Pride Part 73

"ERNESTINE."

After she had sealed this note, Mlle. de Beaumesnil said to her governess:

"I wish you to post this letter yourself, my dear Laine."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"How shall I manage to get out alone with Madame Laine day after to-morrow?" Ernestine said to herself. "I have no idea, but my heart tells me that I shall see Herminie again!"

CHAPTER V.

A CONSUMING FEVER OF LOVE.

On the morning of the same day that mademoiselle had appointed for her visit to Herminie, Gerald de Senneterre was having a long conversation with Olivier.

The two young men were sitting under the little arbour of which Commander Bernard was so fond.

The young duke's face was extremely pale and agitated. In fact, he seemed a prey to the deepest anxiety and distress.

"So you will see her, my dear Olivier," he was saying to his friend.

"At once. I wrote to her last evening requesting an interview. She has not answered my note, so she consents."

"Then in an hour my fate will be decided," groaned Gerald.

"I am forced to admit that I think this a very serious matter," said Olivier. "You know, even better than I do, how proud this young girl is, and that which would be our greatest chance of success with any one else will be almost sure to have an exactly opposite effect in her case.

Still, we will not despair."

"But, Olivier, if I should be obliged to give her up, I don't know how I could bear it!" exclaimed Gerald, hoa.r.s.ely. "I should kill myself, I believe!"

"Gerald! Gerald!"

"Yes, I admit it. I love her to distraction. I never believed before that even the most impa.s.sioned love could attain such a degree of intensity. My love is a consuming fever,--a fixed idea that absorbs me utterly. You know Herminie--"

"Yes, and I know that a more n.o.ble and beautiful creature never lived."

"Olivier, I am the most miserable of men!" exclaimed Gerald, burying his face in his hands.

"Come, come, Gerald, don't give way so. You can rely upon me. I believe, too, that you can trust her. Does she not love you as much as you love her? So don't be despondent. On the contrary, hope, and if, unfortunately--"

"But I tell you that I can not and will not live without her."

There was such evident sincerity in the words, as well as such pa.s.sionate resolve, that Olivier shuddered, for he knew what an indomitable will his former comrade possessed.

"Gerald," he said, with deep emotion, "again I tell you that you should not despair. Wait here until my return."

"You are right," said Gerald, pa.s.sing his hand across his fevered brow.

"I will wait for you."

Olivier, unwilling to leave his friend in such a despondent mood, continued:

"I forgot to tell you that I informed my uncle of your intentions in regard to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and they have his unqualified approval.

'Such conduct is worthy of him,' he said to me, so day after to-morrow, Gerald--"

"Day after to-morrow!" exclaimed the young duke, bitterly and impatiently. "I am not thinking of anything so far off. It is as much as I can do to see my way from hour to hour."

"But, Gerald, it is a duty you have to perform."

"Don't talk to me about anything but Herminie. I am utterly indifferent to everything else. What are these so-called duties and obligations to me when I am in torture?"

"You do not realise what you are saying."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you do not."

"Olivier!"

"Oh, you may rebel as much as you please, but I tell you that your conduct, now as ever, shall be that of a man of honour. You will go to this ball to meet Mlle. de Beaumesnil."

"I'll be d---- d if I will. I am at liberty to do as I please, I think, monsieur."

"No, Gerald, you are not at liberty to do anything that is dishonest or dishonourable."

"Do you know that what you are saying--" began the young duke, pale with anger; but seeing the expression of sorrowful astonishment on Olivier's features, Gerald became ashamed of his outburst, and, extending his hand to his friend, he said, in an almost beseeching voice:

"Forgive me, Olivier, forgive me! To think that almost at the very moment that you are undertaking the gravest and most delicate mission for me, I should so far forget myself--"

"Come, come, you needn't go to making excuses," said Olivier, preventing his friend from continuing by affectionately pressing his hand.

"You must have compa.s.sion on me, Olivier," said Gerald, despondently. "I really believe I must be mad."

The conversation was here interrupted by the sudden arrival of Madame Barbancon, who rushed into the arbour, crying:

"Oh, M. Olivier, M. Olivier!"

"What is the matter, Madame Barbancon?"

"The commander!"

"Well?"

"He has gone out!"