“You told her it was my favourite scent. Will you let me try it?”
“Ah!” murmured she, after a pause, which was more eloquent than all the speeches in the world. “She told me that you gave me no pleasure!”
“Do you know,” said I, “that the dear Countess wore her war dress? Has she not a nom de guerre? She very actively divested herself of her stays and gown. I thought I should see her in still more simple costume.”
“You would have been glad of that, you naughty boy!”
“I confess that your two bodies side by side would have formed a charming contrast.”
“A thing you never shall see, sir.”
“Who knows?”
“She is gone!”
“Nonsense, she will return.”
“You think she will return at once?”
“No.”
“Did you not see how angry she was?”
“I wager that before tomorrow morning she will write to you.”
“Must I accept the letter if one should come?”
“Yes; provided you let me see it.”
“Oh! of course I shall do nothing without your consent.”
“You promise?”
“I give you my word.”
“Then I leave you free to act.”
At that very moment someone tapped softly at the door, Violette knew at once it was the maid.
My clothes were disarranged, so I ran to the dressing room.
“Open the door,” I said.
The maid held a letter in her hand.
“Miss Violette,” said she, “the negro who came with the lady has just brought this for you.”
“Does he await a reply?”
“No, because he asked me to deliver it to you when you were alone.”
“You know Madame Leonie, that these precautions are quite useless, and that I have nothing to conceal from M. Christian.”
“Quite so, Miss. In any case, here is the letter.”
Violette took it; Leonie left the room and I made my reappearance.
“Well,” I said to her, “you see she did not even wait until tomorrow.”
“You are truly a good prophet,” said Violette, brandishing the letter.
Then she sat on my knee and we began reading the Countess' letter.
CHAPTER V
“Ungrateful child! Though, when I left you, I swore never to see you again and never to write to you even, my love for you, or rather my folly is, such that I cannot resist. Now mark me, I am rich, a widow, and free. I lived a life of misery with my husband, so I vowed eternal hatred to men, and I kept my vow. If you wish to love me, but mind, only me, I shall willingly forget that you have been sullied by man. You told me that you were not aware that I loved you. My love is such that I take your word for a justification of it-you did 'not know' and I cling to it. Ah! were you only unsullied!… But complete happiness is not to be found in this world. Therefore I am fain to take you such as my bad fortune has ordained.
“Well, if you will love me; if you are willing to forsake him, if you promise never to see him more-I will not say I will give you this or that; but I say: what is mine, shall be yours; we shall live together; my house, my carriage, my servants, shall be your own. We shall never leave one another. You shall be my friend, my sister, my darling child. You will be more than that-you will be my adored mistress! But you must be mine entirely. I am too jealous! Otherwise I should die!
“Give me a prompt reply. I shall await your letter as a condemned one, on death's threshold awaits a reprieve.
ODETTE.”
Violette looked at me and we both laughed.
“Well” I said to her; “it is clear she does not mince matters.”
“She is mad!”
“Yes. Mad with love for you, that's as plain as a pikestaff. What shall you do?”
“Why, I shall not reply.”
“No such thing. You must reply.”
“What for?”
“Why, you would not like to be responsible for her death?”
“Ah, Monsieur Christian, you wish to see the Countess in a state of nature!”
“But you know very well that she hates men!”
“Yes, but you will make her like them.”
“Now, hark you little Violette, if you do not like it…”
“No. Only promise me one thing.”
“What's that?”
“You will not make complete love to her.”
“What do you mean by complete love?”
“I allow you to use your eyes, your hands, your tongue even! But I keep the other thing for myself.”
“I swear it!”
“On what?”
“On our love. And now let us think of her ladyship's letter. The situation which she offers you is not to be despised.”
“I leave you? Never! You may dismiss me from your home; you may send me adrift. Since I came to you of my own accord, you have a perfect right to do so. But I would rather die than leave you.”
“Then let us say nothing more about it.”
“Then we must find some other means.”
“I think so too. You must write this.”
“What?”
“Take the pen.”
“Never mind. The Countess would willingly pay a louis for each of your mispelt words.”
“Then, if I write twenty-five lines, it will cost her twenty-five louis?”
“Never you mind. Now write away.”
“-il write.” Violette took the pen and thus wrote from my dictation:
“Madame la Comtesse:
“I fully understand that a life such as you offer me would be happiness; but I have been too hasty, and if my present life is not happiness, I have at least found some tinge of it in the arms of the man I love. I would not leave him for any consideration in the world. He would perhaps be soon reconciled to my loss, for they say that men are changeful; but as for me, I know that I should henceforth live in sorrow.
“I am grieved to give you such a reply. You have been so good to me that I love you with all my heart, and if we were not kept apart by social distinctions, I should wish to be your friend; though I can understand that you would not much care to have for your friend a woman you would have liked for a mistress.
