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"It was certainly he whom we saw in church." Madame Dumay and Monsieur and Madame Latournelle, accepted this as the natural explanation of Ernest's journey. "Do you know, Ernest," cried Canalis, when they had driven a short distance from the house, "I don't see any marriageable woman in society in Paris who compares with that adorable girl." "Ah, that ends it!" replied Ernest.
Meanwhile she sat tranquilly sewing garments for the children of the poor, and listening abstractedly to the grumblings of Monsieur Latournelle when Dumay held the thirteenth card or drew out his last trump. Her religious faith drove Modeste for a time into a singular track of thought. "Faith," she thought, "can move mountains; Christ has said so.
"He is more than a friend," cried Canalis taking Ernest by the shoulder and leaning upon it like Alexander on Hephaestion, "we love each other as though we were brothers " Madame Latournelle cut short the poet's speech by pointing to Ernest and saying aloud to her husband, "Surely that is the gentleman we saw at church." "Why not?" said Charles Mignon, quickly, observing that Ernest reddened.
Butscha, La Briere, and Madame Latournelle exchanged glances that were more than half derisive, and drove Modeste to a pitch of irritation that kept her silent for a moment. "Mademoiselle, do not mind them," said Canalis, smiling upon her, "we are neither beaten, nor caught in a contradiction.
"Butscha knows very well that a mere glance at Modeste would cost him a Breton ducking. Not a soul has any communication with this house. Madame Latournelle who takes Modeste to church ever since your your misfortune, madame, has carefully watched her on the way and all through the service, and has seen nothing suspicious.
"You will permit me not to decide in a moment the fate of my whole life," she said, turning to rejoin the demoiselles d'Herouville. Those noble ladies were just then engaged in flattering the vanity of little Latournelle, intending to win him over to their interests.
To Modeste a new book was an event; a masterpiece that would have horrified Madame Latournelle made her happy, equally unhappy if the great work did not play havoc with her heart. A lyric instinct bubbled in that girlish soul, so full of the beautiful illusions of its youth.
But before I become another Gobenheim, I seek to know whether this dream could be really carried out. What do you say, mademoiselle, you?" Modeste was so astonished that she did not notice the question. The trap of the lover was much better baited than that of the soldier, for the poor girl was rendered speechless. "Poor Butscha!" whispered Madame Latournelle to her husband.
But on the day when she subpoenaed God for the third time she firmly believed that the Elect of her dreams was within the church, hiding, perhaps out of delicacy, behind one of the pillars, round all of which she dragged Madame Latournelle on a tour of inspection. After this failure, she deposed the Deity from omnipotence.
"I would rather not. I have bundled myself up, and I don't think it will do me any harm to go out." And Mademoiselle Mignon marched off beside Latournelle, refusing to take his arm lest she should be questioned about the outward trembling which betrayed her inward agitation at the thought of at last seeing her great poet. One look, the first, was it not about to decide her fate?
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