“I am afraid, Lucette, horribly afraid. You cannot tell how it is with me. I am perhaps overwrought by this terrible scene in the market place, and—oh, I know not what I feel;” and with a shudder she covered her face with her hands.
“It will all come right, dear,” whispered Lucette gently, after a pause; but the words seemed to jar upon Gabrielle, who lowered her hands, and with a look of irritation replied almost petulantly.
“You judge from your own little outlook. You tease Denys and force a sham quarrel, knowing he will make it up and all will come right, as you say. But how would it be with you if you were in my place, given to a man you had not seen since you were a child; betrothed to one you know nothing about, and who may turn out to be—oh, what am I saying?”
“I should hate him before he came to claim me, Gabrielle,” said Lucette vigorously, tearing at the flax she held in her fingers. “Claim me!” she added, incensed by her own word. “I would make him feel that the claiming was no easy task. Oh, I should hate him! But you need not wed him. You are the mistress of Malincourt.”
“You do not understand, Lucette.” The girl looked up in genuine surprise at the change in Gabrielle’s tone, suddenly calm, proud and cold. “It is my duty to my family. My parents ordered it so, and it is not for me to disobey. I owe it to my house.”
“I can’t understand you, Gabrielle. At one moment you are a girl with all a girl’s heart and feelings, and the next, you are the grand dame, cold, passionless, proud—just the embodied spirit of the traditions of your house.”
“Were you a Malincourt you would understand. I have to live my life and must perforce be content.”
“But pride makes an ill substitute for love in a marriage, Gabrielle. And your motive is pride. If this M. Gerard de Cobalt, this distant kinsman and unseen betrothed, should turn out to be a hideous depraved wretch——”
“Peace, Lucette; you do but plague me. M. de Cobalt will be here to-day or to-morrow; and you will remember he is my affianced husband.”
“I am sorry my reckless tongue wounds you, Gabrielle. I love you so dearly;” and Lucette bent across and kissed her tenderly. “Pray God it may all be well with you. Forgive me.”