?İophile, 1811-1872 / 2008-07-29 00:00:00
He had no near relatives to come
to his assistance, and so lived on, neglected and forgotten, in his
crumbling chateau, with nothing to look forward to or hope for. In
the course of his solitary wanderings he had several times chanced to
encounter the young and beautiful Yolande de Foix, following the hounds
on her snow-white palfrey, in company with her father and a number of
the young noblemen of the neighbourhood. This dazzling vision of beauty
often haunted his dreams, but what possible relations could there ever
be hoped for between the rich, courted heiress, whose suitors were
legion, and his own poverty-stricken self? Far from seeking to attract
her attention, he always got out of her sight as quickly as possible,
lest his ill-fitting, shabby garments and miserable old pony should
excite a laugh at his expense; for he was very sensitive, this poor
young nobleman, and could not have borne the least approach to ridicule
from the fair object of his secret and passionate admiration. He had
tried his utmost to stifle the ardent emotions that filled his heart
whenever his thoughts strayed to the beautiful Yolande, realizing how
far above his reach she was, and he believed that he had succeeded;
though there were times even yet when it all rushed back upon him with
overwhelming force, like a huge tidal wave that sweeps everything
before it.
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