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atmosphere around me pure. No woman could captivate me. The king



noticed my reserve, and as, in this respect, he belonged to the school

of Louis XV., he called me, in jest, Mademoiselle de Vandenesse; but



my conduct pleased him. I am convinced that the habit of patience I

acquired in my childhood and practised at Clochegourde had much to do



in my winning the favor of the king, who was always most kind to me.

He no doubt took a fancy to read my letters, for he soon gave up his



notion of my life as that of a young girl. One day when the duke was

on duty, and I was writing at the king's dictation, the latter



suddenly remarked, in that fine, silvery voice of his, to which he

could give, when he chose, the biting tone of epigram:--



"So that poor devil of a Mortsauf persists in living?"

"Yes," replied the duke.



"Madame de Mortsauf is an angel, whom I should like to see at my

court," continued the king; "but if I cannot manage it, my chancellor



here," turning to me, "may be more fortunate. You are to have six

months' leave; I have decided on giving you the young man we spoke of



yesterday as colleague. Amuse yourself at Clochegourde, friend Cato!"

and he laughed as he had himself wheeled out of the room.



I flew like a swallow to Touraine. For the first time I was to show

myself to my beloved, not merely a little less insignificant, but



actually in the guise of an elegant young man, whose manners had been

formed in the best salons, his education finished by gracious women;



who had found at last a compensation for all his sufferings, and had

put to use the experience given to him by the purest angel to whom



heaven had ever committed the care of a child. You know how my mother

had equipped me for my three months' visit at Frapesle. When I reached



Clochegourde after fulfilling my mission in Vendee, I was dressed like

a huntsman; I wore a jacket with white and red buttons, striped



trousers, leathern gaiters and shoes. Tramping through underbrush had

so injured my clothes that the count was obliged to lend me linen. On



the present occasion, two years' residence in Paris, constant

intercourse with the king, the habits of a life at ease, my completed



growth, a youthfulcountenance, which derived a lustre from the

placidity of the soul within magnetically united with the pure soul



that beamed on me from Clochegourde,--all these things combined had

transformed me. I was self-possessed without conceit, inwardly pleased



to find myself, in spite of my years, at the summit of affairs; above

all, I had the consciousness of being secretly the support and comfort



of the dearest woman on earth, and her unuttered hope. Perhaps I felt

a flutter of vanity as the postilions cracked their whips along the



new avenue leading from the main road to Clochegourde and through an

iron gate I had never seen before, which opened into a circular



enclosure recently constructed. I had not written to the countess of

my coming, wishing to surprise her. For this I found myself doubly in



fault: first, she was overwhelmed with the excitement of a pleasure

long desired, but supposed to be impossible; and secondly, she proved



to me that all such deliberate surprises are in bad taste.

When Henriette saw a young man in him who had hitherto seemed but a



child to her, she lowered her eyes with a sort of tragic slowness. She

allowed me to take and kiss her hand without betraying her inward



pleasure, which I nevertheless felt in her sensitiveshiver. When she

raised her face to look at me again, I saw that she was pale.



"Well, you don't forget your old friends?" said Monsieur de Mortsauf,

who had neither changed nor aged.



The children sprang upon me. I saw them behind the grave face of the

Abbe Dominis, Jacques' tutor.



"No," I replied, "and in future I am to have six months' leave, which

will always be spent here--Why, what is the matter?" I said to the



countess, putting my arm round her waist and holding her up in

presence of them all.



"Oh, don't!" she said, springing away from me; "it is nothing."




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