“Well, what guarantee will you give me?” replied Julien with a sharp, firm intonation, which seemed to abandon for a moment the prudent forms of diplomacy. “What guarantee, what god will warrant that the position to which you seem inclined to restore me at the present moment will last more than two days?”
“The excess of my love, and my unhappiness if you do not love me,” she said to him, taking his hands and turning towards him.
The spasmodic movement which she had just made had slightly displaced her tippet; Julien caught a view of her charming shoulders. Her slightly dishevelled hair recalled a delicious memory....
He was on the point of succumbing. “One imprudent word,” he said to himself, “and I have to start all over again that long series of days which I have passed in despair. Madame de Rênal used to find reasons for doing what her heart dictated. This young girl of high society never allows her heart to be moved except when she has proved to herself by sound logic that it ought to be moved.”
He saw this proof in the twinkling of an eye, and in the twinkling of an eye too, he regained his courage. He took away his hands which Mathilde was pressing in her own, and moved a little away from her with a marked respect.
Human courage could not go further. He then busied himself with putting together madame de Fervaque’s letters which were spread out on the divan, and it was with all the appearance of extreme politeness that he cruelly exploited the psychological moment by adding,
“Mademoiselle de la Mole will allow me to reflect over all this.” He went rapidly away and left the library; she heard him shut all the doors one after the other.
“The monster is not the least bit troubled,” she said to herself. “But what am I saying? Monster? He is wise, prudent, good. It is I myself who have committed more wrong than one can imagine.”
This point of view lasted. Mathilde was almost happy today, for she gave herself up to love unreservedly. One would have said that this soul had never been disturbed by pride (and what pride!)
She shuddered with horror when a lackey announced madame le Fervaques into the salon in the evening. The man’s voice struck her as sinister. She could not endure the sight of the maréchale, and stopped suddenly. Julien who had felt little pride over his painful victory, had feared to face her, and had not dined at the Hôtel de la Mole.