Maitre Cornelius | Page 3

no doubt, instantly, and glance at his wife. His sardonic lips, his
pointed chin aggressively pushed forward, presented the characteristic
signs of a malignant spirit, a sagacity coldly cruel, that would surely
enable him to divine all because he suspected everything. His yellow
forehead was wrinkled like those of men whose habit it is to believe
nothing, to weigh all things, and who, like misers chinking their gold,
search out the meaning and the value of human actions. His bodily
frame, though deformed, was bony and solid, and seemed both
vigorous and excitable; in short, you might have thought him a stunted
ogre. Consequently, an inevitable danger awaited the young lady
whenever this terrible seigneur woke. That jealous husband would
surely not fail to see the difference between a worthy old burgher who
gave him no umbrage, and the new-comer, young, slender, and elegant.
"Libera nos a malo," she said, endeavoring to make the young man
comprehend her fears.
The latter raised his head and looked at her. Tears were in his eyes;
tears of love and of despair. At sight of them the lady trembled and
betrayed herself. Both had, no doubt, long resisted and could resist no
longer a love increasing day by day through invincible obstacles,
nurtured by terror, strengthened by youth. The lady was moderately
handsome; but her pallid skin told of secret sufferings that made her
interesting. She had, moreover, an elegant figure, and the finest hair in
the world. Guarded by a tiger, she risked her life in whispering a word,
accepting a look, and permitting a mere pressure of the hand. Love may
never have been more deeply felt than in those hearts, never more
delightfully enjoyed, but certainly no passion was ever more perilous. It
was easy to divine that to these two beings air, sound, foot-falls, etc.,
things indifferent to other men, presented hidden qualities, peculiar
properties which they distinguished. Perhaps their love made them find
faithful interpreters in the icy hands of the old priest to whom they
confessed their sins, and from whom they received the Host at the holy
table. Love profound! love gashed into the soul like a scar upon the
body which we carry through life! When these two young people

looked at each other, the woman seemed to say to her lover, "Let us
love each other and die!" To which the young knight answered, "Let us
love each other and not die." In reply, she showed him a sign her old
duenna and two pages. The duenna slept; the pages were young and
seemingly careless of what might happen, either of good or evil, to
their masters.
"Do not be frightened as you leave the church; let yourself be
managed."
The young nobleman had scarcely said these words in a low voice,
when the hand of the old seigneur dropped upon the hilt of his dagger.
Feeling the cold iron he woke, and his yellow eyes fixed themselves
instantly on his wife. By a privilege seldom granted even to men of
genius, he awoke with his mind as clear, his ideas as lucid as though he
had not slept at all. The man had the mania of jealousy. The lover, with
one eye on his mistress, had watched the husband with the other, and
he now rose quickly, effacing himself behind a column at the moment
when the hand of the old man fell; after which he disappeared, swiftly
as a bird. The lady lowered her eyes to her book and tried to seem calm;
but she could not prevent her face from blushing and her heart from
beating with unnatural violence. The old lord saw the unusual crimson
on the cheeks, forehead, even the eyelids of his wife. He looked about
him cautiously, but seeing no one to distrust, he said to his wife:--
"What are you thinking of, my dear?"
"The smell of the incense turns me sick," she replied.
"It is particularly bad to-day?" he asked.
In spite of this sarcastic query, the wily old man pretended to believe in
this excuse; but he suspected some treachery and he resolved to watch
his treasure more carefully than before.
The benediction was given. Without waiting for the end of the "Soecula
soeculorum," the crowd rushed like a torrent to the doors of the church.
Following his usual custom, the old seigneur waited till the general

hurry was over; after which he left his chapel, placing the duenna and
the youngest page, carrying a lantern, before him; then he gave his arm
to his wife and told the other page to follow them.
As he made his way to the lateral door which opened on the west side
of the cloister, through which it was his custom to pass, a stream of
persons detached itself