第51章 AT ROSNY.(2)

Knowing that I must appear in her eyes old,poor,and ill-dressed,and satisfied,with having asserted my conduct and honour,I was careful not to trespass on her gratitude;and while forward in such courtesies as could not weary her,I avoided with equal care every appearance of pursuing her,or inflicting my company upon her.I addressed her formally and upon formal topics only,such,I mean,as we shared with the rest of our company;and I reminded myself often that though we now met in the same house and at the same table,she was still the Mademoiselle de la Vire who had borne herself so loftily in the King of Navarre's ante-chamber.This I did,not out of pique or wounded pride,which I no more,God knows,harboured against her than against a bird;but that I might not in my new prosperity forget the light in which such a woman,young,spoiled,and beautiful,must still regard me.

Keeping to this inoffensive posture,I was the more hurt when Ifound her gratitude fade with the hour.After the first two days,during which I remarked that she was very silent,seldom speaking to me or looking at me,she resumed much of her old air of disdain.For that I cared little;but she presently went farther,and began to rake up the incidents which had happened at St.Jean d'Angely,and in which I had taken part.She continually adverted to my poverty while there,to the odd figure I had cut,and the many jests her friends had made at my expense.

She seemed to take a pleasure positively savage in these,gibing at me sometimes so bitterly as to shame and pain me,and bring the colour to Madame de Rosny's cheeks.

To the time we had spent together,on the other hand,she never or rarely referred.One afternoon,however,a week after my arrival at Rosny,I found her sitting alone in the parlour.Ihad not known she was there,and I was for withdrawing at once with a bow and a muttered apology.But she stopped me with an angry gesture.'I do not bite,'she said,rising from her stool and meeting my eyes,a red spot in each cheek.'Why do you look at me like that?Do you know,M.de Marsac,that I have no patience with you.'And she stamped her foot on the floor.

'But,mademoiselle,'I stammered humbly,wondering what in the world she meant,'what have I done?'

'Done?'she repeated angrily.'Done?It is not what you have done,it is what you are.I have no patience with you.Why are you so dull,sir?Why are you so dowdy?Why do you go about with your doublet awry,and your hair lank?Why do you speak to Maignan as if he were a gentleman?Why do you look always solemn and polite,and as if all the world were a preche?Why?Why?

Why,I say?'

She stopped from sheer lack of breath,leaving me as much astonished as ever in my life.She looked so beautiful in her fury and fierceness too,that I could only stare at her and wonder dumbly what it all meant.

'Well!'she cried impatiently,after bearing this as long as she could,'have you not a word to say for yourself?Have you no tongue?Have you no will of your own at all,M.de Marsac?'

'But,mademoiselle,'I began,trying to explain.

'Chut!'she exclaimed,cutting me short before I could get farther,as the way of women is.And then she added,in a changed tone,and very abruptly,'You have a velvet knot of mine,sir.Give it me.'

'It is in my room,'I answered,astonished beyond measure at this sudden change of subject,and equally sudden demand.

'Then fetch it,sir,if you please,'she replied,her eyes flashing afresh.'Fetch it.Fetch it,I say!It has served its turn,and I prefer to have it.Who knows but that some day you may be showing it for a love-knot?'

'Mademoiselle!'I cried,hotly.And I think that for the moment I was as angry as she was.

'Still,I prefer to have it,'she answered sullenly,casting down her eyes.

I was so much enraged,I went without a word and fetched it,and,bringing it to her where she stood,in the same place,put it into her hands.When she saw it some recollection,I fancy,of the day when she had traced the cry for help on it,came to her in her anger;for she took it from me with all her bearing altered.She trembled,and held it for a moment in her hands,as if she did not know what to do with it.She was thinking,doubtless,of the house in Blois and the peril she had run there;and,being for my part quite willing that she should think and feel how badly she had acted,I stood looking at her,sparing her no whit of my glance.

'The gold chain you left on my mother's pillow,'I said coldly,seeing she continued silent,'I cannot return to you at once,for I have pledged it.But I will do so as soon as I can.'

'You have pledged it?'she muttered,with her eyes averted.

'Yes,mademoiselle,to procure a horse to bring me here,'Ireplied drily.'However,it,shall be redeemed.In return,there is something I too would ask.'

'What?'she murmured,recovering herself with all effort,and looking at me with something of her old pride and defiance.

'The broken coin you have,'I said.'The token,I mean.It is of no use to you,for your enemies hold the other half.It might be of service to me.'

'How?'she asked curtly.

'Because some day I may find its fellow,mademoiselle,'

'And then?"she cried.She looked at me,her lips parted,her eyes flashing.'What then,when you have found its fellow,M.de Marsac?'

I shrugged my shoulders.

'Bah!'she exclaimed,clenching her little hand,and stamping her foot on the floor in a passion I could not understand.'That is you!That is M.de Marsac all over.You say nothing,and men think nothing of you.You go with your hat in your hand,and they tread on you.They speak,and you are silent!Why,if Icould use a sword as you can,I would keep silence before no man,nor let any man save the King of France cock his hat in my presence!But you!There!go,leave me.Here is your coin.

Take it and go.Send me that lad of yours to keep me awake.At any rate he has brains,he is young,he is a man,he has a soul,he can feel--if he were anything but a clerk.'