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Updated: May 26, 2025
Calyste is lost unless we marry him promptly. He loves Mademoiselle des Touches, an actress!" "In that case, send for Charlotte." "I have sent; my sister will receive my letter to-morrow," replied Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, bowing to the chevalier.
What must I do? must I stay away?" asked Calyste, with difficulty restraining his tears, one of which rolled down his cheek and touched Felicite deeply. "You are an angel!" she cried. Then she gaily sang the "Stay! stay!" of Matilde in "Guillaume Tell," taking all gravity from that magnificent answer of the princess to her subject.
"You little ninny!" whispered Camille, lightly touching his ear with a kiss that was full of friendship. "Quite true," thought Calyste to himself as the carriage drove away. "I am forgetting her advice but I shall always forget it, I'm afraid." Mademoiselle Zephirine had ordered the best wine to be brought from the cellar, and Mariotte had surpassed herself in her Breton dishes.
The tears came into Madame de Rochefide's eyes, and she turned away toward the parapet to hide them. Calyste followed her. "Madame," said Camille, in a low voice to the viscountess, "are you not aware that the marquise is separated from her husband? She has not seen her son for two years, and does not know when she will see him." "You don't say so!" said Madame de Kergarouet.
Thence Calyste, urging his coachman to speed, rushed to the rue de Chartres in order to know how Beatrix had passed the rest of the night. He found that unfortunate just from her bath, fresh, embellished, and breakfasting with a very good appetite.
I shall preach a sermon upon her next Sunday." "Don't do that!" cried the baroness. "The peasants and the paludiers would be capable of rushing to Les Touches. Calyste is worthy of his name; he is Breton; some dreadful thing might happen to him, for he would surely defend her as he would the Blessed Virgin."
"Mademoiselle des Touches is a saintly woman; I am her surety for that. She has none but good intentions to Calyste. May she only be enabled to carry them out." "Let me know the day when she sets foot in this house, that I may get out of it," cried the old woman passionately. "She has killed both father and son.
This sum, joined to the small present fortune of the Guenics, might enable her to find a wife for Calyste, who would bring him twelve or even fifteen thousand francs a year. Charlotte de Kergarouet, with her aunt's fortune, a rich Irish girl, or any other good heiress would have suited the baroness, who seemed indifferent as to choice.
This room, hung with garnet velvet heightened here and there with dead-gold silken trimmings, the floor covered with a dark red carpet, the windows resembling conservatories, with abundant flowers in the jardinieres, was lighted so faintly that Calyste could scarcely see on a mantel-shelf two cases of old celadon, between which gleamed a silver cup attributed to Benvenuto Cellini, and brought from Italy by Beatrix.
I think he hoped to worm out of me the secret of your love, in the midst of the joy he expected his flatteries to cause me." "What else?" said Calyste, watching Beatrix and Conti, who were now coming towards them; but he listened no longer to Camille's words. In talking with Conti, Camille had held herself prudently on the defensive; she had betrayed neither Calyste's secret nor that of Beatrix.
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