THE ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN.
15
" No, no, do not attempt it—it is very far
from here—and besides I have always heard
the river was deep and dangerous below  the
fell "
"' Be tranquil, mademoiselle ; I am prudent."
As I spoke, I threw my jacket on the grass,
and plunged into the lake, taking care to keep
a certain distance from the fall. The water
was really very deep, for I did not touch bot-
tom till the moment I reached the suffering
dog. I do not know whether there had for-
merly been a little island here which had been
gradually washed away, or if the river had
deposited here some fragment from the high
bank, but certainly a thick tangle of brambles
and roots were concealed and growing under
the perfidious water. I placed my feet on one
ofthe stumps from which they seemed to grow,
and succeeded in freeing Mervyn ; as soon as
he was master of his movements, he swam
without delay toward the bank, abandoning
me with all his heart. This trait was not in
conformity with the chivalrous reputation en-
joyed by his species ; but the good Mervyn had
always lived among men, and I suppose he had
become a philosopher.
When I attempted to take a leap in order to
follow him, I found with vexation that I was
cauo-ht in my turn in the net of the jealous and
wicked Naiad, who apparently reigns in this
latitude. One of my legs was entangled in
knots of the vine, which I vainly tried to break.
One is not sufficiently at ease in deep water,
and on a slimy bottom, to employ all one s
strength ; I was, besides, half-blinded by the
spray of the dashing, foaming water. In short,
I felt that my situation became more and more
critical. I looked up at the bank : Mlle. Mar-
guerite was clinging to Alain's arm, and bend-
ing over the whirlpool, watching me with a look
of mortal anxiety. I said to myself, that per-
haps nothing more remained for me m the world
hut to be wept by those beautiful eyes to give
an enviable termination to a worthless lite.
But I shook off those weak thoughts ; with a
violent effort I disengaged myself, and tying
the little tattered handkerchief around my neck,
swam easily to tho shore.
As I reached the bank, Mlle. Marguerite held
out her hand ; it trembled violently m mine.
" What madness !" said she ; " what madness
You might have died there '.—and for a dog !
" It was yours," I replied to her in the same
low tone that she had used. This seemed to
annoy her ; she withdrew her hand quickly from
mine, and turning to Mervyn drying himself
in the sun, began to caress him: Oh, the
simpleton! the great simpleton!" said she;
" what a stupid fellow !"
The water ran off me down upon the grass
in streams, as if out of a watering pet, and I
did not know what to do with myself,when Mile.
Marguerite said with great sweetness : • Mon-
sieuf Maximilian, take the boat and go home
quickly; the rowing will warm you a little. 1
will return through the forest with Alain ; the
road is much shorter than the river.
This arrangement seeming to me the fittest
în all respects, I did not object to it.    I bowed
and had for the second time the  pleasure of
touching the hand of Mervyn's mistress, before
stepping into the boat.                   .
On making my toilet after reaching home, 1
was surprised to find the little torn handker-
chief round my neck, which I had entirely for-
gotten to return to Mlle. Marguerite. She cer-
tainly believed it to be lost, and I had no scru-
ples  in  retaining it as the price «of my wet
3°TwTnt to the chateau that evening ; Mile.
Laroque received me with the air of haughty
indolence, of grave abstraction, and ot bitter
ennui, which is habitual to her, and which
formed a singular contrast to the graceful good
nature and agreeable vivacity of my monung
companion. During the dinner, at which M.
de Bévallan was present, she spoke ot our ex-
cursion as if to deprive it of all appearance of
mystery ; she flung some sharp jests at all lov-
ers of nature, and finished by recounting Mer-
vyn's misadventure, but suppressed all my
share in this last episode. If this reservation
•sras intended, as I believe it was, to give the
tone to my own discretion, the young lady took
very needless trouble. Let it be as it might,
when the recital was ended, M. de Bévallan
deafened us by his exclamations of despair.
"What! Mile. Marguerite had suffered such
prolonged anxiety, tho brave Mervyn had in-
curred such peril, and he, Bévallan, was not
there ! He could never console himself, there
was nothing for him to do but to hang himself
like Crillon !"
" Well ! if there were nobody but me to take
him down," said old Alain to me, as he lighted
me home that night, "I should not worry
about it."
Yesterday did not commence as gayly tor me
as the preceding day. I received a letter from
Madrid early in the morning commissioning
me to announce to Mile. Porhoet the definite
loss of her suit. The agent informed me,
moreover, that the family who were defendants
iu tho cause, would not profit by their present
triumph, for they now found themselves in-
volved in a suit with the government, whose
attention had been roused by the noise made
about these millions, and which maintained
that the estate in litigation belonged to the
Crown by escheatage. After reflecting a long
time, it seemed to me an act of charity to con-
ceal from my old friend the utter rum of her
hopes. I would make her Spanish agent an
accomplice in my designs; he should invent
pretexts for new delays; on my side, I would
pursue my researches in her archives, and 1
would do all that lay in my power to have the
poor womam continue, to her last hour, to
cherish her dear illusions. \But however legiti-
mate the character of this deception might be,
I felt a desire to have it sanctioned by some
tender conscience.
I went to the chateau in the afternoon and
made my confession to Madame Laroque ; she
approved of my plan, and praised me even
more than the occasion seemed to me to require.
It was with great surprise that I heard her
close our conversation by these words : 1 his
is a proper time to tell you, monsieur, that 1
am deeply grateful for your solicitude for our
welfare ; and each day I have more pleasure in
your company, more regard for you. 1 could
wish, monsieur—I beg your pardon, for you
can hardly share this wish—I could wish that
we might never be separated. I humbly pray
heaven to perform all the miracles essential to
gain this end—for I do not hide from myself
that miracles would be necessary.
I could not seize the precise meaning ot this
language any more than I could explain to my-
self the sudden emotion which shone m this
excellent woman's eyes. I thanked her very
properly, and went across the fields to dissipate
my sadness by walking.
TAccident—about which there was nothing
strange,   I   frankly   confess—led me after an
hour's walk, into the the retired valley, upon
the borders of the basin which had been the
theatre of. my late exploits.    The amphithea-
tre of foliage and the rocks surrounding the
little lake realize one's ideal of solitude.    One
can fancy himself at the end ofthe world, m a
virgin country, in China or wherever he wishes.
I stretched myself upon the heather, and lived
over again, in imagination, all the events ot
the preceding day ; such a day as never comes
twice in the course ofthe longest life.   I already
felt that a like day  of happiness, if it were
offered to me a second time, would not possess
for me the same charm of serenity and, to speak
the word, of innocence.    I needed to tell my-
self  that this sweet,   youthful romance could
have but one chapter, one page even, and 1 had
read it.    Yes, this hour, this hour of love, to
call it by its right name, had been supremely
sweet, because it had not been premeditated,
because I had tasted its intoxication without be-
ing conscious of it !    Now my conscience was
awakened ; I saw myself on the verge of an im-
possible, ridiculous love—worse than that—a
7uilty love !    It was time to watch over my-
sVlf, poor disinherited man that I am.
was giving myself these counsels m this sol-
itary place—it had certainly not been very es-
sential to come here to do ft-when a murmur-
ing ¦:»f voices suddenly roused me from my ab-
straction. I partly rose, and saw advancing
toward me a party of five or six persons, who
had come here by boat. First came Mae. Mar-
guerite leaning on M. de Bévallan's arm, then
Mile. Helouin and Madame Aubry, followed by
Alain and Mervyn. The noise of their approach
had been covered by the rumbling of the water-^
fall ; they were scarcely three steps from me,
and I had no time to retreat ; but had to bear
the disagreeableness of being surprised m my
reclining attitude. My presence in this place
excited no particular attention : only I fancied
I sawa shade of displeasure pass over Mile. Mar-
guerite's face, and she returned my salutation
with marked stiffness.
M. de Bévallon placed himself on the edge
of the basin, and wearied the echoes for some
time with the stupid outbursts of his admira-
ration : " Delicious ! picturesque ! how dehght-
ft,l l t.b« Tien of George Sand ! the pen of Sal
ration.      i/ouuvuo. ^.v.».™»—,            rï ,
fui ! the pen of George Sandl the pen of Sal-
vator Rosa !—accompanying it all with the
most energetic gestures. At length he grew
calm, and begged to be shown the place where
Mervyn so nearly perished. Mile. Marguerite
recounted anew the adventure, observing, how-
ever, the same silence respecting my part m it.
She even insisted with a sort of hard-hearted-
ness on the bravery and presence of mind dis-
played by her dog, according to her report, on
that occasion. She apparently supposed that
her short-lived kindness, and the service I had
the good fortune to render her, had filled my
brain with fancies which it was necessary to
chock
Madame Aubry  and Mile.  Helouin mani-
fested so lively a desire to see Mervyn repeat
his boasted  performances   before them,   that
Mile. Marguerite called the Newfoundland, and
threw her handkerchief into the water as on
the preceding day ; but at this signal, the brave
Mervyn, in place of jumping into the lake ran
along the edge of the bank, coming and going
with a distracted air, barking furiously, wag-
ging his tail, giving indeed a thousand proofs
of a lively interest, but also of an excellent
memory.     Reason decidedly governs the heart
of this animal.    It was in vain that Mile. Mar-
guerite, angry and confused, employed caresses
and menaces by turns to subdue the obstinacy
of her favorite ; nothing could persuade the in-
telligent beast to trust anew his precious body
to these redoubtable waters.    After such pom-
pous announcements the wilful prudence of the
intrepid Mervyn had something really comical
in it ; I had, as I thought, a better right than
any one to laugh at it, and I did not hesitate to
do so.    The laughter soon became general, and
Mile. Marguerite ended by joining feebly in it
li Al" S61T.
With all that," said she, "there is another
handkerchief lost."
The handkerchief, drawn by the constant
movement of the eddies, had naturally been
caught by the fatal brambles, at a short dis-
tance from the opposite hank.           ..,AA
" Trust to me, mademoiselle," cried M. de
Bévallan; "in ten minutes you shall have
your handkerchief, or I shall be no more.
On hearing this declaration, Mile. Margue-
rite stealthily gave me an expressive glance, as
if to say—" You see that devotion to me is not
so rare!" Then she said to M. de Bévallan,
" For God's sake, do not be foolish ! the water
is very deep—there is real danger."
" That is all the same to me," replied M. de
Bévallan.    " Alain, have you a knife ?"
"A knife?" repeated Mlle. Marguerite, in a
tone' of surprise.
" Yes.    Let me alone—let me alone.
" But what do you intend to do with akmfe?
"I  intend to cut a long pole," said M. de
Bévallan.                             ,,r.\.      u»
The young girl looked at him.   "1 thought,
she murmured, "that you were going to swim.
"Oh! to swim!" said M. de Bévallan;
" excuse me, mademoiselle—in the first place
I am not in swimming costume ; then, I con-
fess, I do not know how to swim."
"If you do not know how to swim," sne
replied, in a dry tone, " it matters very little
whether you are in swimming costume or not !
" That is perfectly true," said M. de Bévallan,
with amusing tranquillity ; " but you are not