Lucile :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lucile

By Owen Meredith [i.e. E. R. B. Lytton]

Lytton, Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton (1831-1891)

[epigraph]

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

II.

CANTO II.

LETTER FROM LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE TO THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXIV.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

XXXVII.

III.

CANTO III.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

IV.

CANTO IV. LETTER FROM COUSIN JOHN TO COUSIN ALFRED.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

CANTO V.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

IX. THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS TO LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

VI.

CANTO VI.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

II.

PART II.

CANTO I.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

II.

CANTO II.

I. COUSIN JOHN TO COUSIN ALFRED.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

III.

CANTO III.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

IV.

CANTO IV.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

CANTO V.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

VI.

CANTO VI.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

XL.

XLI.

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139

V.

At that thought, from her aspect whatever had been
Stern or haughty departed; and, humbled in mien,
She approach'd him, and brokenly murmur'd, as tho'
To herself, more than him, ‘Was I wrong? is it so?
‘Hear me, Duke! you must feel that, whatever you deem
‘Your right to reproach me in this, your esteem
‘I may claim on one ground—I at least am sincere.
‘You say that to me from the first it was clear
‘That you loved me. But what if this knowledge were `known
‘At a moment in life when I felt most alone,
‘And least able to be so? a moment, in fact,
‘When I strove from one haunting regret to retract
‘And emancipate life, and once more to fulfil
‘Woman's destinies, duties, and hopes? would you still
‘So bitterly blame me, Eugène de Luvois,
‘If I hoped to see all this, or deem'd that I saw
‘For a moment the promise of this in the plighted
‘Affection of one who, in nature, united
‘So much that from others affection might claim,
‘If only affection were free? Do you blame
‘The hope of that moment? I deem'd my heart free
‘From all, saving sorrow. I deem'd that in me
‘There was yet strength to mould it once more to my will,
‘To uplift it once more to my hope. Do you still
‘Blame me, Duke, that I did not then bid you refrain
‘From hope? alas! I too then hoped!’

140

The Duke.
O again,
Yet again, say that thrice blessèd word! say, Lucile,
That you then deign'd to hope—

The Countess.
Yes! to hope I could feel,
And could give to you, that without which, all else given
Were but to deceive, and to injure you even:—
A heart free from thoughts of another. Say, then,
Do you blame that one hope?

The Duke.

O Lucile!
‘Say again,
She resumed, gazing down, and with faltering tone,
‘Do you blame me that, when I at last had to own
‘To my heart that the hope it had cherish'd was o'er,
‘And for ever, I said to you then, “Hope no more”?
‘I myself hoped no more!’

With but ill-suppress'd wrath
The Duke answer'd.. ‘What, then! he recrosses your path,
‘This man, and you have but to see him, despite
‘Of his troth to another, to take back that light
‘Worthless heart to your own, which he wrong'd years ago!’

Lucile faintly, brokenly murmur'd... ‘No! no!
‘'Tis not that—but—alas!—but I cannot conceal
‘That I have not forgotten the past—but I feel

141

‘That I cannot accept all these gifts on your part,—
‘Rank—wealth—love—esteem—in return for a heart
‘Which is only a ruin!’

With words warm and wild,
‘Tho’ a ruin it be, trust me yet to rebuild
‘And restore it,’ the Duke cried; ‘tho’ ruin'd it be,
‘Since so dear is that ruin, ah, yield it to me!’
He approach'd her. She shrank back. The grief in her eyes
Answer'd ‘No!’

An emotion more fierce seem'd to rise
And to break into flame, as tho' fired by the light
Of that look, in his heart. He exclaim'd, ‘Am I right?
‘You reject me! accept him?’

‘I have not done so,’
She said firmly. He hoarsely resumed, ‘Not yet—no!
‘But can you with accents as firm promise me
‘That you will not accept him?’

‘Accept? Is he free?
‘Free to offer?’ she said.

‘You evade me, Lucile,’
He replied; ‘ah, you will not avow what you feel!
‘He might make himself free? Oh you blush—turn away!
‘Dare you openly look in my face, lady, say!
‘While you deign to reply to one question from me?
‘I may hope not, you tell me: but tell me, may he?
‘What! silent? I alter my question. If quite
‘Freed in faith from this troth, might he hope then?’

‘He might,’
She said softly.