Honorine seemed embarrassed; Agathe was trembling from head to foot; and Edmond hesitated no longer.
“Madame!” he said, “I like to believe that, seeing me come to your house so persistently, you have never supposed that I was led to come by a blameworthy desire, a frivolous sentiment. But I realize, nevertheless, that it is better that I should explain myself, that I should speak to you frankly, that I should follow your example in everything. I must not leave any basis for hateful suspicions. Madame, if I tell you that I love, that I adore Mademoiselle Agathe, I shall tell you nothing that you do not know; for you must have divined that love, which it would have been very difficult for me to conceal! But, when I avow my passion for her, is not that equivalent to saying that my sole desire is to call her my wife, and that that will be my greatest joy? If I have not told you earlier, it was because I wanted to know—I wanted to be sure if Mademoiselle——”
“He wanted to be sure that I loved him, you see, my dear!” cried Agathe, unable longer to restrain her joy. “And now he is very sure of it; that is what he was waiting for before speaking.”
“Why, Agathe! what are you saying?” exclaimed Honorine; while the girl, confused by what had escaped her lips, relapsed into speechless agitation.
But Edmond impetuously threw himself at Honorine’s feet, saying:
“In pity’s name, madame, do not reprove her, and do not force her to unsay those words which have made me so happy!”
Honorine gazed at the lovers for a few moments, then smiled and took a hand of each.
“Be calm, my children!” said she; “I do not look very stern, I imagine. Come, sit here beside me, and let us talk.—You love Agathe—yes, I do not doubt it; I had guessed as much; and it is because I have faith in your honor that I have allowed your visits. She loves you, too; why should I blame her for it, if this exchange of sentiments is to result in your happiness? You wish to be her husband, but first of all it is essential that you should know the whole story of her to whom you wish to give your name.
“Agathe bears only her mother’s name—Montoni. Julia, her unfortunate mother, was loved by a young man of noble birth, Comte Adhémar de Hautmont. He did not abandon the woman who had given herself to him; he loved her dearly and intended to make her his wife; but, in order to avoid a rupture with his family, he was waiting until circumstances should favor his projected marriage. Alas! the young man suddenly disappeared; Julia never saw him again, never heard from him in any way; and when he left her, it was with a promise to see her soon, and he covered his daughter, then six years old, with kisses.”
“Why, that is most extraordinary! Did he not return to his family?”