“Don’t worry, belle dame, I will retain my self-respect.”
Edmond was walking slowly along the road; he was thinking of Agathe, whose husband he ardently desired to be; but he was thinking also of the future.
On his last trip to Paris, he had made up his accounts and tried to bring some semblance of order out of the chaos of his affairs; he had paid all his creditors and had found that he possessed only sixteen thousand francs. With that amount a tradesman may start in business on a small scale; but that was not the lot in life which Edmond desired to offer to Agathe.
“To have a pleasant voice and be able to sing decently—that isn’t enough to marry on,” he was saying to himself; “I should have done better to think of getting rich.”
Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, the young man had not seen Thélénie, who was close beside him when he raised his eyes. He started back as if to retrace his steps; but it was too late, the young woman with the great black eyes had already taken his arm, saying:
“What! you propose to turn back because you find me here? Am I so very odious to you then? Does the sight of me produce such an intensely disagreeable effect on you?”
“Not at all, madame; but it occurred to me that we had nothing to say to each other, and in that case——”
“You are mistaken, monsieur—I have many things to say to you; I am not like you! Oh! don’t be alarmed; look in all directions—we are alone, quite alone; no one will see you talking with me, and your mistress will not make a scene!”
“I have no mistress, madame; I love an honorable, virtuous young lady, and I expect to make her my wife when I am in a position to assure her a happy and tranquil future at least, if not a brilliant one. So you see that there is no question of a mistress.”
Thélénie seemed to reflect for a few moments; then she replied, assuming an air of good-fellowship: