"Nothing is the matter, my dear Alfred; but you know very well that lovers are never entirely satisfied. If I had any real cause for unhappiness, to whom could I more fittingly confide it than to him who sacrificed his love to mine?"
But one day more, and Mademoiselle de la Pincerie would become Robineau’s wife. All the documents were ready, the gifts were purchased, the dresses prepared. The wedding was to take place at the town; and the husband and wife were to return thence to the château, where the wedding feast would be spread. It would have been more in accordance with custom that the bride’s family should return to their own house in the town, and that the groom should go thither to fetch his wife. But among his economical plans, the marquis numbered a determination never to keep house again, but to live always at his son-in-law’s château. That is why all the family had remained there. As the marquis declared that only the lower orders danced on their wedding-day, it was agreed that there should be no ball, and no dancing at the château; but Robineau had obtained from his future father-in-law a promise not to play whist that evening.
Nearly an hour had elapsed since all the guests in the château had separated in search of repose. Robineau, who had persuaded himself that he was very much in love, and who deemed himself highly honored to enter the family of a marquis, reflected that on the following day he was to lead the superb Cornélie to the altar, that the whole town would probably go to church to witness the ceremony, and that the wedding would be talked about for a long time. Cornélie thought of nothing but the two dresses that she was to wear that day, and the anger which all the young ladies would feel who had flattered themselves that they would be Robineau’s choice.
She remembered too that she was about to be the lady and mistress at the château, and she proposed to make the most of the privileges which those titles conferred upon her.
Edouard gave but little thought to the marriage which was in preparation. All his ideas, all his affections were centered in the little valley which contained Isaure and the White House, and he had too much to think about to make sleep easy for him. The marquis and his brother Mignon were already sound asleep; the former dreaming that he had invented a way of bringing up children on vapor; the other that he was looking for pins in a haystack. As for Alfred and Eudoxie, I cannot tell you positively what they were doing.
But suddenly shrieks were heard in the part of the building occupied by the servants. It was Benoît’s voice, waking the scullions, the cook and the concierge. He called them in great haste, shouting as loud as his fright allowed him to do:
"Get up! Look at the tower! Look over there! It’s the ghost! This time they’re not likely to say that I see double!"
Mademoiselle Cheval had gone to her window; she saw a light in one of the windows of the abandoned tower, whereupon she added her shrieks to Benoît’s.
"It is true!" she cried; "there is something there; perhaps it’s a thief; that light ought to be arrested!"
All the servants were soon on their feet; and as Monsieur de la Roche-Noire had told them that he would discharge them all if they did not discover what it was that had frightened them, they thought that they had better wake their master and let him see what was taking place. So they ran to the large gallery on the first floor, on which the chief apartments opened. The shouts of the servants woke Robineau with a start. He thought that the château was on fire; so he rang for François, and his first words when he appeared were: