Young M. de Beaudrillart was as good as his word. In her wildest dreams
even his mother--whose hopes had undergone many deaths and many
resurrections--had not ventured to picture him so content to remain in
the quiet of the provinces as he proved himself. Whatever distaste he
felt, very few outward signs betrayed it. An easy temper came to his
help, and carried him lightly over rough places. He applied himself to
looking into his affairs, a work which the unlucky M. Georges had long
and vainly urged, and he showed a somewhat unexpected aptitude for
business matters. He made no protests--beyond an occasionally wry
face--against the strict economies of the household, and, to Felicie's
unbounded delight, not only refrained from mocking her pious works, but
more than once gave her unexpected assistance. To the women it appeared
as if golden days had begun, only Claire felt that here was the fruit of
M. Georges' prudent counsels, and thought it hard that M. Georges
himself should remain under undeserved obloquy. Perhaps these few
months were the happiest Mme. de Beaudrillart had ever known. Her
belief in her son was justified--more than justified--and she looked the
world proudly in the face.
Then Leon made another step in the path of surprises, and fell in love.
As has been already remarked, a rich marriage had seemed the easiest way
out of his difficulties, and again and again had been suggested to him,
not only by his mother, but by his boon companions. Fortunes were
dangled temptingly before his eyes, and he would none of them. Some
strange scruple--strange, at least, in the man--some mastering
sentiment, had rooted itself so deeply in his heart that it was not to
be disposed of. It was the noblest thing there, and it was sighed over
and laughed at, as first one, then another, tried their hand at
eradication. Leon would not give it up. He declined to marry for
anything short of love, and he had persuaded himself that he should
never know what that meant, when he accidentally caught sight of a tall,
fair, innocent-faced girl, with red-brown hair, and, once seen, would
not rest until he had contrived to hear her speak and to learn her name.
Then he went home and implored his mother to make the necessary
advances.
Mme. de Beaudrillart yielded with scarcely a word, and yet the pang to
her was great. She had been prepared for, had even urged upon her son,
a sacrifice to mammon in the shape of a wife of inferior birth and large
wealth. If such a one had been chosen in Paris she would hardly have
sighed; but it was a different matter to be asked to accept a roturiere
at their very doors. The wrong to the De Beaudrillarts became
infinitely more insulting, and though, as has been said, strong
common-sense led her immediately to grasp the advantage and to yield, it
was tolerably certain that she would never forgive the offender.
She spoke of it, however, to her daughters calmly one morning as they
were walking home from mass.--Felicie anxiously inquired for her
brother, who occasionally, though rarely, accompanied them, and was told
that he had driven that morning into Tours.
"To Tours? And so early!"
"He finds himself very often in Tours of late," remarked Claire,
significantly.
"He will have been at mass at the cathedral."
"There is some one, then, whom he wishes to see?" Claire continued.
"Does he think of marrying?"