This is my reward, is it, for
having yielded and having come here, against all the laws of
etiquette, the night before the marriage? I comply no longer; I
resume my own will and my own way. I order you, my son, to
accompany me back to Rouen. We are the bridegroom's party, and we
have no business overnight at the house of the bride. You meet no
more till you meet at the church. Justin, my coach! Lomaque, pick
up my hood. Monsieur Trudaine, thanks for your hospitality; I
shall hope to return it with interest the first time you are in
our neighborhood. Mademoiselle, put on your best looks to-morrow,
along with your wedding finery; remember that my son's bride must
do honor to my son's taste. Justin! my coach--drone, vagabond,
idiot, where is my coach?"
"My mother looks handsome when she is in a passion, does she not,
Rose?" said Danville, quietly putting up his snuff-box as the old
lady sailed out of the room. "Why, you seem quite frightened,
love," he added, taking her hand with his easy, graceful air;
"frightened, let me assure you, without the least cause. My
mother has but that one prejudice, and that one weak point, Rose.
You will find her a very dove for gentleness, as long as you do
not wound her pride of caste. Come, come, on this night, of all
others, you must not send me away with such a face as that."
He bent down and whispered to her a bridegroom's compliment,
which brought the blood back to her cheek in an instant.
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