Women -- France -- Fiction; Women's rights -- Fiction
“You will see,” said the chevalier, deeply moved, “that this Mauprat
will yet build up the honour of the family again. And now, my dear
Bernard, I will say no more about business. I know how I ought to act,
and you cannot prevent me from taking such steps as I shall think fit
to insure the rehabilitation of my name by yourself. The only true
rehabilitation is guaranteed by your noble sentiments; but there is
still another which I know you will not refuse to attempt--the way
to this lies through your talents and intelligence. You will make the
effort out of love for us, I hope. However, we need not talk of this
at present. I respect your proud spirit, and I gladly renew my offers
without conditions. And now, abbe, I shall be glad if you will accompany
me to the town to see my lawyer. The carriage is waiting. As for you,
children, you can have lunch together. Come, Bernard, offer your arm to
your cousin, or rather, to your sister. You must acquire some courtesy
of manner, since in her case it will be but the expression of your
heart.”
“That is true, uncle,” I answered, taking hold of Edmee’s arm somewhat
roughly to lead her downstairs.
I could feel her trembling; but the pink had returned to her cheeks, and
a smile of affection was playing about her lips.
As soon as we were seated opposite each other at table our happy harmony
was chilled in a very few moments. We both returned to our former
state of embarrassment. Had we been alone I should have got out of the
difficulty by one of those abrupt sallies which I knew how to force from
myself when I grew too much ashamed of my bashfulness; but the presence
of Saint-Jean, who was waiting upon us, condemned me to silence on the
subject next to my heart. I decided, therefore, to talk about Patience.
I asked her how it came to pass that she was on such good terms with
him, and in what light I ought to look upon the pretended sorcerer. She
gave me the main points in the history of the rustic philosopher, and
explained that it was the Abbe Aubert who had taken her to Gazeau Tower.
She had been much struck by the intelligence and wisdom of the stoic
hermit, and used to derive great pleasure from conversation with him. On
his side, Patience had conceived such a friendship for her that for some
time he had relaxed his strict habits, and would frequently pay her a
visit when he came to see the abbe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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