Among the sweetest hours of my dull life, I shall always count those I spent watching that noble face, irradiated by the reflections of the glowing sky and the impressions of a valiant heart.
When the story-telling was over, Mlle. Marguerite embraced her old friend, and waking up Mervyn, who was asleep at her feet, declared that she must return to the château. As I was sure it would cause her no embarrassment, I had no hesitation in leaving at the same time. Apart from my personal insignificance in the sight of the rich heiress, Mlle. Laroque was quite at her ease without a chaperon. Her mother had given her the same kind of liberal education she had herself received in one of the British colonies. And we know that the English method accords to women before marriage all that independence which we so wisely give them only when the abuse of it becomes irreparable. So we went out of the garden together. I held her stirrup while she mounted, and we set off towards the château.
"Really, M. Odiot," she said, after a few steps, "I am afraid I spoiled your tête-à-tête in the garden. You seemed to be very happy."
"Certainly, mademoiselle, but as I had already been there a long time, I forgive you; nay, more, I thank you."
"You are very good to our poor friend. My mother is very grateful to you."
"And your mother's daughter?" I said, laughing.
"Oh, I'm not so easily impressed. I am afraid you will have to wait a little before you get any praises from me. I don't judge people's actions leniently; there is generally more than one explanation of them. I grant that your behaviour towards Mlle. de Porhoët looks very well, but——" she paused, shook her head, and went on in a serious, bitter, and frankly insulting tone, "but I am not at all certain that you are not paying court to her in the hope that she may make you her heir."
I felt myself grow pale. But, seeing how absurd it would be to answer this young girl angrily, I controlled myself, and replied grandly, "Allow me, mademoiselle, to express my sincere pity for you."
She appeared very much surprised. "Your sincere pity?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, the respectful pity to which I think you have a right."