But if I returned to Paris, what should I do there, tired as I was of bachelor life, and conscious of a craving to love, to attach myself to someone, and to detach myself from her whom I had loved so dearly?—No, I would marry, I would adore my wife if possible, and pray that she would prove my rock of salvation.
The result of these reflections was that I said one day in response to my sister’s entreaties:
“Do whatever you choose.”
Amélie asked no further questions; she threw her arms around me, kissed me, and, giving me no chance to add a single word, flew to Madame de Pontchartrain’s to sue for Pélagie’s hand for her brother. In half an hour she returned with the answer, which was favorable.
“She gives her to you!” she cried from the foot of the stairs; “she is yours; everything is agreed upon and settled; to-morrow I will attend to publishing the banns.”
I considered that my sister had been a little too expeditious; it was impossible now to retract; the request had been made and granted, and I was bound!—What! I was going to marry Pélagie, whom I hardly knew? It seemed to me that it must all be a joke; I could not accustom myself to the idea of being Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain’s husband.
XXX
AN INTERVIEW WITH MY INTENDED
After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to Madame de Pontchartrain’s to pay court to Pélagie in her aunt’s presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live.
Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the instant of my happiness, I could not become Pélagie’s husband in less than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody’s eyes were fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because Mademoiselle Pélagie and I had never spoken of it.
It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Pélagie which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject while playing La Sellette or Monsieur le Curé? I hoped to be less constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there; often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see Pélagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very natural to make the acquaintance of one’s wife before marriage; I felt sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to obtain for me an interview with my intended.