Another door was opened in the opposite wall of the little close; it let them into the village churchyard.
By the apse of the church stood an old-fashioned barouche of the kind one hardly ever sees nowadays anywhere except in the country. Harnessed to it were two thin, badly groomed horses. On the box sat a gray-bearded coachman whose bent back stuck out under his blue blouse.
Ralph and the Countess jumped into the carriage. No one had seen them. She said to the coachman:
“Take the road to Luneray and Doudeville. Be quick!”
The church was at the end of the village; and by taking the road to Luneray, they avoided passing any of the cottages. A long stretch of road rose in a steepish hill to the plateau. The two lean steeds developed the speed of first-class trotters and went up the hill at an astonishing pace.
The interior of this shabby-looking barouche was spacious, comfortable, and protected from the eyes of the indiscreet by shutters of wooden trellis-work. Indeed it conveyed such an impression of intimacy that Ralph fell on his knees and gave vent freely to his amorous exaltation.
He was choking with joy. Whether the Countess was offended or not, he decided that this second meeting, taking place in such extraordinary circumstances and after the night of the rescue, established relations between them which permitted him to omit several stages and begin the conversation with a formal declaration of love.
He did so at once and in an airy fashion which would have disarmed the most prudish of women.
“You? Is it indeed you? But how dramatic! At the very moment at which the hunt was going to tear me to pieces, Josephine Balsamo springs from the shadows and rescues me in my turn. Ah, how happy I am! How I love you! I have loved you for years ... for a hundred years! Yes, I’ve a hundred years of love in me.... An old love as young as you.... And as beautiful as you are lovely!... And you are so lovely!... One cannot look on you without being moved to the depths of one’s being.... It’s a joy; but at the same time it fills one with despair to think that, whatever happens, one will never be able to grasp your beauty in all its fulness. Your expression, your smile, their deepest meanings will forever elude us.”
He quivered and murmured: “Oh, your eyes rest on me! You do not turn them away! You’re not angry with me, then? You allow me to tell you of my love?”