'You would not listen to me; you ought to have believed me.' ""It is agreed; you are a good father, and now we are in perfect harmony," she replied, impulsively seizing his two hands, and pressing them in her own.
He watched her a moment between his half-closed eyes, and then he cried, half resentfully:
"But, /mon Dieu/ why do you love this man?"She replied, in a low voice: "Because I love him; this is my sole reason; but I find it good.""Certainly most decisive.But, come, let us go quickly," he replied, rising."I fear that my retorts and crucibles, if they listen to you much longer, will fall into a syncope as prolonged as that of M.
Larinski.Was ever such a debate heard of in a chemical laboratory?"As soon as dinner was over, M.Moriaz made ready to repair to Maisons, where Abbe Miollens passed the summer in the vicinity of Mme.de Lorcy.Mlle.Moiseney followed him to the carriage, and said:
"You have a remarkable daughter, monsieur! With what courage she has assumed her role! With what resolution she has renounced an impossible happiness! Did you observe her during dinner? How tranquil she was!
how attentive! Is she not astonishing?"
"As astonishing as you are sagacious," he replied.
"Ah! undoubtedly; I never thought that she loved him so much as you imagine I did: but he pleased her; she admired him.Did she ever utter a word of complaint, or a sigh, on learning the cruel truth? what strength of mind! what equability of temperament! what nobility of sentiment! You do not admire her enough, monsieur; you are not proud enough of having such a daughter.As to me, I glory in having been of some value in her education.I always made a point of developing her judgment, and putting her on her guard against all erratic tendencies.
Yes, I can safely say that I took great pains to cultivate and fortify her reason.""I thank you with all my heart," rejoined M.Moriaz, leaning back in one corner of the carriage; "you can most assuredly boast of having accomplished a marvellous work; but I beg of you, mademoiselle, when you have finished your discourse, will you kindly say to the coachman that I am ready to start?"During the drive, M.Moriaz gave himself up to the most melancholy reflections; he even tormented himself with sundry reproaches."We have acted contrary to good sense," he thought."Her imagination has been taken by storm; in time it would have calmed down.We should have left her to herself, to her natural defence--her own good judgment, for she has a large stock of it.I fell on the unlucky idea of calling Mme.de Lorcy to my aid, and she has spoiled everything by her boasted /finesse/.As soon as Antoinette had reason to suspect that her choice was condemned by us, and that we were plotting the enemy's destruction, the sympathy, mingled with admiration, which she accorded to M.Larinski, became transformed into love; the fire smouldering beneath ashes leaped up into flames.We neglected to count on that passion which is innate in women, and which phrenologists call combativeness.With her there is now a cause to be gained, and, when love unites its interests with cards or with war, it becomes irresistible.Truly our campaign is greatly jeopardized, unless Heaven or M.Larinski interfere."Thus reasoned M.Moriaz, whom paternal misadventures and recent experiences had rendered a better psychologist than he ever had been.
While busied with his reflections the carriage drove rapidly onward, and thirty-five minutes sufficed to reach the little /maison de campagne/ occupied by Abbe Miollens.He found him in his cabinet, installed in a cushioned arm-chair embroidered by Mme.de Lorcy, slowly sipping a cup of excellent tea brought him by the missionaries from China.On his left was his violin-box, on his right his beloved Horace, Orelli's edition, Zurich, 1844.
Conversation began.As soon as M.Moriaz had pronounced the name of Count Larinski, the abbe assumed the charmed and contented countenance of a dog lying in wait for its favourite game.
He exclaimed, "A most truly admirable man!""Mercy upon us!" thought M.Moriaz."Here we have an exordium strangely similar to that of Mlle.Moiseney.Do they think to condemn me to a state of perpetual admiration of their prodigy? I fear there must be some kinship of spirit between our friend the abbe and that crack-brained woman; that he is cousin-german to her at least.""How grateful I am to you, my dear monsieur," continued Abbe Miollens, lying back in his chair, "for having given us the pleasure of the acquaintance of this rare man! It is you who sent him to us; to you belongs the merit of having discovered him, or invented him, if you choose.""Oh! I beg of you not to exaggerate," humbly rejoined M.Moriaz."He invented himself, I assure you.""At all events it was you who patronized him, who made him known to us; without you the world never would have suspected the existence of this superb genius, this noble character, who was hidden from sight like the violet in the grass.""He is unquestionably her cousin-german," thought M.Moriaz.
"Only think," continued the abbe, "I have found M.Larinski all over again in Horace! Yes, Horace has represented him, trait for trait, in the person of Lollius.You know Marcus Lollius, to whom he addressed Ode ix.of book iv., and who was consul in the year 733 after the foundation of Rome.The resemblance is striking; pay attention!"Depositing his cup on the table he took the book in his right hand, and placing the forefinger of his left by turns on his lips or complacently following with it the lines of especial beauty in the text, he exclaimed: "Now what do you say to this? 'Thy soul is wise,'
wrote Horace to Lollius, 'and resists with the same constancy the temptations of happiness as those of adversity--/est animus tibi et secundis temporibus dubiisque rectus/.' Is not this Count Larinski?
