“Beautiful! thank you for her. But you see that you are impressed by this resemblance; and that is the reason why I refrained from mentioning it beforehand.”
“I understand, you feared suggesting pretensions—that I cannot indulge in.”
“I feared to be the means of your falling in love with a young person who could not aspire to a union with yourself; and that is all I feared. As long as the state of Madame d’Ionis’ fortune is not known, we must consider ourselves poor. Your father and mine fear that her husband has left nothing, and that in appointing her universal legatee, he has only made her the victim of a bad joke. In that case we will never accept the little fortune that she wishes to give up to us, and to which our rights may be disputed, as you well know. I shall marry her all the same, since we love each other, but I will not allow her to bestow the smallest piece of property upon me in this contract. Then, my sister, without any dowry whatever—for my wife will not be rich enough to give her one, and Félicie will never permit her to inconvenience herself on her account—is resolved to become a nun.”
“A nun, she? Never! Bernard, you must never consent to such a sacrifice.”
“Why not, my dear friend?” said he, with a feeling of sadness and pride that I could well understand. “My sister has been brought up with this idea, and she has always shown a taste for seclusion.”
“You mustn’t think of such a thing! It is impossible for one so accomplished not to condescend to constitute the happiness of some honest man; it is still more impossible that no such honest man should be found who would beg her to bestow this happiness upon him!”
“I do not say that such may not be the case. That is a question that the future will solve, and should Madame d’Ionis have some money, I would not put any obstacles in the way of her giving my sister a dowry, modest but sufficient for the simplicity of her tastes. Only, we know nothing as yet, and in any case it would come with very bad grace from me, to say to you, ‘I have a charming sister, who embodies your ideal.’ That would have been as much as to say, ‘Think about it.’ It would have been throwing a girl at your head who was much too proud ever to consent to enter any family richer than her own, by means of a young poet’s exaltation. Now, what I then thought, I still think, and I beg of you seriously my dear friend, not to lay too much stress upon my sister’s resemblance to the Naiad.”
I was silent for a moment; then feeling, in spite of myself, that this warning troubled me more than I could have believed, I said with brusque sincerity:
“Why then, my dear Bernard, did you bring me here?”
“Because I thought my sister had left. She was to have rejoined my father at Tours, and he was not expected here for a fortnight. Events have frustrated my plans. I am none the less easy on my sister’s account, knowing what kind of a man you are.”