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After he had enjoyed the pleasure of proving how feeble in comparison were the charms of a Titian or a Veronese, then only did M. Charnot walk step by step to the first case and bend reverently over it. Yet the collection of paintings was unworthy of such disdain. The pictures were few, but all were signed with great names, most of them Italian, a few Dutch, Flemish, or German.
"To think that I've forgotten my overshoes, which I never fail to take with me to the country!" "The country, father?" said Jeanne, "why, Bourges is a city! "To be sure to be sure," answered M. Charnot, who feared he had hurt my feelings. He put on his spectacles and began to study the old houses around him. "Yes, a city; really quite a city." I do not remember what commonplace I stammered.
I fancied that the beadle was colder, and that the keepers were shadowing me like a political suspect. I thought it wise to change my side, so now I make out my list of books at the left-hand desk and occupy a seat on the left side of the room. M. Charnot remains faithful to his post beneath the right-hand inkstand. I have been watching him.
But if you would be kind enough to tell Monsieur Charnot how sorry I have been for it, you would relieve me of a burden." I saw her eyes fixed upon me for a moment with a look of attention not previously granted to me. She seemed pleased. "With all my heart," she said. There was a moment's silence. "Was this Rafaella, whose story you have told me, worthy of your friend's long regret?"
Now, my boy, the facts are ascertained: Mademoiselle Charnot is another's; you must get your mourning over and start with me to-night. To-morrow morning we shall be in Bourges, and you'll soon be laughing over your Parisian delusions, I warrant you!"
"To think that I've forgotten my overshoes, which I never fail to take with me to the country!" "The country, father?" said Jeanne, "why, Bourges is a city! "To be sure to be sure," answered M. Charnot, who feared he had hurt my feelings. He put on his spectacles and began to study the old houses around him. "Yes, a city; really quite a city." I do not remember what commonplace I stammered.
At half-past eight we left Desio together, and I silently blessed the host of the Albergo dell' Agnello, who had assured me that the carriage road was "so much more picturesque." I found it so, indeed. M. Charnot and Jeanne faced the horses. I sat opposite to M. Charnot, who was in the best of spirits after all the medals he had seen.
Not everybody can belong to the Institute, as your daughter remarked; not everybody can afford himself the luxury of publishing, at his own expense, works that sell twenty-seven copies or so." I expected a thunderbolt, an explosion. Not a bit of it. M. Charnot smiled outright with an air of extreme geniality. "I perceive, sir, that you are given to gossiping with the booksellers."
Yes, she hates me. It is too painful to think of. Mademoiselle Charnot will probably remain but a stranger to me, a fugitive apparition in my path of life; yet her anger lies heavy upon me, and the thought of those disdainful lips pursues me. I had rarely been more thoroughly disgusted with myself, and with all about me.
M. Charnot shook me by the hand, thoroughly delighted at having escaped from the train and being able to shake himself and tread once more the solid earth. He asked after my uncle, and when I replied that he was in excellent health, he went to get his luggage. "Well!" said Jeanne. "Is all arranged?" "On the contrary, nothing is." "Have you seen him?" "Not even that.
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