The young husband and wife led a charming
life, more and more in love with and devoted to each other, and never
experiencing that satiety of bliss which is ruinous to the most perfect
happiness. Although Isabelle had no concealments from her husband, and
shared even her inmost thoughts with him, yet for a time she seemed very
much occupied with some mysterious business--apparently exclusively her
own.
She had secret conferences with her steward, with an architect, and
also with certain sculptors and painters--all without de Sigognac's
knowledge, and by the connivance of Vallombreuse, who seemed to be her
confidant, aider and abettor.
One fine morning, several months after their marriage, Isabelle said to
de Sigognac, as if a sudden thought had struck her: "My dear lord, do
you never think of your poor, deserted, old chateau? and have you no
desire to return to the birthplace of our love?"
"I am not so unfeeling as that, my darling, and I have thought of it
longingly many times of late. But I did not like to propose the journey
to you without being sure that it would please you. I did not like to
tear you away from the delights of the court--of which you are the chief
ornament--and take you to that poor, old, half-ruined mansion, the haunt
of rats and owls, where I could not hope to make you even comfortable,
yet, which I prefer, miserable as it is, to the most luxurious palaces;
for it was the home of my ancestors, and the place where I first saw
you, my heart's delight!--spot ever sacred and dear to me, upon which I
should like to erect an altar.
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