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bear him a son. Joséphine smiled. “Who knows,” she said, “maybe you caught his fancy today.”
    “I do not want him. He is old, for one thing.”
    “Nonsense. He can’t be more than forty-five. That’s nothing when a man is in good health. I can’t think of a better match for you.”
    For my part, I found the prospect of any intimacy with him unbearable. Even sitting by his side in church had been agony.
     

8
     
    The next day, fresh from the impressions of Thiézac, I was leading Jewel to a meadow behind the château when I saw two men ride into the courtyard. I recognized Pierre-André’s elder brothers, the lawyer, Jean-Baptiste, and Pierre, the physician. My heart stopped for a minute. I hastened to take Jewel back to the stables and returned to the house. I ran to a spare bedroom that afforded a view of the courtyard and waited. After about ten minutes, I saw the brothers mount and leave. I tried in vain to read their expressions.
    Then I heard an unexpected noise. A dispute had erupted between my brother and mother. Both of their voices were at their highest pitch, quivering with anger. The bedroom was right above the main drawing room, and I could feel the violence of the words they hurled at each other without understanding them. I was frozen with surprise, because I had never heard my brother raise his voice to our mother. She in turn reserved her barbs for the servants and me. Finally, one of the maids, a terrified look on her face, came to tell me that I was wanted downstairs. As I entered the drawing room, my mother and brother turned to me. Her eyes were red.
    “So, Gabrielle,” said my brother, his jaw tight, “what have you been doing of late?”
    “I do not know of what you are talking, Sir. I saw Messieurs Coffinhal leave a while ago, that is all.”
    “And of course, you are unaware of the purpose of their visit?”
    “I thought that maybe Maître Coffinhal had come here to discuss some legal matter with you, Sir, and that Mother had summoned the Doctor.”
    “Are you telling me that you are ignorant of the offer of marriage that has just been made by those men?”
    “I am.”
    “Gabrielle, look at yourself when you lie.”
    Foolishly, I obeyed and glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. My face was flushed.
    “Pray tell me,” continued the Marquis, “how it is that their younger brother has the insolence to aspire to your hand? He is a country physician, a lawyer’s son, which is bad enough. But do you know what his paternal grandfather was? The lowest kind of commoner, a peasant from Pailherols, up in the mountains, a man who would not have dared address any of the Montserrats except on his knees. And now his grandson would marry my sister? How on earth did he conceive the idea?”
    “I believe that he knows me by sight, Sir. I met him briefly at the cobbler’s shop.”
    “So you want me to believe that a man in his right mind would seek the hand of a young lady he knows only by sight, without any encouragement from her family, as in one of your fairy tales?” The Marquis paused, his eyes narrowed. “Have you given him any encouragement?”
    “Certainly not, Sir.”
    “If you had, you would have done him no favours, for such a match is out of the question. I will never give you to a commoner. Never, do you hear me?” He glared at me. “As for you, Gabrielle, go to your room. There will be no more rides to Vic on your own. From now on, you will not stir from Fontfreyde unless accompanied by Mother or me.”
    I returned upstairs, upset but not desperate. True, my brother seemed angry, but in time he might relent. I would, in the course of the next days, speak to him outside the presence of our mother. I would throw myself upon his mercy, confess everything and beg his forgiveness for lying to him. He loved me. His heart could not remain closed to me for long. I hoped that he had not been too blunt in his refusal and that the Coffinhal brothers could be