Page:Novels of Honoré de Balzac Volume 23.djvu/323

 encouraged by promises, and my only claim was an unbounded affection; but they have found means to separate me forever from him whom I love; they have made me unworthy of him.—Never!” she said, with a sound in her voice which struck the spectators painfully, “never will I consent to give to anyone, no matter who it may be, a degraded hand, a tarnished reputation. I loved too much—I may confess it in my present state—I love a human creature almost as much as God. And so God—”

“Come! come! my dear, do not slander God! Come, my daughter,” said the old lady, making an effort, “do not exaggerate the importance of an infamous joke in which nobody believes. I promise you, you will live and you will be happy.”

“You will be happy!” said Savinien, kneeling in front of Ursule and kissing her hands, “my mother has called you ‘my daughter.’”

“That will do,” said the doctor, who came to feel his invalid’s pulse, “do not kill her with joy.”

At that moment, Goupil, finding the entrance door ajar, pushed that of the little parlor and showed his ugly face excited with the thoughts of vengeance that had been flourishing in his heart while on his way.

“Monsieur de Portenduère!” he said in a voice like the hissing of a snake that is driven into its hole.

“What do you want?” replied Savinien, rising.

“I want a word with you.”

Savinien went out into the passage, and Goupil led him into the little yard.