CHAPTER IV.
An exquisite landscape lay before Paul as he hurried to the villa—forests, mountains and rocks—the beautiful sea, bounding the horizon on three sides; but he saw nothing of it. He hurried along, his whole frame trembling with excitement. What should he say to Odette? What would she reply? Did she love him? He did not know. He knew that she enjoyed his society; but, what did that signify? He knew she was proud—disdainful, even—finding it impossible to dissemble in the least; not at all a flirt, she studiously avoided anything leading to a declaration of love, which is the delight of most women. Therefore, he had some slight grounds for hope; but, as he had carefully avoided anything like love-making—knowing himself so poor—he was completely ignorant of the state of her heart. But he worshiped her so devoutly; his faith in her was so sublime; his love so inexpressibly tender, he felt she must love him in return.
All this time, Corinne Descoutures had been dreaming languidly by the open window. She was disturbed in her revery by the sound of a bell, and glancing around, she saw Paul coming up the steps. "Oh, joy! it is he!" But she was in despair that she was not dressed to the best advantage. Of course, he had come to "declare his passion." She rushed to the mirror in the hall, straightened one of her eye-brows, and, in less than a second, was back in her arm-chair, still languidly dreaming. As Paul came in she noticed his exceeding pallor. "What an interesting young man! He seemed deeply agitated," she thought. In fact, he was agitated. He wanted to see Odette, of course; and, how could he make Mme. Descoutures understand that he wished her to go away, and send Odette to him. Corinne opened hostilities. She leaned her head languishingly to one side, like a sick canary, and said plaintively: "I hope you are quite well, M. Frager."
"Very well, indeed, thank you."
Pause.
Mme. Descoutures continued still more plaintively: "You have suffered much, have you not, dear friend?"
Second pause.
This time he did not understand her. Why should this dried-up old woman ask him such a question as that? Corinne mistook the young man's astonishment for emotion. She was touched, and, for the first time in her life, spoke simply and cordially.
"Excuse me," she said, "for speaking so to you; but Odette and I have often spoken together about you, and always with the greatest interest—so young, so solitary, separated from your family—"
Paul thought he understood. Mme. Descoutures wished to indicate to him that Odette was expecting some day a proposal from him; besides, he had never mentioned his mother's second marriage to any of his friends—always calling her Mme. Frager; so, thinking his suit encouraged by Odette's friend, he said with sincere gratitude: "I thank you for your great kindness, Madame. My life, indeed, has not been very happy; but, since you give me hope—" Corinne's features had already assumed an expression of startled modesty, like Psyche surprised by Cupid, when the door opened, and Odette came in. "Ah! M. Frager," holding out her hand to him, "I am so glad to see you. I was just wishing to give you a little errand in the village."