Chapter XIX: Love and Mystery

After the vagabond’s visit, Isaure was sad and pensive; what the man had said to her concerning Alfred and Edouard caused the girl to reflect upon her situation. She thought that she had done wrong to talk to the two young men every morning; but could she prevent them from coming into the valley and resting in her cottage? They manifested such an affectionate friendliness for her! And they had long since ceased to talk of love to her. Once in a while, Alfred had tried to kiss her; but is it so rare a thing to see a peasant steal a kiss from a girl in the country? It is true that Edouard looked at her very affectionately, that he sighed when he shook her hand; but did all that prove that he was in love with a simple peasant girl?

The evening passed in such reflections. At the faintest sound outside, Isaure listened intently; she dreaded a visit from the stranger; that man aroused in her a sensation which she could not define; she felt that he lacked those things which ordinarily arouse one’s interest in an unfortunate person; she had a feeling now of fear in her lonely house; her glances as she looked about were wanting in the usual confidence; the darkness caused her an indefinable terror. Several times she went up to the topmost chamber in the cottage, and opening the window which looked toward the White House, gazed long and earnestly at the building, upon which the moon cast a pale light.

After passing several hours at the window, Isaure retired; then at daybreak she drove her goats to the mountain as usual, saying to herself:

"They will come to-day! Shall I say anything to them about what that stranger said to me? No, I must not; he told me that these gentlemen love me; as if young men from the city could love a girl from the mountains! Oh, no! it was only in jest that Monsieur Alfred pretended to be in love with me; and Monsieur Edouard? Ah! he has never told me that he loved me!"

But the hour at which the young men usually came to the valley had long since passed and they had not appeared. Isaure gazed very long and often at the road by which they always came, and she remained later than usual upon the mountain; at last she returned sadly to her cottage, and there continued to wait the coming of those who manifested so much friendship for her.

"They will not come," said the girl to herself, looking out of the door. "No, they will not come to-day, and perhaps not to-morrow either. I ought not to be disappointed, since it is wrong to talk with those gentlemen every day."

And yet a tear fell from the girl’s eyes; it seemed to her that she was once more utterly deserted.

"Perhaps they have left this part of the country!" she said to herself. "Left without bidding me good-by; he especially, who seemed always so sorry to leave me! who smiled so sweetly at me! Why, then, did he accustom me to see him every day?"

The girl was right: why accustom people to happiness in order to inflict pain upon them afterward? That is what one should say to oneself before trying to beguile a heart. But at that time we think of almost anything else.

The day passed and the young men did not come. Isaure did all that she could to divert her thoughts; she went in and out of the house, she talked to her hens and her cow and to Vaillant; but, despite all her efforts, her heart was heavy; the time seemed to pass more slowly than usual, and she did not sleep the whole of the night.

Once more day broke. The girl was already up, and was about to leave her cottage to go to the mountain, when she heard a faint sound in the distance. It speedily drew nearer. Isaure stopped; hope and joy glistened in her eyes. Yes, it was certainly the gallop of a horse that she heard, and it came nearer and nearer. Isaure looked down the road; a young man was approaching at a fast gallop; she recognized him; it was he, he whom she was especially surprised not to see the day before. Is it possible for a woman to be mistaken when love is in question?

Edouard had not slept during the night following the fête, and he had risen before dawn and saddled a horse for himself. Alfred was asleep, and Edouard felt no desire to wake him; but it was a breach of their agreement to go without him to see Isaure; however, love makes one forget as many agreements as it forgets itself!

In a few moments Edouard had dismounted, fastened his horse near the cottage, and run to Isaure, who did not dream of concealing all the pleasure which his presence caused her.

"Here you are!" she said; "ah! I had already made up my mind that you would not come any more!"

"Not come any more! not see you any more, Isaure! Do you think that it would be possible for me to exist away from you?"

As he spoke, Edouard took the girl’s hands and pressed them fondly in his; then they sat down together at the foot of a tree, and gazed at each other for some time in silence. But one can speak so eloquently with the eyes!

"You did not come yesterday?" said the girl at last.

"No, it was impossible; there was company, a party, at the château at which we are staying! But how long the day seemed to me, amid all that noise, with those people for whom I care nothing, those pleasures in which I could take no part, because I was thinking of you, of you alone, with whom I am so happy!"

"The time seemed very long to me, too; I was bored. I looked very often at the road by which you come. You have accustomed me to seeing you; you have done wrong, for after all, you will not always remain in this region, and then I shall not see you any more, and it seems to me that I shall not be so happy as I used to be."

"Dear Isaure! But would it be to me or to Alfred that you would give the keenest regrets? To-day I have come without him, I am defying his anger, for I am determined to know at last what I may hope. Yes, yes, I love you, Isaure; I feel for you the most passionate, the most sincere love; I have tried for some time to fight against it; but I feel that it is impossible for me, I feel that this love is now a part of my existence. And why should I fear to give myself up to it? I am free, I am my own master; and if you love me, who can object to our union? But it is necessary that you should love me, that you should prefer me to Alfred. Oh! speak, confess to me frankly what is taking place in your heart. Isaure, you would not, you could not, deceive me."

Isaure timidly cast down her eyes, and withdrew her hand from Edouard’s, faltering:

"So it is true! You do love me? He did not deceive me?"

"Who, pray?"

"That poor man--you know, that stranger who is wandering about our mountains."

"Have you seen him?"

"Yes, the day before yesterday, after you had gone, he came into my house. I asked him to rest, and he remained quite a long time. He kept his eyes fixed on me all the time, and with such a strange expression! Ah! it was not like you! For, instead of giving me pleasure, it frightened me."

"Did that villain insult you?"

"No! oh, no! he simply said to me--what you yourself have just said--that it was love which brought you to me; and then he asked me which of you I preferred."

"Who has authorized him to question you concerning your most secret feelings? Ah! when I meet him again, I will chastise his insolence!"

"Oh! do not be angry with him, I beg you; the man is unfortunate; he says that all the world has deserted him! You must not make him any unhappier. No doubt he questioned me for his own amusement, but he did not insist when he saw that I did not like it. You will not say anything to him, will you?"

"How kind-hearted you are! But you are right, we must forget that man. Ah, dear Isaure, you will answer me; you will let me read your heart?"

"What do you want me to say to you?"

"Which do you prefer, Alfred or me?"

"Oh, dear! I love to see you both."

"Both equally?"

The girl blushed; she did not know how to express what she felt. Edouard approached her, gently put his arm about her waist and said to her tenderly:

"If Alfred should not come to see you again, would you be very much disappointed?"

"Why, I should think of him sometimes,--we would talk together about him; that is all."

"And suppose it were I who did not come again--would you console yourself in the same way by talking with him?"

"Oh! never, never!" cried the girl, in a tone that came from her heart.

"Dear Isaure! then it is I whom you love with love!"

Isaure softly raised her beautiful blue eyes to Edouard’s face; her expression, in which her whole soul was depicted, left no possible doubt in his mind who was master of her heart. In his intoxication, Edouard embraced her and imprinted a kiss on her lips. Instantly they heard a mocking laugh behind them.

The lovers turned their heads, but they saw no one.

"Didn’t you hear something?" asked Isaure anxiously.

"Yes, I thought--but I see no one about. Ah! what do we care for the world? What is the whole universe to me? You love me, dear Isaure! That assurance is perfect bliss to me! You love me, you are an orphan, you are dependent upon nobody; I too am my own master, and I shall be your husband! Yes, I shall be deemed worthy of so many charms, of such perfect innocence! Ah! I have known society sufficiently to be sure I could never find there anyone to be compared with you, and besides, your education and your manners are not those of a peasant; if I should desire to present you in society, you would be its brightest ornament. But no, we will live apart, for each other; to make us happy we shall have no need of those noisy dissipations of which you know nothing. My fortune is more than sufficient to satisfy all our wishes. I will buy a house in some lovely country district; I shall take delight in teaching you music and drawing myself, in reading with you those famous authors who enlighten our minds and rejoice our hearts; and if my inclination for letters, for the stage, calls me sometimes to Paris, I shall return to your arms to seek repose from the fatigues of the city. Ah! This prospect promises me the most blissful of lives; tell me that it will make you happy, too!"

For some moments past, while listening to Edouard, Isaure had become pensive, and her eyes no longer bore the expression of pleasure which had animated them; it seemed that her mind had been invaded by melancholy memories and new reflections; Edouard noticed this change, for the girl’s slightest feelings were expressed at once upon her features.

"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Are you angry that I have read your heart, that I know that you love me?"

"Oh, no, it isn’t that," replied the girl, with a sigh. "Why should I hide from you what I feel? One should always say what one thinks, should not one?"

"Yes, always."

"But perhaps I have done wrong to love you! I ought first to have found out--However, I did not try to resist--what I felt when I saw you was such perfect bliss!"

"Well, Isaure, why these regrets now that I swear to love you all my life, and propose to make you my wife?"

"Your wife!" replied the girl sadly, glancing at the White House. "Ah, yes! I should be very happy then; but perhaps it is not possible!"

"Why not? Aren’t you an orphan, alone on earth, since you lost the good people who adopted you?"

Isaure did not reply for some time, but at last she said, lowering her eyes:

"Yes, I am an orphan, I have no parents."

"Well! Who could interpose any obstacle to our happiness? Who could prevent you from being mine, from never parting from me any more?"

Isaure seemed deeply agitated; after glancing about her with an expression of dread, she put out her hand, pointed to the White House, and said to Edouard in a very low tone:

"I can never go away from that house."

Edouard was thunderstruck; he gazed in amazement at the White House, to which she pointed, then turned his eyes anxiously upon the girl again; he seemed to await some further explanation. But Isaure said no more.

"What!" said Edouard at last, "you can never go away from that deserted house? Pray, what powerful reason compels you to remain near that house?"

"I cannot tell," replied Isaure, under her breath.

"What is this mystery, this obstacle which you conceal from me? You have secrets from me, when I propose to devote my life to you, to unite myself to you by indissoluble bonds! Oh! speak, I implore you, conceal nothing from me!"

"I cannot speak. Pray, forgive me for causing you pain! If it rested only with me----"

"Dear Isaure! is it some promise, some oath that you gave your adopted mother? Perhaps she ordered you never to leave these mountains. But reflect that, if your parents were alive, they could not disapprove of my love! This house at which you point so mysteriously has long been uninhabited; it does not belong to you, because if I am to believe what I have been told, your adopted father sold it shortly after taking you into his family; and you cannot go away from it, you say! Come, confess that there is underneath all this some absurd, inconsiderate promise. Tell me the whole story, and I will soon satisfy you that you are entirely at liberty to dispose of your future."

"At liberty to dispose of my future!" replied the girl earnestly; "oh, no! I am not!"

"Why, in whose power are you then?" cried Edouard; "who can have any authority over you?"

Isaure looked down and made no reply. Edouard’s brow darkened; a thousand suspicions sprang up in his mind; the love which gleamed in his eyes gave place to distrust and anger. He rose, walked away from the girl, who remained seated at the foot of the tree, then said at last in a tone which he tried to make indifferent.

"Well, mademoiselle, since you do not deem me worthy of your confidence, I will not presume to ask you any more questions. I thought that I had your love, I hoped to make you happy; I was mistaken; I will try to forget all my plans!"

The girl said nothing. Edouard walked still farther away; but surprised by her silence, he turned to look at her once more. Isaure’s pretty face was bathed in the tears which flowed freely from her eyes. At that sight, Edouard was soon by her side; he threw himself at her feet, and covered her hands with kisses, crying:

"You are weeping! and it is I who am the cause of it! Oh! forgive me, dear Isaure; pardon my unjust suspicions!"

"You think that I do not love you!" said the girl, sobbing.

"I have grieved you! Ah! am I not too fortunate to have won your love? How I repent having caused your tears to flow! Hereafter I will not seek to know your secrets, I will not ask you any more questions. You love me! What more can I ask?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Isaure, while a smile appeared beneath her tears, "I shall always love you, for I do not think that it is possible to change. Forgive me for not telling you everything that concerns me. Ah! I would like to! but the secret does not belong to me. Some day perhaps I shall have no more secrets from you; and before long, no doubt, I shall know whether I can be your wife, whether I may be permitted to go with you whereever you go. As for my heart, it is yours; you know very well that I cannot take it away from you again."

The sweet child pressed Edouard’s hand lovingly, and had no hesitation in showing him all the pleasure it gave her to love him; but it did not occur to Edouard to abuse her confidence, for he too loved sincerely. The time passes quickly with two lovers who still have mutual pleasures to bestow; Edouard noticed at last that it was more than time that he should return to the château. He tore himself away with difficulty from her whom he loved, saying to her tenderly:

"Until to-morrow."

"Until to-morrow," said Isaure. "Remember that you have accustomed me to see you, that the time seems very long to me when I am not with you; and now that I have admitted that I love you, I would like to tell you so every day!"

Edouard took the girl’s hand, held it to his heart and said:

"May it be that before long I shall never be obliged to leave you!"

He remounted his horse, waved his hand to Isaure, who stood in her doorway, then rode back toward the château. But, in spite of himself, he could not help turning his head to look at the White House; and although he had promised the girl not to worry about what she concealed from him, and not to conceive unjust suspicions, he felt a weight at his heart as he gazed at that deserted house, and he said to himself with a sigh:

"What can be the reason that prevents her from going away from this place?"