Free Valentine by George Sand

earth.”
    â€œVery well,” said Bénédict, “trust yourself to me. You must not be seen at the farm. Although my people are still away, the servants might see you. They would talk, and to-morrow your mother, being informed of your visit, would begin to persecute your sister afresh. Let me hitch your horse with mine under these trees, and follow me.”
    Valentine sprang lightly to the ground, without waiting for Bénédict to offer her his hand. But she was no sooner on her feet than the instinct of danger, natural to the purest women, awoke in her; she was afraid. Bénédict fastened the horses under a clump of maples. As he walked back toward her, he cried, with evident sincerity:
    â€œOh ! how happy she will be, and how little she expects the joy that is approaching her!”
    These words reassured Valentine. She followed her guide along a path, all damp with the evening dew, to the entrance to a hemp field which was enclosed by a ditch. They had to pass over a tottering plank. Bénédict jumped into the ditch and held it while Valentine crossed.
    â€œHere, Perdreau ! down, keep quiet!” he said to a great dog which rushed toward them growling, and, on recognizing his master, made as much noise by his caresses as he had made by his demonstrations of distrust.
    Bénédict sent him away with a kick, and ushered his trembling companion into the farm garden, which was situated behind the buildings, as in most rustic dwellings. The garden was a dense mass of vegetation. Brambles, rose bushes, fruit trees grew there in confusion, and their sturdy shoots, which the gardener’s pruning-hook never touched, were so intertwined over the paths as to make them almost impassable. Valentine caught her longriding-skirt on all the thorns ; the profound darkness amid all that untrammeled vegetation increased her embarrassment, and the violent emotion which she naturally felt at such a moment made her almost too weak to walk.
    â€œIf you will give me your hand,” said her guide, “we can go faster.”
    Valentine had lost her glove in her excitement ; she placed her bare hand in Bénédict’s. It was a strange position for a girl brought up as she had been. The young man walked in front of her, drawing her gently toward him, putting the branches aside with his other arm so that they should not strike his lovely companion’s face.
    â€œMon Dieu!
how you tremble !” he said to her, releasing her hand when they reached an open space.
    â€œAh ! monsieur, I tremble with joy and impatience,” Valentine replied.
    There remained one more obstacle to surmount. Bénédict had not the key to the garden ; in order to get out of it they must climb over a quickset hedge. He proposed to assist her, and she had no choice but to accept. Thereupon the farmer’s nephew took the Comte de Lansac’s fiancée in his arms. He placed his trembling hands about her slender waist ; he breathed her agitated breath. And that condition of affairs lasted some time, for the hedge was broad, bristling with thorny branches ; the stone in the banking crumbled, and Bénédict was not wholly self-possessed.
    However—so great is the modest reserve of this age !—his imagination fell far short of the reality, and the fear of offending his conscience prevented him from realizing his good fortune.
    When they reached the door of the house, Bénédictnoiselessly raised the latch, ushered Valentine into the living-room on the second floor, and felt his way to the hearth. He soon had a candle lighted, and, pointing to a wooden staircase not unlike a ladder, said to Mademoiselle de Raimbault:
    â€œThat is the way.”
    He threw himself into a chair and prepared to do sentry duty, begging her not to remain more than a quarter of an hour with her sister.
    Fatigued by her long walk in the morning, Louise had fallen asleep early. The little room which she occupied was one