This pretended uncertainty as to the day of her arrival was, on the part
of Madame d'Arglade, the graceful reception of a joke which the Duke had
often made about the ignorance of days and hours that she always
affected. The Duke, with all his cunning with regard to women, had been
completely duped by Léonie. He thought her silly, and had a way of
addressing her thus: "That's it! You are coming to see my mother to-day,
Monday, Tuesday, or Sunday, the seventh, sixth, or fifth day of the
month of November, September, or December, in your blue or gray or
rose-colored dress, and you are going to honor us by supping, dining, or
breakfasting with us, or with them, or with other people."
The Duke was not at all taken with her. She amused him, and the small
talk and witticism which characterized his manner with her were merely
as a mask for a sort of desultory groping about in the dark, which
Madame d'Arglade pretended not to notice, but of which she knew very
well how to keep clear.
When the Duke entered the presence of Madame d'Arglade and his mother,
he was still much disturbed, and the change in his countenance struck
the Marchioness. "Bless me!" cried she, "there has been some accident!"
"None at all, dear mother. Reassure yourself; everything has passed off
finely. I have been a little cold, that is all."
He was really cold, although he had still on his brow the perspiration
of vexation and anger. He drew near the fire which burned every evening,
at all seasons of the year, in the drawing-room of the Marchioness; but,
after a few moments, the habit of self-mastery, which is the whole
science of fashionable life, and the brilliant pyrotechnics of Léonie's
words and smiles, dispelled his bitterness.
Mlle de Saint-Geneix now came forward to embrace her old companion at
the convent. "Ah! but you are pale too," said the Marchioness to
Caroline. "You are concealing something from me! There has been some
accident--I am sure of it--with those infernal beasts."
"No, Madame," replied Caroline, "none at all, I assure you, and, to
relieve your anxiety, I will tell you everything: I have been very much
frightened."
"Really? By what, pray?" asked the Duke; "it certainly was not by your
horse?"
"Perhaps it was by you, your Grace. Come, was it you who stopped my
horse for sport, while I was alone walking him slowly in the green
avenue?"
"Well, yes, it was I," replied the Duke. "I wanted to see whether you
were as brave as you seemed."
"And I was not. I ran like a terrified chicken."
"But you did not cry out, and you did not lose your presence of
mind,--that's something."
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.
Elsewhere in the archive