"Good, very good," she said at last.(She had not given herself up to the love expressed in her face; her mind had been entirely absorbed by deep-laid schemes which she kept to herself.) "But THAT is not the question, dear." (The "angel" was only "that" by this time.) "Let us think of your affairs.Yes, we will go, and the sooner the better.
Arrange it all; I will follow you.It is glorious to leave Paris and the world behind.I will set about my preparations in such a way that no one can suspect anything."I WILL FOLLOW YOU! Just so Mlle.Mars might have spoken those words to send a thrill through two thousand listening men and women.When a Duchesse de Maufrigneuse offers, in such words, to make such a sacrifice to love, she has paid her debt.How should Victurnien speak of sordid details after that? He could so much the better hide his schemes, because Diane was particularly careful not to inquire into them.She was now, and always, as de Marsay said, an invited guest at a banquet wreathed with roses, a banquet which mankind, as in duty bound, made ready for her.
Victurnien would not go till the promise had been sealed.He must draw courage from his happiness before he could bring himself to do a deed on which, as he inwardly told himself, people would be certain to put a bad construction.Still (and this was the thought that decided him)he counted on his aunt and father to hush up the affair; he even counted on Chesnel.Chesnel would think of one more compromise.
Besides, "this business," as he called it in his thoughts, was the only way of raising money on the family estate.With three hundred thousand francs, he and Diane would lead a happy life hidden in some palace in Venice; and there they would forget the world.They went through their romance in advance.
Next day Victurnien made out a bill for three hundred thousand francs, and took it to the Kellers.The Kellers advanced the money, for du Croisier happened to have a balance at the time; but they wrote to let him know that he must not draw again on them without giving them notice.Du Croisier, much astonished, asked for a statement of accounts.It was sent.Everything was explained.The day of his vengeance had arrived.
When Victurnien had drawn "his" money, he took it to Mme.de Maufrigneuse.She locked up the banknotes in her desk, and proposed to bid the world farewell by going to the Opera to see it for the last time.Victurnien was thoughtful, absent, and uneasy.He was beginning to reflect.He thought that his seat in the Duchess' box might cost him dear; that perhaps, when he had put the three hundred thousand francs in safety, it would be better to travel post, to fall at Chesnel's feet, and tell him all.But before they left the opera-house, the Duchess, in spite of herself, gave Victurnien an adorable glance, her eyes were shining with the desire to go back once more to bid farewell to the nest which she loved so much.And boy that he was, he lost a night.
The next day, at three o'clock, he was back again at the Hotel de Maufrigneuse; he had come to take the Duchess' orders for that night's escape.And, "Why should we go?" asked she; "I have thought it all out.The Vicomtesse de Beauseant and the Duchesse de Langeais disappeared.If I go too, it will be something quite commonplace.We will brave the storm.It will be a far finer thing to do.I am sure of success." Victurnien's eyes dazzled; he felt as if his skin were dissolving and the blood oozing out all over him.
"What is the matter with you?" cried the fair Diane, noticing a hesitation which a woman never forgives.Your truly adroit lover will hasten to agree with any fancy that Woman may take into her head, and suggest reasons for doing otherwise, while leaving her free exercise of her right to change her mind, her intentions, and sentiments generally as often as she pleases.Victurnien was angry for the first time, angry with the wrath of a weak man of poetic temperament; it was a storm of rain and lightning flashes, but no thunder followed.The angel on whose faith he had risked more than his life, the honor of his house, was very roughly handled.
"So," said she, "we have come to this after eighteen months of tenderness! You are unkind, very unkind.Go away!--I do not want to see you again.I thought that you loved me.You do not.""I DO NOT LOVE YOU?" repeated he, thunderstruck by the reproach.
"No, monsieur."
"And yet----" he cried."Ah! if you but knew what I have just done for your sake!""And how have you done so much for me, monsieur? As if a man ought not to do anything for a woman that has done so much for him.""You are not worthy to know it!" Victurnien cried in a passion of anger.
"Oh!"
After that sublime, "Oh!" Diane bowed her head on her hand and sat, still, cold, and implacable as angels naturally may be expected to do, seeing that they share none of the passions of humanity.At the sight of the woman he loved in this terrible attitude, Victurnien forgot his danger.Had he not just that moment wronged the most angelic creature on earth? He longed for forgiveness, he threw himself before her, he kissed her feet, he pleaded, he wept.Two whole hours the unhappy young man spent in all kinds of follies, only to meet the same cold face, while the great silent tears dropping one by one, were dried as soon as they fell lest the unworthy lover should try to wipe them away.The Duchess was acting a great agony, one of those hours which stamp the woman who passes through them as something august and sacred.
Two more hours went by.By this time the Count had gained possession of Diane's hand; it felt cold and spiritless.The beautiful hand, with all the treasures in its grasp, might have been supple wood; there was nothing of Diane in it; he had taken it, it had not been given to him.
As for Victurnien, the spirit had ebbed out of his frame, he had ceased to think.He would not have seen the sun in heaven.What was to be done? What course should he take? What resolution should he make?