Our happiness seemed so assured, and we had it so completely under our
own control, that it would have appeared absurd for us to imagine it to
be at the mercy of Fate. Still, in the midst of this tranquillity there
sometimes arose in my mind an anxious thought. Light clouds floated
across my clear azure sky, and often, as I sat by her side, I began to
think, in spite of myself, about the future--about this marriage of
which you yourself have reminded me, and from the obligations to which
nothing could save me. However great the sacrifice might be, I could not
even think of failing to carry out my uncle's wishes in this matter. My
heart bound me to this adoptive father who had placed unlimited faith in
my loyalty: my whole life was pledged to this chivalrous benefactor who
had left all his fortune in my hands, nor could I permit the least
suspicion of ingratitude on my part to pass over his mind.
But melancholy as was the recollection of this duty to which I had
resigned myself, I must confess that, after all, this impression was but
a fugitive one. I no longer attempted to struggle against the temptation
to a compromise, by means of which I had determined to reconcile my
passion for Kondjé-Gul with my marital duties to Anna Campbell. The
retiring nature of the latter would surely permit our union to be
treated as one of those arrangements known as mariages de convenance,
and my charming romantic connection with Kondjé-Gul would always remain
a secret. Moreover, my uncle, should he ever discover this after-match
of my oriental life, was certainly not the man to be seriously
scandalised at it, directly he assured himself that "the
respectabilities" had not been violated.
By-the-bye, I should tell you that was a false alarm I sounded about my
uncle! I calumniated him when I believed him to have committed anything
so shocking as a double adultery.
We went again yesterday to the forest of Meudon, which we had almost
given up visiting of late, my uncle having been engaged for the last
fortnight upon "some important morning business," as he says. Well, we
arrived at Villebon's restaurant, our usual destination. When we entered
that celebrated room--empty this time--which had been the scene of the
drama which you remember, the latter came back very naturally to our
memory, and would have done so even without the superfluous aid of the
grins with which our waiter greeted us. Equally naturally, and as
becomes a dutiful nephew, who does not wish to appear indifferent to
family matters, I, seeing my uncle cast a glance towards the window near
which the incident that produced such momentous consequences occurred,
took the opportunity of asking after my pseudo-aunt Christina, about
whom I had not had any previous chance of questioning him.