This was a day when women were treated with a great show of
deference, while in reality they had but little voice in the world's
affairs. De Casimir's bow was deeper and more elaborate than would
be considered polite to-day. On standing erect he quickly
suppressed a glance of surprise.
Mathilde must have expected him. She was dressed in white, and her
hair was tied with a bright ribbon. In her cheeks, usually so pale,
was a little touch of colour. It may have been because Desiree was
not near, but de Casimir had never known until this moment how
pretty Mathilde really was. There was something in her eyes, too,
which gripped his attention. He remembered that at the wedding he
had never seen her eyes. They had always been averted. But now
they met his with a troubling directness.
De Casimir had a gallant manner. All women commanded his eager
respect, which they could assess at such value as their fancy
painted, remembering that it is for the woman to measure the
distance. On the few occasions of previous encounters, de Casimir
had been empresse in his manner towards Mathilde. As he looked at
her, his quick mind ran back to former meetings. He had no
recollection of having actually made love to her.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "for a soldier--in time of war--the
conventions may, perhaps, be slightly relaxed. I was told that you
were alone--that your father is out, and yet I persisted--"
He spread out his hands and laughed appealingly, begging her, it
would seem, to help him out of the social difficulty in which he
found himself.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76