White Lies [81]
whose beck and call you are to be, and at whose orders you are to break off an interview with me. Perdition!"
"Dear Edouard, what folly! Can you suspect me of discourtesy, as well as of--I know not what. Colonel Dujardin will join us, that is all, and we shall take a little walk with him."
"Not I. I decline the intrusion; you are engaged with me, and I have things to say to you that are not fit for that puppy to hear. So choose between me and him, and choose forever."
Rose colored. "I should be very sorry to choose either of you forever; but for this afternoon I choose you."
"Oh, thank you--my whole life shall prove my gratitude for this preference."
Rose beckoned Jacintha, and sent her with an excuse to Colonel Dujardin. She then turned with an air of mock submission to Edouard. "I am at monsieur's ORDERS."
Then this unhappy novice, being naturally good-natured, thanked her again and again for her condescension in setting his heart at rest. He proposed a walk, since his interference had lost her one. She yielded a cold assent. This vexed him, but he took it for granted it would wear off before the end of the walk. Edouard's heart bounded, but he loved her too sincerely to be happy unless he could see her happy too; the malicious thing saw this, or perhaps knew it by instinct, and by means of this good feeling of his she revenged herself for his tyranny. She tortured him as only a woman can torture, and as even she can torture only a worthy man, and one who loves her. In the course of that short walk this inexperienced girl, strong in the instincts and inborn arts of her sex, drove pins and needles, needles and pins, of all sorts and sizes, through her lover's heart.
She was everything by turns, except kind, and nothing for long together. She was peevish, she was ostentatiously patient and submissive, she was inattentive to her companion and seemingly wrapped up in contemplation of absent things and persons, the colonel to wit; she was dogged, repulsive, and cold; and she never was herself a single moment. They returned to the gate of the Pleasaunce. "Well, mademoiselle," said Riviere very sadly, "that interloper might as well have been with us."
"Of course he might, and you would have lost nothing by permitting me to be courteous to a guest and an invalid. If you had not played the tyrant, and taken the matter into your own hands, I should have found means to soothe your jeal--I mean your vanity; but you preferred to have your own way. Well, you have had it."
"Yes, mademoiselle, you have given me a lesson; you have shown me how idle it is to attempt to force a young lady's inclinations in anything."
He bade her good-day, and went away sorrowful.
She cut Camille dead for the rest of the day.
Next morning, early, Edouard called expressly to see her. "Mademoiselle Rose," said he, humbly, "I called to apologize for the ungentlemanly tone of my remonstrances yesterday."
"Fiddle-dee," said Rose. "Don't do it again; that is the best apology."
"I am not likely to offend so again," said he sadly. "I am going away. I am sorry to say I am promoted; my new post is ten leagues. HE WILL HAVE IT ALL HIS OWN WAY NOW. But perhaps it is best. Were I to stay here, I foresee you would soon lose whatever friendly feeling you have for me."
"Am I so changeable? I am not considered so," remonstrated Rose, gently.
Riviere explained; "I am not vain," said he, with that self- knowledge which is so general an attribute of human beings; "no man less so, nor am I jealous; but I respect myself, and I could never be content to share your time and your regard with Colonel Dujardin, nor with a much better man. See now; he has made me arrogant. Was I ever so before?"
"No! no! no! and I forgive you now, my poor Edouard."
"He has made you cold as ice to me."
"No! that was my own wickedness and spitefulness."
"Wickedness, spitefulness! they are not in your nature. It is all that wretch's doing."
Rose sighed, but she said nothing; for she saw that to excuse Camille would
"Dear Edouard, what folly! Can you suspect me of discourtesy, as well as of--I know not what. Colonel Dujardin will join us, that is all, and we shall take a little walk with him."
"Not I. I decline the intrusion; you are engaged with me, and I have things to say to you that are not fit for that puppy to hear. So choose between me and him, and choose forever."
Rose colored. "I should be very sorry to choose either of you forever; but for this afternoon I choose you."
"Oh, thank you--my whole life shall prove my gratitude for this preference."
Rose beckoned Jacintha, and sent her with an excuse to Colonel Dujardin. She then turned with an air of mock submission to Edouard. "I am at monsieur's ORDERS."
Then this unhappy novice, being naturally good-natured, thanked her again and again for her condescension in setting his heart at rest. He proposed a walk, since his interference had lost her one. She yielded a cold assent. This vexed him, but he took it for granted it would wear off before the end of the walk. Edouard's heart bounded, but he loved her too sincerely to be happy unless he could see her happy too; the malicious thing saw this, or perhaps knew it by instinct, and by means of this good feeling of his she revenged herself for his tyranny. She tortured him as only a woman can torture, and as even she can torture only a worthy man, and one who loves her. In the course of that short walk this inexperienced girl, strong in the instincts and inborn arts of her sex, drove pins and needles, needles and pins, of all sorts and sizes, through her lover's heart.
She was everything by turns, except kind, and nothing for long together. She was peevish, she was ostentatiously patient and submissive, she was inattentive to her companion and seemingly wrapped up in contemplation of absent things and persons, the colonel to wit; she was dogged, repulsive, and cold; and she never was herself a single moment. They returned to the gate of the Pleasaunce. "Well, mademoiselle," said Riviere very sadly, "that interloper might as well have been with us."
"Of course he might, and you would have lost nothing by permitting me to be courteous to a guest and an invalid. If you had not played the tyrant, and taken the matter into your own hands, I should have found means to soothe your jeal--I mean your vanity; but you preferred to have your own way. Well, you have had it."
"Yes, mademoiselle, you have given me a lesson; you have shown me how idle it is to attempt to force a young lady's inclinations in anything."
He bade her good-day, and went away sorrowful.
She cut Camille dead for the rest of the day.
Next morning, early, Edouard called expressly to see her. "Mademoiselle Rose," said he, humbly, "I called to apologize for the ungentlemanly tone of my remonstrances yesterday."
"Fiddle-dee," said Rose. "Don't do it again; that is the best apology."
"I am not likely to offend so again," said he sadly. "I am going away. I am sorry to say I am promoted; my new post is ten leagues. HE WILL HAVE IT ALL HIS OWN WAY NOW. But perhaps it is best. Were I to stay here, I foresee you would soon lose whatever friendly feeling you have for me."
"Am I so changeable? I am not considered so," remonstrated Rose, gently.
Riviere explained; "I am not vain," said he, with that self- knowledge which is so general an attribute of human beings; "no man less so, nor am I jealous; but I respect myself, and I could never be content to share your time and your regard with Colonel Dujardin, nor with a much better man. See now; he has made me arrogant. Was I ever so before?"
"No! no! no! and I forgive you now, my poor Edouard."
"He has made you cold as ice to me."
"No! that was my own wickedness and spitefulness."
"Wickedness, spitefulness! they are not in your nature. It is all that wretch's doing."
Rose sighed, but she said nothing; for she saw that to excuse Camille would