But suddenly the viol player, who was a sly, facetious fellow, like all true artists, interrupted the music of the bourrée and played again, with malicious emphasis, the imperative trill. The new dancer was thereby enjoined to kiss his partner. Bénédict turned pale and lost his self-possession. Père Lhéry, terrified by the wrath which he saw blazing in the countess’s eyes, rushed to the musician and implored him to go on. But the fellow would not listen, enjoyed his triumph amid a chorus of laughter and bravos, and persisted in not resuming the air until after the indispensable formality had been complied with. The other dancers lost patience. Madame de Raimbault prepared to take her daughter away. But Monsieur de Lansac, a man of sense and spirit, realizing the utter absurdity of the scene, went to Bénédict again and said with a slightly sarcastic politeness :

“Well, monsieur, must I authorize you to assume a privilege of which I dared not take advantage ? You make your triumph complete.”

Bénédict pressed his trembling lips on the young countess’s soft cheeks. A thrill of pride and pleasure made his pulses throb for an instant ; but he noticed that Valentine, although blushing, laughed like a school-girl at the incident. He remembered that she blushed but did not laugh when Monsieur de Lansac kissed her hand. He said to himself that that handsome nobleman, so courteous, so clever, and so sensible, must have won her heart ; and he took no further pleasure in dancing with her, although she danced the bourrée marvellously well, with all the self-possession and unconstraint of a village damsel.

But Athénaïs displayed even more charm and coquetry in that dance; her beauty was of a type which is more generally popular. Men of mediocre education love the charms that allure, the eyes that invite, the smile that encourages. The young farmer’s daughter found in her very innocence a source of mischievous and piquant self-assurance. In an instant she was surrounded, and, as it were, kidnapped by her country admirers. Bénédict followed her about the ball for some little time. Then, being displeased to see her leave her mother and mingle with a swarm of young giddy-pates about whom clouds of swains were hovering, he tried to make her understand by signs and glances that she was abandoning herself too freely to her natural forwardness. Athénaïs did not see, or did not choose to see. Bénédict lost his temper, shrugged his shoulders and left the fête. He found his uncle’s man at the inn; he had come on the little gray mare that Bénédict usually rode. He told him to drive Monsieur Lhéry and his family home in the carriage, and, mounting his horse, rode off alone toward Grangeneuve just at nightfall.

V

Valentine, after thanking Bénédict with a graceful courtesy, left the dance, and, on returning to the countess, she understood from her pallor, the contraction of her lips and the sternness of her expression, that a storm was brewing against her in her mother’s revengeful heart. Monsieur de Lansac, who felt that he was responsible for his fiancée’s conduct, desired to spare her the first stinging reproaches, so he offered her his arm, and with her followed Madame de Raimbault at a short distance, while she dragged her mother-in-law away toward the place where the calèche was waiting. Valentine was trembling ; she was afraid of the wrath that was gathering over her head. Monsieur de Lansac, with the dexterous grace characteristic of his ready wit, sought to divert her thoughts, and, affecting to look upon what had happened as the merest trifle, undertook to pacify the countess. Valentine, grateful for the delicate consideration which seemed always to encompass her, without a trace of self-conceit or absurdity, felt a perceptible increase of the sincere affection which her future husband inspired in her.

Meanwhile the countess, enraged at having no one to quarrel with, attacked her mother-in-law the marchioness. As she did not find her people at the appointed spot, because they did not expect her so soon, she had to walk some distance over a dusty, stony road, a painful trial for feet which had trodden on velvet carpets in the apartments of Joséphine and Marie-Louise. The countess’s wrath waxed hotter ; she almost pushed away the old marchioness, who stumbled at every step and tried to lean on her arm.

“This is a lovely fête, a charming pleasure party !” said the countess. “It was you who insisted on coming ; you dragged me here against my will. You love the canaille, but I detest them. You have had a fine time, haven’t you ? Pray go into ecstasies over the delights of the country ! Don’t you find this heat very agreeable ?”

“Yes, yes,” replied the old woman, “I am eighty years old.”

“But I’m not; I am stifling. And this dust, and these stones that make holes in the soles of your feet! It is all most delightful!”

“But, my love, is it my fault if it’s hot, if the roads are bad, if you are out of temper ?”

“Out of temper ! you never are, of course, I can understand that, as you pay no attention to anything and let your family act as God pleases.