Aloyse lost herself in thought.
"Monseigneur," said she, "if I did not know how sober-minded and open you are, notwithstanding your extreme youth, and that your every emotion is a serious and profound one, I should keep back the words which I am going to venture to say to you. But what is a joking matter to others is often a matter of serious importance to you. Remember, Monseigneur, that no one knows whose daughter Diane is. One day, the wife of Enguerrand, who had gone to Fontainebleau at that time, with his master, Comte de Vimoutiers, found, as she was going into her house, a child in a cradle at her door, and a heavy purse of gold on her table. In the purse was a considerable sum of money, half of an engraved ring, and a paper on which was this one word, 'Diane.' Berthe, Enguerrand's wife, had no child of her own, and she welcomed joyfully these other maternal duties which were asked at her hands. But on her return to Vimoutiers she died, just as my husband died, to whom your father intrusted you, Monseigneur; and as it was a woman who brought up the male orphan, so it was a man to whose care the female child fell. But Enguerrand and I, both intrusted with a like task, have exchanged our duties? and I have tried to make of Diane a good, pious woman, while Enguerrand has brought you up to be clever and wise. Naturally you have known Diane, and naturally, too, you have become attached to her. But you are the Comte de Montgommery, as can be proved by authentic documents and by public repute, while no one has yet appeared to lay claim to Diane, by producing the other half of the golden ring. Take care, Monseigneur! I know well that Diane is now a mere child of scarcely twelve years, but she will grow, and will be exceedingly beautiful; and with such a nature as yours, I say again, everything is apt to be serious. Take care! It may be that she will always remain what she is now,—a foundling; and you are too great a nobleman to marry her, and too true a gentleman to lead her astray."
"But, nurse, when I am going away, to leave you, and to leave Diane—" said Gabriel, thoughtfully.
"That is all right, then. Forgive your old Aloyse for her uneasy foreboding; and if you choose, go and see that sweet and lovely child whom you call your little wife. But don't forget that you are being impatiently awaited here. You will soon be back, will you not, Monsieur le Comte?"
"Very soon; and kiss me again, Aloyse. Call me your child always, and accept my thanks a thousand times, dear old nurse."
"A thousand blessings on thee, my child and my lord!"
Master Martin-Guerre was waiting for Gabriel at the gate, and they both mounted, and left the château.
CHAPTER II
A BRIDE WHO PLAYS WITH DOLLS
Gabriel took a by-path well-known to him, so as to go more quickly; and yet he let his horse slacken his pace, so that it seemed almost as if he were allowing the handsome beast to adapt his gait to his own train of thought. Emotions of very different sorts succeeded one another in the young man's mind, by turns passionate and gloomy, haughty and subdued. When he remembered that he was the Comte de Montgommery, his eyes sparkled, and he drove his spurs into his horse as if drunken with the breeze which fanned his temples; and then he would say to himself, "My father has been murdered, and his death is not avenged!" and his rein would drop listlessly from his hand. But all at once he would reflect that he was going into the world to fight, to make a name for himself, formidable and dreaded, and to pay all his debts of honor and of blood; and he would start off at a mad gallop as if he were really on his way to fame at that moment, until the thought came to him that he would be obliged to leave his little Diane, so blithe and pretty, when he would relapse into gloom again, and would gradually slacken his pace to a walk; as if he could thus delay the cruel moment of separation. "But," thought he, "I will come back again, after I have found my father's enemies and Diane's relatives;" and Gabriel, spurring his steed on fiercely once more, flew as swiftly as his own hopes. His destination was at hand; and surely in that young heart thirsting for happiness, joy had driven away gloom.