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diff --git a/3956.txt b/3956.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..acfec52 --- /dev/null +++ b/3956.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2197 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of L'Abbe Constantin by Ludovic Halevy, v3 +#43 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy +#3 in our series by Ludovic Halevy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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I saw them +myself in the morning; the little one was driving four ponies, and with +an amount of audacity! I bowed to them; did they mention me? Did they +recognize me? When will you take me to Longueval? Answer me." + +"Answer? Yes. But which question first?" + +"The last." + +"When shall I take you to Longueval?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, in ten days; they don't want to see any one just now." + +"Then you are not going back to Longueval for ten days?" + +"Oh, I shall go back to-day at four o'clock. But I don't count, you +know. Jean Reynaud, the Cure's godson. That is why I have penetrated so +easily into the confidence of these two charming women. I have presented +myself under the patronage and with the guarantee of the Church. +And then they have discovered that I could render them little services. +I know the country very well, and they will make use of me as a guide. +In a word, I am nobody; while you, Count Paul de Lavardens, you are +somebody; so fear nothing, your turn will come with the fetes and balls. +Then you will be resplendent in all your glory, and I shall return very +humbly into my obscurity." + +"You may laugh at me as much as you like; it is none the less true that +during those ten days you will steal a march upon me--upon me!" + +"How upon you?" + +"Now, Jean, do you want to make me believe that you are not already in +love with one of these two women? Is it possible? So much beauty, so +much luxury. Luxury to that degree upsets me. Those black ponies with +their white rosettes! I dreamed of them last night, and that little- +Bettina, is it not?" + +"Yes, Bettina." + +"Bettina--Countess Bettina de Lavardens! Doesn't that sound well enough! +and what a perfect husband she would have in me! To be the husband of a +woman possessing boundless wealth, that is my destiny. It is not so easy +as one may suppose. I have already run through something, and--if my +mother had not stopped me! but I am quite ready to begin again. Oh, how +happy that girl would be with me! I would create around her the +existence of a fairy queen. In all her luxury she would feel the taste, +the art, and the skill of her husband. I would pass my life in adoring +her, in displaying her beauty, in petting her, in bearing her triumphant +through the world. I would study her beauty in order to give it the +frame that best suited it. 'If he were not there,' she would say, 'I +should not be so beautiful, so dazzling.' I should know not only how to +love her, but how to amuse her. She would have something for her money, +she would have love and pleasure. Come, Jean, do a good action, take me +to Mrs. Scott's to-day." + +"I cannot, I assure you." + +"Well, then, in ten days; but I give you fair notice, I shall install +myself at Longueval, and shall not move. In the first place it would +please my mother; she is still a little prejudiced against the Americans. +She says that she shall arrange not to see them, but I know my mother. +Some day, when I shall go home in the evening and tell her: 'Mother, I +have won the-heart of a charming little person who is burdened with a +capital of twenty millions--they exaggerate when they talk of hundreds of +millions. You know these are the correct figures, and they are enough +for me. That evening, then, my mother will be delighted, because, in her +heart, what is it she desires for me? What all good mothers desire for +their sons--a good marriage, or a discreet liaison with some one in +society. At Longueval I find these two essentials, and I will +accommodate myself very willingly to either. You will have the kindness +to warn me in ten days--you will let me know which of the two you abandon +to me, Mrs. Scott or Miss Percival?" + +"You are mad, you are quite mad! I do not, I never shall think--" + +"Listen, Jean. You are wisdom personified; you may say and do as you +like, but remember what I say to you, Jean, you will fall in love in that +house." + +"I do not believe it," replied Jean, laughing. + +"But I am absolutely sure of it. Good-by. I leave you to your duties." + +That morning Jean was perfectly sincere. He had slept very well the +previous night; the second interview with the two sisters had, as if by +enchantment, dissipated the slight trouble which had agitated his soul +after the first meeting. He prepared to meet them again with much +pleasure, but also with much tranquillity; there was too much money in +that house to permit the love of a poor devil like Jean to find place +honestly there. + +Friendship was another affair; with all his heart he wished, and with all +his strength he sought, to establish himself peacefully in the esteem and +regard of the sisters. He would try not to remark too much the beauty of +Susie and Bettina; he would try not to forget himself as he had done the +previous evening, in the contemplation of the four little feet resting on +their footstools. They had said, very frankly, very cordially, to him: +"You shall be our friend." That was all he desired--to be their friend-- +and that he would be. + +During the ten days that followed, all conduced to the success of this +enterprise. Susie, Bettina, the Cure, and Jean led the same life in the +closest and most cordial intimacy. + +Jean did not seek to analyze his feelings. He felt for these two women +an equal affection; he was perfectly happy, perfectly tranquil. Then he +was not in love, for love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the +same heart. + +Jean, however, saw approach, with a little anxiety and sadness, the day +which would bring to Longueval the Turners, and the Nortons, and the +whole force of the American colony. The day came too soon. + +On Friday, the 24th of June, at four o'clock, Jean arrived at the castle. +Bettina received him alone, looking quite vexed. + +"How annoying it is," said she, "my sister is not well; a little +headache, nothing of consequence, it will be gone by tomorrow; but I dare +not ride with you alone. In America I might; but here, it would not do, +would it?" + +"Certainly not," replied Jean. + +"I must send you back, and I am so sorry." + +"And so am I--I am very sorry to be obliged to go, and to lose this last +day, which I had hoped to pass with you. However, since it must be, I +will come tomorrow to inquire after your sister." + +"She will see you herself, to-morrow; I repeat it is nothing serious. +But do not run away in such a hurry, pray; will you not spare me a little +quarter of an hour's conversation? I want to speak to you; sit down +there, and now listen to me well. My sister and I had intended this +evening, after dinner, to blockade you into a little corner of the +drawing-room, and then she meant to tell you what I am going to try to +say for us both." + +"But I am a little nervous. Do not laugh; it is a very serious matter. +We wish to thank you for having been, ever since our arrival here, so +good to us both." + +"Oh, Miss Percival, pray, it is I who--" + +"Oh, do not interrupt me, you will quite confuse me. I do not know how +to get through with it. I maintain, besides, that the thanks are due +from us, not from you. We arrived here two strangers. We have been +fortunate enough immediately to find friends. Yes, friends. You have +taken us by the hand, you have led us to our farmers, to our keepers; +while your godfather took us to his poor--and everywhere you were so much +beloved that from their confidence in you, they began, on your +recommendation, to like us a little. You are adored about here; do you +know that?" + +"I was born here--all these good people have known me from my infancy, +and are grateful to me for what my grandfather and father did for them; +and then I am of their race, the race of the peasants; my great- +grandfather was a laborer at Bargecourt, a village two miles from here." + +"Oh! oh! you appear very proud of that!" + +"Neither proud nor ashamed." + +"I beg your pardon, you made a little movement of pride. Well, I can +tell you that my mother's great-grandfather was a farmer in Brittany. +He went to Canada at the end of the last century, when Canada was still +French. And you love very much this place where you were born?" + +"Very much. Perhaps I shall soon be obliged to leave it." + +"Why?" + +"When I get promotion, I shall have to exchange into another regiment, +and I shall wander from garrison to garrison; but certainly, when I am an +old commandant or old colonel, on half-pay, I shall come back, and live +and die here, in the little house that was my father's." + +"Always quite alone?" + +"Why quite alone? I certainly hope not." + +"You intend to marry?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"You are trying to marry?" + +"No; one may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry." + +"And yet there are people who do try. Come, I can answer for that, and +you even; people have wished to marry you." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Oh! I know all your little affairs so well; you are what they call a +good match, and I repeat it, they have wished to marry you." + +"Who told you that?" + +"Monsieur le Cure." + +"Then he was very wrong," said Jean, with a certain sharpness. + +"No, no, he was not wrong. If any one has been to blame it is I. I soon +discovered that your godfather was never so happy as when he was speaking +of you. So when I was alone with him during our walks, to please him I +talked of you, and he related your history to me. You are well off; you +are very well off; from Government you receive every month two hundred +and thirteen francs and some centimes; am I correct?" + +"Yes," said Jean, deciding to bear with a good grace his share in the +Cure's indiscretions. + +"You have eight thousand francs' income?" + +"Nearly, not quite." + +"Add to that your house, which is worth thirty thousand francs. You are +in an excellent position, and people have asked your hand." + +"Asked my hand! No, no." + +"They have, they have, twice, and you have refused two very good +marriages, two very good fortunes, if you prefer it--it is the same thing +for so many people. Two hundred thousand francs in the one, three +hundred thousand in the other case. It appears that these fortunes are +enormous for the country! Yet you have refused! Tell me why." + +"Well, it concerned two charming young girls." + +"That is understood. One always says that." + +"But whom I scarcely knew. They forced me--for I did resist--they forced +me to spend two or three evenings with them last winter." + +"And then?" + +"Then--I don't quite know how to explain it to you. I did not feel the +slightest touch of embarrassment, emotion, anxiety, or disturbance--" + +"In fact," said Bettina, resolutely, "not the least suspicion of love." + +"No, not the least, and I returned quite calmly to my bachelor den, for I +think it is better not to marry than to marry without love." + +"And I think so, too." + +She looked at him, he looked at her, and suddenly, to the great surprise +of both, they found nothing more to say, nothing at all. + +At this moment Harry and Bella rushed into the room, with cries of joy. + +"Monsieur Jean! Are you there? Come and see our ponies!" + +"Ah!" said Bettina, her voice a little uncertain, "Edwards has just come +back from Paris, and has brought two microscopic ponies for the children. +Let us go to see them, shall we?" + +They went to see the ponies, which were indeed worthy to figure in the +stables of the King of Lilliput. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ANOTHER MARTYR TO MILLIONS + +Three weeks have glided by; another day and Jean will be obliged to leave +with his regiment for the artillery practice. He will lead the life of a +soldier. Ten days' march on the highroad going and returning, and ten +days in the camp at Cercottes in the forest of Orleans. The regiment +will return to Souvigny on the 10th of August. + +Jean is no longer tranquil; Jean is no longer happy. He sees approach +with impatience, and at the same time with terror, the moment of his +departure. With impatience--for he suffers an absolute martyrdom, he +longs to escape from it; with terror--for to pass twenty days without +seeing her, without speaking to her, without her in a word--what will +become of him? Her! It is Bettina; he adores her! + +Since when? Since the first day, since that meeting in the month of May +in the Cure's garden. That is the truth; but Jean struggles against and +resists that truth. He believes that he has only loved Bettina since the +day when the two chatted gayly, amicably, in the little drawing-room. +She was sitting on the blue couch near the widow, and, while talking, +amused herself with repairing the disorder of the dress of a Japanese +princess, one of Bella's dolls, which she had left on a chair, and which +Bettina had mechanically taken up. + +Why had the fancy come to Miss Percival to talk to him of those two young +girls whom he might have married? The question of itself was not at all +embarrassing to him. He had replied that, if he had not then felt any +taste for marriage, it was because his interviews with these two girls +had not caused him any emotion or any agitation. He had smiled in +speaking thus, but a few minutes after he smiled no more. This emotion, +this agitation, he had suddenly learned to know them. Jean did not +deceive himself; he acknowledged the depth of the wound; it had +penetrated to his very heart's core. + +Jean, however, did not abandon himself to this emotion. He said to +himself: + +"Yes, it is serious, very serious, but I shall recover from it." + +He sought an excuse for his madness; he laid the blame on circumstances. +For ten days this delightful girl had been too much with him, too much +with him alone! How could he resist such a temptation? He was +intoxicated with her charm, with her grace and beauty. But the next day +a troop of visitors would arrive at Longueval, and there would be an end +of this dangerous intimacy. He would have courage; he would keep at a +distance; he would lose himself in the crowd, would see Bettina less +often and less familiarly. To see her no more was a thought he could not +support! He wished to remain Bettina's friend, since he could be nothing +but her friend; for there was another thought which scarcely entered the +mind of Jean. This thought did not appear extravagant to him; it +appeared monstrous. In the whole world there was not a more honorable +man than Jean, and he felt for Bettina's money horror, positively horror. + +From the 25th of June the crowd had been in possession of Longueval. +Mrs. Norton arrived with her son, Daniel Norton; and Mrs. Turner with her +son, Philip Turner. Both of them, the young Philip and the young Daniel, +formed a part of the famous brotherhood of the thirty-four. They were +old friends, Bettina had treated them as such, and had declared to them, +with perfect frankness, that they were losing their time. However, they +were not discouraged, and formed the centre of a little court which was +always very eager and assiduous around Bettina. + +Paul de Lavardens had made his appearance on this scene, and had very +rapidly become everybody's friend. He had received the brilliant and +complicated education of a young man destined for pleasure. As soon as +it was a question only of amusement, riding, croquet, lawn-tennis, polo, +dancing, charades, and theatricals, he was ready for everything. He +excelled in everything. His superiority was evident, unquestionable. +Paul became, in a short time, by general consent, the director and +organizer of the fetes at Longueval. + +Bettina had not a moment of hesitation. Jean introduced Paul de +Lavardens, and the latter had scarcely concluded the customary little +compliment when Miss Percival, leaning toward her sister, whispered in +her ear: + +"The thirty-fifth!" + +However, she received Paul very kindly, so kindly that for several days +he had the weakness to misunderstand her. He believed that it was his +personal graces which had obtained for him this very flattering and +cordial reception. It was a great mistake. Paul de Lavardens had been +introduced by Jean; he was the friend of Jean. In Bettina's eyes, +therein lay all his merit. + +Mrs. Scott's castle was open house; people were not invited for one +evening only, but for every evening, and Paul, with enthusiasm, came +every evening! His dream was at last realized; he had, found Paris at +Longueval. + +But Paul was neither blind nor a fool. No doubt he was, on Miss +Percival's part, the object of very particular attention and favor. +It pleased her to talk long, very long, alone with him. But what was the +eternal, the inexhaustible subject of their conversations? Jean, again +Jean, and always Jean! + +Paul was thoughtless, dissipated, frivolous, but he became in earnest +when Jean was in question; he knew how to appreciate him, he knew how to +love him. Nothing to him was sweeter, nothing was easier, than to say of +the friend of his childhood all the good that he thought of him, and as +he saw that Bettina listened with great pleasure, Paul gave free rein to +his eloquence. + +Only--and he was quite right--Paul wished one evening to reap the benefit +of his chivalrous conduct. He had just been talking for a quarter of an +hour with Bettina. The conversation finished, he went to look for Jean +at the other end of the drawing-room, and said to him: + +"You left the field open to me, and I have made a bold stroke for Miss +Percival." + +"Well, you have no reason to be discontented with the result of the +enterprise. You are the best friends in the world." + +"Yes, certainly, pretty well, but not quite satisfactory. There is +nothing more amiable or more charming than Miss Percival, and really it +is very good of me to acknowledge it; for, between ourselves, she makes +me play an ungrateful and ridiculous role, a role which is quite unsuited +to my age. I am, you will admit, of the lover's age, and not of that of +the confidant." + +"Of the confidant!" + +"Yes, my dear fellow, of the confidant! That is my occupation in this +house. You were looking at us just now. Oh, I have very good eyes; you +were looking at us. Well, do you know what we were talking about? Of +you, my dear fellow, of you, of you again, of nothing but you. And it is +the same thing every evening; there is no end to the questions: + +"'You were brought up together? You took lessons together from the Abbe +Constantin?' + +"'Will he soon be Captain? And then?' + +"'Commandant.' + +"'And then?' + +"'Colonel, etc., etc., etc.' + +"Ah! I can tell you, my friend Jean, if you liked, you might dream a +very delicious dream." + +Jean was annoyed, almost angry. Paul was much astonished at this sudden +attack of irritability. + +"What is the matter? Have I said anything--" + +"I beg your pardon; I was wrong. But how could you take such an absurd +idea into your head?" + +"Absurd! I don't see it. I have entertained the absurd idea on my own +account." + +"Ah! you--" + +"Why 'Ah! you?' If I have had it you may have it; you are better worth +it than I am." + +"Paul, I entreat you!" + +Jean's discomfort was evident. + +"We will not speak of it again; we will not speak of it again. What I +wanted to say, in short, is that Miss Percival perhaps thinks I am +agreeable; but as to considering me seriously, that little person will +never commit such a folly. I must fall back upon Mrs. Scott, but without +much confidence. You see, Jean, I shall amuse myself in this house, but +I shall make nothing out of it." + +Paul de Lavardens did fall back upon Mrs. Scott, but the next day was +surprised to stumble upon Jean, who had taken to placing himself very +regularly in Mrs. Scott's particular circle, for like Bettina she had +also her little court. But what Jean sought there was a protection, a +shelter, a refuge. + +The day of that memorable conversation on marriage without love, Bettina +had also, for the first time, felt suddenly awake in her that necessity +of loving which sleeps, but not very profoundly, in the hearts of all +young girls. The sensation had been the same, at the same moment, in the +soul of Bettina and the soul of Jean. He, terrified, had cast it +violently from him. She, on the contrary, had yielded, in all the +simplicity of her perfect innocence, to this flood of emotion and of +tenderness. + +She had waited for love. Could this be love? The man who was to be her +thought, her life, her soul--could this be he--this Jean? Why not? She +knew him better than she knew all those who, during the past year, had +haunted her for her fortune, and in what she knew of him there was +nothing to discourage the love of a good girl. Far from it! + +Both of them did well; both of them were in the way of duty and of truth +--she, in yielding; he, in resisting; she, in not thinking for a moment +of the obscurity of Jean; he, in recoiling before her mountain of wealth +as he would have recoiled before a crime; she, in thinking that she had +no right to parley with love; he, in thinking he had no right to parley +with honor. + +This is why, in proportion as Bettina showed herself more tender, and +abandoned herself with more frankness to the first call of love--this is +why Jean became, day by day, more gloomy and more restless. He was not +only afraid of loving; he was afraid of being loved. + +He ought to have remained away; he should not have come near her. He had +tried; he could not; the temptation was too strong; it carried him away; +so he came. She would come to him, her hands extended, a smile on her +lips, and her heart in her eyes. Everything in her said: + +"Let us try to love each other, and if we can love, we will!" + +Fear seized him. Those two hands which offered themselves to the +pressure of his hands, he hardly dared touch them. He tried to escape +those eyes which, tender and smiling, anxious and curious, tried to meet +his eyes. He trembled before the necessity of speaking to Bettina, +before the necessity of listening to her. + +It was then that Jean took refuge with Mrs. Scott, and it was then that +Mrs. Scott gathered those uncertain, agitated, troubled words which were +not addressed to her, and which she took for herself, nevertheless. It +would have been difficult not to be mistaken. + +For of these still vague and confused sentiments which agitated her, +Bettina had as yet said nothing. She guarded and caressed the secret of +her budding love, as a miser guards and caresses the first coins of his +treasure. The day when she should see clearly into her own heart; the +day that she should be sure that she loved--ah! she would speak that +day, and how happy she should be to tell all to Susie! + +Mrs. Scott had ended by attributing to herself this melancholy of Jean, +which, day by day, took a more marked character. She was flattered by +it--a woman is never displeased at thinking herself beloved--and vexed at +the same time. She held Jean in great esteem, in great affection; but +she was greatly distressed at the thought that if he were sad and +unhappy, it was because of her. + +Susie was, besides, conscious of her own innocence. With others she had +sometimes been coquettish, very coquettish. To torment them a little, +was that such a great crime? They had nothing to do, they were good-for- +nothing, it occupied them while it amused her. It helped them to pass +their time, and it helped her, too. But Susie had not to reproach +herself for having flirted with Jean. She recognized his merit and his +superiority; he was worth more than the others, he was a man to suffer +seriously, and that was what Mrs. Scott did not wish. Already, two or +three times, she had been on the point of speaking to him very seriously, +very affectionately, but she had reflected Jean was going away for three +weeks; on his return, if it were still necessary, she would read him a +lecture, and would act in such a manner that love should not come and +foolishly interfere in their friendship. + +So Jean was to go the next day. Bettina had insisted that he should +spend this last day at Longueval, and dine at the house. Jean had +refused, alleging that he had much to do the night before his departure. + +He arrived in the evening, about half-past ten; he came on foot. Several +times on the way he had been inclined to return. + +"If I had courage enough," he said to himself, "I would not see her +again. I shall leave to-morrow, and return no more to Souvigny while +she is there. My resolution is taken, and taken forever." + +But he continued his way, he would see her again--for the last time. + +As soon as he entered the drawing-room, Bettina hastened to him. + +"It is you at last! How late you are!" + +"I have been very busy." + +"And you are going to-morrow?" + +"Yes, to-morrow." + +"Early?" + +"At five in the morning." + +"You will go by the road which runs by the wall of the park, and goes +through the village?" + +"Yes, that is the way we shall go." + +"Why so early in the morning? I would have gone out on the terrace to +see you pass, and to wish you good-by." + +Bettina detained for a moment Jean's burning hand in hers. He drew it +mournfully away, with an effort. + +"I must go and speak to your sister," said he. + +"Directly, she has not seen you, there are a dozen persons round her. +Come and sit here a little while, near me." + +He was obliged to seat himself beside her. + +"We are going away, too," said she. + +"You!" + +"Yes. An hour ago, we received a telegram from my brother-in-law, which +has caused us great joy. We did not expect him for a month, but he is +coming back in a fortnight. He will embark the day after to-morrow at +New York, on board the Labrador. We are going to meet him at Havre. We +shall also start the day after to-morrow; we are going to take the +children, it will do them a great deal of good to spend a few days at the +seaside. How pleased my brother-in-law will be to know you--he knows you +already, we have spoken of you in all our letters. I am sure you and Mr. +Scott will get on extremely well together, he is so good. How long shall +you stay away?" + +"Three weeks." + +"Three weeks in a camp?" + +"Yes, Miss Percival, in the camp of Cercottes." + +"In the middle of the forest of Orleans. I made your godfather explain +all about it to me this morning. Of course I am delighted to go to meet +my brother-in-law; but at the same time, I am a little sorry to leave +here, for I should have gone every morning to pay a little visit to +Monsieur l'Abbe. He would have given me news of you. Perhaps, in about +ten days, you will write to my sister--a little note of three or four +lines--it will not take much of your time--just to tell her how you are, +and that you do not forget us." + +"Oh, as to forgetting you, as to losing the remembrance of your extreme +kindness, your goodness, never, Miss Percival, never!" + +His voice trembled, he was afraid of his own emotion, he rose. + +"I assure you, Miss Percival, I must go and speak to your sister. She is +looking at me. She must be astonished." + +He crossed the room, Bettina followed him with her eyes. + +Mrs. Norton had just placed herself at the piano to play a waltz for the +young people. + +Paul de Lavardens approached Miss Percival. + +"Will you do me the honor, Miss Percival?" + +"I believe I have just promised this dance to Monsieur Jean," she +replied. + +"Well, if not to him, will you give it to me?" + +"That is understood." + +Bettina walked toward Jean, who had seated himself near Mrs. Scott. + +"I have just told a dreadful story," said she. "Monsieur de Lavardens +has asked me for this dance, and I replied that I had promised it to you. +You would like it, wouldn't you?" + +To hold her in his arms, to breathe the perfume of her hair--Jean felt +his courage could not support this ordeal, he dared not accept. + +"I regret extremely I can not, I am not well tonight; I persisted in +coming because I would not leave without wishing you good-by, but dance, +no, it is impossible!" + +Mrs. Norton began the prelude of the waltz. + +"Well," said Paul, coming up quite joyful, "who is it to be, he or I?" + +"You," she said, sadly, without removing her eyes from Jean. + +She was much disturbed, and replied without knowing well what she said. +She immediately regretted having accepted, she would have liked to stay +there, near him. But it was too late, Paul took her hand and led her +away. + +Jean rose; he looked at the two, Bettina and Paul, a haze floated before +his eyes, he suffered cruelly. + +"There is only one thing I can do," thought he, "profit by this waltz, +and go. To-morrow I will write a few lines to Mrs. Scott to excuse +myself." + +He gained the door, he looked no more at Bettina; had he looked, he would +have stayed. + +But Bettina looked at him; and all at once she said to Paul: + +"Thank you very much, but I am a little tired, let us stop, please. You +will excuse me, will you not?" + +Paul offered his arm. + +"No, thank you," said she. + +The door was just closing, Jean was no longer there. Bettina ran across +the room. Paul remained alone, much surprised, understanding nothing of +what had passed. + +Jean was already at the hall-door, when he heard some one call--"Monsieur +Jean! Monsieur Jean!" + +He stopped and turned. She was near him. + +"You are going without wishing me good-by?" + +"I beg your pardon, I am very tired." + +"Then you must not walk home, the weather is threatening," she extended +her hand out-of-doors," it is raining already." + +"Come and have a cup of tea in the little drawing-room, and I will tell +them to drive you home," and turning toward one of the footmen, "tell +them to send a carriage round directly." + +"No, Miss Percival, pray, the open air will revive me. I must walk, let +me go." + +"Go, then, but you have no greatcoat, take something to wrap yourself +in." + +"I shall not be cold--while you with that open dress--I shall go to +oblige you to go in." And without even offering his hand, he ran quickly +down the steps. + +"If I touch her hand," he thought, "I am lost, my secret will escape me." + +His secret! He did not know that Bettina read his heart like an open +book. + +When Jean had descended the steps, he hesitated one short moment, these +words were upon his lips: + +"I love you, I adore you, and that is why I will see you no more!" + +But he did not utter these words, he fled away and was soon lost in the +darkness. + +Bettina remained there against the brilliant background made by the light +from the hall. Great drops of rain, driven by the wind, swept across her +bare shoulders and made her shiver; she took no notice, she distinctly +heard her heart beat. + +"I knew very well that he loved me," she thought, "but now I am very +sure, that I, too--oh! yes! I, too!--" + +All at once, in one of the great mirrors in the hall door, she saw the +reflection of the two footmen who stood there motionless, near the oak +table in the hall. Bettina heard bursts of laughter and the strains of +the waltz; she stopped. She wished to be alone, completely alone, and +addressing one of the servants, she said: + +"Go and tell your mistress that I am very tired, and have gone to my own +room." + +Annie, her maid, had fallen asleep, in an easy-chair. She sent her away. +She would undress herself. She let herself sink on a couch, she was +oppressed with delicious emotion. + +The door of her room opened, it was Mrs. Scott. + +"You are not well, Bettina?" + +"Oh, Susie, is it you, my Susie? how nice of you to come. Sit here, +close to me, quite close to me." + +She hid herself like a child in the arms of her sister, caressing with +her burning brow Susie's fresh shoulders. Then she suddenly burst into +sobs, great sobs, which stifled, suffocated her. + +"Bettina, my darling, what is the matter?" + +"Nothing, nothing! it is nothing, it is joy--joy!" + +"Joy?" + +"Yes, yes, wait--let me cry a little, it will do me so much good. But do +not be frightened, do not be frightened." + +Beneath her sister's caress, Bettina grew calm, soothed. + +"It is over, I am better now, and I can talk to you. It is about Jean." + +"Jean! You call him Jean?" + +"Yes, I call him Jean. Have you not noticed for some time that he was +dull and looked quite melancholy?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"When he came, he went and posted himself near you, and stayed there, +silent, absorbed to such a degree, that for several days I asked myself-- +pardon me for speaking to you with such frankness, it is my way, you +know--I asked myself if it were not you whom he loved, Susie; you are so +charming, it would have been so natural! But no, it was not you, it was +I!" + +"You?" + +"Yes, I. Listen, he scarcely dared to look at me, he avoided me, he fled +from me, he was afraid of me, evidently afraid. Now, in justice, am I a +person to inspire fear? I am sure I am not!" + +"Certainly not!" + +"Ah! it was not I of whom he was afraid, it was my money, my horrid +money! This money which attracts all the others and tempts them so much, +this money terrifies him, drives him desperate, because he is not like +the others, because he--" + +"My child, take care, perhaps you are mistaken." + +"Oh, no, I am not mistaken! Just now, at the door, when he was going +away, he said some words to me. These words were nothing. But if you +had seen his distress in spite of all his efforts to control it! Susie, +dear Susie, by the affection which I bear you, and God knows how great is +that affection, this is my conviction, my absolute conviction--if, +instead of being Miss Percival, I had been a poor little girl without a +penny Jean would then have taken my hand, and have told me that he loved +me, and if he had spoken to me thus, do you know what I should have +replied?" + +"That you loved him, too?" + +"Yes; and that is why I am so happy. With me it is a fixed idea that I +must adore the man who will be my husband. Well! I don't say that I +adore Jean, no, not yet; but still it is beginning, Susie, and it is +beginning so sweetly." + +"Bettina, it really makes me uneasy to see you in this state of +excitement. I do not deny that Monsieur Reynaud is much attached +to you--" + +"Oh, more than that, more than that!" + +"Loves you, if you like; yes, you are right, you are quite right. He +loves you; and are you not worthy, my darling, of all the love that one +can bear you? As to Jean--it is progressing decidedly, here am I also +calling him Jean--well! you know what I think of him. I rank him very, +very high. But in spite of that, is he really a suitable husband for +you?" + +"Yes, if I love him." + +"I am trying to talk sensibly to you, and you, on the contrary-- +Understand me, Bettina; I have an experience of the world which you can +not have. Since our arrival in Paris, we have been launched into a very +brilliant, very animated, very aristocratic society. You might have been +already, if you had liked, marchioness or princess." + +"Yes, but I did not like." + +"It would not matter to you to be called Madame Reynaud?" + +"Not in the least, if I love him." + +"Ah! you return always to--" + +"Because that is the true question. There is no other. Now I will be +sensible in my turn. This question--I grant that this is not quite +settled, and that I have, perhaps, allowed myself to be too easily +persuaded. You see how sensible I am. Jean is going away to-morrow, +I shall not see him again for three weeks. During these three weeks I +shall have ample time to question myself, to examine myself, in a word, +to know my own mind. Under my giddy manner, I am serious and thoughtful, +you know that?" + +"Oh, yes, I know it." + +"Well, I will make this petition to you, as I would have addressed it to +our mother had she been here. If, in three weeks, I say to you, 'Susie, +I am certain that I love him,' will you allow me to go to him, myself, +quite alone, and ask him if he will have me for his wife? That is what +you did with Richard. Tell me, Susie, will you allow me?" + +"Yes, I will allow you." + +Bettina embraced her sister, and murmured these words in her ear: + +"Thank you, mamma." + +"Mamma, mamma! It was thus that you used to call me when you were a +child, when we were alone in the world together, when I used to undress +you in our poor room in New York, when I held you in my arms, when I laid +you in your little bed, when I sang you to sleep. And since then, +Bettina, I have had only one desire in the world, your happiness. That +is why I beg you to reflect well. Do not answer me, do not let us talk +any more of that. I wish to leave you very calm, very tranquil. You +have sent away Annie, would you like me to be your little mamma again +tonight, to undress you, and put you to bed as I used to do?" + +"Yes, I should like it very much." + +"And when you are in bed, you promise me to be very good?" + +"As good as an angel." + +"You will do your best to go to sleep?" + +"My very best." + +"Very quietly, without thinking of anything?" + +"Very quietly, without thinking of anything." + +"Very well, then." + +Ten minutes after, Bettina's pretty head rested gently amid embroideries +and lace. Susie said to her sister: + +"I am going down to those people who bore me dreadfully this evening. +Before going to my own room, I shall come back and see if you are asleep. +Do not speak. Go to sleep." + +She went away. Bettina remained alone; she tried to keep her word; she +endeavored to go to sleep, but only half-succeeded. She fell into a +half-slumber which left her floating between dream and reality. She had +promised to think of nothing, and yet she thought of him, always of him, +of nothing but him, vaguely, confusedly. + +How long a time passed thus she could not tell. + +All at once it seemed to her that some one was walking in her room; she +half-opened her eyes, and thought she recognized her sister. In a very +sleepy voice she said to her: + +"You know I love him." + +"Hush! go to sleep." + +"I am asleep! I am asleep!" + +At last she did fall sound asleep, less profoundly, however, than usual, +for about four o'clock in the morning she was suddenly awakened by a +noise, which, the night before, would not have disturbed her slumber. +The rain fell in torrents, and beat against her window. + +"Oh, it is raining!" she thought. "He will get wet." + +That was her first thought. She rose, crossed the room barefooted, half- +opened the shutters. The day had broke, gray and lowering; the clouds +were heavy with rain, the wind blew tempestuously, and drove the rain in +gusts before it. + +Bettina did not go back to bed, she felt it would be quite impossible to +sleep again. She put on a dressing-gown, and remained at the window; she +watched the falling rain. Since he positively must go, she would have +liked the weather to be fine; she would have liked bright sunshine to +have cheered his first day's march. + +When she came to Longueval a month ago, Bettina did not know what this +meant. But she knew it now. A day's march for the artillery is twenty +or thirty miles, with an hour's halt for luncheon. It was the Abbe +Constantin who had taught her that; when going their rounds in the +morning among the poor, Bettina overwhelmed the Cure with questions on +military affairs, and particularly on the artillery. + +Twenty or thirty miles under this pouring rain! Poor Jean! Bettina +thought of young Turner, young Norton, of Paul de Lavardens, who would +sleep calmly till ten in the morning, while Jean was exposed to this +deluge. + +Paul de Lavardens! + +This name awoke in her a painful memory, the memory of that waltz the +evening before. To have danced like that, while Jean was so obviously in +trouble! That waltz took the proportions of a crime in her eyes; it was +a horrible thing that she had done. + +And then, had she not been wanting in courage and frankness in that last +interview with Jean? He neither could nor dared say anything; but she +might have shown more tenderness, more expansiveness. Sad and suffering +as he was, she should never have allowed him to go back on foot. She +ought to have detained him at any price. Her imagination tormented and +excited her; Jean must have carried away with him the impression that she +was a bad little creature, heartless and pitiless. And in half-an-hour +he was going away, away for three weeks. Ah! if she could by any means +--but there is a way! The regiment must pass along the wall of the park, +under the terrace. + +Bettina was seized with a wild desire to see Jean pass; he would +understand well, if he saw her at such an hour, that she had come to beg +his pardon for her cruelty of the previous evening. Yes, she would go! +But she had promised to Susie to be as good as an angel, and to do what +she was going to do, was that being as good as an angel? She would make +up for it by acknowledging all to Susie when she came in again, and Susie +would forgive her. + +She would go! She had made up her mind. Only how should she dress +herself? She had nothing at hand but a muslin dressing-gown, little +high-heeled slippers, and blue satin shoes. She might wake her maid. +Oh, never would she dare to do that, and time pressed; a quarter to five! +the regiment would start at five o'clock. + +She might, perhaps, manage with the muslin dressing-gown, and the satin +shoes; in the hall, she might find her hat, her little sabots which she +wore in the garden, and the large tartan cloak for driving in wet +weather. She half-opened her door with infinite precautions. Everything +slept in the house; she crept along the corridor, she descended the +staircase. + +If only the little sabots are there in their place; that is her great +anxiety. There they are! She slips them on over her satin shoes, she +wraps herself in her great mantle. + +She hears that the rain has redoubled in violence. She notices one of +those large umbrellas which the footmen use on the box in wet weather; +she seizes it; she is ready; but when she is ready to go, she sees that +the hall-door is fastened by a great iron bar. She tries to raise it; +but the bolt holds fast, resists all her efforts, and the great clock in +the hall slowly strikes five. He is starting at that moment. + +She will see him! she will see him! Her will is excited by these +obstacles. She makes a great effort; the bar yields, slips back in the +groove. But Bettina has made a long scratch on her hand, from which +issues a slender stream of blood. Bettina twists her handkerchief round +her hand, takes her great umbrella, turns the key in the lock; and opens +the door. + +At last she is out of the house! + +The weather is frightful. The wind and the rain rage together. It takes +five or six minutes to reach the terrace which looks over the road. +Bettina darts forward courageously; her head bent, hidden under her +immense umbrella, she has taken a few steps. All at once, furious, mad, +blinding, a sudden squall bursts upon Bettina, buries her in her mantle, +drives her along, lifts her almost from the ground, turns the umbrella +violently inside out; that is nothing, the disaster is not yet complete. + +Bettina has lost one of her little sabots; they were not practical +sabots; they were only pretty little things for fine weather, and at this +moment, when Bettina struggles against the tempest with her blue satin +shoe half buried in the wet gravel, at this moment the wind bears to her +the distant echo of a blast of trumpets. It is the regiment starting! + +Bettina makes a desperate effort, abandons her umbrella, finds her little +sabot, fastens it on as well as she can, and starts off running, with a +deluge descending on her head. + +At last, she is in the wood, the trees protect her a little. Another +blast, nearer this time. Bettina fancies she hears the rolling of the +gun-carriages. She makes a last effort, there is the terrace, she is +there just in time. + +Twenty yards off she perceived the white horses of the trumpeters, and +along the road caught glimpses, vaguely appearing through the fog, of the +long line of guns and wagons. + +She sheltered herself under one of the old limes which bordered the +terrace. She watched, she waited. He is there among that confused mass +of riders. Will she be able to recognize him? And he, will he see her? +Will any chance make him turn his head that way? + +Bettina knows that he is Lieutenant in the second battery of his +regiment; she knows that a battery is composed of six guns, and six +ammunition wagons. Of course it is the Abbe Constantin who has taught +her that. Thus she must allow the first battery to pass, that is to say, +count six guns, six wagons, and then--he will be there. + +There he is at last, wrapped in his great cloak, and it is he who sees, +who recognizes her first. A few moments before, he had recalled to his +mind a long walk which he had taken with her one evening, when night was +falling, on that terrace. He raised his eyes, and the very spot where he +remembered having seen her, was the spot where he found her again. He +bowed, and, bareheaded in the rain, turning round in his saddle, as long +as he could see her, he looked at her. He said again to himself what he +had said the previous evening: + +"It is for the last time." + +With a charming gesture of both hands, she returned his farewell, and +this gesture, repeated many times, brought her hands so near, so near her +lips, that one might have fancied-- + +"Ah!" she thought, "if, after that, he does not understand that I love +him, and does not forgive me my money!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE REWARD OF TENDER COURAGE + +It was the 20th of August, the day which should bring Jean back to +Longueval. + +Bettina awoke very early, rose, and ran immediately to the window. The +evening before, the sky had looked threatening, heavy with clouds. +Bettina slept but little, and all night prayed that it might not rain the +next day. + +In the early morning a dense fog enveloped the park of Longueval, the +trees of which were hidden from view, as by a curtain. But gradually the +rays of the sun dissipated the mist, the trees became vaguely discernible +through the vapor; then, suddenly, the sun shone brilliantly, flooding +with light the park, and the fields beyond; and the lake, where the black +swans were disporting themselves in the radiant light, appeared as bright +as a sheet of polished metal. + +The weather was going to be beautiful. Bettina was a little +superstitious. The sunshine gives her good hope and good courage. +"The day begins well, so it will finish well." + +Mr. Scott had come home several days before. Susie, Betting, and the +children waited on the quay at Havre for the arrival of his steamer. + +They exchanged many tender embraces; then, Richard, addressing his +sister-in-law, said, laughingly: + +"Well, when is the wedding to be?" + +"What wedding?" + +"Yours." + +"My wedding?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"And to whom am I about to be married?" + +"To Monsieur Jean Reynaud." + +"Ah! Susie has written to you?" + +"Susie? Not at all. Susie has not said a word. It is you, Bettina, who +have written to me. For the last two months, all your letters have been +occupied with this young officer." + +"All my letters?" + +"Yes, and you have written to me oftener and more at length than usual. +I do not complain of that, but I do ask when you are going to present me +with a brother-in-law?" + +He spoke jestingly, but Bettina replied: + +"Soon, I hope." + +Mr. Scott perceived that the affair was serious. When returning in the +carriage, Bettina asked Mr. Scott if he had kept her letters. + +"Certainly," he replied. + +She read them again. It was indeed only with "Jean" that all these +letters have been filled. She found therein related, down to the most +trifling details, their first meeting. There was the portrait of Jean in +the vicarage garden, with his straw hat and his earthenware salad-dish-- +and then it was again Monsieur Jean, always Monsieur Jean. She +discovered that she had loved him much longer than she had suspected. +At last it was the 10th of August. Luncheon was just over, and Harry and +Bella were impatient. They knew that between one and two o'clock the +regiment must pass through the village. They had been promised that they +should be taken to see the soldiers pass, and for them, as well as for +Bettina, the return of the 9th Artillery was a great event. + +"Aunt Betty," said Bella, "Aunt Betty, come with us." + +"Yes, do come," said Harry, "do come, we shall see our friend Jean, on +his big gray horse." + +Bettina resisted, refused--and yet how great was the temptation. But no, +she would not go, she would not see Jean again till the evening, when she +would give him that decisive explanation for which she had been preparing +herself for the last three weeks. The children went away with their +governesses. Bettina, Susie, and Richard went to sit in the park, quite +close to the castle, and as soon as they were established there: + +"Susie," said Bettina, "I am going to remind you today of your promise; +you remember what passed between us the night of his departure; we +settled that if, on the day of his return, I could say to you, 'Susie, I +am sure that I love him,' we settled that you would allow me to speak +frankly to him, and ask him if he would have me for his wife." + +"Yes, I did promise you. But are you very sure?" + +"Absolutely--and now the time has come to redeem your promise. I warn +you that I intend to bring him to this very place," she added, smiling, +"to this seat; and to use almost the same language to him that you +formerly used to Richard. You were successful, Susie, you are perfectly +happy, and I--that is what I wish to be." + +"Richard, Susie has told you about Monsieur Reynaud." + +"Yes, and she has told me that there is no man of whom she has a higher +opinion, but--" + +"But she has told you that for me it would be a rather quiet, rather +commonplace marriage. Oh, naughty sister! Will you believe it, Richard, +that I can not get this fear out of her head? She does not understand +that, before everything, I wish to love and be loved; will you believe +it, Richard, that only last week she laid a horrible trap for me? You +know that there exists a certain Prince Romanelli." + +"Yes, I know you might have been a princess." + +"That would not have been immensely difficult, I believe. Well, one day +I was so foolish as to say to Susie, that, in extremity, I might accept +the Prince Romanelli. Now, just imagine what she did. The Turners were +at Trouville, Susie had arranged a little plot. We lunched with the +Prince, but the result was disastrous. Accept him! The two hours that +I passed with him, I passed in asking myself how I could have said such a +thing. No, Richard; no, Susie; I will be neither princess, nor +marchioness, nor countess. My wish is to be Madame Jean Reynaud; if, +however, Monsieur Jean Reynaud will agree to it, and that is by no means +certain." + +The regiment entered the village, and suddenly military music burst +martial and joyous across the space. All three remained silent, it was +the regiment, it was Jean who passed; the sound became fainter, died +away, and Bettina continued: + +"No, that is not certain. He loves me, however, and much, but without +knowing well what I am; I think that I deserve to be loved differently; +I think that I should not cause him so much terror, so much fear, if he +knew me better, and that is why I ask you to permit me to speak to him +this evening freely, from my heart." + +"We will allow you," replied Richard, "you shall speak to him freely, for +we know, both of us, Bettina, that you will never do anything that is not +noble and generous." + +"At least, I shall try." + +The children ran up to them; they had seen Jean, he was quite white with +dust, he said good-morning to them. + +"Only," added Bella, "he is not very nice, he did not stop to talk to us; +usually he stops, but this time he wouldn't." + +"Yes, he would," replied Harry, "for at first he seemed as if he were +going to--and then he would not, he went away." + +"Well, he didn't stop, and it is so nice to talk to a soldier, especially +when he is on horseback." + +"It is not that only, it is that we are very fond of Monsieur Jean; if +you knew, papa, how kind he is, and how nicely he plays with us." + +"And what beautiful drawings he makes. Harry, you remember that great +Punch who was so funny, with his stick, you know?" + +"And the dog, there was the little dog, too, as in the show." + +The two children went away talking of their friend Jean. + +"Decidedly," said Mr. Scott, "every one likes him in this house." + +"And you will be like every one else when you know him," replied Bettina. + +The regiment broke into a trot along the highroad, after leaving the +village. There was the terrace where Bettina had been the other morning. +Jean said to himself: + +"Supposing she should be there." + +He dreaded and hoped it at the same time. He raised his head, he looked, +she was not there. + +He had not seen her again, he would not see her again, for a long-time at +least. He would start that very evening at six o'clock for Paris; one of +the personages in the War Office was interested in him; he would try to +get exchanged into another regiment. + +Alone at Cercottes, Jean had had time to reflect deeply, and that was the +result of his reflections. He could not, he must not, be Bettina +Percival's husband. + +The men dismounted at the barracks, Jean took leave of his Colonel, his +comrades; all was over. He was free, he could go. + +But he did not go; he looked around him. How happy he was three months +ago, when he rode out of that great yard amid the noise of the cannon +rolling over the pavement of Souvigny; but how sadly he should ride away +to-day! Formerly his life was there; where would it be hereafter? + +He returned, went to his own room, and wrote to Mrs. Scott; he told her +that his duties obliged him to leave immediately, he could not dine at +the castle, and begged Mrs. Scott to remember him to Miss Bettina. +Bettina, ah! what trouble it cost him to write that name. He closed his +letter; he would send it directly. + +He made his preparations for departure; then he went to wish his +godfather farewell. That is what cost him most; he must speak to him +only of a short absence. + +He opened one of the drawers of his bureau to take out some money. The +first thing that met his eyes was a little note on bluish paper; it was +the only note which he had ever received from her. + +"Will you have the kindness to give to the servant the book of which you +spoke yesterday evening. Perhaps it will be a little serious for me, but +yet I should like to try to read it. We shall see you to-night; come as +early as possible." It was signed "Bettina." + +Jean read and re-read these few lines, but soon he could read them no +longer, his eyes were dim. + +"It is all that is left me of her," he thought. + +At the same moment the Abbe Constantin was tete-a-tete with old Pauline, +they were making up their accounts. The financial situation was +admirable; more than 2,000 francs in hand! And the wishes of Susie and +Bettina were accomplished, there were no more poor in the neighborhood. +His old servant, Pauline, had even occasional scruples of conscience. + +"You see, Monsieur le Cure," said she, "perhaps we give them a little too +much. Then it will be spread about in other parishes that here they can +always find charity. And do you know what will happen then, one of these +days? Poor people will come and settle in Longueval." + +The Cure gave fifty francs to Pauline. She went to take them to a poor +man who had broken his arm a few days before, by falling from the top of +a hay-cart. + +The Abbe Constantin remained alone in the vicarage. He was rather +anxious. He had watched for the passing of the regiment; but Jean only +stopped for a moment, he looked sad. For some time, the Abbe had noticed +that Jean had no longer the flow of good-humor and gayety he once +possessed. + +The Cure did not disturb himself too much about it, believing it to be +one of those little youthful troubles which did not concern a poor old +priest. But, on this occasion, Jean's disturbance was very perceptible. + +"I will come back directly," he said to the Cure, "I want to speak to +you." + +He turned abruptly away. The Abbe Constantin had not even had time to +give Loulou his piece of sugar, or rather his pieces of sugar, for he had +put five or six in his pocket, considering that Loulou had well deserved +this feast by ten long days' march, and a score of nights passed under +the open sky. + +Besides, since Mrs. Scott had lived at Longueval, Loulou had very often +had several pieces of sugar; the Abbe Constantin had become extravagant, +prodigal; he felt himself a millionaire, the sugar for Loulou was one of +his follies. One day, even, he had been on the point of addressing to +Loulou his everlasting little speech: + +"This comes from the new mistresses of Longueval; pray for them to- +night." + +It was three o'clock when Jean arrived at the vicarage, and the Cure +said, immediately: + +"You told me that you wanted to speak to me; what is it about?" + +"About something, my dear godfather, which will surprise you, will grieve +you--" + +"Grieve me!" + +"Yes, and which grieves me, too--I have come to bid you farewell." + +"Farewell! you are going away?" + +"Yes, I am going away." + +"When?" + +"To-day, in two hours." + +"In two hours? But, my dear boy, you were going to dine at the castle +to-night." + +"I have just written to Mrs. Scott to excuse me. I am positively obliged +to go." + +"Directly?" + +"Directly." + +"And where are you going?" + +"To Paris." + +"To Paris! Why this sudden determination?" + +"Not so very sudden! I have thought about it for a long time." + +"And you have said nothing about it to me! Jean, something has happened. +You are a man, and I have no longer the right to treat you as a child; +but you know how much I love you; if you have vexations, troubles, why +not tell them to me? I could perhaps advise you. Jean, why go to +Paris?" + +"I did not wish to tell you, it will give you pain; but you have the +right to know. I am going to Paris to ask to be exchanged into another +regiment." + +"Into another regiment! To leave Souvigny!" + +"Yes, that is just it; I must leave Souvigny for a short time, for a +little while only; but to leave Souvigny is necessary, it is what I wish +above all things." + +"And what about me, Jean, do you not think of me? A little while! A +little while! But that is all that remains to me of life, a little +while. And during these last days, that I owe to the grace of God, it +was my happiness, yes, Jean, my happiness, to feel you here, near me, and +now you are going away! Jean, wait a little patiently, it can not be for +very long now for. Wait until the good God has called me to himself, +wait till I shall be gone, to meet there, at his side, your father and +your mother. Do not go, Jean, do not go." + +"If you love me, I love you, too, and you know it well." + +"Yes, I know it." + +"I have just the same affection for you now that I had when I was quite +little, when you took me to yourself, when you brought me up. My heart +has not changed, will never change. But if duty--if honor--oblige me to +go?" + +"Ah, if it is duty, if it is honor, I say nothing more, Jean, that stands +before all!--all!--all! I have always known you a good judge of your +duty, your honor. Go, my boy, go, I ask you nothing more, I wish to know +no more." + +"But I wish to tell you all," cried Jean, vanquished by his emotion, "and +it is better that you should know all. You will stay here, you will +return to the castle, you will see her again--her!" + +"See her! Who?" + +"Bettina!" + +"Bettina?" + +"I adore her, I adore her!" + +"Oh, my poor boy!" + +"Pardon me for speaking to you of these things; but I tell you as I would +have told my father." + +"And then, I have not been able to speak of it to any one, and it stifled +me; yes, it is a madness which has seized me, which has grown upon me, +little by little, against my will, for you know very-well--My God! +It was here that I began to love her. You know, when she came here with +her sister--with the little 'rouleaux' of francs--her hair fell down--and +then the evening, the month of Mary! Then I was permitted to see her +freely, familiarly, and you, yourself, spoke to me constantly of her. +You praised her sweetness, her goodness. How often have you told me that +there was no one in the world better than she is!" + +"And I thought it, and I think it still. And no one here knows her +better than I do, for it is I alone who have seen her with the poor. +If you only knew how tender, and how good she is! Neither wretchedness +nor suffering repulse her. But, my dear boy, I am wrong to tell you all +this." + +"No, no, I will see her no more, I promise you; but I like to hear you +speak of her." + +"In your whole life, Jean, you will never meet a better woman, nor one +who has more elevated sentiments. To such a point, that one day--she had +taken me with her in an open carriage, full of toys--she was taking these +toys to a poor sick little girl, and when she gave them to her, to make +the poor little thing laugh, to amuse her, she talked so prettily to her +that I thought of you, and I said to myself, I remember it now, 'Ah, if +she were poor!'" + +"Ah! if she were poor, but she is not." + +"Oh, no! But what can you do, my poor child! If it gives you pain to +see her, to live near her; above all, if it will prevent you suffering-- +go, go--and yet, and yet--" + +The old priest became thoughtful, let his head fall between his hands, +and remained silent for some moments; then he continued: + +"And yet, Jean, do you know what I think? I have seen a great deal of +Mademoiselle Bettina since she came to Longueval. Well--when I reflect-- +it did not astonish me that any one should be interested in you, for it +seemed so natural--but she talked always, yes, always of you." + +"Of me?" + +"Yes, of you, and of your father and mother; she was curious to know how +you lived. She begged me to explain to her what a soldier's life was, +the life of a true soldier, who loved his profession, and performed his +duties conscientiously." + +"It is extraordinary, since you have told me this, recollections crowd +upon me, a thousand little things collect and group themselves together. +They returned from Havre yesterday at three o'clock. Well! an hour +after their arrival she was here. And it was of you of whom she spoke +directly. She asked if you had written to me, if you had not been ill, +when you would arrive, at what hour, if the regiment would pass through +the village?" + +"It is useless at this moment, my dear godfather," said Jean, "to recall +all these memories." + +"No, it is not useless. She seemed so pleased, so happy even, that she +should see you again! She would make quite a fete of the dinner this +evening. She would introduce you to her brother-in-law, who has come +back. There is no one else in the house at this moment, not a single +visitor. She insisted strongly on this point, and I remember her last +words--she was there, on the threshold of the door: + +"'There will be only five of us,' she said, 'you and Monsieur Jean, my +sister, my brother-in-law, and myself.' + +"And then she added, laughing, 'Quite a family party.' + +"With these words she went, she almost ran away. Quite a family party! +Do you know what I think, Jean? Do you know?" + +"You must not think that, you must not." + +"Jean, I believe that she loves you." + +"And I believe it, too." + +"You, too!" + +"When I left her, three weeks ago, she was so agitated, so moved! She +saw me sad and unhappy, she would not let me go. It was at the door of +the castle. I was obliged to tear myself, yes, literally tear myself +away. I should have spoken, burst out, told her all. After I had gone a +few steps, I stopped and turned. She could no longer see me, I was lost +in the darkness; but I could see her. She stood there motionless, her +shoulders and arms bare, in the rain, her eyes fixed on the way by which +I had gone. Perhaps I am mad to think that. Perhaps it was only a +feeling of pity. But no, it was something more than pity, for do you +know what she did the next morning? She came at five o'clock, in the +most frightful weather, to see me pass with the regiment--and then--the +way she bade me adieu--oh, my friend, my dear old friend!" + +"But then," said the poor Cure, completely bewildered, completely at a +loss, "but then, I do not understand you at all. If you love her, Jean, +and if she loves you?" + +"But that is, above all, the reason why I must go. If it were only I, +if I were certain that she has not perceived my love, certain that she +has not been touched by it, I would stay, I would stay--for nothing but +for the sweet joy of seeing her, and I would love her from afar, without +any hope, for nothing but the happiness of loving her. But no, she has +understood too well, and far from discouraging me--that is what forces me +to go." + +"No, I do not understand it! I know well, my poor boy, we are speaking +of things in which I am no great scholar, but you are both good, young, +and charming; you love her, she would love you, and you will not!" + +"And her money! her money!" + +"What matters her money? If it is only that, is it because of her money +that you have loved her? It is rather in spite of her money. Your +conscience, my son, would be quite at peace with regard to that, and that +would suffice." + +"No, that would not suffice. To have a good opinion of one's self is not +enough; that opinion must be shared by others." + +"Oh, Jean! Among all who know you, who can doubt you?" + +"Who knows? And then there is another thing besides this question of +money, another thing more serious and more grave. I am not the husband +suited to her." + +"And who could be more worthy than you?" + +"The question to be considered is not my worth; we have to consider what +she is and what I am, to ask what ought to be her life, and what ought to +be my life." + +"One day, Paul--you know he has rather a blunt way of saying things, but +that very bluntness often places thoughts much more distinctly before us +--Paul was speaking of her; he did not suspect anything; if he had, he is +good-natured, he would not have spoken thus--well, he said to me: + +"'What she needs is a husband who would be entirely devoted to her, to +her alone, a husband who would have no other care than to make her +existence a perpetual holiday, a husband who would give himself, his +whole life, in return for her money.' + +"You know me; such a husband I can not, I must not be. I am a soldier, +and shall remain one. If the chances of my career sent me some day to a +garrison in the depths of the Alps, or in some almost unknown village in +Algeria, could I ask her to follow me? Could I condemn her to the life +of a soldier's wife, which is in some degree the life of a soldier +himself? Think of the life which she leads now, of all that luxury, of +all those pleasures!" + +"Yes," said the Abbe, "that is more serious than the question of money." + +"So serious that there is no hesitation possible. During the three weeks +that I passed alone in the camp, I have well considered all that; I have +thought of nothing else, and loving her as I do love, the reason must +indeed be strong which shows me clearly my duty. I must go, I must go +far, very far away, as far as possible. I shall suffer much, but I must +not see her again! I must not see her again!" + +Jean sank on a chair near the fireplace. He remained there quite +overpowered with his emotion. The old priest looked at him. + +"To see you suffer, my poor boy! That such suffering should fall upon +you! It is too cruel, too unjust!" + +At that moment some one knocked gently at the door. + +"Ah!" said the Cure, "do not be afraid, Jean. I will send them away." + +The Abbe went to the door, opened it, and recoiled as if before an +unexpected apparition. + +It was Bettina. In a moment she had seen Jean, and going direct to him: + +"You!" cried she. "Oh, how glad I am!" + +He rose. She took his hands, and addressing the Cure, she said: + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Cure, for going to him first. You, I saw +yesterday, and him, not for three whole weeks, not since a certain night, +when he left our house, sad and suffering." + +She still held Jean's hands. He had neither power to make a movement nor +to utter a sound. + +"And now," continued Betting, "are you better? No, not yet, I can see, +still sad. Ah, I have done well to come! It was an inspiration! +However, it embarrasses me a little, it embarrasses me a great deal, to +find you here. You will understand why when you know what I have come to +ask of your godfather." + +She relinquished his hands, and turning toward the Abbe, said: + +"I have come to beg you to listen to my confession--yes, my confession. +But do not go away, Monsieur Jean; I will make my confession publicly. +I am quite willing to speak before you, and now I think of it, it will be +better thus. Let us sit down, shall we?" + +She felt herself full of confidence and daring. She burned with fever, +but with that fever which, on the field of battle, gives to a soldier +ardor, heroism, and disdain of danger. The emotion which made Bettina's +heart beat quicker than usual was a high and generous emotion. She said +to herself: + +"I will be loved! I will love! I will be happy! I will make him happy! +And since he has not sufficient courage to do it, I must have it for +both. I must march alone, my head high, and my heart at ease, to the +conquest of our love, to the conquest of our happiness!" + +From her first words Bettina had gained over the Abbe and Jean a complete +ascendancy. They let her say what she liked, they let her do as she +liked, they felt that the hour was supreme; they understood that what was +happening would be decisive, irrevocable, but neither was in a position +to foresee. + +They sat down obediently, almost automatically; they waited, they +listened. Alone, of the three, Bettina retained her composure. It was +in a calm and even voice that she began. + +"I must tell you first, Monsieur le Cure, to set your conscience quite at +rest, I must tell you that I am here with the consent of my sister and my +brother-in-law. They know why I have come; they know what I am about to +do. They not only know, but they approve. That is settled, is it not? +Well, what brings me here is your letter, Monsieur Jean, that letter in +which you tell my sister that you can not dine with us this evening, and +that you are positively obliged to leave here. This letter has unsettled +all my plans. I had intended, this evening--of course with the +permission of my sister and brother-in-law--I had intended, after dinner, +to take you into the park, to seat myself with you on a bench; I was +childish enough to choose the place beforehand." + +"There I should have delivered a little speech, well prepared, well +studied, almost learned by heart, for since your departure I have +scarcely thought of anything else; I repeat it to myself from morning to +night. That is what I had proposed to do, and you understand that your +letter caused me much embarrassment. I reflected a little, and thought +that if I addressed my little speech to your godfather it would be almost +the same as if I addressed it to you. So I have come, Monsieur le Cure, +to beg you to listen to me." + +"I will listen to you, Miss Percival," stammered the Abbe. + +"I am rich, Monsieur le Cure, I am very rich, and to speak frankly +I love my wealth very much-yes, very much. To it I owe the luxury which +surrounds me, luxury which, I acknowledge--it is a confession--is by no +means disagreeable to me. My excuse is that I am still very young; +it will perhaps pass as I grow older, but of that I am not very sure. +I have another excuse; it is, that if I love money a little for the +pleasure that it procures me, I love it still more for the good which it +allows me to do. I love it--selfishly, if you like--for the joy of +giving, but I think that my fortune is not very badly placed in my hands. +Well, Monsieur le Cure, in the same way that you have the care of souls, +it seems that I have the care of money. I have always thought, 'I wish, +above all things, that my husband should be worthy of sharing this great +fortune. I wish to be very sure that he will make a good use of it with +me while I am here, and after me, if I must leave this world first.' +I thought of another thing; I thought, 'He who will be my husband must +be some one I can love!' And now, Monsieur le Cure, this is where my +confession really begins. There is a man, who for the last two months, +has done all he can to conceal from me that he loves me; but I do not +doubt that this man loves me. You do love me, Jean?" + +"Yes," said Jean, in a low voice, his eyes cast down, looking like a +criminal, "I do love you!" + +"I knew it very well, but I wanted to hear you say it, and now I entreat +you, do not utter a single word. Any words of yours would be useless, +would disturb me, would prevent me from going straight to my aim, and +telling you what I positively intend to say. Promise me to stay there, +sitting still, without moving, without speaking. You promise me?" + +"I promise you." + +Bettina, as she went on speaking, began to lose a little of her +confidence, her voice trembled slightly. She continued, however, +with a gayety that was a little forced: + +"Monsieur le Cure, I do not blame you for what has happened, yet all this +is a little your fault." + +"My fault!" + +"Ah! do not speak, not even you. Yes, I repeat it, your fault. I am +certain that you have spoken well of me to Jean, much too well. Perhaps, +without that, he would not have thought-- And at the same time you have +spoken very well of him to me. Not too well--no, no--but yet very well! +Then, I had so much confidence in you, that I began to look at him, and +examine, him with a little more attention. I began to compare him with +those who, during the last year, had asked my hand. It seemed to me that +he was in every respect superior to them. + +"At last, it happened, on a certain day, or rather on a certain evening- +three weeks ago, the evening before you left here, Jean--I discovered +that I loved you. Yes, Jean, I love you! I entreat you, do not speak; +stay where you are; do not come near me. + +"Before I came here, I thought I had supplied myself with a good stock of +courage, but you see I have no longer my fine composure of a minute ago. +But I have still something to tell you, and the most important of all. +Jean, listen to me well; I do not wish for a reply torn from your +emotion; I know that you love me. If you marry me, I do not wish it to +be only for love; I wish it to be also for reason. During the fortnight +before you left here, you took so much pains to avoid me, to escape any +conversation, that I have not been able to show myself to you as I am. +Perhaps there are in me certain qualities which you do not suspect. + +"Jean, I know what you are, I know to what I should bind myself in +marrying you, and I should be for you not only the loving and tender +woman, but the courageous and constant wife. I know your entire life; +your godfather has related it to me. I know why you became a soldier; +I know what duties, what sacrifices, the future may demand from you. +Jean, do not suppose that I shall turn you from any of these duties, +from any of these sacrifices. If I could be disappointed with you for +anything, it would be, perhaps, for this thought--oh, you must have had +it!--that I should wish you free, and quite my own, that I should ask you +to abandon your career. Never! never! Understand well, I shall never +ask such a thing of you. + +"A young girl whom I know did that when she married, and she did wrong. +I love you, and I wish you to be just what you are. It is because you +live differently from, and better than, those who have before desired me +for a wife, that I desire you for a husband. I should love you less-- +perhaps I should not love you at all, though that would be very +difficult--if you were to begin to live as all those live whom I would +not have. When I can follow you, I will follow you; wherever you are +will be my duty, wherever you are will be my happiness. And if the day +comes when you can not take me, the day when you must go alone, well! +Jean, on that day, I promise you to be brave, and not take your courage +from you. + +"And now, Monsieur le Cure, it is not to him, it is to you that I am +speaking; I want you to answer me, not him. Tell me, if he loves me, +and feels me worthy of his love, would it be just to make me expiate so +severely the fortune that I possess? Tell me, should he not agree to be +my husband?" + +"Jean," said the old priest, gravely, "marry her. It is your duty, and +it will be your happiness!" + +Jean approached Bettina, took her in his arms, and pressed upon her brow +the first kiss. + +Bettina gently freed herself, and addressing the Abbe, said: + +"And now, Monsieur l'Abbe, I have still one thing to ask you. I wish-- +I wish--" + +"You wish?" + +"Pray, Monsieur le Cure, embrace me, too." + +The old priest kissed her paternally on both cheeks, and then Bettina +continued: + +"You have often told me, Monsieur le Cure, that Jean was almost like your +own son, and I shall be almost like your own daughter, shall I not? So +you will have two children, that is all." + + ........................... + +A month after, on the 12th of September, at mid-day, Bettina, in the +simplest of wedding-gowns, entered the church of Longueval, while, placed +behind the altar, the trumpets of the 9th Artillery rang joyously through +the arches of the old church. + +Nancy Turner had begged for the honor of playing the organ on this solemn +occasion, for the poor little harmonium had disappeared; an organ, with +resplendent pipes, rose in the gallery of the church--it was Miss +Percival's wedding present to the Abbe Constantin. + +The old Cure said mass, Jean and Bettina knelt before him, he pronounced +the benediction, and then remained for some moments in prayer, his arms +extended, calling down, with his whole soul, the blessings of Heaven on +his two children. + +Then floated from the organ the same reverie of Chopin's which Bettina +had played the first time that she had entered that little village +church, where was to be consecrated the happiness of her life. + +And this time it was Bettina who wept. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart +One may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Abbe Constantin, v3 +by Ludovic Halevy + |