Chapter XXVII: Avowals.--The Proposal

After travelling about for three years in quest of riches, and finding in all lands the same vices, the same passions, the same folly,--when one returns home even poorer than one went away, how delicious it is to wake beneath a hospitable roof, with faithful friends whom one's evil fortune has not changed, and who are made happy by one's return! It is the harbor after a gale; it is the clear sky after a storm; it is the gleam of dawn after a long night.

Such was Auguste's waking; in his eyes the cottage was a palace, aye, better than a palace, since it held Denise and Coco. He rose, and after revelling for a few moments in the pure air of the garden, he turned his attention to his costume. Not with impunity does one live under the same roof with a lovely girl whom one has once loved, and still loves, although resolved to be nothing more than her friend. Moreover, it is quite natural to try to recover some of one's former attractions, after making one's appearance in the costume of an impoverished wayfarer.

In a short time, the razor had disposed of the beard. But Auguste's modest portmanteau contained only a coat, a waistcoat and almost no linen. He was inspecting it with a dejected air when there came a soft tap at his door and he heard Coco's voice:

"It's me, my kind friend."

Auguste opened the door to the child, who had a large bundle which he placed on the bed.

"What's all this, my friend?" queried Auguste, after he had kissed the little fellow.

"I don't know, my kind friend; it was Denise that told me to bring it to you. Good-bye; I'm going to feed my goat. You didn't see her last night; hurry up and dress yourself and come and say good-morning to her."

When the child had gone, Auguste opened the package, which contained a supply of linen and a paper on which was written:

"Coco gives you this; remember that he didn't refuse your gifts a long time ago."

"Dear Denise!" said Auguste; "how thoughtful of her! And to think of her being able to get them so early! She can't have slept at all--she must have ransacked the village already. If this is the way her friendship works, what would happen if one had her love!"

However, it was a bitter thing to Auguste to accept the girl's gifts; when one is in the habit of giving, it is hard to make up one's mind to receive. He overcame at last the feeling of pride that caused him to hesitate; he realized that it would hurt Denise if he refused, and that consideration decided him to accept her presents.

After completing his toilet, Auguste went into the garden and found Denise there. She came to meet him with the most engaging smile, and a look in which there was something more than friendship. Coco ran to Auguste and said:

"Ah! I know you now--this is the way you used to look."

"Thanks to you, Denise!" said Dalville in an undertone.

But the girl put her hand over his mouth, and he seized the hand and pressed it to his heart without more words. They showed him the cottage, the garden, every nook and corner, and Denise said to him at every step:

"Do you like this? Are you satisfied with the use I have made of your money?"

"What surprises me," said Auguste, "is that you can build a house with three thousand francs."

"In the first place, monsieur, we had the land; and then, you see, the cottage has only four rooms and attics above."

"But that pretty summer-house where I slept last night?"

"Oh! I had that built after my poor aunt's death. I preferred to live here than in our house. I felt as if I weren't so far away from you."

These words were accompanied by another sweet smile; all of which was not calculated to induce Auguste to look upon the lovely girl as his sister simply.

After breakfast they sat in the shade of a clump of lilacs. They talked a long while, having so much to say to each other after a long separation. The girl did not weary of listening to Auguste's stories of his travels. When he mentioned Bertrand's name, a sigh escaped him; whereupon Denise took his hand and pressed it affectionately, to give him to understand that he still had friends. He continued his story, but her hand remained in his, and she did not think of withdrawing it.

Engrossed by the pleasure of being with Denise, of exchanging soft glances with her, it did not seem to occur to Auguste that he must look upon her only with a friend's eyes. Nor did Denise seek to conceal the state of her feelings from him; on the contrary, she wished him to read in the lowest depths of her heart.

Several days passed swiftly. In the morning Auguste and Denise went to walk in the country. Coco always went with them, but his presence did not incommode them; for their eyes alone betrayed their feelings, and an innocent heart has no fear of witnesses. At night, when they were together in the cottage, the hours flew more swiftly still, and when they separated, they exchanged a loving: "Until to-morrow."

Auguste could not conceal from himself the fact that he adored Denise, and, being persuaded that she had no other feeling than friendship for him, he said to himself:

"This girl will end by turning my head. But she loves me only as a brother; she doesn't know how dangerous to my repose her affectionate glances and caresses are. I must leave her and return to Paris; a few days more and I shan't have strength to do it."

On her side Denise said to herself:

"Great heaven! doesn't he see that I love him? I do all that I can to show him! Is it that he doesn't choose to understand me? In that case I must just tell him how it is; and now that he has nothing at all and I have a little money, perhaps he'll not despise the little village girl."

Although he continued to tell himself that he must go away from Denise, Auguste did not leave the cottage, where he was so comfortable. But one evening when he was alone with her, he inquired:

"How does it happen, Denise, that you are not married?"

"Because I didn't choose to marry, monsieur!" she replied, raising her lovely eyes to his.

"But you were in love with someone, surely? You told me so. What obstacle has prevented you from marrying the object of your choice?"

Denise blushed and no longer dared to look at Auguste. At last she faltered in a tremulous voice:

"I--I lied that time, monsieur."

"How so, Denise?"

"You know, that time in my aunt's garden, when I told you that I had a sweetheart, it was because Monsieur Bertrand had told me that you didn't come to the village for fear of falling in love with me; and I longed so to see you that that was why I said I didn't love you."

"Dear Denise! is it possible?" cried Auguste, throwing his arms about her.

"Yes, that's the truth; and since then I've been awfully unhappy because I told you that; for you didn't come again, and you thought I loved somebody else."

Auguste gazed lovingly at the girl; but soon his brow grew dark; he fixed his eyes on the ground and seemed to be meditating deeply. Amazed by his silence and his depression, she drew nearer to him and said timidly:

"Are you angry because I love you?"

"Ah! Denise, it might once have made me perfectly happy--but now----"

"Well--now?"

Auguste made no reply; and after a moment she asked him:

"Will you marry me, monsieur?"

"Marry you, Denise?"

"Yes; formerly I wouldn't have dared to hope for such a thing, for you were very rich, and you couldn't have taken a village girl for your wife. But you have lost the fortune which kept you in fashionable society. You say every day that you no longer care for the fine ladies, the coquettes, who deceived you.--Now, if you want me, I am yours. I haven't a great fortune, but I have enough for us two; and I will never deceive you!"

Auguste was deeply moved by Denise's affecting offer; but he contented himself with pressing her hand and heaving a profound sigh. She impatiently awaited his reply; his silence made her think that her proposal had offended him; she walked away from him, and, unable to restrain her tears, faltered:

"I made you angry by proposing that you should marry me. Forgive me, monsieur; I forgot that I am only a peasant. I thought that you loved me."

"Ah! I love you, Denise, more than I ever loved! my feeling for you is a hundred times sweeter and fonder than the passions which have led me into so many follies. You are only a peasant, you say! but your virtues and your good qualities make you the equal of a great lady, even though you had not in addition such lovely features, such charming ways, and a melting voice that goes to one's very heart!"

"You love me! Oh! how happy I am! Then you will take me for your wife?"

Auguste gazed tenderly at her, and said at last:

"You shall have my reply to-morrow, Denise."

"To-morrow! Why not at once? Do you need to reflect about it?"

The girl said no more. During the rest of the evening Auguste seemed more affectionate, more in love than ever; his eyes, which were constantly fixed on Denise, expressed the most genuine passion, and when he left her, to return to his summer-house, he pressed her to his heart and seemed unable to tear himself from her arms. He left her at last, and Denise said to herself:

"Oh! he will certainly marry me! but why not say so at once?"

She did not sleep; she was too excited to close her eyes. In default of dreams, her imagination conjured up a thousand delightful pictures: she saw herself the chosen companion of the man she loved; she passed the rest of her days with him. So charming a future is surely not inferior to the pleasantest dreams, and we do not try to sleep when we possess the reality of happiness.

Day broke at last. Denise rose and spent a longer time than usual at her toilet. That is a venial offence when a woman knows that she is going into the presence of the man whom she wishes to call her husband. She left her room and went into the garden, where she found Auguste every morning; but he was not there, and the girl was surprised that he was still asleep; for she thought that he must have been unable to sleep, like herself, and that he would be in haste to see her.

She seated herself in the shrubbery where they had talked the night before. She could see the summer-house from there, and she waited impatiently for Auguste to come out. But the door did not open, and at last Coco, whom Denise had not yet seen, came running toward her with a letter in his hand.

"Here, my dear Denise, my kind friend gave me this for you," he said, holding out the letter.

"Your kind friend! Why, have you seen Monsieur Auguste already?"

"Oh, yes! he was up before sunrise."

"Where is he now, then?"

"He kissed me and then he went away; I don't know where he went."

Denise had a presentiment of evil; she opened the letter with a trembling hand and read:

"I love you, my dear Denise; do not doubt my love; but shall I join
my poverty to your comfort, after I have lost my money by my own
fault? shall I bestow on you the hand of a man who has not even any
knowledge of the agricultural labors by which your little property
can be made profitable? No, Denise, I am not worthy to be your
husband, I cannot make up my mind to live at the expense of a woman
who would sacrifice a happy future for me. Doubtless your kind
heart led you to offer me your hand; perhaps you even pretended to
love me so as to induce me to accept your generous offer; but I
must not do it. Adieu, Denise! If I should become rich again, I
shall fly to you; but I have no hope of it now. Adieu! I shall come
to see you when I have strength enough to look upon you as my
sister."

The girl turned deadly pale and dropped the letter, crying:

"He doesn't believe in my love!"

"Well, where's my kind friend? Did he write you where he's gone?"

"Alas! he has abandoned us, he has run away from us, he thinks we don't love him!"

Denise burst into tears; the child ran to her arms and she pressed him to her heart, sobbing:

"Oh! I shall die of grief, and you must tell him that he's the cause of it; then perhaps he'll believe that I loved him!"