“Oh, well! we shall soon see. Juliette hasn’t been very well lately,”
she went on. “... but we aren’t speaking of her for the moment. Ah!
Alissa is very charming too. Come now, did you or did you not make your
declaration?”
Although rebelling with my whole heart against the word “declaration,”
which seemed to me so inappropriate and crude, I was incapable of
replying by a falsehood to this direct question; I answered, “Yes,” in
some confusion, and felt my face flame as I did so.
“And what did she say?”
I bent my head; I should have liked not to answer. In still greater
confusion and as though in spite of myself, I said, “She refused to be
engaged.”
“Well! the child was quite right,” said my aunt. “You have plenty of
time before you, Heaven knows....”
“Oh! Aunt! that’s enough now,” I said, trying in vain to stop her.
“Besides, I’m not surprised; I always thought your cousin more sensible
than you....”
I do not know what came over me at this point; my nerves were no doubt
exasperated by this cross-examination, for it seemed to me that on a
sudden my heart burst; like a child, I buried my face in my kind aunt’s
lap and cried out, sobbing:
“No, Aunt, no! You don’t understand. She didn’t ask me to wait--”
“What! Did she refuse you?” said she, in a tone of the kindest
commiseration, raising my head with her hand.
“No--no--not exactly.” I shook my head sadly.
“Are you afraid she doesn’t love you any longer?”
“Oh, no! I’m not afraid of that.”
“My poor boy, if you want me to understand, you must explain a little
more clearly.”
I was ashamed and vexed to have given way to my emotion; my aunt was
doubtless incapable of understanding the reasons of my uncertainty; but
if some special motive lay behind Alissa’s refusal, Aunt Félicie, by
questioning her gently, might perhaps help me to discover it. She soon
reached the same conclusion for herself.
“Listen,” she went on, “Alissa is coming to-morrow morning to help me
decorate the Christmas tree; I shall soon see what is at the bottom
of it all; I will let you know at lunch time, and I’m sure you’ll see
there’s nothing to be alarmed about.”
* * * * *
I went to dine at the Bucolins’. Juliette, who had, it is true, been
unwell for the last few days, seemed to me changed; her eyes had a
_farouche_, an almost hard, expression, which made her more different
than ever from her sister. I was not able to speak to either of them
alone that evening; neither did I wish to, and as my uncle seemed tired
I left soon after dinner.
* * * * *
At the Christmas tree which Aunt Plantier gave every year, there was
always a large gathering of children, relations and friends. It was
set up in an inner hall, which contained the staircase and out of which
opened the entrance hall, the drawing-room and the glass doors of a
kind of winter-garden, where a buffet had been spread. The decoration
of the tree was not finished, and on the morning of the party, which
was the day after my arrival, Alissa, as my aunt had told me she would,
came round pretty early in order to help her hang the branches of the
tree with ornaments, lights, fruits, sweets and toys. I should have
very much enjoyed sharing this task with her myself, but I had to let
Aunt Félicie speak to her. I went out, therefore, without seeing her,
and spent the whole morning in trying to while away the anxious hours.
I first went to the Bucolins’, as I wanted to see Juliette. But I heard
that Abel had been before me, and as I was afraid of interrupting a
crucial conversation, I left at once; then I wandered about the quays
and streets till lunch time.
“Great silly!” cried my aunt, when I saw her. “It’s really inexcusable
to make yourself so unhappy for nothing! There’s not a single word of
sense in anything you said to me yesterday. Oh! I didn’t beat about the
bush. I sent Miss Ashburton away as she was tiring herself out helping
us, and as soon as I was alone with Alissa I asked her straight out
why she hadn’t accepted you last summer. Do you suppose she minded?
She wasn’t embarrassed for a single moment, and answered quite calmly
that she didn’t want to marry before her sister. If you had asked her
frankly, she would have said the same thing to you; a fine thing to
make such a fuss about, isn’t it? You see, my dear, there’s nothing
like frankness. Poor Alissa! She spoke to me about her father, too,
whom she can’t leave. Oh! we had a long talk. Dear child. She’s very
sensible; she told me she wasn’t perfectly sure yet that she was the
right person for you; that she was afraid she was too old, and thought
that somebody of Juliette’s age ...”
My aunt went on, but I no longer listened; there was only one thing
that mattered--Alissa refused to marry before her sister. But was not
Abel there? After all, in his egregious conceit he was right; he was
going to pull off, as he said, both our marriages at one blow.
I hid from my aunt, as best I could, the agitation into which this
revelation, simple as it was, had plunged me, and showed her nothing
but a delight, which she thought very natural, and with which she was
all the more gratified as it seemed that it was through her that I had
obtained it; but directly after luncheon I left her with some excuse or
other, and hurried off to find Abel.
“Ah! what did I tell you?” said he, embracing me, as soon as I had
confided my good news to him. “My dear fellow, I can tell you already
that the conversation I had with Juliette this morning almost settled
it, though we talked of hardly anything but you. But she seemed
tired--nervous--I was afraid of agitating her by going too far, of
over-exciting her if I stayed too long. But after what you tell me, I
hesitate no longer! I snatch up my hat, dear boy, my stick, and I’m
off. Come with me as far as the Bucolins’ to hang on to my coat-tails,
for fear I should fly away on the road; I feel lighter than Euphorion!
When Juliette knows that it’s only because of her that her sister has
refused you--when I make my offer on the spot--Ah! my boy, I can see my
father this evening beside the Christmas tree, praising the Lord and
weeping with joy, as he extends his hands over the two couples kneeling
at his feet; Miss Ashburton will flutter off in a sigh; Aunt Plantier
will dissolve into her bodice, and the fiery tree will sing the glory
of God and clap its hands, like the mountains in the Scriptures.”
It was towards evening that the Christmas tree was to be lighted, and
that the party of children, relations and friends was to assemble. Not
knowing what to do with myself, sick with anxiety and impatience, after
I had left Abel I started on a long walk over the cliffs, so as to get
over the time of waiting as best I could--lost my way, and altogether
managed so cleverly, that when I got back to Aunt Plantier’s the party
was already in full swing.
As soon as I got into the hall, I caught sight of Alissa; she seemed
to be waiting for me, and came towards me at once. She was wearing
round her neck, in the opening of her bodice, a little, old, amethyst
cross, which I had given her in memory of my mother, but which I had
never seen her wear before. Her features were drawn, and the look of
suffering on her face smote my heart.
“Why are you so late?” she said rapidly and breathlessly. “I wanted to
speak to you.”
“I lost my way on the cliffs.... But you’re ill.... Oh, Alissa! what is
the matter?”
She stood before me a moment, as though she were struck dumb, her
lips trembling. So sickening a dread took hold of me that I dared not
question her. She put her hand on my neck, as though to pull my face
towards her; I saw she wanted to speak, but at that moment some guests
came in; disheartened, she let her hand drop....
“It is too late,” she murmured. Then, seeing my eyes fill with tears,
she added in reply to my enquiring look--as though such a derisory
explanation could suffice to tranquillise me!--
“No ... don’t be alarmed: I’ve only a headache, the children make such
a noise ... I had to take refuge here ... it’s time to go back to them
now.”
She left me abruptly. Some people coming in separated me from her. I
thought I should be able to rejoin her in the drawing-room. I caught
sight of her at the other end of the room, surrounded by a troop of
children whose games she was organising; between her and me there were
a number of people whom I knew, and whom I should not have been able
to venture past without running the risk of being stopped. I felt
incapable of civilities, of conversation; perhaps if I edged along the
wall ... I tried.
Just as I was going to pass in front of the large glass doors which led
into the garden, I felt my arm seized. Juliette was there, half hidden
in the embrasure, behind the folds of the curtain.
“Let’s go into the conservatory,” she said, hastily. “I want to speak
to you. Go on by yourself; I’ll meet you there directly.” Then, half
opening the door for a moment, she slipped into the garden.
What had happened? I wished I could see Abel. What had he said? What
had he done? Returning to the hall, I made my way to the conservatory,
where Juliette was waiting for me.
Her face was flaming, her frowning brows gave her look an expression
of hardness and pain; her eyes shone as if she were feverish; even her
voice was harsh and tense. A sort of fury inspired her; notwithstanding
my anxiety I was astonished--embarrassed almost--by her beauty. We were
alone.
“Has Alissa spoken to you?” she asked at once.
“Barely two words; I came in very late.”
“You know she wants me to marry before she does?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me fixedly ...
“And do you know whom she wants me to marry?”