He had,
therefore, persistently kept a silence to which his looks, his
behavior, and his smallest actions gave the lie.
On her side, the self-respect natural to a young girl, augmented in
Mademoiselle de Fontaine by the monstrous vanity founded on her birth
and beauty, kept her from meeting the declaration half-way, which her
growing passion sometimes urged her to invite. Thus the lovers had
instinctively understood the situation without explaining to each
other their secret motives. There are times in life when such
vagueness pleases youthful minds. Just because each had postponed
speaking too long, they seemed to be playing a cruel game of suspense.
He was trying to discover whether he was beloved, by the effort any
confession would cost his haughty mistress; she every minute hoped
that he would break a too respectful silence.
Emilie, seated on a rustic bench, was reflecting on all that had
happened in these three months full of enchantment. Her father's
suspicions were the last that could appeal to her; she even disposed
of them at once by two or three of those reflections natural to an
inexperienced girl, which, to her, seemed conclusive. Above all, she
was convinced that it was impossible that she should deceive herself.
All the summer through she had not been able to detect in Maximilien a
single gesture, or a single word, which could indicate a vulgar origin
or vulgar occupations; nay more, his manner of discussing things
revealed a man devoted to the highest interests of the nation.
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