The White House Part 75

Cornelie ran to the door, opened it, and rushed from the room, calling for help. When Robineau found that he was alone by the bed, he recovered his strength and ran after his wife, adding his cries to hers.

At the sound of their outcries, those inmates of the chateau who were not asleep ran to the spot with lights; they were curious to know what caused the bride and groom to shriek so loud. Most of them were half dressed. They found Robineau as pale as death, and Cornelie in an undress in which there was nothing to inspire alarm.

"What's the matter? what is it?" asked Alfred and Edouard; while Monsieur de la Pincerie, who was the last to appear, strode angrily to Robineau, saying:

"I would like to know why you cause my daughter to shriek like this on the first night after her wedding? I have been married myself; but my wife didn't utter the faintest shriek!"

"Why, it isn't I who made my wife shriek, father-in-law; on the contrary, I am shrieking with her!--But, bring weapons! arm yourselves, quick! there's someone in our bed! I thought of the ghost, but my wife says that it may be a robber."

"Let us see about it," said Alfred; "there are enough of us, we don't need weapons. There can't be a band of brigands in your alcove!"

And Alfred and Edouard went into the room, followed by the husband and wife, the marquis and the servants. When they reached the bed, the young men jerked the curtains aside and disclosed to view Jeannette snoring peacefully, with outstretched legs.

"It's Jeannette!" exclaimed Alfred and Edouard, laughing heartily.

"It's Jeannette!" echoed the others.

"What on earth is this girl doing in your bed, monsieur?" said Cornelie, gazing at Robineau in amazement.

"What, indeed!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie; "this maid-servant asleep in your bed--what does it mean, son-in-law? Corbleu! this has a very evil look----"

"Father-in-law, I swear that I have no idea what it means; I am innocence itself. Wake Jeannette; she must explain to us why she is here."

They shook the stout damsel, who yawned, stretched her arms, rubbed her eyes, and gazed about with a surprised expression, crying:

"Mon Dieu! have I been having a nap?"

"How do you happen to be in this bed?" demanded Cornelie, with a glance at Jeannette that was by no means amiable.

"How! Mon Dieu, madame, I ask your pardon; but it's natural that when I warm your bed----"

"Warm my bed?"

"Didn't you, monsieur, order me to warm your bed?"

"Yes, I admit it," said Robineau, "I thought that my wife would like it; but I didn't tell you to go to bed in order to do it."

"Oh! monsieur, I'll tell you how it is--there ain't any warming pan in the chateau, and n.o.body's thought to buy one; in fact, Monsieur Ferulus said there wasn't any use of it; he taught me to warm beds like the ancients; in fact, I've been warming his bed with my gravity, as he calls it, every day."

"How shocking!" cried Cornelie; "your great scholar is a scoundrel, monsieur; and I trust that he will leave my house to-morrow."

"I agree with you entirely, madame," said Robineau; "besides, he writes nothing but wretched stuff now."

"He is a villain!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie; "and if I were not almost in my s.h.i.+rt, I would go to him at once and pull his ears!"

"Meanwhile, I certainly shall not sleep in this bed," said Cornelie; "and as the one I have been sleeping in has been taken down, I shall pa.s.s the night with my sister."

"But, my dear wife, consider--" began Robineau.

"No, monsieur, my mind is made up; this will teach you not to entertain in your chateau people who behave in this way."

Cornelie took a candle, and, turning a deaf ear to her husband's remonstrances, went to her sister's room. The marquis approved his daughter's conduct. Jeannette, who had risen from her couch, went away with the other servants.

"_You would have it so!_" said Alfred to Robineau, who, being left alone in the bridal chamber, went to bed, saying to himself:

"After all, perhaps it's better that it should be so for to-night."

XXVI

A NOCTURNAL VISIT TO THE WHITE HOUSE

To recompense himself for a whole day pa.s.sed without seeing Isaure, Edouard rose with the dawn; and while everybody was asleep in the chateau, he was already on his way into the mountains. He had told his friend that he would not come to see her for a day, and the girl had answered affectionately: "I shall think all day long of nothing but the next day."

So he urged his horse, in order to be with her the sooner, for he had no doubt that she shared his impatience.

He reached the little valley at last; he fastened his horse and walked toward the cottage. He was surprised to find that Isaure was not at her window to watch for him; it was her habit to sit there every morning; and after a day of separation, should she not desire to see him even sooner?

He knocked at the cottage door; Vaillant barked and soon the door was opened. Isaure appeared before her lover, but she did not rush into his arms; pleasure and love no longer seemed to animate her, and instead of receiving him with the sweet smile to which he was accustomed, she lowered her eyes, as she said sadly:

"Is it you?"

"Yes, it is I," he replied, struck by the change in Isaure's manner.

"Didn't you expect me?"

"Oh, yes, I felt sure that you would come."

"What is the matter, Isaure? What has happened to you? What has taken place here in the short time since I left you? For heaven's sake, answer me."

Isaure seated herself in the living-room, and answered with a sigh:

"Nothing has taken place, nothing has happened to me."

"You are deceiving me, Isaure, you are not the same as usual. This depression, the tears which I still see in your eyes--Do you think that I can misunderstand them? Do you seek to deceive your lover? the man who adores you? Speak, I demand it! I implore you! What is this new mystery?

Does it mean that you no longer love me?"

"Oh! I shall always love you," said Isaure, looking up at Edouard, with eyes filled with tears; "yes, always; although I have been told that I was doing wrong, that I was making a great mistake, to love you and to listen to you."

"Who has told you that?" cried Edouard.

"Oh! do not be angry, I implore you. Alas! it would do no good. My friend, forgive me for having inspired love in your heart; it was not my fault; but since I cannot be your wife, since we must renounce all the happiness which we had promised ourselves, forget me. I shall always love you; that will be henceforth my only sentiment, my only thought, my only comfort!"

The tears which flowed from the girl's eyes seemed to bear witness to the sincerity of her grief. But Edouard, intensely excited, sprang to his feet and walked away from her, exclaiming:

"You say that you still love me, and yet you will not be mine! When, forgetting what so many people in society take for their rule of conduct, I determined to give you my name, to call you my wife, to live for you alone, someone forbids you to love me, to listen to me; and instantly you change your manner toward me, instantly you determine to cease to see me, and I must needs renounce my dearest hopes! No, you do not love me; if you shared my love, you would care more for me than for anybody else. But, mademoiselle, what power over you has this person to whom you sacrifice me? It is not your father; you have told me several times that you had no parents. By what right does this person, who keeps out of sight so mysteriously, pretend to separate you from me? Where is this person--whom I would see, know, and speak to?"