The Bath Keepers Volume I Part 35

"It's strange, but you don't say that with all your heart, as I do! You have a curious manner. Have you been sick? You are quite pale.--Oh!

there is certainly something wrong!"

"Why, no--you are mistaken; I am not sick at all!"

"So much the better.--But how does it happen that you are in this room looking on the street--you, who never used to leave your own bedroom?"

"Why, I am here--I am here----"

"Yes, I see that you are here!"

"I am here because I asked father's permission to put my lovely rosebush on this balcony, which is a much better place for it; and then--I--I have to come here to tend it."

"Ah! so it's on account of your rosebush?"

"And then, it is much livelier here than in my room."

"That is true enough. But when your mother comes home, I am very sure that she will make you carry your rosebush back to your room, and will forbid your coming here any more."

"Do you think so? O mon Dieu!"

"Well! now you are as pale as a ghost! Come, Bathilde, kiss me and tell me all; you have something on your mind, and you do not want to confide it to me. Am I no longer your sister, your friend? Do you propose to have secrets from me? Oh, no! that is impossible! You are going to tell me why it is that you are so distressed, that your eyes are full of tears, that you are afraid to look me in the face. Do you mean to tell me that you will not open your heart to me any more? Come, speak out!"

Bathilde hesitated, but at last she faltered:

"Ah! but you will say more unkind things about him!"

Ambroisine shuddered; those few words told her the whole story. Her face a.s.sumed an expression of profound sadness.

"About him! him! Mon Dieu! have you seen Comte Leodgard again?"

"Did I say that?"

"Yes. The words you have just dropped tell me that it is so.--Come, Bathilde, tell me everything now. You cannot have anything to conceal from your sister, who loves you so dearly. I will not scold you, I have no right to; but my friends.h.i.+p may be useful to you.--Speak, I entreat you!"

Bathilde no longer felt strong enough to resist her friend's entreaties; she had not yet learned to dissemble. She seated herself beside Ambroisine and told her all that had happened since they had met; and finally, taking Leodgard's letter from her bosom with a trembling hand she gave it to her friend.

Ambroisine shuddered as she read the letter, then turned her eyes on Bathilde, who was gazing into her face and waiting to hear what she would say.

But Hugonnet's daughter was silent for several minutes; her eyes were swimming in tears. At last she took Bathilde's head in her hands, pressed it to her breast, and covered it with tears and kisses, murmuring:

"No! no! I do not propose that you shall be ruined! Poor child, I am determined to save you. It is my duty; for is it not my fault that this man, who is now trying to seduce you, ever saw you? Was it not I who insisted on taking you to see the Fire of Saint-Jean? Mon Dieu! was it possible for one to foresee, to divine, that the Evil One would be there in the person of this Comte Leodgard, seeking to ruin you? For he is the Evil One, I tell you; that man is the fallen angel!--But I trust that you do not believe him? Surely you place no faith in what he has written you? This letter--why, there is not a word of truth in it!"

"Not a word of truth!" cried Bathilde, in a heart-rending tone. "But in that case, why should he write me all this, if he did not think it? Why should he pa.s.s whole days walking in front of our house? Why should he come here again in the evening--always looking at this window? And I am not sure that he is not here at night too.--Ah! when I go out on the balcony to tend my rosebush, if you could see how he looks at me--how happy he seems all the time that I am there!"

"So you look at him too, do you? O Bathilde!"

"Oh, no! I don't look at him; indeed, I should not dare to. But, you know, one can see, out of the corner of one's eye, without seeming to look."

"My poor dear! can it be that you already love this Monsieur Leodgard?"

"Oh! I don't know--I don't dare to tell you. But since I read his letter, in which he swears that he will always love me--ah! I no longer know how I feel, what I am doing, what I am saying; my head is on fire, and my whole body is like my head. I believe that I have a fever; I think of nothing but him, I cannot drive away his image; I seem to feel pain and pleasure at the same time.--Mon Dieu! I no longer know myself!"

"Dear child! be calm. Listen to me; you have too much good sense not to understand me.--Now, Bathilde, let us admit that the count loves you at this moment; in the first place, his love will very soon pa.s.s away. But even if it should be more sincere than all the loves that he has promised, sworn, to other women, how would that help you? You know perfectly well that you can never become the wife of a count, of a great n.o.bleman."

"But you see that in his letter he says that he cares nothing for rank and fortune."

"In his letter he has put down everything that was likely to turn your head!--Ah! Bathilde, do the great n.o.bles ever marry us poor girls, the daughters of humble tradesmen? When we are pretty, they make love to us and try to seduce us, and they are not sparing of lies and promises to effect that purpose! But if we are unfortunate enough to listen to them, they very soon abandon us, leaving us nothing but shame and regret.--What I say is absolutely true, Bathilde. You know perfectly well that I desire nothing but your happiness. But if you listen to Comte Leodgard, you will be unhappy, you will be ruined!--Think of your father, who is so proud of you. Think of your mother, who has watched over you so carefully. They would curse you!"

"Oh! do not say any more! Yes, you are right; I was mad! But you bring me back to myself.--Tell me how I must act; I will do whatever you wish."

Ambroisine embraced her friend again, and said:

"Dear Bathilde, you suffer at this moment, because I am tearing away illusions that made you happy. But I do it so that you may enjoy truer happiness in the future. Listen: first of all, you must not appear on this balcony for a week, at least; nay, you must not even come into this room, for you would look into the street in spite of yourself.

Resume your usual mode of life, work as if your mother were by your side.--In the second place, you must--you must not read this letter any more; and, in order to be certain of not yielding to temptation, you must burn it."

"Burn his letter! the only token I shall have of his love--the only souvenir of him when he has ceased to think of me! Oh, no! let me keep it, Ambroisine, I implore you! I will do everything that you have said; but don't burn his letter!"

And Bathilde almost fell at her friend's knees. Ambroisine raised her and replied:

"How do you expect to be cured if you keep that paper with you, in which he says such sweet things--things that turn the heads of us poor women?

You will read it every day, and it will simply keep your grief alive."

"Very well! take it, Ambroisine, carry it away, but keep it for me; and later--in a very long time--when I am cured, if I ever can be cured, then you will give the letter back to me, and I shall be very glad to read it again."

"Very well; then I will take the letter away."

"But you won't burn it, will you?"

"No, I promise."

"And you will take good care of it? you will not lose it?"

"I will put it away in my little jewel box. How do you suppose that I can lose it?"

"But you--you won't read it, either, will you? For, if I deprive myself of that happiness, it would not be fair for another to enjoy it in my place!"

"Dear Bathilde! this letter, which is so priceless in your eyes, is of no value at all to another woman.--Never fear, I will not touch it.--Now I must leave you, I must go home.--You will surely do as I have told you. And first of all, my dear, to begin with, you will leave this room?"

"Yes."

"And you will not come here again--for ten days?"

"You said a week!"

"Well, so long as Comte Leodgard continues to walk this street."

"I will not come here."