"Well, I must tell you that the day before yesterday your aunt came to
see my mother while I was away, and there and then formally requested my
hand in marriage for the noble Count Daniel Kiusko. My mother related
this to me this morning, when I got up."
"And what did you answer her?"
"Oh, I laughed at first, and then I told mamma that she must inform you
at once, so that you may decide upon the manner in which she shall
repulse the enemy."
"That's simple enough," said I. "She has only to tell my aunt, when next
she calls, that she has consulted you."
"Is it as simple as that?"
"Certainly," I said, with a feeling of annoyance at the idea that she
knew of Daniel's love. "Is it not solely your will that has to be
consulted?"
Kondjé-Gul regarded me with astonishment.
"My will?" she said. "Good heavens! do you love me no longer?"
"Why should you imagine I love you no longer?" I answered.
"One might suppose that you wished to remind me of that horrible liberty
which I am so much afraid of."
I then realised how stupid and abrupt I had been, and asked her
forgiveness.
"You naughty fellow!" she said, pointing to the golden bracelet clasped
round her arm.
We decided that I should go to her mother to concert with her and
dictate to her the precise terms of a refusal which should cut short all
Kiusko's hopes. We were just then emerging from the narrow avenue, and
Maud and Edward were joining us again. Our ride came to an end without
any other incident of note, except indeed that it appeared to me Daniel
was watching Kondjé and myself, as if he wanted to guess what had taken
place during our tête-à-tête, which he had observed from a distance. I
troubled myself no further about this, but made up my mind to take
measures that very day to put an end to this stupid adventure.
About three o'clock I went to Téral House, and in an interview with
Kondjé-Gul's mother drew up the precise terms of her answer to my aunt,
which consisted of a formula usually employed on similar occasions.
"Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul feels greatly flattered by the honour which
Count Daniel Kiusko has intended to confer upon her, but is unable to
accept it." To this we added, in order to convince him it was not one of
those half-decisive answers which he might hope to overcome: "She
desires to inform their friend confidentially that her heart is no
longer free, and that she is engaged to one of her relations." This
partly-confidential answer possessed the merits of a candid
communication, after receiving which no honourable man could press her
without giving offence. Moreover, it established a definite status,
under which Kondjé-Gul could shelter herself for the future from all
importunate attempts on the part of my rival.