Part 23 (1/2)
”Of course! And when you were young--”
”There--no impertinence--”
”Dear uncle, I asked you days ago to talk to my father and mother. Why did you never do it? Then I might have been beforehand with that man--as to him, of course, he is an utter impossibility, and if Cousin Herve sees that, we are safe--but still--”
”Ah! there is a 'but' in the affair, I a.s.sure you. Madame would do anything for a nearer connection with her beloved Empire--and Ratoneau might be Napoleon's twin-brother, but that is a detail--and not only madame, your father is on the same side.”
”My father!”
”He thinks there could not be a more sensible marriage. The daughter of the Comte de Sainfoy--a distinguished general of division; diable! what can anybody want more? So my Angelot, I was not a false prophet, it seems to me, when I felt very sure that what you asked me was hopeless.
Your father would have been against you, for the sake of the Sainfoys; your mother, for opposite reasons. There was one chance, Herve himself.
I saw that he was very angry at the Ratoneau proposal; I thought he might s.n.a.t.c.h at an alternative. I still think he might have done so, if you had not behaved like a maniac. It was the moment, Angelot; such moments do not return. I was striking while the iron was hot--you, you only, made my idea useless. You made me look even more mad and foolish than yourself--not that I cared for that. As to danger from her mother, why, after all, her father is the authority.”
”Ah, but you are too romantic,” sighed Angelot. ”He would never have accepted me. He would never really oppose his wife, if her mind was set against him.”
”He opposes her now. He plainly said that his daughter should marry a gentleman, therefore not Ratoneau. And where have all your fine presumptuous hopes flown to, my boy? The other day you found yourself good enough for Mademoiselle Helene.”
”Perhaps I do still,” Angelot said, and laughed. ”But I did not then quite understand the Comtesse. I know now that she detests me. Then, too, she had not seen or thought of Ratoneau--Dieu! What profanation!
Was it quite new, the terrible idea? I saw the brute--pah! We were handing the coffee--”
”Yes,” said Monsieur Joseph. ”As far as I know, the seed was sown, the plant grew and flowered, all in that one evening, my poor Angelot.
Well--I hope all is safe now, but women are very clever, and there is your father, too--he is very clever. If it is not this marriage, it will be another--but you are not interested now; you have put yourself out of the question.”
”Don't say that, Uncle Joseph--and don't imagine that your troubles are over. You will have to do a good deal more for me yet, and for Helene.”
He spoke slowly and dreamily, then added with a gesture of despair--”But my father--how could he! Why, the very sight of the man--”
”Ah! Very poetical, your dear father, but not very sentimental. I told him so. He said the best poetry was the highest good sense. I do not quite understand him, I confess. Allons! I am afraid I do. He is a philosopher. He also--well, well!”
”He also--what?”
”Nothing,” said Monsieur Joseph, shortly. ”What is to be done then, to help you?”
”I am afraid--for her sake--I must not go quite so much to Lancilly. Not for a few days, at least, till last night is forgotten. I cannot meet her before all those people, with their eyes upon me. I believe Madame de Sainfoy saw that I was lying, that I would give my life for what I seemed to refuse.”
”Do you think so? No, no, she laughed and teased and questioned me with the others.”
”Nevertheless, I think so. But I must know that Helene is well and safe and not tormented. Uncle Joseph, if you could go there a little oftener--you might see her sometimes--”
”How often?”
”Every two days, for instance?”
Monsieur Joseph smiled sweetly.
”No, mon pet.i.t. What should take me to Lancilly every two days? I have not much to say to Herve; his ideas are not mine, either on sport or on politics. And as to Madame Adelade--no--we do not love each other. She is impatient of me--I distrust her. She has Urbain, and one in the family is enough, I think. Voyons! Would your Mademoiselle Moineau do any harm to Riette?”
”Ah! But no! I believe she is a most excellent woman.”
”Only a little sleepy--hein? Well, I will change my mind about that offer I refused. I will send Riette every day to learn needlework and Italian with her cousins. She will teach more than she learns, by the bye! Yes, our little _guetteuse_ shall watch for you, Angelot. But on one condition--that she knows no more than she does already. You can ask her what questions you please, of course--but no letters or messages, mind; I trust to your honour. I will not have the child made a go-between in my cousin's house, or mixed up with matters too old for her. She knows enough already to do what you want, to tell you that Mademoiselle Helene is safe and well. I will have nothing more, you understand. But I think you will be wise to keep away, and this plan may make absence bearable.”