elbow. "Mademoiselle A dèle-Martin !" She turned quickly and saw Gaston. His sudden appearance had startled her. He seemed rather uneasy himself, and not self-possessed. He walked beside her, throwing away his half-smoked cigar. He drew another from its case in silence, lit it, and then remembering himself, blushed, and threw it away. off in a melancholy state of mind somewhat uncertain voice at her to wonder whether she had laughed at the joke or the joker. Gaston did not analyze his feelings. He did not even seek her company; he only gazed at her from a distance, as a man might gaze at an angel, and thought her the best and most beautiful woman in the world. Gaston de Francheville could not have sat for a typical portrait of young France. He was rather phlegmatic than excitable. He was truehearted and steadfast. It generally took him some time to reach a conclusion, but when that conclusion was reached he stood firm as a rock. Some people called this quality obstinacy; others, firmness; but they all agreed that it was "Gaston de Francheville's way." A handsome young man-nothing remarkable-you would have thought, had you casually met on a boulevard or in the Bois. He was somewhat taller than the average Frenchman, with dark brown, generally close-cropped hair, a light brown mustache, a bronzed complexion, and honest hazel eyes. He was always well dressed, as became a de Francheville. One soft, balmy May eve, Adèle opened her "Evangeline," and as usual began to pace along the garden path. There was a slight rustling among the ivy that covered the summer-house, and a cloud of curling smoke arose. Adèle, with her back to the arbor, did not notice the sound or the smoke, but went on with her poem. It was "Evangeline." "In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters, Guarding in sylvan shade the name of Penn the apostle, Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded. There all the air is balm-" "I doubt that," murmured Adèle, who had spent a winter in the said city. "Will you permit me to say a few words to you, Mademoiselle?" "Certainly." He paused awhile after she had answered. Why this ceremony? He had spoken to her often without permission. Her heart beat quickly. Perhaps Madame had need of her services no longer. "Thy will be done, O Lord," she murmured. "Well, then, Mademoisellewell, then-" Gaston was stricken with something akin to stage-fright. It occurred to him with terrifying suddenness that Adèle might never have considered the proposition he was about to make-that thus far he had thought of it from only one point of view. But Adèle was waiting for him to speak. "Well, then, Mademoiselle," he continued, desperately, "I want you to be my wife. I love you!" This was abrupt, and Gaston knew it, but it was too late to soften it now. Adèle started in surprise, but her heart sang a song of joy, and her face brightened. "Have you any objection?" he asked, taking her hand. "I have not thought yet, Monsieur Gaston," she said, turning away her face perhaps to conceal the new light in her eyes, and she made a very slight effort to withdraw the imprisoned hand. "Then it is settled, Adèle. Thou wilt try to love me," he said, using "Mademoiselle-ahem!" said a the tender "tu." 66 But, Madame, your mother-” "It is not Madame that is to marry you, Adèle; it is I. She shall know of it to-night." Although the rose-buds had not yet opened, a sweet odor, as of roses, seemed to surround Adèle. She tore her hand from Gaston's grasp, and ran up to her room. There she blushed, sighed, and laughed, finally subsiding into what is technically called "a good cry." Shortly after that little scene in the garden, Madame, in rustling gray silk, point lace, and pearls, sailed into the salon. The curé had been invited to dine at the château, but at the eleventh hour he had sent a regret. He was obliged to answer an unexpected sick-call. "Sick indeed!" exclaimed Madame, with asperity. "People are continually getting sick at unreasonable times. They might exercise a little self-denial, and let the poor man eat his dinner in peace! Selfishness, selfishness, all is selfishness!" Gaston was trying to read by the light of one wax candle perched in a chandelier high above his head. Madame, being economical, had forbidden the lighting of more than one candle until the curé's arrival. "Ma mère," began Gaston, "I have asked Mademoiselle Adèle to be my wife, and she has promised -that is "What?" demanded Madame, standing still, and bending her eyes on her son in amazement. "I have asked Mademoiselle Adèle to be my wife, and she has not refused." Madame stood as one stricken dumb. She opened her lips, and then closed them. When one loses one's temper, one loses all, was a favorite maxim of hers. In silence she took out her bonbonnière, and with great deliberation selected some vanilla chocolate. "You have done a very foolish thing, Gaston," she said, in her gentlest tone. "Consider. Have you committed yourself irretrievably?" "Have I not said, Maman, that I asked Adèle to be my wife? I have told her that I love her." "That is nothing. Twenty young men told me the same thing before I had seen your father." "But my father would not have told you so had he not meant it, and you have often said that I am like my father." Again Madame applied herself to her bonbonnière. Vanilla chocolate had a soothing effect on her nerves. "Gaston," she said, "you well know that the house of de Francheville is not as rich as it was long ago when your ancestor Gontran founded a church in Nantes, which was the wonder of the surrounding country. There is only one estate in our province which could bear such a drain now, and that is the magnificent estate of the Marquis de Saluces. The heiress to that estate I expect each day to arrive in France. She has a daughter. Of this daughter I have spoken to you, Gaston. Will you throw away the chance of becoming one of the richest proprietors in France ?" "But I love Adèle, mother." "Bah!" said Madame in a tone of infinite scorn. "Give up the thought of this girl, Gaston. I will persuade her" "Never!" cried Gaston, aroused for once. "I'll never marry without your blessing, but I'll never sacrifice my honor to gain it !" "But you are willing to sacrifice the honor of your family for an obscure girl!" Madame was losing her temper. The bonbonnière again came into use. "The honor of our family, if true and honest love can sully it, it is a false, boastful, empty name!" There was a short silence, during which Madame closed her eyes, and reflected. "I will consent to your marrying this girl on one condition. You shall go to Paris on Friday, Gaston. To-day is Wednesday. You will have one day for preparation. It is sufficient. In Paris I wish you to remain a month. If, at the end of that time, your mind is still unchanged regarding this girl, I will receive Adèle Martin as my daughter. Do you consent?" Gaston hesitated. He hardly knew how to take this. "I consent," he said; "I will start for Paris on Friday." Before Madame retired that evening, she wrote a letter and directed it to the inn of the Golden Horse, Nantes. All the next day Gaston was occupied with the preparations for his journey, and Madame took care that Adèle should be occupied too. Work was provided for her in the mysterious recesses of Madame's apartment. Gaston made several attempts to see her, but his mother's vigilance rendered them fruitless. He spoke to her once before he started, but Madame was present, and so he was forced to leave the château, according to promise, without having been able to say one tender word to the "dame de ses pensées." On Saturday-Gaston had started for Paris the previous day-a letter came to Madame from Monsieur Blanque, and on the same night she paid a visit to Adèle's room. The interview between this woman of the world and the girl lasted some time. Madame's voice was in unvarying monotone, but Adèle's was passionate and sob-broken. different. If my poor Gaston marries you, he will be generous but foolish; but if you consent to marry him, you will be the executioner of my dearest hopes the destroyer of my son's future happiness." "Madame," Adèle interrupted, in a tone that had more impatience in it than she had yet shown, 'you forget that your son's happiness depends in part at least on his love for me." 66 Poor, poor child!" murmured Madame. "And you believe that because Gaston says so! When you have seen as much of the world as I have, you will be less credulous. Believe me, my child, one pretty woman is just as dear to a man as another. But when did Gaston tell you all this nonsense?" "He never told it to me in words exactly," said Adèle, the lovely blush-rose hue growing deeper in her cheeks, "but since he spoke to me in the garden, his eyes-in a word, Madame, I am sure that he loves me." "Love! bah, it is folly," cried Madame, losing her equanimity. "Have some vanilla chocolate? No? Well, my dear," she continued, changing her tone, "I believe that Gaston thinks he loves you, and, hélas! he is obstinate; but remember that I have almost engaged him to the granddaughter of the Marquis de Saluces." "And has he no voice in the matter?" "My dear, in France parents arrange these affairs." "It is not so at home," said Adèle, the tear-drops on her lashes sparkling in the resolute light of her eyes. "I do not care. I will not give him up!" "You are selfish, Mademoiselle," said Madame, in a tone delicately modulated to express sorrow rather than anger. "But can I blame you? you are not a mother, and none but mothers know what self-sacrifice truly is. Listen to me. Gaston is comparatively poor now, for he has only one thousand francs de rente of his own, and when this is divided between two, he will be poorer. Neither am I rich, but I am not wholly destitute, and I tell you, Mademoiselle, that whenMadame hesitated, and shivered slightly. "No matter. I will give him nothing, if you become his wife. How could you two live? It is true that Gaston has studied medicine, but the idea of a de Francheville practicing that profession is absurd! He has nothing. You have nothing. Surely, you will not be silly enough to marry!" Adèle did not answer, though Madame paused. "You will not cause my son to sacrifice everything-wealth, rank, ease for you. Will you, Mademoiselle?" Adèle's face became white, and she turned to Madame imploringly. "Answer me, Mademoiselle." "No," sobbed Adèle. "I will not see him again. I do not doubt his love, assure him of that, Madame, but I doubt that mine could compensate him for all he would lose." "Yes, my child, and I have provided a bridegroom for you, a worthy man, Jérémie Hercule Blanque. You must put it out of Gaston's power to marry you, and the only way to do so is to marry somebody else. Gaston is obstinate as the rock. If you are not extremely firm, strong, and true to yourself, he will make you his wife in spite of everybody." Adèle wished that he would, but she did not say so. It was very hard, very hard, she sobbed. Madame talked far into the night, and at last, dizzy, wretched, and exhausted, Adèle promised to become the wife of Monsieur Blanque. Monsieur Blanque, when he had been informed of the result of this interview, paid frequent visits to the château. He was often thrown into Adèle's way. At these times the girl greeted him with a cold bow or a few monosyllables, and then took refuge in her room. "Mademoiselle Martin does not speak much now," said Monsieur Blanque, "but I fear that it will not be so after marriage." Madame de Francheville had named the wedding day. The marriage was to take place three days before Gaston was expected home from exile. A dead calm seemed to have fallen upon Adèle. The worst had come to the worst. She could not weep, and she found it hard to pray. Her visits to the church grew more frequent, and the curé did not fail to notice that she often wept. "Thy will be done -Thy will be done, dear Lord! But, O Mother of Sorrows, have pity on me!" This was her prayer. Gay Paris had now no attractions for Gaston. Three weeks of his time of probation had crawled away. Adèle was constantly in his mind. Another week, and then years of happiness! Si la jeunesse savait! Two days of this last week passed. Gaston had reached the last stage of restlessness, and when Pierre Frèchon's well-known voice was heard outside his room door in loud conversation with the concierge, he rushed forth and warmly welcomed that individual. "You overwhelm me, Monsieur le Comte," said Pierre, helping himself to the coffee and cognac which Gaston offered him. "I can tell you nothing about the people at de Francheville, except that they are all well, and that Monsieur Blanque, whom you doubtless remember, frequently visits the chá teau. It was only the day before yesterday that I drove him there, which event causes my visit to you! I have sold my beautiful cabriolet, Monsieur!" Pierre Frèchon paused, evidently expecting that the startling information would stun Gaston. "Indeed!" "Yes, I am going to my brother, who is in America. The day before yesterday, Friday, an unlucky day too! quel dommage! a letter came from my brother, and at once I sold my cabriolet to a man who had long wanted to buy it. Unfortunately, Monsieur Blanque had left his overcoat, and a packet, which fell from the inside pocket of it, in my cabriolet. I had not time to convey them after him to the château, and so, as I was on my way to Paris, I brought them to you. Will you oblige me, Monsieur le Comte, by returning them to their owner?" Pierre might have added that he could have just as well sent the articles to the château by the new driver of the cabriolet, had he not required some pretext for visiting Gaston, in the hope of receiving a parting "pour boire." He was not disappointed. Having left Monsieur Blanque's light overcoat and the packet, he departed in great good humor. When he had gone, Gaston hastily glanced at the packet. It was addressed to his mother. "This may be important," he thought, "it was very careless of Blanque to forget it." The next day, he took up the packet again. "It is important, I am sure," he said; "I had better risk everything, and take it to her at once. It is not necessary that I should see Adèle until the month has fully passed. I will leave the château as soon as I deliver the packet." And yet, had he not cherished a hope of catching a passing glimpse of Adèle, he would not have troubled himself about that packet. How elaborately we disguise our real motives sometimes! He packed his portmanteau, and went out to settle some business matters with a notary. Delays followed, and it was not until late on Wednesday morning that, burning with impatience, he got into a carriage at the railroad station at Nantes, and ordered the driver to take him to de Francheville. As Gaston went up the avenue leading to the château, he noticed that the family carriage was waiting. He concluded that his mother was about to pay one of her visits of state. "If So, I thought. am just in time," he Just in time! He found Madame de Francheville in the boudoir adjoining the salon. Her dress was unusually rich. "Ma mère is probably about to visit the Archbishop or the Prefét, at least," muttered Gaston, standing in the doorway. She saw his reflection in the mirror before which she stood. "You here!" she cried, turning suddenly. "Have you broken our compact, Gaston ?" "No," he said. "I will return to Paris as soon as I have given you this packet, which Monsieur Blanque left in the cabriolet. It is addressed to you." "To me! But go at once, Gaston. I have an important engagement, and there is no time for talking. Go at once," she repeated, eagerly. "You have only two days to wait." She took the packet, looked at the address, and tore away the already mutilated wrapper. "Au revoir, mon fils," she said, unfolding the paper. "Au revoir, ma mère," returned Gaston, bowing ceremoniously, and then turning on his heel "until Friday." |
