"Oh! my dear love, does my hair look nice? I didn't have time to braid it this morning."

"You look very sweet. But do sit still, don't jump about on your chair like that; this young man will think that you have nervous spasms."

"O Honorine! how unkind you are!"

Edmond's appearance put an end to this conversation. He entered the room very modestly, apologizing for his presumption. One is generally well received when one displays some fear of coming inopportunely. The young man's courteous, gentlemanly demeanor and his reserved manners prepossessed Honorine in his favor. As for Agathe, the flush that overspread her cheeks, her confusion, her eyes, which she was afraid to turn upon the new arrival, demonstrated clearly enough that his presence caused her the most intense emotion; and her voice was almost inaudible when she replied to Edmond's greeting and inquiry for her health.

But when the first awkward moment had pa.s.sed, the young man, rea.s.sured by the cordial welcome he had received, became amiable and sprightly, recovered his spirits, and his conversation soon afforded much amus.e.m.e.nt to the ladies, to whom he gave all the news of Paris. Then he spoke enthusiastically of the house, the situation, the outlook.

"We also have a very pretty garden," murmured Agathe.

"If I were not afraid of being presumptuous, I would ask to see it."

"With pleasure, monsieur; landed proprietors, you know, are always flattered to exhibit their property; and it should be more excusable in us than in others, we have been landed proprietors such a short time!"

They walked in the garden, which the young man found charming, as he did the whole house. Agathe began to be less embarra.s.sed, she recovered her gayety, laughed at the slightest provocation, and, when she did so, disclosed such fresh red lips and such pretty teeth that it would have been a pity for her not to laugh, in very truth.

"It is very good of you, monsieur," said Honorine, "to remember your promise and to think of coming to see us. But perhaps you know someone at Ch.e.l.les?"

"No, madame, absolutely no one. The desire to present my respects to you was quite sufficient to bring me here; furthermore, I was anxious to know if you were satisfied with your purchase."

"Yes, monsieur, very well satisfied. Agathe and I like this neighborhood very much."

"Have you plenty of society?"

"We might have, if we wanted it; but we do not seek it; society is often a nuisance in the country. We have a call now and then from the local doctor, an old man and rather pleasant. I think that we shall go no farther; what we have seen has given us no desire to join in the festivities of our neighbors, has it, Agathe?"

"Oh! no, indeed! tiresome eccentricities--perfectly intolerable with their chatter, in which there is never an interesting word. It's so amusing to listen to that! What a difference when one is with people who--whom we like! then the time pa.s.ses so quickly!"

"Yes, indeed; too quickly, in fact; for I fear that I presume too far, that I incommode you by prolonging my call."

"Oh! no, monsieur, our time is entirely at our disposal; and if there is no necessity for your hurrying back to Paris----"

"Not in the least, madame; I too am master of my time--too much so, indeed."

"Have you no business?"

"Pardon me, I trade on the Bourse. I am thinking seriously about earning money."

During this dialogue between Edmond and Honorine, Agathe frequently glanced at her friend, and her eyes seemed to say:

"Well! do you propose to let this young man go away like this? Aren't you going to invite him to dine with us? He was so courteous to us in Paris; he certainly deserves to have us pay him that compliment."

Honorine understood Agathe's pantomime perfectly, but she was amused by her impatience. However, when Edmond again spoke of going, she said:

"If you are in no hurry to return to Paris, monsieur, stay and dine with us; you will have a very simple dinner, but we shall enjoy your company longer."

"Really, madame," stammered Edmond, bowing in acknowledgment of the invitation, "your invitation causes me so much pleasure--it is very bold of me to accept--and yet I haven't courage enough to refuse."

"Oh! then you will stay!" cried Agathe, jumping for joy; then, ashamed of having allowed the pleasure she felt to appear, she ran away, saying:

"I am going to see if the hens have laid any eggs."

Edmond was on the point of calling after her: "Oh! mademoiselle, don't make them lay for me!" for no one is so likely as a bright man to say foolish things, when he is in love. However, he caught himself in time, and Honorine said to him:

"You will permit us to forego ceremony, won't you?"

"It is a sign of friendship, madame."

"Very well; I will leave you and finish my toilet. Meanwhile, will you walk, or will you go back to the salon? You are musical, I believe; you can play on the piano; in short, make yourself quite at home."

"Thanks, madame, thanks a thousand times."

Honorine retired to the house; Edmond, left alone in the garden, strolled about there for some time, then entered the summer-house and sat down.

"She comes here to work," he thought; "it is here she sits--she said so just now. Sweet girl! she blushes when I glance at her; and then she lowers her eyes; she seems moved, perturbed. Oh! if she might love me!"

And the young lover, absorbed by his thoughts, leaned against the window and looked out into the country. But he looked without seeing, his mind was busy with Agathe alone.

Suddenly he remembered Freluchon, whom he had almost forced to take the trip with him; who must be waiting for him now, to eat _matelote_, and who would be furious if he did not join him.

"Faith! I can't help it," thought Edmond; "he can be angry, if he chooses, but I can't decline the invitation of these ladies, and deprive myself of the happiness of pa.s.sing the day with the girl I adore. No, indeed! and Freluchon, in my place, would do the same. Besides, between friends there ought to be no formality."

Agathe did not appear. Hoping to find her in the salon, Edmond went there; but the ladies had not finished dressing. The young man took his seat at the piano, turned over the leaves of several songs, then yielded to the temptation to sing. Edmond sang very well; his voice was sweet and well modulated, and he had in addition taste and expression, which const.i.tute the greatest charm of every person who sings; moreover, he accentuated the words perfectly; when he sang you did not lose a syllable; and it is so uninteresting to listen and not understand!

The lovely song called the _Val d'Andore_ was on the piano. Whether it was that the thought that he was at Agathe's piano, or his pleasure in knowing that he was near her, had augmented his powers, certain it is that the young man had never sung so well, that his voice had never been so sweet and pure. And the two friends, who, after completing their toilet, had returned to the salon, stood at the door to listen, and did not move a muscle for fear of losing a word.

But Agathe flushed and turned pale alternately as she listened to that melodious voice, which went to her very heart.

"Oh! how beautifully he sings!" she whispered; "oh! my dear! what a voice!"

"Hush!"

Agathe was silent; but a moment later two great tears rolled down her cheeks. Honorine saw them and touched the girl's arm.

"Upon my word!" she whispered, "you are crying now. What does this mean?"

"I don't know, my dear friend! I don't know what the matter is; but I am very happy!"

"Will you be kind enough to wipe your eyes and not show how susceptible you are to music. Really, I am almost sorry that we invited this young man to dinner."

"Oh! it's all over, my dear; it's all over; it won't happen again."

Edmond having ceased to sing, the two young women entered the salon.

"You sing very well, monsieur," said Honorine; while Agathe, still all a-quiver from the effect that Edmond's voice had produced upon her, stood apart and dared not trust herself to speak.

"What, mesdames, were you listening to me? If I had known that, I should not have dared to sing."