While Lucien was hastening to the torture in Mme. de Bargeton’s rooms,
his sister had changed her dress for a gown of pink cambric covered with
narrow stripes, a straw hat, and a little silk shawl. The simple costume
seemed like a rich toilette on Eve, for she was one of those women whose
great nature lends stateliness to the least personal detail; and David
felt prodigiously shy of her now that she had changed her working dress.
He had made up his mind that he would speak of himself; but now as he
gave his arm to this beautiful girl, and they walked through L’Houmeau
together, he could find nothing to say to her. Love delights in such
reverent awe as redeemed souls know on beholding the glory of God. So,
in silence, the two lovers went across the Bridge of Saint Anne, and
followed the left bank of the Charente. Eve felt embarrassed by the
pause, and stopped to look along the river; a joyous shaft of sunset
had turned the water between the bridge and the new powder mills into a
sheet of gold.
“What a beautiful evening it is!” she said, for the sake of saying
something; “the air is warm and fresh, and full of the scent of flowers,
and there is a wonderful sky.”
“Everything speaks to our heart,” said David, trying to proceed to love
by way of analogy. “Those who love find infinite delight in discovering
the poetry of their own inmost souls in every chance effect of the
landscape, in the thin, clear air, in the scent of the earth. Nature
speaks for them.”
“And loosens their tongues, too,” Eve said merrily. “You were very
silent as we came through L’Houmeau. Do you know, I felt quite
uncomfortable----”
“You looked so beautiful, that I could not say anything,” David answered
candidly.
“Then, just now I am not so beautiful?” inquired she.
“It is not that,” he said; “but I was so happy to have this walk alone
with you, that----” he stopped short in confusion, and looked at the
hillside and the road to Saintes.
“If the walk is any pleasure to you, I am delighted; for I owe you an
evening, I think, when you have given up yours for me. When you refused
to go to Mme. de Bargeton’s, you were quite as generous as Lucien when
he made the demand at the risk of vexing her.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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