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But she said nothing then of the long, restless, half-happy, half-wretched time when she had loved him and never even hoped he would care for her. There was time for all that. There were going to be long, joyous years together, years of being a "real woman," as she had so passionately wished to be that day in the library. She would never again need to envy any woman happiness or love or laughter.
He said to Mme. de Lorcy: "If she refuse me, I shall no longer be able to see her; and so long as I can see her, I am only half-wretched." It was Mme. de Lorcy who forced him to draw his sword and open the campaign, in which she was to act as second. This campaign had not been a successful one. Deeply wounded at the refusal, which she had in vain attempted to prevent, she was ready to force Mlle.
There may be a day when, oh, I shall tell him everything; how wretched I was when he did not speak to me; how broken-hearted when I heard his voice with Mary; how fluttered, and half-happy, and half-wretched when I found that I was to have that long walk with him; and then how I determined to wait. I will tell him all, perhaps, some day. Good-night, dear, dear Patty.
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