XXXII
There was a grand ball at the Bourjots' in honour of the approaching marriage of their daughter with M. Mauperin de Villacourt.
"You are going in for it to-day. How you are dancing!" said Renée to Noémi, fanning her as she stood talking in a corner of the vast drawing-room.
"I have never danced so much, that's quite true," answered Noémi, taking her friend's arm and leading her away into the small drawing-room. "No, never," she continued, drawing Renée to her and kissing her. "Oh, how lovely it is to be happy," and then kissing her again in a perfect fever of joy, she said: "She does not care for him now. Oh, I'm quite sure she doesn't care for him. In the old days I could see she did by the very way she got up when he came; by her eyes, her voice, the very rustle of her dress, everything. Then when he wasn't there, I could tell by her silence she was thinking of him. You are surprised at my noticing, silly thing that I am; but there are some things that I understand with this"—and she drew Renée's hand on to her white moiré dress just where her heart was—"and this never deceives me."
"And you love him now, do you?" asked Renée.
Noémi stopped her saying any more by pressing her bouquet of roses against her friend's lips.
"Mademoiselle, you promised me the first redowa," and a young man took Noémi away. She turned as she reached the door and threw a kiss to Renée with the tips of her fingers.
Noémi's confession had given Renée a thrill of joy, and she had revelled in the smile on her friend's face. She herself felt immensely comforted and relieved. In an instant everything had changed for her, and the thought that Noémi loved her brother chased away all other ideas. She no longer saw the shame and the crime which she had so long seen in this marriage. She kept repeating to herself that Noémi loved him, that they both loved each other. The rest all belonged to the past, and they would each of them forget that past, Noémi by forgiving it, and Henri by redeeming it. Suddenly the remembrance of something came back to her, bringing with it an anxious thought and a vague dread. She was determined, however, just then to see no dark clouds in the horizon and nothing threatening in the future. Chasing all this from her mind, she began to think of her brother and of Noémi once more. She pictured to herself the wedding-day and their future home, and she recalled the voices of some children she had once heard calling "Auntie! Auntie!"
"Will mademoiselle do me the honour of dancing with me?"