“But not impossible.”
“I prefer to think, for my own peace of mind and your father’s, that things will turn out differently. We have never intended you to marry a man without property. The idea of your having a husband who, instead of being wealthy, has squandered all he had, and might spend what you brought him!...”
“Ah! I understand you: you do not think him sincere.”
“I do not say that! He may be changed for the present, but who can be sure his conversion will be lasting?”
“It will if it is sincere; I am sure of that, for I have studied him. He possesses one quality which I either admire or detest, according to the use made of it: he has a strong will. He has been here a month, and, having nothing better to do, I have observed him, and have not discovered a single inconsistency in his conduct. He has always shown, exteriorly at least, the same love of labor, the same desire of doing all the good he can, and the same unassuming deportment. Either he is a man of rare excellence, or is uncommonly artful. I wish I knew exactly what my father thinks of him.”
“And why this persistency in discovering a mystery of so little importance?”
“Because I do not wish to despise M. Louis if he is worthy of esteem, and it would be wrong not to encourage him in well-doing if he has entered on that path with a sincere heart. Besides, I regard what he has undertaken and all he wishes to do as admirable as it is useful. I had been wishing for such an attempt to be made here, and could not be better pleased than to see my idea so speedily realized. M. Louis is, in my eyes, either a saint or a hypocrite. I have no fancy for loving either the one or the other; but, if he is a saint, I should feel like aiding him to a certain degree. After all, mother, is there anything in the world more desirable than to do good to those around us, especially when we are so situated as to make it a duty? Have you not often said so yourself?”
“You are right, my dear Eugénie. I feel what you say, and approve of it. As I advance in years, I feel a constantly increasing desire of laboring for Almighty God, for whom I have hitherto done so little. You need not fear; neither your father nor I have any doubts as to M. Louis. Nothing we have observed or have been told leads us to think him a hypocrite. As you desire it so strongly, I will tell you your father’s secret opinion, but do not betray me. He only dislikes one thing in M. Louis: he is too devoted a Catholic. It is all in vain: we cannot induce your father to like our religion. Catholics are too ardent every way, too superstitious, he says. He distrusts the engineer because he thinks him overzealous, that is all....”
When Eugénie went to her chamber, she selected the books she wished to contribute to Louis’ library, and then retired to rest, thinking of all the good that would now be done by him, as well as herself, in a place where want and every evil passion were to be found. Her noble, ardent soul had at length found its sphere. Hitherto she had dreamed of many ways of giving a useful direction to her activity, each one more impracticable than the rest. The right way was now open. Louis had pointed it out. Eugénie longed to become the benefactress of St. M——. Her imagination and her heart were pleased. It seemed to her as if she had become another being. She prayed that night with a fervor she had not felt for a long time. Then she fell into a reverie. In spite of herself, Louis’ image continually recurred to her mind. Before she fell asleep, she murmured a prayer for poor Françoise. Her name recalled the last words of that excellent woman: “In heaven, I shall pray for him and for you!” And circumstances were tending that same day to link them together as the dying woman had joined their names in prayer. There was something singular about this that struck Eugénie’s imagination. “Can her words be prophetic?” she said to herself. “So many strange things happen!... But this would be too much. He pleases me in no way except....” And she reviewed his good qualities, then blushed for attaching so much importance to the thought....
The next morning, she went with the books she had selected the night before. Fanny accompanied her. Louis received her with the exquisite politeness he never laid aside but with a cold reserve he had resolved to maintain towards her. Their interview only lasted a few minutes. Fanny, who had been easy for some time, was greatly astonished when asked to accompany her mistress to the engineer’s office. Their conversation showed they had recently seen each other, but under what circumstances she could not make out. All this redoubled her suspicions. On her way home with Eugénie, she remarked: