“It would need more than one to conquer this fair citadel, my lord, though you are a bold and successful captain, not used to encountering any serious resistance, and sweeping everything before you; and, moreover, it is guarded by the vigilant sentinel of a pure and devoted love.”
“Oh ho! she has a lover then, this modest Isabelle!” cried the young duke, in a tone at once triumphant and annoyed, for though on the one side he had no faith in the steadfast virtue of any woman, on the other he was vexed to learn that he had a successful rival.
“I said love, not lover,” continued the landlord with respectful persistency, “which is by no means the same thing. Your lordship is too well versed in such matters not to appreciate the difference. A woman that has one lover may have two, as the old song says; but a woman who loves, with a pure love, and has that love returned in every sense, it is impossible, or at least very difficult, to win away from it. She possesses already everything that you, my lord, or any one, could offer for her acceptance.”
“You talk as if you had been studying the subject of love diligently—and Petrarch’s sonnets as well; but notwithstanding all that, Maître Bilot, I don’t believe you thoroughly understand anything outside of your own wines and sauces, which, I am bound to admit, are always excellent. And pray, who is the favoured object of this Platonic attachment?”
“One of the members of the troupe,” Bilot replied, “and it is not to be wondered at, for he’s a handsome young fellow, and very different from the rest of them; far superior, more like a gentleman than an actor; and I shrewdly suspect he is one,” added the landlord, with a knowing look.
“Well, now you must be happy!” said the Chevalier de Vidalinc to his friend. “Here are unexpected obstacles in plenty, and a perfect none-such of a prize. A virtuous actress is a rare phenomenon, not to be found every day in the week. You are in luck!”
“Are you sure,” continued the young duke, still addressing the landlord, and without paying any attention to the last remark, “that this chaste Isabelle does not accord any privileges secretly to that conceited young jackanapes? I despise the fellow thoroughly, and detest him as well.”
“Your lordship does not know her,” answered Maître Bilot, “or I should not need to declare, as I do, that she is as spotless as the ermine. She would rather die than suffer a stain upon her purity. It is impossible to see much of her without perceiving that; it shines out in everything that she says and does.”
Hereupon a long discussion followed as to the best manner of conducting the attack upon this fair citadel, which the young nobleman became more and more determined to conquer, as new difficulties were suggested. The worthy landlord, who was a shrewd fellow and had made a just estimate of Isabelle’s character, finished by advising his noble interlocutor to turn his attention to Serafina, “who was very charming, and not less beautiful than Isabelle, and who would be greatly pleased and flattered by his lordship’s notice.” This, because he felt sure that the duke would not succeed with Isabelle, in spite of his exalted rank, handsome person, and immense wealth, and he wished to spare him an inevitable disappointment.
“It is Isabelle that I admire, and will have,” said Vallombreuse, in a dry tone that put an end to the discussion. “Isabelle, and no other, Maître Bilot.”