Chapter 11 - Page 2

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way you will fall into horrible suffering, and I wish to see you
happy. If you rouse, not the pride, but the self-will, the obstinacy
which is a strong feature in her character, she is capable of going
off at any moment to Paris and rejoining Conti; and what will you do
then?"

"I shall love her."

"You won't see her again."

"Oh! yes, I shall," he said.

"How?"

"I shall follow her."

"Why, you are as poor as Job, my dear boy."

"My father, Gasselin, and I lived for three months in Vendee on one
hundred and fifty francs, marching night and day."

"Calyste," said Mademoiselle des Touches, "now listen to me. I know
that you have too much candor to play a part, too much honesty to
deceive; and I don't want to corrupt such a nature as yours. Yet
deception is the only way by which you can win Beatrix; I take it
therefore upon myself. In a week from now she shall love you."

"Is it possible?" he said clasping his hands.

"Yes," replied Camille, "but it will be necessary to overcome certain
pledges which she has made to herself. I will do that for you. You
must not interfere in the rather arduous task I shall undertake. The
marquise has a true aristocratic delicacy of perception; she is keenly
distrustful; no hunter could meet with game more wary or more
difficult to capture. You are wholly unable to cope with her; will you
promise me a blind obedience?"

"What must I do?" replied the youth.

"Very little," said Camille. "Come here every day and devote yourself
to me. Come to my rooms; avoid Beatrix if you meet her. We will stay
together till four o'clock; you shall employ the time in study, and I
in smoking. It will be hard for you not to see her, but I will find
you a number of interesting books. You have read nothing as yet of
George Sand. I will send one of my people this very evening to Nantes
to buy her works and those of other authors whom you ought to know.
The evenings we will spend together, and I permit you to make love to
me if you can--it will be for the best."

"I know, Camille, that your affection for me is great and so rare that
it makes me wish I had never met Beatrix," he replied with simple good
faith; "but I don't see what you hope from all this."

"I hope to make her love you."

"Good heavens! it cannot be possible!" he cried, again clasping his
hands toward Camille, who was greatly moved on seeing the joy that she
gave him at her own expense.

"Now listen to me carefully," she said. "If you break