Chapter 17 - Page 2

and matters went so well
that during the winter of 1837 the young Baron du Guenic, whose youth
and health had returned to him, listened without repugnance to his
mother when she reminded him of the promise made to his dying father
and proposed to him a marriage with Sabine de Grandlieu. Still, while
agreeing to fulfil his promise, he concealed within his soul an
indifference to all things, of which the baroness alone was aware, but
which she trusted would be conquered by the pleasures of a happy home.

On the day when the Grandlieu family and the baroness, accompanied by
her relations who came from England for this occasion, assembled in
the grand salon of the hotel de Grandlieu to sign the marriage
contract, and Leopold Hannequin, the family notary, explained the
preliminaries of that contract before reading it, Calyste, on whose
forehead every one present might have noticed clouds, suddenly and
curtly refused to accept the benefactions offered him by Mademoiselle
des Touches. Did he still count on Felicite's devotion to recover
Beatrix? In the midst of the embarrassment and stupefaction of the
assembled families, Sabine de Grandlieu entered the room and gave him
a letter, explaining that Mademoiselle des Touches had requested her
to give it to him on this occasion.

Calyste turned away from the company to the embrasure of a window and
read as follows:--

Camille Maupin to Calyste.

Calyste, before I enter my convent cell I am permitted to cast a
look upon the world I am now to leave for a life of prayer and
solitude. That look is to you, who have been the whole world to me
in these last months. My voice will reach you, if my calculations
do not miscarry, at the moment of a ceremony I am unable to take
part in.

On the day when you stand before the altar giving your hand and
name to a young and charming girl who can love you openly before
earth and heaven, I shall be before another altar in a convent at
Nantes betrothed forever to Him who will neither fail nor betray
me. But I do not write to sadden you,--only to entreat you not to
hinder by false delicacy the service I have wished to do you since
we first met. Do not contest my rights so dearly bought.

If love is suffering, ah! I have loved you indeed, my Calyste. But
feel no remorse; the only happiness I have known in life I owe to
you; the pangs were caused by my own self. Make me compensation,
then, for all those pangs, those sorrows, by causing me an
everlasting joy. Let the poor Camille, who /is/ no longer, still
be something in the material comfort you enjoy. Dear, let me be
like the fragrance of flowers in your life, mingling myself with
it unseen and not importunate.

To you, Calyste, I shall owe my