Monsieur de Grandvilain once more met Aménaïde Dufoureau; she was still unmarried, although she had seen thirty-six springs.—We must never reckon except by springs, for that gives an air of youth.—Had she remained unmarried for lack of opportunity to marry, or because she had preferred to keep her heart for the marquis? We are too gallant not to believe that it was for the last reason, and the marquis probably thought the same, because that flattered his self-esteem.
Aménaïde was no longer so slender, so graceful or so willowy as she was at twenty-four, but she was still fresh enough, and her eyes, while losing their vivacity, had become more tender. Monsieur de Grandvilain, always pleased to meet the only woman over whom he had not triumphed, began again to pay court to the flower of thirty-six years. But he was no more fortunate, and that was certain to be the case. After having had the strength to resist him when he was young and good-looking, it was not probable that she would falter when he was old and faded. Monsieur de Grandvilain, still haughty and pretentious, turned on his heel once more, swearing that he would never return again, and that he would carry his homage elsewhere.
Poor old fellow, who had passed his sixtieth year, and who believed himself still capable of inconstancy! The opportunities to forget Aménaïde no longer offered themselves; time passed and brought no distraction; all the ladies became as cruel to the marquis as Mademoiselle Dufoureau, and our old rake said to himself:
“It is amazing how the fair sex changes! women no longer have such susceptible hearts as they used to have!”
At last the marquis decided to return to Aménaïde; she was approaching her forty-fourth spring, and Monsieur de Grandvilain said to himself:
“If I wait until her springs become more numerous, she will strongly resemble a winter. I am beginning to be old enough to settle down. Mademoiselle Dufoureau is not of noble birth, but she is virtuous; for twenty years she has loved me, and that deserves a reward; I will marry her.”
And our lover of sixty-nine years at last offered his hand to the maiden whom he might have married twenty years earlier.
When Mademoiselle Dufoureau heard him offer her his heart and his sixty-nine years, she was tempted to reply:
“It is hardly worth while to marry now!”
But she accepted him; and that is why the wedding of those old lovers was celebrated in the hôtel de Grandvilain, in the year 1818.