Renee, calamity has come--no, that is no word for it--it has burst like
a thunderbolt over your poor Louise. You know what that means; calamity
for me is doubt; certainty would be death.
The day before yesterday, when I had finished my first toilet, I looked
everywhere for Gaston to take a little turn with me before lunch, but
in vain. I went to the stable, and there I saw his mare all in a lather,
while the groom was removing the foam with a knife before rubbing her
down.
"Who in the world has put Fedelta in such a state?" I asked.
"Master," replied the lad.
I saw the mud of Paris on the mare's legs, for country mud is quite
different; and at once it flashed through me, "He has been to Paris."
This thought raised a swarm of others in my heart, and it seemed as
though all the life in my body rushed there. To go to Paris without
telling me, at the hour when I leave him alone, to hasten there and back
at such speed as to distress Fedelta. Suspicion clutched me in its iron
grip, till I could hardly breathe. I walked aside a few steps to a seat,
where I tried to recover my self-command.
Here Gaston found me, apparently pale and fluttered, for he immediately
exclaimed, "What is wrong?" in a tone of such alarm, that I rose and
took his arm. But my muscles refused to move, and I was forced to sit
down again. Then he took me in his arms and carried me to the parlor
close by, where the frightened servants pressed after us, till Gaston
motioned them away. Once left to ourselves, I refused to speak, but was
able to reach my room, where I shut myself in, to weep my fill. Gaston
remained something like two hours at my door, listening to my sobs
and questioning with angelic patience his poor darling, who made no
response.
At last I told him that I would see him when my eyes were less red and
my voice was steady again.
My formal words drove him from the house. But by the time I had bathed
my eyes in iced water and cooled my face, I found him in our room, the
door into which was open, though I had heard no steps. He begged me to
tell him what was wrong.
"Nothing," I said; "I saw the mud of Paris on Fedelta's trembling legs;
it seemed strange that you should go there without telling me; but, of
course, you are free."
"I shall punish you for such wicked thoughts by not giving any
explanation till to-morrow," he replied.
"Look at me," I said.
My eyes met his; deep answered to deep. No, not a trace of the cloud of
disloyalty which, rising from the soul, must dim the clearness of the
eye. I feigned satisfaction, though really unconvinced. It is not women
only who can lie and dissemble!
The whole of the day we spent together. Ever and again, as I looked
at him, I realized how fast my heart-strings were bound to him. How
I trembled and fluttered within when, after a moment's absence, he
reappeared. I live in him, not in myself. My cruel sufferings gave the
lie to your unkind letter. Did I ever feel my life thus bound up in the
noble Spaniard, who adored me, as I adore this heartless boy? I hate
that mare! Fool that I was to keep horses! But the next thing would have
been to lame Gaston or imprison him in the cottage. Wild thoughts like
these filled my brain; you see how near I was to madness! If love be
not the cage, what power on earth can hold back the man who wants to be
free?