RESISTANCE.
Maurice could not tear himself away; he was still lingering by
Madeleine's side when Bertha and Gaston entered to pay their daily
visit. The perfect joy that rendered luminous the countenance of
Maurice, and the happy confusion depicted upon Madeleine's face,
demanded but few words of explanation. Bertha caught Madeleine in her
arms, laughing and crying, kissing her and reproaching her, over and
over again. Then she turned to Maurice, as if impelled to greet him
hardly less lovingly; but Gaston, jealous of his own particular rights,
interposed. She darted away from his restraining arms and danced about
the room, shouting like a gleeful child; then she kissed Madeleine
again; then, suddenly calming down, said to Gaston, reproachfully,--
"And you,--_you_ knew this all the time, and did not tell me? What
penalty can I make you pay that will be severe enough? I will plot
mischief with Madeleine. If we can punish you in no other manner, we
will postpone to a tantalizing distance the day you wish near at hand.
Confess that I was wise to wait! I knew Madeleine's lover would claim
her in good season, but I never suspected he was my own dear cousin
Maurice, whom she so resolutely rejected."
"Nor did I!" cried Maurice, joyously; "and if _I_ can forgive Gaston,
you must."
"All in good time; after he is fitly punished, not before! What do you
say, Madeleine? Shall we promise these two hapless swains their brides a
couple of years hence?"
"Bertha, Bertha! you have not understood," answered Madeleine, gravely,
yet with a happy smile on her sweet lips. "Maurice has no promise of a
bride; he looks forward to no bride, though I trust, you will, before
very long, give one to M. de Bois."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Bertha, completely sobered by this unexpected
announcement. "I thought you had confessed to Maurice that _he_ was the
mysterious but fortunate individual whom you loved, and whom I have been
puzzling my brains to discover."
Madeleine did not choose to respond to the statement made with such
straightforward ingenuousness by Bertha, and only replied,--
"Madame de Gramont would never give her consent to the marriage of
Maurice with the humble mantua-maker. I have too much of the de Gramont
pride, or too much pride of my own, or too much of some stronger feeling
which I can only translate into a sense of right and fitness, to become
the wife of Maurice in the face of such opposition."
Bertha looked sorely disappointed and vexed, but vented her spleen upon
the one whom she loved best, according to the invariable practice of
women. She said to Gaston,--
"There! you are no better off than you were before! That's just what you
deserve for keeping this secret from me!"
"But, Bertha, you will not be so unreasonable," urged Madeleine.
"Why not, when you set me the example? Why should I not be unreasonable
and obstinate when you teach me how to be so? You know, Madeleine, you
have been my model all my life long, and it is too late to choose
another."
Madeleine was silenced, but Bertha ran on petulantly, this time turning
to Maurice.
"How _can_ you look so happy when Madeleine says she does not mean to
marry you? I never saw anything like you men! One would think you had no
feeling."
Maurice replied: "It is so much happiness to know who possesses
Madeleine's heart, that even if she remain unshaken in her resolution, I
could not be miserable."
"And you will not mind leaving her and going to Brittany? Your plans are
not to be altered?"
"Not unless she will alter them by consenting to accompany me. You know
that my grandmother insists upon returning, and she is inexorable when
she has once made up her mind."
"Like somebody else!" said Bertha, who was decidedly irritated.
Maurice resumed: "And it is my duty not only to protect her, but to
watch over my poor father."
"And you will really, _really_ go?" questioned Bertha, doubtingly.
"I have no alternative."
"Then I am more thankful than ever," she replied, tartly, "that when my
aunt wished to make a match between us, I never thought of accepting
you! I never could have endured such a patient, contented, stoical
suitor, who would be perfectly happy in spite of his separation from
me."
Maurice laughed at this sally, but Gaston remarked, seriously,--
"Yet you demand great sacrifices from one who is not as patient and
well-disciplined. You make your wedding-day dependent upon Mademoiselle
Madeleine's, when Mademoiselle Madeleine declares that she does not
intend to name one."
"We are an obstinate family, you see!" retorted Bertha, her good-humor
returning.
"Will not your father miss you?" suggested the ever thoughtful Madeleine
to Maurice. "You have been absent very long; that talkative nurse may
not be able to restrain herself, and your presence may be needful to
preserve harmony."
Maurice admitted that he ought to return; but, after bidding Madeleine
adieu, he could not persuade himself to go back to the hotel until he
had seen those to whom he owed his present happiness.
"Ronald!" he exclaimed, as he entered Mrs. Walton's drawing-room; "long
ago I became largely your debtor, but now you have placed me under an
obligation which cannot be estimated. Oh, if I only had your energy and
promptitude of action, I might some day"--
Ronald interrupted him: "Then my mother was right, and I did not give
you bad advice in spite of my Quixotism?"
Maurice related what had happened to sympathetic listeners.
Evening was approaching; his absence from his father had been far more
protracted than usual, and before he had said half that he desired to
say, or listened to half that he wished to hear, he was compelled to
leave.
When the hand of Maurice was on the door of his grandmother's _salon_,
he could distinguish the sound of angry voices within,--his
grandmother's sonorous tones and the sharper voice of Mrs. Gratacap. As
he entered, the latter was saying,--
"It's a sin and a shame, I tell you! And I'll not have the poor dear
made miserable in that way, while he is under my charge. I'm not going
to submit to it; and you know you can't frighten me with all your high
ways."
Mrs. Gratacap was standing beside the count, as though to protect him;
Madame de Gramont was seated directly before him, and looking highly
incensed. Count Tristan himself appeared to be in great tribulation, and
grasped the hand of his nurse with a dependent air. As soon as he caught
sight of Maurice, he cried out,--
"I'm not going! I'm not going, I say! Maurice, come, come and tell her!"
"What has happened?" inquired Maurice, with deep concern.
The countess attempted to speak, but Mrs. Gratacap was too quick for
her.
"Here's the madame has been talking to the poor dear until she has
driven him half wild. I never saw anything like it in my born days; she
wont give him one moment's peace! He was doing well enough until she
began _jawing_ him."
It is to be hoped that the countess did not understand the meaning of
this last, not very classical expression.
"Will you be silent, woman?" said she, wrathfully.
Mrs. Gratacap was about to answer; but Maurice silenced her by a
reproving look, and then asked again,--
"What has happened? Why does my father seem so much distressed?"
"I have been preparing his mind"--began the countess.
Mrs. Gratacap broke in, "Upsetting his mind, you mean."
Before Madame de Gramont could answer, Maurice said to the nurse, in a
persuasive tone, "Pray leave us, for a little while, Mrs. Gratacap."
"I wouldn't contrary you for the world!" returned the nurse. "Only when
_she's_ done, just you come to _me_ and I'll give you the rights of the
case."
Mrs. Gratacap departed, and the countess continued,--
"I have been explaining to your father that we are shortly to leave this
execrable country and return to Brittany, and that he has great cause
for congratulation; but he did not seem to comprehend me clearly, and
that woman, who is always intruding her opinions, chose to imagine that
he was groaning and crying out on account of what I said. The liberties
she takes become more intolerable every day; she is enough to drive your
father distracted."
"What does she mean?" asked Count Tristan, piteously. "Where do they
want to take me? I'm not going."
"My son," replied the countess, "I have informed you; but that insolent
woman prevented your understanding; we are to return very soon to
Brittany, to the Château de Gramont; I expect you to rejoice at this
pleasing intelligence."
"No--no, I cannot go! I cannot leave"--
He stopped as though his mother's flashing eyes checked the words ready
to burst from his lips.
"You will not have to leave _Maurice_," she said, coldly; "he is to
accompany us."
"But Madeleine! Madeleine!" he sobbed forth as if unable to restrain
himself.
The countess was on the point of replying angrily, when Maurice
interposed.
"I beg you, madame, not to excite my father by further discussion. Come,
my dear father, you are tired; it is getting late; I know it will do you
good to lie down."
And he conducted the unresisting invalid to his own chamber, leaving the
countess swelling with rage, yet glorying in the certainty that she
would carry out her plans, in spite of every opposition.