The result of all this was that Anna Campbell exhibited a pleasant sort
of familiarity with my aunt and uncle which I did not at all expect to
see. Brought up away from each other, and without any previous
acquaintance, we were now meeting for the first time at this common
centre of our affections, which, unknown to us, had united us since our
childhood. This was both original and sweet to think of.
Once, when my uncle asked for the pickles, Anna said: "They are near André."
When the meal was over we left the dining-room. Following a Russian
fashion which my aunt had introduced among us, when we entered the
drawing-room, I pressed her hand to my lips, while she kissed me on the
forehead. Anna did the same; then, without even appearing to think what
she was doing, she quietly held up her two cheeks for me to kiss, and
afterwards offered them to her godfather. She then ran to the piano, and
sat down to it, while we were taking our coffee.
"Well, what do you think of her?" my uncle asked me.
"She is very nice," I replied.
"Yes, isn't she? Just the thing for you, my boy," he observed, as he
stirred his cup, with the tranquillity of a pure conscience. "Go and
talk with her," he continued; "you will find she is not stupid."
I went to sit down by Anna.
"Come, play the bass!" she said, moving aside to make room for me, as if
we had often played in duet together before.
When the piece was finished, we talked about her convent, her friends,
and the Mother Superior, Sainte Lucie, whom she was much attached to;
and she spoke about everything in a confident tone of familiarity, which
showed me that she had often talked of me, and had been used to think of
me as an absent brother. The understanding is that, on account of her
youth, our betrothal is to remain a family secret, which will only be
made public when the right time arrives.
The evening concluded without any other special incident. At ten o'clock
Anna went home to her convent. As she was putting her things on, she
held out her hand to me, and said: "Good-bye, André!"
"Good-bye, Anna!" I replied; and then my uncle took me away with him to
the club, where he sat down to his party at whist.
While I am on the subject of my uncle, I must tell you about an
adventure which he has just had. He is dead, as you are aware, for I
have inherited his property. This privilege he will not give up,
because the registration fees have been paid. The result of this
peculiar situation is that he is under certain legal incapacities,
which, without troubling him more seriously, do nevertheless cause him
some annoyance. Three months ago at Férouzat, he had to renew his
gun-license, which he had taken out seven years before; but as his
decease had been formally entered at the prefecture, they would not
accept this document, bearing the signature of a defunct person. As you
may imagine, he did very well without it, and began to shoot as if
nothing had happened!