"Randolphe is wretchedly poor, my lord, as you say; but there is no one
of your people hereabouts who is less so."
The youth's reply was, that in the question of arrangements for
receiving the Dauphiness, he supposed the principal peasants belonging
to the chateau would be spoken to; and he had mentioned Randolphe,
understanding him to be one of them.
Marie saw that this youth was the one who had stared her out of
countenance at the stile, the afternoon before: the same who had talked
with her brothers on the verge of the wood.
The Count was for dismissing his visitors at once, saying that they
would not answer his purpose for the arrangements of which he had meant
to speak with them. They were not, however, let off so easily as they
had now begun to hope. The young man asked some questions from the
window, which put it into the Count's head to ask more, till Randolphe
thought it prudent not to keep back his story, but to request the
Count's consent to Marie's marriage, as if that had been his own part of
his errand this morning.
The Count evidently cared nothing about the matter, and would have given
his consent as a matter of course, if his son Casimir had been anywhere
but in the room. As it was, there were so many questions, the inquiries
about Charles were so minute, that Marie grew vexed and angry, and by a
look invited her father to say something about the Count's time and be
gone. The youth who was reading certainly pitied her, for he said,
without raising his eyes from his newspaper,--
"Be quiet, Casimir. Casimir, how can you? Do leave these poor people
to make themselves happy their own way. It is no concern of yours."
"It is my father's concern that his people should not live on his land
when they cannot do service for it. Why, it appears they have not
anything like a cottage to go to. My father cannot look to them for
anything. You see, sir, you can depend upon them for nothing, in their
present circumstances: and I do not see how you can consent to their
marrying yet. If this fellow Charles, now, would do his duty, and serve
for three years, there would be some chance for their settling
comfortably afterwards. They would lose nothing by waiting, if they
settled comfortably at last."
"Please your lordship," said Randolphe, in a hoarse voice, "they have
waited so very long already, and there is no prospect--"
He glanced at Marie to see how she bore this. She seemed to be just
falling; and he drew her arm within his, to keep her up.
"We will take care that there is a prospect," said Casimir. "We do not
intend to lose sight of you. We may do some kind things for Marie."
Marie tried to speak; but before she could utter a sentence, the Count
discovered that the valet had arrived at the last bow of the pig-tail,
and that he must make a decision, and conclude this interview. He
therefore pronounced that Charles should be sent on military service for
three years, and gave orders to the bailiff to see that the young man
was brought in for the purpose, in the course of the morning. He then
bade good-day to his peasant dependent, and hoped he would see better
times, and do the best he could for the young people before their
wedding-day, as he would now have a considerable interval in which to
meditate his duty as a parent to so pretty a daughter.
While the Count was saying this, Casimir slipped round towards the door,
and, as Marie passed near him, thrust a piece of gold into her hand.
Marie had never had a piece of gold in her hand before, and she did not
like it now. She looked at Casimir with such a look as he had never
before met from human eyes, and threw his gift between his two dogs in
the window.
The Count did not see nor heed this. Randolphe thought his graver son
did; for there was a sudden crackle of the newspaper, and the reader's
face was crimson to the temples.
"We have one friend there, I fancy," muttered the unhappy father, as he
went out. "But for that, I think you and I had better drown ourselves
in the ponds between this and home."
"Charles!" gasped Marie in his ear. "Send Charles away! I can get home
alone."
Her father took the hint. They parted in the shade of the avenue, as
soon as they could suppose themselves unwatched from the chateau.
Randolphe cut across into the wood where he had seen Charles half an
hour before, while Marie went homewards with tottering steps, looking
away from the ponds, from a feeling that her state of mind was too
desperate for her to trust herself on the brink of deep waters.