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He is afraid of altering her moral beauty by taking her out of the shame where she lives in perfect simplicity and admirable destitution." Le Menil shrugged his shoulders. "But that Choulette is crazy, and Paul Vence has no right to tell you such stories. I am not austere, assuredly; but there are immoralities that disgust me." They were walking at random. She fell into a dream.
He talked to me of the yearnings of his heart and he looked at me with alarming tenderness. And from time to time he gazed, with sighs, at the portrait of the Duc d'Orleans. I said to him: 'Monsieur Garain, you are making a mistake. It is my sister-in-law who is an Orleanist. I am not. At this moment Monsieur Le Menil came to escort me to the buffet. He paid great compliments to my horses!
I was much surprised to meet him at Florence at the moment of his departure." She looked at Dechartre, who affected not to listen. "I know that gentleman," said Miss Bell. "It is Monsieur Le Menil. I dined with him twice at Madame Martin's, and he talked to me very well. He said he liked football; that he introduced the game in France, and that now football is quite the fashion.
I was much surprised to meet him at Florence at the moment of his departure." She looked at Dechartre, who affected not to listen. "I know that gentleman," said Miss Bell. "It is Monsieur Le Menil. I dined with him twice at Madame Martin's, and he talked to me very well. He said he liked football; that he introduced the game in France, and that now football is quite the fashion.
He talked to me of the yearnings of his heart and he looked at me with alarming tenderness. And from time to time he gazed, with sighs, at the portrait of the Duc d'Orleans. I said to him: 'Monsieur Garain, you are making a mistake. It is my sister-in-law who is an Orleanist. I am not. At this moment Monsieur Le Menil came to escort me to the buffet. He paid great compliments to my horses!
She raised toward him her eyes, which resembled bits of blue sky full of mingled sun and rain. "Well, I may say this to you: I never have felt that I lived except with you." When she returned to Fiesole, she found a brief and threatening letter from Le Menil. He could not understand, her prolonged absence, her silence. If she did not announce at once her return, he would go to Florence for her.
As she finished reading that letter, Therese thought: "A word thrown haphazard has placed him in that condition, a word has made him despairing and mad." She tried to think who might be the wretched fellow who could have talked in that way. She suspected two or three young men whom Le Menil had introduced to her once, warning her not to trust them.
Le Menil, in the anteroom, took Madame Martin's cloak, and, while he held it unfolded, she traversed the box, the anteroom, and stopped before the mirror of the half-open door. He placed on her bare shoulders the cape of red velvet embroidered with gold and lined with ermine, and said, in a low tone, but distinctly: "Therese, I love you. Remember what I asked you the day before yesterday.
Therese half turned her head and saw in the shadow Le Menil, who was bowing to her with his brusque suppleness. "Transmit, I pray you, Madame, my congratulations to your husband." He complimented her on her fine appearance. He spoke to Miss Bell a few courteous and precise words. Therese listened anxiously, her mouth half open in the painful effort to say insignificant things in reply.
"A singular letter," continued Montessuy. "Le Menil will not come to Joinville. He has bought the yacht Rosebud. He is on the Mediterranean, and can not live except on the water. It is a pity. He is the only one who knows how to manage a hunt."
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