"Severely painful," I said, with truth. "Withdraw her hand, Monsieur; I can bear its inscribing force no more."
"Elle est toute pâle," said he, speaking to himself; "cette figure-là me fait mal."
"Ah! I am not pleasant to look at----?"
I could not help saying this; the words came unbidden: I never remember the time when I had not a haunting dread of what might be the degree of my outward deficiency; this dread pressed me at the moment with special force.
A great softness passed upon his countenance; his violet eyes grew suffused and glistening under their deep Spanish lashes: he started up; "Let us walk on."
"Do I displease your eyes much?" I took courage to urge: the point had its vital import for me.
He stopped, and gave me a short, strong answer; an answer which silenced, subdued, yet profoundly satisfied. Ever after that I knew what I was for him; and what I might be for the rest of the world, I ceased painfully to care. Was it weak to lay so much stress on an opinion about appearance? I fear it might be; I fear it was; but in that case I must avow no light share of weakness. I must own great fear of displeasing--a strong wish moderately to please M. Paul.
Whither we rambled, I scarce knew. Our walk was long, yet seemed short; the path was pleasant, the day lovely. M. Emanuel talked of his voyage--he thought of staying away three years. On his return from Guadaloupe, he looked forward to release from liabilities and a clear course; and what did I purpose doing in the interval of his absence? he asked. I had talked once, he reminded me, of trying to be independent and keeping a little school of my own: had I dropped the idea?
"Indeed, I had not: I was doing my best to save what would enable me to put it in practice."
"He did not like leaving me in the Rue Fossette; he feared I should miss him there too much--I should feel desolate--I should grow sad--?"
This was certain; but I promised to do my best to endure.
"Still," said he, speaking low, "there is another objection to your present residence. I should wish to write to you sometimes: it would not be well to have any uncertainty about the safe transmission of letters; and in the Rue Fossette--in short, our Catholic discipline in certain matters--though justifiable and expedient--might possibly, under peculiar circumstances, become liable to misapplication--perhaps abuse."