Luckily for Juliette, she had a friend upon whose bosom she could pour out her heart, to whom she told all her troubles and her hopes—in short, everything that took place in her heart and in her mind.
She was a boarding-school friend, but was six years older than Juliette; they were in perfect accord, however, in their views, their feelings, and their sentiments. The friend had married immediately upon leaving school; she had not been able to obtain permission for Juliette, who was then only fourteen, to come to her wedding; but Juliette's father had consented to her receiving her friend's visits. Knowing that she was rich, Monsieur Mirotaine thought that she could not be an undesirable acquaintance for his daughter.
It is needless to say that when Juliette fell in love with Lucien her passion was confided to her tender-hearted friend, as well as the disappointments of the lovers, their hopes, and their plans for the future. Meanwhile, the friend had lost her husband; but as she had not married for love, it is probable that she shed very few tears on her young friend's breast.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon; Juliette was alone in her chamber and even more melancholy than usual; we shall soon know the reason. She had at least the satisfaction of having a chamber to herself, where she could weep at her ease; a narrow corridor led to it from the reception-room, so that to reach it one was not obliged to pass the whole suite. Hence, the girl might, in an emergency, have received a secret visit from Lucien; he might have slipped into her room from the dining-room. But Juliette would not allow it; she felt that it would be wrong to receive a young man secretly in her bedroom; she did not wish to expose herself to her stepmother's remonstrances and her father's anger. But Juliette was unhappy; she sighed, and sometimes wept a large part of the day.
It was with a cry of joy, therefore, and a feeling of the utmost satisfaction that she saw that friend enter her room, to whom alone she could pour out her heart.
"Ah! Nathalie, at last!" said Juliette, running to meet the young widow, who began by kissing her. "What a long time since you came to see me! fie, madame! it is wicked of you to neglect me so, when I have no other friend, no other consolation, but you! Come, sit down here with me this minute. Oh! how happy it makes me to see you!"
"Don't scold me, my dear Juliette; the reason that I haven't been to see you for some time is that I haven't been very well."
"Oh, dear! that was all that was wanting—that you should be sick! You ought to have written to me; I would have shown father your letter, and he couldn't have refused to let me go to see you and nurse you."
"It wasn't worth while; it's all over now, as you see."
"Why, no—no, you are a little pale."