"No, no! do not think of it," cried Isaure. "Oh! I beg you, if you still love me, do not try to make that person's acquaintance--he does not wish, has never wished to be known, to be seen."

"_He_ does not wish," said Edouard angrily. "Very good! it is a man; you have betrayed yourself!"

"Betrayed myself!" replied Isaure, raising her lovely eyes, streaming with tears, to heaven; "what harm is there in its being a man?"

"Who is this man? What power has he over you?"

"Who he is, I do not myself know; but he has the strongest, the most sacred rights over me--those of grat.i.tude. It is to him that I owe everything."

"That you owe everything! what? were you not adopted and brought up by the honest peasants who lived in this house? Was it not to them alone that you owe grat.i.tude?"

"Oh, no! it was not to them alone. Those good people who lived here loved me dearly, I know; but when they took me into their family, and treated me as their own daughter, they simply obeyed the orders of the man whom I must obey to-day! I am doing wrong even now in telling you all this; he forbade me to do it."

"When a man has only honorable intentions, he does not conceal himself thus, he does not envelop himself with so much mystery; and if this person desires only your happiness, why does he forbid you to love me, to become my wife?"

"Your wife! No, he told me that I could never be any man's wife, that I must not see you any more, must not receive you here; he said also that that would make people think ill of me. Alas! I did not know that it was wrong to love to be with you."

"And you will obey this order, which parts us?"

"I must; do not be angry with me, Edouard. The man who separates us is terribly distressed to make me unhappy, for he is very kind, and he loves me dearly."

"This is too much!" said Edouard, striding angrily from the cottage; "you pity, you love another; and as the reward of my love, to pay me for not acting as so many men would have done in my place, you request me never to come again; ah! I must be a great fool to continue to love you.

Adieu! you shall be gratified, you shall see me no more!"

"Edouard! Edouard! do you leave me like this?" cried Isaure, who had followed the young man out of the cottage. But Edouard was no longer listening to her. Beside himself with rage and jealousy, he had remounted his horse, and was galloping back to the chateau.

The whole party was at that moment a.s.sembled in the salon, except Monsieur Ferulus, who had received orders to leave the chateau, with only twenty-four hours in which to make his preparations, and who was then in the library, where he was packing up the volumes which he had brought to the chateau, and consigning to the devil Monsieur de la Roche-Noire's new wife.

Alfred was with the family in the salon, with his eyes fixed smilingly on Robineau, who seemed more timid than ever with his wife, and more humble with his father-in-law.

Edouard was too excited to go to the salon; he went to his own room and sent word secretly to Alfred to join him there.

Alfred immediately complied with his friend's wish. Edouard's pallor and agitation attracted his attention the moment he caught sight of him; he ran to his side, seized his hand, and pressing it affectionately, said to him:

"What has happened? tell me!"

Edouard could not reply at once, his grief choked his utterance; he tried to speak, but his heart was too full; at last he threw himself into his friend's arms, stammering:

"My dear Alfred, you sacrificed your love for Isaure to me; you desired that I should be happy; you saw my extreme pa.s.sion for that girl. Well!

to reward my love, she refuses to see me again. I must abandon all hope of marrying her. When I forget that she is only a peasant, nameless, penniless, it is she who refuses to be mine!"

"Who told you that?"

"She herself; I left her only a moment ago."

"What reasons does she give you?"

"The obedience which she owes to a man who forbids her to see me again."

"Then I was not misinformed," cried Alfred, after a moment.

"What? what do you mean?"

"Listen! two nights ago, when I went to examine the old tower, I did find someone there--that vagabond whom we have met so often in the mountains; he declared that he had made his way into the chateau at night for the purpose of speaking to me secretly, and he told me that Isaure was unworthy of your love, that he had been suspicious of her conduct for a long time, and that he had at last acquired the certainty that she went to the White House at night, to see a man who had just arrived there."

"The traitor! She goes to see him at night; and to think that I respected her sincerity, her innocence, and was afraid of offending her delicacy! Ah! my friend, these women! Oh! I am suffocating, I cannot stand it; I have a weight at my heart which oppresses me, which is killing me!"

"Come, come, Edouard, be a man; be yourself; does a woman who betrays us deserve that we should regret her?"

"Ah! my friend, I have not your temperament; but why have you concealed from me what you had learned?"

"I wished to be certain, before causing you pain; I had my reasons for doubting the veracity of the wretch's story, he seemed to take so much delight in slandering that girl; and I fear even now----"

"What! when she herself told me that she would not see me any more, because some insolent villain has forbidden her to? And you think that I will suffer such an outrage? No, I will make this man's acquaintance. I will see my rival, and he shall have my life, or I will have his."

"Calm yourself, Edouard, reflect before----"

"Reflection is useless; I am determined to fight with the man who has stolen Isaure's heart from me."

"Who has stolen it from you! That is not quite fair; consider that it is you rather, who have stolen it from him. This man knew Isaure before you did; if anyone has a right to complain, is it not he?"

"Yes, that man knew Isaure; but before he returned to this place, she loved me--at least she swore that she did; every day she seemed to see me with greater pleasure, to part from me with greater regret. It is only since the return of this unknown protector that she spurns me, that she wishes to see me no more. So you see that it is he who has stolen the woman I love from me, it is he who wrecks my life."

"I see that it is utterly impossible to make a man who is in love listen to reason!"

"My friend, my mind is made up; to-night I shall seek out my rival, and he must give Isaure up to me, or take my life."

"Give Isaure up to you! What! are you still willing to give her your name?"

"I do not know what I am willing to do; my blood is boiling, my head is on fire. Ah! Alfred, may you never know the torments of jealousy! Argue with me no more; I will listen to nothing until I have satisfied my rage. To-night we will go together to the White House. That is where I shall find this man, who surrounds himself with so much mystery. I have relied upon you to go with me, to be my second. However, if you disapprove of my resolution, I will go alone."

"What! I desert you at such a moment! No, my dear Edouard, I will go with you. I shall take my pistols; do you take your weapons too. We will leave the chateau on foot, at eight o'clock; we shall be there at ten, which is early enough. Now let me return to the salon."

"Make my apologies for not appearing; say that I am indisposed; it would be impossible for me to be with people now in whose presence I must constrain myself."

Alfred pressed his friend's hand and did not insist upon remaining with him; for he knew that in great grief there are times when even words of comfort are unwelcome. He returned to the company and announced that Edouard was not feeling well. The absence of one of the young men, and the depression and absent-mindedness of Alfred did not tend to enliven the dinner on the day following the wedding, during which Robineau, having had the misfortune to say, rubbing his hands: "I flatter myself that I shall not sleep alone to-night!" received a sharp reprimand from Monsieur de la Pincerie concerning the freedom of his manners; and Madame de la Roche-Noire manifested a sulky manner during the rest of the meal.

In the evening, the whist table was prepared; as they no longer had Monsieur Ferulus to make a fourth, because he would have been very sorry to do anything agreeable to the marquis during his last evening at the chateau, they suggested to Alfred that he should take his place; but he announced that he felt tired and would withdraw early. Thereupon Monsieur de la Pincerie took his two daughters into the game, and they played a family bouillotte, at which Mignon considered himself very skilful, because he said "I pa.s.s" before looking at his cards. At eight o'clock, leaving Robineau in an altercation with his father-in-law and his wife over a bad play that he had made, Alfred left the salon, went to his room, took his weapons and his cloak, because it was a damp and cold evening, and then joined Edouard, who was impatiently pacing his room, awaiting his friend.

"Here I am," said Alfred.

"Let us go then," replied Edouard shortly, "it is quite time."

"Why are we going on foot?"

"It seems to me that we are less likely to be seen, that they will not hear us coming. Who knows that the man whom I wish to discover may not have spies posted on the road, to give him warning of a surprise?"

"All right, let us go on foot; perhaps the walk and the cool night air will calm you a little."