How this had all been arranged it is needless to repeat, though the eager supplication of the daughter and the generous concessions of the parents made a very pretty scene as I heard it described; but I must not make my story too long. To avoid this, I will now slide over six years, and bring you to a fine morning in the year 1811, when Isabeau and Alexa, on returning from a ramble in the village, found Madame de G* * * with an open letter in her hand, and an air of unusual excitement in her manner.
"Isabeau, my dear child," she said, "your father's oldest friend, the Vicomte de C* * *, is returned from Spain. They are come to pass a month at V——; and this letter is to beg your father and me to bring you to them immediately, for they were in the house when you were born, my child, and they love you as if you were their own. Your father is gone to give orders about horses for to-morrow. Alexa dear, what will you do without us?"
"Cannot Alexa go too, mamma?" said Isabeau.
"Not this time, my dear: they speak of having their chateau filled with guests."
"Oh, dearest Isabeau! do not stand to talk about me; you know I do not love strangers: let me help you to get everything ready."
The party set off the next morning, and Alexa, for the first time since she became an inhabitant of Château Tourelles, was left without Isabeau, and with no other companion than their stiff governess; but she rallied her courage, and awaited their return with all the philosophy she could muster.
Time and the hour wear through the longest fortnight, and at the end of this term the trio returned again. The meeting of the two friends was almost rapturous: Monsieur and Madame had the air of being parfaitement contents, and all things seemed to go on as usual. Important changes, however, had been decided on during this visit. The Vicomte de C. had one son. He is the hero of my story, so believe him at once to be a most charming personage in all ways—and in fact he was so. A marriage between him and Isabeau had been proposed by his father, and cordially agreed to by hers; but it was decided between them that the young people should see something more of each other before this arrangement was announced to them, for both parents felt that the character of their children deserved and demanded rather more deference to their inclinations that was generally thought necessary in family compacts of this nature.
The fortnight had passed amidst much gaiety: every evening brought waltzing and music; Isabeau sang à ravir; but as there were three married ladies at the chateau who proclaimed themselves to be unwearying waltzers, young Jules, who was constrained to do the honours of his father's house, had never found an opportunity to dance with Isabeau excepting for the last waltz, on the last evening; and then there never were seen two young people waltzing together with more awkward restraint.
Madame de G* * *, however, fancied that he had listened to Isabeau's songs with pleasure, and moreover observed to Monsieur son Mari that it was impossible he should not think her beautiful.
Madame was quite right—Jules did think her daughter beautiful: he thought, too, that her voice was that of a syren, and that it would be easy for him to listen to her till he forgot everything else in the world.