La Vendée

  CHAPTER VIII.

  AGATHA LAROCHEJAQUELIN.

  As Chapeau had said, great preparations were made at Durbelliere for thecoming campaign. The old Marquis had joined with his son in furnishingeverything which their limited means would admit of, for the wants ofthe royalists. Durbelliere had become quite a depot; the large granariesat the top of the house were no longer empty; they were stored withsacks of meal, with pikes and muskets, and with shoes for the soldiers.Agatha's own room looked like an apartment in a hospital; it was filledwith lint, salves, and ointments, to give ease to those whom the warsshould send home wounded; all the contents of the cellars weresacrificed; wine, beer, and brandy, were alike given up to aid thespirits of the combatants; the cattle were drawn in from the farms, andkept round the house in out-houses and barns, ready to be slaughtered,as occasion might require, an abattoir was formed in the stable yard,and a butcher kept in regular employment; a huge oven was built in anouthouse attached to the stables, and here bakers, from neighbouringparishes, were continually kept at work: they neither expected, orreceived wages; they, and all the others employed got their meals in thelarge kitchen of the chateau, and were content to give their work to thecause without fee or reward. Provisions, cattle, and implements, werealso sent from M. de Lescure's house to Durbelliere, as it wasconsidered to be more central, and as it was supposed that there werestill some republicans in the neighbourhood of Bressuire, whereas, itwas well known that there were none in the rural districts; the morerespectable of the farmers also, and other country gentlemen sentsomething; and oxen, sheep, and loads of meal; jars of oil, and casksof wine were coming in during the whole week before the siege of Saumur,and the same horses took them out again in the shape of bread, meat, andrations, to the different points where they would be required.

  As soon as M. de Lescure had left home, on his recruiting service in thesouth of La Vendee, the ladies of his house went over to Durbelliere,to remain there till Henri Larochejaquelin should start for Saumur, andgive their aid to Agatha in all her work. Adolphe Denot was also there:he, too, had been diligently employed in collecting the different sinewsof wars; and as far as his own means went had certainly not begrudgedthem. There was still an unhappy air of dissatisfaction about him, whichwas not to be observed with any one else: his position did not contenthis vanity; the people did not talk of him as they did of Cathelineau,and Henri Larochejaquelin; he heard nothing of La Vendee relying on hisefforts; the nanes of various men were mentioned as trustworthy leaders,but his own was never among them. De Lescure, Charette, d'Elbee,Stofflet, were all talked of; and what had they done more than he had;or what, indeed, so much: the two latter were men of low origin, who hadmerely shown courage in the time of need: indeed, what more hadCathelineau done; whereas, he had never failed in courage, and hadgiven, moreover, his money, and his property; yet he felt that he waslooked on as a nobody. Jacques Chapeau was almost of more importance.

  And then, again, his love for Agatha tormented him. He had thought topique her by a show of indifference himself, but he found that this plandid not answer: it was evident, even to him, that Agatha was not vexedby his silence, his altered demeanour, and sudden departure. He hadmiscalculated her character, and now found that he must use other meansto rouse the affection in her heart, without which he felt, at present,that he could not live happily. He thought that she could not have seenwith indifference the efforts he was making in the cause which she lovedso well; and he determined to throw himself at her feet before hestarted for Saumur, and implore her to give him a place in heraffections, while her heart was softened by the emotions, which thedeparture of so many of her friends, on the eve of battle, wouldoccasion.

  Agatha had had but little conversation with him since his last arrivalat Durbelliere, but still she felt that he was about to propose to her.She shunned him as much as she could; she scrupulously avoided theopportunity which he anxiously sought; she never allowed herself to bealone with him; but she was nevertheless sure the evil hour would come;she saw it in his eye as they sat together at their meals--she heard itin the tones of his voice every time he spoke. She knew from his mannerthat he was preparing himself for the interview, and she also knew thathe would not submit tamely to the only answer she could bring herselfto give him.

  "Marie," said she to her cousin, on the Saturday evening, "I am in thegreatest distress, pray help me, dearest. I am sure you know what ailsme."

  "In distress, Agatha, and wanting help from me!--you that are wont tohelp all the world yourself! But I know, from your face, you are onlyhalf in earnest."

  "Indeed, and indeed, I never was much more so. I never was more trulyin want of council. Can you not guess what my sorrow is?"

  "Not unless it is, that you have a lover too much?--or perhaps you findthe baker's yeast runs short?"

  "Ah, Marie, will you always joke when I am serious!"

  "Well then, Agatha, now I am serious--is it that you have a lover toomuch?"

  "Can any trouble be more grievous?"

  "Oh, dear, yes! ten times worse. My case is ten times worse: and alas,alas! there is no cure for that."

  "Your case, Marie?"

  "Yes, my case, Agatha--a lover too few!"

  "Ah, Marie, do not joke with me tonight. I want your common sense, andnot your wit, just now. Be a good, dear girl, and tell me what I shallsay to him. I know he will not go to Saumur before--before he hasproposed to me."

  "Then, in the name of common sense, dear Agatha, tell him the truth,whatever it may be."

  "You know I do not--cannot love him."

  "Nay, I know nothing. You have not said yet who 'him' is--but I own Ican give a guess. I suppose poor Adolphe Denot is the man you cannotlove? Poor Adolphe! he must be told so, that is all."

  "But how shall I tell him, Marie? He is so unlike other men. Henri ishis friend, and yet he has never spoken to him about me, nor to myfather. If he would ask my hand from Henri, as another would, Henriwould talk to him, and explain to him that it could not be-that my heartis too much occupied with other cares, to care for loving or beingloved."

  "That means, Agatha, till the right lover comes."

  "No, Marie; but till these wars are over. Not that I could ever loveAdolphe Denot; but now, at present, methinks love should be banishedfrom the country, and not allowed to return till the King is on histhrone again."

  "Well, Agatha, I don't know. That would be somewhat hard upon us poorgirls, whose lovers are more to our taste, than M. Denot is to yours.I know not that our knights will fight the worse for a few stray smiles,though the times be so frightful."

  "Do you smile on yours then, Marie; and I will smile to see you happy.But tell me, dearest, what shall I say to Adolphe? You would not haveme give him hope, when I feel I can never love him?"

  "God forbid!--why should you? But has he never spoken to Henri on thesubject, or to the Marquis?"

  "Never a word. I'm sure he never spoke of it to my father, and Henritold me that he had never said a word to him."

  "Then you have spoken to your brother on the subject? And what did hesay?"

  "He said just what a dear, good brother should have said. He said he wassorry for his friend, but that on no account whatever would he sacrificehis sister's happiness."

  "M. Larochejaquelin always does just what he ought to do. He is as goodand kind to you as Charles is to me."

  "Henri and I are so nearly of an age; we were always companionstogether. I do not think any lover will be agreeable to me as long ashe is with me."

  "But if he should take a love of his own, Agatha? It won't do, you know,for sisters to monopolize their brothers; or what shall we spinsters do?"

  "He shall bring his love here, and she shall be my own sister. If hemakes the choice I think he will, I shall not have to open a new placein my heart for her, shall I, Marie?"

  "Nay, I know not. Now it is you that wander from the subject."

  "And it is cruel in you to bring me back to it. If he proposes to metomorrow, Marie, what sha
ll I say to him?"

  "Keep out of his way tomorrow. He goes on Monday morning."

  "It is very well to say, 'Keep out of his way;' but if he formallydemands an interview, I cannot refuse it."

  "If he formally desires an interview, do you give him a formalreception: if he formally offers you his hand, do you formally declinethe honour."

  "I would it were you, Marie, that he loved."

  "A thousand thanks to you, Mademoiselle Larochejaquelin. I appreciateyour generosity, but really I have no vacancy for M. Denot, just atpresent."

  "Ah! but you would reject him with so much more ease, than I can do it."

  "Practice, my dear, is everything: this time you may feel a littleawkward, but you will find you will dispose of your second lover withoutmuch difficulty, and you will give his conge to your third with as muchease, as though you were merely dismissing a disobedient kitchen-maid."

  "I cannot bear to give pain; and Adolphe will be pained; his self-lovewill be wounded at the idea of being rejected."

  "Then spare his self-love, and accept him."

  "No; that I will not do."

  "Then wound his self-love, and reject him."

  "Would I could do the one without the other; would I could persuade himI was not worthy of him."

  "Nay, do not attempt that; that will be direct encouragement."

  "I will tell him that I am averse to marriage; in truth, that will beno falsehood. I do not think that my heart is capable of more love thanit feels at present."

  "That may be true now, Agatha; but suppose your heart should enlargebefore the autumn, at the touch of some gallant wizard--take my advice,dear girl, make no rash promises."

  "I will tell him that I cannot think of love till the King is on thethrone once more."

  "If you say so, he will promise valiantly to restore His Majesty, andthen to return to you to look for his reward. Shall I tell you, Agatha,what I should say?"

  "Do, dearest Marie: tell me in sober earnest; and if there be ought ofsobriety mixed with your wit, I will take your advice."

  "I would say to him thus: 'M. Denot,' or 'Adolphe,' just as your customis to address him--but mind, mark you, make him speak out firmly andformally first, that your answer may be equally firm and formal. 'M.Denot, you have paid me the greatest honour which a gentleman can paya lady, and I am most grateful for the good opinion which you haveexpressed. I should be ungrateful were I to leave you for one moment indoubt as to my real sentiments: I cannot love you as I ought to love myhusband. I hope you will never doubt my true friendship for you; butmore than sincere friendship I cannot give you.' There, Agatha, not aword more, nor a word less than that; sit quite straight on your chair,as though you were nailed to it; do not look to the right or to theleft; do not frown or smile."

  "There will not be the least danger of my smiling, Marie."

  "But do not frown neither; fancy that you are the district judge, givingsentence on a knotty piece of law; show neither sentiment, pride, noranger. Be quite cold, inflexible and determined; and, above all things,do not move from your seat; and I think you will find your lover willtake his answer: but if he do not--repeat it all over again, with alittle more emphasis, and rather slower than before. If it be necessary,you may repeat it a third time, or indeed till he goes away, but nevervary the words. He must be a most determined man if he requires thethird dose. I never heard of but one who wasn't satisfied with thesecond, and he was an Irishman."

  "If I could only insist on his sitting still and silent to hear me makemy formidable speech, your advice might be very good."

  "That, my dear, is your own strong point: if he attempts to interruptyou, hear what he says, and then begin again. By the time you have gotto your 'real sentiments,' I doubt not he will be in his tantrums: butdo you not get into tantrums too, or else you are as good as lost; letnothing tempt you to put in an unpremeditated word; one word might befatal; but, above all, do not move; nothing but an awful degree of calmon your part will frighten him into quiescence: if you once but move,you will find M. Denot at your feet, and your hand pressed to his lips.You might as well have surrendered at once, if anything like thatoccur."

  "Well, Marie, let what will happen, at any rate I will not surrender,as you call it. As to sitting like the district judge, and pronouncingsentence on my lover as you advise--I fear I lack the nerve for it."

  Agatha was quite right in her forebodings. Adolphe Denot had firmly madeup his mind to learn his fate before he started for Saumur, andimmediately on rising from breakfast, he whispered to Agatha that hewished to speak to her alone for a moment. In her despair she proposedthat he should wait till after mass, and Adolphe consented; but duringthe whole morning she felt how weak she had been in postponing the evilhour; she had a thousand last things to do for her brother, a thousandlast words to say to him; but she was fit neither to do nor to sayanything; even her prayers were disturbed; in spite of herself herthoughts clung to the interview which she had to go through.

  Since the constitutional priests had been sent into the country, and theold Cures silenced, a little temporary chapel had been fitted up in thechateau at Durbelliere, and here the former parish priest officiatedevery Sunday; the peasants of the parish of St. Aubin were allowed tocome to this little chapel; at first a few only had attended, but thenumber had increased by degrees, and at the time when the revoltcommenced, the greater portion of the pastor's old flock crowded intoor round the chateau every Sunday; so that the Sabbath morning atDurbelliere was rather a noisy time. This was especially the case on the6th of June, as the people had so much to talk about, and most of themen wished to see either the old or the young master, and most of thewomen wanted to speak to one of the ladies; by degrees, however, thechateau was cleared, and Agatha with a trembling heart retreated to herown little sitting-room upstairs to keep her appointment with AdolpheDenot.

  She had not been long there, when Adolphe knocked at the door: he hadbeen there scores of times before, and had never knocked; but, althoughhe was going to propose to make Agatha his wife, he felt that he couldno longer treat her, with his accustomed familiarity.

  He entered the room and found Agatha seated; so far she had taken herfriend's advice; she was very pale, but still she looked calm anddignified, and was certainly much less confused than her lover.

  "Agatha," said he, having walked up to the fire-place, and leaning withhis arm upon the mantle-piece, "Agatha, tomorrow I start for Saumur."

  He was dressed very point-de-vice; the frills of his shirt were mostaccurately starched; his long black hair was most scrupulously brushed;his hands were most delicately white; his boots most brilliantlypolished; he appeared more fit to adorn the salon of an ambassador, thanto take a place as a warrior beneath the walls of a besieged town.Adolphe was always particular in his dress, but he now exceeded himself;and he appeared to be the more singular in this respect at Durbellierejust at present, as the whole of the party except himself womenincluded, had forgotten or laid aside, as unimportant, the usual caresof the toilet.

  "You, at any rate, go in good company, Adolphe," said Agatha, attemptingto smile. "May you all be successful, and return as heroes--heroes,indeed, you are already; but may you gather fresh laurels at Saumur. Iam sure you will. I, for one, am not in the least despondent."

  "Yes, Agatha, I shall go to Saumur, determined at any rate not to losethere any little honour I may yet have won. If I cannot place the whiteflag of La Vendee on the citadel of Saumur, I will at any rate fall inattempting it."

  "I am very sure, that if you fail, it will not be for lack of courage,or of resolution. You and Henri, and M. de Lescure and our good friendCathelineau, have taught us to expect victory as the sure result of yourattempts."

  "Ah! Agatha, one word from your lips, such as I long to hear, would makeme feel that I could chain victory to my sword, and rush into the midstof battle panoplied against every harm."

  "Your duty to your King should be your best assurance of victory; yourtrust in your Saviour, your p
anoply against harm; if these did not availyou, as I know they do, the vain word of a woman would be of littleservice."

  "You speak coldly, Agatha, and you look coldly on me. I trust yourfeelings are not cold also."

  "I should have hoped that many years of very intimate acquaintancebetween us, of friendship commenced in childhood, and now cemented bycommon sympathies and common dangers, would have made you aware that myfeelings are not cold towards you."

  "Oh no! not cold in the ordinary sense. You wish me well, I doubt not,and your kind heart would grieve, if you heard that I had fallen beneaththe swords of the republicans; but you would do the same for Cathelineauor M. de Bonchamps. If I cannot wake a warmer interest in your heartthan that, I should prefer that you should forget me altogether."

  Agatha began to fear that at this rate the interview would have no end.If Adolphe remained with his arm on the marble slab, and his head on oneside, making sentimental speeches, till she should give himencouragement to fall at her feet, it certainly would not be ended bybed-time. She, therefore, summoned all her courage, and said,

  "When you asked me to meet you here, your purpose was not to reproachme with coldness--was it Adolphe? Perhaps it will be better for both ofus that this interview should terminate now. We shall part friends, dearfriends; and I will rejoice at your triumphs, when you are victorious;and will lament at your reverses, should you be unlucky. I shall do thesame for my own dear Henri, and I know that you two will not beseparated. There is my hand," she added, thinking that he appeared tohesitate; "and now let us go down to our friends, who are expecting us."

  "Are you so soon weary of hearing the few words I wish to say to you?"said Adolphe, who had taken her hand, and who seemed inclined to keepit.

  "No, I am not weary. I will hear anything you wish to say." And Agathahaving withdrawn her hand, sat down, and again found herself in aposition to take advantage of Marie's good advice.

  Adolphe remained silent for a minute or two, with his head supported onhis hand, and gazing on the lady of his love with a look that wasintended to fascinate her. Agatha sat perfectly still; she was evidentlymindful of the lesson she had received: at last, Adolphe started up fromhis position, walked a step or two into the middle of the room, thrusthis right hand into his bosom; and said abruptly, "Agatha, this ischild's play; we are deceiving each other; we are deceiving ourselves;we would appear to be calm when there is no calm within us."

  "Do not say we. I am not deceiving myself; I trust I am not deceivingyou."

  "And is your heart really so tranquil?" said he. "Does that fair bosomcontrol no emotion? Is that lovely face, so exquisitely pale, a trueindex of the spirit within? Oh! Agatha! it cannot be; while my own heartis so torn with love; while I feel my own pulses beat so strongly; whilemy own brain burns so fiercely, I cannot believe that your bosom is astranger to all emotion! Some passion akin to humanity must make youfeel that you are not all divine! Speak, Agatha; if that lovely form haswithin it ought that partakes of the weakness of a woman, tell me, thatat some future time you will accept the love I offer you; tell me, thatI may live in hope. Oh, Agatha! bid me not despair," and M. Denot inbodily reality fell prostrate at her feet.

  When Agatha had gone up to her room, she had prepared herself for a mostdisagreeable interview, but she had not expected anything so reallydreadful as this. Adolphe had not contented himself with kneeling at herfeet on one knee, and keeping his head erect in the method usual in suchcases; but he had gone down upon both knees, had thrown his head uponher feet, and was now embracing her shoes and stockings in a veryvehement manner; her legs were literally caught in a trap; she couldn'tmove them; and Adolphe was sobbing so loudly that it was difficult tomake him hear anything.

  "Adolphe, Adolphe, get up!" she almost screamed, "this is ridiculous inthe extreme; if you will not get up, I must really call for some one. Icannot allow you to remain there!"

  "Oh, Agatha, Agatha!" sobbed Adolphe.

  "Nonsense, Adolphe," said Agatha. "Are you a man, to lie grovelling onthe floor like that? Rise up, or you will lose my esteem for ever, ifthat be of any value to you."

  "Give me one gleam of hope, and I will rise," said he, still remainingon his knees, but now looking up into her face; "tell me not to despair,and I will then accomplish any feat of manhood. Give me one look ofcomfort, and I will again be the warrior ready for the battle; it is youonly who can give me back my courage; it is you only who can restore tome the privilege of standing erect before all mankind."

  "I can tell you nothing, Adolphe, but this--that, if you continue onyour knees, I shall despise you; if you will rise, I will give you atany rate a reasonable answer."

  "Despise me, Agatha! no, you cannot despise me; the unutterable burninglove of a true heart is not despicable; the character which I bearbefore mankind is not despicable. Man is not despicable when he kneelsbefore the object which he worships; and, Agatha, with all my heart, Iworship you!"

  "Now you are profane as well as contemptible, and I shall leave you,"and she walked towards the door.

  "Stay then," said he, "stay, and I will rise," and, suiting the actionto the word, he got up. "Now speak to me in earnest, Agatha; and, sinceyou will have it so, I also, if possible, will be calm. Speak to me;but, unless you would have the misery of a disturbed spirit on yourconscience, bid me not despair!"

  "Is that your calmness, Adolphe?"

  "Can a man, rushing towards the brink of a precipice, be calm? Can a manbe calm on the verge of the grave? I love you, Agatha, with a true andholy love; but still with a love fierce and untameable. You reviled mewhen I said I worshipped you, but I adore the ground you tread on, andthe air you breathe. I would shed my last drop of blood to bring youease; but I could not live and see you give that fair hand to another.My joy would be to remain ever as your slave; but then the heart thatbeats beneath your bosom must be my own. Agatha, I await your answer;one word from your lips can transport me to paradise!"

  "If I am to understand that you are asking me for love--for a warmerlove than that which always accompanies true friendship--I am obligedto say that I cannot give it you." Adolphe remained standing in themiddle of the room, with his hand still fixed in his bosom, and with alook intended to represent both thunder and lightning. He had reallythought that the little scene which he had gone through, very much tohis own satisfaction, would have a strong effect on Agatha, and he wassomewhat staggered by the cool and positive tone of her reply. "Itgrieves me that I should give you pain," she continued, "if my answerdoes pain you; but I should never forgive myself, were I not to speakthe truth to you plainly, and at once."

  "And do you mean that for your final, and only answer to me?"

  "Certainly, my only answer; for I can give you no other. I know you willbe too kind, too sensible, to make it necessary that I should repeatit."

  "This is dreadful," said Denot, putting his hand to his brow, "this isvery dreadful!" and he commenced pacing up and down the room.

  "Come," said she, good naturedly, "let us go down--let us forget thislittle episode--you have so much of happiness, and of glory before you,that I should grieve to see you mar your career by a hopeless passion.Take the true advice of a devoted friend," and she put her hand kindlyon his arm, "let us both forget this morning's scene--let us onlyremember our childhood's friendship; think, Adolphe, how much you haveto do for your King and your country, and do hot damp your gloriousexertion by fostering a silly passion. Am not I the same to you as asister? Wait till these wars are over, and then I will gather flowersfor you to present to some mistress who shall truly love you."

  "No, Agatha, the flowers you gather for me shall never leave my ownbosom. If it be the myrtle, I will wear it with joy to my dying day,next my heart: if it is to be a cyprus branch, it shall soon be laidwith me in the tomb."

  "You will think less sadly in a short time," said Agatha; "your spiritswill recover their proper tone amid the excitement of battle. We hadbetter part now, Adolphe;" and she essayed to leave the room, but he wasnow l
eaning against the door, and did not seem inclined to let herdepart so easily.

  "You will not, I hope, begrudge me a few moments," said he, speakingbetween his teeth.

  "You may reject me with scorn, but you can hardly refuse me the courtesywhich any gentleman would have a right to expect from your hands."

  "You know that I will refuse you nothing which, either in courtesy orkindness, I can do for you," said she, again sitting down. He, however,seeing her once more seated, did not appear much inclined to concludewhat he had to say to her, for he continued walking up and down theroom, in a rather disturbed manner; "but you should remember," sheadded, "how soon Henri is going to leave me, and how much we have allto think and to talk of."

  "I see my presence is unwelcome, and it shall not trouble you long. Iwould soon rid your eyes of my hated form, but I must first say a fewwords, though my throat be choked with speaking them. My passion for youis no idle boyish love; it has grown with my growth, and matured itselfwith my manhood. I cannot now say to myself that it shall cease to be.I cannot restore calmness to my heart or rest to my bosom. My love isa fire which cannot now be quenched; it must be nourished, or it willdestroy the heart which is unable to restrain it. Think, Agatha, of allthe misery you are inflicting; think also of the celestial joy one wordof yours is capable of giving."

  "I have said before that I grieve to pain you; but I cannot speak afalsehood. Were it to save us both from instant death, I could not saythat I love you in the sense you mean."

  "Oh, Agatha! I do not ask you to love me--that is not to love me now;if you will only say that your heart is not for ever closed against myprayers, I will leave you contented."

  "I can say nothing which would give you any hope of that which can neverhappen."

  "And that is all I am to expect from you in return for as true a loveas man ever bore to woman?"

  "I cannot make you the return you wish. I can give you no other answer."

  "Well, Agatha, so be it. You shall find now that I can be calm, when myunalterable resolve requires it. You shall find that I am a man; at anyrate, you shall not again have to tell me that I am despicable," and hecurled his upper lip, and showed his teeth in a very ferocious manner."You shall never repeat that word in regard to Adolphe Denot. Shouldkind fortune favour my now dearest wish, you will soon hear that mybones are whitening under the walls of Saumur. You will hear that yourdes-pi-ca-ble lover," and he hissed out the offending word, syllable bysyllable, between his closed teeth, "has perished in his attempt to bethe first to place the white flag of La Vendee above the tri-colour. Ifsome friendly bullet will send me to my quiet home, Adolphe Denot shalltrouble you no longer," and as he spoke the last few words, he softenedhis voice, and re-assumed his sentimental look; but he did not remainlong in his quiet mood, for he again became furious, as he added: "Butif fortune should deny me this boon, if I cannot find the death I go toseek, I swear by your own surpassing beauty, by your glorious unequalledform, that I will not live without you. Death shall be welcome to me,"and he raised his hands to heaven, and then dashed them against hisbreast. "Oh! how dearly welcome! Yes, heroic death upon the battlefieldshall calm this beating heart--shall quell these agonized pangs. Yes,Agatha, if fortune be but kind, death, cold death, shall soon relieveus both; shall leave you free to bestow upon a colder suitor the prizeyou have refused to my hot, impatient love; but if," (and here heglanced very wildly round him), "my prayers are not heard, if afterSaumur's field, life be still left within my body's sanctuary, I willreturn to seize you as my own, though hosts in armour try to stop myway. I will not live without you. I will not endure to see another manaspire to the hand which has been refused to me. Adieu, Agatha, adieu!I trust we shall meet no more; in thinking of me, at any rate, yourmemory shall not call me despicable," and he rushed out of the door anddown stairs, without waiting to hear whether Agatha intended making anyanswer to this poetical expression of his fixed resolution.

  In the commencement of his final harangue, Agatha had determined to hearhim quietly to the end; but she had not expected anything so very madas the exhibition he made. However, she sat quietly through the wholeof it, and was glad that she was spared the necessity of a reply.

  Nothing more was seen of Adolphe Denot that night. Henri asked hissister whether she had seen him, and she told him that he had made adeclaration of love to her, and had expressed himself ill-satisfied withthe only answer she had been able to give him. She did not tell herbrother how like a demoniac his friend had behaved. To Marie she wasmore explicit; to her she repeated as nearly as possible the whole sceneas it had occurred; and although Agatha was almost weeping with sorrow,there was so much that was ludicrous in the affair, that Marie could notkeep herself from laughing.

  "He will trouble you no more," said she. "You will find that he will notreturn to Durbelliere to carry you off through the armed hosts. He willgo to England or emigrate; and in a few years' time, when you meet himagain, you will find him settled down, and as quiet as his neighbours.He is like new-made wine, my dear--he only wants age."

  On the following morning, by break of day, the party left Durbelliere,and Adolphe Denot joined his friend on the gravelled ring before thehouse; and Agatha, who had been with her brother in his room, lookingfrom the widow saw her unmanageable lover mount his horse in a quiet,decent way, like the rest of the party.