He proposed making her take a little warm wine, which Marianne declared to be a sovereign remedy, and spoke of going to wake up his servant.

Marianne opposed this with all her power.

—­Since you have the kindness to offer something to our dear young lady, she said, let me make it.  Good Heavens! to wake up Mademoiselle Veronica! what would she say? that I am good for nothing, and she would be right.

—­Well, said Marcel, I am going to show you where you will find what is necessary.

They both went down to the kitchen, as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb Veronica’s slumber, and Marianne declared that with an armful of dry wood, she would have finished in a few minutes.

—­Then I leave you, said the priest; I must not leave Mademoiselle Suzanne alone.

He remained several seconds longer, hesitating, following the movements of the old governess without seeing them, then all at once he quickly remounted the stair-case.

XXXVI.

TETE-A-TETE.

  “’Tis yours to use aright the hour
  Which destiny may leave you,
  To drain the cup of oldest wine,
  And pluck the morning’s roses.”

  A. BUSQUET (La poesie des heures).

He halted at the threshold, pale and trembling as if he were about to commit a crime.

He passed his hand over his brow, it was damp with a cold sweat.  What!  Suzanne was there, in his house, alone, in the middle of the night, in his own room, beside his fire, seated in his arm-chair.  Oh, blessed vision!  Was it possible?  Was he dreaming?  Would the charming picture disappear?  And he remained there, motionless, anxious, not daring to move a step, for fear of seeing her disappear.  But yes, it is she indeed; she has hidden her charming face in her hands, and it seems to him that tears are stealing through her fingers.

He sprang towards her.

—­Oh!  Mademoiselle, what is the matter?  What is the matter?  Why these tears, which break my heart?  Confide your troubles to me, and, I swear to you, if it be in my power, I will alleviate them.

—­You cannot, answered Suzanne sadly, lifting to him her great moist eyes.

—­I cannot! do not believe that, my child:  the priest can do many things; he knows how to comfort souls, it is the most precious of his gifts.  Do not hesitate to confide your griefs to the priest, to the friend.

He sat down, facing her, waiting for her to speak.  But she remained silent; he only heard the rapid breathing of the young girl, and the storm which raged in his own heart.

At length he broke the silence.

—­Mademoiselle, dear young lady, he said with his most insinuating voice, do you lack confidence then in me?  Ah!  I see but too well, your father’s prejudices have left their marks.

—­Do not believe it, she cried eagerly, do not believe it.