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Literature Post > Loti, Pierre > Ramuntcho > Chapter 24

Ramuntcho by Loti, Pierre - Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV.

Franchita, however, was astonished by the unexplained attitude of her
son, who, apparently, never saw Gracieuse and yet never talked of her.
Then, while was amassing in her the sadness of his coming departure for
military service, she observed him, with her peasant's patience and
muteness.

One evening, one of the last evenings, as he was going away, mysterious
and in haste, long before the hour of the nocturnal contraband, she
straightened before him, her eyes fixed on his:

"Where are you going, my son?"

And seeing him turn his head, blushing and embarrassed, she acquired a
sudden certainty:

"It is well, now I know.--Oh! I know!--"

She was moved even more than he, at her discovery of this great
secret.--The idea had not even come to her that it was not Gracieuse,
that it might be another girl. She was too far-seeing. And her scruples
as a Christian were awakened, her conscience was frightened at the evil
that they might have done, as rose from the depth of her heart a
sentiment of which she was ashamed as if it were a crime, a sort of
savage joy.--For, in fine--if their carnal union was accomplished, the
future of her son was assured.--She knew her Ramuntcho well enough to
know that he would not change his mind and that Gracieuse would never be
abandoned by him.

The silence between them was prolonged, she standing before him, barring
the way:

"And what have you done together?" she decided to ask. "Tell me the
truth, Ramuntcho, what wrong have you done?--"

"What wrong?--Oh! nothing, mother, nothing wrong, I swear to you--"

He replied this without irritation at being questioned, and bearing the
look of his mother with eyes of frankness. It was true, and she believed
him.

But, as she stayed in front of him, her hand on the door-latch, he said,
with dumb violence:

"You are not going to prevent me from going to her, since I shall leave
in three days!"

Then, in presence of this young will in revolt, the mother, enclosing in
herself the tumult of her contradictory thoughts, lowered her head and,
without a word, stood aside to let him pass.