France -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Women -- France -- Fiction
For his own part, he was annoyed at first by the constant presence of
the husband or the cousin. He had intended that this love should be like
all his previous loves, but Indiana soon compelled him to rise to her
level. The resignation with which she endured the constant surveillance,
the happy air with which she glanced at him by stealth, her eyes which
spoke to him in eloquent though silent language, her sublime smile when
a sudden allusion in conversation brought their hearts nearer
together--these soon became keen pleasures which Raymon craved and
appreciated, thanks to the refinement of his mind and the culture of
education.
What a difference between that chaste creature who seemed not to
contemplate the possibility of a _dénoûment_ to her love and all those
other women who were intent only upon hastening it while pretending to
shun it! When Raymon happened to be alone with her, Indiana's cheeks did
not turn a deeper red, nor did she avert her eyes in confusion. No, her
tranquil, limpid eyes were always fixed upon him in ecstasy; an angelic
smile played always about her lips, as ruddy as a little girl's who has
known no kisses but her mother's. When he saw her so trustful, so
passionate, so pure, living solely with the heart and not realizing that
her lover's heart was in torment when he was at her feet, Raymon dared
not be a man, lest he should seem to her inferior to her dreams of him,
and, through self-love, he became as virtuous as she.
Madame Delmare, ignorant as a genuine creole, had never dreamed hitherto
of considering the momentous questions that were now discussed before
her every day. She had been brought up by Sir Ralph, who had a poor
opinion of the intelligence and reasoning power of womankind, and who
had confined himself to imparting some positive information likely to be
of immediate use. Thus she had a very shadowy idea of the world's
history, and any serious discussion bored her to death. But when she
heard Raymon apply to those dry subjects all the charm of his wit, all
the poesy of his language, she listened and tried to understand; then
she ventured timidly to ask ingenuous questions which a girl of ten
brought up according to worldly ideas would readily have answered.
Raymon took pleasure in enlightening that virgin mind which seemed
destined to open to receive his principles; but, despite the power he
exerted over her untrained, artless mind, his sophisms sometimes
encountered resistance from her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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