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Lucile

By Owen Meredith [i.e. E. R. B. Lytton]
Lytton, Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton (1831-1891)
  
[epigraph]

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LUCILE.
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PART I.
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CANTO I.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
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CANTO II.
 I. 
I.
LETTER FROM LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE TO THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.
 XXX. 
XXX.
 XXXI. 
XXXI.
 XXXII. 
XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII.
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CANTO III.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
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CANTO IV. LETTER FROM COUSIN JOHN TO COUSIN ALFRED.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
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X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
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CANTO V.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX. THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS TO LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVI. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
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CANTO VI.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
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PART II.
collapse sectionI. 
CANTO I.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.
 XXX. 
XXX.
 XXXI. 
XXXI.
 XXXII. 
XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
XXXV.
collapse sectionII. 
CANTO II.
 I. 
I. COUSIN JOHN TO COUSIN ALFRED.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
collapse sectionIII. 
CANTO III.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
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V.
 VI. 
VI.
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VII.
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VIII.
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IX.
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X.
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XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
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CANTO IV.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
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V.
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VI.
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VII.
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VIII.
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IX.
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X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
collapse sectionV. 
CANTO V.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
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V.
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VI.
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VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
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IX.
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X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
collapse sectionVI. 
CANTO VI.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
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V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
 XXIV. 
XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV.
 XXVI. 
XXVI.
 XXVII. 
XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.
 XXX. 
XXX.
 XXXI. 
XXXI.
 XXXII. 
XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX.
 XL. 
XL.
 XLI. 
XLI.

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XXIV.

The Countess.
Comment, Monsieur le Duc?

The Duke.
Ah, forgive! . . . I desired
So deeply to see you to-day. You retired
So early last night from the ball . . . this whole week
I have seen you pale, silent, preoccupied . . . speak,
Speak, Lucile, and forgive me! . . . I know that I am
A rash fool—but I love you! I love you, Madame,
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More than language can say! Do not deem, O Lucile,
That the love I no longer have strength to conceal
Is a passing caprice! It is strange to my nature,
It has made me, unknown to myself, a new creature.
It is not the Duke de Luvois that here kneels
To the Countess Lucile. 'Tis a soul that appeals
To a soul, 'tis a heart that cries out for a heart,
'Tis the man you yourself have created in part,
That implores you to sanction and save the new life
Which he lays at your feet with this prayer—Be my wife;
Stoop, and raise me!
Lord Alfred could scarcely restrain
The sudden, acute pang of anger and pain
With which he had heard this. As tho' to some wind
The leaves of the hush'd, windless laurels behind
The Duke and the Countess were suddenly stirr'd.
The sound half betray'd him. They started. He heard
The low voice of Lucile; but so faint was its tone
That her answer escaped him.
The Duke hurried on,
As though in remonstrance with what had been spoken.
‘Nay, I know it, Lucile! but your heart was not broken
‘By the trial in which all its fibres were proved.
‘Love, perchance, you mistrust, yet you need to be loved.
‘You mistake your own feelings. I fear you mistake
‘What so ill I interpret, those feelings which make
‘Words like these vague and feeble. Whatever your heart
‘May have suffer'd of yore, this can only impart
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‘A pity profound to the love which I feel.
‘Hush! hush! I know all. Tell me nothing, Lucile.’
‘You know all, Duke?’ she said; ‘well then, know that, in truth,
‘I have learn'd from the rude lesson taught to my youth
‘From my own heart to shelter my life; to mistrust
‘The heart of another. We are what we must,
‘And not what we would be. I know that one hour
‘Forestalls not another. The will and the power
‘Are diverse.’
‘O, madam!’ he answer'd, ‘you fence
‘With a feeling you know to be true and intense.
‘'Tis not my life, Lucile, that I plead for alone:
‘If your nature I know, 'tis no less for your own.
‘That nature will prey on itself; it was made
‘To influence others. Consider,’ he said,
‘You have genius, ambition—what scope for them here?
‘Gifts less noble to me give command of that sphere
‘In which genius is power. Such gifts you despise?
‘But you do not disdain what such gifts realise!
‘I offer you, Lady, a name not unknown—
‘A fortune which worthless, without you, is grown—
‘All my life at your feet I lay down—at your feet
‘A heart which for you, and you only, can beat.’

The Countess.
That heart, Duke, that life—I respect both. The name
And position you offer, and all that you claim
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In behalf of their nobler employment, I feel
To deserve what, in turn, I now ask you—

The Duke.
Lucile!

The Countess.
I ask you to leave me—

The Duke.
You do not reject?

The Countess.
I ask you to leave me the time to reflect.

The Duke.
You ask me?—

The Countess.
—The time to reflect.

The Duke.
Say—One word!
May I hope?
What the Countess replied was not heard
By Lord Alfred; for just then she rose, and moved on.
The Duke bow'd his lips o'er her hand, and was gone.

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