"'Your solitary pride has exaggerated the difficulties.You may,if you will,look on at the life of a brother,or of a father,without either suffering or joy;but you will find neither mockery nor indifference,nor have any doubt as to his intentions.The warmth of the atmosphere in which you live will be always equable and genial,without tempests,without a possible squall.If,later,when you feel secure that you are as much at home as in your own little house,you desire to try some other elements of happiness,pleasures,or amusements,you can expand their circle at your will.The tenderness of a mother knows neither contempt nor pity.What is it?Love without desire.Well,in me admiration shall hide every sentiment in which you might see an offence.
"'Thus,living side by side,we may both be magnanimous.In you the kindness of a sister,the affectionate thoughtfulness of a friend,will satisfy the ambition of him who wishes to be your life's companion;and you may measure his tenderness by the care he will take to conceal it.Neither you nor I will be jealous of the past,for we may each acknowledge that the other has sense enough to look only straight forward.
"'Thus you will be at home in your new house exactly as you are in the Rue Saint-Maur;unapproachable,alone,occupied as you please,living by your own law;but having in addition the legitimate protection,of which you are now exacting the most chivalrous labors of love,with the consideration which lends so much lustre to a woman,and the fortune which will allow of your doing many good works.
Honorine,when you long for an unnecessary absolution,you have only to ask for it;it will not be forced upon you by the Church or by the Law;it will wait on your pride,on your own impulsion.My wife might indeed have to fear all the things you dread;but not my friend and sister,towards whom I am bound to show every form and refinement of politeness.To see you happy is enough happiness for me;I have proved this for the seven years past.The guarantee for this,Honorine,is to be seen in all the flowers made by you,carefully preserved,and watered by my tears.Like the /quipos/,the tally cords of the Peruvians,they are the record of our sorrows.
"'If this secret compact does not suit you,my child,I have begged the saintly man who takes charge of this letter not to say a word in my behalf.I will not owe your return to the terrors threatened by the Church,nor to the bidding of the Law.I will not accept the ****** and quiet happiness that I ask from any one but yourself.If you persist in condemning me to the lonely life,bereft even of a fraternal smile,which I have led for nine years,if you remain in your solitude and show no sign,my will yields to yours.Understand me perfectly:you shall be no more troubled that you have been until this day.I will get rid of the crazy fellow who has meddled in your concerns,and has perhaps caused you some annoyance .'
"'Monsieur,'said Honorine,folding up the letter,which she placed in her bosom,and looking at my uncle,'thank you very much.I will avail myself of Monsieur le Comte's permission to remain here----'
"'Ah!'I exclaimed.
"This exclamation made my uncle look at me uneasily,and won from the Countess a mischievous glance,which enlightened me as to her motives.
"Honorine had wanted to ascertain whether I were an actor,a bird snarer;and I had the melancholy satisfaction of deceiving her by my exclamation,which was one of those cries from the heart which women understand so well.
"'Ah,Maurice,'said she,'you know how to love.'
"The light that flashed in my eyes was another reply which would have dissipated the Countess'uneasiness if she still had any.Thus the Count found me useful to the very last.
"Honorine then took out the Count's letter again to finish reading it.
My uncle signed to me,and I rose.
"'Let us leave the Countess,'said he.
"'You are going already Maurice?'she said,without looking at me.
"She rose,and still reading,followed us to the door.On the threshold she took my hand,pressed it very affectionately,and said,'We shall meet again .'
"'No,'I replied,wringing her hand,so that she cried out.'You love your husband.I leave to-morrow.'
"And I rushed away,leaving my uncle,to whom she said:
"'Why,what is the matter with your nephew?'
"The good Abbe completed my work by pointing to his head and heart,as much as to say,'He is mad,madame;you must forgive him!'and with all the more truth,because he really thought it.
"Six days after,I set out with an appointment as vice-consul in Spain,in a large commercial town,where I could quickly qualify to rise in the career of a consul,to which I now restricted my ambition.
After I had established myself there,I received this letter from the Count:--"'MY DEAR MAURICE,--
"'If I were happy,I should not write to you,but I have entered on a new life of suffering.I have grown young again in my desires,with all the impatience of a man of forty,and the prudence of a diplomatist,who has learned to moderate his passion.When you left Ihad not yet been admitted to the /pavillon/in the Rue Saint-Maur,but a letter had promised me that I should have permission--the mild and melancholy letter of a woman who dreaded the agitations of a meeting.
After waiting for more than a month,I made bold to call,and desired Gobain to inquire whether I could be received.I sat down in a chair in the avenue near the lodge,my head buried in my hands,and there Iremained for almost an hour.
"'"Madame had to dress,"said Gobain,to hide Honorine's hesitancy under a pride of appearance which was flattering to me.
"'During a long quarter of an hour we both of us were possessed by an involuntary nervous trembling as great as that which seizes a speaker on the platform,and we spoke to each other sacred phrases,like those of persons taken by surprise who "make believe"a conversation.
