'Probably one night only, but I won't make any promise,' George had
said to Madame Faragon when she asked him how long he intended to
stay at Granpere. As he took one of the horses belonging to the inn
and drove himself, it seemed to be certain that he would not stay
long. He started all alone, early in the morning, and reached
Granpere about twelve o'clock. His mind was full of painful
thoughts as he went, and as the little animal ran quickly down the
mountain road into the valley in which Granpere lies, he almost
wished that his feet were not so fleet. What was he to say when he
got to Granpere, and to whom was he to say it?
When he reached the angular court along two sides of which the house
was built he did not at once enter the front door. None of the
family were then about the place, and he could, therefore, go into
the stable and ask a question or two of the man who came to meet
him. His father, the man told him, had gone up early to the
wood-cutting, and would not probably return till the afternoon.
Madame Voss was no doubt inside, as was also Marie Bromar. Then the
man commenced an elaborate account of the betrothals. There never
had been at Granpere any marriage that had been half so important
as would be this marriage; no lover coming thither had ever been
blessed with so beautiful and discreet a maiden, and no maiden of
Granpere had ever before had at her feet a lover at the same time so
good-looking, so wealthy, so sagacious, and so good-tempered. The
man declared that Adrian was the luckiest fellow in the world in
finding such a wife, but his enthusiasm rose to the highest pitch
when he spoke of Marie's luck in finding such a husband. There was
no end to the good with which she would be endowed--'linen,' said
the man, holding up his hands in admiration, 'that will last out all
her grandchildren at least!' George listened to it all, and smiled,
and said a word or two--was it worth his while to come all the way
to Granpere to throw his thunderbolt at a girl who had been
captivated by promises of a chest full of house linen!
George told the man that he would go up to the wood-cutting after
his father; but before he was out of the court he changed his mind
and slowly entered the house. Why should he go to his father? What
had he to say to his father about the marriage that could not be
better said down at the house? After all, he had but little ground
of complaint against his father. It was Marie who had been untrue
to him, and it was on Marie's head that his wrath must fall. No
doubt his father would be angry with him when he should have thrown
his thunderbolt. It could not, as he thought, be hurled effectually
without his father's knowledge; but he need not tell his father the
errand on which he had come. So he changed his mind, and went into
the inn.
He entered the house almost dreading to see her whom he was seeking.
In what way should he first express his wrath? How should he show
her the wreck which by her inconstancy she had made of his
happiness? His first words must, if possible, be spoken to her
alone; and yet alone he could hardly hope to find her. And he
feared her. Though he was so resolved to speak his mind, yet he
feared her. Though he intended to fill her with remorse, yet he
dreaded the effect of her words upon himself. He knew how strong
she could be, and how steadfast. Though his passion told him every
hour, was telling him all day long, that she was as false as hell,
yet there was something in him of judgment, something rather of
instinct, which told him also that she was not bad, that she was a
firm-hearted, high-spirited, great-minded girl, who would have
reasons to give for the thing that she was doing.
He went through into the kitchen before he met any one, and there he
found Madame Voss with the cook and Peter. Immediate explanations
had, of course, to be made as to his unexpected arrival;--questions
asked, and suggestions offered--'Came he in peace, or came he in
war?' Had he come because he had heard of the betrothals? He
admitted that it was so. 'And you are glad of it?' asked Madame
Voss. 'You will congratulate her with all your heart?'
'I will congratulate her certainly,' said George. Then the cook and
Peter began with a copious flow of domestic eloquence to declare how
great a marriage this was for the Lion d'Or--how pleasing to the
master, how creditable to the village, how satisfactory to the
friends, how joyous to the bridegroom, how triumphant to the bride!
'No doubt she will have plenty to eat and drink, and fine clothes to
wear, and an excellent house over her head,' said George in his
bitterness.
'And she will be married to one of the most respectable young men in
all Switzerland,' said Madame Voss in a tone of much anger. It was
already quite clear to Madame Voss, to the cook, and to Peter, that
George had not come over from Colmar simply to express his joyous
satisfaction at his cousin's good fortune.
He soon walked through into the little sitting-room, and his
step-mother followed him. 'George,' she said, 'you will displease
your father very much if you say anything unkind about Marie.'
'I know very well,' said he, 'that my father cares more for Marie
than he does for me.'
'That is not so, George.'
'I do not blame him for it. She lives in the house with him, while
I live elsewhere. It was natural that she should be more to him
than I am, after he had sent me away. But he has no right to
suppose that I can have the same feeling that he has about this
marriage. I cannot think it the finest thing in the world for all
of us that Marie Bromar should succeed in getting a rich young man
for her husband, who, as far as I can see, never had two ideas in
his head.'
'He is a most industrious young man, who thoroughly understands his
business. I have heard people say that there is no one comes to
Granpere who can buy better than he can.'
'Very likely not.'
'And at any rate, it is no disgrace to be well off.'
'It is a disgrace to think more about that than anything else. But
never mind. It is no use talking about it, words won't mend it.'
'Why then have you come here now?'
'Because I want to see my father.' Then he remembered how false was
this excuse; and remembered also how soon its falseness would
appear. 'Besides, though I do not like this match, I wish to see
Marie once again before her marriage. I shall never see her after
it. That is the reason why I have come. I suppose you can give me
a bed.'
'O, yes, there are beds enough.' After that there was some pause,
and Madame Voss hardly knew how to treat her step-son. At last she
asked him whether he would have dinner, and an order was given to
Peter to prepare something for the young master in the small room.
And George asked after the children, and in this way the dreaded
subject was for some minutes laid on one side.
In the mean time, information of George's arrival had been taken
upstairs to Marie. She had often wondered what sign he would make
when he should hear of her engagement. Would he send her a word of
affection, or such customary present as would be usual between two
persons so nearly connected? Would he come to her marriage? And
what would be his own feelings? She too remembered well, with
absolute accuracy, those warm, delicious, heavenly words of love
which had passed between them. She could feel now the pressure of
his hand and the warmth of his kiss, when she swore to him that she
would be his for ever and ever. After that he had left her, and for
a year had sent no token. Then he had come again, and had simply
asked her whether she were engaged to another man; had asked with a
cruel indication that he at least intended that the old childish
words should be forgotten. Now he was in the house again, and she
would have to hear his congratulations!
She thought for some quarter of an hour what she had better do, and
then she determined to go down to him at once. The sooner the first
meeting was over the better. Were she to remain away from him till
they should be brought together at the supper-table, there would
almost be a necessity for her to explain her conduct. She would go
down to him and treat him exactly as she might have done, had there
never been any special love between them. She would do so as
perfectly as her strength might enable her; and if she failed in
aught, it would be better to fail before her aunt than in the
presence of her uncle. When she had resolved, she waited yet
another minute or two, and then she went down-stairs.
As she entered her aunt's room George Voss was sitting before the
stove, while Madame Voss was in her accustomed chair, and Peter was
preparing the table for his young master's dinner. George arose
from his seat at once, and then came a look of pain across his face.
Marie saw it at once, and almost loved him the more because he
suffered. 'I am so glad to see you, George,' she said. 'I am so
glad that you have come.'
She had offered him her hand, and of course he had taken it. 'Yes,'
he said, 'I thought it best just to run over. We shall be very busy
at the hotel before long.'
'Does that mean to say that you are not to be here for my marriage?'
This she said with her sweetest smile, making all the effort in her
power to give a gracious tone to her voice. It was better, she
knew, to plunge at the subject at once.
'No,' said he. 'I shall not be here then.'
'Ah,--your father will miss you so much! But if it cannot be, it is
very good of you to come now. There would have been something sad
in going away from the old house without seeing you once more. And
though Colmar and Basle are very near, it will not be the same as in
the dear old home;--will it, George?' There was a touch about her
voice as she called him by his name, that nearly killed him. At
that moment his hatred was strongest against Adrian. Why had such
an upstart as that, a puny, miserable creature, come between him and
the only thing that he had ever seen in the guise of a woman that
could touch his heart? He turned round with his back to the table
and his face to the stove, and said nothing. But he was able, when
he no longer saw her, when her voice was not sounding in his ear, to
swear that the thunderbolt should be hurled all the same. His
journey to Granpere should not be made for nothing. 'I must go
now,' she said presently. 'I shall see you at supper, shall I not,
George, when Uncle will be with us? Uncle Michel will be so
delighted to find you. And you will tell us of the new doings at
the hotel. Good-bye for the present, George.' Then she was gone
before he had spoken another word.
He eat his dinner, and smoked a cigar about the yard, and then said
that he would go out and meet his father. He did go out, but did
not take the road by which he knew that his father was to be found.
He strolled off to the ravine, and came back only when it was dark.
The meeting between him and his father was kindly; but there was no
special word spoken, and thus they all sat down to supper.