"It's all over," thought Emile. "My assiduity has been observed, and although Monsieur Antoine and his daughter have no suspicion as yet, Janille has made up her mind to turn me out. Her power here is absolute and the critical moment has arrived. Well, Mademoiselle Janille," he said, "I will come to see you to-morrow. I shall take great pleasure in talking with you."
"How well that happens," said Janille; "I am very anxious to talk too! But I have some flax to pick to-morrow and I shall not expect you until the next day. That is understood; I shall be at home all day; don't fail to come. Good-night, Monsieur Emile, we will have a good friendly talk. Oh! you see I too am very fond of you!"
There was no longer any doubt in Emile's mind; the housekeeper at Châteaubrun had opened her eyes to his love. Some officious neighbor was beginning to be surprised to see him so often on the road to the ruins. Antoine knew nothing as yet, nor Gilberte; for the latter, when she told him that her father was going away for a few days, could not have foreseen that Janille would arrange for her to go with him. The shrewd housekeeper had laid her plans well: first to get Emile out of the way, and then to arrange for Gilberte to go away unexpectedly, thus making sure of a few days in which to avert the little outbreak which she anticipated on the young man's part.
"Well, then, I must speak," said Emile to himself; "and why should I recoil from the inevitable end of my secret aspirations? I will tell her loyal governess and her excellent father that I love her and aspire to her hand. I will ask for a little time to broach the subject to my father and come to an understanding with him as to my choice of a career, for I have made none as yet, and my fate must be decided. There will be a fierce struggle, but I shall be strong, for I love. It is not a question of myself alone, so I shall have invincible courage, I shall have the gift of persuasion, I shall carry the day!"
Despite all this confidence, Emile passed the night in horrible perplexity. He imagined the conversation he was about to have with Janille, and he could have written out the questions and answers, so well he knew the little woman's self-possession and outspokenness.
"Ah! but you must speak to your father first of all, monsieur,"—she would surely say,—"and have an understanding with him; for it is quite useless to disturb Monsieur Antoine's mind with a conditional request, with projects that may not be realized. Meanwhile, do not come here any more, or come very little, for no one is supposed to be aware of your intentions, and Gilberte is not the girl to listen to you unless she is sure that she can be your wife."
Then, too, he feared that Janille, who was very matter-of-fact, would treat the possibility of Monsieur Cardonnet's consent as a pure delusion, and would forbid him to make frequent visits unless he should produce satisfactory proof that he was at liberty to choose for himself.
Thus was it fully demonstrated that Emile must enter upon the conflict with his father first of all, and must govern his actions accordingly; that is to say, go infrequently to Châteaubrun until he had reason to entertain a strong hope of victory, or, if he had no ground for hope, to abstain forever from destroying the happiness of the family of Châteaubrun by fruitless overtures—in a word, he must go away and renounce Gilberte.
But it was utterly impossible for Emile to include that alternative among the possibilities. The idea of death would find its way more easily into an infant's head than that of renouncing the woman he loves into the head of a man who is deeply in love.
Thus Emile could more readily conceive the possibility of blowing out his brains before his father's eyes than of yielding to his will. "Very well!" he said to himself, "I will speak to-morrow to this terrible master, and I will speak to him in such a way that I shall be able to appear at Châteaubrun with my head erect."