THE ORPHAN OF THE RHINE
PART 5
Chapter 6
Far to the right where Apennine ascends.
Bright as the summer Italy extends.
Its upland sloping decks the mountains side.
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride.
While oft some temple's mould'ring top between.
With venerable grandeur marks the scene.
--GOLDSMITH
The rich
and variegated landscape that every way presented itself, had a happy but
transient effect upon the spirits of Julie, and for some time diverted her mind
from the painful contemplation of her own misfortunes. Amidst the vast and
magnificent scenery arose mountains crested with pines, in high cultivation and
verdure, some of which seemed retiring, and to have formed themselves into the
most picturesque lines, whose slopes were decorated with mosses, tinted with a
variety of hues, which gave a sylvan richness to their surface.
The
rapidity of their motion occasioned a hasty succession of beautiful imagery;
sometimes a venerable abbey, half mouldering into ruins, reared its majestic
head above the thick foliage of the wood, and sometimes in the meek hour of
evening, or before the sun had risen upon the eminences, the shepherd-boy, as
he led his flock from the valleys, would lean upon his staff, and listen to the
chaunted hymn, or early matins, as the sound floated upon the gale along the
surface of the water.
As they
arrived near the mansion of Madame Laronne, the magical influence of the
picturesque scenery was at an end; and as Julie fixed her eyes upon the turrets
of the chateau, which were gilded with the last rays of the retiring sun, a
thousand melancholy presages arose in her mind, and awakened sensations of
grief and terror.
The
chateau was situated on an extensive lawn between two mountains, which opened
to a clear and beautiful lake; the banks of the river, the lawn, and the hills,
were clothed in the finest and richest verdure, whilst the whole of the scenery
appeared capable of the highest improvement; but nothing like taste was
displayed in the design. The mansion, which was lofty and extensive, had been
formerly a fortified castle, but was now modernized with the addition of two
large wings; but neither the building nor the grounds surrounding it discovered
any traces of taste or judgment. The walks were gloomy and ill contrived, no
elevations or windings displayed to advantage the grandeur of the mountains;
nor did this appear to have been the intention of the artist, as they seemed to
have been originally designed to lead as avenues to some fanciful but inelegant
structures, which terminated their prospect.
When Madame
Laronne and Julie had alighted, they were conducted into a spacious saloon,
which was richly ornamented with the most costly furniture and valuable
paintings. The ostentatious magnificence of every thing around formed a
striking contrast with that unadorned and charming simplicity which
characterized the former dwelling of Julie, so congenial to her feelings, and
that of her mother.
Madame
Laronne, anxiously displaying all the grandeur that surrounded her, expected
from her niece that tribute of applause which she considered she had a right to
demand; but was evidently mortified when Julie's countenance discovered nothing
of either pleasure or surprise as she contemplated the splendour of her new
abode.
After
partaking of a slight collation with her aunt, Julie gained permission to
retire to her chamber; and a servant having conducted her up a winding
staircase, and through a long suite of rooms, informed her which was her
apartment.
It was a
large half-furnished room, situated in the ancient part of the edifice, hung
with tapestry, and ornamented with the ancient portraits of the family; she
was, however, too much fatigued, and too spiritless to examine them, and
hastily undressing, retired to her bed.
In the
morning she arose much earlier than the rest of the family, and amused herself
for some time with observing the pictures. The greater part of them were
allegorical, but in general ill-designed and executed, much damaged by neglect,
and the colouring so materially injured by time, that the figures were scarcely
perceptible.
When she
had gazed for a considerable time upon these relics of ancient greatness, she
opened the high Gothic casement of her window, which was adorned, on the upper
part, with a variety of saints, crucifixes, and other holy devices, and cast
her eyes over the fine extent of landscape with the most pleasurable emotions.
The sun was just rising, but had not yet power sufficient to entirely dissipate
the mists that had veiled the summits of the mountains; yet some parts of them
were tinged with its faint radiance, which shed an effusion of the most soft
and delicate tints.
Cheered
and animated by the objects that were presented to her view, she wished to
ramble through the grounds that she might examine more attentively the fine
features of nature, and enjoy the first charms of the morning. Having unclosed
the door, she listened for a few moments to hear if any of the family were
stirring; but finding all was silent, and believing that none of the servants
were at present arisen, she closed it, and taking a small volume of Metastasio
from her pocket, sat down to read.
In about
an hour she again opened the door, and hearing footsteps upon the stairs,
ventured to proceed. It was Madame Laronne's woman, who, having conducted her
to the outward gate, informed her which was the avenue that led to the
principal part of the gardens. After walking slowly and thoughtfully through
rows of pine and chestnut, the scene opened into a circular plain, which was
decorated with a collection of statues and vases, neither of which possessed a
sufficient degree of merit to invite observation.
Having
taken an extensive ramble through the most considerable part of the grounds,
she began to fear she had been absent too long, and returning rapidly to the
chateau, found Madame Laronne in the breakfast-room impatiently awaiting her
arrival.
After much
uninteresting conversation on subjects little calculated to bestow pleasure on
a refined and cultivated mind, which were introduced by the lady of the mansion
at once to impress her niece with an idea of her importance, and to make her
feel more forcibly her own dependant situation, Julie now, more than ever
inclined to seek for consolation in solitude, retired to her room, and having
indulged in a flood of tears, which she found it impossible to restrain,
endeavoured, by serious reflection, to arm herself with courage to endure the
evils of her destiny with becoming firmness. The example of her excellent
mother, and the precepts she had delivered with her dying breath, recurred
continually to her thoughts, tending to reassure and strengthen her mind, so as
to prepare it to withstand the attacks of misfortune.
Having
regained, in some measure, that enviable serenity of soul, which never long
abandons the virtuous, she left her retirement, and was proceeding leisurely
through the gallery, when the stopping of a carriage, announcing the arrival of
visitors, arrested her steps, and determined her to return again to her
apartment, and await their dismission, lest she should be obliged to attend
them in the saloon.
In about
an hour, on hearing the carriage roll from the door, she ventured to descend,
and found Madame Laronne alone, and in high spirits, having been honoured with
a visit from the Contessa di Romilini, from whom she had received an invitation
for that day in the next week to a fete; which condescension, she informed
Julie, was politely extended to herself, at the same time observing that all
the nobility in the neighbourhood were to be present on the occasion, and that
it would be necessary to prepare habits immediately suitable to the nature of
the entertainment, and the company of which it was to be composed.
'But let
me tell you, niece,' resumed Madame Laronne, 'that you must not indulge
yourself in these imaginary distresses when you are introduced to circles of
fashion; that pensiveness of demeanour, which you believe to be so fascinating,
will be thought not only unseasonable but ridiculous, and will be considered in
a young woman as a piece of unpardonable affectation. Besides, this extreme
languor which you fancy so becoming and so amiable, if allowed to become
habitual, will render you unfit for the society of those who may be a means of
advancing your fortunes. Who do you suppose will think of addressing a girl who
can do nothing but weep and sigh? Men in general are not partial to people of
this cast, and indeed they are only fit to be the companions of groves and
fountains.'
'If my
misfortunes, Madame,' replied Julie, meekly, 'have, as you have justly
observed, rendered me unfit for the society of the fashionable part of the
world, I must solicit you to dispense with my attendance, as there is but
little probability of my being able to conduct myself either to your
satisfaction or my own.'
'I am sorry
to find, niece,' continued Madame Laronne, 'a degree of obstinacy in your
disposition, which I was not prepared to expect; but so long as you are under
my protection, I am in some measure answerable for your conduct: I therefore
think it right to inform you, that I shall expect, on your part, the most
implicit obedience. Though your ideas of propriety and mine may not exactly
accord, not to accept the invitation of the Contessa, an honour you could not
reasonably expect from a person of her rank, particularly as you was not
present at the time, would be considered not only as a deviation from the laws
of politeness, but a breach of gratitude-an error of which I thought you people
of sentiment were never to be accused.'
Finding
that no powers of persuasion were likely to prove effectual, Julie silently
acquiesced, and the intermediate time was chiefly employed in preparing dresses
suitable to the occasion.
When the
expected evening arrived, which was so fondly anticipated by Madame Laronne,
they were conveyed to the chateau of the Contessa di Romilini. It was a large
magnificent structure, situated on the brow of a hill, which commanded a rich
and extensive prospect. The architecture was a mixture of the Tuscan and
Composite; the pillars, which were remarkably lofty, were finely polished and
ornamented with a number of lamps of various colours, which being formed into
the most beautiful wreaths, had an unspeakably fine effect. The trees that
surrounded the lawn and the walks, which were long and winding, were also
fancifully adorned with a profusion of lights, and garlands of flowers
elegantly and artfully disposed, were carelessly hung upon the branches of the
larch and the laburnum. Seats were placed in the gardens and baskets of fruits,
the finest that Italy could produce, were held by a number of beautiful girls,
habited as wood-nymphs in a style equally simple and alluring.
The
assembly was large and brilliant; all the fashion of Turin and its environs
were present. Julie, being personally unknown to the lady who presided, was
introduced first to the Contessa, and then to the rest of the company, who were
already seated on the lawn. Nothing could be more lovely, more interesting,
than her appearance. Her hair, which was somewhat darker than flaxen, waved
upon her neck in the most charming profusion, decorated only with pearls formed
into a garland of jessamine, which gave an air of lightness and grace perfectly
correspondent with the rest of her figure. Her long mourning robe, which
displayed to advantage the fine symmetry of her shape, was clasped and fastened
with a cestus of the same, and the whole of her form and demeanour displayed
that irresistible grace and sweetness which the utmost eloquence of language
can but feebly describe. Every eye was fixed upon the beautiful stranger, who,
unconscious of her powers of attraction, averted her blushing cheek from the
gaze of admiration with evident distress.
All the
company being assembled, and the music in readiness, the dance began. Julie was
led out by Signor Vescolini, the only son of the Conte della Croisse, and
Madame Laronne by the Marchese de Montferrat.
In a few
hours, the evening being far advanced, they repaired to the saloon, where a
banquet was prepared, chiefly composed of dried fruits, cream, and sweetmeats.
Elated
beyond measure at the preference shewn her by the Marchese, and anxious to
cultivate an acquaintance so flattering to her ambition, Madame Laronne gave
him a general invitation to visit her at her chateau, in which his relation,
Signor Vescolini, was included, whose marked attentions to her niece were
beheld with secret satisfaction.
It was
late when the party separated for the night; yet she left with regret an
entertainment which had, as was seldom the case, more than answered her most
sanguine expectations. The solicitude of her partner, aided by her own vanity,
had deluded her into a thousand inconsistences. She reflected upon her beauty
with triumph, without considering that, though once fascinating, it was beauty
in the wane, and was in idea already a Marchesa.
Her
captivating niece, who had formed no very flattering hopes of the evening's
amusement, experienced more satisfaction than she believed it could produce,
and felt gratified with the attention she received, without one spark of vanity
being excited in her bosom.
On the
morrow, by mutual agreement, the Marchese de Montferrat and the Signor
Viscolini waited upon the ladies at their chateau, to inquire into the state of
their healths after the fatigue of the preceding evening. As the Signor
addressed himself to Mademoiselle de Rubine, there was an air of respectful
tenderness in his deportment which did not elude the observation of her aunt,
who would probably have felt somewhat mortified at the preference thus
evidently shewn to her dependant, had not the conversation of the Marchese been
chiefly directed to herself.
The
remains of a fine person were still visible in Madame Laronne, notwithstanding
the form which Nature had bestowed upon her, was continually distorted with
unpardonable affectation. Having but just entered her fortieth year, she still
retained a sufficient portion of beauty to attract regard, though the pains she
employed to display and improve it, too frequently counteracted its effects.
Dress was
her favourite occupation, which she studied as a science; but a false taste was
perceptible in her choice of attire a dazzling and ill judged finery, which
ever renders less lovely the most delicate forms, being usually substituted in
the room of that attractive simplicity which indicates a refined and elegant
mind.
As the
morning was fine, a walk in the gardens was proposed and acceded to, during
which ramble Julie was compelled, with a slight degree of uneasiness, to endure
the increasing attentions of Signor Vescolini, which she feared would not
escape the penetration of her aunt, who would probably on her return rally her
upon a subject, which the present tone of her spirits would render
insupportable; and which determined her to absent herself on his next visit.
It was
late in the day before the Marchese and the Signor arose to depart, when Madame
Laronne, who in their presence had exhausted all the graces of her eloquence,
again reminded them of her former invitation, which she desired them to
consider as a general one; and having, with a gracious smile particularly
directed to the Marchese, repeated her adieus, attended them to the gate.
Glad to be
thus released from the society of her new acquaintance, Julie hastened from the
room, that by this means she might escape the scrutinizing glances of her aunt,
which beamed nothing of feminine tenderness, and indulge the sadness of her
feelings in the solitude of her closet. In spite of every effort to the
contrary, she too often reverted to the past; and when she compared her former
felicity, when blessed with the counsel and society of her parents with the
forlornness of her present situation, the poignancy of her affliction was
scarcely supportable, and tears, that refused to be suppressed, fell fast upon
her cheek. Once nurtured, protected, and caressed in the bosom of maternal
affection, now consigned to the care of a haughty relation, who,
notwithstanding her former professions, seemed to feel nothing of genuine
regard, nor even the sentiment of pity for her misfortunes, she was lost in
these melancholy reflections, when the loud tone of the dinner-bell summoned
her into the dining-parlour, where Madame Laronne, with more than her
accustomed dignity, was seated to receive her. As soon as the cloth was
withdrawn, and the servants dismissed, she began, after a short preparatory
address, to congratulate her niece upon the conquest she had made over the
young Signor Vescolini. Julie blushed, but remained silent.
'His
family and connexions,' resumed Madame Laronne, 'are unexceptionable; and
though sanguine expectations are too frequently founded on error, we may
sometimes innocently indulge them. At present his attentions may be directed to
no other object than that of momentary amusement; but if you receive them with
due gratitude and humility, it is possible it may terminate fortunately.'
Disconcerted
at these hasty and indelicate effusions, Julie was at first unprepared for a
reply, whilst her aunt, who construed this silent embarrassment into joy for
such unexpected good fortune, began to enlarge upon the subject, endeavouring
at the same time to contaminate the pure principles of her heart with the
precepts which had infected her own.
As soon as
Mademoiselle de Rubine could command courage enough to answer, she assured
Madame Laronne that, however eligible such a connexion might appear in the eyes
of the world, she was convinced she could never descend to the meanness of
accepting an alliance in which her heart had no interest, merely for the sake
of attaining that elevation of rank and precedence which she had been taught to
consider as unimportant, and which was only to be obtained by the humiliating
circumstances she had mentioned; not omitting to observe, that, however the
attentions of the Signor might appear to be directed to herself, those enviable
distinctions to which she had recurred must eventually preclude every idea of
the kind. 'Can I, Madame,' resumed she, raising her soft blue eyes from the
ground, which were half obscured with her tears, 'submit to the meanness of
dissimulation for the sake of ripening into affection what may be nothing more
than momentary admiration? Can I throw myself upon the generosity of a family
who, from motives of ambition, may reject me, and doubly despise me for my
presumption in entering it? Rather let me endure the severest mortification
that neglect and penury can inflict, than lessen myself in my own estimation,
and by yielding to the erroneous prejudices of the multitude, justly incur the
censure of the most worthy and discerning.'
'I little
thought, niece,' resumed Madame Laronne, 'that when, in consideration of your
unprotected youth, I condescended to take you under my care, of the difficulty
attending so important a charge, or that obstinacy and caprice were so strongly
featured in your character. Had the assiduities of the Signor been displeasing
to me you would have been eloquent in his praise, and would have discovered a
thousand amiable qualities which have now escaped unnoticed.'
'I hope,
Madame,' continued Julie, mildly, 'that you have had no reason to pass this
severe censure upon my conduct, as, should I ever form an attachment, my
happiness will be materially augmented by your approbation of my choice.'
'But this
is not an affair,' replied Madame Laronne, raising her voice still higher, 'in
which we are likely to agree. You have, or pretend to have, an aversion to
those things which only make marriage desirable, at least in the opinion of the
reasonable part of the world; but I am sorry to add, niece, that you are a very
romantic girl, and when it is too late, may possibly repent your error. Your
mother had many strange prejudices as well as yourself, and it would have been
much to her advantage if she had been enabled to conquer them.'
'If I
imitate her example, Madame,' returned Julie, wiping an obtruding tear from her
cheek, 'which I hope will ever be the rule of my conduct, I shall not prove
myself unworthy of your protection.'
Madame
Laronne was preparing to reply, but her lovely dependant, being willing to
escape from so unpleasant a conference, precipitately withdrew, leaving her
offended relation to vent her anger in secret. The reflection cast upon the
character of her mother, whom she considered as the brightest pattern of female
excellence, Mademoiselle de Rubine could but ill support. She had, indeed,
formed no very high opinion of Madame Laronne's tenderness, or of the delicacy
of her sentiments; but to mention this revered parent in terms of
disapprobation, convinced her that she was not only destitute of sensibility,
but of candour.
Not a day
passed in which the Marchese de Montserrat and the Signor Vescolini did not
visit the chateau. The assiduities of the latter increased; but, though Julie
admired his person, which was cast in the finest mould, and was by no means
insensible to his numerous accomplishments, he was unable to interest her
affections. His continual solicitude displeased her, and the levity with which
he treated the articles of the Romish Church, from whose tenets he had recently
dissented, determined her to preserve an apparent indifference of deportment towards
him, which she hoped, by offending his pride, would eventually terminate his
visits.
Signor
Vescolini, having received his education in Germany, had embraced the Reformed
Religion through the doctrines of Luther; and Julie, after having been for some
time deceived by the artifice of Madame Laronne respecting his religious
opinions, was convinced, by a conversation with the Marchese, that he had
relinquished what he termed his former errors; and owing to the native
pliability of his disposition, had been prevailed upon, by the adherents of
this celebrated reformer, to embrace Protestantism.
A few days
after this discovery she was summoned into the apartment of her aunt, who
informed her, to her inexpressible uneasiness, that the Signor had made a formal
declaration of his passion, and moreover had solicited her interference in his
behalf. Perfectly aware of the consequence of this sudden and indiscrete
avowal, Julie started, and appeared much agitated.
'You have
certainly been peculiarly fortunate,' continued Madame Laronne, regarding her
attentively as she spoke; 'and, notwithstanding the unjustifiable caprice and
insensibility you discovered on a former conversation, I cannot believe you
mean seriously to reject such honourable proposals. I would feign not imagine
it possible you could hesitate for a moment. How many young women have been
obliged to accept of inferior alliances, who may boast of an equal share of
beauty and discretion!'
'I am
sorry to affirm, Madame,' replied Julie, hesitatingly, 'that there are reasons
which must subject me to the painful necessity of refusing my obedience to your
and the Signor's requests. The religious opinions of the person you have
proposed to me as a husband are repugnant to my own, and a want of concord in
that important article must ever prove hostile to domestic happiness.'
'So you
would actually decline a connexion with one of the first families in Italy,'
returned Madame Laronne, indignantly, 'because the person who addresses you,
happens not to be so bigoted and so ridiculous as yourself?'
Julie
observing that he might be equally bigoted, even though his principles were
erroneous, ventured to disclose the motive which had instigated her to this
sudden rejection of a suit, she candidly acknowledged a mind less unambitious
than her own, unbiassed by more weighty arguments, might have acceded to with
pleasure; not doubting but when her aunt was thoroughly acquainted with the
whole of the circumstance, that she would finally applaud her conduct.
A promise,
administered in so solemn a manner to her last and dearest friend, in the
moment of approaching dissolution, appeared to the reflecting mind of the
dutiful Julie as an unsurmountable obstacle; and she could scarcely conceive it
possible that Madame Laronne, however destitute of religion herself, would
presume to descant upon the subject with her accustomed levity.
But she
soon discovered that this fondly cherished hope was delusive, and that little
was to be expected from the lenity of her offended relation, who perceiving
that the gentle measures, as she termed them, which had hitherto been adopted,
were not likely to avail, threatened to have recourse to more violent ones; not
neglecting to assure her, that more misfortunes would inevitably ensue from a
strict adherence to so ridiculous a vow, than from an actual breach of it. She
then expatiated with equal success upon the consequences of indulged
superstition, and the indispensable necessity of endeavouring to liberate the
mind from the shackles of vulgar prejudices, which, she concluded with
remarking, was considered by the discerning as the irrefragable testimony of an
exalted mind.
Fearful of
irritating her pride by a continued avowal of sentiments so dissimilar to her
own, Julie did not meditate a reply; but remained with her eyes fastened upon
the ground, whilst her cheek was one moment suffused with vermilion, and the
next faded into the paleness of the lily, as actuated by the revolving passions
of her mind.
Madame
Laronne, flattering herself that her niece was reconsidering the subject, and
that the arguments she had employed in defence of her favourite hypothesis,
were recalling her to rationality, pursued the discourse; and to add more
weight to what she had before advanced, stated the possibility of the Signor's
reformation being effected, should he fail in making her a convert to his own
creed, providing his attachment survived the matrimonial engagement; intimating
that whatever persuasion they embraced, it was unimportant, so long as it was
mutual.
Julie,
finding her aunt was falling into a new error, which, if not timely prevented,
might be productive of fresh evils, declared, that her resolution, however
singular, was unalterable, and that she desired nothing more ardently than to
have an opportunity of verbally convincing the Signor of her determination.
Astonished
at the firmness of character this avowal exhibited, and mortified that her
niece remained unsubdued by her arguments, and unmoved by her eloquence, Madame
Laronne descended from persuasion to invective, threatening her with the most
arbitrary proceedings if gentle ones continued inefficacious: then informing
her, that if she consented to what would contribute to her own happiness, she
was fortunate in having a relation who would guide her to the attainment of it;
but if she refused, that relation would compel her to accept the only
conditions which would eventually secure it. She darted an indignant look at
the affrighted Julie, and withdrew.
To be continued
