A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT.
The Chevalier de Pean had been but too successful in his errand of mischief to the Manor House of Tilly.
A few days had sufficed for this accomplished ambassador of Bigot to tempt Le Gardeur to his ruin, and to triumph in his fall.
Upon his arrival at the Seigniory, De Pean had chosen to take up his quarters at the village inn, in preference to accepting the proffered hospitality of the Lady de Tilly, whom, however, he had frequently to see, having been craftily commissioned by Bigot with the settlement of some important matters of business relating to her Seigniory, as a pretext to visit the Manor House and linger in the village long enough to renew his old familiarity with Le Gardeur.
The visits of De Pean to the Manor House were politely but not cordially received. It was only by reason of the business he came upon that he was received at all. Nevertheless he paid his court to the ladies of the Manor, as a gentleman anxious to remove their prejudices and win their good opinion.
He once, and but once, essayed to approach Amelie with gallantry, a hair-breadth only beyond the rigid boundary-line of ordinary politeness, when he received a repulse so quick, so unspoken and invisible, that he could not tell in what it consisted, yet he felt it like a sudden paralysis of his powers of pleasing. He cared not again to encounter the quick glance of contempt and aversion which for an instant flashed in the eyes of Amelie when she caught the drift of his untimely admiration.
A woman is never so Rhadamanthean in her justice, and so quick in her execution of it, as when she is proud and happy in her love for another man: she is then indignant at every suggestion implying any doubt of the strength, purity, and absoluteness of her devotion.
De Pean ground his teeth in silent wrath at this quiet but unequivocal repulse, and vowed a bitter vow that Amelie should ere long repent in sackcloth and ashes for the wound inflicted upon his vanity and still more upon his cupidity.
One of the day-dreams of his fancy was broken, never to return. The immense fortune and high rank of the young Chatelaine de Repentigny had excited the cupidity of De Pean for some time, and although the voluptuous beauty of Angelique fastened his eyes, he would willingly have sacrificed her for the reversion of the lordships of Tilly and Repentigny.
De Pean's soul was too small to bear with equanimity the annihilation of his cherished hopes. As he looked down upon his white hands, his delicate feet, and irreproachable dress and manner, he seemed not to comprehend that a true woman like Amelie cares nothing for these things in comparison with a manly nature that seeks a woman for her own sake by love, and in love, and not by the accessories of wealth and position. For such a one she would go barefoot if need were, while golden slippers would not tempt her to walk with the other.
Amelie's beau-ideal of manhood was embodied in Pierre Philibert, and the greatest king in Christendom would have wooed in vain at her feet, much less an empty pretender like the Chevalier de Pean.
"I would not have treated any gentleman so rudely," said Amelie in confidence to Heloise de Lotbiniere when they had retired to the privacy of their bedchamber. "No woman is justified in showing scorn of any man's love, if it be honest and true; but the Chevalier de Pean is false to the heart's core, and his presumption woke such an aversion in my heart, that I fear my eyes showed less than ordinary politeness to his unexpected advances."
"You were too gentle, not too harsh, Amelie," replied Heloise, with her arm round her friend. "Had I been the object of his hateful addresses, I should have repaid him in his own false coin: I would have led him on to the brink of the precipice of a confession and an offer, and then I would have dropped him as one drops a stone into the deep pool of the Chaudiere."
"You were always more bold than I, Heloise; I could not do that for the world," replied Amelie. "I would not willingly offend even the Chevalier de Pean. Moreover, I fear him, and I need not tell you why, darling. That man possesses a power over my dear brother that makes me tremble, and in my anxiety for Le Gardeur I may have lingered, as I did yesterday, too long in the parlor when in company with the Chevalier de Pean, who, mistaking my motive, may have supposed that I hated not his presence so much as I truly did!"
"Amelie, your fears are my own!" exclaimed Heloise, pressing Amelie to her side. "I must, I will tell you. O loved sister of mine,-- let me call you so!--to you alone I dare acknowledge my hopeless love for Le Gardeur, and my deep and abiding interest in his welfare."
"Nay, do not say hopeless, Heloise!" replied Amelie, kissing her fondly. "Le Gardeur is not insensible to your beauty and goodness.
He is too like myself not to love you."
"Alas, Amelie! I know it is all in vain. I have neither beauty nor other attractions in his eyes. He left me yesterday to converse with the Chevalier de Pean on the subject of Angelique des Meloises, and I saw, by the agitation of his manner, the flush upon his cheek, and the eagerness of his questioning, that he cared more for Angelique, notwithstanding her reported engagement with the Intendant, than he did for a thousand Heloises de Lotbiniere!"
The poor girl, overpowered by the recollection, hid her face upon the shoulder of Amelie, and sobbed as if her very heart were breaking,--as in truth it was.
Amelie, so happy and secure in her own affection, comforted Heloise with her tears and caresses, but it was only by picturing in her imagination her own state, should she be so hapless as to lose the love of Pierre Philibert, that she could realize the depth of misery and abandonment which filled the bosom of her fair companion.
She was, moreover, struck to the heart by the words of Heloise regarding the eagerness of her brother to get word of Angelique.