"My child," said Signora Rovero, in a tone of affectionate reproach, "what must a man do to win your love?"
"I do not know; I am certainly foolish, but I am afraid!"
Maulear found the courier of the French embassy in his room. "An urgent letter from France," said he, to Maulear.
Henri read the direction and shuddered. It was from the Prince de Maulear. The Prince wrote rarely. What did he ask? The son who felt that he had acted incorrectly in disposing of his hand, without consulting the head of his family, trembled before he broke the seal. The character of Maulear was weak, as we have said, and, like people of this kind, the prospect of danger and misfortune annoyed him more than the reality itself. At last he resolved to know all, and with a trembling hand opened the letter. He read as follows:
"Paris, April 10, 1816.
"My Son:—I often hear of you, not through your own letters, for you write rarely, but through other friends, whom I have requested to keep me au fait. I know what kind of life you lead at Naples, and am dissatisfied with you. The son of a shop-keeper and a banker would act more like a gentleman than you. People talk of you here no better than they do of the deputy of the hangman. I had hoped the Marquis de Maulear would behave more correctly in a foreign country. I was no older than you are, when I went as secretary of legation to Madrid. Three months afterwards I was recalled. I had run away with three women, fought four duels, and lost at cards fifty thousand crowns. That was something to be recalled for. It was an assurance that in future I would be reasonable. When our youth reasons, and does not laugh, things go wrong. The King spoke to me yesterday about you. He asked me, if you found any thing to amuse you at Naples. I replied that you found too much to amuse you. 'I am glad of it,' said the King, 'so our family honor at least is saved.' Since, however, you are most ignobly virtuous, I have tried to turn the affair to the best advantage. I have brought about a magnificent match for you, to supersede one I have heard you were making for yourself. The lady is rich, noble, and beautiful. She is the daughter of the Duke d'Harcourt, one of the gentlemen in waiting of his majesty. You may, perhaps, at Naples have seen René d'Harcourt, the brother of the lady. The marriage will take place three months hence. I trust I have surprised you not unpleasantly. Adieu, my son. Your aunt, the Countess, sends her love to you, and amuses herself with the preparation of your corbeille.
"Le Prince De Maulear.
"P.S. You have three months' more folly before you, and for the rest of your life you must be prudent. I have opened a credit of one hundred thousand livres in your favor, with the banker Antonio Lamberti."
The letter fell from the hands of the Marquis, and he sank on his chair completely overwhelmed. Like a thunder-bolt, it aroused him from a happy dream. There are, in fact, in all love matters, certain moments of intoxication, when men, ordinarily sensible, become blunderers. For a month the Marquis had been in this condition, half reasonable, half mad. Living with one thought prominent, all others were indistinct to him. To him love was every thing. His father, with his antiquated obstinacy, imbued with retrograde principles, disappeared like a ghost before the brilliant reality of passion. Besides, fear of a rival, dread of the brilliant Count Monte-Leone, who, full of love, as Henri had heard, aspired to nothing more than to become the husband of Aminta left him no other alternative, than to do what another was about to—make an offering of his hand and faith. Lovers, too, see nothing but the object of their passion; and Henri sometimes thought his father would agree with him. The strange epistle of the Prince had however reversed all his dreams. The anger of the Prince when he should learn that a marriage had been contracted, contrary to his wishes, and in spite of his orders, might possibly exert a terrible influence on the fortune and future fate of the young couple; without regarding the chagrin and humiliation to which he would subject Aminta by bringing her into a family without the consent of its head.
Maulear passed three days in this cruel perplexity, sometimes hoping and then fearing that Aminta would yield to his prayer. His heart wished. His mind feared. If Signorina Rovero should accept his hand, it would be necessary for him to decide, to act; and then, from the weakness of his character, Maulear would be subjected to cruel uncertainty.