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Updated: May 13, 2025
Samuel Brohl sprang forward to pick it up, pressed it to his lips, and made his escape, like a thief carrying off his booty. When Antoinette re-entered the salon, she found there Mlle. Moiseney, whose boisterous, overwhelming joy had just put M. Moriaz to flight. This time Mlle. Moiseney knew everything.
As soon as dinner was over, M. Moriaz made ready to repair to Maisons, where Abbe Miollens passed the summer in the vicinity of Mme. de Lorcy. Mlle. Moiseney followed him to the carriage, and said: "You have a remarkable daughter, monsieur! With what courage she has assumed her role! With what resolution she has renounced an impossible happiness! Did you observe her during dinner?
Paul said: "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." The count was of St. Paul's opinion, and had Mlle. Moriaz known neither how to speak English, nor to draw, nor yet to dance, it would not in the least have diminished the esteem with which he honoured her.
M. Moriaz took his man by the arm, and led him in by force. He presented him to his daughter, saying: "Antoinette, let me present to you M. le Comte Larinski, a most excellent man, but little inclined to sociability. I was compelled to use violence in bringing him here." The count acknowledged these remarks with a constrained smile.
He bowed over his horse's neck, drew down his hat over his eyes, and replied, "To Maisons." "Do not go there. I have just left because there is a dreadful old woman there who says horrid things." Then Mlle. Moriaz added, in a queenly tone, "You cannot pass you are my prisoner."
He told M. Moriaz that he was still in the first bewildering surprise of his happiness, that he was not sorry to have time to recover from it; but he secretly promised himself to devise some artifice for abridging delays, for hastening the denoument.
The only satisfactory procedure for him now was to return whence he had come; but in these perilous passages to ascend is easier than to descend; it being impossible to choose one's steps, descent might lead to a rather undesirable adventure. M. Moriaz did not dare to risk this adventure.
I propose to put myself under discipline in order to expiate my extravagance. So soon as my cure is entirely finished I will set out for Paris, where I will do penance." "What kind of penance?" asked M. Moriaz. "Paris is not a hermitage." "Nor is it my intention to live there as a hermit," was the reply, given with perfect simplicity. "I go to give lessons in music and in the languages."
"If ever my heart is touched, it will be because I have met a man who is not like all the other men of my acquaintance. After that I will not positively forbid him to have decent clothing." M. Moriaz made a little gesture of impatience, and then set out to regain the chaise, which was some distance in advance.
This melancholy declaration was signed, and the signature was perfectly legible. Mlle. Moriaz spelled it out readily, although at that moment her sight was dim, and she was convinced that the trinket, which Count Larinski had presented to her as a family relic, had belonged to Anna Petrovna, Princess Gulof.
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