Letters of Two Brides

"You flatter yourself," I said, with a smile, "for I am every inch

your child!" "In short," he went on, "one must be logical. You can't have the end

without the means, and it is our duty to set an example to others.

From all this I deduce that you ought not to have money of your own

till your younger brother is provided for, and I want to employ the

whole of your inheritance in purchasing an estate for him to go with

the title." "But," I said, "you won't interfere with my living in my own fashion

and enjoying life if I leave you my fortune?"

"Provided," he replied, "that your view of life does not conflict with

the family honor, reputation, and, I may add, glory."

"Come, come," I cried, "what has become of my excellent judgment?"

"There is not in all France," he said with bitterness, "a man who

would take for wife a daughter of one of our noblest families without

a dowry and bestow one on her. If such a husband could be found, it

would be among the class of rich parvenus; on this point I belong to

the eleventh century."

"And I also," I said. "But why despair? Are there no aged peers?"

"You are an apt scholar, Louise!" he exclaimed.

Then he left me, smiling and kissing my hand.

I received your letter this very morning, and it led me to contemplate

that abyss into which you say that I may fall. A voice within seemed

to utter the same warning. So I took my precautions. Henarez, my dear,

dares to look at me, and his eyes are disquieting. They inspire me

with what I can only call an unreasoning dread. Such a man ought no

more to be looked at than a frog; he is ugly and fascinating.

For two days I have been hesitating whether to tell my father

point-blank that I want no more Spanish lessons and have Henarez sent

about his business. But in spite of all my brave resolutions, I feel

that the horrible sensation which comes over me when I see that man

has become necessary to me. I say to myself, "Once more, and then I

will speak." His voice, my dear, is sweetly thrilling; his speaking is just like la

Fodor's singing. His manners are simple, entirely free from

affectation. And what teeth!

Just now, as he was leaving, he seemed to divine the interest I take

in him, and made a gesture--oh! most respectfully--as though to take

my hand and kiss it; then checked himself, apparently terrified at his

own boldness and the chasm he had been on the point of bridging. There

was the merest suggestion of all this, but I understood it and smiled,

for nothing is more pathetic than to see the frank impulse of an

inferior checking itself abashed. The love of a plebeian for a girl of

noble birth implies such courage!