falling. O God!” she continued with the greatest agitation, “could I really have saved him by consenting? Would the sacrifice of my life have prevented this terrible disaster?”
“No; the great stake he made that night was his sole resource against ruin. Why did he talk to you in such a manner? Was it through madness or perversity? It must have been madness, the unfortunate fellow loved you without doubt. I pity him, but--” Clement hesitated and then rapidly continued: “Listen to me, Gabrielle. I am going to tell you something it might be better to keep to myself, but I must justify myself and reassure you, and it cannot injure him now. I regarded Felix with contempt because,” and for a moment there was a flash in Clement’s eye--“because he wished to make me as despicable as himself, and once played the vile _rôle_ of a tempter to me who was then but a boy--because he would, if he could, have drawn me after him into the path which to-day has ended so fatally. Therefore, cousin,” he continued with still more emotion, “had he succeeded in winning your hand, I should have felt it my duty to have warned you of his unworthiness, of which I was too well aware, for I have never forgotten you called me your brother. But I was reluctant to denounce him, and glad, oh! so glad, that evening, not to be obliged to do so--glad you were saved by your own self! And if I tell you all this now, it is to put an end to the fears you have just expressed.”
“And I am grateful to you for banishing them. But, Clement, tell me once more--here, in the presence of God, have I nothing to reproach myself with?”
“Nothing, on my honor, Gabrielle, believe me!”
Clement, as we have remarked, possessed great firmness of character, and a kind of premature wisdom which gave him great ascendency over others. When this trait is natural, it is manifest at an early age, and a day often suffices for its complete development. That day had arrived for Clement, and henceforth no one would ever dream of calling him a boy.