“Very well,” said de Linieres sternly. Then turning to the Chevalier he said, in a voice which he had never before used to his nephew: “We will return to this another time. You will remember that as head of the family its honor is confided to my care, and I will not suffer any one to sully it with a stain.”
De Vaudrey had nearly lost all control of his temper. In a moment the outbreak which the Countess was so anxious to avoid would have broken forth, had not the Count without giving his nephew time to speak said quickly:
“I leave you with the Countess. I hope that your respect and affection for her will cause you to lend more weight to her counsels than you are disposed to give to mine.”
As if fearing that he might have tried the young man’s temper too far, or that he did not wish to prolong a useless scene, the Count left the room. De Vaudrey was alone with his Aunt.
The Countess went up to the noble-looking young man, and taking his hand in hers, asked in a sweet, winning voice:
“Who is this woman you love? What obstacle prevents the avowal of your passion? 52 If it is only a matter of fortune, take mine; it is all at your disposal, and I will give it to you cheerfully.”
“Ah, where shall I find a heart like yours?” exclaimed the Chevalier in a voice trembling with emotion. “You have divined my secret. I adore a young girl as charming as she is pure. Yet never have I dared to whisper my passion!”
“Her name––her family?” asked the Countess eagerly.
“She was born of the people,” said de Vaudrey proudly, yet tenderly. “She is an orphan and lives by the labor of her hands.”