The Argosy — page 181: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

166 Divided. could be adduced in its favour was that it had the merit of being economical. Raoul and Yvonne had been companions since childhood, almost like brother and sister. Perhaps it was partly his fault that she had grown up what Mademoiselle Mathilde considered ‘“ barbarously unladylike ;” and if the latter had not harboured a secret, but confident expectation that the boy and girl friendship would end in Yvonne’s elevation to the proud position of Madame de Kériadec, the girl’s liberty would have been speedily nipped in the bud. It was in the nature of things that since Raoul’s marriage he had been too much pre-occupied, to say nothing of being too much in love with his wife, to wish for any society but hers; and, from the first, Yvonne Hévin had evinced her scornful disapprobation of his choice. It was bad enough that he, Raoul de Kériadec, had not chosen a wife from amongst his own people—a Bretonne, a Kernéwote. But a Parisienne! Could any term be more condemna- tory? And such atypical Parisienne, who tried to walk along the chemins creux with heels at least two inches high, who sat most of the day at home with her idle white hands in her lap, and who had the unpardonable audacity to despise the people of Brittany as un- civilised savages! Raoul was too well aware of Yvonne's opinions not to understand her little insinuations. Formerly, he had let them pass as the foolish ebullitions of a child’s half-jealous pre- judice. But now, his consciousness that if she knew all she would have just cause for triumph, made him unusually touchy on the subject. ‘‘] have never heard that, even in Brittany, you can find roses wethout thorns,” he answered to her last remark. ‘‘ In a great many places, on the contrary, you will never find anything but gorse bushes, which are as pleasant to touch as a hedgehog. You are not very accurate in your poetical similitudes.” ) “Ah! Even in that she has succeeded,” cried the girl passion- ately ; ‘‘she has made you, like herself, a dainty Parisian. It is because you are a man ; and all men are weak and fickle, led by a woman’s hair. But that yow should turn upon your native country— the only country in France that can raise true men and women, instead of dolls and puppets to dance in the world’s puppet show ! What is there in her that has made you so weak—so weak—such a fool?” “Dame! _ It is you who are mad,” said Raoul impatiently ; ‘‘ you do not know what you are saying. Breton? Yes; I ama Breton. But that does not make me so intolerant that I think nothing good that does not come from Brittany. You certainly do not encourage one to believe that common sense, generosity, or even civility can be learnt by staying at home. What is the matter with you ?” The girl covered her face with her hands fora moment, When Gomicbooks.co