She and I Volume II Part 10

Really, I could not answer the question at all satisfactorily.

You see, I was not able to come to a decision with myself as to whether I should repeat the darling request which I had made to Min very nearly twelve months before, or wait on still in suspense. The risk of the former course was great, for, Mrs Clyde might, and most likely would, put an end immediately to all communication whatever between us, should she continue hostile to my suit--an eventuality horrible to contemplate; and yet, would it not be better for me to be relieved from the existing state of uncertainty in which my mind was plunged?

What must I do?

I had to determine that point, at all events.

I could not settle it in a moment: it was far too weighty a consideration--it required serious deliberation. So, I paced on, still moodily to the end of the Prebend's Walk; and, although it was raining heavily, sat down on the stone bal.u.s.trade of the little rustic bridge over the fosse, facing the river.--"Ah me!" I reflected, calling to my memory Thackeray's sad lament, in that seemingly-comic "Ballad of the Bouillabaisse," which is all the more pathetic from its affected humour.

"Ah me! how quick the days are flitting!

I mind me of a time that's gone When I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place--but not alone.

"A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me-- There's no one now to share my cup."

As I was musing thus sadly, I was unexpectedly tapped on the shoulder by Monsieur Parole d'Honneur, who had come up quietly behind me, without my noticing his approach. He was on his way to pay a visit to his "good vicaire" at the vicarage, after giving his usual Wednesday lecture at the neighbouring "college for young ladies;" where, blooming misses--in addition to their curriculum of "accomplishments" and "all the 'ologies"--were taught the n.o.ble art of family multiplication, domestic division, male detraction, feminine sedition, and, the glorious rule of--_one_!

Me grieving, he joyously addressed.

"Ohe! my youngish friends"--his general term in speaking to me--"how goes it?--Hi--lo!" he went on, seeing from my face, as I turned my head to speak to him, that, "it" did not "go" particularly well--"Hi--lo! vat ees ze mattaire?--you look pallide; you have got ze migraine?"

"No," I answered; "there's nothing the matter with me, I a.s.sure you, Monsieur Parole. I'm all right, thank you."

"Ah! but yes," he retorted--"you cannote deceives me. You are pallide; you take walks on feet this detestable day.--Mon Dieu! votre climat c'est affreux!--I knows ver wells, Meestaire Lorton, dat somesings ees ze mattaire!"

"But, I'm quite well, I tell you," said I.

"Quaite well en physique, bon:--quaite well, here?" tapping his chest expressively the while--"non! I knows vat ees ze mattaire. C'est une affaire de coeur, ees it not, mon ami? You cannote deceives me, I tells to you! But, nevaire mind dat, my youngish friends: cheer oop and be gays--toujours gai! I have had, myselfs, it ees one, two, tree,--seex lofes! Seex times ees mon coeur brise, and I was desole; and now, you sees, I'm of a light heart still!"--and he laughed so cheerily, that, even Lady Dasher, I think, could not have well helped chiming in with his merriment.

I did not laugh, however. "Pardon me, monsieur," I said,--"I'm not in a joking mood."

"Come, come, mon brave," he continued, seeing that my dejection was beyond the point where it could be laughed away; and accommodating himself to my humour, with the native delicacy of his race--"I have myself, suffered:--ainsi, I can condoles! You know, my dear, youngish friends, when I was deporte de mon pays, he?"

I nodded my head in acquiescence, hardly feeling inclined for the recital of some revolutionary anecdote, which I thought was going to be related to me. Monsieur Parole, however, astonished me with quite a different narration.

"Leesten," said he.--"When I did leeves my Paris beloved, helas! I was tored from my lofe--my fiancee dat I adore! I leaves her in hopes and au desespoir. I dreams of her images in my exiles! When I learns at my acadamies ze young ladees, ze beautifool Eenglish mees, I tinks of ma belle Marie, her figure, and her face angelique, wheech I sail nevaire forgets--no, nevaire! And I says to myselfs, 'Ah! she ees more beautifools dan dese!' Mais, mon ami, I was deceives by her all dat time. Not sooner go I from France, dan she ees marie to un grand, gros, fat epicier of La Villette--Marie dat was fiancee au moi, gentilhomme!

Mais, mon Dieu; when I was heard ze news, I was enrage--I goes back to Paris. I fears notings--no mouchard--no gend'armerie--no notings-- although, I was suspect and deporte de France! I sends un cartel--you comprends--to ze gros bon ami de ma Marie, ce cochon d'un epicier! We meets in ze Bois: I gives him one leetel tierce en carte dat spoils his lovemakings for awhile; and, I leeves France again for evers--dat is, unless ma patrie and ze sacred cause of ze Republique Francaise calls upon me--but, not till den! So, you sees, my youngish friends, dat oders suffer like yourselfs. I have told to you my story; cheer oop!

If ze ladees have deceives you, she is not wort one snaps of ze fingers!"

"But, she has not deceived me," I said.

"Den why are you melancolique?"

"Because, because--" I hesitated:--I was ashamed to say what made me despondent.

"For ze reasons dat you don't knows weder she lofes you or not?" he asked. "Ah, ha! Den, why not ask her, my friends? You are young; you have a deesposeetion good; you are handsome--"

"O-oh, Monsieur Parole," I exclaimed at his nattering category of my attributes, almost blus.h.i.+ng.

"Ah, but yes," he went on--"I am quaite raite. You are handsome; with un air distingue; reech."

I shook my head, to show that I could not lay claim to being a millionaire, in addition to my other virtues.

"No, not reech, but clevaire; and you will be reech bye-bye! I see not why ze ladees should not leesten to you, mon ami, he?--But, if she does note; why, courage! Dere are many odere ladees beautifool also in England; and, yet, if you feels your loss mooch, like myselfs with ma perfide Marie, why you can go aways and be console, as I!"

His words encouraged me:--and, my face imperceptibly brightened.

"Ah, ha! dat is bettaire," he said--"I likes you, Meestaire Lorton; and it does me pain to sees you at deespair like dese! Cheer oop; and all will be raite, as our good friend, ze vicaire, all-ways tells to us. We will go and sees him now!"

He took my unresisting arm, and carried me off to the vicarage; changing the conversation as we went along, and gradually instilling fresh hope into my heart.

I dare say you think it was very idiotical on my part, thus to bewail my grief to another person; and allow a few empty words to change the current of my feelings?

But then, you must recollect, that I would not have comported myself in this way with a brother Englishman.

If Horner had told me of _his_ woes, for example, similarly as I told mine, or let them be drawn out of me by Monsieur Parole, I confess I would have been much more likely to have laughed at, than sympathised with him.

A Frenchman, however, is naturally more sentimental than any of ourselves. He looks seriously and considerately on things which we make light of.

Besides, in my then cut-throat mood, I was longing for sympathy; and would have made a confidante of any one offering for the post--barring Lady Dasher or Miss Spight--neither of whom would I have chosen as a depository were I anxious to give my last dying speech and confession to the world; although, they would probably cause the same to be circulated fast enough--judging by their habit in regard to that sort of private information respecting the delicate concerns of other people which is pa.s.sed on from hand to hand "in strict confidence, mind!" and which is not to be told to any one else "for the world!"

Monsieur Parole's story was a good lesson to me.

I saw that he who had had grief as great, and greater than mine, for I knew that Min loved me and was constant--had concealed it so that none who looked on his round merry face, would have supposed him capable of a deep emotion; while, I, on the contrary, had paraded my little anxieties, like a fool!

He also taught me determination; for, I resolved now, that, on the first opportunity I had, I would speak to my darling again, and have my fate settled, without more delay--for good or ill, as the case might be.

I would not remain in suspense any longer.

Within a week, this wished-for opportunity came.

Some mutual friends, to whom, indeed, Min had been the original means of my introduction--they living without the orbit of the Saint Canon circle--asked me to a large evening party that they gave late in the season.

There, I met my darling, as I hoped--unaccompanied by her mother, which I had _not_ imagined would happen; consequently, my chances for speaking to Min would be all the more favourable.

There was so general a crush of people; that, although the rooms were large and there were many nice little retreats for tete-a-tete conversation, in balconies that were covered in like marquees and snug conservatories, besides the stair landings--those last "refuges for the dest.i.tute" who might desire retirement--I had to put off my purpose until evening wore on to such a late hour, that I thought I would not be able to speak to my darling at all!

After midnight, however, my opportunity came.

First getting rid of a horrible person, who would persist in following Min about under the false pretence that his name was on her card for several of the after-supper dances--an a.s.sertion _I_ knew to be ridiculously unfounded; for, I had taken care to place my own name down for as many as Min would give me, and, all the latter ones I had appropriated also without asking her permission, thinking that when that happy time arrived, she would not be very hard on me for my presumption; nor was she.

Extinguis.h.i.+ng the interloper--some people have such blindness of mental vision, that they never can see when they are not wanted!--I managed at length to open proceedings.

It was while in a quadrille that I began referring to the agonised state of my mind, and explained the mental suffering I then was experiencing.

Min listened attentively, as far as she heard, a warm flush on her dear face and a light sparkling in the deep grey eyes; but, I would defy any lover to plead his cause with due effect in that mazy old cotillon dance, which a love of French nomenclature in the early part of the century, taught us to style "quadrille."

How can you inform the object of your pa.s.sion that you adore her, with any becoming effusion of sentiment, when you are cha.s.sez-ing and balancez-ing like a human teetotum? How, breathe the words of love; when, ere you have completed your avowal, you have to make a fool of yourself in the "Cavalier seul," the cynosure of six different pairs of eyes besides those of the girl of your heart? How, tone your voice, sweetly attuned though it may be to Venusian accents, when, one moment, it may be inaudible to her whom you address, through the rampagious gallopading and ladies-chaining of excited quadrillers; and, the next, be so raised in pitch, from the sudden hush that falls on band and dancers alike, between the figures, that your opposite vis-a-vis, and the neighbouring side couples, can hear every syllable of your frantic declaration--much to their amus.e.m.e.nt and your discomfiture?

You cannot do it, I say.