“It would be an imprudent frankness if I were your enemy,” said Rodin, still impassible; “but you also promised me some advice, my dear young lady.”
“My advice will be short; do not attempt to continue the struggle, because, you see, there is something stronger than you and yours—it is a woman’s resolve, defending her happiness.”
Adrienne pronounced these last words with so sovereign a confidence; her beautiful countenance shone, as is it were, with such intrepid joy, that Rodin, notwithstanding his phlegmatic audacity, was for a moment frightened. Yet he did not appear in the least disconcerted; and, after a moment’s silence, he resumed, with an air of almost contemptuous compassion: “My dear young lady, we may perhaps never meet again; it is probable. Only remember one thing, which I now repeat to you: I never justify myself. The future will provide for that. Notwithstanding which, my dear young lady, I am your humble servant;” and he made her a low bow.
“Count, I beg to salute you most respectfully,” he added, bowing still more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out.
Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and writing a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron: “I shall not see the prince before to-morrow—as much from superstition of the heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview should be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I write to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must be prepared for all.”
“You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter.” Adrienne gave it to him.
“I tell him enough,” said she, “to calm his grief; and not enough to deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I reserve for to morrow.”
“All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the prince’s abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I could not answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening’s amusement, are still to hold good.”
“Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till to morrow. I feel, too, that the fresh air will do me good, for this interview with M. Rodin has warmed me a little.”
“The old wretch! but we will talk further of him. I will hasten to the prince’s and return with Madame de Morinval, to fetch you to the Champs Elysees.”