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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1428-0.txt b/1428-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a0b5ae --- /dev/null +++ b/1428-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,962 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1428 *** + +LA GRENADIERE + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated By Ellen Marriage + + + + To D. W. + + + + + +LA GRENADIERE + + +La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you go +down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point the +river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, flows +between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly of +white stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest fruit +in the world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient toil of +many generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the face of the +rock reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot climates may +be grown out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + + + +A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of +cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered +houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into the +Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + +La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred +paces from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating back +some two or three hundred years, which you find in every picturesque +spot in Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient space for a +flight of steps descending gradually to the “dike”--the local name for +the embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep the Loire in its +bed, and serve as a causeway for the highroad from Paris to Nantes. At +the top of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow stony footpath between +two terraces, for here the soil is banked up, and walls are built +to prevent landslips. These earthworks, as it were, are crowned with +trellises and espaliers, so that the steep path that lies at the foot of +the upper wall is almost hidden by the trees that grow on the top of the +lower, upon which it lies. The view of the river widens out before you +at every step as you climb to the house. + +At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered +with simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with +wildflowers--moss and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall +on the hillside is decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which +springs up along the cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of +year. + +The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few +trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes--a garden won from +the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade +along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands +against the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and +honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + +The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a +vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that +leads to vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling +trellised vines and pomegranate-trees (the _grenadiers_, which give the +name to the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front +of the house consists of two large windows on either side of a very +rustic-looking house door, and three dormer windows in the roof--a slate +roof with two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to the low +ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; and door, +and first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the attic +windows, all are painted green. + +Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked +staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, the +spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take a +new angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining-room, +floored with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on your right; +to the left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here the walls +are not paneled; they have been covered instead with a saffron-colored +paper, bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters are left visible, +and the intervening spaces filled with a kind of white plaster. + +The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone +chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms beneath. +Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save a single +door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give access to the +vineyard. Against the western wall stands a supplementary timber-framed +structure, all the woodwork exposed to the weather being fledged with +slates, so that the walls are checkered with bluish lines. This shed +(for it is little more) is the kitchen of the establishment. You can +pass from it into the house without going outside; but, nevertheless, +it boasts an entrance door of its own, and a short flight of steps that +brings you to a deep well, and a very rustical-looking pump, half hidden +by water-plants and savin bushes and tall grasses. The kitchen is a +modern addition, proving beyond doubt that La Grenadiere was originally +nothing but a simple _vendangeoir_--a vintage-house belonging to +townsfolk in Tours, from which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast +river-bed of the Loire. The owners only came over for the day for +a picnic, or at the vintage-time, sending provisions across in the +morning, and scarcely ever spent the night there except during the +grape harvest; but the English settled down on Touraine like a cloud of +locusts, and La Grenadiere must, of course, be completed if it was to +find tenants. Luckily, however, this recent appendage is hidden from +sight by the first two trees of a lime-tree avenue planted in a gully +below the vineyards. + +There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the +back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to scramble +up among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing shoots, ends +within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like passage always +damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, fed by the +drainage of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy weather washes +down the manure into the garden on the terrace. + +A vinedresser’s cottage also leans against the western gable, and is +in some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers +surround the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among +the vines; in short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If +by chance man overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a +fig-tree, or sows wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among +the stones. + +Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble +and yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and +wide views of country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of +Touraine--all its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty +of the land are fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, +figs and peaches and pears of every kind; melons are grown out of doors +as easily as licorice plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, and +jessamines from the Azores. The Loire lies at your feet. You look down +from the terrace upon the ever-changing river nearly two hundred feet +below; and in the evening the breeze brings a fresh scent of the sea, +with the fragrance of far-off flowers gathered upon its way. Some cloud +wandering in space, changing its color and form at every moment as +it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can alter every detail in the +widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand ways, from every point +of view. The eye embraces first of all the south bank of the Loire, +stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its suburbs and +buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; further +away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of crescent +of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your view are +the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon broken by +many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to the west you +lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come and go, spreading +their white sails to the winds which seldom fail them in the wide +Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at La Grenadiere, +but certainly it will always be the home of a poet’s desire, and the +sweetest of retreats for two young lovers--for this vintage house, +which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has charms for every +imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as for the most +impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without feeling that +happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is meant by a +peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in the air and the +sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands have a language, +and are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the owner of the vineyard +may sit motionless amid perennial flowers and tempting fruit, and feel +all the stir of the world about him. + +If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a thousand +francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not included. If +the tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is doubled; for the +vintage, it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere be worth, you +wonder; La Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its beaten path and +triple terrace, its two acres of vineyard, its flowering roses about +the balustrades, its worn steps, well-head, rampant clematis, and +cosmopolitan trees? It is idle to make a bid! La Grenadiere will never +be in the market; it was brought once and sold, but that was in 1690; +and the owner parted with it for forty thousand francs, reluctant as +any Arab of the desert to relinquish a favorite horse. Since then it +has remained in the same family, its pride, its patrimonial jewel, its +Regent diamond. “While you behold, you have and hold,” says the bard. +And from La Grenadiere you behold three valleys of Touraine and the +cathedral towers aloft in air like a bit of filigree work. How can one +pay for such treasures? Could one ever pay for the health recovered +there under the linden-trees? + +In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady +with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen +years old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look +for a house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance +from the town was an inducement to live there. + +She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two rooms +above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. The +dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the little +family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; there was +nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The walnut-wood +furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, and the +whole charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony with its +surroundings. + +It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady +(Mme. Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle or +higher classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. Her +plain dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but her +manners might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had not +lived at Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve excited +the curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in the country, +watch anybody or anything that promises to bring some interest into +their narrow lives. + +Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but +delicately shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace +of her instep and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of slenderness; +her gloved hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting patches of deep +red in a pale face, which must have been fresh and softly colored once. +Premature wrinkles had withered the delicately modeled forehead beneath +the coronet of soft, well-set chestnut hair, invariably wound about her +head in two plaits, a girlish coiffure which suited the melancholy face. +There was a deceptive look of calm in the dark eyes, with the hollow, +shadowy circles about them; sometimes, when she was off her guard, their +expression told of secret anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat +long; but happiness and health had perhaps filled and perfected the +outlines. A forced smile, full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on +her pale lips; but when the children, who were always with her, looked +up at their mother, or asked one of the incessant idle questions which +convey so much to a mother’s ears, then the smile brightened, and +expressed the joys of a mother’s love. Her gait was slow and dignified. +Her dress never varied; evidently she had made up her mind to think no +more of her toilette, and to forget a world by which she meant no doubt +to be forgotten. She wore a long, black gown, confined at the waist by +a watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf a lawn handkerchief with a +broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly through her waistband. The +instinct of dress showed itself in that she was daintily shod, and gray +silk stockings carried out the suggestion of mourning in this unvarying +costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after the English fashion, +always of the same shape and the same gray material, and a black veil. +Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked very ill. On fine +evenings she would take her only walk, down to the bridge of Tours, +bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, cool air along +the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a landscape as wide as the +Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + +During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice +into Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him +to give her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and +mathematics; and a second time to make arrangements for the children’s +lessons. But her appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice +a week, was quite enough to excite the interest of almost all the +inhabitants of Tours, who make a regular promenade of the bridge. +Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant, +a provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless +inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for certain +of the newcomer’s rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the owner of +La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name under which +the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, therefore, in all +probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of Brandon. This, of +course, must be her husband’s name. Events, which will be narrated in +their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no further than the +little world of men of business known to the landlord. + +So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. +Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully +natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all that +she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness, +her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so +much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more +sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady +inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to +speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their +letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens’ practice +to throw all the letters which she received into the fire, as if she +meant that the time spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any +outside cares even of the slightest. She might have come to the +enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of living. + +The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with +something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw +there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and +the children. + +The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could +not see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. +Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent +complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, +the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + +The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything +about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high +brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He was +quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a trace +of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to think about +everything that he saw. + +Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though +a lock here and there had deepened to the mother’s chestnut tint. +Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle +grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There was +a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was something +feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, wavy curls, +and his mother would not have him give up embroidered collars, and +little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped buttons; evidently +she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the costume, a source of as +much interest to the mother as to the child. The elder boy’s plain white +collar, turned down over a closely fitting jacket, made a contrast with +his brother’s clothing, but the color and material were the same; the +two brothers were otherwise dressed alike, and looked alike. + +No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which Louis +took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the older boy’s +eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of gratitude to +Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from the stem that +bore them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same ray of sunlight; +but the one was a brightly colored flower, the other somewhat bleached +and pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in their mother’s voice, +they grew heedful, turned to look at her and listened, and did at once +what they were bidden, or asked, or recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens +had so accustomed them to understand her wishes and desires, that the +three seemed to have their thoughts in common. When they went for a +walk, and the children, absorbed in their play, ran away to gather +a flower or to look at some insect, she watched them with such deep +tenderness in her eyes, that the most indifferent passer-by would feel +moved, and stop and smile at the children, and give the mother a glance +of friendly greeting. Who would not have admired the dainty neatness of +their dress, their sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, +the promise in their faces, the innate something that told of careful +training from the cradle? They seemed as if they had never shed tears +nor wailed like other children. Their mother knew, as it were, by +electrically swift intuition, the desires and the pains which she +anticipated and relieved. She seemed to dread a complaint from one of +them more than the loss of her soul. Everything in her children did +honor to their mother’s training. Their threefold life, seemingly +one life, called up vague, fond thoughts; it was like a vision of the +dreamed-of bliss of a better world. And the three, so attuned to each +other, lived in truth such a life as one might picture for them at first +sight--the ordered, simple, and regular life best suited for a child’s +education. + +Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, +a habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere petition +had been put up every morning on their mother’s bed, and begun and ended +by a kiss. Then the two brothers went through their morning toilet as +scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had been trained in +habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary to health of +body and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense of wellbeing. +Conscientiously they went through their duties, so afraid were they +lest their mother should say when she kissed them at breakfast-time, +“My darling children, where can you have been to have such black +finger-nails already?” Then the two went out into the garden and shook +off the dreams of the night in the morning air and dew, until sweeping +and dusting operations were completed, and they could learn their +lessons in the sitting-room until their mother joined them. But although +it was understood that they must not go to their mother’s room before a +certain hour, they peeped in at the door continually; and these morning +inroads, made in defiance of the original compact, were delicious +moments for all three. Marie sprang upon the bed to put his arms around +his idolized mother, and Louis, kneeling by the pillow, took her hand +in his. Then came inquiries, anxious as a lover’s, followed by angelic +laughter, passionate childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, +and the little ones’ stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories +seldom finished, though the listener’s interest never failed. + +“Have you been industrious?” their mother would ask, but in tones +so sweet and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a +misfortune, and to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied +with himself. + +She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the children’s +work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and that all her +thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful instinct, neither +selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent beginnings of +sentiment teaches children to know whether or not they are the first and +sole thought, to find out those who love to think of them and for them. +If you really love children, the dear little ones, with open hearts and +unerring sense of justice, are marvelously ready to respond to love. +Their love knows passion and jealousy and the most gracious delicacy +of feeling; they find the tenderest words of expression; they trust +you--put an entire belief in you. Perhaps there are no undutiful +children without undutiful mothers, for a child’s affection is always +in proportion to the affection that it receives--in early care, in the +first words that it hears, in the response of the eyes to which a child +first looks for love and life. All these things draw them closer to the +mother or drive them apart. God lays the child under the mother’s heart, +that she may learn that for a long time to come her heart must be +its home. And yet--there are mothers cruelly slighted, mothers whose +sublime, pathetic tenderness meets only a harsh return, a hideous +ingratitude which shows how difficult it is to lay down hard-and-fast +rules in matters of feeling. + +Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and mother +had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived one life, +a life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in the morning, +Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in her, even +those thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, with a +precocious power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his mother’s +assertion that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face with uneasy +forebodings; the exact danger he did not know, but dimly he felt it +threatening in those purple rings about her eyes, in the deepening +hollows under them, and the feverish red that deepened in her face. If +Marie’s play began to tire her, his sensitive tact was quick to discover +this, and he would call to his brother: + +“Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!” + +But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the +expression on his mother’s face. She still could find a smile for him, +nay, often there were tears in her eyes when some little thing revealed +her child’s exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of sorrow. + +Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children’s early breakfast and game +of play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be pleasing +in their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things lovely, a +gracious vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of which one can +never have enough. + +She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted from +ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three taking the +meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children played for +an hour, while she--poor woman and happy mother--lay on a long sofa +in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over the soft, +ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to see afresh +in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and sky and the +time of year. + +The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the +terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; +investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all +questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and the +summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country, everything +amuses them. + +Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She +never spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed +attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the words +to gain a general idea of Louis’ progress. If Louis asked a question +that puzzled his master, his mother’s eyes suddenly lighted up, and she +would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of Marie she asked +little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already she treated him, +as it were, respectfully, using all a woman’s, all a mother’s tact to +arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to teach him to think of +himself as capable of great things. She did this with a secret purpose, +which Louis was to understand in the future; nay, he understood it +already. + +Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, +and asked strict account of Louis’ progress. So kindly and so winning +was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where +Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came +dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned +till bedtime. + +So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and amusements +left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and quarreling +were impossible. The mother’s boundless love made everything smooth. +She taught her little sons moderation by refusing them nothing, and +submission by making them see underlying Necessity in its many forms; +she put heart into them with timely praise; developing and strengthening +all that was best in their natures with the care of a good fairy. Tears +sometimes rose to her burning eyes as she watched them play, and thought +how they had never caused her the slightest vexation. Happiness +so far-reaching and complete brings such tears, because for us it +represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which we all of us form in our +minds. + +Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, +in looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the +picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children’s voices +as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that told +most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis’ paternal care of Marie, +of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English +and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their +babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing +the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting +no fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness, +concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books, +she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of +biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men, +for little incidents in their history gave her numberless opportunities +of explaining the world and life to her children. She would point +out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had risen from +obscurity; how they had started from the lowest ranks of society, with +no one to look to but themselves, and achieved noble destinies. + +These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis’ lessons, +took place while little Marie slept on his mother’s knee in the quiet of +the summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they ended, +this adorable woman’s sadness always seemed to be doubled; she would +cease to speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes would fill +with tears. + +“Mother, why are you crying?” Louis asked one balmy June evening, just +as the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + +Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child’s neck and +drew him to her. + +“Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless lad +who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother’s, and +I have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will be +alone in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you are +still children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait till +you are big enough and know enough to be Marie’s guardian! But I shall +not live so long. I love you so much that it makes me very unhappy to +think of it. Dear children, if only you do not curse me some day!----” + +“But why should I curse you some day, mother?” + +“Some day,” she said, kissing him on the forehead, “you will find out +that I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, +without”--and she hesitated--“without a father,” she added, and at the +word she burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of +intuition told Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he carried +off Marie, now half awake. An hour later, when his brother was in bed, +he stole down and out to the summer-house where his mother was sitting. + +“Louis! come here.” + +The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang to +his mother’s arms, and the two held each other in an almost convulsive +embrace. + +“_Cherie_,” he said at last, the name by which he often called her, +finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, +“_cherie_, why are you afraid that you are going to die?” + +“I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there is +no cure for my illness; I know that.” + +“What is the matter with you?” + +“Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never +know.--You must not know what caused my death.” + +The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at +his mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the +clouds. It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his +mother would die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he could +not guess. He respected her long musings. If he had been rather older, +he would have read happy memories blended with thoughts of repentance, +the whole story of a woman’s life in that sublime face--the careless +childhood, the loveless marriage, a terrible passion, flowers springing +up in storm and struck down by the thunderbolt into an abyss from which +there is no return. + +“Darling mother,” Louis said at last, “why do you hide your pain from +me?” + +“My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers,” she said; “we +should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor +think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family life, +conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah me! +then think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, hiding +her sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure the ills of +life.” + +She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand +the mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and +consideration that it gives, and its bearing on social position; +the honorable means of gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a +training. Then she told him that one of the chief causes of her sadness +and her tears was the thought that, on the morrow of her death, he and +Marie would be left almost resourceless, with but a slender stock of +money, and no friend but God. + +“How quick I must be about learning!” cried Louis, giving her a piteous, +searching look. + +“Oh! how happy I am!” she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. +“He understands me!--Louis,” she went on, “you will be your brother’s +guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a child!” + +“Yes, I promise,” he said; “but you are not going to die yet--say that +you are not going to die!” + +“Poor little ones!” she replied, “love for you keeps the life in me. And +this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps----” + +“You make me love Touraine more than ever,” said the child. + +From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, +spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his work, +grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than heretofore. When +he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up boisterous games, +there was less noise in the hollow pathways and gardens and terraced +walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives to their mother’s +melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and wan, there were +hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead grew deeper night +after night. + +August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, +and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and +gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow decline +in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an impassioned soul +and intense love of her children. Old Annette seemed to see that death +was very near. That mistress, beautiful still, was more careful of her +appearance than she had ever been; she was at pains to adorn her wasted +self, and wore paint on her cheeks; but often while she walked on the +upper terrace with the children, Annette’s wrinkled face would peer out +from between the savin trees by the pump. The old woman would forget her +work, and stand with wet linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back +her tears at the sight of Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting +woman she once had been. + +The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it +was a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the walk +to the bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis had +almost identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with his +suddenly developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and +exhaustion under the red color, and constantly found reasons for taking +some shorter walk. + +So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of +Tours, and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the “dike,” + saw a pale, thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet bright +face, gliding like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering +cannot be concealed. The vinedresser’s household had grown quiet also. +Sometimes the laborer and his wife and children were gathered about the +door of their cottage, while Annette was washing linen at the well-head, +and Mme. Willemsens and the children sat in the summer-house, and there +was not the faintest sound in those gardens gay with flowers. Unknown to +Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew pitiful at the sight of her, she was +so good, so thoughtful, so dignified with those with whom she came in +contact. + +And as for her.--When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and bright +in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and healthful +influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the ravages of +mysterious disease--she saw no one but her children, taking the utmost +that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been her last. + +Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense +progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far +as equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive +geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass the +entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + +Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was +a lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly +face, medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy’s imagination, +and the officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes +sparkled with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and eager +for information, used to follow in the lieutenant’s wake for the chance +of a chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend and +comrade in the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the rolls +like himself; and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning what +life was like in camp or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he plied +the veterans with questions; and when he had made up his mind to the +hardships of their rough callings, he asked his mother’s leave to take +country walks by way of amusement. Mme. Willemsens was beyond measure +glad that he should ask; the boy’s astonished masters had told her that +he was overworking himself. So Louis went for long walks. He tried to +inure himself to fatigue, climbed the tallest trees with incredible +quickness, learned to swim, watched through the night. He was not like +the same boy; he was a young man already, with a sunburned face, and a +something in his expression that told of deep purpose. + +When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The +sunshine, reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the +rocks, raised the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm +and soft as the atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the +faculty recommend the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit +under the shade of green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered +from her now. Lessons had come to an end. Mother and children wished to +live the life of heart and heart together, with no disturbing element, +no outside cares. No tears now, no joyous outcries. The elder boy, lying +in the grass at his mother’s side, basked in her eyes like a lover and +kissed her feet. Marie, the restless one, gathered flowers for her, and +brought them with a subdued look, standing on tiptoe to put a girlish +kiss on her lips. And the pale woman, with the great tired eyes and +languid movements, never uttered a word of complaint, and smiled upon +her children, so full of life and health--it was a sublime picture, +lacking no melancholy autumn pomp of yellow leaves and half-despoiled +branches, nor the softened sunlight and pale clouds of the skies of +Touraine. + +At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every day +it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children were +always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano for +the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the instrument; +and at the window she could see her children standing with their heads +close together. Again and again she looked from the children to the +landscape, and then again at the children. Her face flushed, her fingers +flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. This was her last +great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her own soul by the +spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he ordered her to stay in +bed. The alarming dictum was received with bewildered silence. + +When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + +“Louis,” she said, “take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my +country once more.” + +The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his +mother out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps unconsciously, +to heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it would have been hard +to say whether heaven or earth was the fairer--for the clouds traced +shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine glaciers, against the sky. +Mme. Willemsens’ brows contracted vehemently; there was a look of +anguish and remorse in her eyes. She caught the children’s hands, and +clutched them to a heavily-throbbing heart. + +“‘Parentage unknown!’” she cried, with a look that went to their hearts. +“Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty years +old, what strict account may you not require of my life and your own?” + +She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the balustrade, +stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, fearful of all +eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw Louis and Marie +kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they watched the +expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + +“If only I could take that smile with me!” she said, drying her eyes. + +Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only +leave for her coffin. + +A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis took +it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their eyes +from the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in all +our lives, the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath lest it +should be the last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On the fifth +day of that fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the room. The +illusions of life were going one by one. + +Then Marie and his brother felt their mother’s lips hot as fire beneath +their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. Willemsens was +too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was left in disorder. +This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung so persistently to +the graces of life, meant the beginning of the death-agony. After this, +Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday night, in the midst of the +deepest silence, when Louis thought that she had grown drowsy, he saw a +white, moist hand move the curtain in the lamplight. + +“My son!” she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman’s +tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent reaction +on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow of his +bones. + +“What is it, mother?” + +“Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no +more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make +some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take +the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will +find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, +and on the other MARIE.” + +“Here they are, mother.” + +“Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. Give +them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them when +you need them. Now,” she continued, “is there not another paper as well, +something in my handwriting?” + +“Yes, mother,” and Louis began to read, “_Marie Willemsens, born +at_----” + +“That is enough,” she broke in quickly, “do not go on. When I am +dead, give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the +registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death +is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter +which I will dictate to you.” + +When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for the +words, they came from her quietly:-- + +“Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near +Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you.” + +“Sign yourself----” she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + +“Are you feeling worse?” asked Louis. + +“Put ‘Louis-Gaston,’” she went on. + +She sighed, then she went on. + +“Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde +Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the +letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now,” she added, after a +pause, “take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear +child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it,” she said, when Louis +had returned to her side. “That is all your own. Oh me! you would have +been better off if your father----” + +“My father,” cried the boy, “where is he?” + +“He is dead,” she said, laying her finger on her lips; “he died to save +my honor and my life.” + +She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have +wept for pain. + +“Louis,” she continued, “swear to me, as I lie here, that you will +forget all that you have written, all that I have told you.” + +“Yes, mother.” + +“Kiss me, dear angel.” + +She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from +God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her. + +“Listen,” she began. “Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have +in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead +the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours +then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go +out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette’s future +secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay +at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?” + +She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her +bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale +with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + +“I have thought it over, mother,” he answered in a deep voice. “I will +take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs +to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after +Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest, +and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to +be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace, +my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall +go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his +bent.” + +A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman’s eyes. Two tears brimmed over, +and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped between her +lips. The sudden joy of finding the father’s spirit in the son, who had +grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + +“Angel of heaven,” she cried, weeping, “by one word you have effaced all +my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.--This is my son,” she said, “I bore, I +reared this man,” and she raised her hands above her, and clasped them +as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + +“Mother, your face is growing pale!” cried the lad. + +“Some one must go for a priest,” she answered, with a dying voice. + +Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the +parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + +When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the most +touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, with +Annette and the vinedresser’s family, simple folk, who had already +become part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by a +chorister, a peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the +dying mother received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! +sublime word, containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only +possessed by the apostolic religion of the Roman church. + +“This woman has suffered greatly!” the old cure said in his simple way. + +Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed upon +her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing in the +deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals a deep +sigh told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within her; then +at last it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. He, poor +child, was still too young to know what death meant. + +Annette and the vinedresser’s wife closed the eyes of the adorable +woman, whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then the +women took possession of the chamber of death, removed the furniture, +wrapped the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon the couch. They +lit tapers about her, and arranged everything--the crucifix, the sprigs +of box, and the holy-water stoup--after the custom of the countryside, +bolting the shutters and drawing the curtains. Later the curate came to +pass the night in prayer with Louis, who refused to leave his mother. On +Tuesday morning an old woman and two children and a vinedresser’s wife +followed the dead to her grave. These were the only mourners. Yet +this was a woman whose wit and beauty and charm had won a European +reputation, a woman whose funeral, if it had taken place in London, +would have been recorded in pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a sort of +aristocratic rite, if she had not committed the sweetest of crimes, a +crime always expiated in this world, so that the pardoned spirit may +enter heaven. Marie cried when they threw the earth on his mother’s +coffin; he understood that he should see her no more. + +A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this inscription, +due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:-- + + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + _Pray for her!_ + +When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a +last look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with +Annette, leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand over +everything duly to the proper authorities. + +At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen +door, and took him aside with, “Here is madame’s ring, Monsieur Louis.” + +The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so +deeply that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this +supreme piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman’s neck. Then +the three set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and so +to Tours, without turning their heads. + +“Mamma used to come there!” Marie said when they reached the bridge. + +Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de la +Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin’s house, meaning that +they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his plans, +gave Marie’s certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs into her +keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to school. + +Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. +Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn +parting words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would now +be left alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, and +put his arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear from his +eyes, and went, turning again and again till the very last to see his +brother standing there in the gateway of the school. + + + +A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, +left the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the corvette +Iris, he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it became +indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little while +he felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, lost and +alone in the world and in life. + +“There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all,” said an old +sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + +The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, and +resigned himself to a sailor’s life. He was a father. + + +ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + + Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + + Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + + Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1428 *** diff --git a/1428-h/1428-h.htm b/1428-h/1428-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..370e2c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1428-h/1428-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1133 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1428 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LA GRENADIERE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By Ellen Marriage + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + To D. W. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> LA GRENADIERE </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + LA GRENADIERE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you go + down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point the + river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, flows + between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly of white + stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest fruit in the + world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient toil of many + generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the face of the rock + reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot climates may be grown + out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + </p> + <p> + A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of + cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered + houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into the + Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + </p> + <p> + La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred paces + from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating back some two + or three hundred years, which you find in every picturesque spot in + Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient space for a flight of + steps descending gradually to the “dike”—the local name for the + embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep the Loire in its bed, + and serve as a causeway for the highroad from Paris to Nantes. At the top + of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow stony footpath between two + terraces, for here the soil is banked up, and walls are built to prevent + landslips. These earthworks, as it were, are crowned with trellises and + espaliers, so that the steep path that lies at the foot of the upper wall + is almost hidden by the trees that grow on the top of the lower, upon + which it lies. The view of the river widens out before you at every step + as you climb to the house. + </p> + <p> + At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered with + simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with wildflowers—moss + and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall on the hillside is + decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which springs up along the + cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of year. + </p> + <p> + The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few + trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes—a garden won from + the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade + along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands against + the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and + honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + </p> + <p> + The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a + vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that leads to + vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling trellised + vines and pomegranate-trees (the <i>grenadiers</i>, which give the name to + the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front of the house + consists of two large windows on either side of a very rustic-looking + house door, and three dormer windows in the roof—a slate roof with + two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to the low + ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; and door, and + first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the attic windows, all + are painted green. + </p> + <p> + Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked + staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, the + spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take a new + angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining-room, floored + with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on your right; to the + left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here the walls are not + paneled; they have been covered instead with a saffron-colored paper, + bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters are left visible, and the + intervening spaces filled with a kind of white plaster. + </p> + <p> + The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone + chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms beneath. + Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save a single + door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give access to the + vineyard. Against the western wall stands a supplementary timber-framed + structure, all the woodwork exposed to the weather being fledged with + slates, so that the walls are checkered with bluish lines. This shed (for + it is little more) is the kitchen of the establishment. You can pass from + it into the house without going outside; but, nevertheless, it boasts an + entrance door of its own, and a short flight of steps that brings you to a + deep well, and a very rustical-looking pump, half hidden by water-plants + and savin bushes and tall grasses. The kitchen is a modern addition, + proving beyond doubt that La Grenadiere was originally nothing but a + simple <i>vendangeoir</i>—a vintage-house belonging to townsfolk in + Tours, from which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast river-bed of the + Loire. The owners only came over for the day for a picnic, or at the + vintage-time, sending provisions across in the morning, and scarcely ever + spent the night there except during the grape harvest; but the English + settled down on Touraine like a cloud of locusts, and La Grenadiere must, + of course, be completed if it was to find tenants. Luckily, however, this + recent appendage is hidden from sight by the first two trees of a + lime-tree avenue planted in a gully below the vineyards. + </p> + <p> + There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the + back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to scramble up + among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing shoots, ends + within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like passage always + damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, fed by the drainage + of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy weather washes down the + manure into the garden on the terrace. + </p> + <p> + A vinedresser’s cottage also leans against the western gable, and is in + some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers surround + the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among the vines; in + short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If by chance man + overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a fig-tree, or sows + wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among the stones. + </p> + <p> + Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble and + yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and wide views of + country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of Touraine—all + its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty of the land are + fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, figs and peaches and + pears of every kind; melons are grown out of doors as easily as licorice + plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, and jessamines from the Azores. + The Loire lies at your feet. You look down from the terrace upon the + ever-changing river nearly two hundred feet below; and in the evening the + breeze brings a fresh scent of the sea, with the fragrance of far-off + flowers gathered upon its way. Some cloud wandering in space, changing its + color and form at every moment as it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can + alter every detail in the widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand + ways, from every point of view. The eye embraces first of all the south + bank of the Loire, stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its + suburbs and buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; + further away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of + crescent of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your + view are the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon + broken by many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to the + west you lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come and go, + spreading their white sails to the winds which seldom fail them in the + wide Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at La Grenadiere, + but certainly it will always be the home of a poet’s desire, and the + sweetest of retreats for two young lovers—for this vintage house, + which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has charms for every + imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as for the most + impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without feeling that + happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is meant by a + peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in the air and the + sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands have a language, and + are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the owner of the vineyard may sit + motionless amid perennial flowers and tempting fruit, and feel all the + stir of the world about him. + </p> + <p> + If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a thousand + francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not included. If the + tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is doubled; for the vintage, + it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere be worth, you wonder; La + Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its beaten path and triple terrace, + its two acres of vineyard, its flowering roses about the balustrades, its + worn steps, well-head, rampant clematis, and cosmopolitan trees? It is + idle to make a bid! La Grenadiere will never be in the market; it was + brought once and sold, but that was in 1690; and the owner parted with it + for forty thousand francs, reluctant as any Arab of the desert to + relinquish a favorite horse. Since then it has remained in the same + family, its pride, its patrimonial jewel, its Regent diamond. “While you + behold, you have and hold,” says the bard. And from La Grenadiere you + behold three valleys of Touraine and the cathedral towers aloft in air + like a bit of filigree work. How can one pay for such treasures? Could one + ever pay for the health recovered there under the linden-trees? + </p> + <p> + In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady + with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen years + old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look for a + house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance from the + town was an inducement to live there. + </p> + <p> + She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two rooms + above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. The + dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the little + family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; there was + nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The walnut-wood + furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, and the whole + charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony with its + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady (Mme. + Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle or higher + classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. Her plain + dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but her manners + might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had not lived at + Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve excited the + curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in the country, watch + anybody or anything that promises to bring some interest into their narrow + lives. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but delicately + shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace of her instep + and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of slenderness; her gloved + hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting patches of deep red in a + pale face, which must have been fresh and softly colored once. Premature + wrinkles had withered the delicately modeled forehead beneath the coronet + of soft, well-set chestnut hair, invariably wound about her head in two + plaits, a girlish coiffure which suited the melancholy face. There was a + deceptive look of calm in the dark eyes, with the hollow, shadowy circles + about them; sometimes, when she was off her guard, their expression told + of secret anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat long; but happiness + and health had perhaps filled and perfected the outlines. A forced smile, + full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on her pale lips; but when the + children, who were always with her, looked up at their mother, or asked + one of the incessant idle questions which convey so much to a mother’s + ears, then the smile brightened, and expressed the joys of a mother’s + love. Her gait was slow and dignified. Her dress never varied; evidently + she had made up her mind to think no more of her toilette, and to forget a + world by which she meant no doubt to be forgotten. She wore a long, black + gown, confined at the waist by a watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf + a lawn handkerchief with a broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly + through her waistband. The instinct of dress showed itself in that she was + daintily shod, and gray silk stockings carried out the suggestion of + mourning in this unvarying costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after + the English fashion, always of the same shape and the same gray material, + and a black veil. Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked + very ill. On fine evenings she would take her only walk, down to the + bridge of Tours, bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, + cool air along the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a landscape + as wide as the Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + </p> + <p> + During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice into + Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him to give + her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and mathematics; and + a second time to make arrangements for the children’s lessons. But her + appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice a week, was quite + enough to excite the interest of almost all the inhabitants of Tours, who + make a regular promenade of the bridge. Still, in spite of a kind of spy + system, by which no harm is meant, a provincial habit bred of want of + occupation and the restless inquisitiveness of the principal society, + nothing was known for certain of the newcomer’s rank, fortune, or real + condition. Only, the owner of La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends + that the name under which the stranger had signed the lease (her real + name, therefore, in all probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of + Brandon. This, of course, must be her husband’s name. Events, which will + be narrated in their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no + further than the little world of men of business known to the landlord. + </p> + <p> + So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. Hers + was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully natural, + the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,—this was all that she + suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness, her + beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so much + to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more sincere + the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady inspired awe, + and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to speak to her. + Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their letters must have + been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens’ practice to throw all the + letters which she received into the fire, as if she meant that the time + spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any outside cares even of the + slightest. She might have come to the enchanting retreat to give herself + up wholly to the joy of living. + </p> + <p> + The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with + something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw + there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and + the children. + </p> + <p> + The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could not see + them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. Willemsens, + who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent complexion and + bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, the fresh outlines, + the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + </p> + <p> + The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything about + him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high brow, + with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He was quick and + alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a trace of + awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to think about + everything that he saw. + </p> + <p> + Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though a + lock here and there had deepened to the mother’s chestnut tint. + Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle + grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There was a + gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was something + feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, wavy curls, and + his mother would not have him give up embroidered collars, and little + jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped buttons; evidently she took + a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the costume, a source of as much + interest to the mother as to the child. The elder boy’s plain white + collar, turned down over a closely fitting jacket, made a contrast with + his brother’s clothing, but the color and material were the same; the two + brothers were otherwise dressed alike, and looked alike. + </p> + <p> + No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which Louis + took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the older boy’s + eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of gratitude to + Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from the stem that bore + them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same ray of sunlight; but + the one was a brightly colored flower, the other somewhat bleached and + pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in their mother’s voice, they + grew heedful, turned to look at her and listened, and did at once what + they were bidden, or asked, or recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens had so + accustomed them to understand her wishes and desires, that the three + seemed to have their thoughts in common. When they went for a walk, and + the children, absorbed in their play, ran away to gather a flower or to + look at some insect, she watched them with such deep tenderness in her + eyes, that the most indifferent passer-by would feel moved, and stop and + smile at the children, and give the mother a glance of friendly greeting. + Who would not have admired the dainty neatness of their dress, their + sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, the promise in their + faces, the innate something that told of careful training from the cradle? + They seemed as if they had never shed tears nor wailed like other + children. Their mother knew, as it were, by electrically swift intuition, + the desires and the pains which she anticipated and relieved. She seemed + to dread a complaint from one of them more than the loss of her soul. + Everything in her children did honor to their mother’s training. Their + threefold life, seemingly one life, called up vague, fond thoughts; it was + like a vision of the dreamed-of bliss of a better world. And the three, so + attuned to each other, lived in truth such a life as one might picture for + them at first sight—the ordered, simple, and regular life best + suited for a child’s education. + </p> + <p> + Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, a + habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere petition had + been put up every morning on their mother’s bed, and begun and ended by a + kiss. Then the two brothers went through their morning toilet as + scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had been trained in + habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary to health of body + and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense of wellbeing. + Conscientiously they went through their duties, so afraid were they lest + their mother should say when she kissed them at breakfast-time, “My + darling children, where can you have been to have such black finger-nails + already?” Then the two went out into the garden and shook off the dreams + of the night in the morning air and dew, until sweeping and dusting + operations were completed, and they could learn their lessons in the + sitting-room until their mother joined them. But although it was + understood that they must not go to their mother’s room before a certain + hour, they peeped in at the door continually; and these morning inroads, + made in defiance of the original compact, were delicious moments for all + three. Marie sprang upon the bed to put his arms around his idolized + mother, and Louis, kneeling by the pillow, took her hand in his. Then came + inquiries, anxious as a lover’s, followed by angelic laughter, passionate + childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, and the little ones’ + stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories seldom finished, though + the listener’s interest never failed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been industrious?” their mother would ask, but in tones so sweet + and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a misfortune, and + to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied with himself. + </p> + <p> + She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the children’s + work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and that all her + thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful instinct, neither + selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent beginnings of sentiment + teaches children to know whether or not they are the first and sole + thought, to find out those who love to think of them and for them. If you + really love children, the dear little ones, with open hearts and unerring + sense of justice, are marvelously ready to respond to love. Their love + knows passion and jealousy and the most gracious delicacy of feeling; they + find the tenderest words of expression; they trust you—put an entire + belief in you. Perhaps there are no undutiful children without undutiful + mothers, for a child’s affection is always in proportion to the affection + that it receives—in early care, in the first words that it hears, in + the response of the eyes to which a child first looks for love and life. + All these things draw them closer to the mother or drive them apart. God + lays the child under the mother’s heart, that she may learn that for a + long time to come her heart must be its home. And yet—there are + mothers cruelly slighted, mothers whose sublime, pathetic tenderness meets + only a harsh return, a hideous ingratitude which shows how difficult it is + to lay down hard-and-fast rules in matters of feeling. + </p> + <p> + Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and mother + had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived one life, a + life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in the morning, + Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in her, even those + thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, with a precocious + power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his mother’s assertion + that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face with uneasy forebodings; + the exact danger he did not know, but dimly he felt it threatening in + those purple rings about her eyes, in the deepening hollows under them, + and the feverish red that deepened in her face. If Marie’s play began to + tire her, his sensitive tact was quick to discover this, and he would call + to his brother: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!” + </p> + <p> + But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the expression + on his mother’s face. She still could find a smile for him, nay, often + there were tears in her eyes when some little thing revealed her child’s + exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children’s early breakfast and game of + play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be pleasing in + their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things lovely, a gracious + vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of which one can never have + enough. + </p> + <p> + She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted from + ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three taking the + meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children played for an + hour, while she—poor woman and happy mother—lay on a long sofa + in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over the soft, + ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to see afresh in + all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and sky and the time + of year. + </p> + <p> + The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the terraces, + chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; investigating flowers + and seeds and insects, continually referring all questions to their + mother, running to and fro between the garden and the summer-house. + Children have no need of toys in the country, everything amuses them. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She never + spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed attentively + all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the words to gain a + general idea of Louis’ progress. If Louis asked a question that puzzled + his master, his mother’s eyes suddenly lighted up, and she would smile and + glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of Marie she asked little. Her desire + was with her eldest son. Already she treated him, as it were, + respectfully, using all a woman’s, all a mother’s tact to arouse the + spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to teach him to think of himself as + capable of great things. She did this with a secret purpose, which Louis + was to understand in the future; nay, he understood it already. + </p> + <p> + Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, and + asked strict account of Louis’ progress. So kindly and so winning was her + manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where Louis was + weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came dinner, and + play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned till bedtime. + </p> + <p> + So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and amusements + left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and quarreling were + impossible. The mother’s boundless love made everything smooth. She taught + her little sons moderation by refusing them nothing, and submission by + making them see underlying Necessity in its many forms; she put heart into + them with timely praise; developing and strengthening all that was best in + their natures with the care of a good fairy. Tears sometimes rose to her + burning eyes as she watched them play, and thought how they had never + caused her the slightest vexation. Happiness so far-reaching and complete + brings such tears, because for us it represents the dim imaginings of + Heaven which we all of us form in our minds. + </p> + <p> + Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, in + looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the + picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children’s voices as + they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that told most + plainly of their union of heart, of Louis’ paternal care of Marie, of the + love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English and French equally + well (they had had an English nurse since their babyhood), so their mother + talked to them in both languages; directing the bent of their childish + minds with admirable skill, admitting no fallacious reasoning, no bad + principle. She ruled by kindness, concealing nothing, explaining + everything. If Louis wished for books, she was careful to give him + interesting yet accurate books—books of biography, the lives of + great seamen, great captains, and famous men, for little incidents in + their history gave her numberless opportunities of explaining the world + and life to her children. She would point out the ways in which men, + really great in themselves, had risen from obscurity; how they had started + from the lowest ranks of society, with no one to look to but themselves, + and achieved noble destinies. + </p> + <p> + These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis’ lessons, took + place while little Marie slept on his mother’s knee in the quiet of the + summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they ended, this + adorable woman’s sadness always seemed to be doubled; she would cease to + speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes would fill with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, why are you crying?” Louis asked one balmy June evening, just as + the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + </p> + <p> + Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child’s neck and + drew him to her. + </p> + <p> + “Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless lad + who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother’s, and I + have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will be alone + in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you are still + children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait till you are + big enough and know enough to be Marie’s guardian! But I shall not live so + long. I love you so much that it makes me very unhappy to think of it. + Dear children, if only you do not curse me some day!——” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I curse you some day, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” she said, kissing him on the forehead, “you will find out that + I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, without”—and + she hesitated—“without a father,” she added, and at the word she + burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of intuition told + Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he carried off Marie, now + half awake. An hour later, when his brother was in bed, he stole down and + out to the summer-house where his mother was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Louis! come here.” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang to + his mother’s arms, and the two held each other in an almost convulsive + embrace. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Cherie</i>,” he said at last, the name by which he often called her, + finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, “<i>cherie</i>, + why are you afraid that you are going to die?” + </p> + <p> + “I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there is + no cure for my illness; I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never know.—You + must not know what caused my death.” + </p> + <p> + The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at his + mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the clouds. + It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his mother would + die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he could not guess. He + respected her long musings. If he had been rather older, he would have + read happy memories blended with thoughts of repentance, the whole story + of a woman’s life in that sublime face—the careless childhood, the + loveless marriage, a terrible passion, flowers springing up in storm and + struck down by the thunderbolt into an abyss from which there is no + return. + </p> + <p> + “Darling mother,” Louis said at last, “why do you hide your pain from me?” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers,” she said; “we + should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor + think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family life, + conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah me! then + think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, hiding her + sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure the ills of + life.” + </p> + <p> + She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand the + mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and consideration + that it gives, and its bearing on social position; the honorable means of + gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a training. Then she told him + that one of the chief causes of her sadness and her tears was the thought + that, on the morrow of her death, he and Marie would be left almost + resourceless, with but a slender stock of money, and no friend but God. + </p> + <p> + “How quick I must be about learning!” cried Louis, giving her a piteous, + searching look. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how happy I am!” she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. “He + understands me!—Louis,” she went on, “you will be your brother’s + guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a child!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I promise,” he said; “but you are not going to die yet—say + that you are not going to die!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little ones!” she replied, “love for you keeps the life in me. And + this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “You make me love Touraine more than ever,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, + spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his work, + grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than heretofore. When he + had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up boisterous games, there was + less noise in the hollow pathways and gardens and terraced walks of La + Grenadiere. They adapted their lives to their mother’s melancholy. Day by + day her face was growing pale and wan, there were hollows now in her + temples, the lines in her forehead grew deeper night after night. + </p> + <p> + August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, and + their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and gloomy as + she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow decline in the + mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an impassioned soul and intense + love of her children. Old Annette seemed to see that death was very near. + That mistress, beautiful still, was more careful of her appearance than + she had ever been; she was at pains to adorn her wasted self, and wore + paint on her cheeks; but often while she walked on the upper terrace with + the children, Annette’s wrinkled face would peer out from between the + savin trees by the pump. The old woman would forget her work, and stand + with wet linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back her tears at the + sight of Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting woman she once had + been. + </p> + <p> + The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it was + a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the walk to the + bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis had almost + identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with his suddenly + developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and exhaustion under + the red color, and constantly found reasons for taking some shorter walk. + </p> + <p> + So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of Tours, + and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the “dike,” saw a pale, + thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet bright face, gliding + like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering cannot be concealed. The + vinedresser’s household had grown quiet also. Sometimes the laborer and + his wife and children were gathered about the door of their cottage, while + Annette was washing linen at the well-head, and Mme. Willemsens and the + children sat in the summer-house, and there was not the faintest sound in + those gardens gay with flowers. Unknown to Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew + pitiful at the sight of her, she was so good, so thoughtful, so dignified + with those with whom she came in contact. + </p> + <p> + And as for her.—When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and + bright in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and + healthful influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the + ravages of mysterious disease—she saw no one but her children, + taking the utmost that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been + her last. + </p> + <p> + Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense + progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far as + equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive + geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass the + entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was a + lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly face, + medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy’s imagination, and the + officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes sparkled + with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and eager for + information, used to follow in the lieutenant’s wake for the chance of a + chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend and comrade in + the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the rolls like himself; + and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning what life was like in camp + or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he plied the veterans with questions; + and when he had made up his mind to the hardships of their rough callings, + he asked his mother’s leave to take country walks by way of amusement. + Mme. Willemsens was beyond measure glad that he should ask; the boy’s + astonished masters had told her that he was overworking himself. So Louis + went for long walks. He tried to inure himself to fatigue, climbed the + tallest trees with incredible quickness, learned to swim, watched through + the night. He was not like the same boy; he was a young man already, with + a sunburned face, and a something in his expression that told of deep + purpose. + </p> + <p> + When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The sunshine, + reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the rocks, raised + the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm and soft as the + atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the faculty recommend + the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit under the shade of + green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered from her now. Lessons + had come to an end. Mother and children wished to live the life of heart + and heart together, with no disturbing element, no outside cares. No tears + now, no joyous outcries. The elder boy, lying in the grass at his mother’s + side, basked in her eyes like a lover and kissed her feet. Marie, the + restless one, gathered flowers for her, and brought them with a subdued + look, standing on tiptoe to put a girlish kiss on her lips. And the pale + woman, with the great tired eyes and languid movements, never uttered a + word of complaint, and smiled upon her children, so full of life and + health—it was a sublime picture, lacking no melancholy autumn pomp + of yellow leaves and half-despoiled branches, nor the softened sunlight + and pale clouds of the skies of Touraine. + </p> + <p> + At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every day it + was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children were always + with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano for the last + time. A picture—a Swiss landscape—hung above the instrument; + and at the window she could see her children standing with their heads + close together. Again and again she looked from the children to the + landscape, and then again at the children. Her face flushed, her fingers + flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. This was her last great + day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her own soul by the spirit of + her memories. When the doctor came, he ordered her to stay in bed. The + alarming dictum was received with bewildered silence. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” she said, “take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my + country once more.” + </p> + <p> + The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his mother + out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps unconsciously, to + heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it would have been hard to + say whether heaven or earth was the fairer—for the clouds traced + shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine glaciers, against the sky. Mme. + Willemsens’ brows contracted vehemently; there was a look of anguish and + remorse in her eyes. She caught the children’s hands, and clutched them to + a heavily-throbbing heart. + </p> + <p> + “‘Parentage unknown!’” she cried, with a look that went to their hearts. + “Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty years old, + what strict account may you not require of my life and your own?” + </p> + <p> + She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the balustrade, + stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, fearful of all + eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw Louis and Marie + kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they watched the + expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + </p> + <p> + “If only I could take that smile with me!” she said, drying her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only + leave for her coffin. + </p> + <p> + A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis took + it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their eyes from + the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in all our lives, + the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath lest it should be the + last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On the fifth day of that + fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the room. The illusions of + life were going one by one. + </p> + <p> + Then Marie and his brother felt their mother’s lips hot as fire beneath + their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. Willemsens was + too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was left in disorder. + This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung so persistently to + the graces of life, meant the beginning of the death-agony. After this, + Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday night, in the midst of the + deepest silence, when Louis thought that she had grown drowsy, he saw a + white, moist hand move the curtain in the lamplight. + </p> + <p> + “My son!” she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman’s + tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent reaction + on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow of his bones. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no + more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make some + arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take the key + of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will find two + sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, and on the + other MARIE.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. Give + them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them when you + need them. Now,” she continued, “is there not another paper as well, + something in my handwriting?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” and Louis began to read, “<i>Marie Willemsens, born at</i>——” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough,” she broke in quickly, “do not go on. When I am dead, + give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the registrar + at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death is to be made + out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter which I will + dictate to you.” + </p> + <p> + When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for the + words, they came from her quietly:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near + Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign yourself——” she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you feeling worse?” asked Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Put ‘Louis-Gaston,’” she went on. + </p> + <p> + She sighed, then she went on. + </p> + <p> + “Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde + Park, London, Angleterre.—That is right. When I am dead, post the + letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.—Now,” she added, after a + pause, “take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear + child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it,” she said, when Louis + had returned to her side. “That is all your own. Oh me! you would have + been better off if your father——” + </p> + <p> + “My father,” cried the boy, “where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” she said, laying her finger on her lips; “he died to save my + honor and my life.” + </p> + <p> + She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have wept + for pain. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” she continued, “swear to me, as I lie here, that you will forget + all that you have written, all that I have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, dear angel.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from + God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she began. “Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have + in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead the + lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours then, not + even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go out, poor + orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette’s future secure. She + will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay at Tours no + doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?” + </p> + <p> + She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her + bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale + with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought it over, mother,” he answered in a deep voice. “I will + take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs to + our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after + Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest, + and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to + be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace, my + mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall go to + the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his bent.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman’s eyes. Two tears brimmed over, + and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped between her + lips. The sudden joy of finding the father’s spirit in the son, who had + grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + </p> + <p> + “Angel of heaven,” she cried, weeping, “by one word you have effaced all + my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.—This is my son,” she said, “I bore, + I reared this man,” and she raised her hands above her, and clasped them + as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, your face is growing pale!” cried the lad. + </p> + <p> + “Some one must go for a priest,” she answered, with a dying voice. + </p> + <p> + Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the + parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + </p> + <p> + When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the most + touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, with + Annette and the vinedresser’s family, simple folk, who had already become + part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by a chorister, a + peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the dying mother + received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! sublime word, + containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only possessed by the + apostolic religion of the Roman church. + </p> + <p> + “This woman has suffered greatly!” the old cure said in his simple way. + </p> + <p> + Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed upon + her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing in the + deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals a deep sigh + told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within her; then at last + it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. He, poor child, was + still too young to know what death meant. + </p> + <p> + Annette and the vinedresser’s wife closed the eyes of the adorable woman, + whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then the women + took possession of the chamber of death, removed the furniture, wrapped + the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon the couch. They lit + tapers about her, and arranged everything—the crucifix, the sprigs + of box, and the holy-water stoup—after the custom of the + countryside, bolting the shutters and drawing the curtains. Later the + curate came to pass the night in prayer with Louis, who refused to leave + his mother. On Tuesday morning an old woman and two children and a + vinedresser’s wife followed the dead to her grave. These were the only + mourners. Yet this was a woman whose wit and beauty and charm had won a + European reputation, a woman whose funeral, if it had taken place in + London, would have been recorded in pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a + sort of aristocratic rite, if she had not committed the sweetest of + crimes, a crime always expiated in this world, so that the pardoned spirit + may enter heaven. Marie cried when they threw the earth on his mother’s + coffin; he understood that he should see her no more. + </p> + <p> + A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this inscription, + due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + <i>Pray for her!</i> +</pre> + <p> + When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a last + look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with Annette, + leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand over everything + duly to the proper authorities. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen + door, and took him aside with, “Here is madame’s ring, Monsieur Louis.” + </p> + <p> + The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so deeply + that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this supreme + piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman’s neck. Then the three + set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and so to Tours, + without turning their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma used to come there!” Marie said when they reached the bridge. + </p> + <p> + Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de la + Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin’s house, meaning that + they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his plans, + gave Marie’s certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs into her + keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to school. + </p> + <p> + Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. + Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn parting + words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would now be left + alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, and put his + arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear from his eyes, and + went, turning again and again till the very last to see his brother + standing there in the gateway of the school. + </p> + <p> + A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, left + the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the corvette Iris, + he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it became + indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little while he + felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, lost and alone + in the world and in life. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all,” said an old + sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + </p> + <p> + The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, and + resigned himself to a sailor’s life. He was a father. + </p> + <p> + ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + + Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + + Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1428 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f09ec0c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1428 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1428) diff --git a/old/1428-0.txt b/old/1428-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9389e26 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1428-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1351 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Grenadiere + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Ellen Marriage + +Release Date: August, 1998 [Etext #1428] +Posting Date: February 24, 2010 +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +LA GRENADIERE + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated By Ellen Marriage + + + + To D. W. + + + + + +LA GRENADIERE + + +La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you go +down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point the +river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, flows +between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly of +white stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest fruit +in the world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient toil of +many generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the face of the +rock reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot climates may +be grown out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + + + +A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of +cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered +houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into the +Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + +La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred +paces from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating back +some two or three hundred years, which you find in every picturesque +spot in Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient space for a +flight of steps descending gradually to the “dike”--the local name for +the embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep the Loire in its +bed, and serve as a causeway for the highroad from Paris to Nantes. At +the top of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow stony footpath between +two terraces, for here the soil is banked up, and walls are built +to prevent landslips. These earthworks, as it were, are crowned with +trellises and espaliers, so that the steep path that lies at the foot of +the upper wall is almost hidden by the trees that grow on the top of the +lower, upon which it lies. The view of the river widens out before you +at every step as you climb to the house. + +At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered +with simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with +wildflowers--moss and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall +on the hillside is decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which +springs up along the cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of +year. + +The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few +trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes--a garden won from +the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade +along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands +against the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and +honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + +The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a +vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that +leads to vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling +trellised vines and pomegranate-trees (the _grenadiers_, which give the +name to the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front +of the house consists of two large windows on either side of a very +rustic-looking house door, and three dormer windows in the roof--a slate +roof with two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to the low +ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; and door, +and first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the attic +windows, all are painted green. + +Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked +staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, the +spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take a +new angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining-room, +floored with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on your right; +to the left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here the walls +are not paneled; they have been covered instead with a saffron-colored +paper, bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters are left visible, +and the intervening spaces filled with a kind of white plaster. + +The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone +chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms beneath. +Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save a single +door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give access to the +vineyard. Against the western wall stands a supplementary timber-framed +structure, all the woodwork exposed to the weather being fledged with +slates, so that the walls are checkered with bluish lines. This shed +(for it is little more) is the kitchen of the establishment. You can +pass from it into the house without going outside; but, nevertheless, +it boasts an entrance door of its own, and a short flight of steps that +brings you to a deep well, and a very rustical-looking pump, half hidden +by water-plants and savin bushes and tall grasses. The kitchen is a +modern addition, proving beyond doubt that La Grenadiere was originally +nothing but a simple _vendangeoir_--a vintage-house belonging to +townsfolk in Tours, from which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast +river-bed of the Loire. The owners only came over for the day for +a picnic, or at the vintage-time, sending provisions across in the +morning, and scarcely ever spent the night there except during the +grape harvest; but the English settled down on Touraine like a cloud of +locusts, and La Grenadiere must, of course, be completed if it was to +find tenants. Luckily, however, this recent appendage is hidden from +sight by the first two trees of a lime-tree avenue planted in a gully +below the vineyards. + +There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the +back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to scramble +up among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing shoots, ends +within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like passage always +damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, fed by the +drainage of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy weather washes +down the manure into the garden on the terrace. + +A vinedresser’s cottage also leans against the western gable, and is +in some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers +surround the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among +the vines; in short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If +by chance man overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a +fig-tree, or sows wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among +the stones. + +Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble +and yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and +wide views of country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of +Touraine--all its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty +of the land are fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, +figs and peaches and pears of every kind; melons are grown out of doors +as easily as licorice plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, and +jessamines from the Azores. The Loire lies at your feet. You look down +from the terrace upon the ever-changing river nearly two hundred feet +below; and in the evening the breeze brings a fresh scent of the sea, +with the fragrance of far-off flowers gathered upon its way. Some cloud +wandering in space, changing its color and form at every moment as +it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can alter every detail in the +widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand ways, from every point +of view. The eye embraces first of all the south bank of the Loire, +stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its suburbs and +buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; further +away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of crescent +of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your view are +the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon broken by +many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to the west you +lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come and go, spreading +their white sails to the winds which seldom fail them in the wide +Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at La Grenadiere, +but certainly it will always be the home of a poet’s desire, and the +sweetest of retreats for two young lovers--for this vintage house, +which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has charms for every +imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as for the most +impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without feeling that +happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is meant by a +peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in the air and the +sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands have a language, +and are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the owner of the vineyard +may sit motionless amid perennial flowers and tempting fruit, and feel +all the stir of the world about him. + +If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a thousand +francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not included. If +the tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is doubled; for the +vintage, it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere be worth, you +wonder; La Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its beaten path and +triple terrace, its two acres of vineyard, its flowering roses about +the balustrades, its worn steps, well-head, rampant clematis, and +cosmopolitan trees? It is idle to make a bid! La Grenadiere will never +be in the market; it was brought once and sold, but that was in 1690; +and the owner parted with it for forty thousand francs, reluctant as +any Arab of the desert to relinquish a favorite horse. Since then it +has remained in the same family, its pride, its patrimonial jewel, its +Regent diamond. “While you behold, you have and hold,” says the bard. +And from La Grenadiere you behold three valleys of Touraine and the +cathedral towers aloft in air like a bit of filigree work. How can one +pay for such treasures? Could one ever pay for the health recovered +there under the linden-trees? + +In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady +with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen +years old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look +for a house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance +from the town was an inducement to live there. + +She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two rooms +above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. The +dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the little +family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; there was +nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The walnut-wood +furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, and the +whole charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony with its +surroundings. + +It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady +(Mme. Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle or +higher classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. Her +plain dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but her +manners might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had not +lived at Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve excited +the curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in the country, +watch anybody or anything that promises to bring some interest into +their narrow lives. + +Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but +delicately shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace +of her instep and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of slenderness; +her gloved hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting patches of deep +red in a pale face, which must have been fresh and softly colored once. +Premature wrinkles had withered the delicately modeled forehead beneath +the coronet of soft, well-set chestnut hair, invariably wound about her +head in two plaits, a girlish coiffure which suited the melancholy face. +There was a deceptive look of calm in the dark eyes, with the hollow, +shadowy circles about them; sometimes, when she was off her guard, their +expression told of secret anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat +long; but happiness and health had perhaps filled and perfected the +outlines. A forced smile, full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on +her pale lips; but when the children, who were always with her, looked +up at their mother, or asked one of the incessant idle questions which +convey so much to a mother’s ears, then the smile brightened, and +expressed the joys of a mother’s love. Her gait was slow and dignified. +Her dress never varied; evidently she had made up her mind to think no +more of her toilette, and to forget a world by which she meant no doubt +to be forgotten. She wore a long, black gown, confined at the waist by +a watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf a lawn handkerchief with a +broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly through her waistband. The +instinct of dress showed itself in that she was daintily shod, and gray +silk stockings carried out the suggestion of mourning in this unvarying +costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after the English fashion, +always of the same shape and the same gray material, and a black veil. +Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked very ill. On fine +evenings she would take her only walk, down to the bridge of Tours, +bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, cool air along +the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a landscape as wide as the +Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + +During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice +into Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him +to give her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and +mathematics; and a second time to make arrangements for the children’s +lessons. But her appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice +a week, was quite enough to excite the interest of almost all the +inhabitants of Tours, who make a regular promenade of the bridge. +Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant, +a provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless +inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for certain +of the newcomer’s rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the owner of +La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name under which +the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, therefore, in all +probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of Brandon. This, of +course, must be her husband’s name. Events, which will be narrated in +their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no further than the +little world of men of business known to the landlord. + +So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. +Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully +natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all that +she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness, +her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so +much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more +sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady +inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to +speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their +letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens’ practice +to throw all the letters which she received into the fire, as if she +meant that the time spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any +outside cares even of the slightest. She might have come to the +enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of living. + +The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with +something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw +there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and +the children. + +The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could +not see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. +Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent +complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, +the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + +The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything +about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high +brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He was +quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a trace +of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to think about +everything that he saw. + +Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though +a lock here and there had deepened to the mother’s chestnut tint. +Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle +grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There was +a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was something +feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, wavy curls, +and his mother would not have him give up embroidered collars, and +little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped buttons; evidently +she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the costume, a source of as +much interest to the mother as to the child. The elder boy’s plain white +collar, turned down over a closely fitting jacket, made a contrast with +his brother’s clothing, but the color and material were the same; the +two brothers were otherwise dressed alike, and looked alike. + +No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which Louis +took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the older boy’s +eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of gratitude to +Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from the stem that +bore them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same ray of sunlight; +but the one was a brightly colored flower, the other somewhat bleached +and pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in their mother’s voice, +they grew heedful, turned to look at her and listened, and did at once +what they were bidden, or asked, or recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens +had so accustomed them to understand her wishes and desires, that the +three seemed to have their thoughts in common. When they went for a +walk, and the children, absorbed in their play, ran away to gather +a flower or to look at some insect, she watched them with such deep +tenderness in her eyes, that the most indifferent passer-by would feel +moved, and stop and smile at the children, and give the mother a glance +of friendly greeting. Who would not have admired the dainty neatness of +their dress, their sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, +the promise in their faces, the innate something that told of careful +training from the cradle? They seemed as if they had never shed tears +nor wailed like other children. Their mother knew, as it were, by +electrically swift intuition, the desires and the pains which she +anticipated and relieved. She seemed to dread a complaint from one of +them more than the loss of her soul. Everything in her children did +honor to their mother’s training. Their threefold life, seemingly +one life, called up vague, fond thoughts; it was like a vision of the +dreamed-of bliss of a better world. And the three, so attuned to each +other, lived in truth such a life as one might picture for them at first +sight--the ordered, simple, and regular life best suited for a child’s +education. + +Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, +a habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere petition +had been put up every morning on their mother’s bed, and begun and ended +by a kiss. Then the two brothers went through their morning toilet as +scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had been trained in +habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary to health of +body and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense of wellbeing. +Conscientiously they went through their duties, so afraid were they +lest their mother should say when she kissed them at breakfast-time, +“My darling children, where can you have been to have such black +finger-nails already?” Then the two went out into the garden and shook +off the dreams of the night in the morning air and dew, until sweeping +and dusting operations were completed, and they could learn their +lessons in the sitting-room until their mother joined them. But although +it was understood that they must not go to their mother’s room before a +certain hour, they peeped in at the door continually; and these morning +inroads, made in defiance of the original compact, were delicious +moments for all three. Marie sprang upon the bed to put his arms around +his idolized mother, and Louis, kneeling by the pillow, took her hand +in his. Then came inquiries, anxious as a lover’s, followed by angelic +laughter, passionate childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, +and the little ones’ stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories +seldom finished, though the listener’s interest never failed. + +“Have you been industrious?” their mother would ask, but in tones +so sweet and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a +misfortune, and to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied +with himself. + +She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the children’s +work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and that all her +thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful instinct, neither +selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent beginnings of +sentiment teaches children to know whether or not they are the first and +sole thought, to find out those who love to think of them and for them. +If you really love children, the dear little ones, with open hearts and +unerring sense of justice, are marvelously ready to respond to love. +Their love knows passion and jealousy and the most gracious delicacy +of feeling; they find the tenderest words of expression; they trust +you--put an entire belief in you. Perhaps there are no undutiful +children without undutiful mothers, for a child’s affection is always +in proportion to the affection that it receives--in early care, in the +first words that it hears, in the response of the eyes to which a child +first looks for love and life. All these things draw them closer to the +mother or drive them apart. God lays the child under the mother’s heart, +that she may learn that for a long time to come her heart must be +its home. And yet--there are mothers cruelly slighted, mothers whose +sublime, pathetic tenderness meets only a harsh return, a hideous +ingratitude which shows how difficult it is to lay down hard-and-fast +rules in matters of feeling. + +Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and mother +had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived one life, +a life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in the morning, +Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in her, even +those thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, with a +precocious power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his mother’s +assertion that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face with uneasy +forebodings; the exact danger he did not know, but dimly he felt it +threatening in those purple rings about her eyes, in the deepening +hollows under them, and the feverish red that deepened in her face. If +Marie’s play began to tire her, his sensitive tact was quick to discover +this, and he would call to his brother: + +“Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!” + +But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the +expression on his mother’s face. She still could find a smile for him, +nay, often there were tears in her eyes when some little thing revealed +her child’s exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of sorrow. + +Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children’s early breakfast and game +of play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be pleasing +in their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things lovely, a +gracious vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of which one can +never have enough. + +She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted from +ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three taking the +meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children played for +an hour, while she--poor woman and happy mother--lay on a long sofa +in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over the soft, +ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to see afresh +in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and sky and the +time of year. + +The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the +terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; +investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all +questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and the +summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country, everything +amuses them. + +Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She +never spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed +attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the words +to gain a general idea of Louis’ progress. If Louis asked a question +that puzzled his master, his mother’s eyes suddenly lighted up, and she +would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of Marie she asked +little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already she treated him, +as it were, respectfully, using all a woman’s, all a mother’s tact to +arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to teach him to think of +himself as capable of great things. She did this with a secret purpose, +which Louis was to understand in the future; nay, he understood it +already. + +Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, +and asked strict account of Louis’ progress. So kindly and so winning +was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where +Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came +dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned +till bedtime. + +So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and amusements +left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and quarreling +were impossible. The mother’s boundless love made everything smooth. +She taught her little sons moderation by refusing them nothing, and +submission by making them see underlying Necessity in its many forms; +she put heart into them with timely praise; developing and strengthening +all that was best in their natures with the care of a good fairy. Tears +sometimes rose to her burning eyes as she watched them play, and thought +how they had never caused her the slightest vexation. Happiness +so far-reaching and complete brings such tears, because for us it +represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which we all of us form in our +minds. + +Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, +in looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the +picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children’s voices +as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that told +most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis’ paternal care of Marie, +of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English +and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their +babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing +the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting +no fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness, +concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books, +she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of +biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men, +for little incidents in their history gave her numberless opportunities +of explaining the world and life to her children. She would point +out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had risen from +obscurity; how they had started from the lowest ranks of society, with +no one to look to but themselves, and achieved noble destinies. + +These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis’ lessons, +took place while little Marie slept on his mother’s knee in the quiet of +the summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they ended, +this adorable woman’s sadness always seemed to be doubled; she would +cease to speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes would fill +with tears. + +“Mother, why are you crying?” Louis asked one balmy June evening, just +as the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + +Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child’s neck and +drew him to her. + +“Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless lad +who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother’s, and +I have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will be +alone in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you are +still children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait till +you are big enough and know enough to be Marie’s guardian! But I shall +not live so long. I love you so much that it makes me very unhappy to +think of it. Dear children, if only you do not curse me some day!----” + +“But why should I curse you some day, mother?” + +“Some day,” she said, kissing him on the forehead, “you will find out +that I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, +without”--and she hesitated--“without a father,” she added, and at the +word she burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of +intuition told Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he carried +off Marie, now half awake. An hour later, when his brother was in bed, +he stole down and out to the summer-house where his mother was sitting. + +“Louis! come here.” + +The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang to +his mother’s arms, and the two held each other in an almost convulsive +embrace. + +“_Cherie_,” he said at last, the name by which he often called her, +finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, +“_cherie_, why are you afraid that you are going to die?” + +“I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there is +no cure for my illness; I know that.” + +“What is the matter with you?” + +“Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never +know.--You must not know what caused my death.” + +The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at +his mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the +clouds. It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his +mother would die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he could +not guess. He respected her long musings. If he had been rather older, +he would have read happy memories blended with thoughts of repentance, +the whole story of a woman’s life in that sublime face--the careless +childhood, the loveless marriage, a terrible passion, flowers springing +up in storm and struck down by the thunderbolt into an abyss from which +there is no return. + +“Darling mother,” Louis said at last, “why do you hide your pain from +me?” + +“My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers,” she said; “we +should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor +think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family life, +conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah me! +then think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, hiding +her sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure the ills of +life.” + +She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand +the mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and +consideration that it gives, and its bearing on social position; +the honorable means of gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a +training. Then she told him that one of the chief causes of her sadness +and her tears was the thought that, on the morrow of her death, he and +Marie would be left almost resourceless, with but a slender stock of +money, and no friend but God. + +“How quick I must be about learning!” cried Louis, giving her a piteous, +searching look. + +“Oh! how happy I am!” she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. +“He understands me!--Louis,” she went on, “you will be your brother’s +guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a child!” + +“Yes, I promise,” he said; “but you are not going to die yet--say that +you are not going to die!” + +“Poor little ones!” she replied, “love for you keeps the life in me. And +this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps----” + +“You make me love Touraine more than ever,” said the child. + +From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, +spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his work, +grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than heretofore. When +he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up boisterous games, +there was less noise in the hollow pathways and gardens and terraced +walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives to their mother’s +melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and wan, there were +hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead grew deeper night +after night. + +August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, +and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and +gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow decline +in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an impassioned soul +and intense love of her children. Old Annette seemed to see that death +was very near. That mistress, beautiful still, was more careful of her +appearance than she had ever been; she was at pains to adorn her wasted +self, and wore paint on her cheeks; but often while she walked on the +upper terrace with the children, Annette’s wrinkled face would peer out +from between the savin trees by the pump. The old woman would forget her +work, and stand with wet linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back +her tears at the sight of Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting +woman she once had been. + +The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it +was a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the walk +to the bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis had +almost identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with his +suddenly developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and +exhaustion under the red color, and constantly found reasons for taking +some shorter walk. + +So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of +Tours, and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the “dike,” + saw a pale, thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet bright +face, gliding like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering +cannot be concealed. The vinedresser’s household had grown quiet also. +Sometimes the laborer and his wife and children were gathered about the +door of their cottage, while Annette was washing linen at the well-head, +and Mme. Willemsens and the children sat in the summer-house, and there +was not the faintest sound in those gardens gay with flowers. Unknown to +Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew pitiful at the sight of her, she was +so good, so thoughtful, so dignified with those with whom she came in +contact. + +And as for her.--When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and bright +in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and healthful +influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the ravages of +mysterious disease--she saw no one but her children, taking the utmost +that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been her last. + +Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense +progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far +as equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive +geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass the +entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + +Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was +a lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly +face, medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy’s imagination, +and the officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes +sparkled with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and eager +for information, used to follow in the lieutenant’s wake for the chance +of a chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend and +comrade in the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the rolls +like himself; and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning what +life was like in camp or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he plied +the veterans with questions; and when he had made up his mind to the +hardships of their rough callings, he asked his mother’s leave to take +country walks by way of amusement. Mme. Willemsens was beyond measure +glad that he should ask; the boy’s astonished masters had told her that +he was overworking himself. So Louis went for long walks. He tried to +inure himself to fatigue, climbed the tallest trees with incredible +quickness, learned to swim, watched through the night. He was not like +the same boy; he was a young man already, with a sunburned face, and a +something in his expression that told of deep purpose. + +When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The +sunshine, reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the +rocks, raised the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm +and soft as the atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the +faculty recommend the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit +under the shade of green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered +from her now. Lessons had come to an end. Mother and children wished to +live the life of heart and heart together, with no disturbing element, +no outside cares. No tears now, no joyous outcries. The elder boy, lying +in the grass at his mother’s side, basked in her eyes like a lover and +kissed her feet. Marie, the restless one, gathered flowers for her, and +brought them with a subdued look, standing on tiptoe to put a girlish +kiss on her lips. And the pale woman, with the great tired eyes and +languid movements, never uttered a word of complaint, and smiled upon +her children, so full of life and health--it was a sublime picture, +lacking no melancholy autumn pomp of yellow leaves and half-despoiled +branches, nor the softened sunlight and pale clouds of the skies of +Touraine. + +At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every day +it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children were +always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano for +the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the instrument; +and at the window she could see her children standing with their heads +close together. Again and again she looked from the children to the +landscape, and then again at the children. Her face flushed, her fingers +flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. This was her last +great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her own soul by the +spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he ordered her to stay in +bed. The alarming dictum was received with bewildered silence. + +When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + +“Louis,” she said, “take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my +country once more.” + +The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his +mother out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps unconsciously, +to heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it would have been hard +to say whether heaven or earth was the fairer--for the clouds traced +shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine glaciers, against the sky. +Mme. Willemsens’ brows contracted vehemently; there was a look of +anguish and remorse in her eyes. She caught the children’s hands, and +clutched them to a heavily-throbbing heart. + +“‘Parentage unknown!’” she cried, with a look that went to their hearts. +“Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty years +old, what strict account may you not require of my life and your own?” + +She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the balustrade, +stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, fearful of all +eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw Louis and Marie +kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they watched the +expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + +“If only I could take that smile with me!” she said, drying her eyes. + +Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only +leave for her coffin. + +A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis took +it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their eyes +from the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in all +our lives, the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath lest it +should be the last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On the fifth +day of that fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the room. The +illusions of life were going one by one. + +Then Marie and his brother felt their mother’s lips hot as fire beneath +their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. Willemsens was +too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was left in disorder. +This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung so persistently to +the graces of life, meant the beginning of the death-agony. After this, +Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday night, in the midst of the +deepest silence, when Louis thought that she had grown drowsy, he saw a +white, moist hand move the curtain in the lamplight. + +“My son!” she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman’s +tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent reaction +on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow of his +bones. + +“What is it, mother?” + +“Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no +more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make +some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take +the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will +find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, +and on the other MARIE.” + +“Here they are, mother.” + +“Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. Give +them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them when +you need them. Now,” she continued, “is there not another paper as well, +something in my handwriting?” + +“Yes, mother,” and Louis began to read, “_Marie Willemsens, born +at_----” + +“That is enough,” she broke in quickly, “do not go on. When I am +dead, give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the +registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death +is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter +which I will dictate to you.” + +When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for the +words, they came from her quietly:-- + +“Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near +Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you.” + +“Sign yourself----” she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + +“Are you feeling worse?” asked Louis. + +“Put ‘Louis-Gaston,’” she went on. + +She sighed, then she went on. + +“Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde +Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the +letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now,” she added, after a +pause, “take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear +child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it,” she said, when Louis +had returned to her side. “That is all your own. Oh me! you would have +been better off if your father----” + +“My father,” cried the boy, “where is he?” + +“He is dead,” she said, laying her finger on her lips; “he died to save +my honor and my life.” + +She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have +wept for pain. + +“Louis,” she continued, “swear to me, as I lie here, that you will +forget all that you have written, all that I have told you.” + +“Yes, mother.” + +“Kiss me, dear angel.” + +She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from +God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her. + +“Listen,” she began. “Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have +in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead +the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours +then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go +out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette’s future +secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay +at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?” + +She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her +bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale +with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + +“I have thought it over, mother,” he answered in a deep voice. “I will +take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs +to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after +Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest, +and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to +be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace, +my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall +go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his +bent.” + +A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman’s eyes. Two tears brimmed over, +and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped between her +lips. The sudden joy of finding the father’s spirit in the son, who had +grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + +“Angel of heaven,” she cried, weeping, “by one word you have effaced all +my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.--This is my son,” she said, “I bore, I +reared this man,” and she raised her hands above her, and clasped them +as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + +“Mother, your face is growing pale!” cried the lad. + +“Some one must go for a priest,” she answered, with a dying voice. + +Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the +parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + +When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the most +touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, with +Annette and the vinedresser’s family, simple folk, who had already +become part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by a +chorister, a peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the +dying mother received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! +sublime word, containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only +possessed by the apostolic religion of the Roman church. + +“This woman has suffered greatly!” the old cure said in his simple way. + +Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed upon +her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing in the +deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals a deep +sigh told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within her; then +at last it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. He, poor +child, was still too young to know what death meant. + +Annette and the vinedresser’s wife closed the eyes of the adorable +woman, whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then the +women took possession of the chamber of death, removed the furniture, +wrapped the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon the couch. They +lit tapers about her, and arranged everything--the crucifix, the sprigs +of box, and the holy-water stoup--after the custom of the countryside, +bolting the shutters and drawing the curtains. Later the curate came to +pass the night in prayer with Louis, who refused to leave his mother. On +Tuesday morning an old woman and two children and a vinedresser’s wife +followed the dead to her grave. These were the only mourners. Yet +this was a woman whose wit and beauty and charm had won a European +reputation, a woman whose funeral, if it had taken place in London, +would have been recorded in pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a sort of +aristocratic rite, if she had not committed the sweetest of crimes, a +crime always expiated in this world, so that the pardoned spirit may +enter heaven. Marie cried when they threw the earth on his mother’s +coffin; he understood that he should see her no more. + +A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this inscription, +due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:-- + + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + _Pray for her!_ + +When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a +last look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with +Annette, leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand over +everything duly to the proper authorities. + +At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen +door, and took him aside with, “Here is madame’s ring, Monsieur Louis.” + +The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so +deeply that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this +supreme piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman’s neck. Then +the three set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and so +to Tours, without turning their heads. + +“Mamma used to come there!” Marie said when they reached the bridge. + +Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de la +Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin’s house, meaning that +they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his plans, +gave Marie’s certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs into her +keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to school. + +Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. +Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn +parting words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would now +be left alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, and +put his arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear from his +eyes, and went, turning again and again till the very last to see his +brother standing there in the gateway of the school. + + + +A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, +left the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the corvette +Iris, he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it became +indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little while +he felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, lost and +alone in the world and in life. + +“There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all,” said an old +sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + +The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, and +resigned himself to a sailor’s life. He was a father. + + +ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + + Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + + Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + + Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 1428-0.txt or 1428-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1428/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Grenadiere + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Ellen Marriage + +Release Date: February 24, 2010 [EBook #1428] +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LA GRENADIERE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By Ellen Marriage + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + To D. W. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> LA GRENADIERE </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + LA GRENADIERE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you go + down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point the + river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, flows + between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly of white + stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest fruit in the + world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient toil of many + generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the face of the rock + reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot climates may be grown + out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + </p> + <p> + A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of + cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered + houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into the + Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + </p> + <p> + La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred paces + from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating back some two + or three hundred years, which you find in every picturesque spot in + Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient space for a flight of + steps descending gradually to the “dike”—the local name for the + embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep the Loire in its bed, + and serve as a causeway for the highroad from Paris to Nantes. At the top + of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow stony footpath between two + terraces, for here the soil is banked up, and walls are built to prevent + landslips. These earthworks, as it were, are crowned with trellises and + espaliers, so that the steep path that lies at the foot of the upper wall + is almost hidden by the trees that grow on the top of the lower, upon + which it lies. The view of the river widens out before you at every step + as you climb to the house. + </p> + <p> + At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered with + simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with wildflowers—moss + and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall on the hillside is + decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which springs up along the + cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of year. + </p> + <p> + The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few + trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes—a garden won from + the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade + along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands against + the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and + honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + </p> + <p> + The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a + vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that leads to + vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling trellised + vines and pomegranate-trees (the <i>grenadiers</i>, which give the name to + the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front of the house + consists of two large windows on either side of a very rustic-looking + house door, and three dormer windows in the roof—a slate roof with + two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to the low + ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; and door, and + first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the attic windows, all + are painted green. + </p> + <p> + Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked + staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, the + spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take a new + angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining-room, floored + with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on your right; to the + left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here the walls are not + paneled; they have been covered instead with a saffron-colored paper, + bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters are left visible, and the + intervening spaces filled with a kind of white plaster. + </p> + <p> + The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone + chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms beneath. + Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save a single + door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give access to the + vineyard. Against the western wall stands a supplementary timber-framed + structure, all the woodwork exposed to the weather being fledged with + slates, so that the walls are checkered with bluish lines. This shed (for + it is little more) is the kitchen of the establishment. You can pass from + it into the house without going outside; but, nevertheless, it boasts an + entrance door of its own, and a short flight of steps that brings you to a + deep well, and a very rustical-looking pump, half hidden by water-plants + and savin bushes and tall grasses. The kitchen is a modern addition, + proving beyond doubt that La Grenadiere was originally nothing but a + simple <i>vendangeoir</i>—a vintage-house belonging to townsfolk in + Tours, from which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast river-bed of the + Loire. The owners only came over for the day for a picnic, or at the + vintage-time, sending provisions across in the morning, and scarcely ever + spent the night there except during the grape harvest; but the English + settled down on Touraine like a cloud of locusts, and La Grenadiere must, + of course, be completed if it was to find tenants. Luckily, however, this + recent appendage is hidden from sight by the first two trees of a + lime-tree avenue planted in a gully below the vineyards. + </p> + <p> + There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the + back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to scramble up + among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing shoots, ends + within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like passage always + damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, fed by the drainage + of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy weather washes down the + manure into the garden on the terrace. + </p> + <p> + A vinedresser’s cottage also leans against the western gable, and is in + some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers surround + the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among the vines; in + short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If by chance man + overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a fig-tree, or sows + wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among the stones. + </p> + <p> + Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble and + yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and wide views of + country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of Touraine—all + its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty of the land are + fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, figs and peaches and + pears of every kind; melons are grown out of doors as easily as licorice + plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, and jessamines from the Azores. + The Loire lies at your feet. You look down from the terrace upon the + ever-changing river nearly two hundred feet below; and in the evening the + breeze brings a fresh scent of the sea, with the fragrance of far-off + flowers gathered upon its way. Some cloud wandering in space, changing its + color and form at every moment as it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can + alter every detail in the widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand + ways, from every point of view. The eye embraces first of all the south + bank of the Loire, stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its + suburbs and buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; + further away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of + crescent of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your + view are the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon + broken by many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to the + west you lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come and go, + spreading their white sails to the winds which seldom fail them in the + wide Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at La Grenadiere, + but certainly it will always be the home of a poet’s desire, and the + sweetest of retreats for two young lovers—for this vintage house, + which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has charms for every + imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as for the most + impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without feeling that + happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is meant by a + peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in the air and the + sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands have a language, and + are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the owner of the vineyard may sit + motionless amid perennial flowers and tempting fruit, and feel all the + stir of the world about him. + </p> + <p> + If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a thousand + francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not included. If the + tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is doubled; for the vintage, + it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere be worth, you wonder; La + Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its beaten path and triple terrace, + its two acres of vineyard, its flowering roses about the balustrades, its + worn steps, well-head, rampant clematis, and cosmopolitan trees? It is + idle to make a bid! La Grenadiere will never be in the market; it was + brought once and sold, but that was in 1690; and the owner parted with it + for forty thousand francs, reluctant as any Arab of the desert to + relinquish a favorite horse. Since then it has remained in the same + family, its pride, its patrimonial jewel, its Regent diamond. “While you + behold, you have and hold,” says the bard. And from La Grenadiere you + behold three valleys of Touraine and the cathedral towers aloft in air + like a bit of filigree work. How can one pay for such treasures? Could one + ever pay for the health recovered there under the linden-trees? + </p> + <p> + In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady + with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen years + old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look for a + house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance from the + town was an inducement to live there. + </p> + <p> + She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two rooms + above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. The + dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the little + family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; there was + nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The walnut-wood + furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, and the whole + charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony with its + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady (Mme. + Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle or higher + classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. Her plain + dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but her manners + might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had not lived at + Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve excited the + curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in the country, watch + anybody or anything that promises to bring some interest into their narrow + lives. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but delicately + shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace of her instep + and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of slenderness; her gloved + hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting patches of deep red in a + pale face, which must have been fresh and softly colored once. Premature + wrinkles had withered the delicately modeled forehead beneath the coronet + of soft, well-set chestnut hair, invariably wound about her head in two + plaits, a girlish coiffure which suited the melancholy face. There was a + deceptive look of calm in the dark eyes, with the hollow, shadowy circles + about them; sometimes, when she was off her guard, their expression told + of secret anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat long; but happiness + and health had perhaps filled and perfected the outlines. A forced smile, + full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on her pale lips; but when the + children, who were always with her, looked up at their mother, or asked + one of the incessant idle questions which convey so much to a mother’s + ears, then the smile brightened, and expressed the joys of a mother’s + love. Her gait was slow and dignified. Her dress never varied; evidently + she had made up her mind to think no more of her toilette, and to forget a + world by which she meant no doubt to be forgotten. She wore a long, black + gown, confined at the waist by a watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf + a lawn handkerchief with a broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly + through her waistband. The instinct of dress showed itself in that she was + daintily shod, and gray silk stockings carried out the suggestion of + mourning in this unvarying costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after + the English fashion, always of the same shape and the same gray material, + and a black veil. Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked + very ill. On fine evenings she would take her only walk, down to the + bridge of Tours, bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, + cool air along the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a landscape + as wide as the Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + </p> + <p> + During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice into + Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him to give + her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and mathematics; and + a second time to make arrangements for the children’s lessons. But her + appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice a week, was quite + enough to excite the interest of almost all the inhabitants of Tours, who + make a regular promenade of the bridge. Still, in spite of a kind of spy + system, by which no harm is meant, a provincial habit bred of want of + occupation and the restless inquisitiveness of the principal society, + nothing was known for certain of the newcomer’s rank, fortune, or real + condition. Only, the owner of La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends + that the name under which the stranger had signed the lease (her real + name, therefore, in all probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of + Brandon. This, of course, must be her husband’s name. Events, which will + be narrated in their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no + further than the little world of men of business known to the landlord. + </p> + <p> + So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. Hers + was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully natural, + the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,—this was all that she + suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness, her + beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so much + to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more sincere + the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady inspired awe, + and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to speak to her. + Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their letters must have + been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens’ practice to throw all the + letters which she received into the fire, as if she meant that the time + spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any outside cares even of the + slightest. She might have come to the enchanting retreat to give herself + up wholly to the joy of living. + </p> + <p> + The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with + something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw + there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and + the children. + </p> + <p> + The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could not see + them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. Willemsens, + who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent complexion and + bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, the fresh outlines, + the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + </p> + <p> + The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything about + him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high brow, + with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He was quick and + alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a trace of + awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to think about + everything that he saw. + </p> + <p> + Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though a + lock here and there had deepened to the mother’s chestnut tint. + Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle + grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There was a + gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was something + feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, wavy curls, and + his mother would not have him give up embroidered collars, and little + jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped buttons; evidently she took + a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the costume, a source of as much + interest to the mother as to the child. The elder boy’s plain white + collar, turned down over a closely fitting jacket, made a contrast with + his brother’s clothing, but the color and material were the same; the two + brothers were otherwise dressed alike, and looked alike. + </p> + <p> + No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which Louis + took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the older boy’s + eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of gratitude to + Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from the stem that bore + them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same ray of sunlight; but + the one was a brightly colored flower, the other somewhat bleached and + pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in their mother’s voice, they + grew heedful, turned to look at her and listened, and did at once what + they were bidden, or asked, or recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens had so + accustomed them to understand her wishes and desires, that the three + seemed to have their thoughts in common. When they went for a walk, and + the children, absorbed in their play, ran away to gather a flower or to + look at some insect, she watched them with such deep tenderness in her + eyes, that the most indifferent passer-by would feel moved, and stop and + smile at the children, and give the mother a glance of friendly greeting. + Who would not have admired the dainty neatness of their dress, their + sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, the promise in their + faces, the innate something that told of careful training from the cradle? + They seemed as if they had never shed tears nor wailed like other + children. Their mother knew, as it were, by electrically swift intuition, + the desires and the pains which she anticipated and relieved. She seemed + to dread a complaint from one of them more than the loss of her soul. + Everything in her children did honor to their mother’s training. Their + threefold life, seemingly one life, called up vague, fond thoughts; it was + like a vision of the dreamed-of bliss of a better world. And the three, so + attuned to each other, lived in truth such a life as one might picture for + them at first sight—the ordered, simple, and regular life best + suited for a child’s education. + </p> + <p> + Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, a + habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere petition had + been put up every morning on their mother’s bed, and begun and ended by a + kiss. Then the two brothers went through their morning toilet as + scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had been trained in + habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary to health of body + and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense of wellbeing. + Conscientiously they went through their duties, so afraid were they lest + their mother should say when she kissed them at breakfast-time, “My + darling children, where can you have been to have such black finger-nails + already?” Then the two went out into the garden and shook off the dreams + of the night in the morning air and dew, until sweeping and dusting + operations were completed, and they could learn their lessons in the + sitting-room until their mother joined them. But although it was + understood that they must not go to their mother’s room before a certain + hour, they peeped in at the door continually; and these morning inroads, + made in defiance of the original compact, were delicious moments for all + three. Marie sprang upon the bed to put his arms around his idolized + mother, and Louis, kneeling by the pillow, took her hand in his. Then came + inquiries, anxious as a lover’s, followed by angelic laughter, passionate + childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, and the little ones’ + stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories seldom finished, though + the listener’s interest never failed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been industrious?” their mother would ask, but in tones so sweet + and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a misfortune, and + to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied with himself. + </p> + <p> + She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the children’s + work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and that all her + thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful instinct, neither + selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent beginnings of sentiment + teaches children to know whether or not they are the first and sole + thought, to find out those who love to think of them and for them. If you + really love children, the dear little ones, with open hearts and unerring + sense of justice, are marvelously ready to respond to love. Their love + knows passion and jealousy and the most gracious delicacy of feeling; they + find the tenderest words of expression; they trust you—put an entire + belief in you. Perhaps there are no undutiful children without undutiful + mothers, for a child’s affection is always in proportion to the affection + that it receives—in early care, in the first words that it hears, in + the response of the eyes to which a child first looks for love and life. + All these things draw them closer to the mother or drive them apart. God + lays the child under the mother’s heart, that she may learn that for a + long time to come her heart must be its home. And yet—there are + mothers cruelly slighted, mothers whose sublime, pathetic tenderness meets + only a harsh return, a hideous ingratitude which shows how difficult it is + to lay down hard-and-fast rules in matters of feeling. + </p> + <p> + Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and mother + had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived one life, a + life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in the morning, + Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in her, even those + thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, with a precocious + power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his mother’s assertion + that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face with uneasy forebodings; + the exact danger he did not know, but dimly he felt it threatening in + those purple rings about her eyes, in the deepening hollows under them, + and the feverish red that deepened in her face. If Marie’s play began to + tire her, his sensitive tact was quick to discover this, and he would call + to his brother: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!” + </p> + <p> + But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the expression + on his mother’s face. She still could find a smile for him, nay, often + there were tears in her eyes when some little thing revealed her child’s + exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children’s early breakfast and game of + play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be pleasing in + their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things lovely, a gracious + vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of which one can never have + enough. + </p> + <p> + She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted from + ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three taking the + meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children played for an + hour, while she—poor woman and happy mother—lay on a long sofa + in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over the soft, + ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to see afresh in + all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and sky and the time + of year. + </p> + <p> + The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the terraces, + chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; investigating flowers + and seeds and insects, continually referring all questions to their + mother, running to and fro between the garden and the summer-house. + Children have no need of toys in the country, everything amuses them. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She never + spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed attentively + all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the words to gain a + general idea of Louis’ progress. If Louis asked a question that puzzled + his master, his mother’s eyes suddenly lighted up, and she would smile and + glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of Marie she asked little. Her desire + was with her eldest son. Already she treated him, as it were, + respectfully, using all a woman’s, all a mother’s tact to arouse the + spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to teach him to think of himself as + capable of great things. She did this with a secret purpose, which Louis + was to understand in the future; nay, he understood it already. + </p> + <p> + Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, and + asked strict account of Louis’ progress. So kindly and so winning was her + manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where Louis was + weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came dinner, and + play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned till bedtime. + </p> + <p> + So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and amusements + left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and quarreling were + impossible. The mother’s boundless love made everything smooth. She taught + her little sons moderation by refusing them nothing, and submission by + making them see underlying Necessity in its many forms; she put heart into + them with timely praise; developing and strengthening all that was best in + their natures with the care of a good fairy. Tears sometimes rose to her + burning eyes as she watched them play, and thought how they had never + caused her the slightest vexation. Happiness so far-reaching and complete + brings such tears, because for us it represents the dim imaginings of + Heaven which we all of us form in our minds. + </p> + <p> + Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, in + looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the + picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children’s voices as + they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that told most + plainly of their union of heart, of Louis’ paternal care of Marie, of the + love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English and French equally + well (they had had an English nurse since their babyhood), so their mother + talked to them in both languages; directing the bent of their childish + minds with admirable skill, admitting no fallacious reasoning, no bad + principle. She ruled by kindness, concealing nothing, explaining + everything. If Louis wished for books, she was careful to give him + interesting yet accurate books—books of biography, the lives of + great seamen, great captains, and famous men, for little incidents in + their history gave her numberless opportunities of explaining the world + and life to her children. She would point out the ways in which men, + really great in themselves, had risen from obscurity; how they had started + from the lowest ranks of society, with no one to look to but themselves, + and achieved noble destinies. + </p> + <p> + These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis’ lessons, took + place while little Marie slept on his mother’s knee in the quiet of the + summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they ended, this + adorable woman’s sadness always seemed to be doubled; she would cease to + speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes would fill with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, why are you crying?” Louis asked one balmy June evening, just as + the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + </p> + <p> + Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child’s neck and + drew him to her. + </p> + <p> + “Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless lad + who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother’s, and I + have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will be alone + in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you are still + children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait till you are + big enough and know enough to be Marie’s guardian! But I shall not live so + long. I love you so much that it makes me very unhappy to think of it. + Dear children, if only you do not curse me some day!——” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I curse you some day, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” she said, kissing him on the forehead, “you will find out that + I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, without”—and + she hesitated—“without a father,” she added, and at the word she + burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of intuition told + Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he carried off Marie, now + half awake. An hour later, when his brother was in bed, he stole down and + out to the summer-house where his mother was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Louis! come here.” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang to + his mother’s arms, and the two held each other in an almost convulsive + embrace. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Cherie</i>,” he said at last, the name by which he often called her, + finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, “<i>cherie</i>, + why are you afraid that you are going to die?” + </p> + <p> + “I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there is + no cure for my illness; I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never know.—You + must not know what caused my death.” + </p> + <p> + The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at his + mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the clouds. + It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his mother would + die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he could not guess. He + respected her long musings. If he had been rather older, he would have + read happy memories blended with thoughts of repentance, the whole story + of a woman’s life in that sublime face—the careless childhood, the + loveless marriage, a terrible passion, flowers springing up in storm and + struck down by the thunderbolt into an abyss from which there is no + return. + </p> + <p> + “Darling mother,” Louis said at last, “why do you hide your pain from me?” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers,” she said; “we + should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor + think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family life, + conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah me! then + think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, hiding her + sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure the ills of + life.” + </p> + <p> + She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand the + mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and consideration + that it gives, and its bearing on social position; the honorable means of + gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a training. Then she told him + that one of the chief causes of her sadness and her tears was the thought + that, on the morrow of her death, he and Marie would be left almost + resourceless, with but a slender stock of money, and no friend but God. + </p> + <p> + “How quick I must be about learning!” cried Louis, giving her a piteous, + searching look. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how happy I am!” she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. “He + understands me!—Louis,” she went on, “you will be your brother’s + guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a child!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I promise,” he said; “but you are not going to die yet—say + that you are not going to die!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little ones!” she replied, “love for you keeps the life in me. And + this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “You make me love Touraine more than ever,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, + spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his work, + grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than heretofore. When he + had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up boisterous games, there was + less noise in the hollow pathways and gardens and terraced walks of La + Grenadiere. They adapted their lives to their mother’s melancholy. Day by + day her face was growing pale and wan, there were hollows now in her + temples, the lines in her forehead grew deeper night after night. + </p> + <p> + August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, and + their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and gloomy as + she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow decline in the + mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an impassioned soul and intense + love of her children. Old Annette seemed to see that death was very near. + That mistress, beautiful still, was more careful of her appearance than + she had ever been; she was at pains to adorn her wasted self, and wore + paint on her cheeks; but often while she walked on the upper terrace with + the children, Annette’s wrinkled face would peer out from between the + savin trees by the pump. The old woman would forget her work, and stand + with wet linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back her tears at the + sight of Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting woman she once had + been. + </p> + <p> + The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it was + a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the walk to the + bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis had almost + identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with his suddenly + developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and exhaustion under + the red color, and constantly found reasons for taking some shorter walk. + </p> + <p> + So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of Tours, + and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the “dike,” saw a pale, + thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet bright face, gliding + like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering cannot be concealed. The + vinedresser’s household had grown quiet also. Sometimes the laborer and + his wife and children were gathered about the door of their cottage, while + Annette was washing linen at the well-head, and Mme. Willemsens and the + children sat in the summer-house, and there was not the faintest sound in + those gardens gay with flowers. Unknown to Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew + pitiful at the sight of her, she was so good, so thoughtful, so dignified + with those with whom she came in contact. + </p> + <p> + And as for her.—When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and + bright in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and + healthful influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the + ravages of mysterious disease—she saw no one but her children, + taking the utmost that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been + her last. + </p> + <p> + Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense + progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far as + equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive + geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass the + entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was a + lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly face, + medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy’s imagination, and the + officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes sparkled + with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and eager for + information, used to follow in the lieutenant’s wake for the chance of a + chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend and comrade in + the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the rolls like himself; + and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning what life was like in camp + or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he plied the veterans with questions; + and when he had made up his mind to the hardships of their rough callings, + he asked his mother’s leave to take country walks by way of amusement. + Mme. Willemsens was beyond measure glad that he should ask; the boy’s + astonished masters had told her that he was overworking himself. So Louis + went for long walks. He tried to inure himself to fatigue, climbed the + tallest trees with incredible quickness, learned to swim, watched through + the night. He was not like the same boy; he was a young man already, with + a sunburned face, and a something in his expression that told of deep + purpose. + </p> + <p> + When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The sunshine, + reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the rocks, raised + the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm and soft as the + atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the faculty recommend + the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit under the shade of + green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered from her now. Lessons + had come to an end. Mother and children wished to live the life of heart + and heart together, with no disturbing element, no outside cares. No tears + now, no joyous outcries. The elder boy, lying in the grass at his mother’s + side, basked in her eyes like a lover and kissed her feet. Marie, the + restless one, gathered flowers for her, and brought them with a subdued + look, standing on tiptoe to put a girlish kiss on her lips. And the pale + woman, with the great tired eyes and languid movements, never uttered a + word of complaint, and smiled upon her children, so full of life and + health—it was a sublime picture, lacking no melancholy autumn pomp + of yellow leaves and half-despoiled branches, nor the softened sunlight + and pale clouds of the skies of Touraine. + </p> + <p> + At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every day it + was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children were always + with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano for the last + time. A picture—a Swiss landscape—hung above the instrument; + and at the window she could see her children standing with their heads + close together. Again and again she looked from the children to the + landscape, and then again at the children. Her face flushed, her fingers + flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. This was her last great + day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her own soul by the spirit of + her memories. When the doctor came, he ordered her to stay in bed. The + alarming dictum was received with bewildered silence. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” she said, “take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my + country once more.” + </p> + <p> + The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his mother + out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps unconsciously, to + heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it would have been hard to + say whether heaven or earth was the fairer—for the clouds traced + shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine glaciers, against the sky. Mme. + Willemsens’ brows contracted vehemently; there was a look of anguish and + remorse in her eyes. She caught the children’s hands, and clutched them to + a heavily-throbbing heart. + </p> + <p> + “‘Parentage unknown!’” she cried, with a look that went to their hearts. + “Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty years old, + what strict account may you not require of my life and your own?” + </p> + <p> + She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the balustrade, + stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, fearful of all + eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw Louis and Marie + kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they watched the + expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + </p> + <p> + “If only I could take that smile with me!” she said, drying her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only + leave for her coffin. + </p> + <p> + A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis took + it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their eyes from + the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in all our lives, + the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath lest it should be the + last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On the fifth day of that + fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the room. The illusions of + life were going one by one. + </p> + <p> + Then Marie and his brother felt their mother’s lips hot as fire beneath + their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. Willemsens was + too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was left in disorder. + This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung so persistently to + the graces of life, meant the beginning of the death-agony. After this, + Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday night, in the midst of the + deepest silence, when Louis thought that she had grown drowsy, he saw a + white, moist hand move the curtain in the lamplight. + </p> + <p> + “My son!” she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman’s + tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent reaction + on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow of his bones. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no + more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make some + arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take the key + of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will find two + sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, and on the + other MARIE.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. Give + them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them when you + need them. Now,” she continued, “is there not another paper as well, + something in my handwriting?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” and Louis began to read, “<i>Marie Willemsens, born at</i>——” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough,” she broke in quickly, “do not go on. When I am dead, + give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the registrar + at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death is to be made + out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter which I will + dictate to you.” + </p> + <p> + When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for the + words, they came from her quietly:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near + Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign yourself——” she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you feeling worse?” asked Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Put ‘Louis-Gaston,’” she went on. + </p> + <p> + She sighed, then she went on. + </p> + <p> + “Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde + Park, London, Angleterre.—That is right. When I am dead, post the + letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.—Now,” she added, after a + pause, “take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear + child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it,” she said, when Louis + had returned to her side. “That is all your own. Oh me! you would have + been better off if your father——” + </p> + <p> + “My father,” cried the boy, “where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” she said, laying her finger on her lips; “he died to save my + honor and my life.” + </p> + <p> + She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have wept + for pain. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” she continued, “swear to me, as I lie here, that you will forget + all that you have written, all that I have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, dear angel.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from + God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she began. “Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have + in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead the + lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours then, not + even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go out, poor + orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette’s future secure. She + will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay at Tours no + doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?” + </p> + <p> + She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her + bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale + with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought it over, mother,” he answered in a deep voice. “I will + take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs to + our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after + Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest, + and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to + be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace, my + mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall go to + the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his bent.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman’s eyes. Two tears brimmed over, + and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped between her + lips. The sudden joy of finding the father’s spirit in the son, who had + grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + </p> + <p> + “Angel of heaven,” she cried, weeping, “by one word you have effaced all + my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.—This is my son,” she said, “I bore, + I reared this man,” and she raised her hands above her, and clasped them + as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, your face is growing pale!” cried the lad. + </p> + <p> + “Some one must go for a priest,” she answered, with a dying voice. + </p> + <p> + Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the + parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + </p> + <p> + When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the most + touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, with + Annette and the vinedresser’s family, simple folk, who had already become + part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by a chorister, a + peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the dying mother + received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! sublime word, + containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only possessed by the + apostolic religion of the Roman church. + </p> + <p> + “This woman has suffered greatly!” the old cure said in his simple way. + </p> + <p> + Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed upon + her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing in the + deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals a deep sigh + told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within her; then at last + it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. He, poor child, was + still too young to know what death meant. + </p> + <p> + Annette and the vinedresser’s wife closed the eyes of the adorable woman, + whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then the women + took possession of the chamber of death, removed the furniture, wrapped + the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon the couch. They lit + tapers about her, and arranged everything—the crucifix, the sprigs + of box, and the holy-water stoup—after the custom of the + countryside, bolting the shutters and drawing the curtains. Later the + curate came to pass the night in prayer with Louis, who refused to leave + his mother. On Tuesday morning an old woman and two children and a + vinedresser’s wife followed the dead to her grave. These were the only + mourners. Yet this was a woman whose wit and beauty and charm had won a + European reputation, a woman whose funeral, if it had taken place in + London, would have been recorded in pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a + sort of aristocratic rite, if she had not committed the sweetest of + crimes, a crime always expiated in this world, so that the pardoned spirit + may enter heaven. Marie cried when they threw the earth on his mother’s + coffin; he understood that he should see her no more. + </p> + <p> + A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this inscription, + due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + <i>Pray for her!</i> +</pre> + <p> + When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a last + look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with Annette, + leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand over everything + duly to the proper authorities. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen + door, and took him aside with, “Here is madame’s ring, Monsieur Louis.” + </p> + <p> + The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so deeply + that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this supreme + piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman’s neck. Then the three + set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and so to Tours, + without turning their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma used to come there!” Marie said when they reached the bridge. + </p> + <p> + Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de la + Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin’s house, meaning that + they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his plans, + gave Marie’s certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs into her + keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to school. + </p> + <p> + Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. + Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn parting + words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would now be left + alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, and put his + arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear from his eyes, and + went, turning again and again till the very last to see his brother + standing there in the gateway of the school. + </p> + <p> + A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, left + the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the corvette Iris, + he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it became + indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little while he + felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, lost and alone + in the world and in life. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all,” said an old + sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + </p> + <p> + The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, and + resigned himself to a sailor’s life. He was a father. + </p> + <p> + ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + + Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + + Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 1428-h.htm or 1428-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1428/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Grenadiere + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Ellen Marriage + +Release Date: August, 1998 [Etext #1428] +Posting Date: February 24, 2010 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +LA GRENADIERE + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated By Ellen Marriage + + + + To D. W. + + + + + +LA GRENADIERE + + +La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you go +down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point the +river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, flows +between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly of +white stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest fruit +in the world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient toil of +many generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the face of the +rock reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot climates may +be grown out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + + + +A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of +cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered +houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into the +Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + +La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred +paces from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating back +some two or three hundred years, which you find in every picturesque +spot in Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient space for a +flight of steps descending gradually to the "dike"--the local name for +the embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep the Loire in its +bed, and serve as a causeway for the highroad from Paris to Nantes. At +the top of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow stony footpath between +two terraces, for here the soil is banked up, and walls are built +to prevent landslips. These earthworks, as it were, are crowned with +trellises and espaliers, so that the steep path that lies at the foot of +the upper wall is almost hidden by the trees that grow on the top of the +lower, upon which it lies. The view of the river widens out before you +at every step as you climb to the house. + +At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered +with simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with +wildflowers--moss and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall +on the hillside is decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which +springs up along the cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of +year. + +The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few +trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes--a garden won from +the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade +along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands +against the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and +honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + +The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a +vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that +leads to vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling +trellised vines and pomegranate-trees (the _grenadiers_, which give the +name to the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front +of the house consists of two large windows on either side of a very +rustic-looking house door, and three dormer windows in the roof--a slate +roof with two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to the low +ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; and door, +and first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the attic +windows, all are painted green. + +Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked +staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, the +spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take a +new angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining-room, +floored with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on your right; +to the left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here the walls +are not paneled; they have been covered instead with a saffron-colored +paper, bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters are left visible, +and the intervening spaces filled with a kind of white plaster. + +The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone +chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms beneath. +Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save a single +door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give access to the +vineyard. Against the western wall stands a supplementary timber-framed +structure, all the woodwork exposed to the weather being fledged with +slates, so that the walls are checkered with bluish lines. This shed +(for it is little more) is the kitchen of the establishment. You can +pass from it into the house without going outside; but, nevertheless, +it boasts an entrance door of its own, and a short flight of steps that +brings you to a deep well, and a very rustical-looking pump, half hidden +by water-plants and savin bushes and tall grasses. The kitchen is a +modern addition, proving beyond doubt that La Grenadiere was originally +nothing but a simple _vendangeoir_--a vintage-house belonging to +townsfolk in Tours, from which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast +river-bed of the Loire. The owners only came over for the day for +a picnic, or at the vintage-time, sending provisions across in the +morning, and scarcely ever spent the night there except during the +grape harvest; but the English settled down on Touraine like a cloud of +locusts, and La Grenadiere must, of course, be completed if it was to +find tenants. Luckily, however, this recent appendage is hidden from +sight by the first two trees of a lime-tree avenue planted in a gully +below the vineyards. + +There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the +back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to scramble +up among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing shoots, ends +within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like passage always +damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, fed by the +drainage of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy weather washes +down the manure into the garden on the terrace. + +A vinedresser's cottage also leans against the western gable, and is +in some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers +surround the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among +the vines; in short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If +by chance man overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a +fig-tree, or sows wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among +the stones. + +Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble +and yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and +wide views of country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of +Touraine--all its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty +of the land are fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, +figs and peaches and pears of every kind; melons are grown out of doors +as easily as licorice plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, and +jessamines from the Azores. The Loire lies at your feet. You look down +from the terrace upon the ever-changing river nearly two hundred feet +below; and in the evening the breeze brings a fresh scent of the sea, +with the fragrance of far-off flowers gathered upon its way. Some cloud +wandering in space, changing its color and form at every moment as +it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can alter every detail in the +widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand ways, from every point +of view. The eye embraces first of all the south bank of the Loire, +stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its suburbs and +buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; further +away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of crescent +of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your view are +the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon broken by +many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to the west you +lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come and go, spreading +their white sails to the winds which seldom fail them in the wide +Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at La Grenadiere, +but certainly it will always be the home of a poet's desire, and the +sweetest of retreats for two young lovers--for this vintage house, +which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has charms for every +imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as for the most +impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without feeling that +happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is meant by a +peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in the air and the +sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands have a language, +and are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the owner of the vineyard +may sit motionless amid perennial flowers and tempting fruit, and feel +all the stir of the world about him. + +If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a thousand +francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not included. If +the tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is doubled; for the +vintage, it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere be worth, you +wonder; La Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its beaten path and +triple terrace, its two acres of vineyard, its flowering roses about +the balustrades, its worn steps, well-head, rampant clematis, and +cosmopolitan trees? It is idle to make a bid! La Grenadiere will never +be in the market; it was brought once and sold, but that was in 1690; +and the owner parted with it for forty thousand francs, reluctant as +any Arab of the desert to relinquish a favorite horse. Since then it +has remained in the same family, its pride, its patrimonial jewel, its +Regent diamond. "While you behold, you have and hold," says the bard. +And from La Grenadiere you behold three valleys of Touraine and the +cathedral towers aloft in air like a bit of filigree work. How can one +pay for such treasures? Could one ever pay for the health recovered +there under the linden-trees? + +In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady +with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen +years old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look +for a house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance +from the town was an inducement to live there. + +She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two rooms +above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. The +dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the little +family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; there was +nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The walnut-wood +furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, and the +whole charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony with its +surroundings. + +It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady +(Mme. Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle or +higher classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. Her +plain dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but her +manners might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had not +lived at Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve excited +the curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in the country, +watch anybody or anything that promises to bring some interest into +their narrow lives. + +Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but +delicately shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace +of her instep and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of slenderness; +her gloved hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting patches of deep +red in a pale face, which must have been fresh and softly colored once. +Premature wrinkles had withered the delicately modeled forehead beneath +the coronet of soft, well-set chestnut hair, invariably wound about her +head in two plaits, a girlish coiffure which suited the melancholy face. +There was a deceptive look of calm in the dark eyes, with the hollow, +shadowy circles about them; sometimes, when she was off her guard, their +expression told of secret anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat +long; but happiness and health had perhaps filled and perfected the +outlines. A forced smile, full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on +her pale lips; but when the children, who were always with her, looked +up at their mother, or asked one of the incessant idle questions which +convey so much to a mother's ears, then the smile brightened, and +expressed the joys of a mother's love. Her gait was slow and dignified. +Her dress never varied; evidently she had made up her mind to think no +more of her toilette, and to forget a world by which she meant no doubt +to be forgotten. She wore a long, black gown, confined at the waist by +a watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf a lawn handkerchief with a +broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly through her waistband. The +instinct of dress showed itself in that she was daintily shod, and gray +silk stockings carried out the suggestion of mourning in this unvarying +costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after the English fashion, +always of the same shape and the same gray material, and a black veil. +Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked very ill. On fine +evenings she would take her only walk, down to the bridge of Tours, +bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, cool air along +the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a landscape as wide as the +Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + +During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice +into Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him +to give her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and +mathematics; and a second time to make arrangements for the children's +lessons. But her appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice +a week, was quite enough to excite the interest of almost all the +inhabitants of Tours, who make a regular promenade of the bridge. +Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant, +a provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless +inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for certain +of the newcomer's rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the owner of +La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name under which +the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, therefore, in all +probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of Brandon. This, of +course, must be her husband's name. Events, which will be narrated in +their place, confirmed this revelation; but it went no further than the +little world of men of business known to the landlord. + +So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. +Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully +natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all that +she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her sadness, +her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, there was so +much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; but the more +sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, the lady +inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough courage to +speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to her, their +letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. Willemsens' practice +to throw all the letters which she received into the fire, as if she +meant that the time spent in Touraine should be untroubled by any +outside cares even of the slightest. She might have come to the +enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of living. + +The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke with +something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that they saw +there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by this woman and +the children. + +The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could +not see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. +Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent +complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, +the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + +The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything +about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, high +brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He was +quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a trace +of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to think about +everything that he saw. + +Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though +a lock here and there had deepened to the mother's chestnut tint. +Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle +grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There was +a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was something +feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, wavy curls, +and his mother would not have him give up embroidered collars, and +little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped buttons; evidently +she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the costume, a source of as +much interest to the mother as to the child. The elder boy's plain white +collar, turned down over a closely fitting jacket, made a contrast with +his brother's clothing, but the color and material were the same; the +two brothers were otherwise dressed alike, and looked alike. + +No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which Louis +took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the older boy's +eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of gratitude to +Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from the stem that +bore them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same ray of sunlight; +but the one was a brightly colored flower, the other somewhat bleached +and pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in their mother's voice, +they grew heedful, turned to look at her and listened, and did at once +what they were bidden, or asked, or recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens +had so accustomed them to understand her wishes and desires, that the +three seemed to have their thoughts in common. When they went for a +walk, and the children, absorbed in their play, ran away to gather +a flower or to look at some insect, she watched them with such deep +tenderness in her eyes, that the most indifferent passer-by would feel +moved, and stop and smile at the children, and give the mother a glance +of friendly greeting. Who would not have admired the dainty neatness of +their dress, their sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, +the promise in their faces, the innate something that told of careful +training from the cradle? They seemed as if they had never shed tears +nor wailed like other children. Their mother knew, as it were, by +electrically swift intuition, the desires and the pains which she +anticipated and relieved. She seemed to dread a complaint from one of +them more than the loss of her soul. Everything in her children did +honor to their mother's training. Their threefold life, seemingly +one life, called up vague, fond thoughts; it was like a vision of the +dreamed-of bliss of a better world. And the three, so attuned to each +other, lived in truth such a life as one might picture for them at first +sight--the ordered, simple, and regular life best suited for a child's +education. + +Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, +a habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere petition +had been put up every morning on their mother's bed, and begun and ended +by a kiss. Then the two brothers went through their morning toilet as +scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had been trained in +habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary to health of +body and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense of wellbeing. +Conscientiously they went through their duties, so afraid were they +lest their mother should say when she kissed them at breakfast-time, +"My darling children, where can you have been to have such black +finger-nails already?" Then the two went out into the garden and shook +off the dreams of the night in the morning air and dew, until sweeping +and dusting operations were completed, and they could learn their +lessons in the sitting-room until their mother joined them. But although +it was understood that they must not go to their mother's room before a +certain hour, they peeped in at the door continually; and these morning +inroads, made in defiance of the original compact, were delicious +moments for all three. Marie sprang upon the bed to put his arms around +his idolized mother, and Louis, kneeling by the pillow, took her hand +in his. Then came inquiries, anxious as a lover's, followed by angelic +laughter, passionate childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, +and the little ones' stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories +seldom finished, though the listener's interest never failed. + +"Have you been industrious?" their mother would ask, but in tones +so sweet and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a +misfortune, and to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied +with himself. + +She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the children's +work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and that all her +thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful instinct, neither +selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent beginnings of +sentiment teaches children to know whether or not they are the first and +sole thought, to find out those who love to think of them and for them. +If you really love children, the dear little ones, with open hearts and +unerring sense of justice, are marvelously ready to respond to love. +Their love knows passion and jealousy and the most gracious delicacy +of feeling; they find the tenderest words of expression; they trust +you--put an entire belief in you. Perhaps there are no undutiful +children without undutiful mothers, for a child's affection is always +in proportion to the affection that it receives--in early care, in the +first words that it hears, in the response of the eyes to which a child +first looks for love and life. All these things draw them closer to the +mother or drive them apart. God lays the child under the mother's heart, +that she may learn that for a long time to come her heart must be +its home. And yet--there are mothers cruelly slighted, mothers whose +sublime, pathetic tenderness meets only a harsh return, a hideous +ingratitude which shows how difficult it is to lay down hard-and-fast +rules in matters of feeling. + +Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and mother +had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived one life, +a life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in the morning, +Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in her, even +those thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, with a +precocious power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his mother's +assertion that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face with uneasy +forebodings; the exact danger he did not know, but dimly he felt it +threatening in those purple rings about her eyes, in the deepening +hollows under them, and the feverish red that deepened in her face. If +Marie's play began to tire her, his sensitive tact was quick to discover +this, and he would call to his brother: + +"Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!" + +But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the +expression on his mother's face. She still could find a smile for him, +nay, often there were tears in her eyes when some little thing revealed +her child's exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of sorrow. + +Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children's early breakfast and game +of play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be pleasing +in their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things lovely, a +gracious vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of which one can +never have enough. + +She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted from +ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three taking the +meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children played for +an hour, while she--poor woman and happy mother--lay on a long sofa +in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over the soft, +ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to see afresh +in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and sky and the +time of year. + +The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the +terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; +investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all +questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and the +summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country, everything +amuses them. + +Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She +never spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed +attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the words +to gain a general idea of Louis' progress. If Louis asked a question +that puzzled his master, his mother's eyes suddenly lighted up, and she +would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of Marie she asked +little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already she treated him, +as it were, respectfully, using all a woman's, all a mother's tact to +arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to teach him to think of +himself as capable of great things. She did this with a secret purpose, +which Louis was to understand in the future; nay, he understood it +already. + +Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, +and asked strict account of Louis' progress. So kindly and so winning +was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where +Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came +dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned +till bedtime. + +So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and amusements +left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and quarreling +were impossible. The mother's boundless love made everything smooth. +She taught her little sons moderation by refusing them nothing, and +submission by making them see underlying Necessity in its many forms; +she put heart into them with timely praise; developing and strengthening +all that was best in their natures with the care of a good fairy. Tears +sometimes rose to her burning eyes as she watched them play, and thought +how they had never caused her the slightest vexation. Happiness +so far-reaching and complete brings such tears, because for us it +represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which we all of us form in our +minds. + +Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, +in looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the +picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children's voices +as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that told +most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis' paternal care of Marie, +of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English +and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their +babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing +the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting +no fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness, +concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books, +she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of +biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men, +for little incidents in their history gave her numberless opportunities +of explaining the world and life to her children. She would point +out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had risen from +obscurity; how they had started from the lowest ranks of society, with +no one to look to but themselves, and achieved noble destinies. + +These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis' lessons, +took place while little Marie slept on his mother's knee in the quiet of +the summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they ended, +this adorable woman's sadness always seemed to be doubled; she would +cease to speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes would fill +with tears. + +"Mother, why are you crying?" Louis asked one balmy June evening, just +as the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + +Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child's neck and +drew him to her. + +"Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless lad +who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother's, and +I have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will be +alone in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you are +still children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait till +you are big enough and know enough to be Marie's guardian! But I shall +not live so long. I love you so much that it makes me very unhappy to +think of it. Dear children, if only you do not curse me some day!----" + +"But why should I curse you some day, mother?" + +"Some day," she said, kissing him on the forehead, "you will find out +that I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, +without"--and she hesitated--"without a father," she added, and at the +word she burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of +intuition told Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he carried +off Marie, now half awake. An hour later, when his brother was in bed, +he stole down and out to the summer-house where his mother was sitting. + +"Louis! come here." + +The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang to +his mother's arms, and the two held each other in an almost convulsive +embrace. + +"_Cherie_," he said at last, the name by which he often called her, +finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, +"_cherie_, why are you afraid that you are going to die?" + +"I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there is +no cure for my illness; I know that." + +"What is the matter with you?" + +"Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never +know.--You must not know what caused my death." + +The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at +his mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the +clouds. It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his +mother would die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he could +not guess. He respected her long musings. If he had been rather older, +he would have read happy memories blended with thoughts of repentance, +the whole story of a woman's life in that sublime face--the careless +childhood, the loveless marriage, a terrible passion, flowers springing +up in storm and struck down by the thunderbolt into an abyss from which +there is no return. + +"Darling mother," Louis said at last, "why do you hide your pain from +me?" + +"My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers," she said; "we +should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor +think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family life, +conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah me! +then think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, hiding +her sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure the ills of +life." + +She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand +the mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and +consideration that it gives, and its bearing on social position; +the honorable means of gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a +training. Then she told him that one of the chief causes of her sadness +and her tears was the thought that, on the morrow of her death, he and +Marie would be left almost resourceless, with but a slender stock of +money, and no friend but God. + +"How quick I must be about learning!" cried Louis, giving her a piteous, +searching look. + +"Oh! how happy I am!" she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. +"He understands me!--Louis," she went on, "you will be your brother's +guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a child!" + +"Yes, I promise," he said; "but you are not going to die yet--say that +you are not going to die!" + +"Poor little ones!" she replied, "love for you keeps the life in me. And +this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps----" + +"You make me love Touraine more than ever," said the child. + +From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, +spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his work, +grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than heretofore. When +he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up boisterous games, +there was less noise in the hollow pathways and gardens and terraced +walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives to their mother's +melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and wan, there were +hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead grew deeper night +after night. + +August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, +and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and +gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow decline +in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an impassioned soul +and intense love of her children. Old Annette seemed to see that death +was very near. That mistress, beautiful still, was more careful of her +appearance than she had ever been; she was at pains to adorn her wasted +self, and wore paint on her cheeks; but often while she walked on the +upper terrace with the children, Annette's wrinkled face would peer out +from between the savin trees by the pump. The old woman would forget her +work, and stand with wet linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back +her tears at the sight of Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting +woman she once had been. + +The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it +was a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the walk +to the bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis had +almost identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with his +suddenly developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and +exhaustion under the red color, and constantly found reasons for taking +some shorter walk. + +So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of +Tours, and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the "dike," +saw a pale, thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet bright +face, gliding like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering +cannot be concealed. The vinedresser's household had grown quiet also. +Sometimes the laborer and his wife and children were gathered about the +door of their cottage, while Annette was washing linen at the well-head, +and Mme. Willemsens and the children sat in the summer-house, and there +was not the faintest sound in those gardens gay with flowers. Unknown to +Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew pitiful at the sight of her, she was +so good, so thoughtful, so dignified with those with whom she came in +contact. + +And as for her.--When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and bright +in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and healthful +influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the ravages of +mysterious disease--she saw no one but her children, taking the utmost +that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been her last. + +Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense +progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far +as equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive +geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass the +entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + +Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was +a lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly +face, medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy's imagination, +and the officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes +sparkled with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and eager +for information, used to follow in the lieutenant's wake for the chance +of a chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend and +comrade in the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the rolls +like himself; and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning what +life was like in camp or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he plied +the veterans with questions; and when he had made up his mind to the +hardships of their rough callings, he asked his mother's leave to take +country walks by way of amusement. Mme. Willemsens was beyond measure +glad that he should ask; the boy's astonished masters had told her that +he was overworking himself. So Louis went for long walks. He tried to +inure himself to fatigue, climbed the tallest trees with incredible +quickness, learned to swim, watched through the night. He was not like +the same boy; he was a young man already, with a sunburned face, and a +something in his expression that told of deep purpose. + +When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The +sunshine, reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the +rocks, raised the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm +and soft as the atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the +faculty recommend the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit +under the shade of green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered +from her now. Lessons had come to an end. Mother and children wished to +live the life of heart and heart together, with no disturbing element, +no outside cares. No tears now, no joyous outcries. The elder boy, lying +in the grass at his mother's side, basked in her eyes like a lover and +kissed her feet. Marie, the restless one, gathered flowers for her, and +brought them with a subdued look, standing on tiptoe to put a girlish +kiss on her lips. And the pale woman, with the great tired eyes and +languid movements, never uttered a word of complaint, and smiled upon +her children, so full of life and health--it was a sublime picture, +lacking no melancholy autumn pomp of yellow leaves and half-despoiled +branches, nor the softened sunlight and pale clouds of the skies of +Touraine. + +At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every day +it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children were +always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano for +the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the instrument; +and at the window she could see her children standing with their heads +close together. Again and again she looked from the children to the +landscape, and then again at the children. Her face flushed, her fingers +flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. This was her last +great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her own soul by the +spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he ordered her to stay in +bed. The alarming dictum was received with bewildered silence. + +When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + +"Louis," she said, "take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my +country once more." + +The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his +mother out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps unconsciously, +to heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it would have been hard +to say whether heaven or earth was the fairer--for the clouds traced +shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine glaciers, against the sky. +Mme. Willemsens' brows contracted vehemently; there was a look of +anguish and remorse in her eyes. She caught the children's hands, and +clutched them to a heavily-throbbing heart. + +"'Parentage unknown!'" she cried, with a look that went to their hearts. +"Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty years +old, what strict account may you not require of my life and your own?" + +She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the balustrade, +stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, fearful of all +eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw Louis and Marie +kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they watched the +expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + +"If only I could take that smile with me!" she said, drying her eyes. + +Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only +leave for her coffin. + +A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis took +it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their eyes +from the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in all +our lives, the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath lest it +should be the last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On the fifth +day of that fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the room. The +illusions of life were going one by one. + +Then Marie and his brother felt their mother's lips hot as fire beneath +their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. Willemsens was +too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was left in disorder. +This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung so persistently to +the graces of life, meant the beginning of the death-agony. After this, +Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday night, in the midst of the +deepest silence, when Louis thought that she had grown drowsy, he saw a +white, moist hand move the curtain in the lamplight. + +"My son!" she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman's +tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent reaction +on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow of his +bones. + +"What is it, mother?" + +"Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no +more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make +some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take +the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will +find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, +and on the other MARIE." + +"Here they are, mother." + +"Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. Give +them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them when +you need them. Now," she continued, "is there not another paper as well, +something in my handwriting?" + +"Yes, mother," and Louis began to read, "_Marie Willemsens, born +at_----" + +"That is enough," she broke in quickly, "do not go on. When I am +dead, give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the +registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death +is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter +which I will dictate to you." + +When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for the +words, they came from her quietly:-- + +"Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near +Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you." + +"Sign yourself----" she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + +"Are you feeling worse?" asked Louis. + +"Put 'Louis-Gaston,'" she went on. + +She sighed, then she went on. + +"Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde +Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the +letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now," she added, after a +pause, "take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear +child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it," she said, when Louis +had returned to her side. "That is all your own. Oh me! you would have +been better off if your father----" + +"My father," cried the boy, "where is he?" + +"He is dead," she said, laying her finger on her lips; "he died to save +my honor and my life." + +She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have +wept for pain. + +"Louis," she continued, "swear to me, as I lie here, that you will +forget all that you have written, all that I have told you." + +"Yes, mother." + +"Kiss me, dear angel." + +She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from +God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her. + +"Listen," she began. "Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have +in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead +the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours +then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go +out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette's future +secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay +at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?" + +She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her +bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale +with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + +"I have thought it over, mother," he answered in a deep voice. "I will +take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs +to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after +Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest, +and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to +be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace, +my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall +go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his +bent." + +A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman's eyes. Two tears brimmed over, +and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped between her +lips. The sudden joy of finding the father's spirit in the son, who had +grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + +"Angel of heaven," she cried, weeping, "by one word you have effaced all +my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.--This is my son," she said, "I bore, I +reared this man," and she raised her hands above her, and clasped them +as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + +"Mother, your face is growing pale!" cried the lad. + +"Some one must go for a priest," she answered, with a dying voice. + +Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the +parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + +When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the most +touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, with +Annette and the vinedresser's family, simple folk, who had already +become part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by a +chorister, a peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the +dying mother received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! +sublime word, containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only +possessed by the apostolic religion of the Roman church. + +"This woman has suffered greatly!" the old cure said in his simple way. + +Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed upon +her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing in the +deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals a deep +sigh told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within her; then +at last it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. He, poor +child, was still too young to know what death meant. + +Annette and the vinedresser's wife closed the eyes of the adorable +woman, whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then the +women took possession of the chamber of death, removed the furniture, +wrapped the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon the couch. They +lit tapers about her, and arranged everything--the crucifix, the sprigs +of box, and the holy-water stoup--after the custom of the countryside, +bolting the shutters and drawing the curtains. Later the curate came to +pass the night in prayer with Louis, who refused to leave his mother. On +Tuesday morning an old woman and two children and a vinedresser's wife +followed the dead to her grave. These were the only mourners. Yet +this was a woman whose wit and beauty and charm had won a European +reputation, a woman whose funeral, if it had taken place in London, +would have been recorded in pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a sort of +aristocratic rite, if she had not committed the sweetest of crimes, a +crime always expiated in this world, so that the pardoned spirit may +enter heaven. Marie cried when they threw the earth on his mother's +coffin; he understood that he should see her no more. + +A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this inscription, +due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:-- + + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + _Pray for her!_ + +When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a +last look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with +Annette, leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand over +everything duly to the proper authorities. + +At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen +door, and took him aside with, "Here is madame's ring, Monsieur Louis." + +The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so +deeply that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this +supreme piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman's neck. Then +the three set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and so +to Tours, without turning their heads. + +"Mamma used to come there!" Marie said when they reached the bridge. + +Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de la +Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin's house, meaning that +they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his plans, +gave Marie's certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs into her +keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to school. + +Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. +Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn +parting words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would now +be left alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, and +put his arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear from his +eyes, and went, turning again and again till the very last to see his +brother standing there in the gateway of the school. + + + +A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, +left the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the corvette +Iris, he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it became +indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little while +he felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, lost and +alone in the world and in life. + +"There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all," said an old +sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + +The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, and +resigned himself to a sailor's life. He was a father. + + +ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + + Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + + Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + + Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 1428.txt or 1428.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1428/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: La Grenadiere + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: October 27, 2004 [EBook #1428] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny, and John Bickers + + + + + + LA GRENADIERE + + BY + + HONORE DE BALZAC + + + Translated By + Ellen Marriage + + + + To D. W. + + + +La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you +go down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point +the river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, +flows between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly +of white stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest +fruit in the world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient +toil of many generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the +face of the rock reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot +climates may be grown out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + + + +A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of +cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered +houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into +the Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + +La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred +paces from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating +back some two or three hundred years, which you find in every +picturesque spot in Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient +space for a flight of steps descending gradually to the "dike"--the +local name for the embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep +the Loire in its bed, and serve as a causeway for the highroad from +Paris to Nantes. At the top of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow +stony footpath between two terraces, for here the soil is banked up, +and walls are built to prevent landslips. These earthworks, as it +were, are crowned with trellises and espaliers, so that the steep path +that lies at the foot of the upper wall is almost hidden by the trees +that grow on the top of the lower, upon which it lies. The view of the +river widens out before you at every step as you climb to the house. + +At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered with +simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with +wildflowers--moss and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall +on the hillside is decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which +springs up along the cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of +year. + +The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few +trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes--a garden won from +the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade +along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands +against the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and +honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + +The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a +vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that +leads to vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling +trellised vines and pomegranate-trees (the _grenadiers_, which give the +name to the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front +of the house consists of two large windows on either side of a very +rustic-looking house door, and three dormer windows in the roof--a +slate roof with two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to +the low ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; +and door, and first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the +attic windows, all are painted green. + +Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked +staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, +the spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves +take a new angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled +dining-room, floored with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is +on your right; to the left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here +the walls are not paneled; they have been covered instead with a +saffron-colored paper, bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters +are left visible, and the intervening spaces filled with a kind of +white plaster. + +The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone +chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms +beneath. Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save +a single door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give +access to the vineyard. Against the western wall stands a +supplementary timber-framed structure, all the woodwork exposed to the +weather being fledged with slates, so that the walls are checkered +with bluish lines. This shed (for it is little more) is the kitchen of +the establishment. You can pass from it into the house without going +outside; but, nevertheless, it boasts an entrance door of its own, and +a short flight of steps that brings you to a deep well, and a very +rustical-looking pump, half hidden by water-plants and savin bushes +and tall grasses. The kitchen is a modern addition, proving beyond +doubt that La Grenadiere was originally nothing but a simple +_vendangeoir_--a vintage-house belonging to townsfolk in Tours, from +which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast river-bed of the Loire. The +owners only came over for the day for a picnic, or at the +vintage-time, sending provisions across in the morning, and scarcely +ever spent the night there except during the grape harvest; but the +English settled down on Touraine like a cloud of locusts, and La +Grenadiere must, of course, be completed if it was to find tenants. +Luckily, however, this recent appendage is hidden from sight by the +first two trees of a lime-tree avenue planted in a gully below the +vineyards. + +There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the +back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to +scramble up among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing +shoots, ends within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like +passage always damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, +fed by the drainage of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy +weather washes down the manure into the garden on the terrace. + +A vinedresser's cottage also leans against the western gable, and is +in some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers +surround the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among +the vines; in short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If +by chance man overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a +fig-tree, or sows wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among +the stones. + +Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble +and yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and wide +views of country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of +Touraine--all its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty +of the land are fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, +figs and peaches and pears of every kind; melons are grown out of +doors as easily as licorice plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, +and jessamines from the Azores. The Loire lies at your feet. You look +down from the terrace upon the ever-changing river nearly two hundred +feet below; and in the evening the breeze brings a fresh scent of the +sea, with the fragrance of far-off flowers gathered upon its way. Some +cloud wandering in space, changing its color and form at every moment +as it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can alter every detail in the +widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand ways, from every point of +view. The eye embraces first of all the south bank of the Loire, +stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its suburbs and +buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; further +away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of crescent +of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your view +are the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon +broken by many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to +the west you lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come +and go, spreading their white sails to the winds which seldom fail +them in the wide Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at +La Grenadiere, but certainly it will always be the home of a poet's +desire, and the sweetest of retreats for two young lovers--for this +vintage house, which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has +charms for every imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as +for the most impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without +feeling that happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is +meant by a peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in +the air and the sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands +have a language, and are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the +owner of the vineyard may sit motionless amid perennial flowers and +tempting fruit, and feel all the stir of the world about him. + +If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a +thousand francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not +included. If the tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is +doubled; for the vintage, it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere +be worth, you wonder; La Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its +beaten path and triple terrace, its two acres of vineyard, its +flowering roses about the balustrades, its worn steps, well-head, +rampant clematis, and cosmopolitan trees? It is idle to make a bid! La +Grenadiere will never be in the market; it was brought once and sold, +but that was in 1690; and the owner parted with it for forty thousand +francs, reluctant as any Arab of the desert to relinquish a favorite +horse. Since then it has remained in the same family, its pride, its +patrimonial jewel, its Regent diamond. "While you behold, you have and +hold," says the bard. And from La Grenadiere you behold three valleys +of Touraine and the cathedral towers aloft in air like a bit of +filigree work. How can one pay for such treasures? Could one ever pay +for the health recovered there under the linden-trees? + +In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady +with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen +years old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look +for a house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance +from the town was an inducement to live there. + +She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two +rooms above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. +The dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the +little family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; +there was nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The +walnut-wood furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, +and the whole charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony +with its surroundings. + +It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady +(Mme. Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle +or higher classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. +Her plain dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but +her manners might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had +not lived at Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve +excited the curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in +the country, watch anybody or anything that promises to bring some +interest into their narrow lives. + +Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but +delicately shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace +of her instep and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of +slenderness; her gloved hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting +patches of deep red in a pale face, which must have been fresh and +softly colored once. Premature wrinkles had withered the delicately +modeled forehead beneath the coronet of soft, well-set chestnut hair, +invariably wound about her head in two plaits, a girlish coiffure +which suited the melancholy face. There was a deceptive look of calm +in the dark eyes, with the hollow, shadowy circles about them; +sometimes, when she was off her guard, their expression told of secret +anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat long; but happiness and +health had perhaps filled and perfected the outlines. A forced smile, +full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on her pale lips; but when +the children, who were always with her, looked up at their mother, or +asked one of the incessant idle questions which convey so much to a +mother's ears, then the smile brightened, and expressed the joys of a +mother's love. Her gait was slow and dignified. Her dress never +varied; evidently she had made up her mind to think no more of her +toilette, and to forget a world by which she meant no doubt to be +forgotten. She wore a long, black gown, confined at the waist by a +watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf a lawn handkerchief with a +broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly through her waistband. The +instinct of dress showed itself in that she was daintily shod, and +gray silk stockings carried out the suggestion of mourning in this +unvarying costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after the English +fashion, always of the same shape and the same gray material, and a +black veil. Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked very +ill. On fine evenings she would take her only walk, down to the bridge +of Tours, bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, +cool air along the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a +landscape as wide as the Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + +During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice +into Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him +to give her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and +mathematics; and a second time to make arrangements for the children's +lessons. But her appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice +a week, was quite enough to excite the interest of almost all the +inhabitants of Tours, who make a regular promenade of the bridge. +Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant, a +provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless +inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for +certain of the newcomer's rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the +owner of La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name +under which the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, +therefore, in all probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of +Brandon. This, of course, must be her husband's name. Events, which +will be narrated in their place, confirmed this revelation; but it +went no further than the little world of men of business known to the +landlord. + +So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. +Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully +natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all +that she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her +sadness, her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, +there was so much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; +but the more sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, +the lady inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough +courage to speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to +her, their letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. +Willemsens' practice to throw all the letters which she received into +the fire, as if she meant that the time spent in Touraine should be +untroubled by any outside cares even of the slightest. She might have +come to the enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of +living. + +The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke +with something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that +they saw there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by +this woman and the children. + +The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could not +see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. +Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent +complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, +the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + +The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything +about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, +high brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He +was quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a +trace of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to +think about everything that he saw. + +Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though +a lock here and there had deepened to the mother's chestnut tint. +Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle +grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There +was a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was +something feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, +wavy curls, and his mother would not have him give up embroidered +collars, and little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped +buttons; evidently she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the +costume, a source of as much interest to the mother as to the child. +The elder boy's plain white collar, turned down over a closely fitting +jacket, made a contrast with his brother's clothing, but the color and +material were the same; the two brothers were otherwise dressed alike, +and looked alike. + +No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which +Louis took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the +older boy's eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of +gratitude to Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from +the stem that bore them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same +ray of sunlight; but the one was a brightly colored flower, the other +somewhat bleached and pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in +their mother's voice, they grew heedful, turned to look at her and +listened, and did at once what they were bidden, or asked, or +recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens had so accustomed them to +understand her wishes and desires, that the three seemed to have their +thoughts in common. When they went for a walk, and the children, +absorbed in their play, ran away to gather a flower or to look at some +insect, she watched them with such deep tenderness in her eyes, that +the most indifferent passer-by would feel moved, and stop and smile at +the children, and give the mother a glance of friendly greeting. Who +would not have admired the dainty neatness of their dress, their +sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, the promise in +their faces, the innate something that told of careful training from +the cradle? They seemed as if they had never shed tears nor wailed +like other children. Their mother knew, as it were, by electrically +swift intuition, the desires and the pains which she anticipated and +relieved. She seemed to dread a complaint from one of them more than +the loss of her soul. Everything in her children did honor to their +mother's training. Their threefold life, seemingly one life, called up +vague, fond thoughts; it was like a vision of the dreamed-of bliss of +a better world. And the three, so attuned to each other, lived in +truth such a life as one might picture for them at first sight--the +ordered, simple, and regular life best suited for a child's education. + +Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, +a habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere +petition had been put up every morning on their mother's bed, and +begun and ended by a kiss. Then the two brothers went through their +morning toilet as scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had +been trained in habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary +to health of body and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense +of wellbeing. Conscientiously they went through their duties, so +afraid were they lest their mother should say when she kissed them at +breakfast-time, "My darling children, where can you have been to have +such black finger-nails already?" Then the two went out into the +garden and shook off the dreams of the night in the morning air and +dew, until sweeping and dusting operations were completed, and they +could learn their lessons in the sitting-room until their mother +joined them. But although it was understood that they must not go to +their mother's room before a certain hour, they peeped in at the door +continually; and these morning inroads, made in defiance of the +original compact, were delicious moments for all three. Marie sprang +upon the bed to put his arms around his idolized mother, and Louis, +kneeling by the pillow, took her hand in his. Then came inquiries, +anxious as a lover's, followed by angelic laughter, passionate +childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, and the little +ones' stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories seldom +finished, though the listener's interest never failed. + +"Have you been industrious?" their mother would ask, but in tones so +sweet and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a +misfortune, and to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied +with himself. + +She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the +children's work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and +that all her thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful +instinct, neither selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent +beginnings of sentiment teaches children to know whether or not they +are the first and sole thought, to find out those who love to think of +them and for them. If you really love children, the dear little ones, +with open hearts and unerring sense of justice, are marvelously ready +to respond to love. Their love knows passion and jealousy and the most +gracious delicacy of feeling; they find the tenderest words of +expression; they trust you--put an entire belief in you. Perhaps there +are no undutiful children without undutiful mothers, for a child's +affection is always in proportion to the affection that it receives +--in early care, in the first words that it hears, in the response of +the eyes to which a child first looks for love and life. All these +things draw them closer to the mother or drive them apart. God lays +the child under the mother's heart, that she may learn that for a long +time to come her heart must be its home. And yet--there are mothers +cruelly slighted, mothers whose sublime, pathetic tenderness meets +only a harsh return, a hideous ingratitude which shows how difficult +it is to lay down hard-and-fast rules in matters of feeling. + +Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and +mother had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived +one life, a life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in +the morning, Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in +her, even those thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, +with a precocious power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his +mother's assertion that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face +with uneasy forebodings; the exact danger he did not know, but dimly +he felt it threatening in those purple rings about her eyes, in the +deepening hollows under them, and the feverish red that deepened in +her face. If Marie's play began to tire her, his sensitive tact was +quick to discover this, and he would call to his brother: + +"Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!" + +But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the +expression on his mother's face. She still could find a smile for him, +nay, often there were tears in her eyes when some little thing +revealed her child's exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of +sorrow. + +Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children's early breakfast and game +of play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be +pleasing in their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things +lovely, a gracious vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of +which one can never have enough. + +She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted +from ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three +taking the meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children +played for an hour, while she--poor woman and happy mother--lay on a +long sofa in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over +the soft, ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to +see afresh in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and +sky and the time of year. + +The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the +terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; +investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all +questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and +the summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country, +everything amuses them. + +Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She never +spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed +attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the +words to gain a general idea of Louis' progress. If Louis asked a +question that puzzled his master, his mother's eyes suddenly lighted +up, and she would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of +Marie she asked little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already +she treated him, as it were, respectfully, using all a woman's, all a +mother's tact to arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to +teach him to think of himself as capable of great things. She did this +with a secret purpose, which Louis was to understand in the future; +nay, he understood it already. + +Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, +and asked strict account of Louis' progress. So kindly and so winning +was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where +Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came +dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned +till bedtime. + +So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and +amusements left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and +quarreling were impossible. The mother's boundless love made +everything smooth. She taught her little sons moderation by refusing +them nothing, and submission by making them see underlying Necessity +in its many forms; she put heart into them with timely praise; +developing and strengthening all that was best in their natures with +the care of a good fairy. Tears sometimes rose to her burning eyes as +she watched them play, and thought how they had never caused her the +slightest vexation. Happiness so far-reaching and complete brings such +tears, because for us it represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which +we all of us form in our minds. + +Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, in +looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the +picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children's voices +as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that +told most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis' paternal care of +Marie, of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English +and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their +babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing +the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting no +fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness, +concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books, +she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of +biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men, +for little incidents in their history gave her numberless +opportunities of explaining the world and life to her children. She +would point out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had +risen from obscurity; how they had started from the lowest ranks of +society, with no one to look to but themselves, and achieved noble +destinies. + +These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis' lessons, +took place while little Marie slept on his mother's knee in the quiet +of the summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they +ended, this adorable woman's sadness always seemed to be doubled; she +would cease to speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes +would fill with tears. + +"Mother, why are you crying?" Louis asked one balmy June evening, just +as the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + +Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child's neck +and drew him to her. + +"Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless +lad who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother's, +and I have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will +be alone in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you +are still children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait +till you are big enough and know enough to be Marie's guardian! But I +shall not live so long. I love you so much that it makes me very +unhappy to think of it. Dear children, if only you do not curse me +some day!----" + +"But why should I curse you some day, mother?" + +"Some day," she said, kissing him on the forehead, "you will find out +that I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, +without"--and she hesitated--"without a father," she added, and at the +word she burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of +intuition told Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he +carried off Marie, now half awake. An hour later, when his brother was +in bed, he stole down and out to the summer-house where his mother was +sitting. + +"Louis! come here." + +The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang +to his mother's arms, and the two held each other in an almost +convulsive embrace. + +"_Cherie_," he said at last, the name by which he often called her, +finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, +"_cherie_, why are you afraid that you are going to die?" + +"I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there +is no cure for my illness; I know that." + +"What is the matter with you?" + +"Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never know. +--You must not know what caused my death." + +The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at his +mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the +clouds. It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his +mother would die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he +could not guess. He respected her long musings. If he had been rather +older, he would have read happy memories blended with thoughts of +repentance, the whole story of a woman's life in that sublime face +--the careless childhood, the loveless marriage, a terrible passion, +flowers springing up in storm and struck down by the thunderbolt into +an abyss from which there is no return. + +"Darling mother," Louis said at last, "why do you hide your pain from +me?" + +"My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers," she said; "we +should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor +think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family +life, conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah +me! then think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, +hiding her sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure +the ills of life." + +She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand the +mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and +consideration that it gives, and its bearing on social position; the +honorable means of gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a +training. Then she told him that one of the chief causes of her +sadness and her tears was the thought that, on the morrow of her +death, he and Marie would be left almost resourceless, with but a +slender stock of money, and no friend but God. + +"How quick I must be about learning!" cried Louis, giving her a +piteous, searching look. + +"Oh! how happy I am!" she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. +"He understands me!--Louis," she went on, "you will be your brother's +guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a +child!" + +"Yes, I promise," he said; "but you are not going to die yet--say that +you are not going to die!" + +"Poor little ones!" she replied, "love for you keeps the life in me. +And this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps----" + +"You make me love Touraine more than ever," said the child. + +From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, +spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his +work, grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than +heretofore. When he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up +boisterous games, there was less noise in the hollow pathways and +gardens and terraced walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives +to their mother's melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and +wan, there were hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead +grew deeper night after night. + +August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, +and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and +gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow +decline in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an +impassioned soul and intense love of her children. Old Annette seemed +to see that death was very near. That mistress, beautiful still, was +more careful of her appearance than she had ever been; she was at +pains to adorn her wasted self, and wore paint on her cheeks; but +often while she walked on the upper terrace with the children, +Annette's wrinkled face would peer out from between the savin trees by +the pump. The old woman would forget her work, and stand with wet +linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back her tears at the sight of +Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting woman she once had +been. + +The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it +was a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the +walk to the bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis +had almost identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with +his suddenly developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and +exhaustion under the red color, and constantly found reasons for +taking some shorter walk. + +So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of +Tours, and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the "dike," +saw a pale, thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet +bright face, gliding like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering +cannot be concealed. The vinedresser's household had grown quiet also. +Sometimes the laborer and his wife and children were gathered about +the door of their cottage, while Annette was washing linen at the +well-head, and Mme. Willemsens and the children sat in the +summer-house, and there was not the faintest sound in those gardens gay +with flowers. Unknown to Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew pitiful at the +sight of her, she was so good, so thoughtful, so dignified with those +with whom she came in contact. + +And as for her.--When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and +bright in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and +healthful influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the +ravages of mysterious disease--she saw no one but her children, taking +the utmost that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been her +last. + +Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense +progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far as +equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive +geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass +the entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + +Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was +a lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly +face, medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy's imagination, +and the officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes +sparkled with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and +eager for information, used to follow in the lieutenant's wake for the +chance of a chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend +and comrade in the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the +rolls like himself; and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning +what life was like in camp or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he +plied the veterans with questions; and when he had made up his mind to +the hardships of their rough callings, he asked his mother's leave to +take country walks by way of amusement. Mme. Willemsens was beyond +measure glad that he should ask; the boy's astonished masters had told +her that he was overworking himself. So Louis went for long walks. He +tried to inure himself to fatigue, climbed the tallest trees with +incredible quickness, learned to swim, watched through the night. He +was not like the same boy; he was a young man already, with a +sunburned face, and a something in his expression that told of deep +purpose. + +When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The +sunshine, reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the +rocks, raised the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm +and soft as the atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the +faculty recommend the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit +under the shade of green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered +from her now. Lessons had come to an end. Mother and children wished +to live the life of heart and heart together, with no disturbing +element, no outside cares. No tears now, no joyous outcries. The elder +boy, lying in the grass at his mother's side, basked in her eyes like +a lover and kissed her feet. Marie, the restless one, gathered flowers +for her, and brought them with a subdued look, standing on tiptoe to +put a girlish kiss on her lips. And the pale woman, with the great +tired eyes and languid movements, never uttered a word of complaint, +and smiled upon her children, so full of life and health--it was a +sublime picture, lacking no melancholy autumn pomp of yellow leaves +and half-despoiled branches, nor the softened sunlight and pale clouds +of the skies of Touraine. + +At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every +day it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children +were always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano +for the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the +instrument; and at the window she could see her children standing with +their heads close together. Again and again she looked from the +children to the landscape, and then again at the children. Her face +flushed, her fingers flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. +This was her last great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her +own soul by the spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he +ordered her to stay in bed. The alarming dictum was received with +bewildered silence. + +When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + +"Louis," she said, "take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my +country once more." + +The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his +mother out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps +unconsciously, to heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it +would have been hard to say whether heaven or earth was the fairer +--for the clouds traced shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine +glaciers, against the sky. Mme. Willemsens' brows contracted +vehemently; there was a look of anguish and remorse in her eyes. She +caught the children's hands, and clutched them to a heavily-throbbing +heart. + +"'Parentage unknown!'" she cried, with a look that went to their +hearts. "Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty +years old, what strict account may you not require of my life and your +own?" + +She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the +balustrade, stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, +fearful of all eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw +Louis and Marie kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they +watched the expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + +"If only I could take that smile with me!" she said, drying her eyes. + +Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only +leave for her coffin. + +A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis +took it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their +eyes from the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in +all our lives, the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath +lest it should be the last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On +the fifth day of that fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the +room. The illusions of life were going one by one. + +Then Marie and his brother felt their mother's lips hot as fire +beneath their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. +Willemsens was too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was +left in disorder. This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung +so persistently to the graces of life, meant the beginning of the +death-agony. After this, Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday +night, in the midst of the deepest silence, when Louis thought that +she had grown drowsy, he saw a white, moist hand move the curtain in +the lamplight. + +"My son!" she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman's +tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent +reaction on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow +of his bones. + +"What is it, mother?" + +"Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no +more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make +some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take +the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will +find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, +and on the other MARIE." + +"Here they are, mother." + +"Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. +Give them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them +when you need them. Now," she continued, "is there not another paper +as well, something in my handwriting?" + +"Yes, mother," and Louis began to read, "_Marie Willemsens, born +at_----" + +"That is enough," she broke in quickly, "do not go on. When I am dead, +give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the +registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death +is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter +which I will dictate to you." + +When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for +the words, they came from her quietly:-- + +"Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near +Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you." + +"Sign yourself----" she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + +"Are you feeling worse?" asked Louis. + +"Put 'Louis-Gaston,'" she went on. + +She sighed, then she went on. + +"Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde +Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the +letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now," she added, after a +pause, "take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my +dear child. . . . There are twelve thousand francs in it," she said, +when Louis had returned to her side. "That is all your own. Oh me! you +would have been better off if your father----" + +"My father," cried the boy, "where is he?" + +"He is dead," she said, laying her finger on her lips; "he died to +save my honor and my life." + +She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have +wept for pain. + +"Louis," she continued, "swear to me, as I lie here, that you will +forget all that you have written, all that I have told you." + +"Yes, mother." + +"Kiss me, dear angel." + +She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength +from God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in +her. + +"Listen," she began. "Those twelve thousand francs are all that you +have in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am +dead the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be +yours then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will +be to go out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made +Annette's future secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, +and she will stay at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself +and your brother?" + +She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her +bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale +with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + +"I have thought it over, mother," he answered in a deep voice. "I will +take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand +francs to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to +look after Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will +go to Brest, and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, +I will rise to be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after +all, die in peace, my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and +our little one shall go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a +career to suit his bent." + +A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman's eyes. Two tears brimmed +over, and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped +between her lips. The sudden joy of finding the father's spirit in the +son, who had grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + +"Angel of heaven," she cried, weeping, "by one word you have effaced +all my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.--This is my son," she said, "I +bore, I reared this man," and she raised her hands above her, and +clasped them as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + +"Mother, your face is growing pale!" cried the lad. + +"Some one must go for a priest," she answered, with a dying voice. + +Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the +parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + +When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the +most touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, +with Annette and the vinedresser's family, simple folk, who had +already become part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by +a chorister, a peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the +dying mother received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! +sublime word, containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only +possessed by the apostolic religion of the Roman church. + +"This woman has suffered greatly!" the old cure said in his simple +way. + +Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed +upon her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing +in the deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals +a deep sigh told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within +her; then at last it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. +He, poor child, was still too young to know what death meant. + +Annette and the vinedresser's wife closed the eyes of the adorable +woman, whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then +the women took possession of the chamber of death, removed the +furniture, wrapped the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon +the couch. They lit tapers about her, and arranged everything--the +crucifix, the sprigs of box, and the holy-water stoup--after the +custom of the countryside, bolting the shutters and drawing the +curtains. Later the curate came to pass the night in prayer with +Louis, who refused to leave his mother. On Tuesday morning an old +woman and two children and a vinedresser's wife followed the dead to +her grave. These were the only mourners. Yet this was a woman whose +wit and beauty and charm had won a European reputation, a woman whose +funeral, if it had taken place in London, would have been recorded in +pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a sort of aristocratic rite, if she +had not committed the sweetest of crimes, a crime always expiated in +this world, so that the pardoned spirit may enter heaven. Marie cried +when they threw the earth on his mother's coffin; he understood that +he should see her no more. + +A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this +inscription, due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:-- + + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. + KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + _Pray for her!_ + +When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a +last look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with +Annette, leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand +over everything duly to the proper authorities. + +At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen +door, and took him aside with, "Here is madame's ring, Monsieur +Louis." + +The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so +deeply that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this +supreme piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman's neck. Then +the three set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and +so to Tours, without turning their heads. + +"Mamma used to come there!" Marie said when they reached the bridge. + +Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de +la Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin's house, meaning +that they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his +plans, gave Marie's certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs +into her keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to +school. + +Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. +Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn +parting words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would +now be left alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, +and put his arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear +from his eyes, and went, turning again and again till the very last to +see his brother standing there in the gateway of the school. + + + +A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, +left the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the +corvette Iris, he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it +became indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little +while he felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, +lost and alone in the world and in life. + +"There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all," said an old +sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + +The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, +and resigned himself to a sailor's life. He was a father. + + + +ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + +Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + +Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA GRENADIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 1428.txt or 1428.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/4/2/1428/ + +Produced by Dagny, and John Bickers + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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W. + + + +La Grenadiere is a little house on the right bank of the Loire as you +go down stream, about a mile below the bridge of Tours. At this point +the river, broad as a lake, and covered with scattered green islands, +flows between two lines of cliff, where country houses built uniformly +of white stone stand among their gardens and vineyards. The finest +fruit in the world ripens there with a southern exposure. The patient +toil of many generations has cut terraces in the cliff, so that the +face of the rock reflects the rays of the sun, and the produce of hot +climates may be grown out of doors in an artificially high temperature. + + + +A church spire, rising out of one of the shallower dips in the line of +cliffs, marks the little village of Saint-Cyr, to which the scattered +houses all belong. And yet a little further the Choisille flows into +the Loire, through a fertile valley cut in the long low downs. + +La Grenadiere itself, half-way up the hillside, and about a hundred +paces from the church, is one of those old-fashioned houses dating +back some two or three hundred years, which you find in every +picturesque spot in Touraine. A fissure in the rock affords convenient +space for a flight of steps descending gradually to the "dike"--the +local name for the embankment made at the foot of the cliffs to keep +the Loire in its bed, and serve as a causeway for the highroad from +Paris to Nantes. At the top of the steps a gate opens upon a narrow +stony footpath between two terraces, for here the soil is banked up, +and walls are built to prevent landslips. These earthworks, as it +were, are crowned with trellises and espaliers, so that the steep path +that lies at the foot of the upper wall is almost hidden by the trees +that grow on the top of the lower, upon which it lies. The view of the +river widens out before you at every step as you climb to the house. + +At the end you come to a second gateway, a Gothic archway covered with +simple ornament, now crumbling into ruin and overgrown with +wildflowers--moss and ivy, wallflowers and pellitory. Every stone wall +on the hillside is decked with this ineradicable plant-life, which +springs up along the cracks afresh with new wreaths for every time of +year. + +The worm-eaten gate gives into a little garden, a strip of turf, a few +trees, and a wilderness of flowers and rose bushes--a garden won from +the rock on the highest terrace of all, with the dark, old balustrade +along its edge. Opposite the gateway, a wooden summer-house stands +against the neighboring wall, the posts are covered with jessamine and +honeysuckle, vines and clematis. + +The house itself stands in the middle of this highest garden, above a +vine-covered flight of steps, with an arched doorway beneath that +leads to vast cellars hollowed out in the rock. All about the dwelling +trellised vines and pomegranate-trees (the grenadiers, which give the +name to the little close) are growing out in the open air. The front +of the house consists of two large windows on either side of a very +rustic-looking house door, and three dormer windows in the roof--a +slate roof with two gables, prodigiously high-pitched in proportion to +the low ground-floor. The house walls are washed with yellow color; +and door, and first-floor shutters, all the Venetian shutters of the +attic windows, all are painted green. + +Entering the house, you find yourself in a little lobby with a crooked +staircase straight in front of you. It is a crazy wooden structure, +the spiral balusters are brown with age, and the steps themselves take +a new angle at every turn. The great old-fashioned paneled dining- +room, floored with square white tiles from Chateau-Regnault, is on +your right; to the left is the sitting-room, equally large, but here +the walls are not paneled; they have been covered instead with a +saffron-colored paper, bordered with green. The walnut-wood rafters +are left visible, and the intervening spaces filled with a kind of +white plaster. + +The first story consists of two large whitewashed bedrooms with stone +chimney-pieces, less elaborately carved than those in the rooms +beneath. Every door and window is on the south side of the house, save +a single door to the north, contrived behind the staircase to give +access to the vineyard. Against the western wall stands a +supplementary timber-framed structure, all the woodwork exposed to the +weather being fledged with slates, so that the walls are checkered +with bluish lines. This shed (for it is little more) is the kitchen of +the establishment. You can pass from it into the house without going +outside; but, nevertheless, it boasts an entrance door of its own, and +a short flight of steps that brings you to a deep well, and a very +rustical-looking pump, half hidden by water-plants and savin bushes +and tall grasses. The kitchen is a modern addition, proving beyond +doubt that La Grenadiere was originally nothing but a simple +vendangeoir--a vintage-house belonging to townsfolk in Tours, from +which Saint-Cyr is separated by the vast river-bed of the Loire. The +owners only came over for the day for a picnic, or at the vintage- +time, sending provisions across in the morning, and scarcely ever +spent the night there except during the grape harvest; but the English +settled down on Touraine like a cloud of locusts, and La Grenadiere +must, of course, be completed if it was to find tenants. Luckily, +however, this recent appendage is hidden from sight by the first two +trees of a lime-tree avenue planted in a gully below the vineyards. + +There are only two acres of vineyard at most, the ground rising at the +back of the house so steeply that it is no very easy matter to +scramble up among the vines. The slope, covered with green trailing +shoots, ends within about five feet of the house wall in a ditch-like +passage always damp and cold and full of strong growing green things, +fed by the drainage of the highly cultivated ground above, for rainy +weather washes down the manure into the garden on the terrace. + +A vinedresser's cottage also leans against the western gable, and is +in some sort a continuation of the kitchen. Stone walls or espaliers +surround the property, and all sorts of fruit-trees are planted among +the vines; in short, not an inch of this precious soil is wasted. If +by chance man overlooks some dry cranny in the rocks, Nature puts in a +fig-tree, or sows wildflowers or strawberries in sheltered nooks among +the stones. + +Nowhere else in all the world will you find a human dwelling so humble +and yet so imposing, so rich in fruit, and fragrant scents, and wide +views of country. Here is a miniature Touraine in the heart of +Touraine--all its flowers and fruits and all the characteristic beauty +of the land are fully represented. Here are grapes of every district, +figs and peaches and pears of every kind; melons are grown out of +doors as easily as licorice plants, Spanish broom, Italian oleanders, +and jessamines from the Azores. The Loire lies at your feet. You look +down from the terrace upon the ever-changing river nearly two hundred +feet below; and in the evening the breeze brings a fresh scent of the +sea, with the fragrance of far-off flowers gathered upon its way. Some +cloud wandering in space, changing its color and form at every moment +as it crosses the pure blue of the sky, can alter every detail in the +widespread wonderful landscape in a thousand ways, from every point of +view. The eye embraces first of all the south bank of the Loire, +stretching away as far as Amboise, then Tours with its suburbs and +buildings, and the Plessis rising out of the fertile plain; further +away, between Vouvray and Saint-Symphorien, you see a sort of crescent +of gray cliff full of sunny vineyards; the only limits to your view +are the low, rich hills along the Cher, a bluish line of horizon +broken by many a chateau and the wooded masses of many a park. Out to +the west you lose yourself in the immense river, where vessels come +and go, spreading their white sails to the winds which seldom fail +them in the wide Loire basin. A prince might build a summer palace at +La Grenadiere, but certainly it will always be the home of a poet's +desire, and the sweetest of retreats for two young lovers--for this +vintage house, which belongs to a substantial burgess of Tours, has +charms for every imagination, for the humblest and dullest as well as +for the most impassioned and lofty. No one can dwell there without +feeling that happiness is in the air, without a glimpse of all that is +meant by a peaceful life without care or ambition. There is that in +the air and the sound of the river that sets you dreaming; the sands +have a language, and are joyous or dreary, golden or wan; and the +owner of the vineyard may sit motionless amid perennial flowers and +tempting fruit, and feel all the stir of the world about him. + +If an Englishman takes the house for the summer, he is asked a +thousand francs for six months, the produce of the vineyard not +included. If the tenant wishes for the orchard fruit, the rent is +doubled; for the vintage, it is doubled again. What can La Grenadiere +be worth, you wonder; La Grenadiere, with its stone staircase, its +beaten path and triple terrace, its two acres of vineyard, its +flowering roses about the balustrades, its worn steps, well-head, +rampant clematis, and cosmopolitan trees? It is idle to make a bid! La +Grenadiere will never be in the market; it was brought once and sold, +but that was in 1690; and the owner parted with it for forty thousand +francs, reluctant as any Arab of the desert to relinquish a favorite +horse. Since then it has remained in the same family, its pride, its +patrimonial jewel, its Regent diamond. "While you behold, you have and +hold," says the bard. And from La Grenadiere you behold three valleys +of Touraine and the cathedral towers aloft in air like a bit of +filigree work. How can one pay for such treasures? Could one ever pay +for the health recovered there under the linden-trees? + +In the spring of one of the brightest years of the Restoration, a lady +with her housekeeper and her two children (the oldest a boy thirteen +years old, the youngest apparently about eight) came to Tours to look +for a house. She saw La Grenadiere and took it. Perhaps the distance +from the town was an inducement to live there. + +She made a bedroom of the drawing-room, gave the children the two +rooms above, and the housekeeper slept in a closet behind the kitchen. +The dining-room was sitting-room and drawing-room all in one for the +little family. The house was furnished very simply but tastefully; +there was nothing superfluous in it, and no trace of luxury. The +walnut-wood furniture chosen by the stranger lady was perfectly plain, +and the whole charm of the house consisted in its neatness and harmony +with its surroundings. + +It was rather difficult, therefore, to say whether the strange lady +(Mme. Willemsens, as she styled herself) belonged to the upper middle +or higher classes, or to an equivocal, unclassified feminine species. +Her plain dress gave rise to the most contradictory suppositions, but +her manners might be held to confirm those favorable to her. She had +not lived at Saint-Cyr, moreover, for very long before her reserve +excited the curiosity of idle people, who always, and especially in +the country, watch anybody or anything that promises to bring some +interest into their narrow lives. + +Mme. Willemsens was rather tall; she was thin and slender, but +delicately shaped. She had pretty feet, more remarkable for the grace +of her instep and ankle than for the more ordinary merit of +slenderness; her gloved hands, too, were shapely. There were flitting +patches of deep red in a pale face, which must have been fresh and +softly colored once. Premature wrinkles had withered the delicately +modeled forehead beneath the coronet of soft, well-set chestnut hair, +invariably wound about her head in two plaits, a girlish coiffure +which suited the melancholy face. There was a deceptive look of calm +in the dark eyes, with the hollow, shadowy circles about them; +sometimes, when she was off her guard, their expression told of secret +anguish. The oval of her face was somewhat long; but happiness and +health had perhaps filled and perfected the outlines. A forced smile, +full of quiet sadness, hovered continually on her pale lips; but when +the children, who were always with her, looked up at their mother, or +asked one of the incessant idle questions which convey so much to a +mother's ears, then the smile brightened, and expressed the joys of a +mother's love. Her gait was slow and dignified. Her dress never +varied; evidently she had made up her mind to think no more of her +toilette, and to forget a world by which she meant no doubt to be +forgotten. She wore a long, black gown, confined at the waist by a +watered-silk ribbon, and by way of scarf a lawn handkerchief with a +broad hem, the two ends passed carelessly through her waistband. The +instinct of dress showed itself in that she was daintily shod, and +gray silk stockings carried out the suggestion of mourning in this +unvarying costume. Lastly, she always wore a bonnet after the English +fashion, always of the same shape and the same gray material, and a +black veil. Her health apparently was extremely weak; she looked very +ill. On fine evenings she would take her only walk, down to the bridge +of Tours, bringing the two children with her to breathe the fresh, +cool air along the Loire, and to watch the sunset effects on a +landscape as wide as the Bay of Naples or the Lake of Geneva. + +During the whole time of her stay at La Grenadiere she went but twice +into Tours; once to call on the headmaster of the school, to ask him +to give her the names of the best masters of Latin, drawing, and +mathematics; and a second time to make arrangements for the children's +lessons. But her appearance on the bridge of an evening, once or twice +a week, was quite enough to excite the interest of almost all the +inhabitants of Tours, who make a regular promenade of the bridge. +Still, in spite of a kind of spy system, by which no harm is meant, a +provincial habit bred of want of occupation and the restless +inquisitiveness of the principal society, nothing was known for +certain of the newcomer's rank, fortune, or real condition. Only, the +owner of La Grenadiere told one or two of his friends that the name +under which the stranger had signed the lease (her real name, +therefore, in all probability) was Augusta Willemsens, Countess of +Brandon. This, of course, must be her husband's name. Events, which +will be narrated in their place, confirmed this revelation; but it +went no further than the little world of men of business known to the +landlord. + +So Madame Willemsens was a continual mystery to people of condition. +Hers was no ordinary nature; her manners were simple and delightfully +natural, the tones of her voice were divinely sweet,--this was all +that she suffered others to discover. In her complete seclusion, her +sadness, her beauty so passionately obscured, nay, almost blighted, +there was so much to charm, that several young gentlemen fell in love; +but the more sincere the lover, the more timid he became; and besides, +the lady inspired awe, and it was a difficult matter to find enough +courage to speak to her. Finally, if a few of the bolder sort wrote to +her, their letters must have been burned unread. It was Mme. +Willemsens' practice to throw all the letters which she received into +the fire, as if she meant that the time spent in Touraine should be +untroubled by any outside cares even of the slightest. She might have +come to the enchanting retreat to give herself up wholly to the joy of +living. + +The three masters whose presence was allowed at La Grenadiere spoke +with something like admiring reverence of the touching picture that +they saw there of the close, unclouded intimacy of the life led by +this woman and the children. + +The two little boys also aroused no small interest. Mothers could not +see them without a feeling of envy. Both children were like Mme. +Willemsens, who was, in fact, their mother. They had the transparent +complexion and bright color, the clear, liquid eyes, the long lashes, +the fresh outlines, the dazzling characteristics of childish beauty. + +The elder, Louis-Gaston, had dark hair and fearless eyes. Everything +about him spoke as plainly of robust, physical health as his broad, +high brow, with its gracious curves, spoke of energy of character. He +was quick and alert in his movements, and strong of limb, without a +trace of awkwardness. Nothing took him unawares, and he seemed to +think about everything that he saw. + +Marie-Gaston, the other child, had hair that was almost golden, though +a lock here and there had deepened to the mother's chestnut tint. +Marie-Gaston was slender; he had the delicate features and the subtle +grace so charming in Mme. Willemsens. He did not look strong. There +was a gentle look in his gray eyes; his face was pale, there was +something feminine about the child. He still wore his hair in long, +wavy curls, and his mother would not have him give up embroidered +collars, and little jackets fastened with frogs and spindle-shaped +buttons; evidently she took a thoroughly feminine pleasure in the +costume, a source of as much interest to the mother as to the child. +The elder boy's plain white collar, turned down over a closely fitting +jacket, made a contrast with his brother's clothing, but the color and +material were the same; the two brothers were otherwise dressed alike, +and looked alike. + +No one could see them without feeling touched by the way in which +Louis took care of Marie. There was an almost fatherly look in the +older boy's eyes; and Marie, child though he was, seemed to be full of +gratitude to Louis. They were like two buds, scarcely separated from +the stem that bore them, swayed by the same breeze, lying in the same +ray of sunlight; but the one was a brightly colored flower, the other +somewhat bleached and pale. At a glance, a word, an inflection in +their mother's voice, they grew heedful, turned to look at her and +listened, and did at once what they were bidden, or asked, or +recommended to do. Mme. Willemsens had so accustomed them to +understand her wishes and desires, that the three seemed to have their +thoughts in common. When they went for a walk, and the children, +absorbed in their play, ran away to gather a flower or to look at some +insect, she watched them with such deep tenderness in her eyes, that +the most indifferent passer-by would feel moved, and stop and smile at +the children, and give the mother a glance of friendly greeting. Who +would not have admired the dainty neatness of their dress, their +sweet, childish voices, the grace of their movements, the promise in +their faces, the innate something that told of careful training from +the cradle? They seemed as if they had never shed tears nor wailed +like other children. Their mother knew, as it were, by electrically +swift intuition, the desires and the pains which she anticipated and +relieved. She seemed to dread a complaint from one of them more than +the loss of her soul. Everything in her children did honor to their +mother's training. Their threefold life, seemingly one life, called up +vague, fond thoughts; it was like a vision of the dreamed-of bliss of +a better world. And the three, so attuned to each other, lived in +truth such a life as one might picture for them at first sight--the +ordered, simple, and regular life best suited for a child's education. + +Both children rose an hour after daybreak and repeated a short prayer, +a habit learned in their babyhood. For seven years the sincere +petition had been put up every morning on their mother's bed, and +begun and ended by a kiss. Then the two brothers went through their +morning toilet as scrupulously as any pretty woman; doubtless they had +been trained in habits of minute attention to the person, so necessary +to health of body and mind, habits in some sort conducive to a sense +of wellbeing. Conscientiously they went through their duties, so +afraid were they lest their mother should say when she kissed them at +breakfast-time, "My darling children, where can you have been to have +such black finger-nails already?" Then the two went out into the +garden and shook off the dreams of the night in the morning air and +dew, until sweeping and dusting operations were completed, and they +could learn their lessons in the sitting-room until their mother +joined them. But although it was understood that they must not go to +their mother's room before a certain hour, they peeped in at the door +continually; and these morning inroads, made in defiance of the +original compact, were delicious moments for all three. Marie sprang +upon the bed to put his arms around his idolized mother, and Louis, +kneeling by the pillow, took her hand in his. Then came inquiries, +anxious as a lover's, followed by angelic laughter, passionate +childish kisses, eloquent silences, lisping words, and the little +ones' stories interrupted and resumed by a kiss, stories seldom +finished, though the listener's interest never failed. + +"Have you been industrious?" their mother would ask, but in tones so +sweet and so kindly that she seemed ready to pity laziness as a +misfortune, and to glance through tears at the child who was satisfied +with himself. + +She knew that the thought of pleasing her put energy into the +children's work; and they knew that their mother lived for them, and +that all her thoughts and her time were given to them. A wonderful +instinct, neither selfishness nor reason, perhaps the first innocent +beginnings of sentiment teaches children to know whether or not they +are the first and sole thought, to find out those who love to think of +them and for them. If you really love children, the dear little ones, +with open hearts and unerring sense of justice, are marvelously ready +to respond to love. Their love knows passion and jealousy and the most +gracious delicacy of feeling; they find the tenderest words of +expression; they trust you--put an entire belief in you. Perhaps there +are no undutiful children without undutiful mothers, for a child's +affection is always in proportion to the affection that it receives-- +in early care, in the first words that it hears, in the response of +the eyes to which a child first looks for love and life. All these +things draw them closer to the mother or drive them apart. God lays +the child under the mother's heart, that she may learn that for a long +time to come her heart must be its home. And yet--there are mothers +cruelly slighted, mothers whose sublime, pathetic tenderness meets +only a harsh return, a hideous ingratitude which shows how difficult +it is to lay down hard-and-fast rules in matters of feeling. + +Here, not one of all the thousand heart ties that bind child and +mother had been broken. The three were alone in the world; they lived +one life, a life of close sympathy. If Mme. Willemsens was silent in +the morning, Louis and Marie would not speak, respecting everything in +her, even those thoughts which they did not share. But the older boy, +with a precocious power of thought, would not rest satisfied with his +mother's assertion that she was perfectly well. He scanned her face +with uneasy forebodings; the exact danger he did not know, but dimly +he felt it threatening in those purple rings about her eyes, in the +deepening hollows under them, and the feverish red that deepened in +her face. If Marie's play began to tire her, his sensitive tact was +quick to discover this, and he would call to his brother: + +"Come, Marie! let us run in to breakfast, I am hungry!" + +But when they reached the door, he would look back to catch the +expression on his mother's face. She still could find a smile for him, +nay, often there were tears in her eyes when some little thing +revealed her child's exquisite feeling, a too early comprehension of +sorrow. + +Mme. Willemsens dressed during the children's early breakfast and game +of play; she was coquettish for her darlings; she wished to be +pleasing in their eyes; for them she would fain be in all things +lovely, a gracious vision, with the charm of some sweet perfume of +which one can never have enough. + +She was always dressed in time to hear their lessons, which lasted +from ten till three, with an interval at noon for lunch, the three +taking the meal together in the summer-house. After lunch the children +played for an hour, while she--poor woman and happy mother--lay on a +long sofa in the summer-house, so placed that she could look out over +the soft, ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to +see afresh in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and +sky and the time of year. + +The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the +terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they; +investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all +questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and +the summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country, +everything amuses them. + +Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She never +spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed +attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the +words to gain a general idea of Louis' progress. If Louis asked a +question that puzzled his master, his mother's eyes suddenly lighted +up, and she would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of +Marie she asked little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already +she treated him, as it were, respectfully, using all a woman's, all a +mother's tact to arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to +teach him to think of himself as capable of great things. She did this +with a secret purpose, which Louis was to understand in the future; +nay, he understood it already. + +Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master, +and asked strict account of Louis' progress. So kindly and so winning +was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where +Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came +dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned +till bedtime. + +So their days went. It was a uniform but full life; work and +amusements left them not a dull hour in the day. Discouragement and +quarreling were impossible. The mother's boundless love made +everything smooth. She taught her little sons moderation by refusing +them nothing, and submission by making them see underlying Necessity +in its many forms; she put heart into them with timely praise; +developing and strengthening all that was best in their natures with +the care of a good fairy. Tears sometimes rose to her burning eyes as +she watched them play, and thought how they had never caused her the +slightest vexation. Happiness so far-reaching and complete brings such +tears, because for us it represents the dim imaginings of Heaven which +we all of us form in our minds. + +Those were delicious hours spent on that sofa in the garden-house, in +looking out on sunny days over the wide stretches of river and the +picturesque landscape, listening to the sound of her children's voices +as they laughed at their own laughter, to the little quarrels that +told most plainly of their union of heart, of Louis' paternal care of +Marie, of the love that both of them felt for her. They spoke English +and French equally well (they had had an English nurse since their +babyhood), so their mother talked to them in both languages; directing +the bent of their childish minds with admirable skill, admitting no +fallacious reasoning, no bad principle. She ruled by kindness, +concealing nothing, explaining everything. If Louis wished for books, +she was careful to give him interesting yet accurate books--books of +biography, the lives of great seamen, great captains, and famous men, +for little incidents in their history gave her numberless +opportunities of explaining the world and life to her children. She +would point out the ways in which men, really great in themselves, had +risen from obscurity; how they had started from the lowest ranks of +society, with no one to look to but themselves, and achieved noble +destinies. + +These readings, and they were not the least useful of Louis' lessons, +took place while little Marie slept on his mother's knee in the quiet +of the summer night, and the Loire reflected the sky; but when they +ended, this adorable woman's sadness always seemed to be doubled; she +would cease to speak, and sit motionless and pensive, and her eyes +would fill with tears. + +"Mother, why are you crying?" Louis asked one balmy June evening, just +as the twilight of a soft-lit night succeeded to a hot day. + +Deeply moved by his trouble, she put her arm about the child's neck +and drew him to her. + +"Because, my boy, the lot of Jameray Duval, the poor and friendless +lad who succeeded at last, will be your lot, yours and your brother's, +and I have brought it upon you. Before very long, dear child, you will +be alone in the world, with no one to help or befriend you. While you +are still children, I shall leave you, and yet, if only I could wait +till you are big enough and know enough to be Marie's guardian! But I +shall not live so long. I love you so much that it makes me very +unhappy to think of it. Dear children, if only you do not curse me +some day!----" + +"But why should I curse you some day, mother?" + +"Some day," she said, kissing him on the forehead, "you will find out +that I have wronged you. I am going to leave you, here, without money, +without"--and she hesitated--"without a father," she added, and at the +word she burst into tears and put the boy from her gently. A sort of +intuition told Louis that his mother wished to be alone, and he +carried off Marie, now half awake. An hour later, when his brother was +in bed, he stole down and out to the summer-house where his mother was +sitting. + +"Louis! come here." + +The words were spoken in tones delicious to his heart. The boy sprang +to his mother's arms, and the two held each other in an almost +convulsive embrace. + +"Cherie," he said at last, the name by which he often called her, +finding that even loving words were too weak to express his feeling, +"cherie, why are you afraid that you are going to die?" + +"I am ill, my poor darling; every day I am losing strength, and there +is no cure for my illness; I know that." + +"What is the matter with you?" + +"Something that I ought to forget; something that you must never know. +--You must not know what caused my death." + +The boy was silent for a while. He stole a glance now and again at his +mother; and she, with her eyes raised to the sky, was watching the +clouds. It was a sad, sweet moment. Louis could not believe that his +mother would die soon, but instinctively he felt trouble which he +could not guess. He respected her long musings. If he had been rather +older, he would have read happy memories blended with thoughts of +repentance, the whole story of a woman's life in that sublime face-- +the careless childhood, the loveless marriage, a terrible passion, +flowers springing up in storm and struck down by the thunderbolt into +an abyss from which there is no return. + +"Darling mother," Louis said at last, "why do you hide your pain from +me?" + +"My boy, we ought to hide our troubles from strangers," she said; "we +should show them a smiling face, never speak of ourselves to them, nor +think about ourselves; and these rules, put in practice in family +life, conduce to its happiness. You will have much to bear one day! Ah +me! then think of your poor mother who died smiling before your eyes, +hiding her sufferings from you, and you will take courage to endure +the ills of life." + +She choked back her tears, and tried to make the boy understand the +mechanism of existence, the value of money, the standing and +consideration that it gives, and its bearing on social position; the +honorable means of gaining a livelihood, and the necessity of a +training. Then she told him that one of the chief causes of her +sadness and her tears was the thought that, on the morrow of her +death, he and Marie would be left almost resourceless, with but a +slender stock of money, and no friend but God. + +"How quick I must be about learning!" cried Louis, giving her a +piteous, searching look. + +"Oh! how happy I am!" she said, showering kisses and tears on her son. +"He understands me!--Louis," she went on, "you will be your brother's +guardian, will you not? You promise me that? You are no longer a +child!" + +"Yes, I promise," he said; "but you are not going to die yet--say that +you are not going to die!" + +"Poor little ones!" she replied, "love for you keeps the life in me. +And this country is so sunny, the air is so bracing, perhaps----" + +"You make me love Touraine more than ever," said the child. + +From that day, when Mme. Willemsens, foreseeing the approach of death, +spoke to Louis of his future, he concentrated his attention on his +work, grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than +heretofore. When he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up +boisterous games, there was less noise in the hollow pathways and +gardens and terraced walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives +to their mother's melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and +wan, there were hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead +grew deeper night after night. + +August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere, +and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and +gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow +decline in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an +impassioned soul and intense love of her children. Old Annette seemed +to see that death was very near. That mistress, beautiful still, was +more careful of her appearance than she had ever been; she was at +pains to adorn her wasted self, and wore paint on her cheeks; but +often while she walked on the upper terrace with the children, +Annette's wrinkled face would peer out from between the savin trees by +the pump. The old woman would forget her work, and stand with wet +linen in her hands, scarce able to keep back her tears at the sight of +Mme. Willemsens, so little like the enchanting woman she once had +been. + +The pretty house itself, once so gay and bright, looked melancholy; it +was a very quiet house now, and the family seldom left it, for the +walk to the bridge was too great an effort for Mme. Willemsens. Louis +had almost identified himself, as it were, with his mother, and with +his suddenly developed powers of imagination he saw the weariness and +exhaustion under the red color, and constantly found reasons for +taking some shorter walk. + +So happy couples coming to Saint-Cyr, then the Petite Courtille of +Tours, and knots of folk out for their evening walk along the "dike," +saw a pale, thin figure dressed in black, a woman with a worn yet +bright face, gliding like a shadow along the terraces. Great suffering +cannot be concealed. The vinedresser's household had grown quiet also. +Sometimes the laborer and his wife and children were gathered about +the door of their cottage, while Annette was washing linen at the +well-head, and Mme. Willemsens and the children sat in the summer- +house, and there was not the faintest sound in those gardens gay with +flowers. Unknown to Mme. Willemsens, all eyes grew pitiful at the +sight of her, she was so good, so thoughtful, so dignified with those +with whom she came in contact. + +And as for her.--When the autumn days came on, days so sunny and +bright in Touraine, bringing with them grapes and ripe fruits and +healthful influences which must surely prolong life in spite of the +ravages of mysterious disease--she saw no one but her children, taking +the utmost that the hour could give her, as if each hour had been her +last. + +Louis had worked at night, unknown to his mother, and made immense +progress between June and September. In algebra he had come as far as +equations with two unknown quantities; he had studied descriptive +geometry, and drew admirably well; in fact, he was prepared to pass +the entrance examination of the Ecole polytechnique. + +Sometimes of an evening he went down to the bridge of Tours. There was +a lieutenant there on half-pay, an Imperial naval officer, whose manly +face, medal, and gait had made an impression on the boy's imagination, +and the officer on his side had taken a liking to the lad, whose eyes +sparkled with energy. Louis, hungering for tales of adventure, and +eager for information, used to follow in the lieutenant's wake for the +chance of a chat with him. It so happened that the sailor had a friend +and comrade in the colonel of a regiment of infantry, struck off the +rolls like himself; and young Louis-Gaston had a chance of learning +what life was like in camp or on board a man-of-war. Of course, he +plied the veterans with questions; and when he had made up his mind to +the hardships of their rough callings, he asked his mother's leave to +take country walks by way of amusement. Mme. Willemsens was beyond +measure glad that he should ask; the boy's astonished masters had told +her that he was overworking himself. So Louis went for long walks. He +tried to inure himself to fatigue, climbed the tallest trees with +incredible quickness, learned to swim, watched through the night. He +was not like the same boy; he was a young man already, with a +sunburned face, and a something in his expression that told of deep +purpose. + +When October came, Mme. Willemsens could only rise at noon. The +sunshine, reflected by the surface of the Loire, and stored up by the +rocks, raised the temperature of the air till it was almost as warm +and soft as the atmosphere of the Bay of Naples, for which reason the +faculty recommend the place of abode. At mid-day she came out to sit +under the shade of green leaves with the two boys, who never wandered +from her now. Lessons had come to an end. Mother and children wished +to live the life of heart and heart together, with no disturbing +element, no outside cares. No tears now, no joyous outcries. The elder +boy, lying in the grass at his mother's side, basked in her eyes like +a lover and kissed her feet. Marie, the restless one, gathered flowers +for her, and brought them with a subdued look, standing on tiptoe to +put a girlish kiss on her lips. And the pale woman, with the great +tired eyes and languid movements, never uttered a word of complaint, +and smiled upon her children, so full of life and health--it was a +sublime picture, lacking no melancholy autumn pomp of yellow leaves +and half-despoiled branches, nor the softened sunlight and pale clouds +of the skies of Touraine. + +At last the doctor forbade Mme. Willemsens to leave her room. Every +day it was brightened by the flowers that she loved, and her children +were always with her. One day, early in November, she sat at the piano +for the last time. A picture--a Swiss landscape--hung above the +instrument; and at the window she could see her children standing with +their heads close together. Again and again she looked from the +children to the landscape, and then again at the children. Her face +flushed, her fingers flew with passionate feeling over the ivory keys. +This was her last great day, an unmarked day of festival, held in her +own soul by the spirit of her memories. When the doctor came, he +ordered her to stay in bed. The alarming dictum was received with +bewildered silence. + +When the doctor had gone, she turned to the older boy. + +"Louis," she said, "take me out on the terrace, so that I may see my +country once more." + +The boy gave his arm at those simply uttered words, and brought his +mother out upon the terrace; but her eyes turned, perhaps +unconsciously, to heaven rather than to the earth, and indeed, it +would have been hard to say whether heaven or earth was the fairer-- +for the clouds traced shadowy outlines, like the grandest Alpine +glaciers, against the sky. Mme. Willemsens' brows contracted +vehemently; there was a look of anguish and remorse in her eyes. She +caught the children's hands, and clutched them to a heavily-throbbing +heart. + +" 'Parentage unknown!' " she cried, with a look that went to their +hearts. "Poor angels, what will become of you? And when you are twenty +years old, what strict account may you not require of my life and your +own?" + +She put the children from her, and leaning her arms upon the +balustrade, stood for a while hiding her face, alone with herself, +fearful of all eyes. When she recovered from the paroxysm, she saw +Louis and Marie kneeling on either side of her, like two angels; they +watched the expression of her face, and smiled lovingly at her. + +"If only I could take that smile with me!" she said, drying her eyes. + +Then she went into the house and took to the bed, which she would only +leave for her coffin. + +A week went by, one day exactly like another. Old Annette and Louis +took it in turns to sit up with Mme. Willemsens, never taking their +eyes from the invalid. It was the deeply tragical hour that comes in +all our lives, the hour of listening in terror to every deep breath +lest it should be the last, a dark hour protracted over many days. On +the fifth day of that fatal week the doctor interdicted flowers in the +room. The illusions of life were going one by one. + +Then Marie and his brother felt their mother's lips hot as fire +beneath their kisses; and at last, on the Saturday evening, Mme. +Willemsens was too ill to bear the slightest sound, and her room was +left in disorder. This neglect for a woman of refined taste, who clung +so persistently to the graces of life, meant the beginning of the +death-agony. After this, Louis refused to leave his mother. On Sunday +night, in the midst of the deepest silence, when Louis thought that +she had grown drowsy, he saw a white, moist hand move the curtain in +the lamplight. + +"My son!" she said. There was something so solemn in the dying woman's +tones, that the power of her wrought-up soul produced a violent +reaction on the boy; he felt an intense heat pass through the marrow +of his bones. + +"What is it, mother?" + +"Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no +more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make +some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take +the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will +find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one, +and on the other MARIE." + +"Here they are, mother." + +"Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them. +Give them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them +when you need them. Now," she continued, "is there not another paper +as well, something in my handwriting?" + +"Yes, mother," and Louis began to read, "MARIE WILLEMSENS, BORN +AT----" + +"That is enough," she broke in quickly, "do not go on. When I am dead, +give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the +registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death +is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter +which I will dictate to you." + +When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for +the words, they came from her quietly:-- + +"Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near +Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you." + +"Sign yourself----" she stopped, hesitating and perturbed. + +"Are you feeling worse?" asked Louis. + +"Put 'Louis-Gaston,' " she went on. + +She sighed, then she went on. + +"Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde +Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the +letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now," she added, after a +pause, "take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my +dear child. . . . There are twelve thousand francs in it," she said, +when Louis had returned to her side. "That is all your own. Oh me! you +would have been better off if your father----" + +"My father," cried the boy, "where is he?" + +"He is dead," she said, laying her finger on her lips; "he died to +save my honor and my life." + +She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have +wept for pain. + +"Louis," she continued, "swear to me, as I lie here, that you will +forget all that you have written, all that I have told you." + +"Yes, mother." + +"Kiss me, dear angel." + +She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength +from God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in +her. + +"Listen," she began. "Those twelve thousand francs are all that you +have in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am +dead the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be +yours then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will +be to go out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made +Annette's future secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, +and she will stay at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself +and your brother?" + +She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her +bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale +with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears. + +"I have thought it over, mother," he answered in a deep voice. "I will +take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand +francs to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to +look after Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will +go to Brest, and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, +I will rise to be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after +all, die in peace, my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and +our little one shall go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a +career to suit his bent." + +A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman's eyes. Two tears brimmed +over, and fell over her fevered cheeks; then a deep sigh escaped +between her lips. The sudden joy of finding the father's spirit in the +son, who had grown all at once to be a man, almost killed her. + +"Angel of heaven," she cried, weeping, "by one word you have effaced +all my sorrows. Ah! I can bear them.--This is my son," she said, "I +bore, I reared this man," and she raised her hands above her, and +clasped them as if in ecstasy, then she lay back on the pillow. + +"Mother, your face is growing pale!" cried the lad. + +"Some one must go for a priest," she answered, with a dying voice. + +Louis wakened Annette, and the terrified old woman hurried to the +parsonage at Saint-Cyr. + +When morning came, Mme. Willemsens received the sacrament amid the +most touching surroundings. Her children were kneeling in the room, +with Annette and the vinedresser's family, simple folk, who had +already become part of the household. The silver crucifix, carried by +a chorister, a peasant child from the village, was lifted up, and the +dying mother received the Viaticum from an aged priest. The Viaticum! +sublime word, containing an idea yet more sublime, an idea only +possessed by the apostolic religion of the Roman church. + +"This woman has suffered greatly!" the old cure said in his simple +way. + +Marie Willemsens heard no voices now, but her eyes were still fixed +upon her children. Those about her listened in terror to her breathing +in the deep silence; already it came more slowly, though at intervals +a deep sigh told them that she still lived, and of a struggle within +her; then at last it ceased. Every one burst into tears except Marie. +He, poor child, was still too young to know what death meant. + +Annette and the vinedresser's wife closed the eyes of the adorable +woman, whose beauty shone out in all its radiance after death. Then +the women took possession of the chamber of death, removed the +furniture, wrapped the dead in her winding-sheet, and laid her upon +the couch. They lit tapers about her, and arranged everything--the +crucifix, the sprigs of box, and the holy-water stoup--after the +custom of the countryside, bolting the shutters and drawing the +curtains. Later the curate came to pass the night in prayer with +Louis, who refused to leave his mother. On Tuesday morning an old +woman and two children and a vinedresser's wife followed the dead to +her grave. These were the only mourners. Yet this was a woman whose +wit and beauty and charm had won a European reputation, a woman whose +funeral, if it had taken place in London, would have been recorded in +pompous newspaper paragraphs, as a sort of aristocratic rite, if she +had not committed the sweetest of crimes, a crime always expiated in +this world, so that the pardoned spirit may enter heaven. Marie cried +when they threw the earth on his mother's coffin; he understood that +he should see her no more. + +A simple, wooden cross, set up to mark her grave, bore this +inscription, due to the cure of Saint-Cyr:-- + + HERE LIES + AN UNHAPPY WOMAN, + WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-SIX. +KNOWN IN HEAVEN BY THE NAME OF AUGUSTA. + Pray for her! + +When all was over, the children came back to La Grenadiere to take a +last look at their home; then, hand in hand, they turned to go with +Annette, leaving the vinedresser in charge, with directions to hand +over everything duly to the proper authorities. + +At this moment, Annette called to Louis from the steps by the kitchen +door, and took him aside with, "Here is madame's ring, Monsieur +Louis." + +The sight of this vivid remembrance of his dead mother moved him so +deeply that he wept. In his fortitude, he had not even thought of this +supreme piety; and he flung his arms round the old woman's neck. Then +the three set out down the beaten path, and the stone staircase, and +so to Tours, without turning their heads. + +"Mamma used to come there!" Marie said when they reached the bridge. + +Annette had a relative, a retired dressmaker, who lived in the Rue de +la Guerche. She took the two children to this cousin's house, meaning +that they should live together thenceforth. But Louis told her of his +plans, gave Marie's certificate of birth and the ten thousand francs +into her keeping, and the two went the next morning to take Marie to +school. + +Louis very briefly explained his position to the headmaster, and went. +Marie came with him as far as the gateway. There Louis gave solemn +parting words of the tenderest counsel, telling Marie that he would +now be left alone in the world. He looked at his brother for a moment, +and put his arms about him, took one more long look, brushed a tear +from his eyes, and went, turning again and again till the very last to +see his brother standing there in the gateway of the school. + + + +A month later Louis-Gaston, now an apprentice on board a man-of-war, +left the harbor of Rochefort. Leaning over the bulwarks of the +corvette Iris, he watched the coast of France receding swiftly till it +became indistinguishable from the faint blue horizon line. In a little +while he felt that he was really alone, and lost in the wide ocean, +lost and alone in the world and in life. + +"There is no need to cry, lad; there is a God for us all," said an old +sailor, with rough kindliness in his thick voice. + +The boy thanked him with pride in his eyes. Then he bowed his head, +and resigned himself to a sailor's life. He was a father. + + + +ANGOULEME, August, 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Brandon, Lady Marie Augusta + The Member for Arcis + The Lily of the Valley + La Grenadiere + +Gaston, Louis + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + +Gaston, Marie + La Grenadiere + Letters of Two Brides + The Member for Arcis + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of La Grenadiere, by Honore de Balzac + diff --git a/old/old/grndr10.zip b/old/old/grndr10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ca9774 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/grndr10.zip |