BOOK SEVENTH.
CHAPTER 1. THE DANGER OF CONFIDING ONE'S SECRET TO A GOAT.
(continued)
From the smiles and significant gestures of Dame Aloise,
from the glances which she threw towards her daughter,
Fleur-de-Lys, as she spoke low to the captain, it was easy
to see that there was here a question of some betrothal
concluded, some marriage near at hand no doubt, between the
young man and Fleur-de-Lys. From the embarrassed coldness
of the officer, it was easy to see that on his side, at least,
love had no longer any part in the matter. His whole air was
expressive of constraint and weariness, which our lieutenants
of the garrison would to-day translate admirably as, "What a
beastly bore!"
The poor dame, very much infatuated with her daughter,
like any other silly mother, did not perceive the officer's lack
of enthusiasm, and strove in low tones to call his attention
to the infinite grace with which Fleur-de-Lys used her needle
or wound her skein.
"Come, little cousin," she said to him, plucking him by the
sleeve, in order to speak in his ear, "Look at her, do! see her
stoop."
"Yes, truly," replied the young man, and fell back into his
glacial and absent-minded silence.
A moment later, he was obliged to bend down again, and
Dame Aloise said to him,--
"Have you ever beheld a more gay and charming face than
that of your betrothed? Can one be more white and blonde?
are not her hands perfect? and that neck--does it not
assume all the curves of the swan in ravishing fashion? How
I envy you at times! and how happy you are to be a man,
naughty libertine that you are! Is not my Fleur-de-Lys
adorably beautiful, and are you not desperately in love with
her?"
"Of course," he replied, still thinking of something else.
"But do say something," said Madame Aloise, suddenly
giving his shoulder a push; "you have grown very timid."
We can assure our readers that timidity was neither the
captain's virtue nor his defect. But he made an effort to do
what was demanded of him.
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