As soon as Ascanio was out of Madame d'Etampes's presence, the fascinating influence which emanated from her disappeared, and he could once more see clearly the condition of his own heart, as well as what was going on about him. How, he recalled two things he had said. Colombe might love him, since the Duchesse d'Etampes loved him. Thenceforth his life did not belong to him: his instinct had served him well in suggesting these two thoughts to him, but it had led him astray when it inspired him to give utterance to them. If the honest, upright soul of the young man had been capable of descending to dissimulation, all would have been well, but he had simply put the wounded and much to be dreaded duchess on her guard. The struggle henceforth was to be the more terrible, in that Colombe only was threatened.
However, this passionate and perilous scene with the duchess was of service to Ascanio in one respect. He carried away from it a new-born feeling of exaltation and confidence. His mind, excited by the spectacle it had witnessed as well as by its own efforts, was more active than ever, and more inclined to audacious deeds; so that he gallantly determined to find out what basis there might be for his hopes, and to sound the depths of Colombe's heart, though he were to find nothing more than indifference there. If Colombe really loved Comte d'Orbec, why contend longer against Madame d'Etampes? She might do what she would with a rebellious, despised, desolate, despairing existence. He would be ambitious, he would become gloomy and evil-minded; what matter if he did? But first of all he must put an end to his doubts, and go with a determined step to meet his fate. If worse came to worst, Madame d'Etampes's promise would take care of the future.
Ascanio arrived at this decision as he returned along the quay, watching the sun sink in a sea of flame behind the black, frowning Tour de Nesle. When he reached the hôtel, without delay or hesitation, he went first to put together a few jewels, then resolutely knocked four times at the door leading to the Petit-Nesle.
Dame Perrine chanced to be in the neighborhood. With astonishment, mingled with curiosity, she made haste to open the gate. But when she saw the apprentice, she felt called upon to assume a very frigid demeanor.
"Ah! is it you, Monsieur Ascanio? What do you wish?"
"I wish to show these jewels to Mademoiselle Colombe immediately, good Dame Perrine. Is she in the garden?"
"Yes, in her path. But wait, young man, wait for me!"
Ascanio, who had not forgotten the road, walked swiftly away without giving another thought to the governess.
"Let us see," said she, stopping to reflect. "I think my best course is not to join them, but to leave Colombe free to select her purchases and her gifts. It would not be becoming for me to be there, if, as is probable, she puts something aside for me. I will arrive when she has completed her purchases, and then I should certainly be very ungrateful to refuse. That's what I'll do, stay here and not embarrass the dear, kind-hearted child."
It will be seen that the good woman was not deficient in delicacy.
For ten days past Colombe had not found it necessary to ask herself if Ascanio had become her dearest thought. The pure-souled, unsophisticated child did not know what love was, but her heart was overflowing with love. She told herself that she did wrong to indulge in such dreams, but she excused herself on the ground that she certainly should never see Ascanio again, and that she should not have the consolation of justifying herself in his eyes.
Upon this pretext she passed all her evenings upon the bench where he had sat beside her, and there she would talk to him, listen to him, and concentrate her whole soul upon the memory. And when the darkness came on, and Dame Perrine bade her retire, the lovely dreamer would return to the house with reluctant steps, and not until she was recalled to herself would she remember her father's commands, Comte d'Orbec, and the rapid flight of time. Her sleepless nights were hard to bear, but not sufficiently so to efface the charm of her visions of the evening.
On this evening, as usual, Colombe was living over again the delicious hour she had passed with Ascanio, when, happening to raise her eyes, she uttered a sharp cry.
He was standing before her, gazing at her in silence.
He found her changed, but lovelier than ever. Pallor and melancholy were most becoming to her ideally beautiful face. She seemed to belong still less to earth. And so Ascanio, gazing admiringly upon her enhanced charms, was assailed once more by his former modest apprehensions, which Madame d'Etampes's passion had dissipated for a moment. How could this celestial creature ever love him?
The two lovely children, who had loved each other so long without a word, and who had already suffered so much, were at last face to face. They ought, no doubt, to have traversed in an instant the space they had traversed step by step, and separately, in their dreams. They might now come to an understanding first of all, and then allow all their long pent-up emotion to find expression in an outburst of joy.
But they were both too timid for that, and although their emotion betrayed each to the other, their angel hearts did not come together until they had first made a detour.
Colombe, speechless and blushing, had risen to her feet by a sudden impulse. Ascanio, pale with the intensity of his emotion, repressed with a trembling hand the rapid beating of his heart.
They both began to speak at once: he to say, "Forgive me, mademoiselle, but you gave me leave to show you some jewels;" she to say, "I am glad to see that you are entirely recovered, Monsieur Ascanio."
They ceased speaking simultaneously, but nevertheless they had perfectly understood each other: and Ascanio, emboldened by the involuntary smile which the incident naturally brought to the maiden's lips, rejoined, with somewhat more assurance:—
"Are you so kind as to remember that I was wounded?"
"Indeed, yes; and Dame Perrine and I have been very anxious and astonished not to see you."
"I did not intend to come again."
"Why not, pray?"
At this decisive moment Ascanio was fain to lean against a tree for support, but in a moment he summoned all his strength and all his courage, and said breathlessly:—
"I may confess it now: I loved you!"
"And now?"
The question came from Colombe's lips almost without her knowledge: it would have put to flight all the doubts of an older hand than Ascanio, but it simply revived his hopes a little.
"Now, alas!" he continued, "I have measured the distance that lies between us, and I know that you are happily betrothed to a noble count."
"Happily!" interposed Colombe, with a bitter smile.
"What! you do not love the count! Great God! Pray tell me, is he not worthy of you?"
"He is rich and powerful, far above me: but you have seen him?"
"No, and I was afraid to inquire. Besides, I cannot say why, but I felt certain that he was young and attractive, and that he was agreeable to you."
"He is older than my father, and he frightens me," said Colombe, hiding her faee in her hands with a gesture of abhorrence which she could not repress.
Ascanio, beside himself with joy, fell on his knees, with clasped hands, pale as death, his eyes half closed, but a sublime light shone out from beneath his eyelids, and a smile fit to rejoice God's heart played about his colorless lips.
"What is the matter, Ascanio?" said Colombe in alarm.
"What is the matter!" cried the young man, finding in the excess of his joy the audacity which sorrow first gave him; "What is the matter! why, I love you, Colombe!"
"Ascanio! Ascanio!" murmured Colombe, in a tone that was half reproof, half pleasure, and it must be said, as soft as a confession of love.
But they understood each other; their hearts were united, and before they were conscious of it, their lips had followed suit.
"My friend," said Colombe, softly pushing Ascanio away.
They gazed into one another's faces in ecstasy: the two angels recognized each other at last. Life does not contain two such moments.
"And so," said Ascanio, "you do not love Comte d'Orbec: you are free to love me."
"My friend," said Colombe, in her sweet, grave voice, "no one save my father ever kissed me before, and he, alas! very rarely. I am an ignorant child, and I know nothing of life; but I know from the thrill which your kiss caused me that it is my duty henceforth to belong only to you or to Heaven. Yes, if it were otherwise, I am sure that it would be a crime! Your lips have consecrated me your fiancée and your wife, and though my father himself should say no, I would listen only to the voice of God, which says yes in my heart. Here is my hand, which is yours."
"Angels of paradise, hear her and envy me!" cried Ascanio.
Such ecstasy is not to be pictured or described. Let those who can remember, remember, ft is impossible to put upon paper the words, the looks, the hand-pressures of these pure-hearted lovely children. Their spotless souls flowed together, as do the waters from two springs, without changing their nature or their color. Ascanio did not sully with the shadow of an impure thought the chaste brow of his beloved; Colombe laid her head in perfect trust upon her lover's shoulder. Had the Virgin Mary looked down upon them from on high she would not have turned her head away.
When one begins to love, one is in haste to bring to the support of his love all that he can of his past, present, and future. As soon as they could speak calmly, Ascanio and Colombe described to each other all their sorrows, all their hopes, of the days just gone by. It was charming to both to find that each had the other's story to tell. They had suffered much, and they smiled upon each other as they remembered their suffering.
But when they came to speak of the future, then they became serious and sad. What had God in store for them for the morrow? According to all divine laws they were made for each other; but human prejudices would declare their union ill assorted, monstrous. What were they to do? How persuade Comte d'Orbec to renounce his wife? how persuade the Provost of Paris to give his daughter to an artisan?
"Alas! my friend," said Colombe, "I promised you that I would belong to you or to Heaven,—I see that it must be to Heaven.
"No," said Ascanio, "to me. Two children like ourselves cannot move the world alone; but I will speak to my dear master, Benvenuto Cellini. He is powerful, Colombe, and sees all things from a higher level! He acts on earth as God ordains in heaven, and whatever his will has undertaken he accomplishes. He will give you to me. I do not know how he will do it, but I am sure. He loves obstacles. He will speak to King François; he will persuade your father. The only thing he could not bring to pass you did without his intervention,—you loved me. The rest ought to be very simple. You see that I believe in miracles now, my best beloved."
"Dear Ascanio, you hope and I hope. Would you like me also to try an experiment? There is a person whose influence over my father's mind is unbounded. Shall I not write to Madame d'Etampes?"
"Madame d'Etampes!" cried Ascanio. "Mon Dieu! I had forgotten her."
Thereupon he told her, simply and without affectation, how he had seen the duchess, how she had declared her love for him, and how, that very day, within an hour, she had pronounced herself the enemy of his beloved. But of what consequence was it? Benvenuto's task would be a little more difficult, that was all. One adversary more would not terrify him.
"My dear," said Colombe, "you have faith in your master, and I have faith in you; speak to Cellini as soon as possible, and let him decide our fate."
"To-morrow I will tell him everything. He loves me so well that he will understand me instantly. But what is it, my Colombe? How sad you are!"
Each sentence of Ascanio's narrative had made Colombe doubly conscious of her love for him by forcing the sharp sting of jealousy into her heart, and more than once she convulsively pressed Ascanio's hand, which she held in her own.
"Ascanio, Madame d'Etampes is very beautiful. She is beloved by a great king. Mon Dieu! did she make no impression upon your heart?"
"I love you!" said Ascanio.
"Wait here for me."
She returned a moment later with a beautiful fresh white lily.
"When you are working at that woman's lily of gold and jewels," said she, "glance sometimes at the simple lilies from your Colombe's garden."
With that she put her lips to the flower and handed it to the apprentice, as coquettishly as Madame d'Etampes herself could have done.
At that moment Dame Perrine appeared at the end of the path.
"Adieu and au revoir !" said Colombe, putting her hand to her lover's lips with a furtive, graceful gesture.
The governess approached them.
"Well, my child," she said to Colombe, "have you given the delinquent a good scolding, and selected your jewels?"
"Take this, Dame Perrine," said Ascanio, putting the box of trinkets in the good woman's hands still unopened; "Mademoiselle Colombe and I have decided that you shall yourself choose whatever suits you best, and I will come again to-morrow for the others."
With that he ran off with his joy, darting a farewell glance at Colombe, which told her all that he had to tell.
Colombe sat with her hands folded upon her breast as if to confine the happiness it contained,—while Dame Perrine was making her choice among the marvels brought by Ascanio.
Alas! the poor child was very soon and very cruelly awakened from her sweet dreams.
A woman appeared, escorted by one of the provost's men.
"Monseigneur le Comte d'Orbec, who is to return day after to-morrow," said this woman, "places me at madame's service from to-day. I am familiar with the newest and prettiest styles, and I am commanded by Monsieur le Comte and Messire le Prévôt to make for madame a magnificent brocade gown, as Madame la Duchesse d'Etampes is to present madame to the queen on the day of her Majesty's departure for Saint-Germain, four days hence."
After the scene we have described, the reader may imagine the despairing effect of this twofold news upon Colombe.