"This time, my lord, I am victorious," said the baronet, after having passed over his eyes his Herculean hand. "Really, at my age, this weakness is perfectly ridiculous. Fear nothing now."
And Murphy left the apartment with a firm step and tranquillized air. A moment of silence ensued; then Clémence, blushing, remembered that she was in Rudolph's house, and alone with him. The prince approached her, and said, almost timidly, "If I choose this day—this moment—to make you a sincere avowal, it is because the solemnity of this day—this moment—will add still more to the gravity of the confession. Ever since I have known you I have loved you. So long as concealment of this love was necessary, I concealed it; now that you are free, and have restored me my daughter, will you be to her a mother?"
"I, my lord!" cried Madame d'Harville. "What do you say?"
"I entreat you, do not refuse me; let this day decide my future happiness," said Rudolph tenderly.
Clémence also had loved the prince for a long time; she thought she was in a dream. The avowal of Rudolph, at once so simple, so serious, so touching—made under such circumstances, transported her with an unhoped-for happiness; she answered, hesitatingly, "My lord, it is for you to recall to mind the difference of rank—the interest of your sovereignty."
"First let me think of the interest of my heart—of that of my cherished daughter; make us both happy—oh! very happy. Permit me, who but now was without family, to say, 'My wife—my daughter;' allow this poor child—also without family—to say, 'My father—my mother—my sister;' for you have a daughter, who will become mine."
"Oh! my lord, to such noble words one can only answer by grateful tears," cried Clémence. Then, composing herself, she added, "My lord, some one comes; it is your child."
"Oh! do not refuse me," cried Rudolph, in a supplicating voice; "in the name of my love, say our child."
"Our child," murmured Clémence; at the same moment Murphy opened the door, leading in Fleur-de-Marie.
The girl, descending from the carriage, had crossed an ante-chamber, filled with footmen in full livery; a waiting-room, where valets attended; then the ushers' saloon; and, finally, the waiting-rooms, occupied by a chamberlain and the aides of the prince in full uniform. Let the reader imagine the astonishment of the poor Goualeuse, who knew no other splendors than those of the farm at Bouqueval, on traversing these princely apartments, resplendent with gold, mirrors, and paintings.