My dear friend,--How is it possible that you,who brought yourself in two months to marry a broken-down invalid in order to mother him,should know anything of that terrible shifting drama,enacted in the recesses of the heart,which we call love--a drama where death lies in a glance or a light reply?
I had reserved for Felipe one last supreme test which was to be decisive.I wanted to know whether his love was the love of a Royalist for his King,who can do no wrong.Why should the loyalty of a Catholic be less supreme?
He walked with me a whole night under the limes at the bottom of the garden,and not a shadow of suspicion crossed his soul.Next day he loved me better,but the feeling was as reverent,as humble,as regretful as ever;he had not presumed an iota.Oh!he is a very Spaniard,a very Abencerrage.He scaled my wall to come and kiss the hand which in the darkness I reached down to him from my balcony.He might have broken his neck;how many of our young men would do the like?
But all this is nothing;Christians suffer the horrible pangs of martyrdom in the hope of heaven.The day before yesterday I took aside the royal ambassador-to-be at the court of Spain,my much respected father,and said to him with a smile:
"Sir,some of your friends will have it that you are marrying your dear Armande to the nephew of an ambassador who has been very anxious for this connection,and has long begged for it.Also,that the marriage-contract arranges for his nephew to succeed on his death to his enormous fortune and his title,and bestows on the young couple in the meantime an income of a hundred thousand livres,on the bride a dowry of eight hundred thousand francs.Your daughter weeps,but bows to the unquestioned authority of her honored parent.Some people are unkind enough to say that,behind her tears,she conceals a worldly and ambitious soul.
"Now,we are going to the gentleman's box at the Opera to-night,and M.le Baron de Macumer will visit us there.""Macumer needs a touch of the spur then,"said my father,smiling at me,as though I were a female ambassador.
"You mistake Clarissa Harlowe for Figaro!"I cried,with a glance of scorn and mockery."When you see me with my right hand ungloved,you will give the lie to this impertinent gossip,and will mark your displeasure at it.""I may make my mind easy about your future.You have no more got a girl's headpiece than Jeanne d'Arc had a woman's heart.You will be happy,you will love nobody,and will allow yourself to be loved."This was too much.I burst into laughter.
"What is it,little flirt?"he said.
"I tremble for my country's interests ..."
And seeing him look quite blank,I added:
"At Madrid!"
"You have no idea how this little nun has learned,in a year's time,to make fun of her father,"he said to the Duchess.
"Armande makes light of everything,"my mother replied,looking me in the face.
"What do you mean?"I asked.
"Why,you are not even afraid of rheumatism on these damp nights,"she said,with another meaning glance at me.
"Oh!"I answered,"the mornings are so hot!"
The Duchess looked down.
"It's high time she were married,"said my father,"and it had better be before I go.""If you wish it,"I replied demurely.
Two hours later,my mother and I,the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and Mme.d'Espard,were all four blooming like roses in the front of the box.I had seated myself sideways,giving only a shoulder to the house,so that I could see everything,myself unseen,in that spacious box which fills one of the two angles at the back of the hall,between the columns.
Macumer came,stood up,and put his opera-glasses before his eyes so that he might be able to look at me comfortably.
In the first interval entered the young man whom I call "king of the profligates."The Comte Henri de Marsay,who has great beauty of an effeminate kind,entered the box with an epigram in his eyes,a smile upon his lips,and an air of satisfaction over his whole countenance.
He first greeted my mother,Mme.d'Espard,and the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse,the Comte d'Esgrignon,and M.de Canalis;then turning to me,he said:
"I do not know whether I shall be the first to congratulate you on an event which will make you the object of envy to many.""Ah!a marriage!"I cried."Is it left for me,a girl fresh from the convent,to tell you that predicted marriages never come off."M.de Marsay bent down,whispering to Macumer,and I was convinced,from the movement of his lips,that what he said was this:
"Baron,you are perhaps in love with that little coquette,who has used you for her own ends;but as the question is one not of love,but of marriage,it is as well for you to know what is going on."Macumer treated this officious scandal-monger to one of those glances of his which seem to me so eloquent of noble scorn,and replied to the effect that he was "not in love with any little coquette."His whole bearing so delighted me,that directly I caught sight of my father,the glove was off.
Felipe had not a shadow of fear or doubt.How well did he bear out my expectations!His faith is only in me,society cannot hurt him with its lies.Not a muscle of the Arab's face stirred,not a drop of the blue blood flushed his olive cheek.
The two young counts went out,and I said,laughing,to Macumer:
"M.de Marsay has been treating you to an epigram on me.""He did more,"he replied."It was an epithalamium.""You speak Greek to me,"I said,rewarding him with a smile and a certain look which always embarrasses him.
My father meantime was talking to Mme.de Maufrigneuse.
