I April, 18
I have been fortunate enough to-day to spare Marguerite a moment’s annoyance, but poor Candid is dead.
I have just seen him die. Brave, noble horse! I loved him well!
George does not weep for him, he is in a stupid despair; he said to me in English, with a horrified look as he pointed to the expiring beast: “Ah, monsieur, to die like that! and never to have run against any one, never to have run a race!”
Poor Candid! his end was peaceful, he went down on his knees, then he fell over, two or three times he raised his noble head and opened his great bright eyes,—then he half closed them, gave a sigh, and was dead.
I never loved a horse so well, nor will I ever care for another one as I did for him, he was so intelligent and beautiful, he had so much energy and adroitness, besides being perfectly intrepid! He never balked at anything; was there an obstacle at the sight of which another horse would have hesitated, he came up to it proud, calm, and brave, and leaped over it as though it were play.
And then he looked so free and joyous under the bridle, one would have said that the valiant animal was under no restraint, but wore the bit as an ornament.
Poor Candid! his courage was my pride! Confiding in his strength, I dared to face dangers that otherwise would have affrighted me.
Trusting in his speed and stubborn energy, I accepted every wager. Poor Candid! it was his speed and stubborn energy that were the causes of his death.
He was the only horse I owned that could have done what he did, what very few would have attempted; he accomplished his task valiantly and gained me a smile from Marguerite.
Poor Candid! I did not know to what risk I exposed him, and now—I do not know whether I should have the courage to do it again. This is the cause of Candid’s death:
This morning we went with Don Luiz to see the Château of ——, that Marguerite wishes to purchase; this château is at a distance of three leagues and a half from Paris. In visiting the apartments I gave my arm to Marguerite, and we were followed by Don Luiz and the overseer of the château.
When we were in the library, we noticed a very fine portrait of a lady of the seventeenth century; the hands were adorable in their delicacy and beauty of form.
They were so adorable that they resembled Marguerite’s.
She denied it; so I begged her to take off her glove and let us compare her hands with those of the portrait. They were strikingly alike. How could I see such beautiful hands without kissing them?
We heard Don Luiz’s step, and we continued our examination of the library.
After seeing the château we returned to Paris. As Marguerite felt tired, she asked me to come and spend a quiet evening with her. I promised to do so.
When I arrived there I found her pale and sad; she was evidently quite overcome.
“What is the matter?” said I to her.
“You will laugh at me,”—she had tears in her eyes,—“but I have lost a bracelet that belonged to my mother; I had it on this morning. You know how I prize it, and will understand how grieved I am. I have sought for it everywhere. It is nowhere—nowhere!”
As she told me this, I remembered confusedly having seen, when Marguerite took off her glove, something that shone brilliantly, and which fell to the floor just as I was kissing her hand in the library, but, being so enchanted by the kiss, I paid no attention to anything else.
“I am so foolishly superstitious about the possession of that bracelet,” said Marguerite, “that I will be dreadfully unhappy if it is really lost, but what hope can I have? Have I any? Ah, pardon, my friend, for my showing such sorrow for anything which does not concern you, but if you only knew how much that bracelet meant to me— Ah, what a sad night I shall spend, how unhappy I shall be!”
There flashed through my mind one of those ideas that come to us when we are desperately in love. I had a very fast race-horse,—it was Candid; it was three leagues and a half from Paris to the Château of ——; the night was fine, the moon shone clear, the road was a splendid one. I wished to spare Marguerite not only a night, but an hour, even a few moments of grief, by finding out in the least time possible if the bracelet had been left in the library of ——, even at the risk of killing my horse.
“Pardon for my selfishness,” said I to Marguerite, “but your distress and the loss you have sustained have reminded me that I foolishly left the key in the lock of a little chest which contains important papers. I have every confidence in my valet de chambre, but others besides he might enter my room. Permit me, then, to write a note, that I will send back by the carriage, to tell him to get the key, and bring it to me.”
I wrote the following words:
“George is to saddle Candid instantly, he must go to the Château de —— and ask the overseer if he has not found a bracelet in the library. When George gets this note it will be ten o’clock, by eleven o’clock you must either bring the bracelet or the answer to the Hôtel de Pënâfiel.”
The letter was sent.
It was rather more than three leagues and a half to the Château de —— from Paris. He would have to travel seven leagues in an hour. Such a thing was possible with a horse like Candid, but it was a hundred to one that it would ruin him. Until ten o’clock I had sufficient control over myself to amuse Marguerite and take her mind off her loss.
Eleven o’clock struck, George had not returned. At five minutes past eleven a valet de chambre came in, bringing on a waiter a small package, which he presented to me.
It was Marguerite’s bracelet.
I cannot express the transports of joy with which I received it.
“You will pardon me,” I said to Marguerite, “the tardiness of my servants. Not knowing the value you set on that bracelet, I stole it from you, but seeing your extreme annoyance, I pretended that I had forgotten my key, and wrote to my valet de chambre to send me a little package that he would find in my coffer.”
“Oh, I have found it, I have found it! I forgive you!” cried Marguerite, in a transport of joy; then, holding out her hand, she added: “Ah, how kind you are to have taken pity on my weakness, and how I thank you for having sent to your house for the bracelet, in order to save me a few moments’ distress.”
I admit that, in spite of Marguerite’s joy and gratitude, I was horribly anxious when, at half-past eleven, I quitted the Hôtel de Pënâfiel. At midnight, my anxiety was all over. Poor Candid! He had just expired, I told George, by way of explanation, that I had laid a wager for three hundred louis that Candid could go to —— and back by night in an hour.