England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“‘Will mademoiselle condescend to take my arm?’ said Morin, with sulky,
and yet humble, uncouthness. I dare say he would have given worlds if he
might have had that little hand within his arm; but, though she still
kept silence, she shuddered up away from him, as you shrink from touching
a toad. He had said something to her during that walk, you may be sure,
which had made her loathe him. He marked and understood the gesture. He
held himself aloof while Pierre gave her all the assistance he could in
their slow progress homewards. But Morin accompanied her all the same.
He had played too desperate a game to be baulked now. He had given
information against the ci-devant Marquis de Crequy, as a returned
emigre, to be met with at such a time, in such a place. Morin had hoped
that all sign of the arrest would have been cleared away before Virginie
reached the spot—so swiftly were terrible deeds done in those days. But
Clement defended himself desperately: Virginie was punctual to a second;
and, though the wounded man was borne off to the Abbaye, amid a crowd of
the unsympathising jeerers who mingled with the armed officials of the
Directory, Morin feared lest Virginie had recognized him; and he would
have preferred that she should have thought that the ‘faithful cousin’
was faithless, than that she should have seen him in bloody danger on her
account. I suppose he fancied that, if Virginie never saw or heard more
of him, her imagination would not dwell on his simple disappearance, as
it would do if she knew what he was suffering for her sake.
“At any rate, Pierre saw that his cousin was deeply mortified by the
whole tenor of his behaviour during their walk home. When they arrived
at Madame Babette’s, Virginie fell fainting on the floor; her strength
had but just sufficed for this exertion of reaching the shelter of the
house. Her first sign of restoring consciousness consisted in avoidance
of Morin. He had been most assiduous in his efforts to bring her round;
quite tender in his way, Pierre said; and this marked, instinctive
repugnance to him evidently gave him extreme pain. I suppose Frenchmen
are more demonstrative than we are; for Pierre declared that he saw his
cousin’s eyes fill with tears, as she shrank away from his touch, if he
tried to arrange the shawl they had laid under her head like a pillow, or
as she shut her eyes when he passed before her. Madame Babette was
urgent with her to go and lie down on the bed in the inner room; but it
was some time before she was strong enough to rise and do this.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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