Within half an hour, Clotilde was in Madame Emerly’s drawing-room relating her desperate history of love and parental tyranny, assisted by the lover whom she had introduced. Her hostess promised shelter and exhibited sympathy. The whole Teutonic portion of the Continent knew Alvan by reputation. He was insurrectionally notorious in morals and menacingly in politics; but his fine air, handsome face, flowing tongue, and the signal proof of his respect for the lady of his love and deference toward her family, won her personally. She promised the best help she could give them. They were certainly in a romantic situation, such as few women could see and decline their aid to the lovers.
Madame Emerly proved at least her sincerity before many minutes had passed.
Chancing to look out into the street, she saw Clotilde’s mother and her betrothed sister stepping up to the house. What was to be done? And was the visit accidental? She announced it, and Clotilde cried out, but Alvan cried louder: ‘Heaven-directed! and so, let me see her and speak to her--nothing could be better.’
Madame Emerly took mute counsel of Clotilde, shaking her own head premonitorily; and then she said: ‘I think indeed it will be safer, if I am asked, to say you are not here, and I know not where you are.’
‘Yes! yes!’ Clotilde replied: ‘Oh! do that.’
She half turned to Alvan, rigid with an entreaty that hung on his coming voice.
‘No!’ said Alvan, shocked in both pride and vanity. ‘Plain-dealing; no subterfuge! Begin with foul falsehood? No. I would not have you burdened, madame, with the shadow of a conventional untruth on our account. And when it would be bad policy?... Oh, no, worse than the sin! as the honest cynic says. We will go down to Madame von Rudiger, and she shall make acquaintance with the man who claims her daughter’s hand.’
Clotilde rocked in an agony. Her friend was troubled. Both ladies knew what there would be to encounter better than he. But the man, strong in his belief in himself, imposed his will on them.
Alvan and Clotilde clasped hands as they went downstairs to Madame Emerly’s reception room. She could hardly speak: ‘Do not forsake me.’
‘Is this forsaking?’ He could ask it in the deeply questioning tone which supplies the answer.