“You will be, you must be happy!”
Who would not have believed as he did? Where could two young people be found more richly dowered with all the attributes likely to produce happiness, i.e., youth, rank, health, and riches.
But though an intense joy sparkled in the eyes of the new Marquise de Sairmeuse, there were those among the guests who observed the bridegroom’s preoccupation. One might have supposed that he was making an effort to drive away some gloomy thought.
At the moment when his young wife hung upon his arm, proud and radiant, a vision of Marie-Anne rose before him, more life-like, more potent than ever.
What had become of her that she had not been seen at the time of her father’s execution? Courageous as he knew her to be, if she had made no attempt to see her father, it must have been because she was ignorant of his approaching doom.
“Ah! if she had but loved him,” Martial thought, “what happiness would have been his. But, now he was bound for life to a woman whom he did not love.”
At dinner, however, he succeeded in shaking off the sadness that oppressed him, and when the guests rose to repair to the drawing-rooms, he had almost forgotten his dark forebodings. He was rising in his turn, when a servant approached him with a mysterious air.
“Someone desires to see the marquis,” whispered the valet.
“Who?”
“A young peasant who will not give his name.”