The White House Part 59

"Why, in whose power are you then?" cried Edouard; "who can have any authority over you?"

Isaure looked down and made no reply. Edouard's brow darkened; a thousand suspicions sprang up in his mind; the love which gleamed in his eyes gave place to distrust and anger. He rose, walked away from the girl, who remained seated at the foot of the tree, then said at last in a tone which he tried to make indifferent.

"Well, mademoiselle, since you do not deem me worthy of your confidence, I will not presume to ask you any more questions. I thought that I had your love, I hoped to make you happy; I was mistaken; I will try to forget all my plans!"

The girl said nothing. Edouard walked still farther away; but surprised by her silence, he turned to look at her once more. Isaure's pretty face was bathed in the tears which flowed freely from her eyes. At that sight, Edouard was soon by her side; he threw himself at her feet, and covered her hands with kisses, crying:

"You are weeping! and it is I who am the cause of it! Oh! forgive me, dear Isaure; pardon my unjust suspicions!"

"You think that I do not love you!" said the girl, sobbing.

"I have grieved you! Ah! am I not too fortunate to have won your love?

How I repent having caused your tears to flow! Hereafter I will not seek to know your secrets, I will not ask you any more questions. You love me! What more can I ask?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Isaure, while a smile appeared beneath her tears, "I shall always love you, for I do not think that it is possible to change.

Forgive me for not telling you everything that concerns me. Ah! I would like to! but the secret does not belong to me. Some day perhaps I shall have no more secrets from you; and before long, no doubt, I shall know whether I can be your wife, whether I may be permitted to go with you whereever you go. As for my heart, it is yours; you know very well that I cannot take it away from you again."

The sweet child pressed Edouard's hand lovingly, and had no hesitation in showing him all the pleasure it gave her to love him; but it did not occur to Edouard to abuse her confidence, for he too loved sincerely.

The time pa.s.ses quickly with two lovers who still have mutual pleasures to bestow; Edouard noticed at last that it was more than time that he should return to the chateau. He tore himself away with difficulty from her whom he loved, saying to her tenderly:

"Until to-morrow."

"Until to-morrow," said Isaure. "Remember that you have accustomed me to see you, that the time seems very long to me when I am not with you; and now that I have admitted that I love you, I would like to tell you so every day!"

Edouard took the girl's hand, held it to his heart and said:

"May it be that before long I shall never be obliged to leave you!"

He remounted his horse, waved his hand to Isaure, who stood in her doorway, then rode back toward the chateau. But, in spite of himself, he could not help turning his head to look at the White House; and although he had promised the girl not to worry about what she concealed from him, and not to conceive unjust suspicions, he felt a weight at his heart as he gazed at that deserted house, and he said to himself with a sigh:

"What can be the reason that prevents her from going away from this place?"

XX

HYMENEAL PLANS

On rising, on the day following the fete, Alfred went to Edouard's apartment; not finding him there, or in the chateau, or in the gardens, Alfred felt a.s.sured, that disregarding their agreement, Edouard had gone without him to see Isaure. He was furious, he cursed his sleep, he was on the point of mounting and riding into the mountains after him. But he reflected that the morning was already far advanced and that Edouard, who had started some time before, was doubtless on his way back. He decided to wait in order that he might have an explanation with him the sooner.

While Alfred impatiently paced the gallery which looked over the country, Robineau, who had just risen, was devoting special care to his toilet. At last he came forth with a self-satisfied air, and said to the young baron, smiling blandly:

"Good-morning, my dear Alfred!"

"Good-morning!" replied the other shortly, continuing to stride back and forth.

"Parbleu! I am very glad to find you this morning, which rarely happens; for ordinarily you and the poet are up before Phbus. Ha! ha! Being with that devil of a Ferulus, I am getting into the habit of speaking in metaphors altogether.--But let us come to what I want to say to you. You are not listening to me, Alfred!"

"Yes, yes, I am listening to you; speak on."

"Well, my friend, I will tell you then that during the day yesterday, I--By the way, what did you think of yesterday's affair? You haven't said anything to me about my fete. It was rather neat, eh?"

"Yes, with the exception of Monsieur Ferulus's poetry, the gladiators'

cheese, and Mademoiselle Cheval's posteriors, it was very good."

"Oh! what can you expect? Such unforeseen little accidents always happen. Indeed, Monsieur Berlingue a.s.sured me that those things made the party more piquant.--However, my dear Alfred, during the day I definitely settled upon my choice."

"Your choice for what?"

"What! for what? Why, for my wife, nothing else. I absolutely must marry! When a man occupies a certain position, when he has a chateau--and then, my heart has spoken; oh, yes! it has spoken in a most extraordinary fas.h.i.+on! I have never been in love like this; it is true that no such fascinating object was ever before within my reach. I will bet that you have guessed, Alfred! You must have noticed our understanding. For my part, I confess that I could not restrain myself.--I say, Alfred, what are you looking at out of the window?"

"I am listening to you, I hear what you say; go ahead."

"Well, my dear friend, it is Mademoiselle Cornelie de la Pincerie who has won my heart; it is she who will be my wife, if, as I hope, monsieur le marquis, her father, does not interpose any obstacle to our union."

Alfred left the window, and walked toward Robineau, saying to him:

"It is Mademoiselle Cornelie, that tall young woman with whom you opened the ball, whom you propose to marry?"

"Just so, my friend. She is charming, isn't she?"

"Yes, she isn't bad-looking!"

"And how she dances, eh?"

"Yes, but one doesn't marry to dance all the time. Listen, Robineau----"

"I have told you that I would not answer to that name."

"Well, Jules la Roche-Noire, or whatever you choose,--listen to me, I beg you. You are a good fellow, although wealth has rather turned your head, and although you are trying to play the grand seigneur. We were at school together, and honestly I should be sorry to see you wretchedly unhappy some day."

"What a devil of a preamble!"

"You are spending more than your income, you are running through your inheritance too fast; however, since you are enjoying yourself, I will overlook that; but my friend, take my advice, do not marry Mademoiselle Cornelie; for I am very sure that, if you do, you will not enjoy yourself long."

Robineau pressed his lips together with an air of vexation, and replied:

"My dear Alfred, so many phrases were not necessary to come to that--that I should not marry Mademoiselle de la Pincerie. I admit that I thought that you were going, on the contrary, to compliment me upon my taste. And why should I not marry her?"

"Because that woman is not at all suited to you."

"The fact that I adore her proves, on the contrary, that she is suited to me."

"Pshaw! you imagine that! You adored Fifine, too, and you left her without regret!"

"Fifine! Why in the deuce do you mention her! My friend, I entreat you, do not utter that name again. If the La Pincerie family should find out--I know of course that a young man is at liberty to amuse himself, but no matter! The family is so rigid in the matter of morals that it might prejudice me."