Still, in spite of
the unjust compact she had made with the duke, she could not see
Etienne in her visions of the future as priest or cardinal; and the
absolute forgetfulness of the father as to his first-born, enabled her
to postpone the moment of putting him into Holy Orders.
"There is time enough," she said to herself.
The day came when all her cares, inspired by a sentiment which seemed
to enter into the flesh of her son and give it life, had their reward.
Beauvouloir--that blessed man whose teachings had proved so precious
to the child, and whose anxious glance at that frail idol had so often
made the duchess tremble--declared that Etienne was now in a condition
to live long years, provided no violent emotion came to convulse his
delicate body. Etienne was then sixteen.
At that age he was just five feet, a height he never passed. His skin,
as transparent and satiny as that of a little girl, showed a delicate
tracery of blue veins; its whiteness was that of porcelain. His eyes,
which were light blue and ineffably gentle, implored the protection of
men and women; that beseeching look fascinated before the melody of
his voice was heard to complete the charm.
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