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Updated: June 13, 2025
He wanted to see what she would answer. Would she perhaps say, "Very well, Gustave. How are you?" in a tone which would betray too great intimacy! But Henriette was a sharp young person. The tone did not sound like Gustave's. She asked in bewilderment, "What?" and then again, "What?" So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected, had to burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke.
Oh, sir, it is sad to know that our benefactors are unhappy, and to be able to do nothing for them but pray to God and hope for his mercy!" The simple-minded woman, without meaning it, had touched some tender strings in Gustave's heart; and, as she saw the silent tears coursing their way down his cheeks, she said, entreatingly,
So, too, Gustave's sense of honour and according to his own Parisian code that sense was keen became exquisitely stung by the thought that he was compelled to play the part of a mean dissimulator to the girl for whose opinions he had the profoundest contempt.
He was dimly aware of the Vicomte's masculine talents for public life; and the high reputation he had already acquired among military authorities, and even among experienced and thoughtful civilians, had weight upon Gustave's impressionable temperament.
Notwithstanding the adverse comparison with his parent, one has but to see Gustave's face, with its determination and refinement, to feel a certain assurance as to Sweden's future.
Gustave Lenoble's letters lying unanswered in her desk asserted the all-absorbing nature of Diana's affection for the fading girl. She was fading. The consciousness of this made all other love sacrilege, as it seemed to Diana. She sat up late that night to answer Gustave's last letter of piteous complaint. "She had forgotten him.
Be firm, Di, darling; your Charlotte will stand by you, and find a home for you always, come what may. Who is this M. Lenoble? Some horrible ugly old creature, I dare say." The vision of Gustave's frank handsome face arose before her very vividly as Charlotte said this. "No, dear," she replied. "M. Lenoble is not an old man five-and-thirty at most."
Yet, when I had been married to Marie Delhasse some six months, I received a letter from my good friend Gustave de Berensac, informing me of his approaching union with Mme. de Saint-Maclou. And, if I might judge from Gustave's letter, he repudiated utterly the idea which I have ventured to suggest concerning the duchess.
I should be sad; I should suffer; perhaps even I should die; but, father dear, I would die in your arms!" She bent down her head for a moment as if oppressed by a dreadful thought; but, raising her large eyes, liquid with tears, she fixed them on her father, as she added, "You doubt Gustave's affection for you; you imagine him capable of filling your life with sorrow, of separating me from you!
Thereupon, a painful, mocking expression came over Gustave's smile, as though he had heard other words than those perchance an unconscious wish, the hope that the old aunt might die before he himself did, that he would inherit the promised half-million of francs, and then not long encumber his family. "Put the boy down now," said Madame Vigneron to her husband.
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