Auguste’s opposite neighbors were two gentlemen and a lady. The latter, who sat between the two men, was directly opposite Auguste; but as she wore a very large hood, and as she kept her head lowered, he could not see her face.
“Probably she isn’t pretty,” said our traveller to himself, “or she would have raised her head before this.”
The lady’s dress was very simple—a travelling costume. The two men beside her were travelling salesmen, one in wines, the other in linens; they had begun a conversation which seemed likely not to end before they reached Lyon.
Auguste was dazed by their constant chattering about casks, veltes, jouys, Rouen silks, good years and failures; and, disgusted by the proximity of the sleepers, he was regretting that he was not with Bertrand, and longing for the first halt, when the lady in the hood moved her foot and touched Auguste’s. A “pardon, monsieur” was instantly pronounced in a very pleasant voice. This incident roused Auguste from his despondency, inspiring the wish to see the face of his vis-à-vis; and as his legs were in close proximity to hers, he moved them slightly and said a few words as to the lack of space in diligences;—an excuse for beginning a conversation. The lady replied with a “Yes, monsieur,” but did not raise her head; whereupon our young man’s curiosity became all the keener. She did not seem disposed to talk, but she did move her knees, which touched those of her vis-à-vis. Auguste was conscious of a desire to press one of those knees between his own, but was deterred by this thought: “Suppose she should prove to be ugly! How I should regret having made her acquaintance!”
Notwithstanding, the young man ventured to press one knee gently; she did not withdraw it, but she did not raise her head; and Auguste, secretly enjoying the knee-play, said to himself: “Perhaps it’s as well that I can’t see her features, for I can at all events imagine that she is charming, adorable. With that idea in my mind, the mere rustling of her dress causes me a pleasant sensation, and it helps me to forget the tedium of the journey. Ah! madame, if you are ugly, do not look up, I pray, for you would thereby put an end to a too delicious illusion.”
As they descended a hill, a violent jolt nearly overturned the diligence. The stout man and the old lady woke with a jump. At the same moment the hooded lady uttered a shriek of alarm and raised her head. Auguste saw a pretty face of twenty to twenty-five years, fresh and blooming, regular features, expressive eyes—in short, a charming ensemble which delighted him and caused him to press more tenderly the knee that was between his.
But she had already dropped her head again. The scare was at an end, the commercial travellers resumed their conversation, Auguste’s neighbors closed their eyes once more, and he, enraptured by what he had seen, moved constantly nearer to his vis-à-vis, who allowed him to place his feet on hers.
“She is lovely,” thought Auguste, “but her actions are very strange. If she allows me to press her knees like this, it must be that she likes it, or that she doesn’t dare to take offence. In the first case, she is a woman who is not inclined to avoid adventures; in the second case, she is an innocent young thing, who has never travelled by diligence before. I will satisfy myself that the second conjecture is the true one; we should always look at the best side.”
The diligence stopped at Corbeil. The two salesmen hastily left the vehicle; the stout man extricated himself from his corner with difficulty; the old woman of the green veil dropped into the arms of the man who held the door open, and Auguste, having alighted, offered his hand to the young lady in the hood. But she replied with a faint sigh:
“Thanks, monsieur, I am not going to get out.”