Chapter 9

A FIRST MEETING

What young man full of abounding but restrained life and emotion would
not have had the glorious idea of going to Croisic to see Madame de
Rochefide land, and examine her incognito? Calyste greatly surprised
his father and mother by going off in the morning without waiting for
the mid-day breakfast. Heaven knows with what agility the young
Breton's feet sped along. Some unknown vigor seemed lent to him; he
walked on air, gliding along by the walls of Les Touches that he might
not be seen from the house. The adorable boy was ashamed of his ardor,
and afraid of being laughed at; Felicite and Vignon were so
perspicacious! besides, in such cases young fellows fancy that their
foreheads are transparent.

He reached the shore, strengthened by a stone embankment, at the foot
of which is a house where travellers can take shelter in storms of
wind or rain. It is not always possible to cross the little arm of the
sea which separates the landing-place of Guerande from Croisic; the
weather may be bad, or the boats not ready; and during this time of
waiting, it is necessary to put not only the passengers but their
horses, donkeys, baggages, and merchandise under cover.

Calyste presently saw two boats coming over from Croisic, laden with
baggage,--trunks, packages, bags, and chests,--the shape and
appearance of which proved to a native of these parts that such
extraordinary articles must belong to travellers of distinction. In
one of the boats was a young woman in a straw bonnet with a green
veil, accompanied by a man. This boat was the first to arrive. Calyste
trembled until on closer view he saw they were a maid and a
man-servant.

"Are you going over to Croisic, Monsieur Calyste?" said one of the
boatmen; to whom he replied with a shake of the head, annoyed at being
called by his name.

He was captivated by the sight of a chest covered with tarred cloth on
which were painted the words, MME. LA MARQUISE DE ROCHEFIDE. The name
shone before him like a talisman; he fancied there was something
fateful in it. He knew in some mysterious way, which he could not
doubt, that he should love that woman. Why? In the burning desert of
his new and infinite desires, still vague and without an object, his
fancy fastened with all its strength on the first woman that presented
herself. Beatrix necessarily inherited the love which Camille had
rejected.

Calyste watched the landing of the luggage, casting from time to time
a glance at Croisic, from which he hoped to see another boat put out
to cross to the little promontory, and show him Beatrix, already to
his eyes what Beatrice was to Dante, a marble statue on which to hang
his garlands and his flowers. He stood with