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He found M. Larinski busy strapping his trunks, and waiting for the mail-coach that made the journey between Samaden and Chur by the Col du Julier. M. Moriaz expressed his regret at having missed his visit, and asked if he would consent to charge himself with a commission for his daughter, who desired to send to her godmother, Mme. De Lorcy, a sketch of Saint Moritz.
He answered more calmly: "No, madame, you are a woman without an equal, and I name you every day in my prayers. You are my only resource, my consolation, my counsel. Do not refuse me your precious instructions! What ought I to do?" Mme. de Lorcy gazed up at the ceiling for an instant, and then said: "Love elsewhere, my dear; abandon this foolish girl to her fate and her Pole."
"I thank you a thousand times for your kindly intentions, but God forbid that I should uselessly interfere with your daily pursuits; your time is too precious! I declare myself completely edified. I consider the proof firmly established; there is no further doubt." As Madame de Lorcy had remarked, Abbe Miollens was not one to easily relax his hold upon an idea he had once deemed good.
No hasty decision, I entreat; an expert is bound not to be influenced by his prejudices, but to weigh his judgments as his words. Adieu, dear madame; pity me in spite of my full cheeks." Madame de Lorcy replied in these words, by return mail: "You are indeed innocent, my dear professor, and your finesse is but too apparent; I could not help understanding. Is she, indeed so foolish.
He knew that Antoinette had repaired to Maisons Lafitte to have an explanation with Mme. de Lorcy, and this thought cast a shadow over his felicity. He hoped, however, that this interview might turn out according to his wishes; that the Pole star, which had caused him so much disquietude, might disappear forever from his horizon. Some one knocked at the door of his laboratory.
"For the love of God, what is the matter?" "Ah! would that I could spare you this trouble! Your father has just received a letter from Mme. de Lorcy." Antoinette grew more attentive, her breath came quickly. "And what was there in this letter that is so terrible, so heart-rending?" she asked, forcing a smile. "Fortunately, I am here," replied Mlle. Moiseney.
In the meanwhile she gave herself the pleasure of tormenting him by her silence, and of grieving him by her long-continued pouting. One day M. Moriaz said to his daughter: "Mme. de Lorcy is displeased with us; this grieves me. I fear you have dropped some word that has wounded her. I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will go and see her and coax her into good-humour."
"There never was council yet that voted that." There was a pause, after which M. Moriaz resumed: "And so, my dear, you are persuaded that M. Larinski is still free, and that Mme. de Lorcy lied?" "Not at all; if she had lied, she would not have betrayed herself so naively just now. I accuse her of deceiving herself, or rather of having wished to deceive herself.
"I have concluded that, with your permission, we shall leave to-morrow morning for Cormeilles." This conclusion was by no means agreeable to M. Moriaz, whose face grew sensibly longer. "Of what are you afraid? You know that I have character, and you ought to know, no matter what Mme. de Lorcy says, that I am not wanting in good sense.
She obstinately asserted to them that their seeming happiness was all a deceit; that they had fastened a stone about their necks; and that, without appearing to do so, at the bottom of their hearts they bitterly repented. She added, "It is not my fault; I told you, but you would not believe me." Mme. de Lorcy had an almost maternal affection for her nephew, M. Camille Langis.
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