But the clock struck eleven.
“Already!” said Caroline; “how the time flies!”
I was by her side, I held her in my arms, I rested my head on her shoulder; silence had followed our bursts of merriment, but silence expresses the emotion of the heart better than the noisy outbursts of folly.
“It is very late,” said Caroline, in an undertone.
“Must I go?” I said; “aren’t you your own mistress now?”
She lowered her eyes and made no reply; but did I need any other avowal than that? She defended herself very feebly; and I was such an expert lady’s-maid that in an instant she was in her night costume, if it may be called a costume. To be sure, I tore and broke whatever came in my way: strings, laces, and pins. Those were very trifling obstacles; luckily, fashion does not decree that our ladies must be clad in corselets of steel! but even so, love would find the defect in them. There was one pleasanter obstacle which I desired to find; but I am bound to confess that it did not exist. Ah! Mademoiselle Caroline, I might have suspected as much! But what does it matter, after all? Was she any less pretty on that account? No, to be sure; perhaps, indeed, it was that that gave to her face that expression of coquettish malice which fascinated me. But I could not help thinking that another man had obtained much more than I without providing her with an apartment; however, for my encouragement, I recalled the ballad:
“The first step’s taken unreflecting.”
Not until the second does reflection take a hand; therefore, there is much more glory in inducing the second step than the first; I tried to persuade myself that that was so.
At all events, I had no choice but to make the best of it, as there was no remedy. If I had been her husband—why, then I should have done just the same; for it is quite enough to be persuaded yourself that you are a Georges Dandin; I see no need of proclaiming it from the housetops.
So I kept all these reflections to myself; I bestowed upon Caroline caresses which she returned with a vivacity and a force of sentiment of which I should not have deemed her capable, and which I certainly should not have found in an innocent; that was one source of consolation. She swore that she would continue to love me, that she would be happy with no one but me, that she did not want to see anybody else, that she would always be faithful to me and had no desire to win the love of any other man. I said about the same to her, and we fell asleep with these touching oaths of love on our lips.