It was a solitary spot and in other circumstances Lydia might have felt a trifle nervous.
But she thought she knew Robert well enough to know that he was incapable of taking advantage of the situation.
He had too nice a nature.
Moreover she had an intuition that he had something on his mind, and was curious to know what it was.
He lit her cigarette and his and for a moment kept silent.
She realized that he was embarrassed and did not know how to begin.
Her heart began to beat anxiously.
“I’ve got something to say to you, my dear,” he said at last.
“Yes?”
“Mon Dieu, I hardly know how to put it.
I’m not often nervous, but at the moment I have a curious sensation that is quite new to me.”
Lydia’s heart sank, but she had no intention of showing that she was suffering.
“If one has something awkward to say,” she answered lightly, “it’s better to say it quite plainly, you know.
One doesn’t do much good by beating about the bush.”
“I’ll take you at your word.
Will you marry me?”
“Me?”
It was the last thing she had expected him to say.
“I love you passionately.
I think I fell in love with you at first sight, when we stood side by side at that concert, and the tears poured down your pale cheeks.”
“But your mother?”
“My mother is delighted.
She’s waiting now.
I said that if you consented I would take you to her.
She wants to embrace you.
She’s happy at the thought that I’m settling down with someone she entirely approves of, and the idea is that after we’ve all had a good cry together we should crack a bottle of champagne.”
“Last Sunday when you took me to see your mother, had you told her that you wished to marry me?”
“But of course. She very naturally wanted to see what you were like.
She’s not stupid, my mother; she made up her mind at once.”
“I had an idea she didn’t like me.”
“You were wrong.”
They smiled into one another’s eyes, and she raised her face to his.
For the first time he kissed her on the lips.
“There’s no doubt,” he said, “that a right-hand drive is much more convenient for kissing a girl than a left-hand.”
“You fool,” she laughed.
“Then you do care for me a little?”
“I’ve worshipped you ever since I first saw you.”
“But with the reserve of a well-brought-up young woman who will not give free rein to her emotions until she’s quite sure it’s prudent?” he answered, tenderly chaffing her.
But she answered seriously:
“I’ve suffered so much in my short life, I didn’t want to expose myself to a suffering perhaps greater than I could bear.”
“I adore you.”
She had never known such happiness; indeed, she could hardly bring herself to believe it: at that moment her heart overflowed with gratitude to life.
She would have liked to sit there, nestling in his arms, for ever; at that moment she would have liked to die.
But she bestirred herself.
“Let us go to your mother,” she said.
She felt on a sudden warm with love for that woman who but just knew her, and yet, contrary to all expectation, because her son loved her, because with her sharp eyes she had seen that she deeply loved her son, had consented, even gladly, to their marriage.
Lydia did not think there could be another woman in France who was capable of such a sacrifice.
They drove off.
Robert parked the car in a street parallel to the one in which he lived.
When they reached the little house he opened the front door with his latchkey and excitedly preceded Lydia into the sitting-room.