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Strange to say, Madame de Fondege did not protest, did not speak of her own house. She was too proud for that. Having once offered hospitality, she thought it would arouse suspicion if she insisted. So she contented herself with enumerating the arguments for and against the two propositions, remarking from time to time: "Come, you must decide! Don't wait until the last moment!"
And adding in a whisper: "This is your mother, young girl," he pushed the astonished Marguerite into the room, closed the door, and returned to Madame de Fondege. Paler than her white muslin wrapper, the Baroness Trigault sprang from her chair.
Was there any one in the world sufficiently interested in her welfare, or loving her enough, to address her in this style? She quickly turned the sheet to see the signature; and when her eyes fell on it she turned pale. "Ah!" she exclaimed, involuntarily, "ah! ah!" The letter was signed: "Athenais de Fondege." It had been written by the General's wife.
And believe, my dear count, in the absolute devotion of your old comrade, Mademoiselle Marguerite was thunderstruck. "Who can have furnished you with these particulars?" she inquired. "The Marquis de Valorsay, my dearest; and I will explain how he was enabled to do so. M. de Fondege wrote the address of his 'old comrade' on this letter, which was folded and sealed, but not enclosed in an envelope.
Still, her love of finery had never carried her so far as shop-lifting, or induced her to part with her honor for gewgaws irregularities which are so common nowadays, even among wives and mothers of families, that people are no longer astonished to hear of them. No Madame de Fondege was a faithful wife, in the strict and legal sense of the word. But how she revenged herself!
Secondly, she remained for more than an hour yesterday evening in the drawing-room with the General's son, Lieutenant Gustave, and, on parting, they shook hands like a couple of friends, and said, 'It is agreed." "And is that all?" "One moment and you'll see. This morning Mademoiselle went out with Madame de Fondege to call on the Baroness Trigault.
He paused, passed his forefinger three or four times between his collar and his neck, and then, in a half-strangled voice, he added: "Mademoiselle Marguerite, I have the honor to ask for your hand in marriage on behalf of Lieutenant Gustave de Fondege, my son."
Crimson with anger to the very roots of her coarse, sandy hair amazed to see her husband deport himself in this style, and almost suffocated by the necessity of restraining her wrath, Madame de Fondege was heroic enough to smile, though her eyes flashed ominously. But the General was not at all dismayed.
Madame de Fondege was, as a rule, most imperious, envious, and spiteful in disposition; but on coming to the Hotel de Chalusse she had provided herself with any amount of sweetness and sensibility, and when she entered the room, she held her handkerchief to her lips as if to stifle her sobs.
So, on recognizing Madame de Fondege through the carriage window, he hastened forward with outstretched hand to assist her in alighting. "Did you come to take breakfast with us?" he asked. "That would be a most delightful " The remainder of the sentence died unuttered upon his lips. His face became crimson, and the cigar he was holding slipped from his fingers.
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