"Calm, /seigneur/, your excited fears, no one has designs on your daughter; we evidently find her charming, but are by no means in love with her.With much precaution and circumlocution I gently proceeded to question Count Larinski on the state of his affairs, about which he never has opened his mouth.He frowned.I did not lose courage.I offered him this place of professor of the Slavonian languages of which the abbe had again spoken.I saw in an instant that his sensitive pride had taken alarm.However, upon reflection, he softened, thanked me, declined my kind offer, and announced--guess what! How much is my news worth? what will you give for it? He announced, I tell you, that in two weeks--you understand me--he will return to Vienna, where he has been promised a post in the archives of the Minister of War.I did not dare to ask what was the salary; after all, if he is satisfied, it is not for us to be harder to please than he.When I affirm that Count Larinski is a good, worthy man!--In two weeks! you understand me perfectly.
"My dear friend, I am enchanted to know that the water of Saint Moritz and the air of the Engadine have entirely re-established your health; but do not be imprudent.Half-cures are fatal.Be careful not to leave Churwalden too soon, for the descent into the heavy atmosphere of the plains.Your physician, whom I have just seen, declares that, if you hasten your return he will not answer for the consequences.Antoinette, I am sure, will join her entreaties to ours.Do not let us see you before the end of three weeks! Follow my orders, my dear professor, and all will go well.
Camille is about to leave; he has become insupportable.He had the audacity to assert to me that I was a good woman, but very credulous, which in my estimation is not very polite.He no longer acts as a nephew, and respect is dead."Ten days later M.Moriaz received at Churwalden a fourth and last letter:
"September 6th.
"Decidedly my dear friend, Count Larinski is a delightful man, and I never will pardon myself for having judged ill of him.The day before yesterday I did not know the extent of his merit and of his virtues.His beautiful soul is like a country where one passes from one pleasing discovery to another, and at each step a new scene is revealed.Between ourselves, Antoinette is a dreamer:
where has she got the idea that this man is in love with her?
These Counts Larinski have artists' enthusiasm, tender and sensitive hearts, and poetic imaginations; they love everything, and they love nothing; they admire a pretty woman as they admire a beautiful flower, a humming-bird, a picture of Titian's.Did Itell you that the other day, as I was showing him through my park, he almost fainted before my purple beech--which assuredly is a marvel? He was in ecstasy; I truly believe there were tears in his eyes.I might have supposed he was in love with my beech; yet he has not asked my permission to marry it.
"Moreover, if he were up to his eyes in love with your daughter, have no fear; he will not marry her, and this is the reason-- Wait a little, I must go further back.
"Abbe Miollens came to see me yesterday afternoon; he was distressed that M.Larinski had not approved of his proposition.
" 'The evil is not so great,' I said; 'let him go back to Vienna, where all his acquaintances are; he will be happier there.'
" 'The evil that I see in it,' he replied, 'is that he will be lost to us forever.Vienna is so far away! Professor in London, only ten hours' journey from Paris, he could cross the Channel sometimes, and we could have our music together.'
"You can understand that this reasoning did not touch me in the least; whatever it cost me I will bear it, and resign myself to lose M.Larinski forever; but the abbe is obstinate.
" 'I fear,' he said, 'that the Austrians pay their archivists badly; the English manage matters better, and Lord C--- gave me /carte blanche/.'
" 'Oh! but that,' rejoined I, 'is a delicate point to touch.As soon as you approach the bread-and-butter question, our man assumes a rigid, formal manner, as if an attack had been made on his dignity.'
" 'I truly believe,' he replied, 'that there is a fundamental basis of incomparable nobility of sentiment in his character; he is not proud, he is pride itself.'
"The abbe is passionately fond of Horace; he assets that it is to this great poet that he owes that profound knowledge of men for which he is distinguished.He quoted a Latin verse that he was kind enough to translate for me, and that signified something equivalent to the statement that certain horses rear and kick when you touch the sensitive spot.'That is like the Poles,' he said.
"Meanwhile, M.Larinski entered, and I retained the two gentlemen to dinner.In the evening they again gave me a concert.Why was Antoinette not there? I fancied I was at the Conservatoire.Then we conversed, and the abbe, who never can let go his idea, said, without any reserve, to the count:
" 'My dear count, have you reflected? If you go to London, we could hope to see you often; and, besides, the salary--well, as this terrible word has been spoken, listen to me; I will do all in my power to obtain conditions for you in every way worthy of your merit, your learning, your character, your position.'
