French fiction -- Translations into English; Love -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
Theresa disappeared, and while the young man was standing in the
luggage-room an involuntary impulse of ill-humour arose within him and
caused him to tell himself that the two old people, who, nevertheless,
loved him so much, really ought not to have been there. This little
painful impression, which, at the very moment of his return, showed him
the weight of the chain of family tenderness, was renewed as soon as he
found himself again face to face with his mother. From the first glance
he felt that he was being studied, and, as he was but little accustomed
to dissimulation, he believed that he was seen through. The fact was
that his own eyes had been changed, as those of a young girl who has
become a woman are changed, with one of those imperceptible alterations
which reside in a shade of expression.
But how could the mother be deceived by them--she who for so many years
had watched all the reflections of those dark pupils, and who now
grasped within them a depth of intoxicated and fathomless felicity? But
to the putting of a question on the subject the poor woman was not
equal. Shades of feeling, the principal events in the life of the heart,
elude the formulas of phrases, and thence arise the worst
misunderstandings. Hubert was very gay during dinner, with a gaiety that
was rendered somewhat nervous by the prevision of an approaching
difficulty. How would his mother take his going out in the evening?
Half-an-hour had not elapsed since leaving table when he rose like one
who is about to say good-bye.
"You are leaving us?" said Madame Liauran.
"Yes, mamma," he replied, with a slight blush on his cheeks; "Emmanuel
Deroy has entrusted me with a commission, which is extremely pressing,
and which I must execute to-night."
"You cannot put it off until to-morrow, and give us your first evening?"
asked Madame Castel, who wished to spare her daughter the humiliation of
a refusal which she could foresee.
"Indeed no, grandmother," he replied, in a tone of childish playfulness;
"that would not be courteous to my friend, who has been so kind to me in
London."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account