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Three days later, the Duchesse de Grandlieu, who had not seen her daughter Sabine since the morning when this conference took place, went to the hotel du Guenic early in the day and found Calyste in his bath, with Sabine beside him working at some adornment for the future layette. "What has happened to you, my children?" asked the excellent duchess.
Let us walk on the jetty; I should like to see her." While Calyste was racking his brains to imagine what could have closed the doors of Les Touches to him, a scene was passing between Camille and Beatrix which was to have its influence on the events of the morrow. Calyste's last letter had stirred in Madame de Rochefide's heart emotions hitherto unknown to it.
"I wanted to get the better of that horrible woman I conquered for a time I am pregnant again and Calyste loves her so that I foresee a total abandonment. When she hears of it she will be furious. Ah! I suffer such tortures that I cannot endure them long. I know when he is going to her, I know it by his joy; and his peevishness tells me as plainly when he leaves her.
This ignoble transit, imperiously demanded, so dishonoring to the new love, overwhelmed Calyste who threw himself on the bench beside Camille, after exchanging the coldest of salutations with his rival. He was torn by conflicting emotions.
The marquise kept Camille and Calyste waiting long for breakfast; and the delay would have been significant to any eyes but those of Calyste, for when she did appear, her dress showed an evident intention to fascinate him and prevent another absence.
Calyste returned, and then the study of his forehead, his hair, his eyes, his countenance, his demeanor, gave a horrible interest to mere nothings, to observations pursued even to matters of toilet, in which a woman loses her self-respect and dignity.
"I have a sword for those who wear their beards too long," cried Calyste. "And I am very good at an epigram," said the other, smiling. "We are Frenchmen; the affair can easily be arranged." Mademoiselle des Touches cast a supplicating look on Calyste, which calmed him instantly.
The old baron rubbed his hands with joy, and gave fresh life to the baroness by whispering in her ear what he called the good news. Breakfast was gay; Charlotte, to whom the baron had given a hint, was sparkling. After the meal was over, Calyste went out upon the portico leading to the garden, followed by Charlotte; he gave her his arm and led her to the grotto.
Calyste went away, after shaking hands with Charles-Edouard and Maxime and thanking them for having pricked his illusions.
She now suddenly sang the words in a heart-rending manner, and then as suddenly interrupted herself. Calyste entered, and saw the reason. Poor Camille Maupin! poor Felicite! She turned to him a face bathed with tears, took out her handkerchief and dried them, and said, simply, without affectation, "Good-morning." She was beautiful as she sat there in her morning gown.
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