"
"I must believe that you are speaking from the depths of your heart,"
he said, with gentle gravity. "But this winter, my dear Emilie, in
less than two months perhaps, I may be proud of what I shall have to
offer you if you care for the pleasures of wealth. This is the only
secret I shall keep locked here," and he laid his hand on his heart,
"for on its success my happiness depends. I dare not say ours."
"Yes, yes, ours!"
Exchanging such sweet nothings, they slowly made their way back to
rejoin the company. Mademoiselle de Fontaine had never found her lover
more amiable or wittier: his light figure, his engaging manners,
seemed to her more charming than ever, since the conversation which
had made her to some extent the possessor of a heart worthy to be the
envy of every woman. They sang an Italian duet with so much expression
that the audience applauded enthusiastically. Their adieux were in a
conventional tone, which concealed their happiness. In short, this day
had been to Emilie like a chain binding her more closely than ever to
the Stranger's fate. The strength and dignity he had displayed in the
scene when they had confessed their feelings had perhaps impressed
Mademoiselle de Fontaine with the respect without which there is no
true love.
When she was left alone in the drawing-room with her father, the old
man went up to her affectionately, held her hands, and asked her
whether she had gained any light at to Monsieur Longueville's family
and fortune.
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