These particulars were so well understood in the court circles and in the faubourg Saint-Germain, that during the last five years of the Restoration they were considered ancient history, and any one who mentioned them would have been laughed at.Women never spoke of the charming duke without praising him; he was excellent, they said, to his wife; could a man be better? He had left her the entire disposal of her own property, and had always defended her on every occasion.It is true that, whether from pride, kindliness, or chivalry, Monsieur de Maufrigneuse had saved the duchess under various circumstances which might have ruined other women, in spite of Diane's surroundings, and the influence of her mother and that of the Duc de Navarreins, her father-in-law, and her husband's aunt.
For several ensuing days the princess revealed herself to d'Arthez as remarkable for her knowledge of literature.She discussed with perfect fearlessness the most difficult questions, thanks to her daily and nightly reading, pursued with an intrepidity worthy of the highest praise.D'Arthez, amazed, and incapable of suspecting that Diane d'Uxelles merely repeated at night that which she read in the morning (as some writers do), regarded her as a most superior woman.These conversations, however, led away from Diane's object, and she tried to get back to the region of confidences from which d'Arthez had prudently retired after her coquettish rebuff; but it was not as easy as she expected to bring back a man of his nature who had once been startled away.
However, after a month of literary campaigning and the finest platonic discourses, d'Arthez grew bolder, and arrived every day at three o'clock.He retired at six, and returned at nine, to remain until midnight, or one in the morning, with the regularity of an ardent and impatient lover.The princess was always dressed with more or less studied elegance at the hour when d'Arthez presented himself.This mutual fidelity, the care they each took of their appearance, in fact, all about them expressed sentiments that neither dared avow, for the princess discerned very plainly that the great child with whom she had to do shrank from the combat as much as she desired it.Nevertheless d'Arthez put into his mute declarations a respectful awe which was infinitely pleasing to her.Both felt, every day, all the more united because nothing acknowledged or definite checked the course of their ideas, as occurs between lovers when there are formal demands on one side, and sincere or coquettish refusals on the other.
Like all men younger than their actual age, d'Arthez was a prey to those agitating irresolutions which are caused by the force of desires and the terror of displeasing,--a situation which a young woman does not comprehend when she shares it, but which the princess had too often deliberately produced not to enjoy its pleasures.In fact, Diane enjoyed these delightful juvenilities all the more keenly because she knew that she could put an end to them at any moment.She was like a great artist delighting in the vague, undecided lines of his sketch, knowing well that in a moment of inspiration he can complete the masterpiece still waiting to come to birth.Many a time, seeing d'Arthez on the point of advancing, she enjoyed stopping him short, with an imposing air and manner.She drove back the hidden storms of that still young heart, raised them again, and stilled them with a look, holding out her hand to be kissed, or saying some trifling insignificant words in a tender voice.
These manoeuvres, planned in cold blood, but enchantingly executed, carved her image deeper and deeper on the soul of that great writer and thinker whom she revelled in making childlike, confiding, simple, and almost silly beside her.And yet she had moments of repulsion against her own act, moments in which she could not help admiring the grandeur of such simplicity.This game of choicest coquetry attached her, insensibly, to her slave.At last, however, Diane grew impatient with an Epictetus of love; and when she thought she had trained him to the utmost credulity, she set to work to tie a thicker bandage still over his eyes.
