Valentine by George Sand Read Free Book Online

I have done my duty, I have established you here in accordance with your mother’s wish ; but I will not spoil your pleasure by my awkwardness. You had a partner all ready just now, allow me to cede my rights to him.—Will you kindly take my place, monsieur ?” he said, turning to Bénédict, in a tone of the utmost courtesy. “You will act my part much better than I.”
    And as Bénédict, torn between shyness and pride, hesitated to take that place, the most valuable privilege of which had been taken from him, Monsieur de Lansac graciously added :
    â€œYou will be sufficiently repaid for the favor I ask you ; perhaps, indeed, it is your place to thank me.”
    Bénédict did not require much urging ; Valentine’s hand was placed with no sign of repugnance in his trembling one. The countess was satisfied with the diplomatic way in which her future son-in-law had arranged the affair. But suddenly the viol player, who was a sly, facetious fellow, like all true artists, interrupted the music of the
bourrée
and played again, with malicious emphasis, the imperative
trill.
The new dancer was thereby enjoined to kiss his partner. Bénédict turned pale and lost his self-possession. Père Lhéry, terrified by the wrath which he saw blazing in the countess’s eyes, rushed to the musician and implored him to go on. But the fellow would not listen, enjoyed his triumph amid a chorus of laughter and bravos, and persisted in not resuming the air until after the indispensable formality had been complied with. The other dancers lost patience. Madame de Raimbault prepared to take her daughter away. But Monsieur de Lansac, a man of sense and spirit, realizing the utter absurdity of the scene, went to Bénédict again and said with a slightly sarcastic politeness :
    â€œWell, monsieur, must I authorize you to assume a privilege of which I dared not take advantage ? You make your triumph complete.”
    Bénédict pressed his trembling lips on the young countess’s soft cheeks. A thrill of pride and pleasure made his pulses throb for an instant ; but he noticed that Valentine, although blushing, laughed like a school-girl at the incident. He remembered that she blushed but did not laugh when Monsieur de Lansac kissed her hand. He said to himself that that handsome nobleman, so courteous, so clever, and so sensible, must have won her heart ; and he took no further pleasure in dancing with her, although she danced the
bourrée
marvellously well, with all the self-possession and unconstraint of a village damsel.
    But Athénaïs displayed even more charm and coquetry in that dance; her beauty was of a type which is more generally popular. Men of mediocre education love the charms that allure, the eyes that invite, the smile that encourages. The young farmer’s daughter found in her very innocence a source of mischievous and piquant self-assurance. In an instant she was surrounded, and, as it were, kidnapped by her country admirers. Bénédict followed her about the ball for some little time. Then, being displeased to see her leave her mother and mingle with a swarm of young giddy-pates about whom clouds of swains were hovering, he tried to make her understand by signs and glances that she was abandoning herself too freely to her natural forwardness. Athénaïs did not see, or did not choose to see. Bénédict lost his temper, shrugged his shoulders and left the fête. He found his uncle’s man at the inn; he had come on the little gray mare that Bénédict usually rode. He told him to drive Monsieur Lhéry and his family home in the carriage, and, mounting his horse, rode off alone toward Grangeneuve just at nightfall.

V
    Valentine, after thanking Bénédict with a graceful courtesy, left the dance, and, on returning to the countess, she understood from her pallor, the contraction of her lips and the sternness of her expression, that a storm