"What I know of her, and the recollection of her mother's great kindness to me, will always make me fond of her. But alas! my dear Ernestine, it is a matter of pride with me to shun any friendship that does not seem entirely disinterested, and this young lady is very wealthy and I am poor."
"You must have a poor opinion of her, then, after all," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, bitterly.
"Oh, no, Ernestine, after all her mother told me, I can not doubt her kindness of heart, but I am an entire stranger to her. Then, too, for many reasons, and more particularly from a fear of arousing sad recollections, I should not dare to speak of the circumstances which made me so intimately acquainted with her dying mother, nor of that mother's great kindness to me. Besides, would it not look very much as if I were trying to ingratiate myself with her, and presuming upon an affection to which I really have no claim?"
On hearing this admission, how earnestly Ernestine congratulated herself upon having won Herminie's affection before her new friend knew who she, Ernestine, really was! And what a strange coincidence! She had feared that, because she was the richest heiress in France, she would never be loved for herself alone; while Herminie, because she was poor, feared that her affection would not appear disinterested.
The duchess seemed to have become more and more depressed in spirits as the conversation proceeded. She had hoped to find in it a refuge from her own sad thoughts, but such had not been the case, for it was this same laudable pride which made Herminie fear that her love for Gerald might be attributed to vanity or mercenary motives, and so had led to the resolve which would inevitably ruin her only hope of happiness.
For how could she expect that Madame la Duchesse de Senneterre would ever consent to make the advances required of her? But alas! though endowed with sufficient courage to sacrifice her love to the dignity of that love, Herminie realised none the less keenly what terrible suffering this courageous sacrifice would entail.
So referring almost unconsciously to the anguish she felt, after a moment's silence, she remarked, in a strangely altered voice:
"Ah, my poor Ernestine, how sad it is that the purest and noblest affections can be thus degraded by unworthy suspicions!"
And unable to restrain her feelings any longer, she burst into tears and hid her face upon the bosom of Ernestine, who, half rising and pressing her friend to her heart, exclaimed:
"What is it, Herminie? What is it? I saw that you were becoming more and more depressed, but dared not ask you the reason."
"Do not say any more about it," replied Herminie, ashamed of her tears.
"Forgive this weakness in me, but just now a host of memories--"
"Herminie, I have no right to demand your confidence, I know, but sometimes it is a relief to talk of one's troubles--"
"Yes, yes, I know it. It is the constraint that is killing me, but oh, the humiliation, the disgrace!"
"Humiliation and disgrace attach to you? Oh, no, Herminie, you are too proud for that!"
"But is it not weak and humiliating to weep as I do, after having had the courage to make a commendable and even necessary resolution?" she sobbed.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, the duchess continued:
"Do not regard what I am about to tell you as a confidential revelation on my part, my dear child, but rather as a useful lesson."
"A lesson?"
"Yes, for you, like myself, are an orphan; like me, you are alone in the world; and possessed of none of the experience that might save you from the snares and pitfalls by which poor girls like us are continually surrounded. So listen to me, Ernestine, and may you be spared the misery I am suffering now."
And Herminie described the scene in which, justly incensed against Gerald, who had ventured to pay her landlord the money she owed, she had treated him first with haughtiness and disdain, but afterwards forgiven him, touched by the generous impulse to which he had thoughtlessly yielded. After which, Herminie continued in words like these:
"Two days after this meeting, in the hope of diverting my mind from thoughts which had already gained too great an ascendency over me for my peace of mind, I went to Madame Herbaut's house. Judge of my surprise when I met this same young man again at that entertainment. My first feeling was one of chagrin, almost of fear, a presentiment, doubtless; then I had the weakness to yield to the charm of this second meeting.
Never before had I seen a man who possessed, like him, manners at once unpretending, refined and distinguished, a brilliant, versatile mind, but never failing delicacy of feeling. I hate flattery, but his was characterised with so much grace and delicacy that I accepted it only too gladly, I fear. I learned that evening that his name was Gerald, and that--"
"Gerald?" Ernestine exclaimed, hastily, recollecting that the Duc de Senneterre, one of the suitors for her hand, was also named Gerald.
Just then a loud ring of the door-bell attracted Herminie's attention and prevented her from noticing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's astonishment. The latter arose from the bed at the sound, while Herminie, greatly annoyed by this interruption, directed her steps towards the door.
An elderly serving man handed her a note containing these words:
"I have not seen you for several days, my dear child, not having felt as well as usual. Can you see me this morning?
Most affectionately yours,
"MAILLEFORT.
"P.S.--Do not take the trouble to answer in writing. If you will see your old friend, simply say 'yes' to the bearer."
Herminie, in her grief, was inclined to find some excuse for deferring M. de Maillefort's visit, but remembering that the marquis, belonging to the aristocracy as he did, was doubtless acquainted with Gerald, and that she might obtain some more definite information concerning her lover without revealing her secret, she said to the servant:
"I shall expect to see M. le Marquis de Maillefort sometime during the day."
But as she returned to the room where Mlle. de Beaumesnil was awaiting her, Herminie said to herself:
"What if M. de Maillefort should come while Ernestine is here? Oh, well, it will not matter much, after all, if she does see him; besides, the dear child is so retiring that, as soon as a stranger comes, she is sure to leave me alone with him."
So Herminie continued her conversation with Mlle. de Beaumesnil without making any allusion to M. de Maillefort's approaching visit, for fear that Ernestine would leave sooner than she had intended.
CHAPTER IX.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
"Forgive me for having deserted you so unceremoniously, my dear Ernestine," Herminie remarked to her friend. "It was a letter, and I had to send a verbal reply."
"Do pray go on with your story, Herminie," replied Ernestine. "You have no idea how deeply interested I am."
"And it is such a relief to me to tell you my troubles."
"Yes, I was sure it would be," responded Ernestine, with ingenuous tenderness.
"I was just telling you that I learned at Madame Herbaut's little entertainment that this young man's name was Gerald Auvernay. It was M.
Olivier who told me so, on introducing him to me."
"What! he knows M. Olivier?"
"They are intimate friends, for Gerald was a soldier in the same regiment as Olivier. On leaving the service, he entered the office of a notary, so he told me, but for some time past he had given up an employment which was so distasteful to him, and had found occupation on the fortifications under an officer of engineers he had known in Africa.
So you see, Ernestine, that Gerald's position and mine were identical, and free as he seemed to be, I was surely excusable for allowing myself to yield to a fatal fondness for him."
"But why fatal, Herminie?"
"Wait and you shall know all. Two days after our meeting at Madame Herbaut's, on my return from my lessons, I went out into the garden to which my landlord had kindly given me the entree. This garden, as you can see from the window, is separated from the street in the rear only by a hedge, and from the bench on which I had seated myself I saw Gerald pass. Instead of being handsomely dressed as on the evening before, he was clad in a gray blouse and a big straw hat. He gave a start of surprise on perceiving me, but far from seeming mortified at being seen in his working clothes, he bowed to me and, pausing, said gaily that he was just returning from his day's work, being engaged in superintending certain portions of the fortifications now in progress of construction at the end of the Rue de Monceau. 'An occupation which suits me much better than dull notary work,' he remarked. 'I am fairly well paid and I have a crowd of rather rough but very worthy men to superintend. I like it much better than copying stupid documents.'"