"Guillaume d'Ars is a good friend," replied Lauriane, "but he is too old as a husband for me. He will soon be thirty years old, and he knows the world too well; he would soon begin to consider me silly or uncivilized. His suit would have flattered me perhaps before the peace; he would have deserved some credit for offering us the support of his name when we were persecuted. He deserves little to-day, when our rights are acknowledged and our tranquillity assured. He will deserve still less if he persists in his suit, now that he knows that we are richer than we were."
De Beuvre tried in vain to induce her to change her mind. He was exceedingly vexed with her; for, even if their ages had been the same, he would have much preferred Guillaume to Mario. A son-in-law devoted to physical exercise and to the heedless pursuit of pleasure suited him much better than a cultivated mind and an exceptional character.
Lauriane remonstrated, although she used after every sentence the formula: "Your will shall be mine."—But when she said it she relied upon the promise her father had made, since, her widowhood, never to force her inclination.
De Beuvre, who had become more covetous as soon as he became richer—this transformation takes place suddenly in those of mature years,—was sorely tempted to take her at her word and to say: "It is my will."—But he was not an unkind man, and his daughter was almost the only object of his affection.
He contented himself with harassing her and depressing her spirits by talking incessantly of those material interests to which she had believed him to be so indifferent when he made his last Huguenot crusade.
She did not give way, but, in order not to wound him, she agreed to show the greatest consideration in rejecting Guillaume's suit, and to receive his visits until further notice.
[LXVI]
The Beaux Messieurs did not return to La Motte for a week. Mario had a slight attack of fever. Lauriane was anxious and wept. Her father refused to take her to Briantes, saying that it was useless to keep illusions alive. There was a slight quarrel between them.
"You will make them think me most ungrateful," she said. "After all the care and attention I received from them, it is my duty to go to nurse Mario. You should at least go there every day. They will say that you have forgotten them, now that we no longer need them. Ah! why am I not a boy? I would ride there every hour in the day; I would be that poor child's friend and companion, and I could show my friendship for him without putting a noose around my neck, or incurring blame!"
At last she induced her father to take her to Briantes. She found Mario almost recovered from his grief and cured of his fever. He seemed to have determined once more to be a child. The marquis was a little hurt by Monsieur de Beuvre's conduct. But they could not remain at odds. The parents gradually entered into conversation as if nothing had happened; Lauriane began to laugh and romp with her innocent lover.