Valvèdre

V

V had promised Obernay that I would come knock on his door the day before his wedding. On July 31 at five in the morning, I went aboard a steamboat to cross Lake Geneva from Lausanne to Geneva. I had not slept all night, so afraid was I to miss the time of departure . Exhausted, I took a few moments of rest on a bench, draped in my coat. When I opened my eyes, you could already feel the sun. A man, who also seemed to be asleep, was sitting on the same bench. I recognized at first glance my anonymous friend from the Simplon. This meeting at the gates of Geneva was somewhat worrisome; I had made the mistake of writing to Obernay from Altdorf and giving him a false itinerary of my excursion. This excess of caution was becoming an unfortunate blunder if the person who had seen me on the road to Valvèdre was from Geneva and acquainted with the Valvèdres or the Obernays. I thus wanted to hide from his sight; but the boat was quite small, and after a few moments, I found myself face to face with my amiable philosopher. He was looking at me closely as if he was not sure he recognized me; but his doubts soon dissipated and he came up to me with the grace of a man belonging to the best society. He spoke to me as if we had just parted, and out of great tactfulness, refraining from expressing any surprise and any curiosity, he took up the conversation where we had left it when we were on the road to Brig. I fell again under his charm, and without thinking further about contradicting him, I sought to profit from the serene and pleasant wisdom that he carried modestly within himself, like a treasure of which he thought to be the guardian rather than its master or inventor. I could not resist the urge to question him, and yet several times my meditation let the conversation drop. I felt the need to summarize inwardly I - 91 - 92 Valvèdre and to savor his words. During these moments, thinking that I preferred to be left alone and having no desire to impose himself, he would try to leave; but I followed him and took him up again, condemned by an invisible power to follow this man’s footsteps, a man whom I had decided to avoid. When we neared Geneva, the passengers who irrupted from the cabin unto the deck separated us. My new friend was approached by several of them and I had to move away. I noticed that everyone seemed to speak to him with the highest deference; however, as he had had the tact of not inquiring after my name, I felt bound to respect his own incognito. Half an hour later I was at Obernay’s door. My heart was beating so violently that I stopped a moment to compose myself. Obernay himself came to open the door; from the terrace of his garden, he had seen me arrive. “I was counting on you,” he told me, “and yet here I am in a transport of delight as if I had given up hope of seeing you. Come, come! The whole family is gathered and we are expecting Valvèdre shortly.” I found Alida among a dozen people who only allowed us to exchange customary greetings. Besides Obernay’s father, Henri’s mother and his fiancée were present, as well as Valvèdre’s older sister Mademoiselle Juste—a person less old and less unpleasant than I had imagined, and an amazingly beautiful young woman. Although I was absorbed by thoughts of Alida, I was struck by this splendor of gracefulness, youth, and poetry, and in spite of myself I asked Henri, after a few moments, if this beautiful person was a relative of his. “Good gracious!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “she is my sister Adélaïde! And here is another whom you did not know as a child, as you did this one; here is our little Demon,” he added as he kissed his sister Rosa who was coming in. Rosa was also gorgeous, but less ideally so than her sister and more pleasant, or, more exactly, less imposing. She was barely fourteen and her demeanor was not yet that of a reasonable young lady; but there was so much innocence in her exuberant gaiety that one was...