(A conversation between lovers is a very commonplace affair. It is a perpetual "I love you." A musical phrase which is very insipid and very bald for indifferent listeners, when it is not ornamented with some _fioriture_; but Claude was not an indifferent listener.)
"Oh!" said the young girl, without raising her eyes, "do not despise me, monseigneur Phoebus. I feel that what I am doing is not right."
"Despise you, my pretty child!" replied the officer with an air of superior and distinguished gallantry, "despise you, _tete-Dieu_! and why?"
"For having followed you!"
"On that point, my beauty, we don"t agree. I ought not to despise you, but to hate you."
The young girl looked at him in affright: "Hate me! what have I done?"
"For having required so much urging."
"Alas!" said she, ""tis because I am breaking a vow. I shall not find my parents! The amulet will lose its virtue. But what matters it? What need have I of father or mother now?"
So saying, she fixed upon the captain her great black eyes, moist with joy and tenderness.
"Devil take me if I understand you!" exclaimed Phoebus. La Esmeralda remained silent for a moment, then a tear dropped from her eyes, a sigh from her lips, and she said,--"Oh! monseigneur, I love you."
Such a perfume of chast.i.ty, such a charm of virtue surrounded the young girl, that Phoebus did not feel completely at his ease beside her. But this remark emboldened him: "You love me!" he said with rapture, and he threw his arm round the gypsy"s waist. He had only been waiting for this opportunity.
The priest saw it, and tested with the tip of his finger the point of a poniard which he wore concealed in his breast.
"Phoebus," continued the Bohemian, gently releasing her waist from the captain"s tenacious hands, "You are good, you are generous, you are handsome; you saved me, me who am only a poor child lost in Bohemia. I had long been dreaming of an officer who should save my life. "Twas of you that I was dreaming, before I knew you, my Phoebus; the officer of my dream had a beautiful uniform like yours, a grand look, a sword; your name is Phoebus; "tis a beautiful name. I love your name; I love your sword. Draw your sword, Phoebus, that I may see it."
"Child!" said the captain, and he unsheathed his sword with a smile.
The gypsy looked at the hilt, the blade; examined the cipher on the guard with adorable curiosity, and kissed the sword, saying,--
"You are the sword of a brave man. I love my captain." Phoebus again profited by the opportunity to impress upon her beautiful bent neck a kiss which made the young girl straighten herself up as scarlet as a poppy. The priest gnashed his teeth over it in the dark.
"Phoebus," resumed the gypsy, "let me talk to you. Pray walk a little, that I may see you at full height, and that I may hear your spurs jingle. How handsome you are!"
The captain rose to please her, chiding her with a smile of satisfaction,--
"What a child you are! By the way, my charmer, have you seen me in my archer"s ceremonial doublet?"
"Alas! no," she replied.
"It is very handsome!"
Phoebus returned and seated himself beside her, but much closer than before.
"Listen, my dear--"
The gypsy gave him several little taps with her pretty hand on his mouth, with a childish mirth and grace and gayety.
"No, no, I will not listen to you. Do you love me? I want you to tell me whether you love me."
"Do I love thee, angel of my life!" exclaimed the captain, half kneeling. "My body, my blood, my soul, all are thine; all are for thee.
I love thee, and I have never loved any one but thee."
The captain had repeated this phrase so many times, in many similar conjunctures, that he delivered it all in one breath, without committing a single mistake. At this pa.s.sionate declaration, the gypsy raised to the dirty ceiling which served for the skies a glance full of angelic happiness.
"Oh!" she murmured, "this is the moment when one should die!"
Phoebus found "the moment" favorable for robbing her of another kiss, which went to torture the unhappy archdeacon in his nook. "Die!"
exclaimed the amorous captain, "What are you saying, my lovely angel?
"Tis a time for living, or Jupiter is only a scamp! Die at the beginning of so sweet a thing! _Corne-de-boeuf_, what a jest! It is not that.
Listen, my dear Similar, Esmenarda--Pardon! you have so prodigiously Saracen a name that I never can get it straight. "Tis a thicket which stops me short."
"Good heavens!" said the poor girl, "and I thought my name pretty because of its singularity! But since it displeases you, I would that I were called Goton."
"Ah! do not weep for such a trifle, my graceful maid! "tis a name to which one must get accustomed, that is all. When I once know it by heart, all will go smoothly. Listen then, my dear Similar; I adore you pa.s.sionately. I love you so that "tis simply miraculous. I know a girl who is bursting with rage over it--"
The jealous girl interrupted him: "Who?"
"What matters that to us?" said Phoebus; "do you love me?"
"Oh!"--said she.
"Well! that is all. You shall see how I love you also. May the great devil Neptunus spear me if I do not make you the happiest woman in the world. We will have a pretty little house somewhere. I will make my archers parade before your windows. They are all mounted, and set at defiance those of Captain Mignon. There are _voulgiers, cranequiniers_ and hand _couleveiniers_*. I will take you to the great sights of the Parisians at the storehouse of Rully. Eighty thousand armed men, thirty thousand white harnesses, short coats or coats of mail; the sixty-seven banners of the trades; the standards of the parliaments, of the chamber of accounts, of the treasury of the generals, of the aides of the mint; a devilish fine array, in short! I will conduct you to see the lions of the Hotel du Roi, which are wild beasts. All women love that."
* Varieties of the crossbow.
For several moments the young girl, absorbed in her charming thoughts, was dreaming to the sound of his voice, without listening to the sense of his words.
"Oh! how happy you will be!" continued the captain, and at the same time he gently unbuckled the gypsy"s girdle.
"What are you doing?" she said quickly. This "act of violence" had roused her from her revery.
"Nothing," replied Phoebus, "I was only saying that you must abandon all this garb of folly, and the street corner when you are with me."
"When I am with you, Phoebus!" said the young girl tenderly.
She became pensive and silent once more.
The captain, emboldened by her gentleness, clasped her waist without resistance; then began softly to unlace the poor child"s corsage, and disarranged her tucker to such an extent that the panting priest beheld the gypsy"s beautiful shoulder emerge from the gauze, as round and brown as the moon rising through the mists of the horizon.
The young girl allowed Phoebus to have his way. She did not appear to perceive it. The eye of the bold captain flashed.
Suddenly she turned towards him,--
"Phoebus," she said, with an expression of infinite love, "instruct me in thy religion."
"My religion!" exclaimed the captain, bursting with laughter, "I instruct you in my religion! _Corne et tonnerre_! What do you want with my religion?"