“Those eyes will soon express nothing but the coldest disdain,” said Julien to himself, “if I allow myself to be swept away by the happiness of loving her.” She, however, kept repeatedly assuring him at this moment, in a hushed voice, and in words which she had scarcely the strength to finish, of all her remorse for those steps which her inordinate pride had dictated.
“I, too, have pride,” said Julien to her, in a scarcely articulate voice, while his features portrayed the lowest depths of physical prostration.
Mathilde turned round sharply towards him. Hearing his voice was a happiness which she had given up hoping. At this moment her only thought of her haughtiness was to curse it. She would have liked to have found out some abnormal and incredible actions, in order to prove to him the extent to which she adored him and detested herself.
“That pride is probably the reason,” continued Julien, “why you singled me out for a moment. My present courageous and manly firmness is certainly the reason why you respect me. I may entertain love for the maréchale.”
Mathilde shuddered; a strange expression came into her eyes. She was going to hear her sentence pronounced. This shudder did not escape Julien. He felt his courage weaken.
“Ah,” he said to himself, as he listened to the sound of the vain words which his mouth was articulating, as he thought it were some strange sound, “if I could only cover those pale cheeks with kisses without your feeling it.”
“I may entertain love for the maréchale,” he continued, while his voice became weaker and weaker, “but I certainly have no definite proof of her interest in me.”
Mathilde looked at him. He supported that look. He hoped, at any rate, that his expression had not betrayed him. He felt himself bathed in a love that penetrated even into the most secret recesses of his heart. He had never adored her so much; he was almost as mad as Mathilde. If she had mustered sufficient self-possession and courage to manœuvre, he would have abandoned all his play-acting, and fallen at her feet. He had sufficient strength to manage to continue speaking: “Ah, Korasoff,” he exclaimed mentally, “why are you not here? How I need a word from you to guide me in my conduct.” During this time his voice was saying,
“In default of any other sentiment, gratitude would be sufficient to attach me to the maréchale. She has been indulgent to me; she has consoled me when I have been despised. I cannot put unlimited faith in certain appearances which are, no doubt, extremely flattering, but possibly very fleeting.”
“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Mathilde.