The Vicomte turned his stern look upon Gustave, who though, as we know, not wanting in personal courage, felt cowed by his false position; and his eye fell, quailed before De Mauleon’s gaze.
“Leave us for a few minutes alone, Mademoiselle,” said the Vicomte. “Nay, Julie,” he added, in softened tones, “fear nothing. I, too, owe explanation—friendly explanation—to M. Rameau.”
With his habitual courtesy towards women, he extended his hand to Julie, and led her from the room. Then, closing the door, he seated himself, and made a sign to Gustave to do the same.
“Monsieur,” said De Mauleon, “excuse me if I detain you. A very few words will suffice for our present interview. I take it for granted that Mademoiselle has told you that she is no child of Madame Surville’s: that her own mother bequeathed her to my protection and guardianship with a modest fortune which is at my disposal to give or withhold. The little I have seen already of Mademoiselle impresses me with sincere interest in her fate. I look with compassion on what she may have been in the past; I anticipate with hope what she may be in the future. I do not ask you to see her in either with my eyes. I say frankly that it is my intention, and I may add, my resolve, that the ward thus left to my charge shall be henceforth safe from the temptations that have seduced her poverty, her inexperience, her vanity, if you will, but have not yet corrupted her heart. Bref, I must request you to give me your word of honour that you will hold no further communication with her. I can allow no sinister influence to stand between her fate and honour.”
“You speak well and nobly, M. le Vicomte,” said Rameau, “and I give the promise you exact.” He added, feelingly: “It is true her heart has never been corrupted that is good, affectionate, unselfish as a child’s. J’ai l’honneur de vous saluer, M. le Vicomte.”
He bowed with a dignity unusual to him, and tears were in his eyes as he passed by De Mauleon and gained the anteroom. There a side-door suddenly opened, and Julie’s face, anxious, eager, looked forth.
Gustave paused: “Adieu, Mademoiselle! Adieu, though we may never meet again,—though our fates divide us,—believe me that I shall ever cherish your memory—and—”
The girl interrupted him, impulsively seizing his arm, and looking him in the face with a wild fixed stare. “Hush! dost thou mean to say that we are parted,—parted forever?”
“Alas!” said Gustave, “what option is before us? Your guardian rightly forbids my visits; and even were I free to offer you my hand, you yourself say that I am not a suitor he would approve.”
Julie turned her eyes towards De Mauleon, who, following Gustave into the ante-room, stood silent and impassive, leaning against the wall.