Traducción
Original
Capítulo XXV
Conversaciones de que el lector tomará lo que le agradare
Vuelta a su quinta Arabela, cavilaba en la aventura y en las consecuencias que podía tener. Tan consternada se hallaba que Glanville no se atrevía a hacerla pregunta alguna. Así que llegaron a la quinta, hubo una aclamación general. Carlota dejó su tocador a medio peinar, pero la observación que hizo Arabela disminuyó su gratitud: vio que la inquietud de su prima no había sido tanta que la hiciese olvidar sus adornos por algún tiempo. Arabela la respondió lacónicamente a las preguntas que la hicieron y mostró deseos de que la llevasen a su cuarto. Luego que Lucía se vio sola con su ama, derramó lágrimas e hizo extremos de alegría.
—Tengo –la dijo Arabela– violentas sospechas de tu fidelidad y deseo mucho que puedas justificarte.
Contó Lucía puntualmente cuanto había pasado desde su separación y contribuyó lo que dijo a sincerar a Glanville.
—Injusta fuera, querida Lucía, si no te volviese mi confianza y no titubeo en confesarte que quedé mortificadísima cuando juzgué culpado a Glanville. Te admirará esta debilidad, pero la tuve: no he podido aborrecerlo ni un solo instante.
—¡Aborrecer a Glanville, señora! Nunca os pase por el pensamiento, porque estoy cierta de que os ama, como si fuerais su propia hermana.
—Te prohíbo, Lucía, hablarme de su amor; pero te permito que lo hagas de las quejas que dirigía al cielo creyéndome perdida, de los votos que ofrecía por mi conservación y, en fin, de la desesperación a que lo condujo lo excesivo de su dolor.
—Os aseguro, señora, que nada de eso he visto.
—¡Pues cómo! ¿No lo vistes llorar? ¿No lo sorprendistes macerándose el pecho a golpes?
—No, señora, pero lo vi tristísimo y le oí decir que no pararía en toda la noche hasta hallaros.
—¡Ah, traidor! Su insensibilidad me ofende más que si fuese cómplice del que intentó robarme.
Mandó a Lucía que la desnudase prontamente y se acostó; el descanso la era necesarísimo, pero, ocupada toda su imaginación con la antecedente aventura, no pudo pegar los ojos y pasó una noche malísima. Glanville envió por la mañana a saber de su salud y tuvo una respuesta muy fría. Unos instantes después fue Carlota a tomar chocolate a su cuarto, preguntola mil cosas sobre el extraordinario suceso de la víspera y la contó, riendo a carcajadas, los absurdos que la había dicho Lucía. p. 101
—No puedo responder ahora a tus preguntas ni a tus chanzas: bástete saber que unos motivos poderosísimos me obligaron a lo que hice; cuando leas mi historia los graduarás y entonces te será fácil comprender las cosas que ahora miras como fábulas.
—¡Tu historia, prima! ¿Pues que la escribes?
—La escribiré seguramente, pero no se leerá hasta después de muerta yo.
—¿Y quieres que aguarde hasta entonces?
—No, no; antes satisfaré tu deseo, mas para cimentar mi confianza necesito la tuya.
—¡La mía! No tengo que contar cosas que merezcan componer una historia; para esto se necesitan sucesos y nada me ha sucedido de notable.
—Pero, ¿no has confesado haber tenido amantes?
—Y lo confieso: ¿qué concluyes de ahí? También te diré que amo generalmente a mis admiradores y que en ti es un efecto de ingratitud el tratar a mi hermano como lo tratas; cree que, entre cien hombres, no se hallará uno que sufra tus rigores con tanta paciencia como él.
—Eso significa que, entre cien hombres, no se encontrará uno que sea digno de servirme... Y ya que la casualidad ha promovido esta conversación, dime, ¿de qué rigores se queja? Lo he tratado mejor de lo que él se atrevió a esperar, pues he podido sufrir su presencia, habiendo tenido la temeridad de declararme su amor.
—¡Temerario mi hermano porque te amaba!
—No porque me amaba, sino porque se atrevió a decírmelo.
—¿Y en qué está el delito?
—Acuérdate de la vida de Mandana y verás que esas cosas no se perdonan: apenas perdonó una confesión semejante después de diez años de vencimientos y de servicios.
—¡Diez años! Esa dama no raciocinaba porque diez años son más que bastantes para desfigurar a una mujer. Si pretendes que te amen diez años en silencio y que después te cortejen otros diez, te predigo, prima mía, que te casarás muy añeja.
—¡Qué comunes son tus expresiones! No te enojes si las repito: «¡después que te cortejen!»..., «¡te casarás muy añeja!»... Ve ahí unas palabras muy mal sonantes... En fin, veamos qué tienes que decir a favor de Glanville.
—Como no es posible que mi hermano haya querido ofenderte, no lo justificaré, pero me consta que lo ha mortificado mucho el modo con que esta mañana respondistes a su cortesanía. ¿Qué ha hecho para que lo trates con tanta acritud?
—No es este el momento de explicarme: si Glanville quiere su perdón, procure merecerlo; consiento en concederle una audiencia a la que te suplicaré que asistas. No le dejes ignorar que a ti sola debe esta muestra de mi bondad.
Carlota, que sabía que su hermano deseaba ver a su prima, aceptó la proposición y fue a noticiárselo.
BOOK III
Chapter I
Two conversations, out of which the reader may pick up a great deal.
Arabella, continuing to ruminate upon her adventure during their little journey, appeared so low-spirited and reserved* that Mr. Glanville, though he ardently wished to know all the particulars of her flight and meeting with that gentleman, whose company he found her in, was obliged to suppress his curiosity for the present, out of a fear of displeasing her. As soon as they alighted at the [164] castle, her servants ran to receive her at the gates, expressing their joy to see her again, by a thousand confused exclamations.
Miss Glanville, being at her toilet when she heard of her arrival, ran down to welcome her, in her hurry forgetting that as her woman had been curling her hair, she had no cap on.
Arabella received her compliments with a little coolness; for, observing that her grief for her absence had not made her neglect any of her usual solicitude about her person, she could not perceive it had been very great. Therefore, when she had made some slight answer to the hundred questions she asked in a breath, she went up to her apartment; and, calling Lucy, who was crying with joy for her return, she questioned her strictly concerning her leaving her in the fields, acknowledging to her that she suspected her fidelity, though she wished at the same time she might be able to clear herself.
Lucy, in her justification, related, after her punctual way, all that had happened, by which Arabella was convinced she had not betrayed her, and was also in some doubt whether Mr. Glanville was guilty of any design against her.
“Since,” said she to Lucy, “thou art restored to my good opinion, I will, as I have always done, unmask my thoughts to thee. I confess then, with shame and confusion, that I cannot think of Mr. Glanville’s assisting the unknown to carry me away, without resenting a most poignant grief. Questionless, my weakness will surprise thee; and could I conceal it [165] from myself, I would from thee? But, alas! It is certain that I do not hate him; and I believe I never shall, guilty as he may be in my apprehensions.”
“Hate him, madam!” said Lucy. “God forbid you should ever hate Mr. Glanville, who, I am sure, loves your ladyship as well as he does his own sister!”
“You are very confident, Lucy,” said Arabella blushing, “to mention the word ‘love’ to me. If I thought my cousin had bribed thee to it, I should be greatly incensed. However, though I forbid you to talk of his passion, yet I permit you to tell me the violence of his transports when I was missing; the threats he uttered against my ravishers; the complaints he made against fortune; the vows he offered for my preservation; and, in fine, whatever extravagances the excess of his sorrow forced him to commit.”p. 121
“I assure you, madam,” said Lucy, “I did not hear him say any of all this.”
“What!” interrupted Arabella. “And didst thou not observe the tears trickle from his eyes, which, haply, he strove to conceal? Did he not strike his bosom with the vehemence of his grief; and cast his accusing and despairing eyes to heaven, which had permitted such a misfortune to befall me?”
“Indeed, madam, I did not,” resumed Lucy. “But he seemed to be very sorry, and said he would go and look for your ladyship.”
“Ah! The traitor!” interrupted Arabella in a rage. “Fain would I have found out some excuse for him, and justified him in my apprehensions; [166] but he is unworthy of these favourable thoughts. Speak of him no more, I command you. He is guilty of assisting my ravisher to carry me away, and therefore merits my eternal displeasure. But though I could find reasons to clear him even of that crime, yet he is guilty of indifference and insensibility for my loss, since he neither died with grief at the news of it; nor needed the interposition of his sister, or the desire of delivering me, to make him live.”
Arabella, when she had said this, was silent, but could not prevent some tears stealing down her fair face. Therefore, to conceal her uneasiness, or to be at more liberty to indulge it, she ordered Lucy to make haste and undress her; and, going to bed, passed the small remainder of the night, not in rest, which she very much needed, but in reflections on all the passages of the preceding day. And finding, or imagining she found, new reasons for condemning Mr. Glanville, her mind was very far from being at ease.
In the morning, lying later than usual, she received a message from Mr. Glanville, enquiring after her health, to which she answered that he was too little concerned in the preservation of it, to make it necessary to acquaint him.
Miss Glanville soon after sent to desire permission to drink her chocolate by her bedside, which, as she could not in civility refuse, she was very much perplexed how to hide her melancholy from the eyes of that discerning lady, who, she questioned not, would interpret it in favour of her brother.
[167] Upon Miss Glanville’s appearance, she forced herself to assume a cheerful look, asking her pardon for receiving her in bed; and complaining of bad rest, which had occasioned her lying late.
Miss Glanville, after answering her compliments with almost equal politeness, proceeded to ask her a hundred questions concerning the cause of her absence from the castle:
“Your woman,” pursued she, laughing, “told us a strange medley of stuff about a great man, who was a gardener, and wanted to carry you away. Sure there was nothing in it! Was there?”p. 122
“You must excuse me, cousin,” said Arabella, “if I do not answer your questions precisely now. It is sufficient that I tell you, certain reasons obliged me to act in the manner I did, for my own preservation; and that, another time, you shall know my history, which will explain many things you seem to be surprised at, at present.”
“Your history!” said Miss Glanville. “Why, will you write your own history then?”
“I shall not write it,” said Arabella. “Though, questionless, it will be written after my death.”
“And must I wait till then for it?” resumed Miss Glanville, gaily.
“No, no,” interrupted Arabella, “I mean to gratify your curiosity sooner; but it will not be yet a good time; and, haply, not till you have acquainted me with yours.”
“Mine!” said Miss Glanville. “It would not be worth your hearing, for really I have nothing to tell that would make a history.”
[168] “You have, questionless,” returned Arabella, “gained many victories over hearts; have occasioned many quarrels between your servants, by favouring some one more than the others. Probably you have caused some bloodshed, and have not escaped being carried away once or twice. You have also, I suppose, undergone some persecution from those who have the disposal of you, in favour of a lover whom you have an aversion to; and lastly, there is haply someone among your admirers, who is happy enough not to be hated by you.”
“I assure you,” interrupted Miss Glanville, “I hate none of my admirers, and I can’t help thinking you very unkind to use my brother as you do. I am sure, there is not one man in a hundred that would take so much from your hands as he does.”
“Then there is not one man in a hundred,” resumed Arabella, “whom I should think worthy to serve me. But pray, madam, what ill usage is it your brother complains of? I have treated him with much less severity than he had reason to expect; and, notwithstanding he had the presumption to talk to me of love, I have endured him in my sight, an indulgence for which I may haply be blamed in after ages.”
“Why, sure, Lady Bella,” said Miss Glanville, “it would be no such crime for my brother to love you!”
“But it was a mortal crime to tell me so,” interrupted Arabella.
“And why was it such a mortal crime to tell you so?” said Miss Glanville. “Are you the first woman by millions that has been told so?”
[169] “Doubtless,” returned Arabella, “I am the first woman of my quality that ever was told so by any man till after an infinite number of services and secret sufferings. And truly I am of the illustrious Mandana’s mind; for she said that she should think it an unpardonable presumption, for the greatest king on earth to tell her he loved her, though after ten years of the most faithful services, and concealed torments.”
“Ten years!” cried out Miss Glanville, in amazement. “Did she consider what alterations ten years would make in her face, and how much older she would be at the end of ten years, than she was before?”p. 123
“Truly,” said Arabella, “it is not usual to consider such little matters so nicely. One never has the idea of a heroine older than eighteen, though her history begins at that age, and the events which compose it contain the space of twenty more.”
“But, dear cousin,” resumed Miss Glanville, “do you resolve to be ten years a-courting?* Or rather, will you be loved in silence ten years, and be courted the other ten, and so marry when you are an old woman?”
“Pardon me, cousin,” resumed Arabella. “I must really find fault with the coarseness of your language. ‘Courting,’ and ‘old woman’! What strange terms! Let us, I beseech you, end this dispute. If you have anything to say in justification of your brother, which, I suppose, was the chief intention of your visit, I shall not be rude enough to restrain you, though I could wish you would not lay me under the necessity [170] of hearing what I cannot persuade myself to believe.”
“Since,” returned Miss Glanville, “I know of no crime my brother has been guilty of, I have nothing to say in his justification. I only know that he is very much mortified at the message you sent him this morning, for I was with him when he received it. But pray, what has he done to offend you?”
“If Mr. Glanville,” interrupted Arabella, “hopes for my pardon, he must purchase it by his repentance and a sincere confession of his fault, which you may much better understand from himself, than from me. And, for this purpose, I will condescend to grant him a private audience, at which I desire you would be present; and also, I should take it well if you will let him know that he owes this favour wholly to your interposition.”
Miss Glanville, who knew her brother was extremely desirous of seeing Arabella, was glad to accept of these strange terms; and left her chamber, in order to acquaint him with that lady’s intentions.