"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Diane; "and the very first day that I saw him, when he spoke to me so tenderly, I felt drawn to him at once. It is not from policy that I am affectionate and obliging with him, but from instinct. It was not the king, not my benefactor and my patron, that I loved so dearly,—it was my father!"
"One can never be mistaken about such matters!" cried Gabriel, beside himself with joy. "Dear, dear Diane, my dearest love, I am glad that you love your father so, and that in his presence you feel the tender emotions of gratitude and love! This lovely filial devotion does you honor, Diane!"
"And I am glad, too, that you understand it and approve of it," said Diane. "But now that we have spoken of my father, and of his love for me and mine for him, and of our obligation to him, Gabriel, suppose we talk a little about ourselves and our own love; why not? Come, what do you say? We are selfish creatures," added she, with the lovely ingenousness which was hers alone. "Besides, if the king were here, he would reprove me for not thinking at all of myself,—of ourselves; and do you know, Gabriel, what he keeps saying to me every minute? 'My dear child, be happy! Be happy; do you understand? And in that way you will make me happy.' And so, Monsieur, now that our debt of gratitude is paid, let us not be too forgetful of ourselves."
"Very true," said Gabriel, thoughtfully,—"very true. Let us now give ourselves up to this attachment which binds us to each other for life. Let us look into our hearts, and see what is going on there. Let us lay bare our very souls to each other."
"Well, we will," said Diane; "that will be delightful!"
"Yes, delightful!" responded Gabriel, in a melancholy tone. "And do you, first, Diane, tell me what you feel for me. Don't you love me less than your father?"
"Oh, you jealous boy!" said Diane. "Be sure that my love for you is very different, and it is not by any means easy to explain. When I am with the king, I am calm, and my heart beats no more quickly than usual; but when I see you, oh, then I feel a curious agitation, which pains and delights me at the same time, and spreads over my whole being. To my father I can say, even before the whole world, the sweet and loving words which come to my lips; but to you, it seems to me that I should never dare to say even the one word 'Gabriel' before another soul, not even when I am your wife. In a word, the happiness which your presence brings me is as restless and unquiet—I had almost said painful—as the joy which I feel with my father is calm and peaceful; but the pain of the one is more ecstatic than the tranquillity of the other."
"Say no more! oh, say no more!" cried Gabriel, in despair. "Yes, you do love me, indeed; and it terrifies me! And yet it encourages me, too, I must say; for surely God would not have implanted such a passion in your heart, if it had been wrong for you to love me!"
"What do you mean, Gabriel?" asked Diane, in amazement. "Why should my confession, which I have the best right in the world to make to you, since you are going to be my husband,—why should it put you thus beside yourself? What danger can be hidden in my love?"
"None, Diane, none. Pay no attention to me. It is joy which intoxicates me thus,—pure joy! Such supreme happiness makes me dizzy with delight. But you didn't always love me so restlessly and with such painful sensations. When we used to walk together under the trees at Vimoutiers, you had only friendship for me,—fraternal friendship."