He was uniformly courteous
and gentle, acquiescing in her little plans whenever he could do
so, and expressing a suitable degree of regret when he was
prevented from joining her by some previous engagement. But the
image of the French Zouave was ever present with him. He could not
get rid of Gouache's dark, delicate features, even in his dreams;
the sound of the man's pleasant voice and of his fluent
conversation was constantly in his ears, and he could not look at
Corona without fancying how she would look if Anastase were beside
her whispering tender speeches.
All the time, he submitted with a good grace to do whatever she
proposed, and on this afternoon he found himself waiting for her
beside the band-stand. At first he watched the passing carriages
indifferently enough, supposing that his own liveries would
presently loom up in the long line of high-seated coachmen and
lacqueys, and having no especial desire to see them. His position
when in Corona's company grew every day more difficult, and he
thought as he stood by the stone pillar at the corner that he
would on the whole be glad if she did not come. He was egregiously
mistaken in himself, however. As the minutes passed he grew
uneasy, and watched the advancing carriages with a feverish
anxiety, saying to himself that every one must bring Corona, and
actually growing pale with emotion as each vehicle turned the
distant corner and came into view.
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