'The Chevalier and my son,' said he, 'were introduced to each other, at the table of a brother officer, at whose house I also met him, and invited him to my own, whenever he should be disengaged.I did not then know, that he had formed an acquaintance with a set of men, a disgrace to their species, who live by plunder and pass their lives in continual debauchery.I knew several of the Chevalier's family, resident at Paris, and considered them as sufficient pledges for his introduction to my own.But you are ill; I will leave the subject.'--'No, sir,' said Emily, 'I beg you will proceed: I am only distressed.'--'ONLY!' said the Count, with emphasis; 'however, I will proceed.I soon learned, that these, his associates, had drawn him into a course of dissipation, from which he appeared to have neither the power, nor the inclination, to extricate himself.He lost large sums at the gaming-table; he became infatuated with play; and was ruined.I spoke tenderly of this to his friends, who assured me, that they had remonstrated with him, till they were weary.Iafterwards learned, that, in consideration of his talents for play, which were generally successful, when unopposed by the tricks of villany,--that in consideration of these, the party had initiated him into the secrets of their trade, and allotted him a share of their profits.' 'Impossible!' said Emily suddenly; 'but--pardon me, sir, Iscarcely know what I say; allow for the distress of my mind.I must, indeed, I must believe, that you have not been truly informed.The Chevalier had, doubtless, enemies, who misrepresented him.'--'Ishould be most happy to believe so,' replied the Count, 'but Icannot.Nothing short of conviction, and a regard for your happiness, could have urged me to repeat these unpleasant reports.'
Emily was silent.She recollected Valancourt's sayings, on the preceding evening, which discovered the pangs of self-reproach, and seemed to confirm all that the Count had related.Yet she had not fortitude enough to dare conviction.Her heart was overwhelmed with anguish at the mere suspicion of his guilt, and she could not endure a belief of it.After a silence, the Count said, 'I perceive, and can allow for, your want of conviction.It is necessary I should give some proof of what I have asserted; but this I cannot do, without subjecting one, who is very dear to me, to danger.'--'What is the danger you apprehend, sir?' said Emily; 'if I can prevent it, you may safely confide in my honour.'--'On your honour I am certain I can rely,' said the Count; 'but can I trust your fortitude? Do you think you can resist the solicitation of a favoured admirer, when he pleads, in affliction, for the name of one, who has robbed him of a blessing?'--'I shall not be exposed to such a temptation, sir,' said Emily, with modest pride, 'for I cannot favour one, whom I must no longer esteem.I, however, readily give my word.' Tears, in the mean time, contradicted her first assertion; and she felt, that time and effort only could eradicate an affection, which had been formed on virtuous esteem, and cherished by habit and difficulty.
'I will trust you then,' said the Count, 'for conviction is necessary to your peace, and cannot, I perceive, be obtained, without this confidence.My son has too often been an eye-witness of the Chevalier's ill conduct; he was very near being drawn in by it; he was, indeed, drawn in to the commission of many follies, but Irescued him from guilt and destruction.Judge then, Mademoiselle St.
Aubert, whether a father, who had nearly lost his only son by the example of the Chevalier, has not, from conviction, reason to warn those, whom he esteems, against trusting their happiness in such hands.I have myself seen the Chevalier engaged in deep play with men, whom I almost shuddered to look upon.If you still doubt, Iwill refer you to my son.'
'I must not doubt what you have yourself witnessed,' replied Emily, sinking with grief, 'or what you assert.But the Chevalier has, perhaps, been drawn only into a transient folly, which he may never repeat.If you had known the justness of his former principles, you would allow for my present incredulity.'
'Alas!' observed the Count, 'it is difficult to believe that, which will make us wretched.But I will not sooth you by flattering and false hopes.We all know how fascinating the vice of gaming is, and how difficult it is, also, to conquer habits; the Chevalier might, perhaps, reform for a while, but he would soon relapse into dissipation--for I fear, not only the bonds of habit would be powerful, but that his morals are corrupted.And--why should Iconceal from you, that play is not his only vice? he appears to have a taste for every vicious pleasure.'
The Count hesitated and paused; while Emily endeavoured to support herself, as, with increasing perturbation, she expected what he might further say.A long pause of silence ensued, during which he was visibly agitated; at length, he said, 'It would be a cruel delicacy, that could prevail with me to be silent--and I will inform you, that the Chevalier's extravagance has brought him twice into the prisons of Paris, from whence he was last extricated, as I was told upon authority, which I cannot doubt, by a well-known Parisian Countess, with whom he continued to reside, when I left Paris.'
He paused again; and, looking at Emily, perceived her countenance change, and that she was falling from the seat; he caught her, but she had fainted, and he called loudly for assistance.They were, however, beyond the hearing of his servants at the chateau, and he feared to leave her while he went thither for assistance, yet knew not how otherwise to obtain it; till a fountain at no great distance caught his eye, and he endeavoured to support Emily against the tree, under which she had been sitting, while he went thither for water.