He smothered a curse, and his brow contracted. "Power? why have I not power as well as another? are the cold words of a ceremony more binding than the outpourings of a burning heart? Of what avail are cold formalities to souls that are blended already in devotion and love?"
"Hush Bijou," she interposed, frightened at his vehemence, "such words are a profanation. A marriage ceremony could not increase our love, but it is indispensable all the same."
He saw she was firm and that the concession must come from him.
"I see you are a slave to public opinion and church authority," he said, "but this need not be an obstacle between us and our cherished plans. It is growing late now, but if we make good speed, we could reach the village before, dark, and secure the indispensable"—he laid a peculiar stress on the word, "though unnecessary services of the curate".
"But my father—the hour," cried the distracted girl.
"They of course are of more consequence than your love and your promise," he answered coldly, "decide Fifine, for I am impatient. Your home or your love, separation or your promise."
There was a moment of irresolution, but only one, ere the deluded girl yielded everything to the object of her insane devotion. A satisfied look stole over his face as he drew her arm within his, and prepared to leave the place.
Fifine knew very little of the village roads. Bijou though not residing in the place more than three months, led through the thickest and most unfrequented paths. It was growing dark. A yellowish sort of twilight, a forerunner of the storm, was now giving place to a heavy pall of black, that was stealing a descent, noiseless and quiet as a snowflake over the earth. The stillness was doubly oppressive to the unfortunate girl, who leaning on the arm of the handsome Bijou, passed out through the quiet rustic gate, leaving her home and her father amid such rich surroundings, to brave the world with a man of whom she knew nothing, save that she loved him madly, and that his name was Bijou.
Outside the garden gate, at a little distance, stood a small covered buggy, and a horse, the latter tied to a tree and pawing the ground with irritation. Fifine was a little surprised.
"I provided for the best or worst," Bijou said untying the restless animal, and helping Josephine to enter the carriage. Then silence fell on them again. They drove very fast, for the darkness was thickening and Bijou required all his tact, to engineer his horse safely through the path. Fifine at times would forget the rashness of the step she had just taken, and would fancy herself back under the old trees that, each moment, were being left farther and farther behind, until some short words from Bijou, broke the spell of her reverie and hurled her back into the strange reality.