Courage--and silence!--My Hortense,
swear that you will never discuss your griefs with anybody but me,
never let them be suspected by any third person. Oh! be as proud as
your mother has been."
Hortense started; she had heard her husband's step.
"So it would seem," said Wenceslas, as he came in, "that Stidmann has
been here while I went to see him."
"Indeed!" said Hortense, with the angry irony of an offended woman who
uses words to stab.
"Certainly," said Wenceslas, affecting surprise. "We have just met."
"And yesterday?"
"Well, yesterday I deceived you, my darling love; and your mother
shall judge between us."
This candor unlocked his wife's heart. All really lofty women like the
truth better than lies. They cannot bear to see their idol smirched;
they want to be proud of the despotism they bow to.
There is a strain of this feeling in the devotion of the Russians to
their Czar.
"Now, listen, dear mother," Wenceslas went on. "I so truly love my
sweet and kind Hortense, that I concealed from her the extent of our
poverty. What could I do? She was still nursing the boy, and such
troubles would have done her harm; you know what the risk is for a
woman. Her beauty, youth, and health are imperiled.
Pages:
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377