Merodé had been so accustomed by presents, by flattery, and feigned affection, to overcome every obstacle thrown in his way by the many dark, brown, and fair beauties whom he had subdued, that he was piqued, perplexed, and even amused by the difficulty and resistance he encountered in Gabrielle. This gave her a new and dangerous charm; and, after his own fashion, he was now beginning to love her, at the very time when—had he been successful—that love would have been dying away; so he continued to string together assertions of his love and admiration, in the style of camp and barrack love-making, most familiar to him.
"You are so enchanting, Gabrielle! you are just the height I admire, and you must remember how I adored you at Vienna. Though when taken in detail, perhaps, your face is not of that kind which sculptors—the blockheads!—term strictly handsome, when taken altogether, it is divine! Your eyes are lively, full of tenderness and fire; your lips are full of smiles—(certainly not just now, by the Henckers!) but red as a rosebud; and your ankles—'pon my soul, they are very fine!"
Here Gabrielle retreated to the other window, and turned her back, but he followed her; then she began to tremble with anger.
"I do not mean to insult you—I do not mean to be rude! I have the tongue of an ass," said Merodé, beginning to speak very thick. "What is all this about? Now, if I was not a young fellow of spirit—ah pardon me, poor little Tot!—or is it a romance we are acting? I never meant to marry, but hang me as high as Mordecai, if I will not marry you, Gabrielle, ay, marry you in sober earnest—rather than not have you."
"Insult upon insult!" she murmured.
"Come, come, Gabrielle," said he, approaching a step; "listen to what I say, for assuredly your friends have forgotten you."
"It almost seems so," she replied, drowned in tears; "but even it were so, God will not forget me."
"Neither He nor they can protect you, while under the colours of the valiant regiment de Merodé."
"For pity's sake, do not, on any account, be tempted to speak blasphemy," said she.
"Der Teufel! what a difference between girls of eighteen and girls of five-and-forty; the first are as timid as the latter are forward. If I had said to the Baroness Fritz a thousandth part of the fine things I have said to you, she would have melted away in my arms at once. But what the deuce is the matter now? What is it you see; why are your eyes fixed—your nostrils dilated—your cheek flushed? Ah, damnation! am I tipsy, or blind?"