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Page 57
"There are at least some exceptions," said Lucan, coldly.
"I know of none," said Julia.
"Mon Dieu!" said the Count de Moras in a tone of conciliation, "right or
wrong, it is quite the fashion, nowadays, to spoil children."
"It is a criminal fashion," said Lucan. "Formerly their parents whipped
them, and thus made men of them."
"When a man has such a disposition as that," said Julia, "he does not
deserve to have any children--and he has none!" she added with a direct
look that further aggravated the unkind and even cruel intention of her
words.
Monsieur de Lucan turned very pale. Clotilde's eyes filled with tears.
Julia, embarrassed at her triumph, left the room. Her mother, after
remaining for a few moments, her face covered with her hands, rose from
the table and went to join her.
"Now, _mon cher_," said Monsieur de Moras as soon as he found himself
alone with Lucan, "what the mischief took place between you two last
night? You did tell me something about it this morning, but I was so much
absorbed in my own selfish preoccupations, that I paid no attention to it.
But tell me, what did take place between you?"
"Nothing serious. Only I was able to satisfy myself that she had not yet
forgiven my occupying a place which, according to her ideas, should never
have been filled."
"What would you advise me to do, George?" rejoined Monsieur de Moras. "I
am ready to do whatever you say.
"My dear friend," said Lucan, laying gently his hands upon Pierre's
shoulders, "don't be offended, but life in common, under such conditions,
becomes a very difficult matter. It is best not to wait until some
irreparable scene. In Paris we will be able to see each other without
difficulty. I advise you to take her away."
"Suppose she is not willing."
"I should speak firmly," said Lucan, looking him straight in the eyes; "I
have some work to do this evening; it happens well and will give you a
good opportunity. In the meantime, _au revoir_."
Monsieur de Lucan locked himself up in his library. An hour later,
Clotilde came to join him.
He could see that she had wept a great deal; but she held out her forehead
to him with her sweetest smile. While he was kissing her, she murmured
simply and in a whisper:
"Forgive her for my sake!"
And the charming creature withdrew in haste to hide her emotions.
The next morning, Monsieur de Lucan, who, as usual, had risen quite early,
had been writing for some time near the library window, which opened at
quite a moderate height on the garden. He was not a little surprised to
see his step-daughter's face appear among the honeysuckle vines that crept
over the iron trellis of the balcony:
"Monsieur," she said in her most melodious tone, "are you very busy?"
"Oh, not at all!" he replied, rising at the same time.
"It's because, you see, the weather is perfectly delightful," she said.
"Will you come and take a walk with me?"
"Of course I will."
"Well, come then. Good Heavens! how sweet this honeysuckle does smell!"
And she snatched off a few flowers, which she threw to Lucan through the
window, with a burst of laughter. He fastened them in his button-hole,
making the gesture of a man who understands nothing of what is going on,
but who has no reason to be angry.
He found her in fresh morning costume, stamping upon the sand with her
light and impatient foot.
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