“Pardon me, Gabrielle,” said he, “I beg you, for my inconceivable weakness. But I could not indeed have any—any friendship whatever for you, to consider calmly the frightful perspective you so abruptly unfolded to me! You understand that, I imagine?”
“Yes, I expected to see all the rest greatly terrified. But you, Clement—I thought you capable of listening coolly to anything?”
“Well, my dear cousin, you had, you see, too high an opinion of my courage. However, I will endeavor to behave better in the future. Do not deprive me of your confidence, that is all I ask.”
“Oh! no, far from that, for it is on you I rely to inform the rest of the family of my resolution, and especially, and before any one else, your mother. You may imagine, Clement, that I must have her consent, and her blessing likewise. And you will plead my cause with her.”
Clement was silent for some moments. He was trying to command his voice, but it still trembled as he said: “And when do you think of starting?”
“In a week, if I can.”
“In a week!—That will be before the end of January! And have you thought of the means of making such a journey at this season?”
Fleurange hesitated. “I am quite well aware,” said she, “that it will be difficult for me to go alone.”
Clement hastily interrupted her in a terrified tone: “Alone!—I declare, Gabrielle, it is impossible to listen to you coolly, though I know your rash words must be taken seriously.”
“You must, however, take them so,” said she, in the same tone of energetic tenderness which had struck the Princess Catherine. “You must resign yourself to see me set out alone, if there is no other means of joining him.”