XXV
THE MARRIAGE TAKES PLACE
Frédéric did not pass a day without seeing Constance; since the lovers had mutually avowed their love, that sentiment seemed to grow stronger hourly in both their hearts. Mademoiselle de Valmont loved with the unrestrained ardor of a heart that no longer seeks to conceal its feelings. She was proud of Frédéric's love for her, and her happiness consisted in returning it.
Frédéric, even more passionate and impulsive, yielded to the sentiment that swept him off his feet; but, while he loved as dearly, he could not be so happy; he needed to forget himself, to banish recollections which disturbed his bliss. Like those persons who never look behind, for fear of seeing something to frighten them, Frédéric tried to drive away the thoughts that carried him back to a still recent period. He desired to think solely of Constance, he knew that thenceforth she ought to prevail over all other women; of what use, then, was an occasional sigh which would bring no comfort to her whom he had abandoned? A man may argue thus, but, none the less, even in the very bosom of happiness, there is something in the bottom of his heart that reproves him for the wrong he has done—unless, indeed, he has no heart, and there are many people in whom we should seek for it in vain.
The Comte de Montreville had been absent a fortnight. Frédéric was not certain as to the purpose of his father's journey, although he suspected it; but he had no desire to take advantage of his absence to go away himself. Could he leave Constance for a single day? Although she had set his mind at rest as to the marriage that had frightened him, Frédéric was not altogether satisfied. He begged his betrothed to question her uncle on that subject. Constance dared not mention it to the general; but at last, vanquished by Frédéric's entreaties, she made up her mind to question him, and one morning she went to him in his study.
"Uncle," she began, blushing, and lowering her eyes, "I have been told that you have been making plans for me."
The general smiled as he looked at her, then tried to assume a serious tone, with which, however, his expression did not harmonize.
"Who told you, mademoiselle, that I had made plans concerning you?"
"Monsieur Frédéric, uncle, who learned it from his father."
"The devil! so Monsieur Frédéric interests himself in it, does he? What might these plans be, mademoiselle?"
"You should know better than I, uncle."