Gilbert tore his bosom with his nails to think that here he had kissed the hem of her robe with such reverence. Her condescension must spring from one of those fits of corruption recorded in the vile books which he had read – some freak of the senses.
But as he was going to invade the room again, a hand came out of the darkness and energetically grasped him by the arm.
"So I have caught you, base deceiver! Try to deny again that you love her and have an appointment with her!"
Gilbert had not the power to break from the clutch, though he might readily have done so, for it was only a girl's. Nicole Legay held him a prisoner.
"What do you want?" he said testily.
"Do you want me to speak out aloud?"
"No, no; be quiet," he stammered, dragging her out of the antechamber.
"Then follow me!" which was what Gilbert wanted, as this was removing Nicole from her mistress.
He could with a word have proved that while he might be guilty of loving the lady, the latter was not an accomplice; but the secret of Andrea was one that enriches a man, whether with love or lucre.
"Come to my room," she said; "who would surprise us there! Not my young lady, though she may well be jealous of her fine gallant! But folks in the secret are not to be dreaded. The honorable lady jealous of the servant, – I never expected such an honor! It is I who am jealous, for you love me no more."
In plainness, Nicole's bedroom did not differ from the others in that dwelling. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Gilbert on the dressing-case, which Andrea had given her maid.
Coming up the stairs, Nicole had calmed herself, but the youth felt anger rise as it cooled in the girl.
"So you love our young lady," began Nicole with a kindling eye. "You have love-trysts with her; or will you pretend you went only to consult the magician?"
"Perhaps so, for you know I feel ambition – "
"Greed, you mean?"
"It is the same thing, as you take it."
"Don't let us bandy words: you avoid me lately."
"I seek solitude – "
"And you want to go up into solitude by a ladder? Beg pardon, I did not know that was the way to it."
Gilbert was beaten in the first defenses.
"You had better out with it, that you love me no longer, or love us both."
"That would only be an error of society, for in some countries men have several wives."
"Savages!" exclaimed the servant, testily.
"Philosophers!" retorted Gilbert.
"But you would not like me to have two beaux on my string?"
"I do not wish tyrannically and unjustly to restrain the impulses of your heart. Liberty consists in respecting free will. So, change your affection, for fidelity is not natural – to some."
Discussion was the youth's strong point; he knew little, but more than the girl. So he began to regain coolness.
"Have you a good memory, Master Philosopher?" said Nicole. "Do you remember when I came back from the nunnery with mistress, and you consoled me, and taking me in your arms, said: 'You are an orphan like me; let us be brother and sister through similar misfortune.' Did you mean what you said?"
"Yes, then; but five months have changed me; I think otherwise at present."
"You mean you will not wed me? Yet Nicole Legay is worth a Gilbert, it seems to me."
"All men are equal; but nature or education improves or depreciates them. As their faculties or acquirements expand, they part from one another."
"I understand that we must part, and that you are a scamp. How ever could I fancy such a fellow?"
"Nicole, I am never going to marry, but be a learned man or a philosopher. Learning requires the isolation of the mind; philosophy that of the body."
"Master Gilbert, you are a scoundrel, and not worth a girl like me. But you laugh," she continued, with a dry smile more ominous than his satirical laugh; "do not make war with me; for I shall do such deeds that you will be sorry, for they will fall on your head, for having turned me astray."
"You are growing wiser; and I am convinced now that you would refuse me if I sued you."
Nicole reflected, clenching her hands and gritting her teeth.
"I believe you are right, Gilbert," she said; "I, too, see my horizon enlarge, and believe I am fated for better things than to be so mean as a philosopher's wife. Go back to your ladder, sirrah, and try not to break your neck, though I believe it would be a blessing to others, and may be for yourself."
Gilbert hesitated for a space in indecision, for Nicole, excited by love and spite, was a ravishing creature; but he had determined to break with her, as she hampered his passion and his aspirations.
"Gone," murmured Nicole in a few seconds.
She ran to the window, but all was dark. She went to her mistress' door, where she listened.
"She is asleep; but I will know all about it to-morrow."
It was broad day when Andrea de Taverney awoke.
In trying to rise, she felt such lassitude and sharp pain that she fell back on the pillow uttering a groan.
"Goodness, what is the matter?" cried Nicole, who had opened the curtains.
"I do not know. I feel lame all over; my chest seems broken in."
"It is the outbreak of the cold you caught last night," said the maid.
"Last night?" repeated the surprised lady; but she remarked the disorder of her room, and added: "Stay, I remember that I felt very tired – exhausted – it must have been the storm. I fell to sleep over my music. I recall nothing further. I went up hither half asleep, and must have thrown myself on the bed without undressing properly."
"You must have stayed very late at the music, then," observed Nicole, "for, before you retired to your bedroom I came down, having heard steps about – "
"But I did not stir from the parlor."
"Oh, of course, you know better than me," said Nicole.
"You must mistake," replied the other with the utmost sweetness: "I never left the seat; but I remember that I was cold, for I walked quite swiftly."
"When I saw you in the garden, however, you walked very freely."
"I, in the grounds? – you know I never go out after dark."
"I should think I knew my mistress by sight," said the maid, doubling her scrutiny; "I thought that you were taking a stroll with somebody."
"With whom would I be taking a stroll?" demanded Andrea, without seeing that her servant was putting her to an examination.
Nicole did not think it prudent to proceed, for the coolness of the hypocrite, as she considered her, frightened her. So she changed the subject.
"I hope you are not going to be sick, either with fatigue or sorrow. Both have the same effect. Ah, well I know how sorrows undermine!"
"You do? Have you sorrows, Nicole?"
"Indeed; I was coming to tell my mistress, when I was frightened to see how queer you looked; no doubt, we both are upset."
"Really!" queried Andrea, offended at the "we both."
"I am thinking of getting married."
"Why, you are not yet seventeen – "
"But you are sixteen and – "
She was going to say something saucy, but she knew Andrea too well to risk it, and cut short the explanation.
"Indeed, I cannot know what my mistress thinks, but I am low-born and I act according to my nature. It is natural to have a sweetheart."
"Oh,