Part 15 (1/2)

”I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired.”

In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason that influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of communing alone with her great happiness.

When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt that she was trembling. She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening kiss.

Looking anxiously in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the feverish expectation connected with the hoped-for meeting. It was all so evident to her that she promised herself to keep a close watch.

”Be good, dear, and sleep well.”

But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbe Cornille, Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she realised that her secret had almost escaped her. Had her mother held her against her heart one second longer, she would have told her everything.

When she had shut herself in her own room, and doubly locked her door, the light troubled her, and she blew out her candle. The moon, which rose later and later, had not yet appeared above the horizon, and the night was very dark. Without undressing, she seated herself before the open window, looked out into the deep shade, and waited patiently for the hours to pa.s.s. The minutes went by rapidly, as she was fully occupied with the one idea that as soon as the clock struck for midnight she would go down to find Felicien. As it would be the most natural thing in the world to do, she traced out her way, step by step, and every movement she would make with the most perfect composure.

It was not very late when she heard the Abbe Cornille take his leave.

Soon after, the Huberts, in their turn, came upstairs. Then it seemed to her as if someone came out of their chamber, and with furtive steps moved cautiously as far as the foot of the stairway, then stopped, as if listening for a moment before returning. Then the house soon sank, as if in the quiet of a deep sleep.

When the great church clock struck twelve, Angelique left her seat.

”Now I must go, for he is waiting for me.” She unlocked the door, and, pa.s.sing out, neglected closing it after her. Going down the first flight of stairs, she stopped as she approached the room of the Huberts, but heard nothing--nothing but the indefinable quivering of silence.

Moreover, she was neither in a hurry, nor had she any fear, for being totally unconscious of any wrong intentions, she felt at perfect ease.

It would have been quite impossible for her not to have gone down.

An inward power directed and led her, and it all seemed so simple and right; she would have smiled at the idea of a hidden danger. Once in the lower rooms, she pa.s.sed through the kitchen to go out into the garden, and again forgot to fasten the shutters. Then she walked rapidly towards the little gate of the Clos-Marie, which she also left wide open after her. Notwithstanding the obscurity and the dense shadows in the field, she did not hesitate an instant, but went direct to the little plank which served as a bridge to the Chevrotte, crossed it, guiding herself by feeling the way, as if in a familiar place, where every tree and bush were well known to her. Turning to the right, under a great willow-tree, she had only to put out her hands to have them earnestly grasped by Felicien, whom she knew would be there in waiting for her.

For a minute, without speaking, Angelique pressed Felicien's hands in hers. They could not see each other, for the sky was covered with a misty cloud of heat, and the pale moon which had just risen, had not yet lighted it up. At length she spoke in the darkness, her heart filled to overflowing with her great happiness:

”Oh, my dear seigneur, how I love you, and how grateful I am to you!”

She laughed aloud at the realisation of the fact that at last she knew him; she thanked him for being younger, more beautiful, and richer even than she had expected him to be. Her gaiety was charming; it was a cry of astonishment and of grat.i.tude before this present of love, this fulfillment of her dreams.

”You are the king. You are my master; and lo! here am I, your slave. I belong to you henceforth, and my only regret is that I am of so little worth. But I am proud of being yours; it is sufficient for you to love me, and that I may be in my turn a queen. It was indeed well that I knew you were to come, and so waited for you; my heart is overflowing with joy since finding that you are so great, so far above me. Ah! my dear seigneur, how I thank you, and how I love you.”

Gently he put his arm around her as he said:

”Come and see where I live.”

He made her cross the Clos-Marie, among the wild gra.s.s and herbs, and then she understood for the first time in what way he had come every night into the field from the park of the Bishop's Palace. It was through an old gate, that had been unused for a long time, and which this evening he had left half open. Taking Angelique's hand, he led her in that way into the great garden of the Monseigneur.

The rising moon was half-hidden in the sky, under a veil of warm mist, and its rays fell down upon them with a white, mysterious light. There were no stars visible, but the whole vault of heaven was filled with a dim l.u.s.tre, which quietly penetrated everything in this serene night.

Slowly they walked along on the borders of the Chevrotte, which crossed the park; but it was no longer the rapid rivulet rus.h.i.+ng over a pebbly descent--it was a quiet, languid brook, gliding along through clumps of trees. Under this ma.s.s of luminous vapour, between the bushes which seemed to bathe and float therein, it was like an Elysian stream which unfolded itself before them.

Angelique soon resumed her gay chattering.

”I am so proud and so happy to be here on your arm.”

Felicien, touched by such artless, frank simplicity, listened with delight as she talked unrestrainedly, concealing nothing, but telling all her inmost thoughts, as she opened her heart to him. Why should she even think of keeping anything back? She had never harmed anyone, so she had only good things to say.

”Ah, my dear child, it is I who ought to be exceedingly grateful to you, inasmuch as you are willing to love me a little in so sweet a way. Tell me once more how much you love me. Tell me exactly what you thought when you found out at last who I really was.”

But with a pretty, impatient movement she interrupted him.