Messire Robert d'Estourville, Colombe's father, was certainly far from handsome; there was in his bushy eyebrows, which he drew together at the least obstacle, physical or moral, that he encountered, a savage expression, and in his whole thickset figure something heavy and awkward, which caused one to feel but slightly prepossessed in his favor; but beside Comte d'Orbec he seemed like Saint Michael the Archangel beside the dragon. The square head and the strongly accentuated features of the provost did at least indicate resolution and force of character, while his small, piercing gray lynx eyes denoted intelligence; but Comte d'Orbec, lean and withered, with his long arms like spider's claws his mosquito-like voice and his snail-like movements, was not only ugly, he was absolutely hideous;—it was the ugliness of the beast and the villain in one. His head was carried on one side, and his face wore a villanous smile and a treacherous expression.
So it was that Colombe, at the sight of this revolting creature, who was presented to her as her future husband when her heart and her thoughts and her eyes were still filled with the comely youth who had just gone from that very room, could not, as we have seen, wholly repress an exclamation of dismay; but her strength failed her, and she stood there pale and speechless, gazing terror-stricken into her father's face.
"I beseech you to pardon Colombe's confusion, dear friend," the provost continued; "in the first place, she is a little barbarian, who has not been away from here these two years past, the air of the time being not over healthy, as you know, for attractive maids; secondly, I have made the mistake of not informing her of our plans, which would have been time lost, however, since what I have determined upon needs no person's approval before being put in execution; and lastly, she knows not who you are, and that with your name, your great wealth, and the favor of Madame d'Etampes, you are in a position where everything is possible; but upon reflection she will appreciate the honor you confer upon us in consenting to ally your ancient blood with our nobility of more recent date; she will learn that friends of forty years' standing—"
"Enough, my dear fellow, enough, in God's name!" interposed the count. "Come, come, my child," he added, addressing Colombe with familiar and insolent assurance, which formed a striking contrast to poor Ascanio's timidity,—"come, compose yourself and call back to your cheeks a little of the lovely coloring that so becomes you. Mon Dieu! I know what a young girl is, you know, and a young woman too for that matter, for I have already been married twice, my dear. Good lack! you must not be disturbed like this: I don't frighten you, I hope, eh?" added the count fatuously, passing his fingers through his scanty moustache and imperial. "Your father did wrong to give me the title of husband so suddenly, which always agitates a youthful heart a little when it hears it for the first time; but you will come to it, little one, and will end by saying it yourself with that sweet little mouth of yours. Well! well! you are growing paler and paler,—God forgive me! I believe she is fainting."
As he spoke D'Orbec put out his arms to support her, but she stood erect, and stepped back as if she feared his touch no less than a serpent's, finding strength to utter a few words:—
"Pardon, monsieur, pardon, father," she faltered; "forgive me, it is nothing; but I thought, I hoped—"
"What did you think, what did you hope? Come, tell us quickly!" rejoined the provost, fixing his sharp eyes, snapping angrily, upon his daughter.
"That you would allow me to stay with you always, father," replied Colombe. "Since my poor mother's death, you have no one else to love you and care for you, and I had thought—"
"Hold your peace, Colombe," retorted the provost imperatively. "I am not old enough as yet to need a keeper, and you have arrived at the proper age to have an establishment of your own.
"Bon Dieu!" interposed D'Orbec, joining once more in the conversation, "accept me without so much ado, my love. With me you will be as happy as one can be, and more than one will envy you, I swear. Mordieu! I am rich, and I propose, that you shall be a credit to me; you shall go to court, and shall wear jewels that will arouse the envy, I will not say of the queen, but of Madame d'Etampes herself."