“Yes, Raoul,” the young girl replied; “I have been waiting for you.”
“I beg your pardon. When I came into the room I was not aware-”
“I know- but I entreated Olivain not to tell you-”
Louise hesitated; and as Raoul did not attempt to interrupt her, a moment’s silence ensued, during which the sound of their throbbing hearts might have been heard, no longer in unison with each other, but the one beating as violently as the other. It was for Louise to speak, and she made an effort to do so. “I wished to speak to you,” she said. “It was absolutely necessary that I should see you- myself- alone. I have not hesitated to adopt a step which must remain secret; for no one, except yourself, could understand my motive, M. de Bragelonne.”
“In fact, Mademoiselle,” Raoul stammered out, almost breathless from emotion, “so far as I am concerned, and despite the good opinion you have of me, I confess-”
“Will you do me the great kindness to sit down and listen to me?” said Louise, interrupting him with her soft, sweet voice.
Bragelonne looked at her for a moment; then, mournfully shaking his head, he sat, or rather fell down, on a chair. “Speak!” he said.
Louise cast a glance all round her. This look was a timid entreaty, and implored secrecy far more effectually than her expressed words had done a few minutes before.
Raoul rose, and went to the door, which he opened. “Olivain,” he said, “I am not within for anyone”; and then turning towards Louise, he added, “Is not that what you wished?”
Nothing could have produced a greater effect upon Louise than these few words which seemed to signify, “You see that I still understand you.” She passed a handkerchief across her eyes, in order to remove a rebellious tear; and then, having collected herself for a moment, she said: “Raoul, do not turn your kind, frank look away from me! You are not one of those men who despise a woman for having given her heart to another, even though that love might render him unhappy or might wound his pride.”
Raoul did not reply.
“Alas!” continued La Valliere, “it is only too true. My cause is a bad one, and I know not in what way to begin. It will be better for me, I think, to relate to you very simply everything that has befallen me. As I shall speak the truth, I shall always find my path clear before me in the obscurity, hesitation, and obstacles which I have to brave in order to solace my heart, which is full to overflowing, and wishes to pour itself out at your feet.”
Raoul continued to preserve the same unbroken silence. La Valliere looked at him with an air that seemed to say, “Encourage me; for pity’s sake, but a single word!” But Raoul did not open his lips; and the young girl was obliged to continue.
“Just now,” she said, “M. de Saint-Aignan came to me by the King’s directions.” She cast down her eyes as she said this; while Raoul, on his side, turned his away, in order to avoid looking at her. “M. de Saint-Aignan came to me from the King,” she repeated, “and told me that you knew all”; and she attempted to look Raoul in the face, after inflicting this further wound upon him in addition to the many others he had already received; but it was impossible to meet Raoul’s eyes.
“He told me you were incensed with me,- justly so, I admit.”
This time Raoul looked at the young girl, and a smile full of disdain passed across his lips.
“Oh,” she continued, “I entreat you, do not say that you have had any other feeling against me than that of anger merely! Raoul, wait until I have told you all,- wait until I have said to you all that I had to say, all that I came to say!”
Raoul, by the strength of his own iron will, forced his features to assume a calmer expression; and the disdainful smile upon his lip passed away.
“In the first place,” said La Valliere,- “in the first place, with my hands raised in entreaty towards you, with my forehead bowed to the ground before you, I entreat you, as the most generous, as the noblest of men, to pardon, to forgive me. If I have left you in ignorance of what was passing in my own bosom, never, at least, would I have consented to deceive you. Oh, I entreat you, Raoul,- I implore you on my knees,- answer me one word, even though you wrong me in doing so! Better an injurious word from your lips than a suspicion in your heart!”