The White House Part 41

"No, monsieur; but it very rarely happens that strangers come here, for the valley is not on any well-travelled route, and the mountaineers who act as guides to travellers always avoid pa.s.sing the White House."

For a moment there was silence between the two young people. Edouard scrutinized the girl more closely; she watched her goats wandering about the hillside, and when from time to time she looked at Edouard, she smiled artlessly. It was not the smile of a coquette seeking to beguile, it was the smile of innocence which sees no peril in the pleasure to which it gives birth.

"I was told at Chadrat that reading is not your sole talent," said Edouard; "you sing also."

"Yes, monsieur, I often sing; I have nothing better to do! But I sing very badly, I imagine."

"Who can have taught you songs that are unknown in these mountains?"

A faint flush rose to Isaure's cheeks as she replied, lowering her eyes:

"It was a traveller who stayed some time with us."

"When your mother was alive?"

"Oh! yes, monsieur!"

Edouard said no more; in spite of himself vague suspicions a.s.sailed his mind. To dissipate them he glanced at the girl, whose every feature was so instinct with innocence. After several minutes pa.s.sed thus, he realized that he ought to return to the chateau, for he wished that his absence should not be noticed, or, at all events, to conceal the fact that he had been to Chadrat. So he rose and said to Isaure:

"I must leave you now."

"Already, monsieur?" said the girl ingenuously.

"What!" cried Edouard; "may I hope that my presence has given you some pleasure?"

"As I have told you, monsieur, I very seldom have an opportunity to talk with anyone here in the mountains."

"Oh! to be sure," said Edouard more coldly; "and that is the only reason?"

He interrupted himself, thinking:

"Well! one would suppose that I expected this girl to be in love with me already?--I preach at Alfred, and I am no better than he is."

"I will go down the mountain with you," said Isaure; "it is time for me to go home--my poor Vaillant must be tired."

She ran at once to collect her herd, and drove it toward the valley, skipping about and laughing heartily at every antic of her goats.

Edouard followed her, saying to himself:

"Her heart is calm and undisturbed; this frank gayety, this sweet unrestraint show that her mind is not burdened with thoughts of love.

Poor child! for her own good, I pray that she may never know that pa.s.sion, which causes more sorrow than pleasure!"

Edouard sighed; something whispered to him that he would be very glad to make that sorrow and that pleasure known to Isaure.

They reached the cottage, Isaure opened her door, and her dog ran out and leaped upon her; then he looked at Edouard and walked around him, but showed no temper.

"I believe that he recognizes you already," said the girl.

Edouard walked up to Vaillant and patted him a moment; the dog made no objection, but kept his eyes fixed on his mistress, as if to ask her whether the young man was a friend of hers.

"Good!" said Edouard, "I see that we shall be very good friends before long.--Adieu, charming Isaure! until to-morrow morning."

"Until to-morrow, Monsieur--Pardon me, but I do not know your name."

"My name is Edouard."

"Very well; until to-morrow, Monsieur Edouard, as you will not rest a moment under my roof to-day."

As she spoke, the girl curtsied gracefully to Edouard, then entered the house singing. The young man retraced his steps to La Roche-Noire, dreaming of the little goatherd.

"She is charming!" he said to himself again and again; "her manners, her voice, her artlessness--all are fascinating!--Oh! I am not going to fall in love with her--that would be foolish; but she is so interesting that I wish it were to-morrow morning already.--I won't tell Alfred that I have been to see her; he would be quite capable of doing the same thing.

Alfred is a reckless fellow; he would begin making love to the child at once. That would be an outrage, and I certainly would not permit it."

Poor Edouard! he did not propose to fall in love, and he was jealous already!--Ah! what is the sense of trying to resist a pa.s.sion so natural at his age? Only when the age of reason comes must we be on our guard against love, which, like the smallpox, is the more virulent the later in life it attacks you.

XIII

THE VAGRANT AGAIN

Edouard returned to the Chateau of La Roche-Noire, unmindful of the length of the walk he had taken. When a man is falling in love, he is so preoccupied that he is never bored; that is some slight recompense, at all events, for the torments which love sometimes causes.

Edouard met Alfred in the courtyard.

"You went out very early, did you not?" observed young De Marcey, gazing fixedly at his friend; "when I got up I asked for you, and they told me that you had been gone more than an hour. The devil! you are an early bird! I confess that last night's ball tired me a little; there's no end to those _bourrees_, and the damsels of Auvergne are no light weights.--I'll wager that I can guess where you've been--toward the White House, eh? You wanted to see little Isaure again?"

"No, I haven't been in that direction; I have been walking about the neighborhood; it's a lovely country.--Indeed, what is the sense of trying to see that young girl again? It seems to me that it is useless, to say the least."

"Useless to see a girl who's as pretty as the Loves! For my part, I think on the contrary that it's a most excellent way to employ one's time."

"It is just because she is so pretty that it may be a dangerous business. You especially, Alfred, who take fire so easily, would be capable of falling in love, that is to say, of taking a fancy to this village maiden.--I cannot think, however, that you intend to seduce her."

"You cannot think!--you cannot think!--Look here, my dear Edouard, do you propose to give me a course of moral lectures?--So far as I am concerned, I have no plans as yet; but still that little girl is pretty--I mean to see her again, and if she takes to me--faith, come what come may!--Where would be the harm, after all?"

"That girl is virtuous and innocent, and you would disturb her tranquillity! You would seek to arouse a sentiment which you will not feel a week, and then you would abandon her to her grief! That would be ghastly!"

"You are becoming romantic, Edouard.--In the first place, you say that this girl is virtuous--which is not absolutely demonstrated. Her peculiar situation--what people say about her--and the difference between her manners and those of her neighbors, give rise to many conjectures. But still, a.s.sume that she is virtuous--at any moment, some peasant, some clown, may fall in love with her and attract her; why then are you unwilling that I should try to be as fortunate as one of these country b.u.mpkins? Furthermore, my dear fellow, if we were always guided by such reflections, we should never have the least little love affair, and we should always go about with downcast eyes for fear of meeting a charming woman and of conceiving evil thoughts!--It would be magnificent, I agree; but what can you expect? perfection is not in human nature; our first parents yielded to temptation, and I shall never have the self-command to be more virtuous than they were!"

Edouard said no more; he would have liked to be able to conceal the vexation he felt, and he was about to leave Alfred, when Robineau appeared, followed by several workmen whom Francois had brought from the town.

"The thing to be done, my boys," said Robineau, "is to make this chateau over new--or, at least, something like it. The rooms are certainly too dark, the hangings too old, the windows too small, and the stairways too rickety. Repair, replace, pull down, paint, paste; and, above all things, work fast. I will pay you--like a grand seigneur.--Francois, show these fellows where to begin; you know my plans."

"What, my friend!" said Alfred; "are you going to repair the whole chateau?"

"No, not the whole of it; but at all events the part I shall occupy, and where I shall receive company. As for the North Tower, that may remain as it is; I shall never go there.--Next, we must dig up the whole garden and replant it. Do you suppose that I can receive the best society of Saint-Amand, and take them to walk among beet greens? I should give them a fine idea of my taste!--I am going to spend a lot of money, to be sure, but a rich marriage will repay it all."

"Are you thinking of marriage already?"