He continued: “I am persuaded she would dispense with your consent less readily than I, and consequently my submission is under the guard of a will stronger than mine.”
The princess at first looked astonished; then, after a moment’s reflection, she said: “Perhaps you are right. No matter, give me your hand on this promise.”
George bent down, kissed his mother’s hand, and pressed it in his. “There it is,” said he, “and my promise—on my word of honor.”
“That is right, my child, now leave me. It is time for Gabrielle to return, and it would be better for her not to find you here.”
George rose, and, embracing his mother once more, left the room.
As soon as she was alone, the princess threw herself on her chaise longue, put both hands to her face, and burst into sobs.
CHAPTER XXV.
Fleurange hesitated a moment, then followed her natural impulse, which was always straightforward and courageous. She resolutely entered the salon by the terrace window, and when the princess raised her head she saw the young girl before her, wrapped in her white burnous, with her bouquet in her hand. Though the princess was expecting her, this sudden apparition surprised her to such a degree that she gazed at her for a moment without speaking, as if she were a supernatural vision. But it was only for a moment. Fleurange perceived that the anger she repressed in her son’s presence was now about to burst forth.
The princess wiped away her tears. Her eyes expressed at once wrath and disdain. She hastily rose, and was about to add severe words to the imperious gesture with which she pointed towards the door with one hand, and had already placed the other rudely on the young girl’s shoulder, when the latter, without arrogance and without fear, looked her in the face.