TWO LOVERS AND A LECTURE
It was a day of excitement in the house of Floriot the morning before
the trial. M. Floriot arrived from Toulouse on the preceding evening
and M. Valmorin planned to call on him that morning if he could find
time. Helene was at the house before ten o'clock eager to see Raymond.
He had gone to the prison early to make a last attempt to see his
client, and she put in the time of waiting by chatting with Rose and
lamenting the fact that Raymond's father could not be the judge in the
case so he would have a reasonably certain chance of winning!
"It's hard enough to get cases, isn't it?" she complained.
"I don't know anything about it," replied Rose cheerfully, "but I guess
the law is like anything else--you have to make a beginning!"
"And Raymond is beginning to-morrow!" murmured the girl, as if it had
just occurred to her. "To-morrow he is pleading his first case!"
"And a capital case to begin with it is!" declared Rose. "Everyone is
talking about it!"
"Oh, I hope he'll win!" exclaimed the girl, almost tearfully. "I
haven't thought of anything else for weeks!"
"Oh, I'm not anxious about that!" returned Rose, with the confidence
of an old and loyal servant. "M. Raymond is clever, I tell you! He'll
convince them!"
"Do you think he'll be back soon?" asked Helene, anxiously.
"That depends!" smiled Rose. "Does he know you're here?"
"I--I don't think so---No!" Helene replied, turning hastily to the
window of the study where they were talking. "I only told him that
my father would probably call on M. Floriot this morning at eleven
o'clock, and that I might come and meet him. Rose, what are you
laughing at?"
"Oh, nothing in particular."
"Don't tease me!" she pleaded.
"Well, I was laughing," chuckled the housekeeper, "because you came
here in such a hurry at half-past nine to meet your father, who won't
be here until eleven!"
Helene blushed.
"I suppose you think I'm an awfully silly girl?"
"Oh, dear, no!" Rose assured her with a grave little smile. "I'm only
too glad to see that you and Raymond love each other."
The girl's face lit up with a quick little gleam of pleasure.
"Really, does that please you?" she asked softly.
"Very much!" nodded Rose. And the next moment the girl kissed her
withered cheek.
"I brought the young man up, you know," she continued, slipping her arm
affectionately around Helene's waist. "And I feel as if he belonged to
me a little. I am very happy that he has made such a good choice."
"He is going to talk to his father about it this morning," said the
girl, timidly. Rose smiled.
"I don't think he'll surprise him much."
Helene gave her a startled look.
"You don't think M. Floriot suspects?" she gasped.
"That you and Raymond are in love with each other? Oh, of course,
not!" laughed Rose. "He would have to be blind not to see it. Everyone
in the neighborhood knows it!"
With a gasp of consternation the girl hid her face in her hands.
"The baker asked me yesterday when the wedding was to be celebrated,"
went on the housekeeper, wickedly. "And day before yesterday it was
the butcher. A few days ago the grocer made some inquiries about it,
and----"
She was apparently prepared to continue indefinitely when a joyous
voice from the doorway interrupted her.
"There you are!"
And Maître Raymond Floriot hurried in.
"Yes, there she is--quite by accident! You didn't expect to see her,
did you?" They heard her laughing as she went down the hall.
Helene managed to recover a semblance of her prim dignity as she gave
him both her hands and looked up into his dancing eyes.
"You did not expect to see me this early, did you?" she asked.
"No, I didn't expect you in the least!" he laughed. "I shouldn't wonder
if that was why I came so early myself!"
"But seriously, aren't you surprised to find me here?"
He bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"No, I'm not surprised," he replied, gravely. "I like to think that you
are as impatient as I am,--and it seems weeks since I saw you!"
"Twelve hours!" she laughed happily.
"Twelve years!"
"Have you thought of me since then?"
He answered that question in a manner that the custom of some thousands
of years has proved to be the best.
"Did you dream of me?"
"Not at all!" he shook his head and smiled. She moved away in mock
offense.
"Reality is too sweet a dream, dearest, for us to need dreams!" he
added, tenderly. This little speech was followed by a silence of
several minutes, in which occurred the performance considered proper
under the circumstances.
Helene drew gently away.
"Have you been working hard?" she asked.
"Yes, I was up at five o'clock this morning finishing my brief. I'm
quite ready now."
"And the case comes off to-morrow!" she exclaimed, softly.
"To-morrow is the great day!" nodded Raymond.
"And I'm to hear you!"
"Of course! But I'll have to find a place where I can't see you. I'd
forget what I was talking about if I caught sight of you; and just
think what it would mean if I should stutter and stammer and break down
with you in court! Why, I'd never get over it!" He shivered with a
dread that was not all feigned.
"And you've made up your mind to speak to your father to-day?" she
asked timidly, after a little pause.
"Yes, I'm going to speak to him as soon as he comes in," declared her
lover with an air of hardihood that was far from real.
"Well, you must be careful not to stutter and stammer and break down
then!" she smiled. Rose put her head in the door an instant.
"M. the President is here!" she whispered and was gone.
"Now, then, shoulder arms!" ordered Helene, in an eager undertone as
they heard the step of the father in the hall outside. She was bubbling
with inward laughter as her panic-stricken love hastily fell back out
of the direct line of vision from the door. So when M. Floriot walked
up and kissed her he did not at first see that his son was present.
"Good morning, my child!" he said with a ten der smile.
Raymond edged forward and cleared his throat. "You might say, 'good
morning, my children,' father," he suggested in an uncertain voice.
"If you like!" was the smiling reply. And taking a hand of each he
said: "Good morning, my two dear children!"
Helene ran over to his desk and returned with an enormous bunch of
roses in a slender vase.
"I brought you these this morning, monsieur," she said, looking up at
him shyly.
M. the President took them with both hands and buried his face in their
fragrance.
"They are only less charming than the donor!" he declared with a
stately bow.
"Oh, M. Floriot!" she protested with a blush, and smile. Then as he
turned to replace the' bouquet on his desk she added in a whisper to
Raymond:
"I think you might speak to him now."
"So do I!" he agreed in the same tone.
"My father told me to tell you that he would be over to see you about
eleven o'clock, M. Floriot," she remarked as he turned to them again.
"I shall be charmed to see him!"
"I'll go and bring him--if you don't mind!" she offered eagerly. M. the
President smiled.
"I'll try not to be very angry!" he assured her. The three walked
slowly out into the garden where the older man found a seat in a
little rustic house while the lovers moved slowly toward the gate. He
pretended to be much absorbed in the morning paper, but watched them
slyly out of the corner of his eye. Instead of going outside, Helene
stopped behind a big shrub that totally concealed her, and Raymond came
back with not exactly eager strides.
Within ten feet of the seated figure in the rustic house he stopped and
twice opened his mouth, but could not get out a word. His father did
not seem to have the slightest idea that he was there. He took another
timid step; and then, as the paper rustled, he bolted in the direction
of the bush that concealed his ally.
Helene stepped out, shaking with silent laughter, and waved him back
with imperious gestures. He returned once more to the attack, but again
gave way to panic at the critical moment. At last he edged up to
within conversational ear-shot and asked with a mock solemnity that did
not conceal his nervousness:
"Is M. the President extremely busy?"
"Extremely!" replied his father, without looking up from the paper.
Raymond winced slightly; and, then, raising his eyes to the sky,
murmured dolefully:
"What a beastly nuisance!"
M. the President glanced up in surprise.
"Did you want to speak to me?" he inquired, politely.
"Yes--and quite seriously!"
His father rose with a laugh and folded his paper.
"For how long?" he demanded, with a mischievous smile.
"Not very long!" Raymond hastily assured him. "At least, I don't think
it will take long to say it."
"Try it in four words!"
"I love Helene Valmorin!" he blurted out, desperately.
M. the President fell back a step, his face expressing the utmost
astonishment, but his eyes were laughing.
"Do you!" he exclaimed. Raymond gazed at him doubtfully a moment and
then saw it all.
"Did--did you know it?" he asked, sheepishly. His father burst into a
hearty laugh.
"What an old fool you must think I am!"
The lover's instinct told Raymond to strike quickly.
"And I want to marry her," he went on. M. the President nodded.
"I can quite understand that," he smiled. "Well, God bless you both and
make you happy! Is that all you want to say?"
"Yes, that's all!" breathed his son, with a deep sigh of relief. M.
Floriot gazed into the eyes that were so like the lost woman's, and all
the love and yearning that he had ever felt for mother and son shone in
his own. He stepped up to the boy and laid a hand affectionately on his
shoulder. Raymond felt the grip of the fingers as his father began to
speak.
"My boy," he said, in grave, gentle tones, "you're a good fellow, and
you've been the one joy of my life. I think Helene is worthy of you.
Love her, my lad! And love her always--whatever happens! Be her friend,
her guide, her mainstay--as well as her husband.
"Above all--do your best to understand her! Women are not always easy
to understand; but don't leave your wife out of your own life!
"Share everyone of your joys and everyone of your sorrows with her.
You will have hours of gloomy thought and bitterness, perhaps--most
men do. But never forget in those unhappy hours that a husband has a
heavy responsibility. Always remember, Raymond, my boy, that you are
responsible for the life and soul and happiness of the woman who gives
herself to you!"
The young man listened gravely with bowed head. As his father paused he
looked up with a tender smile.
"I don't think the responsibility will be a very heavy one in my case,
father," he said.
"Life sometimes proves to be exceedingly cruel, my boy," replied his
father, shaking his head.
"Valmorin will be here presently and I will have a talk with him. I
must tell him a secret before I ask him to give you his daughter's
hand."
"A secret!" exclaimed the young man, startled.
"Yes," nodded his father. "I'll tell you what it is afterwards."
Raymond felt a growing uneasiness and dread. Lovers are easily-alarmed.
"Your secret--won't--won't prevent him----?" he stammered.
"No!" replied his father with a light laugh, "ii don't think so."