The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane - Alain René le Sage (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

class="calibre1">misfortune on myself by my own inconstancy. I did indeed confirm

the pledge of my hand to Constance, but then it was unavoidable

in the situation to which your father’s policy had reduced us. It

was necessary to put this imposition on the princess for your

interest and for my own; to secure to you your crown, and with it

the hand and heart of your devoted lover. I had flattered myself

with the prospect of success. Measures were already taken to

supersede that engagement, but you have destroyed the bright

illusions of my fancy; and, by disposing of yourself too

precipitately, have antedated an eternity of torment for two

hearts, whom a mutual and perfect love might have conducted to

perpetual bliss.

 

He concluded this explanation with such evident marks of

unfeigned agony, that Blanche was affected by his words. She had

no longer any hesitation about his innocence. At first her joy

was unbounded at the conviction; but then again a sense of their

cruel circumstances gained the ascendant over her mind. Ah! my

honoured lord, said she to the prince, after such a determination

of our destinies, you only inflict a new pang by informing me

that you were not to blame. What have I done, wretched as I am?

My keen resentment has betrayed me into error. I fancied myself

cast off; and in the moment of my anger, accepted the hand of the

constable, whose addresses my father promoted. But the crime is

all my own, though the woes are mutual. Alas! In the very

conjuncture when I accused you of deceiving me, it was by my own

act, too credulously impassioned as I was, that the ties were

broken, which I had sworn for ever to make indissoluble. Take

your revenge, my lord, in your turn. Indulge your hatred against

the ungrateful Blanche… . Forget … . What! and is it in

my power then, madam? interrupted Enriquez with a dejected air:

how is it possible to tear a passion from my heart, which even

your injustice had not the power of extinguishing? Yet it becomes

necessary for you to make that effort, my liege, replied the

daughter of Siffredi, with a deep sigh … . And shall you be

equal to that effort yourself? replied the king. I am not

confident with myself for my success, answered she: but I shall

spare no pains in the attainment of my object. Ah! unfeeling fair

one, said the prince, you will easily banish Enriquez from your

remembrance, since you can contemplate such a purpose so

steadfastly. Whither then does your imagination lead? said

Blanche, in a more decisive tone. Do you flatter yourself that I

can permit the continuance of your tender assiduities? No, my

lord, banish that hope for ever from your thoughts. If I was not

born for royalty, neither has heaven formed me to be degraded by

illicit addresses. My husband, like yourself, my liege, is allied

to the noble house of Anjou. Though the call of duty were less

peremptory, in opposing an insurmountable obstacle to your

insidious proposals, a sense of pride would hinder me from

admitting them. I conjure you to withdraw: we must meet no more.

What a barbarous sentence! exclaimed the king. Ah! Blanche, is it

possible that you should treat me with so much severity? Is it

not enough then to weigh me down, that the constable should be in

possession of your charms? And yet you would cut me off from the

bare sight of you, the only comfort which remains to me! For that

very reason avoid my presence, answered Siffredi’s daughter, not

without some tears of tenderness. The contemplation of what we

have dearly loved is no longer a blessing, when we have lost all

hope of the possession. Adieu, my lord! Shun my very image. You

owe that exertion to your own honour and to my good name. I claim

it also for my own peace of mind: for to deal sincerely, though

my virtue should be steady enough to combat with the suggestions

of my heart, the very remembrance of your affection stirs up so

cruel a conflict, that it is almost too much for my frail nature

to support the shock.

 

Her utterance of these words was attended with so energetic an

action, as to overset the light placed on a table behind her, and

its fall left the room in darkness. Blanche picked it up. She

then opened the door of the antechamber, and went to Nisa’s

closet, who was not yet gone to bed, for the purpose of lighting

it again. She was now returning, after having accomplished her

errand. The king, who was waiting for her impatiently, no sooner

saw her approach, than he resumed his ardent plea with her, to

allow of his attentions. At the prince’s voice, the constable

rushed impetuously, sword in hand, into the room, almost at the

same moment with his bride. Advancing up to Enriquez with all the

indignation which his fury kindled within him: This is too much,

tyrant, cried he; flatter not yourself that I am cowardly enough

to bear with this affront, which you have offered to my honour.

Ay! traitor, answered the king, standing on his guard, lay aside

the vain imagination of being able to compass your purpose with

impunity. With these mutual taunts, they entered on a conflict,

too violent to be long undecided. The constable, fearing lest

Siffredi and his attendants should be roused too soon by the

piercing shrieks of Blanche, and should interpose between him and

his revenge, took no care of himself. His frenzy robbed him of

all skill. He fenced so heedlessly, as to run headlong on his

adversary’s sword. The weapon entered his body up to the hilt. He

fell; and the king instantaneously checked his hand.

 

The daughter of Leontio, touched at her husband’s condition, and

rising superior to her natural repugnance, threw herself on the

ground, and was anxious to afford him every assistance. But that

ill-fated bridegroom was too deeply prejudiced against her, to

allow himself to be softened by the evidences she gave of her

sorrow and her pity. Death, whose hand he felt upon him, could

not stifle the transports of his jealousy. In these his last

moments, no image presented itself to his mind but his rival’s

success. So insufferable was that idea to him, that, collecting

together the little strength he had left, he raised his sword,

which he still grasped convulsively, and plunged it deep in

Blanche’s bosom. Die, said he, as he inflicted the fatal wound;

die, faithless bride, since the ties of wedlock were not strong

enough to preserve to me the vow which you had sworn upon the

altar. And as for you, Enriquez, pursued he, triumph not too

loudly on your destinies. You are prevented from taking advantage

of my froward fortune; and I die content. Scarcely did these

words quiver on his lips, when he breathed his last. His

countenance, overcast as it was with the shades of death, had

still something in it of fierceness and of terror. That of

Blanche presented a quite different aspect. The wound she had

received was mortal. She fell on the scarcely breathing body of

her husband: and the blood of the innocent victim flowed in the

same stream with that of her murderer, who had executed his cruel

purpose so suddenly, that the king could not prevent it from

taking effect.

 

This ill-fated prince uttered a cry at the sight of Blanche as

she fell. Pierced deeper than herself by the stab which deprived

her of life, he did his utmost to afford the same relief to her

as she had offered, though at so fatal an expense, to one who

might have rewarded her better. But she addressed him in these

words, while the last breath quivered on her lips: My lord, your

assiduities are fruitless, I am the victim. Merciless fate

demands me, and I resign myself to death. May the anger of heaven

be appeased by the sacrifice, and the prosperity of your reign be

confirmed. As she was with difficulty uttering these last words,

Leontio, drawn thither by the reverberation of her shrieks, came

into the room; and, thunderstruck at the dreadful scene before

him, remained fixed to the spot where he stood. Blanche, without

noticing his presence, went on addressing herself to the king.

Farewell, prince, said she; cherish my memory with the tenderness

it deserves. My affection and my misfortunes entitle me at least

to that. Harbour no aversion to my father; he is innocent. Be a

comfort to his remaining days; assuage his grief; acknowledge his

fidelity. Above all, convince him of my spotless virtue. With

this I charge you, before every other consideration. Farewell, my

dear Enriquez … . I am dying. Receive my last sigh.

 

Here her words were intercepted by the approach of death. For

some time the king maintained a sullen silence. At length he said

to Siffredi, whose senses seemed to be locked up in a mortal

trance: Behold, Leontio; feed on the contemplation of your own

work. In this tragical event, you may ruminate on the issue of

your officious cares, and your overweening zeal for my service.

The old man returned no answer, so deeply was he penetrated by

his affliction. But wherefore dwell on the description of

circumstances, when the powers of language must sink under the

weight of such a catastrophe? Suffice it to say, that they

mutually poured forth their sorrows in the most affecting terms,

as soon as their grief allowed them to give vent to its effusions

in speech.

 

Through the whole course of his life, the king cherished a tender

recollection of his mistress. He could not bring himself to marry

Constance. The infant Don Pedro combined with that princess, and

by their joint efforts, an obstinate attempt was made to carry

the will of Roger into execution; but they were compelled in the

end to give way to Prince Enriquez, who gained the ascendancy

over all his enemies. As for Siffredi, the melancholy he

contracted from having been the cause of destruction to his

dearest friends, gave him a disgust to the world, and made a

longer abode in his native country insupportable. He turned his

back on Sicily for ever; and, coming over into Spain with Portia,

his surviving daughter, purchased this mansion. He lived here

nearly fifteen years after the death of Blanche, and had the

consolation, before his own death, of establishing Portia in the

world. She married Don Jerome de Silva, and I am the only issue

of that marriage. Such, pursued the widow of Don Pedro de

Penares, is the story of my family; a faithful recital of the

melancholy events represented in that picture, which was painted

by order of my grandfather Leontio, as a record to his posterity

of the fatal adventure I have related.

 

CH. V. — The behaviour of Aurora de Guzman on her arrival at

Salamanca.

 

ORTIZ, her companions, and myself, after having heard this tale,

withdrew together from the hall, where we left Aurora with

Elvira. There they lengthened out the remainder of the day in a

mutual intercourse of confidence. They were not likely to be

weary of each other: and on the following morning, when we took

our leave, there was as much to do to part them, as if they had

been two friends brought up in the closest habits of confidence

and affection.

 

In due time we reached Salamanca without any impediment. There we

immediately engaged a ready-furnished house, and Dame Ortiz, as

it had been before agreed, assumed the name of Donna Kimena de

Guzman. She had played the part of a duenna too long not to be

able to shift her character according to circumstances. One

morning she went out with