Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3) Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  Such was the wild series of Martinette's adventures. Each incidentfastened on the memory of Constantia, and gave birth to numberlessreflections. Her prospect of mankind seemed to be enlarged, on a sudden,to double its ancient dimensions. Ormond's narratives had carried herbeyond the Mississippi, and into the deserts of Siberia. He hadrecounted the perils of a Russian war, and painted the manners ofMongols and Naudowessies. Her new friend had led her back to thecivilized world and portrayed the other half of the species. Men, intheir two forms of savage and refined, had been scrutinized by theseobservers; and what was wanting in the delineations of the one wasliberally supplied by the other.

  Eleven years in the life of Martinette was unrelated. Her conversationsuggested the opinion that this interval had been spent in France. Itwas obvious to suppose that a woman thus fearless and sagacious had notbeen inactive at a period like the present, which called forth talentsand courage without distinction of sex, and had been particularlydistinguished by female enterprise and heroism. Her name easily led tothe suspicion of concurrence with the subverters of monarchy, and ofparticipation in their fall. Her flight from the merciless tribunals ofthe faction that now reigned would explain present appearances.

  Martinette brought to their next interview an air of uncommonexultation. On this being remarked, she communicated the tidings of thefall of the sanguinary tyranny of Robespierre. Her eyes sparkled, andevery feature was pregnant with delight, while she unfolded, with heraccustomed energy, the particulars of this tremendous revolution. Theblood which it occasioned to flow was mentioned without any symptoms ofdisgust or horror.

  Constantia ventured to ask if this incident was likely to influence herown condition.

  "Yes. It will open the way for my return."

  "Then you think of returning to a scene of so much danger?"

  "Danger, my girl? It is my element. I am an adorer of liberty, andliberty without peril can never exist."

  "But so much bloodshed and injustice! Does not your heart shrink fromthe view of a scene of massacre and tumult, such as Paris has latelyexhibited and will probably continue to exhibit?"

  "Thou talkest, Constantia, in a way scarcely worthy of thy good sense.Have I not been three years in a camp? What are bleeding wounds andmangled corpses, when accustomed to the daily sight of them for years?Am I not a lover of liberty? and must I not exult in the fall oftyrants, and regret only that my hand had no share in theirdestruction?"

  "But a woman--how can the heart of woman be inured to the shedding ofblood?"

  "Have women, I beseech thee, no capacity to reason and infer? Are theyless open than men to the influence of habit? My hand never falteredwhen liberty demanded the victim. If thou wert with me at Paris, I couldshow thee a fusil of two barrels, which is precious beyond any otherrelic, merely because it enabled me to kill thirteen officers atJemappe. Two of these were emigrant nobles, whom I knew and loved beforethe Revolution, but the cause they had since espoused cancelled theirclaims to mercy."

  "What!" said the startled Constantia; "have you fought in the ranks?"

  "Certainly. Hundreds of my sex have done the same. Some were impelled bythe enthusiasm of love, and some by a mere passion for war; some by thecontagion of example; and some--with whom I myself must be ranked--by agenerous devotion to liberty. Brunswick and Saxe-Coburg had to contendwith whole regiments of women,--regiments they would have formed, ifthey had been collected into separate bodies.

  "I will tell thee a secret. Thou wouldst never have seen Martinette deBeauvais, if Brunswick had deferred one day longer his orders forretreating into Germany."

  "How so?"

  "She would have died by her own hand."

  "What could lead to such an outrage?"

  "The love of liberty."

  "I cannot comprehend how that love should prompt you to suicide."

  "I will tell thee. The plan was formed, and could not miscarry. A womanwas to play the part of a banished Royalist, was to repair to thePrussian camp, and to gain admission to the general. This would haveeasily been granted to a female and an ex-noble. There she was toassassinate the enemy of her country, and to attest her magnanimity byslaughtering herself. I was weak enough to regret the ignominiousretreat of the Prussians, because it precluded the necessity of such asacrifice."

  This was related with accents and looks that sufficiently attested itstruth. Constantia shuddered, and drew back, to contemplate moredeliberately the features of her guest. Hitherto she had read in themnothing that bespoke the desperate courage of a martyr and the deepdesigning of an assassin. The image which her mind had reflected fromthe deportment of this woman was changed. The likeness which she had,feigned to herself was no longer seen. She felt that antipathy waspreparing to displace love. These sentiments, however, she concealed,and suffered the conversation to proceed.

  Their discourse now turned upon the exploits of several women whomingled in the tumults of the capital and in the armies on thefrontiers. Instances were mentioned of ferocity in some, and magnanimityin others, which almost surpassed belief. Constantia listened greedily,though not with approbation, and acquired, at every sentence, new desireto be acquainted with the personal history of Martinette. On mentioningthis wish, her friend said that she endeavoured to amuse her exile bycomposing her own memoirs, and that, on her next visit, she would bringwith her the volume, which she would suffer Constantia to read.

  A separation of a week elapsed. She felt some impatience for the renewalof their intercourse, and for the perusal of the volume that had beenmentioned. One evening Sarah Baxter, whom Constantia had placed in herown occasional service, entered the room with marks of great joy andsurprise, and informed her that she at length had discovered MissMonrose. From her abrupt and prolix account, it appeared that Sarah hadovertaken Miss Monrose in the street, and, guided by her own curiosity,as well as by the wish to gratify her mistress, she had followed thestranger. To her utter astonishment, the lady had paused at Mr. Dudley'sdoor, with a seeming resolution to enter it, but presently resumed herway. Instead of pursuing her steps farther, Sarah had stopped tocommunicate this intelligence to Constantia. Having delivered her news,she hastened away, but, returning, in a moment, with a countenance ofnew surprise, she informed her mistress that on leaving the house shehad met Miss Monrose at the door, on the point of entering. She addedthat the stranger had inquired for Constantia, and was now waitingbelow.

  Constantia took no time to reflect upon an incident so unexpected and sostrange, but proceeded forthwith to the parlour. Martinette only wasthere. It did not instantly occur to her that this lady and MademoiselleMonrose might possibly be the same. The inquiries she made speedilyremoved her doubts, and it now appeared that the woman about whosedestiny she had formed so many conjectures and fostered so much anxietywas no other than the daughter of Roselli.

  Having readily answered her questions, Martinette inquired, in her turn,into the motives of her friend's curiosity. These were explained by asuccinct account of the transactions to which the deceased Baxter hadbeen a witness. Constantia concluded with mentioning her own reflectionson the tale, and intimating her wish to be informed how Martinette hadextricated herself from a situation so calamitous.

  "Is there any room for wonder on that head?" replied the guest. "It wasabsurd to stay longer in the house. Having finished the interment ofRoselli, (soldier-fashion,) for he was the man who suffered his foolishregrets to destroy him, I forsook the house. Roselli was by no meanspoor, but he could not consent to live at ease, or to live at all, whilehis country endured such horrible oppressions, and when so many of hisfriends had perished. I complied with his humour, because it could notbe changed, and I revered him too much to desert him."

  "But whither," said Constantia, "could you seek shelter at a time likethat? The city was desolate, and a wandering female could scarcely bereceived under any roof. All inhabited houses were closed at that hour,and the fear of infection would have shut them against you if they hadnot been alrea
dy so."

  "Hast thou forgotten that there were at that time at least ten thousandFrench in this city, fugitives from Marat and from St. Domingo? Thatthey lived in utter fearlessness of the reigning disease,--sung andloitered in the public walks, and prattled at their doors, with alltheir customary unconcern? Supposest thou that there were none amongthese who would receive a countrywoman, even if her name had not beenMartinette de Beauvais? Thy fancy has depicted strange things; butbelieve me that, without a farthing and without a name, I should nothave incurred the slightest inconvenience. The death of Roselli Iforesaw, because it was gradual in its approach, and was sought by himas a good. My grief, therefore, was exhausted before it came, and Irejoiced at his death, because it was the close of all his sorrows. Therueful pictures of my distress and weakness which were given by Baxterexisted only in his own fancy."

  Martinette pleaded an engagement, and took her leave, professing to havecome merely to leave with her the promised manuscript. This interview,though short, was productive of many reflections on the deceitfulness ofappearances, and on the variety of maxims by which the conduct of humanbeings is regulated. She was accustomed to impart all her thoughts andrelate every new incident to her father. With this view she now hied tohis apartment. This hour it was her custom, when disengaged, always tospend with him.

  She found Mr. Dudley busy in revolving a scheme which variouscircumstances had suggested and gradually conducted to maturity. Noperiod of his life had been equally delightful with that portion of hisyouth which he had spent in Italy. The climate, the language, themanners of the people, and the sources of intellectual gratification inpainting and music, were congenial to his taste. He had reluctantlyforsaken these enchanting seats, at the summons of his father, but, onhis return to his native country, had encountered nothing but ignominyand pain. Poverty and blindness had beset his path, and it seemed as ifit were impossible to fly too far from the scene of his disasters. Hismisfortunes could not be concealed from others, and every thing aroundhim seemed to renew the memory of all that he had suffered. All theevents of his youth served to entice him to Italy, while all theincidents of his subsequent life concurred to render disgustful hispresent abode.

  His daughter's happiness was not to be forgotten. This he imagined wouldbe eminently promoted by the scheme. It would open to her new avenues toknowledge. It would snatch her from the odious pursuit of Ormond, and,by a variety of objects and adventures, efface from her mind anyimpression which his dangerous artifices might have made upon it.

  This project was now communicated to Constantia. Every argument adaptedto influence her choice was employed. He justly conceived that the onlyobstacle to her adoption of it related to Ormond. He expatiated on thedubious character of this man, the wildness of his schemes, and themagnitude of his errors. What could be expected from a man, half ofwhose life had been spent at the head of a band of Cossacks, spreadingdevastation in the regions of the Danube, and supporting by flagitiousintrigues the tyranny of Catharine, and the other half in traversinginhospitable countries, and extinguishing what remained of clemency andjustice by intercourse with savages?

  It was admitted that his energies were great, but misdirected, and thatto restore them to the guidance of truth was not in itself impossible;but it was so with relation to any power that she possessed. Conformitywould flow from their marriage, but this conformity was not to beexpected from him. It was not his custom to abjure any of his doctrinesor recede from any of his claims. She knew likewise the conditions oftheir union. She must go with him to some corner of the world where hisboasted system was established. What was the road to it he had carefullyconcealed, but it was evident that it lay beyond the precincts ofcivilized existence.

  Whatever were her ultimate decision, it was at least proper to delay it.Six years were yet wanting of that period at which only she formerlyconsidered marriage as proper. To all the general motives for deferringher choice, the conduct of Ormond superadded the weightiest. Theircorrespondence might continue, but her residence in Europe and conversewith mankind might enlighten her judgement and qualify her for a morerational decision.

  Constantia was not uninfluenced by these reasonings. Instead ofreluctantly admitting them, she somewhat wondered that they had not beensuggested by her own reflections. Her imagination anticipated herentrance on that mighty scene with emotions little less than rapturous.Her studies had conferred a thousand ideal charms on a theatre whereScipio and Caesar had performed their parts. Her wishes were no lessimportunate to gaze upon the Alps and Pyrenees, and to vivify andchasten the images collected from books, by comparing them with theirreal prototypes.

  No social ties existed to hold her to America. Her only kinsman andfriend would be the companion of her journeys. This project was likewiserecommended by advantages of which she only was qualified to judge.Sophia Westwyn had embarked, four years previous to this date, forEngland, in company with an English lady and her husband. Thearrangements that were made forbade either of the friends to hope for afuture meeting. Yet now, by virtue of this project, this meeting seemedno longer to be hopeless.

  This burst of new ideas and now hopes on the mind of Constantia tookplace in the course of a single hour. No change in her externalsituation had been wrought, and yet her mind had undergone the mostsignal revolution. Tho novelty as well as greatness of the prospect kepther in a state of elevation and awe, more ravishing than any she hadever experienced. Anticipations of intercourse with nature in her mostaugust forms, with men in diversified states of society, with theposterity of Greeks and Romans, and with the actors that were now uponthe stage, and, above all, with the being whom absence and the want ofother attachments had, in some sort, contributed to deify, made thisnight pass away upon the wings of transport.

  The hesitation which existed on parting with her father speedily gaveplace to an ardour impatient of the least delay. She saw no impedimentsto the immediate commencement of the voyage. To delay it a month, oreven a week, seemed to be unprofitable tardiness. In this ferment of herthoughts, she was neither able nor willing to sleep. In arranging themeans of departure and anticipating the events that would successivelyarise, there was abundant food for contemplation.

  She marked the first dawnings of the day, and rose. She felt reluctanceto break upon her father's morning slumbers, but considered that hermotives were extremely urgent, and that the pleasure afforded him by herzealous approbation of his scheme would amply compensate him for thisunseasonable intrusion on his rest. She hastened therefore to hischamber. She entered with blithesome steps, and softly drew aside thecurtain.