Volume I Part 9 (2/2)
He did not wish this creature to stand betwixt a mother and her babes?
Surely not. The suspicion was unworthy of a true wife, and banished as soon as formed. There was a mistake somewhere. The woman meant well, but was officious. Clovis occupy himself about such domestic details!
Why, he rarely took notice of the children at all, unless worried into doing so. Why should he show interest now--since the arrival of this person? Pondering over this problem in confused pain between the alleys of the moated garden, the marquise endeavoured to rea.s.sure herself. Could she be so foolish as to be growing jealous of a stranger who, it could not be denied, was acting for the best? It was perfectly true that the marquise knew nothing of the subjects that were being taught by Aglae, and it was genuinely kind of her not to let the cherubs see that their erudition overtopped their mother's.
And yet--the hireling had been sadly rude to the mother in the presence of the darlings.
”You are agitated, sweet sister?” whispered the abbe, coming softly up behind across the gra.s.s--his soft hands in a dainty m.u.f.f, for it was chilly--and beaming down on her. ”Do you know that I've been following these five minutes without obtaining a hearing?”
He looked so kind, had behaved with such discretion since his mistake, that her chilled heart warmed to him. Her lips trembled, and she burst into a flood of tears. His fingers clutched within the m.u.f.f (oh! how like the vulture's talons!) as though he would have clasped her to his breast and held her there; but with a supreme effort he restrained the impulse. ”Not yet; not yet,” he murmured to himself, as hearkening to her artless tale with anxious mien he gazed in silence across the swiftly-flowing Loire.
”I fear your suspicion is well founded, and that Clovis wishes it,” he murmured shortly, when she had finished; then, taking her cold hand in his, he led her through the postern to a spot which overlooked the cherubic sanctuary.
Clovis sat by the spinet, beating time with a roll of music--the divine afflatus heavy on him--while the pair of angels played.
”She got rid of you on purpose; drove you out, to be untrammelled in her intercourse with him!” whispered the abbe with compa.s.sion.
”My children!” moaned the chatelaine, aghast. ”Why can it be his wish that she should take them from me, their mother?”
CHAPTER IX.
THUNDER CLOUDS.
Gabrielle was stung to the quick. When _she_ taught the infants her husband could never be lured into the nursery, and now--in so brief a s.p.a.ce of time--a stranger had succeeded in rousing his dormant interest. In her jealousy she took to secretly watching the movements of the governess, and discovered, to her dismay, that the steps of Clovis were constantly wending towards the school-room. And this state of things had been brought about by the non-performance of duties. It was her own fault--of course it was her own fault for neglecting the abbe's warning. Had he not said that Clovis required leading; had he not even offered to a.s.sist her in leading him, and had she not replied by inference that so long as he was guided judiciously, it might be by another hand? But never, in wildest nightmare, had she conjured the possibility of that hand being another woman's! She was a bad wife, for she had neglected her duty, since, surely, it is a wife's first duty to make herself pleasant to her husband. Oh! woe on sins of omission! Instead of pampering her spouse's hobbies she had scoffed at them, and punishment had swooped swiftly down on her.
But it was not too late to set the matter right. He was not a bad man, though difficult to live with. A word of remonstrance at this juncture was worth a homily later, and he would hearken to her words of pleading, for since the arrival of the brothers at Lorge he had shown, in a glimmering glow-worm way, that he admired and liked his wife. She was satisfied that his sluggish nature was not capable of a warmer feeling, and had brought herself meekly to accept that microscopic meed of affection. She must take her courage in her hands, and open her heart to him; declare that his new arrangement, which at the start promised well enough, was making his wife wretched. When he came to understand that she was miserable, he would apologise at once and send the interloper packing.
Rising from the sofa on which she had fallen after pacing the room in a fever, she moved rapidly along the corridor which led to the marquis' study. Her fingers were on the door-k.n.o.b, and her head was whirling with persuasive arguments, when of a sudden her hand dropped powerless. There were low voices murmuring within. The parquet all around the closed door was strewn with straw and bottles, while on an open packing-case was scrawled in large letters the name of Aglae Brunelle. A cold s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed over her frame. She was with him now, that woman. On familiar terms, indeed, since her boxes were unpacked by Clovis! They were never weary of communing together, with heads close and hair mingling, discussing subjects which absorbed them both, but in which she would never have a part! The pride of the young chatelaine rebelled. She could not complain before the domineering adventuress. Would it not be humiliating enough to confess to _him_ that his beautiful and high-born wife was jealous of a stranger, sprung from nowhere in particular, who was rather plain than otherwise?
Reluctantly returning to the boudoir, she took a pen and, after a pause of meditation, flung it down. Write to her fond father, begging him to intervene? No. He believed that she was happy, and should believe it to the end, however much she might be made to suffer. He should share her joys, but not her sorrows, the good father who adored her so. She must endeavour to remedy her own mistakes, fight this rival single-handed, win back the errant husband by the female arts which hitherto she had affected to despise, and understood so little.
Was she strong enough for the difficult task? Perchance the abbe would a.s.sist; but was it not another bitter thing to summon one to the rescue who, though repentant, had once so grievously forgotten himself?
Meanwhile, though he kept up a show of airy levity, the cunning Pharamond was, in a different way, almost as perturbed as she. The strides of the affinity were prodigious, whereas his own siege of Gabrielle made no advance at all. Unless he grappled with the situation without delay, he would a.s.suredly be worsted. But how to grapple with it, by cajolery or threats? Or would it be advisable to practise the arts of the bravo? Was the hand of cordial friends.h.i.+p to be extended to the interloper, or was she forthwith to be stabbed in the back? Pharamond considered himself a genius, and knew that one attribute of genius is to know when to seize an opportunity. Consider the knotty problem as he would, he could not come to a decision.
Perhaps, for the present, a waiting game would be the best to play.
The hand of friends.h.i.+p first, as an experiment; a stab with the poignard by and by.
The abbe in his uncertainty took to dividing his valuable society between the ladies. While the marquis and his affinity were fidgeting over experiments, he read impa.s.sioned strophes to the marquise. When the party went forth for a walk or drive he attached himself to the skirt of Aglae. Her behaviour was irreproachable. She laughed slily at his delicate hints, and seemed mightily amused by his compliments.
Once, when he thought he was really making progress in this direction, she placed her two large hands upon her haunches, and wagging her head, remarked, ”Does monsieur think me blind?”
”Certainly not,” replied the gallant abbe. ”Those sparkling orbs s.h.i.+ne like fireflies.”
”Then why arrange a trap--and such a clumsy one--for my poor big simple feet to fall into?”
It is disconcerting to the astute to be twitted with lack of skill. The tactics that served for Gabrielle would not do with this shrewder lady. Since she guessed his hand, why not show the cards?
Dangerous--but a hazardous game not unfrequently coerces Fortune.
”Why can't you trust me, mademoiselle,” he murmured. ”Cannot one so sharp perceive that I'm her friend?”
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