There was a world
of entreaty in her eyes; they seemed to be begging a caress; she
raised her quivering lips to his, but he did not observe it. For
a long time she hesitated, fearing he might spurn her; but at
last, yielding to a supreme impulse, she threw her arms around his
neck, drew him toward her, and pressed him to her heart in a close
embrace. "My son! my son!" she repeated; "to have you with me
again, after all these years!"
Unfortunately, no whirlwind of passion was capable of carrying M.
Wilkie beyond himself. His emotion was now spent and his mind had
regained its usual indifference. He flattered himself that he was
a man of mettle--and he remained as cold as ice beneath his
mother's kisses. Indeed, he barely tolerated them; and if he did
allow her to embrace him, it was only because he did not know how
to refuse. "Will she never have done?" he thought. "This is a
pretty state of things! I must be very attractive. How Costard
and Serpillon would laugh if they saw me now." Costard and
Serpillon were his intimate friends, the co-proprietors of the
famous steeplechaser.
In her rapture, however, Madame d'Argeles did not observe the
peculiar expression on her son's face. She had compelled him to
take a chair opposite her, and, with nervous volubility, she
continued: "If I don't deny myself the happiness of embracing you
again, it is because I have not broken the vow I took never to
make myself known to you.
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