"His countrywomen should all unite to do it, Victorine--for he is going out to battle for them all--every village girl, whose lover is still left to walk with her on the Sabbath evening--every young wife, who can still lay her baby in her husband's arms--every mother, who still rejoices in the smile of her stalwart son; they should all unite to wreath a crown for the brow of Henri Larochejaquelin."
"And so they shall, Marie; but there will be others also, whose valour will claim a token of admiration from the gratitude of their countrywomen; we will all do this for Henri and our other brave defenders; but if I know his character, the gratitude of many will not make him happy without the favour of one, and she will be the lady of his love; the remembrance of whose smiles will bear him scatheless through the din of the battle."
"I should be vain, Victorine, if I pretended to misunderstand your questions," said Marie; "but why you should mix my name with that of M. Larochejaquelin, without vanity I do not know."
"Offend me, dearest Victorine! how should I be offended with anything you could say?"
"But would it offend you to see Henri Larochejaquelin at your feet."
"Is there any girl in France who would have a right to be offended at seeing him there, if he came with a tale of true love?"
"You may be sure at least that Henri will never sully his lips with false vows," said Madame de Lescure.
"He has at any rate made no vows to me, Victorine, nor given me cause to suppose he ever will."
"Now you ask me questions which you know it only becomes me to answer in one way."
"Why, Marie, I declare you and I have changed characters this morning. You are all sobriety when I make a poor attempt at joking with you. Were I, as usual, talking of my sober cares, you would be as giddy as a girl of fifteen, and talk to me of twenty lovers that you have."
"It is very different talking of twenty lovers, and of one."
"Then you own there is one lover in the case--eh, Marie?"
"Now you are crafty, Victorine, and try to trap me into confessions. You know I have no confession to make, or I should have made it long ago to you."
"I know, Marie, that Larochejaquelin is sad when you are not by, and that he has a word for no one else when you are present; but I know not whether that means love. I know also that your bright eyes brighten when they rest on him, and that your heart beats somewhat faster at the mention of his name; but I know not whether that means love."