“What is the matter?” she said, after walking a little way in a silence I dared not break.  “Your heart beats too fast—­”

“I have heard of your good fortune,” I replied, “and, like all others who love truly, I am beset with vague fears.  Will your new dignities change you and lessen your friendship?”

“Change me!” she said; “oh, fie!  Another such idea and I shall—­not despise you, but forget you forever.”

I looked at her with an ecstasy which should have been contagious.

“We profit by the new laws which we have neither brought about nor demanded,” she said; “but we are neither place-hunters nor beggars; besides, as you know very well, neither Monsieur de Mortsauf nor I can leave Clochegourde.  By my advice he has declined the command to which his rank entitled him at the Maison Rouge.  We are quite content that my father should have the place.  This forced modesty,” she added with some bitterness, “has already been of service to our son.  The king, to whose household my father is appointed, said very graciously that he would show Jacques the favor we were not willing to accept.  Jacques’ education, which must now be thought of, is already being discussed.  He will be the representative of two houses, the Lenoncourt and the Mortsauf families.  I can have no ambition except for him, and therefore my anxieties seem to have increased.  Not only must Jacques live, but he must be made worthy of his name; two necessities which, as you know, conflict.  And then, later, what friend will keep him safe for me in Paris, where all things are pitfalls for the soul and dangers for the body?  My friend,” she said, in a broken voice, “who could not see upon your brow and in your eyes that you are one who will inhabit heights?  Be some day the guardian and sponsor of our boy.  Go to Paris; if your father and brother will not second you, our family, above all my mother, who has a genius for the management of life, will help you.  Profit by our influence; you will never be without support in whatever career you choose; put the strength of your desires into a noble ambition—­”

“I understand you,” I said, interrupting her; “ambition is to be my mistress.  I have no need of that to be wholly yours.  No, I will not be rewarded for my obedience here by receiving favors there.  I will go; I will make my own way; I will rise alone.  From you I would accept everything, from others nothing.”

“Child!” she murmured, ill-concealing a smile of pleasure.

“Besides, I have taken my vows,” I went on.  “Thinking over our situation I am resolved to bind myself to you by ties that never can be broken.”

She trembled slightly and stopped short to look at me.

“What do you mean?” she asked, letting the couples who preceded us walk on, and keeping the children at her side.

“This,” I said; “but first tell me frankly how you wish me to love you.”

“Love me as my aunt loved me; I gave you her rights when I permitted you to call me by the name which she chose for her own among my others.”