The Golden Dog [281]
"Here, Amelie," replied he, kissing her fondly; "now the congress is opened! I am your slave of the wonderful lamp, ready to set up and pull down the world at your bidding. The old mansion is your own. It shall have no rest until it becomes, within and without, a mirror of the perfect taste and fancy of its lawful mistress."
"Not yet, Pierre. I will not let you divert me from my purpose by your flatteries. The dear old home is perfect, but I must have the best suite of rooms in it for your noble father, and the next best for good Dame Rochelle. I will fit them up on a plan of my own, and none shall say me nay; that is all the change I shall make."
"Is that all? and you tried to frighten the slave of the lamp with the weight of your commands. A suite of rooms for my father, and one for good Dame Rochelle! Really, and what do you devote to me, Amelie?"
"Oh, all the rest, with its mistress included, for the reason that what is good enough for me is good enough for you, Pierre," said she gaily.
"You little economist! Why, one would say you had studied housekeeping under Madame Painchaud."
"And so I have. You do not know what a treasure I am, Pierre," said she, laughing merrily. "I graduated under mes tantes in the kitchen of the Ursulines, and received an accessit as bonne menagere which in secret I prize more than the crown of honor they gave me."
"My fortune is made, and I am a rich man for life," exclaimed Pierre, clapping his hands; "why, I shall have to marry you like the girls of Acadia, with a silver thimble on your finger and a pair of scissors at your girdle, emblems of industrious habits and proofs of a good housewife!"
"Yes, Pierre, and I will comb your hair to my own liking. Your valet is a rough groom," said she, taking off his hat and passing her finger through his thick, fair locks.
Pierre, although always dressed and trimmed like a gentleman, really cared little for the petit maitre fashions of the day. Never had he felt a thrill of such exquisite pleasure as when Amelie's hands arranged his rough hair to her fancy.
"My blessed Amelie!" said he with emotion, pressing her finger to his lips, "never since my mother combed my boyish locks has a woman's hand touched my hair until now."
Leaning her head fondly against the shoulder of Pierre, she bade him repeat to her again, to her who had not forgotten one word or syllable of the tale he had told her before, the story of his love.
She listened with moistened eyelids and heaving bosom as he told her again of his faithfulness in the past, his joys in the present, and his hopes in the future. She feared to look up lest she should break the charm, but when he had ended she turned to him passionately and kissed his lips and his hands, murmuring, "Thanks, my Pierre, I will be a true and loving wife to you!"
He strained her to his bosom, and held her fast, as if fearful to let her go.
"Her image at that last embrace, Ah! little thought he 'twas the last!"
Dim twilight crept into the valley. It was time to return home. Pierre and Amelie, full of joy in each other, grateful for the happiest day in their lives, hopeful of to-morrow and many to- morrows after it, and mercifully blinded to what was really before them, rose from their seat under the great spreading elm. They slowly retraced the path through the meadow leading to the bridge, and reentered the highway which ran to the city, where Pierre conducted Amelie home.
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE MARKET-PLACE ON ST. MARTIN'S DAY.
The market-place then as now occupied the open square lying between the great Cathedral of Ste. Marie and the College of the Jesuits. The latter, a vast edifice, occupied one side of the square. Through its wide portal a glimpse was had of the gardens and broad avenues of ancient trees, sacred to the meditation and quiet exercises of the reverend fathers, who walked about in pairs, according to the rule of their order, which rarely permitted them to go singly.
The market-place itself was lively this morning with the