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Updated: May 23, 2025
In September, 1822, Aurore Dupin became Madame Dudevant, and shortly afterwards she and her husband established themselves at Nohant, there to settle down to quiet country life.
He will return in spring, again to press those delicate fingers, again to fold that fair form in his arms, again to speak those tender words that will sound all the sweeter after the long interval of silence. "Happy youth! happy girl! Light is the misery of a parting like yours! How easy to endure when compared with that violent separation which I have experienced! Aurore! Aurore!
Under other circumstances the manipulation of my wounds, for they now felt painful, might have caused me annoyance. It did not then. What I had just heard had produced a feeling within that neutralised the external pain, and I felt it not. I was really in mental agony. I burned with impatience to question Reigart about the affairs of the plantation, about Eugenie and Aurore.
For in the nature of things, and notwithstanding the amusing familiarity common between Creole ladies and the menial class, the unprotected little widow should have had a very serious errand to bring her to the voudou's house. "Palmyre," began the lady, in a sad tone. "Momselle Aurore." "I want you to help me."
Moreover, her grandmother, who had no intention that Aurore should become a nun, hastened to Paris and carried her back to Nohant. The girl was now sixteen, and her complicated nature began to make itself apparent. There was no one to control her, because her grandmother was confined to her own room.
I even halted awhile. There was a slight bend in the river-bank, and the road crossed this like a chord to its arc. The part cut off was a piece of waste a common and as there was no fence I forsook the road, and walked my horse out on the river-bank. There I drew up, but remained seated in my saddle. I endeavoured to sketch out some plan of action. What should I say to Eugenie? what to Aurore?
"I hear no more, Sir, Mademoiselle shall know " "A word, a word! one kiss, Aurore! on my knees, I beg " I heard the knocking of a pair of knees on the floor, followed by a struggling sound, and loud angry exclamations on the part of Aurore. This I considered to be my cue, and three steps brought me within the room, and within as many feet of the kneeling gallant.
Dark must it be to be darker than their proximate past. I glanced over the different groups, but my eyes rested not long upon them. A glance was enough to satisfy me that she was not there. There was no danger of mistaking any one of those forms or faces for that of Aurore. She was not there, Thank Heaven! I was spared the humiliation of seeing her in such a crowd!
A thousand hopes and fears hung suspended on the result of my interview with Eugenie Besancon. I actually looked forward to this interview with more anxiety than I had done but a few hours ago to that with Aurore! Perhaps, because I had less confidence in a favourable result. As early as etiquette would allow of a morning visit, I was in the saddle, and heading towards the plantation Besancon.
Aurore submitted indeed outwardly, but a spell of hardness and hopelessness was drawn around her young heart, which neither tears nor tenderness could break. The blow struck at the very roots of life and hope in her. Self-respect was wounded in its core. If the mother who bore her was vile, then she was vile also. All object in life seemed gone.
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