Part 20 (1/2)
”Poor, dear Jean,” she murmured. ”Fate pursues us. Odile Bastian and the other. Two love affairs which exclude each other! Oh! my poor dear, it is the drama of our family perpetuating itself through us!”
She straightened herself, thinking she heard a step, and taking her brother's arm went on nervously: ”We cannot talk here, but we must talk about other than merely surface things. If father suddenly came across us, or mamma, who is working in the drawing-room at heaven knows what everlasting piece of embroidery. Ah, my dear, when I think that only a few steps away from her we are exchanging such secrets as these, which she little suspects! But first we must think of ourselves, must we not? Ourselves...!” For a moment she thought of returning to the house, and of going up to her room with Jean.
Then she decided on a better place of refuge. ”Come into the fields, there no one will disturb us.”
Arm-in-arm, hastening their steps, speaking to each other in low tones and short sentences, they went through the gate, pa.s.sed the end of the enclosure, and to the right of the road, which was higher than the surrounding land; they went down a sloping path, which could be seen like a grey ribbon winding its seemingly endless way through the young corn. Already each of them, after the first moment of surprise, of dejection, and of real pain caused by the thought of what the other would suffer, had come back to thoughts of self.
”Perhaps we are wrong to worry ourselves,” said Lucienne, entering the path. ”Is it certain that our plans are irreconcilable?”
”Yes. Odile Bastian's mother will never agree to her daughter becoming the sister-in-law of a German officer.”
”And how do you know that this officer would not perhaps prefer marrying into a family a little less behind the times than ours?”
said Lucienne, hurt. ”Your plan may also injure mine.”
”Pardon me; I know Farnow--nothing will stop him.”
”To tell the truth, I think so too!” said the young girl, looking up, and blus.h.i.+ng with pride.
”He is one of those who are never in the wrong.”
”Exactly so.”
”You share his ambitions.”
”I flatter myself that I do.”
”You can rest a.s.sured then: he will have no hesitation. The scruples will come from the Bastian side, who are the souls of honour....”
”Ah! if he heard you,” said Lucienne, letting go her brother's arm, ”he would fight you.”
”What would that prove?”
”That he felt your insult as I felt it myself, Jean. For Lieutenant von Farnow is a man of honour!”
”Yes, in _his_ way--which is not our way.”
”Very good! Very n.o.ble!”
”Rather feudal, this n.o.bility of theirs. They have not had the time to have that of a later date. But after all it does not matter. I am not in a mood for discussion. I suffer too much. All I wish to say is that when I ask for Odile's hand I shall be refused. I foresee it, I am sure of it; and that von Farnow will not understand why, and if he did understand he would not withdraw, he would never think of sacrificing himself. In speaking like this, I am not slandering him. I simply understand him.”
They walked on, enveloped in an atmosphere of light and warmth, which they did not enjoy, between long strips of young corn, smiling unnoticed around them. In the plain, some labourers seeing them pa.s.s side by side, walking together, envied them. Lucienne could not deny that her brother's forebodings were reasonable. Yes, it must be so, judging from what she herself knew of Lieutenant von Farnow and the Bastians. In any other circ.u.mstance she would have pitied her brother, but personal interest spoke louder than pity. She felt a kind of disturbed joy when she heard Jean acknowledge his fears. She felt encouraged _not_ to be generous, because she felt he was anxious. Not being able to pity him, she at any rate drew near to him, and talked to him about herself.
”If we had lived together longer, Jean,” she said, ”you would have known my ideas on marriage, and I should astonish you less to-day. I had made up my mind to marry only a very rich man. I dislike the fear of what to-morrow may bring; I want certainty and to lead....”
”The conditions are fulfilled,” said Jean, with bitterness. ”Farnow has a vast property in Silesia. But at the same time he is also lieutenant in the 9th regiment of Rhenish Hussars!”
”Well!”
”Officer in an army against which your father has fought, your uncle has fought, and all your relations, every one old enough to carry arms.”
”Quite right. And I would not have asked anything better than to marry an Alsatian. Perhaps I even wished to do so without saying anything about it. But I did not find what I wished. Nearly all who had name, fortune, or influence have chosen France; that is to say, they all left Alsace after the war. They called it patriotism.