Here were the force and
the feebleness of womanhood in full development, a perfect antithesis.
These two women could never be rivals; each had her own empire. Here
was the delicate campanula, or the lily, beside the scarlet poppy; a
turquoise near a ruby. In a moment, as it were,--at first sight, as
the saying is,--Calyste was seized with a love which crowned the
secret work of his hopes, his fears, his uncertainties. Mademoiselle
des Touches had awakened his nature; Beatrix inflamed both his heart
and thoughts. The young Breton suddenly felt within him a power to
conquer all things, and yield to nothing that stood in his way. He
looked at Conti with an envious, gloomy, savage rivalry he had never
felt for Claude Vignon. He employed all his strength to control
himself; but the inward tempest went down as soon as the eyes of
Beatrix turned to him, and her soft voice sounded in his ear. Dinner
was announced.
"Calyste, give your arm to the marquise," said Mademoiselle des
Touches, taking Conti with her right hand, and Claude Vignon with her
left, and drawing back to let the marquise pass.
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