“I would strangle you.”
“Ah! very well, then,” said Malicorne; “I believe I begin to
desire something.”
“And what do you desire, Monsieur Demon? That I should lose
my soul from anger?”
Malicorne was rolling his hat respectfully between his
fingers; but, all at once, he let fall his hat, seized the
young girl by the shoulders, pulled her towards him and
sealed her mouth with two lips that were very warm, for a
man pretending to so much indifference. Aure would have
cried out, but the cry was stifled in the kiss. Nervous and,
apparently, angry, the young girl pushed Malicorne against
the wall.
“Good!” said Malicorne, philosophically, “that’s enough for
six weeks. Adieu, mademoiselle, accept my very humble
salutation.” And he made three steps towards the door.
“Well! no, — you shall not go!” cried, Montalais, stamping
with her little foot. “Stay where you are! I order you!”
“You order me?”
“Yes; am I not mistress?”
“Of my heart and soul, without doubt.”
“A pretty property! ma foi! The soul is silly and the heart
dry.”
“Beware, Montalais, I know you,” said Malicorne; “you are
going to fall in love with your humble servant.”
“Well, yes!” said she, hanging round his neck with childish
indolence, rather than with loving abandonment. “Well, yes!
for I must thank you at least.”
“And for what?”
“For the commission, is it not my whole future?”
“And mine.”
Montalais looked at him.
“It is frightful,” said she, “that one can never guess
whether you are speaking seriously or not.”
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“I cannot speak more seriously. I was going to Paris, — you
are going there, — we are going there.”
“And so it was for that motive only you have served me,
selfish fellow!”
“What would you have me say, Aure? I cannot live without
you.”
“Well! in truth, it is just so with me; you are,
nevertheless, it must be confessed, a very bad-hearted young
man.”
“Aure, my dear Aure, take care! if you take to calling names
again, you know the effect they produce upon me, and I shall
adore you.” And so saying, Malicorne drew the young girl a
second time towards him. But at that instant a step
resounded on the staircase. The young people were so close,
that they would have been surprised in the arms of each
other, if Montalais had not violently pushed Malicorne, with
his back against the door, just then opening. A loud cry,
followed by angry reproaches, immediately resounded. It was
Madame de Saint-Remy who uttered the cry and the angry
words. The unlucky Malicorne almost crushed her between the
wall and the door she was coming in at.
“It is again that good-for-nothing!” cried the old lady.
“Always here!”
“Ah, madame!” replied Malicorne, in a respectful tone; “it
is eight long days since I was here.”
CHAPTER 78
In which we at length see the true Heroine of this History appear
Behind Madame de Saint-Remy stood Mademoiselle de la
Valliere. She heard the explosion of maternal anger, and as
she divined the cause of it, she entered the chamber
trembling, and perceived the unlucky Malicorne, whose woeful
countenance might have softened or set laughing whoever
observed it coolly. He had promptly intrenched himself
behind a large chair, as if to avoid the first attacks of
Madame de Saint-Remy; he had no hopes of prevailing with
words, for she spoke louder than he, and without stopping;
but he reckoned upon the eloquence of his gestures. The old
lady would neither listen to nor see anything; Malicorne had
long been one of her antipathies. But her anger was too
great not to overflow from Malicorne on his accomplice.
Montalais had her turn.
“And you, mademoiselle; you may be certain I shall inform
madame of what is going on in the apartment of one of her
ladies of honor!”
“Oh, dear mother!” cried Mademoiselle de la Valliere, “for
mercy’s sake, spare —- ”
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“Hold your tongue, mademoiselle, and do not uselessly
trouble yourself to intercede for unworthy people; that a
young maid of honor like you should be subjected to a bad