“Why do you think so?”

“By the mystery you make about her; but love betrays itself even by its silence.”

“You are a knowing fellow, Tiretta.  I will come to dinner, but don’t say a word to anybody.”

My heart was rent in twain.  Possibly if the merchant had put off his arrival for a month I should have welcomed it; but to have only just lifted the nectar to my lips, and to see the precious vessel escape from my hands!  To this day I can recall my feelings, and the very recollection is not devoid of bitterness.

I was in a fearful state of perplexity, as I always was whenever it was necessary for me to resolve, and I felt that I could not do so.  If the reader has been placed in the same position he will understand my feelings.  I could not make up my mind to consent to her marrying, nor could I resolve to wed her myself and gain certain happiness.

I went to Villette and was a little surprised to find Mdlle. de la Meure more elaborately dressed than usual.

“Your intended,” I said, “would have pronounced you charming without all that.”

“My aunt doesn’t think so”

“You have not seen him yet?”

“No, but I should like to, although I trust with your help never to become his wife.”

Soon after, she arrived with Corneman, the banker, who had been the agent in this business transaction.  The merchant was a fine man, about forty, with a frank and open face.  His dress was good though not elaborate.  He introduced himself simply but in a polite manner to Madame, and he did not look at his future wife till the aunt presented her to him.  His manner immediately became more pleasing; and without making use of flowers of speech he said in a very feeling way that he trusted the impression he had made on her was equal to that which she had made on him.  Her only answer was a low curtsy, but she studied him carefully.

Dinner was served, and in the course of the meal we talked of almost everything—­except marriage.  The happy pair only caught each other’s eyes by chance, and did not speak to one another.  After dinner Mdlle. de la Meure went to her room, and the aunt went into her closet with the banker and the merchant, and they were in close conversation for two hours.  At the end of that time the gentlemen were obliged to return to Paris, and Madame, after summoning her niece, told the merchant she would expect him to dinner on the day following, and that she was sure that her niece would be glad to see him again.

“Won’t you, my dear?”

“Yes, aunt, I shall be very glad to see the gentleman again.”

If she had not answered thus, the merchant would have gone away without hearing his future bride speak.

“Well,” said the aunt, “what do you think of your husband?”

“Allow me to put off my answer till to-morrow; but be good enough, when we are at table, to draw me into the conversation, for it is very possible that my face has not repelled him, but so far he knows nothing of my mental powers; possibly my want of wit may destroy any slight impression my face may have made.”