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"Was the girl's information correct, Count?" asked he. "How are the Duke and M. Norbert, for of course you have seen them both?" "M. Norbert is too much agitated by the sad event to see any one." "Of course that was to be looked for," returned the wily Counsellor; "for the seizure was terribly sudden." M. de Puymandour was too much occupied with his own thoughts to spare much pity for Norbert.
He took all the preparations for the ceremony into his own hands, for he had determined that everything should be conducted on a scale of unparalleled magnificence. The Chateau was refurnished, and all the carriages repainted and varnished, while the Champdoce and the Puymandour arms were quartered together on their panels.
"I like the Viscount," continued M. de Puymandour, "while Mademoiselle Diana is a charming girl. She is very handsome, and, I believe, has many talents; and she is a good model for you to copy, Marie, as you are so soon to become a duchess." When he got upon his favorite hobby, it was very difficult to check M. de Puymandour.
It was a slight relief when M. de Puymandour proposed a walk; but this was a rare occurrence, for that gentleman usually declared that he never had a moment's leisure. Never had he seemed so gay and busy since the approaching marriage of his daughter had been the theme of every tongue.
Norbert, too, was going to Paris with his wife; and M. de Puymandour was going about saying that his daughter, the Duchess of Champdoce, would not return to this part of the country for some time to come. Diana drew a long breath of relief, for it seemed to her as if all the threatening clouds, which had darkened the horizon, were fast breaking up and drifting away.
But all these arrangements which had to be made had necessarily delayed the wedding. But it came at last; M. de Puymandour took absolute possession of him, and after the unhappy young man had passed a sleepless night, he was allowed no time for reflection.
"Pardon, father; pardon," cried Norbert, falling upon his knees. The Duke softly stretched out his hand. "I was mad with family pride," said he; "and God punished me. My son, I forgive you." Norbert's sobs broke the stillness of the chamber. "My son, I renounce my ideas," continued the Duke. "I do not desire you to wed Mademoiselle de Puymandour if you feel that you cannot love her."
M. de Puymandour stood perfectly aghast. "It is always the way in this world," Daumon philosophically said. "In the midst of life we are in death!" "Good morning, Counsellor," said De Puymandour; "I must try and find out something more about this." Breathless, and with his mind filled with anxiety, he hurried on.
He could look at the laborers in the fields or the horses in the stables, but five minutes afterwards he had no recollection of what he heard or saw. The sudden loss of his father's aid would have caused Norbert much embarrassment had it not been for the shrewdness and sagacity of M. de Puymandour, who had assisted him greatly.
"Father," he once more commenced, "I have no wish to go to Poitiers to-morrow." "What are you saying? What in heaven's name do you mean?" "I mean that as I shall never love Mademoiselle de Puymandour, she will never be my wife." The Duke had never foreseen the chance of rebellion on the part of his son, and he could not bring his mind to receive such an unlooked-for event.
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