Pressing so close to her that she could feel the pulsations of his breast, he added in low accents that cut into her heart like steel, "Be well advised, and comprehend the truth. Your life hangs in the balance for happiness or misery. Consider, and choose wisely, for this is the critical time on which your fate depends."
Then, opening the door with a bow whose distinction would have done honour to Trianon, he stood aside to let the lady pass into her bedchamber. Closing the door again, he knit his brows and bit his nails while contemplating the sleeping chevalier. "A trifle premature, that's all," he muttered; "no harm done, for all her sweeping pride. Well-meaning, vacillating women are like satin-skinned horses in the arena--all the better for a touch of the lash. It is written, my mission is to teach her love, and I will do it thoroughly from my own point of view--of course. She is inexperienced, and proud, and empty. If the fruit's not ripe, I've time to wait for it to mellow. Perhaps, who knows? I may, should she be restive, be forced to crush her pride. A pity! for it would be a charm removed. Perchance I shall only squeeze firmly, without crushing it. The snaring of a bird that is shy, whose plumage must not be injured! Shall it be tamed by kindness, or the reverse? A problem, this, that Time's slow fingers must unravel. The key to it is patience--most valuable of virtues!" He stood long, pondering as he surveyed his sleeping brother. It was as if he sought some luminous answer in those puffed and stolid features.
Next morning, Gabrielle appeared at déjeuner with pallid cheeks and red eyes, under whose lids there glinted a ray of apprehension. That Clovis's two half-brothers should both have developed, without encouragement, so ill-omened a passion! What had the future in store for a helpless woman as the upshot of so perilous a dilemma? Was it not, after all, an ugly dream--a hideous nightmare born of Erebus, that had been routed by healthful morning? Having eaten his fill, Clovis was placidly sipping claret, and forming a mimic tub out of bread-crusts. The round visage of the chevalier was as expressionless as usual.
Upon the entrance of the chatelaine, the abbé had risen to close the door with nimblest alacrity and deftest grace, and had led her to the table with ceremoniously respectful finger-tips. The evil expression was gone. Glancing nervously at him, she saw nothing but a polished bonhomie veneered with distant and deferential kindliness. He deplored her looks with ready grief, but added, for consolation, that a washed rose revives in sunshine, and becomes more fragrant for the shower.
"She mopes for lack of proper exercise," he exclaimed, with a gentle headshake of reproach. "Let us make a little party, and make a raid on Montbazon."
Clovis, busy with the bread-crusts, remarked somewhat tartly that he was much occupied, as they ought all to know; that the others had better go without him; whereupon Gabrielle turned pale. Ride with the two brothers, whose overweening and importunate affection she had so recently repulsed!
"I vow," cried facetious Pharamond, "that our Gabrielle is growing delicate. She who was wont to be active objects to exercise. Decidedly, my Clovis, we must set the miraculous tub agoing for the benefit of your delightful wife."
CHAPTER VIII.
[A NEW ARRIVAL.]
Our dear marquise--as you have realised ere this--satisfied the desire of the eye in all ways, for, combined with beauty of feature and of colour, was the suave sweetness of expression that is bred of the domestic virtues. Had she been an abbess the odour of her sanctity would have penetrated down to us in many a miraculous legend, and her carved simulacrum would have stood in many a niche and sculptured frieze along with those of other privileged young ladies. But she could not guide a husband who needed a bridle rein, neither could she decipher rebuses. The eccentric conduct of the versatile and too inflammable abbé completely mystified her. Why had he in the firelight resembled a satyr, to become in the morning so meek, and mild, and saint-like? Perhaps her prayers had been answered and, seeing the error of his ways, he had repented ere it was too late. It is disconcerting when an amorous and fervid swain inflicts burning kisses on your skin, and next day forgets the transgression. In the case of Pharamond a marvel must have been worked, for never by wink of eyelid did he attempt to recall his untoward proceedings during the storm. The episode was washed clean away by the snowdrift. He was alert, and lively, and amiable, as heretofore; always active in performing little services, inventing some new comfort or pleasure, rallying the dull, sympathizing with the weary. He knew better than to sit glum and mumchance like the chevalier. Betrayed into error, he had accepted rebuff like a gentleman, and by a marked increase of respect was trying to win forgiveness. This was quite as it should be, and there was no more to be said. And so, the clouds that threatened being dissipated, the months of winter rolled away in so uniform a sequence that their glassy flow seemed as if it must run for ever.