"Not angry, Suzanne, but greatly worried and alarmed."
"Alarmed! Alarmed about what?"
"The effect of your nephew"s presence in this house."
"Had I foreseen that it would be disagreeable to you, I would not have sent for the poor boy; but he was so unhappy, and I knew your kindness of heart so well, that I thought I might take the liberty--"
"You have rendered too valuable service to each and every member of my family, Suzanne, for your relatives not to have a right to my interest and a.s.sistance. What I reproach you for is a great imprudence."
"Excuse me, monsieur, but I do not understand."
"Your nephew is young?"
"Twenty-five."
"He is well educated?"
"Too well for his position, monsieur. My poor sister and her husband made great sacrifices for him. His sight being so poor, they gave him an excellent education in the hope he might enter the clergy, but Onesime felt that he had no calling that way, so there was nothing for him to do but secure a clerkship."
"I know the rest, but how about his personal appearance? What kind of a looking young man is he?"
"The poor fellow is neither handsome nor ugly, monsieur. He has a very kind and gentle manner, but his extreme near-sightedness gives him a rather scared look. He is really the best-hearted boy that ever lived.
Ask mademoiselle, and see what she will tell you."
"Really, Suzanne, such blindness on your part amazes me."
"Such blindness, monsieur?"
"Is it possible, Suzanne, that you, who are a person of so much experience and good sense, have not felt, I will not say the impropriety, but the grave imprudence there is in having your nephew under the same roof with my daughter, and allowing them to live in the extremely intimate relations of such a secluded existence as you lead here?"
"I know that I am only a servant, monsieur, and that my nephew--"
"That is not the question at all. Have not I and my daughter always striven to prove that we regarded you as a friend, and not as a servant?"
"Then I do not understand the cause of your reproaches."
"And that is very unfortunate, for if you had been more clear-sighted, you would long since have discovered what has happened."
"Good Heavens! what has happened, monsieur?"
"Sabine loves your nephew."
"Mademoiselle!"
"She loves him, I tell you."
"Mademoiselle loves Onesime! Monsieur cannot be in earnest. It is impossible."
"Impossible, and why?"
"Because the poor boy is as timid as a girl; because he is not at all good-looking; because he sees very badly, a defect that makes him commit twenty blunders a day, at which mademoiselle is not unfrequently the first to laugh. He does not resemble a hero of romance in the least. Oh, no, monsieur, you need feel no anxiety on that score. Mademoiselle has always been very kind and considerate to Onesime, because he is my nephew, and she pitied him, but--"
"Ah, blind woman that you are, not to have foreseen that, in a person of Sabine"s character, in a person of her extreme sensibility and angelic kindness of heart, pity was almost certain to lead to a more tender sentiment,--as it has!"
"Can it be possible that mademoiselle would condescend to look at a poor fellow like Onesime?"
"It is precisely because he is poor and helpless and timid, and because his infirmity places him in such an exceptional and painful position, that Sabine was almost certain to love him, and you, who know her as well as I do, should have foreseen this. I hope to Heaven that your blindness may not prove disastrous in its consequences."
"Ah, monsieur," responded the housekeeper, contritely, "your words enlighten me, now, when it is too late. But no, I cannot believe what you have just told me. Mlle. Sabine has not admitted that she loves Onesime, has she?"
"Oh, no; she has not admitted it, but I am satisfied of the fact. She is so candid and so sincere that one can read her heart as one reads an open book. She does love him, I tell you, and this destroys all the plans I had formed. But what is the matter? Why are you sobbing so?
Suzanne, Suzanne, get up," cried Cloarek, seeing the housekeeper throw herself at his feet.
"I have such a dreadful fear."
"Explain."
"Good Heavens, monsieur, what if you should suppose that in asking my nephew here I was actuated by a desire to interest mademoiselle in him, and so bring about a marriage between them!"
"Suzanne, you do me a gross injustice by supposing me capable of such a suspicion."
"Tell me, oh, tell me that you do not believe me capable of such a thing."
"I repeat that you have been thoughtless and imprudent. That is all, and that is enough; but as for accusing you of any such shameful plotting, that would be utterly absurd on my part. I understand, too, how certain peculiarities in your nephew"s character seemed a sufficient guarantee against any such possibility, and that you never suspected that any such danger could threaten my daughter."
"Alas! that is the truth, monsieur. I didn"t consider Onesime any more dangerous than an infant."
"I believe you, but the evil is done, nevertheless."
"But it can be repaired. Onesime shall leave the house at daybreak, to-morrow morning, and never set foot in it again."
"And Sabine? His sudden departure would grieve her terribly, it might even kill her, weak and nervous as she is,--for she is her poor dear mother over again, in her sensitiveness and extreme susceptibility."
"_Mon Dieu_, I see, I see! How culpable I have been!" sobbed the governess. "What are we to do, monsieur? What are we to do?"
"I have no idea myself."
"Cloarek paced the room in silence several minutes, then he asked, suddenly:
"Where is your nephew?"
"In the Blue Boom, monsieur. I told him to wait there until I could let him know the result of my interview with you."
"Send him to me."
"Here, monsieur?"
"Yes."