White Lies Part 36

"No! that was my own wickedness and spitefulness."

"Wickedness, spitefulness! they are not in your nature. It is all that wretch's doing."

Rose sighed, but she said nothing; for she saw that to excuse Camille would only make the jealous one more bitter against him.

"Will you deign to write to me at my new post? once a month? in answer to my letters?"

"Yes, dear. But you will ride over sometimes to see us."

"Oh, yes; but for some little time I shall not be able. The duties of a new post."

"Perhaps in a month--a fortnight?"

"Sooner perhaps; the moment I hear that man is out of the house."

Edouard went away, dogged and sad; Rose shut herself up in her room and had a good cry. In the afternoon Josephine came and remonstrated with her. "You have not walked with him at all to-day."

"No; you must pet him yourself for once. I hate the sight of him; it has made mischief between Edouard and me, my being so attentive to him.

Edouard is jealous, and I cannot wonder. After all, what right have I to mystify him who honors me with his affection?"

Then, being pressed with questions by Josephine, she related to her all that had pa.s.sed between Edouard and her, word for word.

"Poor Camille!" sighed Josephine the just.

"Oh, dear, yes! poor Camille! who has the power to make us all miserable, and who does it, and will go on doing it until he is happy himself."

"Ah! would to Heaven I could make him as happy as he deserves to be."

"You could easily make him much happier than that. And why not do it?"

"O Rose," said Josephine, shocked, "how can you advise me so?"

She then asked her if she thought it possible that Camille could be ignorant of her heart.

"Josephine," replied Rose, angrily, "these men are absurd: they believe only what they see. I have done what I can for you and Camille, but it is useless. Would you have him believe you love him, you must yourself be kind to him; and it would be a charitable action: you would make four unhappy people happy, or, at least, put them on the road; NOW they are off the road, and, by what I have seen to-day, I think, if we go on so much longer, it will be too late to try to return. Come, Josephine, for my sake! Let me go and tell him you will consent--to all our happinesses. There, the crime is mine." And she ran off in spite of Josephine's faint and hypocritical entreaties. She returns the next minute looking all aghast. "It is too late," said she. "He is going away. I am sure he is, for he is packing up his things to go. I spied through the old place and saw him. He was sighing like a furnace as he strapped his portmanteau. I hate him, of course, but I was sorry for him. I could not help being. He sighed so all the time, piteously."

Josephine turned pale, and lifted her hands in surprise and dismay.

"Depend on it, Josephine, we are wrong," said Rose, firmly: "these wretches will not stand our nonsense above a certain time: they are not such fools. We are mismanaging: one gone, the other going; both losing faith in us."

Josephine's color returned to her cheek, and then mounted high.

Presently she smiled, a smile full of conscious power and furtive complacency, and said quietly, "He will not go."

Rose was pleased, but not surprised, to hear her sister speak so confidently, for she knew her power over Camille. "That is right," said she, "go to him, and say two honest words: 'I bid you stay.'"

"O Rose! no!"

"Poltroon! You know he would go down on his knees, and stay directly."

"No: I should blush all my life before you and him. I COULD not. I should let him go sooner, almost. Oh, no! I will never ask a man to stay who wishes to leave me. But just you go to him, and say Madame Raynal is going to take a little walk: will he do her the honor to be her companion? Not a word more, if you love me."

"I'll go. Hypocrite!"

Josephine received Camille with a bright smile. She seemed in unusually good spirits, and overflowing with kindness and innocent affection. On this his high gloomy brow relaxed, and all his prospects brightened as by magic. Then she communicated to him a number of little plans for next week and the week after. Among the rest he was to go with her and Rose to Frejus. "Such a sweet place: I want to show it you. You will come?"

He hesitated a single moment: a moment of intense anxiety to the smiling Josephine.

"Yes! he would come: it was a great temptation, he saw so little of her."

"Well, you will see more of me now."

"Shall I see you every day--alone, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, if you wish it," replied Josephine, in an off-hand, indifferent way.

He seized her hand and devoured it with kisses. "Foolish thing!"

murmured she, looking down on him with ineffable tenderness. "Should I not be always with you if I consulted my inclination?--let me go."

"No! consult your inclination a little longer."

"Must I?"

"Yes; that shall be your punishment."

"For what? What have I done?" asked she with an air of great innocence.

"You have made me happy, me who adore you," was the evasive reply.

Josephine came in from her walk with a high color and beaming eyes, and screamed, "Run, Rose!"

On this concise, and to us not very clear instruction, Rose slipped up the secret stair. She saw Camille come in and gravely unpack his little portmanteau, and dispose his things in the drawers with soldier-like neatness, and hum an agreeable march. She came and told Josephine.

"Ah!" said Josephine with a little sigh of pleasure, and a gentle triumph in her eyes.

She had not only got her desire, but had arrived at it her way,--woman's way, round about.

This adroit benevolence led to more than she bargained for. She and Camille were now together every day: and their hearts, being under restraint in public, melted together all the more in their stolen interviews.

At the third delicious interview the modest Camille begged Josephine to be his wife directly.

Have you noticed those half tame deer that come up to you in a park so lovingly, with great tender eyes, and, being now almost within reach, stop short, and with bodies fixed like statues on pedestals, crane out their graceful necks for sugar, or bread, or a chestnut, or a pocket-handkerchief? Do but offer to put your hand upon them, away they bound that moment twenty yards, and then stand quite still, and look at your hand and you, with great inquiring, suspicious, tender eyes.

So Josephine started at Camille's audacious proposal. "Never mention such a thing to me again: or--or, I will not walk with you any more:"

then she thrilled with pleasure at the obnoxious idea, "she Camille's wife!" and colored all over--with rage, Camille thought. He promised submissively not to renew the topic: no more he did till next day.

Josephine had spent nearly the whole interval in thinking of it; so she was prepared to put him down by calm reasons. She proceeded to do so, gently, but firmly.

Lo and behold! what does he do, but meets her with just as many reasons, and just as calm ones: and urges them gently, but firmly.