LAbbe Constantin, vol 3 | Page 9

addressed to her, and which she took for herself, nevertheless.
It would have been difficult not to be mistaken.
For of these still vague and confused sentiments which agitated her,
Bettina had as yet said nothing. She guarded and caressed the secret of
her budding love, as a miser guards and caresses the first coins of his

treasure. The day when she should see clearly into her own heart; the
day that she should be sure that she loved--ah! she would speak that
day, and how happy she should be to tell all to Susie!
Mrs. Scott had ended by attributing to herself this melancholy of Jean,
which, day by day, took a more marked character. She was flattered by
it--a woman is never displeased at thinking herself beloved--and vexed
at the same time. She held Jean in great esteem, in great affection; but
she was greatly distressed at the thought that if he were sad and
unhappy, it was because of her.
Susie was, besides, conscious of her own innocence. With others she
had sometimes been coquettish, very coquettish. To torment them a
little, was that such a great crime? They had nothing to do, they were
good-for- nothing, it occupied them while it amused her. It helped them
to pass their time, and it helped her, too. But Susie had not to reproach
herself for having flirted with Jean. She recognized his merit and his
superiority; he was worth more than the others, he was a man to suffer
seriously, and that was what Mrs. Scott did not wish. Already, two or
three times, she had been on the point of speaking to him very seriously,
very affectionately, but she had reflected Jean was going away for three
weeks; on his return, if it were still necessary, she would read him a
lecture, and would act in such a manner that love should not come and
foolishly interfere in their friendship.
So Jean was to go the next day. Bettina had insisted that he should
spend this last day at Longueval, and dine at the house. Jean had
refused, alleging that he had much to do the night before his departure.
He arrived in the evening, about half-past ten; he came on foot. Several
times on the way he had been inclined to return.
"If I had courage enough," he said to himself, "I would not see her
again. I shall leave to-morrow, and return no more to Souvigny while
she is there. My resolution is taken, and taken forever."
But he continued his way, he would see her again--for the last time.

As soon as he entered the drawing-room, Bettina hastened to him.
"It is you at last! How late you are!"
"I have been very busy."
"And you are going to-morrow?"
"Yes, to-morrow."
"Early?"
"At five in the morning."
"You will go by the road which runs by the wall of the park, and goes
through the village?"
"Yes, that is the way we shall go."
"Why so early in the morning? I would have gone out on the terrace to
see you pass, and to wish you good-by."
Bettina detained for a moment Jean's burning hand in hers. He drew it
mournfully away, with an effort.
"I must go and speak to your sister," said he.
"Directly, she has not seen you, there are a dozen persons round her.
Come and sit here a little while, near me."
He was obliged to seat himself beside her.
"We are going away, too," said she.
"You!"
"Yes. An hour ago, we received a telegram from my brother-in-law,
which has caused us great joy. We did not expect him for a month, but
he is coming back in a fortnight. He will embark the day after

to-morrow at New York, on board the Labrador. We are going to meet
him at Havre. We shall also start the day after to-morrow; we are going
to take the children, it will do them a great deal of good to spend a few
days at the seaside. How pleased my brother-in-law will be to know
you--he knows you already, we have spoken of you in all our letters. I
am sure you and Mr. Scott will get on extremely well together, he is so
good. How long shall you stay away?"
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks in a camp?"
"Yes, Miss Percival, in the camp of Cercottes."
"In the middle of the forest of Orleans. I made your godfather explain
all about it to me this morning. Of course I am delighted to go to meet
my brother-in-law; but at the same time, I am a little sorry to leave here,
for I should have gone every morning to pay a little visit to Monsieur
l'Abbe. He would have given me news of you. Perhaps,