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Ludovic was destined for the civil service, and, after +finishing his studies, entered successively the Department of State +(1852); the Algerian Department (1858), and later on became editorial +secretary of the Corps Legislatif (1860). When his patron, the Duc de +Morny, died in 1865, Halevy resigned, giving up a lucrative position for +the uncertain profession of a playwright: At this period he devoted +himself exclusively to the theatre. + +He had already written plays as early as 1856, and had also tried his +hand at fiction, but did not meet with very great success. Toward 1860, +however, he became acquainted with Henri Meilhac, and with him formed a +kind of literary union, lasting for almost twenty years, when Halevy +rather abruptly abandoned the theatre and became a writer of fiction. + +We have seen such kinds of co-partnerships, for instance, in Beaumont and +Fletcher; more recently in the beautiful French tales of Erckmann- +Chatrian, and still later in the English novels of Besant and Rice. + +Some say it was a fortunate event for Meilhac; others assert that Halevy +reaped a great profit by the union. Be this as it may, a great number of +plays-drama, comedy, farce, opera, operetta and ballet--were jointly +produced, as is shown by the title-pages of two score or more of their +pieces. When Ludovic Halevy was a candidate for L'Academie--he entered +that glorious body in 1884--the question was ventilated by Pailleron: +"What was the author's literary relation in his union with Meilhac?" It +was answered by M. Sarcey, who criticised the character and quality of +the work achieved. Public opinion has a long time since brought in quite +another verdict in the case. + +Halevy's cooperation endowed the plays of Meilhac with a fuller ethical +richness--tempered them, so to speak, and made them real, for it can not +be denied that Meilhac was inclined to extravagance. + +Halevy's novels are remarkable for the elegance of literary style, +tenderness of spirit and keenness of observation. He excels in ironical +sketches. He has often been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is +lighter than Sue's, and his humor less unctuous. Most of his little +sketches, originally written for La Vie Parisienne, were collected in his +'Monsieur et Madame Cardinal' (1873); and 'Les Petites Cardinal', (1880). +They are not intended 'virginibus puerisque', and the author's attitude +is that of a half-pitying, half-contemptuous moralist, yet the virility +of his criticism has brought him immortality. + +Personal recollections of the great war are to be found in 'L'Invasion' +(1872); and 'Notes et Souvenirs', 1871-1872 (1889). Most extraordinary, +however, was the success of 'L'Abbe Constantin' (1882), crowned by the +Academy, which has gone through no less than one hundred and fifty +editions up to 1904, and ranks as one of the greatest successes of +contemporaneous literature. It is, indeed, his 'chef-d'oeuvre', very +delicate, earnest, and at the same time ironical, a most entrancing +family story. It was then that the doors of the French Academy opened +wide before Halevy. 'L'Abbe Constantin' was adapted for the stage by +Cremieux and Decourcelle (Le Gymnase, 1882). Further notable novels are: +'Criquette, Deux Mariages, Un Grand Mariage, Un Mariage d'Amour', all in +1883; 'Princesse, Les Trois Coups de Foudre, Mon Camarade Moussard', all +in 1884; and the romances, 'Karikari (1892), and Mariette (1893)'. Since +that time, I think, Halevy has not published anything of importance. + + E. LEGOUVE + de l'Academie Francaise. + + + + +THE ABBE CONSTANTIN + + +BOOK 1. + + +CHAPTER I + +THE SALE OF LONGUEVAL + +With a step still valiant and firm, an old priest walked along the dusty +road in the full rays of a brilliant sun. For more than thirty years the +Abbe Constantin had been Cure of the little village which slept there in +the plain, on the banks of a slender stream called La Lizotte. The Abbe +Constantin was walking by the wall which surrounded the park of the +castle of Longueval; at last he reached the entrance-gate, which rested +high and massive on two ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by +time. The Cure stopped, and mournfully regarded two immense blue posters +fixed on the pillars. + +The posters announced that on Wednesday, May 18, 1881, at one o'clock +P.M., would take place, before the Civil Tribunal of Souvigny, the sale +of the domain of Longueval, divided into four lots: + +1. The castle of Longueval, its dependencies, fine pieces of water, +extensive offices, park of 150 hectares in extent, completely surrounded +by a wall, and traversed by the little river Lizotte. Valued at 600,000 +francs. + +2. The farm of Blanche-Couronne, 300 hectares, valued at 500,000 francs. + +3. The farm of La Rozeraie, 250 hectares, valued at 400,000 francs. + +4. The woods and forests of La Mionne, containing 450 hectares, valued +at 550,000 francs. + +And these four amounts, added together at the foot of the bill, gave the +respectable sum of 2,050,000 francs. + +Then they were really going to dismember this magnificent domain, which, +escaping all mutilation, had for more than two centuries always been +transmitted intact from father to son in the family of Longueval. The +placards also announced that after the temporary division into four lots, +it would be possible to unite them again, and offer for sale the entire +domain; but it was a very large morsel, and, to all appearance, no +purchaser would present himself. + +The Marquise de Longueval had died six months before; in 1873 she had +lost her only son, Robert de Longueval; the three heirs were the +grandchildren of the Marquise: Pierre, Helene, and Camille. It had been +found necessary to offer the domain for sale, as Helene and Camille were +minors. Pierre, a young man of three-and-twenty, had lived rather fast, +was already half-ruined, and could not hope to redeem Longueval. + +It was mid-day. In an hour it would have a new master, this old castle +of Longueval; and this master, who would he be? What woman would take +the place of the old Marquise in the chimney-corner of the grand salon, +all adorned with ancient tapestry?--the old Marquise, the friend of the +old priest. It was she who had restored the church; it was she who had +established and furnished a complete dispensary at the vicarage under the +care of Pauline, the Cure's servant; it was she who, twice a week, in her +great barouche, all crowded with little children's clothes and thick +woolen petticoats, came to fetch the Abbe Constantin to make with him +what she called 'la chasse aux pauvres'. + +The old priest continued his walk, musing over all this; then he thought, +too--the greatest saints have their little weaknesses--he thought, too, +of the beloved habits of thirty years thus rudely interrupted. Every +Thursday and every Sunday he had dined at the castle. How he had been +petted, coaxed, indulged! Little Camille--she was eight years old--would +come and sit on his knee and say to him: + +"You know, Monsieur le Cure, it is in your church that I mean to be +married, and grandmamma will send such heaps of flowers to fill, quite +fill the church--more than for the month of Mary. It will be like a +large garden--all white, all white, all white!" + +The month of Mary! It was then the month of Mary. Formerly, at this +season, the altar disappeared under the flowers brought from the +conservatories of Longueval. None this year were on the altar, except a +few bouquets of lily-of-the-valley and white lilac in gilded china vases. +Formerly, every Sunday at high mass, and every evening during the month +of Mary, Mademoiselle Hebert, the reader to Madame de Longueval, played +the little harmonium given by the Marquise. Now the poor harmonium, +reduced to silence, no longer accompanied the voices of the choir or the +children's hymns. Mademoiselle Marbeau, the postmistress, would, with +all her heart, have taken the place of Mademoiselle Hebert, but she dared +not, though she was a little musical! She was afraid of being remarked +as of the clerical party, and denounced by the Mayor, who was a +Freethinker. That might have been injurious to her interests, and +prevented her promotion. + +He had nearly reached the end of the wall of the park--that park of which +every corner was known to the old priest. The road now followed the +banks of the Lizotte, and on the other side of the little stream +stretched the fields belonging to the two farms; then, still farther off, +rose the dark woods of La Mionne. + +Divided! The domain was going to be divided! The heart of the poor +priest was rent by this bitter thought. All that for thirty years had +been inseparable, indivisible to him. It was a little his own, his very +own, his estate, this great property. He felt at home on the lands of +Longueval. It had happened more than once that he had stopped +complacently before an immense cornfield, plucked an ear, removed the +husk, and said to himself: + +"Come! the grain is fine, firm, and sound. This year we shall have a +good harvest!" + +And with a joyous heart he would continue his way through his fields, his +meadows, his pastures; in short, by every chord of his heart, by every +tie of his life, by all his habits, his memories, he clung to this domain +whose last hour had come. + +The Abbe perceived in the distance the farm of Blanche-Couronne; its red- +tiled roofs showed distinctly against the verdure of the forest. There, +again, the Cure was at home. Bernard, the farmer of the Marquise, was +his friend; and when the old priest was delayed in his visits to the poor +and sick, when the sun was sinking below the horizon, and the Abbe began +to feel a little fatigued in his limbs, and a sensation of exhaustion in +his stomach, he stopped and supped with Bernard, regaled himself with a +savory stew and potatoes, and emptied his pitcher of cider; then, after +supper, the farmer harnessed his old black mare to his cart, and took the +vicar back to Longueval. The whole distance they chatted and quarrelled. +The Abbe reproached the farmer with not going to mass, and the latter +replied: + +"The wife and the girls go for me. You know very well, Monsieur le Cure, +that is how it is with us. The women have enough religion for the men. +They will open the gates of paradise for us." + +And he added maliciously, while giving a touch of the whip to his old +black mare: + +"If there is one!" + +The Cure sprang from his seat. + +"What! if there is one! Of a certainty there is one." + +"Then you will be there, Monsieur le Cure. You say that is not certain, +and I say it is. You will be there, you will be there, at the gate, on +the watch for your parishioners, and still busy with their little +affairs; and you will say to St. Peter--for it is St. Peter, isn't it, +who keeps the keys of paradise?" + +"Yes, it is St. Peter." + +"Well, you will say to him, to St. Peter, if he wants to shut the door in +my face under the pretense that I did not go to mass--you will say to +him: 'Bah! let him in all the same. It is Bernard, one of the farmers +of Madame la Marquise, an honest man. He was common councilman, and he +voted for the maintenance of the sisters when they were going to be +expelled from the village school.' That will touch St. Peter, who will +answer: 'Well, well, you may pass, Bernard, but it is only to please +Monsieur le Cure.' For you will be Monsieur le Cure up there, and Cure +of Longueval, too, for paradise itself would be dull for you if you must +give up being Cure of Longueval." + +Cure of Longueval! Yes, all his life he had been nothing but Cure of +Longueval, had never dreamed of anything else, had never wished to be +anything else. Three or four times excellent livings, with one or two +curates, had been offered to him, but he had always refused them. He +loved his little church, his little village, his little vicarage. There +he had it all to himself, saw to everything himself; calm, tranquil, he +went and came, summer and winter, in sunshine or storm, in wind or rain. +His frame became hardened by fatigue and exposure, but his soul remained +gentle, tender, and pure. + +He lived in his vicarage, which was only a larger laborer's cottage, +separated from the church by the churchyard. When the Cure mounted the +ladder to train his pear and peach trees, over the top of the wall he +perceived the graves over which he had said the last prayer, and cast the +first spadeful of earth. Then, while continuing his work, he said in his +heart a little prayer for the repose of those among his dead whose fate +disturbed him, and who might be still detained in purgatory. He had a +tranquil and childlike faith. + +But among these graves there was one which, oftener than all the others, +received his visits and his prayers. It was the tomb of his old friend +Dr. Reynaud, who had died in his arms in 1871, and under what +circumstances! The doctor had been like Bernard; he never went to mass +or to confession; but he was so good, so charitable, so compassionate to +the suffering. This was the cause of the Cure's great anxiety, of his +great solicitude. His friend Reynaud, where was he? Where was he? Then +he called to mind the noble life of the country doctor, all made up of +courage and self-denial; he recalled his death, above all his death, and +said to himself: + +"In paradise; he can be nowhere but in paradise. The good God may have +sent him to purgatory just for form's sake--but he must have delivered +him after five minutes." + +All this passed through the mind of the old man, as he continued his walk +toward Souvigny. He was going to the town, to the solicitor of the +Marquise, to inquire the result of the sale; to learn who were to be the +new masters of the castle of Longueval. The Abbe had still about a mile +to walk before reaching the first houses of Souvigny, and was passing the +park of Lavardens when he heard, above his head, voices calling to him: + +"Monsieur le Cure, Monsieur le Cure." + +At this spot adjoining the wall, a long alley of limetrees bordered the +terrace, and the Abbe, raising his head, perceived Madame de Lavardens, +and her son Paul. + +"Where are you going, Monsieur le Cure?" asked the Countess. + +"To Souvigny, to the Tribunal, to learn--" + +"Stay here--Monsieur de Larnac is coming after the sale to tell me the +result." + +The Abbe Constantin joined them on the terrace. + +Gertrude de Lannilis, Countess de Lavardens, had been very unfortunate. +At eighteen she had been guilty of a folly, the only one of her life, but +that one--irreparable. She had married for love, in a burst of +enthusiasm and exaltation, M. de Lavardens, one of the most fascinating +and brilliant men of his time. He did not love her, and only married her +from necessity; he had devoured his patrimonial fortune to the very last +farthing, and for two or three years had supported himself by various +expedients. Mademoiselle de Lannilis knew all that, and had no illusions +on these points, but she said to herself: + +"I will love him so much, that he will end by loving me." + +Hence all her misfortunes. Her existence might have been tolerable, if +she had not loved her husband so much; but she loved him too much. She +had only succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness. +He returned to his former life, which had been most irregular. Fifteen +years had passed thus, in a long martyrdom, supported by Madame de +Lavardens with all the appearance of passive resignation. Nothing ever +could distract her from, or cure her of, the love which was destroying +her. + +M. de Lavardens died in 1869; he left a son fourteen years of age, in +whom were already visible all the defects and all the good qualities of +his father. Without being seriously affected, the fortune of Madame de +Lavardens was slightly compromised, slightly diminished. Madame de +Lavardens sold her mansion in Paris, retired to the country, where she +lived with strict economy, and devoted herself to the education of her +son. + +But here again grief and disappointment awaited her. Paul de Lavardens +was intelligent, amiable, and affectionate, but thoroughly rebellious +against any constraint, and any species of work. He drove to despair +three or four tutors who vainly endeavored to force something serious +into his head, went up to the military college of Saint-Cyr, failed at +the examination, and began to devour in Paris, with all the haste and +folly possible, 200,000 or 300,000 francs. + +That done, he enlisted in the first regiment of the Chasseurs d'Afrique, +had in the very beginning of his military career the good fortune to make +one of an expeditionary column sent into the Sahara, distinguished +himself, soon became quartermaster, and at the end of three years was +about to be appointed sub-lieutenant, when he was captivated by a young +person who played the 'Fille de Madame Angot', at the theatre in Algiers. + +Paul had finished his time, he quitted the service, and went to Paris +with his charmer . . . . then it was a dancer . . . . then it was +an actress . . . . then a circus-rider. He tried life in every form. +He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied. + +But it was only three or four months that he passed in Paris each year. +His mother made him an allowance Of 30,000 francs, and had declared to +him that never, while she lived, should he have another penny before his +marriage. He knew his mother, he knew he must consider her words as +serious. Thus, wishing to make a good figure in Paris, and lead a merry +life, he spent his 30,000 francs in three months, and then docilely +returned to Lavardens, where he was "out at grass." He spent his time +hunting, fishing, and riding with the officers of the artillery regiment +quartered at Souvigny. The little provincial milliners and grisettes +replaced, without rendering him obvious of, the little singers and +actresses of Paris. By searching for them, one may still find grisettes +in country towns, and Paul de Lavardens sought assiduously. + +As soon as the Cure had reached Madame de Lavardens, she said: "Without +waiting for Monsieur de Larnac, I can tell you the names of the +purchasers of the domain of Longueval. I am quite easy on the subject, +and have no doubt of the success of our plan. In order to avoid any +foolish disputes, we have agreed among ourselves, that is, among our +neighbors, Monsieur de Larnac, Monsieur Gallard, a great Parisian banker, +and myself. Monsieur de Larnac will have La Mionne, Monsieur Gallard the +castle and Blanche-Couronne, and La Rozeraie. I know you, Monsieur le +Cure, you will be anxious about your poor, but comfort yourself. These +Gallards are rich and will give you plenty of money." + +At this moment a cloud of dust appeared on the road, from it emerged a +carriage. + +"Here comes Monsieur de Larnac!" cried Paul, "I know his ponies!" + +All three hurriedly descended from the terrace and returned to the +castle. They arrived there just as M. de Larnac's carriage drove up to +the entrance. + +"Well?" asked Madame de Lavardens. + +"Well!" replied M. de Larnac, "we have nothing." + +"What? Nothing?" cried Madame de Lavardens, very pale and agitated. + +"Nothing, nothing; absolutely nothing--the one or the other of us." + +And M. de Larnac springing from his carriage, related what had taken +place at the sale before the Tribunal of Souvigny. + +"At first," he said, "everything went upon wheels. The castle went to +Monsieur Gallard for 650,000 francs. No competitor--a raise of fifty +francs had been sufficient. On the other hand, there was a little battle +for Blanche-Couronne. The bids rose from 500,000 francs to 520,000 +francs, and again Monsieur Gallard was victorious. Another and more +animated battle for La Rozeraie; at last it was knocked down to you, +Madame, for 455,000 francs . . . . I got the forest of La Mionne +without opposition at a rise of 100 francs. All seemed over, those +present had risen, our solicitors were surrounded with persons asking the +names of the purchasers." + +"Monsieur Brazier, the judge intrusted with the sale, desired silence, +and the bailiff of the court offered the four lots together for 2,150,000 +or 2,160,000 francs, I don't remember which. A murmur passed through the +assembly. 'No one will bid' was heard on all sides. But little Gibert, +the solicitor, who was seated in the first row, and till then had given +no sign of life, rose and said calmly, 'I have a purchaser for the four +lots together at 2,200,000 francs.' This was like a thunderbolt. +A tremendous clamor arose, followed by a dead silence. The hall was +filled with farmers and laborers from the neighborhood. Two million +francs! So much money for the land threw them into a sort of respectful +stupor. However, Monsieur Gallard, bending toward Sandrier, the +solicitor who had bid for him, whispered something in his ear. The +struggle began between Gibert and Sandrier. The bids rose to 2,500,000 +francs. Monsieur Gallard hesitated for a moment--decided--continued up +to 3,000,000. Then he stopped and the whole went to Gibert. Every one +rushed on him, they surrounded--they crushed him: 'The name, the name of +the purchaser?' 'It is an American,' replied Gibert, 'Mrs. Scott.'" + +"Mrs. Scott!" cried Paul de Lavardens. + +"You know her?" asked Madame de Lavardens. + +"Do I know her?--do I--not at all. But I was at a ball at her house six +weeks ago." + +"At a ball at her house! and you don't know her! What sort of woman is +she, then?" + +"Charming, delightful, ideal, a miracle!" + +"And is there a Mr. Scott?" + +"Certainly, a tall, fair man. He was at his ball. They pointed him out +to me. He bowed at random right and left. He was not much amused, I +will answer for it. He looked at us as if he were thinking, 'Who are all +these people? What are they doing at my house?' We went to see Mrs. +Scott and Miss Percival, her sister. And certainly it was well worth the +trouble." + +"These Scotts," said Madame de Lavardens, addressing M. de Larnac, "do +you know who they are?" + +"Yes, Madame, I know. Mr. Scott is an American, possessing a colossal +fortune, who settled himself in Paris last year. As soon as their name +was mentioned, I understood that the victory had never been doubtful. +Gallard was beaten beforehand. The Scotts began by buying a house in +Paris for 2,000,000 francs, it is near the Parc Monceau." + +"Yes, Rue Murillo," said Paul; "I tell you I went to a ball there. It +was--" + +"Let Monsieur de Larnac speak. You can tell us presently about the ball +at Mrs. Scott's." + +"Well, now, imagine my Americans established in Paris," continued M. de +Larnac, "and the showers of gold begun. In the orthodox parvenu style +they amuse themselves with throwing handfuls of gold out of window. +Their great wealth is quite recent, they say; ten years ago Mrs. Scott +begged in the streets of New York." + +"Begged!" + +"They say so. Then she married this Scott, the son of a New York banker, +and all at once a successful lawsuit put into their hands not millions, +but tens of millions. Somewhere in America they have a silver mine, but +a genuine mine, a real mine--a mine with silver in it. Ah! we shall see +what luxury will reign at Longueval! We shall all look like paupers +beside them! It is said that they have 100,000 francs a day to spend." + +"Such are our neighbors!" cried Madame de Lavardens. "An adventuress! +and that is the least of it--a heretic, Monsieur l'Abbe, a Protestant!" + +A heretic! a Protestant! Poor Cure; it was indeed that of which he had +immediately thought on hearing the words, "An American, Mrs. Scott." The +new chatelaine of Longueval would not go to mass. What did it matter to +him that she had been a beggar? What did it matter to him if she +possessed tens and tens of millions? She was not a Catholic. He would +never again baptize children born at Longueval, and the chapel in the +castle, where he had so often said mass, would be transformed into a +Protestant oratory, which would echo only the frigid utterances of a +Calvinistic or Lutheran pastor. + +Every one was distressed, disappointed, overwhelmed; but in the midst of +the general depression Paul stood radiant. + +"A charming heretic at all events," said he, "or rather two charming +heretics. You should see the two sisters on horseback in the Bois, with +two little grooms behind them not higher than that." + +"Come, Paul, tell us all you know. Describe the ball of which you speak. +How did you happen to go to a ball at these Americans?" + +"By the greatest chance. My Aunt Valentine was at home that night; I +looked in about ten o'clock. Well, Aunt Valentine's Wednesdays are not +exactly scenes of wild enjoyment, I give you my word! I had been there +about twenty minutes when I caught sight of Roger de Puymartin escaping +furtively. I caught him in the hall and said: + +"'We will go home together.' + +"'Oh! I am not going home.' + +"'Where are you going?' + +"'To the ball.' + +"'Where?' + +"'At Mrs. Scott's. Will you come?' + +"'But I have not been invited.' + +"'Neither have I' + +"'What! not invited?' + +"'No. I am going with one of my friends.' + +"'And does your friend know them?' + +"'Scarcely; but enough to introduce us. Come along; you will see Mrs. +Scott.' + +"'Oh! I have seen her on horseback in the Bois.' + +"'But she does not wear a low gown on horseback; you have not seen her +shoulders, and they are shoulders which ought to be seen. There is +nothing better in Paris at this moment.' + +"And I went to the ball, and I saw Mrs. Scott's red hair, and I saw Mrs. +Scott's white shoulders, and I hope to see them again when there are +balls at Longueval." + +"Paul!" said Madame de Lavardens, pointing to the Abbe. + +"Oh! Monsieur l'Abbe, I beg a thousand pardons. Have I said anything? +It seems to me--" + +The poor old priest had heard nothing; his thoughts were elsewhere. +Already he saw, in the village streets, the Protestant pastor from the +castle stopping before each house, and slipping under the doors little +evangelical pamphlets. + +Continuing his account, Paul launched into an enthusiastic description of +the mansion, which was a marvel-- + +"Of bad taste and ostentation," interrupted Madame de Lavardens. + +"Not at all, mother, not at all; nothing startling, nothing loud. It is +admirably furnished, everything done with elegance and originality. An +incomparable conservatory, flooded with electric light; the buffet was +placed in the conservatory under a vine laden with grapes, which one +could gather by handfuls, and in the month of April! The accessories of +the cotillon cost, it appears, more than 400,000 francs. Ornaments, +'bon-bonnieres', delicious trifles, and we were begged to accept them. +For my part I took nothing, but there were many who made no scruple. +That evening Puymartin told me Mrs. Scott's history, but it was not at +all like Monsieur de Larnac's story. Roger said that, when quite little, +Mrs. Scott had been stolen from her family by some acrobats, and that her +father had found her in a travelling circus, riding on barebacked horses +and jumping through paper hoops." + +"A circus-rider!" cried Madame de Lavardens, "I should have preferred +the beggar." + +"And while Roger was telling me this Family Herald romance, I saw +approaching from the end of a gallery a wonderful cloud of lace and +satin; it surrounded this rider from a wandering circus, and I admired +those shoulders, those dazzling shoulders, on which undulated a necklace +of diamonds as big as the stopper of a decanter. They say that the +Minister of Finance had sold secretly to Mrs. Scott half the crown +diamonds, and that was how, the month before, he had been able to show a +surplus of 1,500,000 francs in the budget. Add to all this that the lady +had a remarkably good air, and that the little acrobat seemed perfectly +at home in the midst of all this splendor." + +Paul was going so far that his mother was obliged to stop him. Before M. +de Larnac, who was excessively annoyed and disappointed, he showed too +plainly his delight at the prospect of having this marvellous American +for a near neighbor. + +The Abbe Constantin was preparing to return to Longueval, but Paul, +seeing him ready to start, said: + +"No! no! Monsieur le Cure, you must not think of walking back to +Longueval in the heat of the day. Allow me to drive you home. I am +really grieved to see you so cast down, and will try my best to amuse +you. Oh! if you were ten times a saint I would make you laugh at my +stories." + +And half an hour after, the two--the Cure and Paul--drove side by side in +the direction of the village. Paul talked, talked, talked. His mother +was not there to check or moderate his transports, and his joy was +overflowing. + +"Now, look here, Monsieur l'Abbe, you are wrong to take things in this +tragic manner. Stay, look at my little mare, how well she trots! what +good action she has! You have not seen her before? What do you think +I paid for her? Four hundred francs. I discovered her a fortnight ago, +between the shafts of a market gardener's cart. She is a treasure. +I assure you she can do sixteen miles an hour, and keep one's hands full +all the time. Just see how she pulls. Come, tot-tot-tot! You are not +in a hurry, Monsieur l'Abbe, I hope. Let us return through the wood; the +fresh air will do you good. Oh! Monsieur l'Abbe, if you only knew what a +regard I have for you, and respect, too. I did not talk too much +nonsense before you just now, did I? I should be so sorry--" + +"No, my child, I heard nothing." + +"Well, we will take the longest way round." + +After having turned to the left in the wood, Paul resumed his +communications. + +"I was saying, Monsieur l'Abbe," he went on, "that you are wrong to take +things so seriously. Shall I tell you what I think? This is a very +fortunate affair." + +"Very fortunate?" + +"Yes, very fortunate. I would rather see the Scotts at Longueval than +the Gallards. Did you not hear Monsieur de Larnac reproach these +Americans with spending their money foolishly. It is never foolish to +spend money. The folly lies in keeping it. Your poor for I am perfectly +sure that it is your poor of whom you are thinking--your poor have made a +good thing of it to-day. That is my opinion. The religion? Well, they +will not go to mass, and that will be a grief to you, that is only +natural; but they will send you money, plenty of money, and you will take +it, and you will be quite right in doing so. You will see that you will +not say no. There will be gold raining over the whole place; a movement, +a bustle, carriages with four horses, postilions, powdered footmen, paper +chases, hunting parties, balls, fireworks, and here in this very spot I +shall perhaps find Paris again before long. I shall see once more the +two riders, and the two little grooms of whom I was speaking just now. +If you only knew how well those two sisters look on horseback! One +morning I went right round the Bois de Boulogne behind them; I fancy I +can see them still. They had high hats, and little black veils drawn +very tightly over their faces, and long riding-habits made in the +princess form, with a single seam right down the back; and a woman must +be awfully well made to wear a riding-habit like that, because you see, +Monsieur l'Abbe, with a habit of that cut no deception is possible." + +For some moments the Cure had not been listening to Paul's discourse. +They had entered a long, perfectly straight avenue, and at the end of +this avenue the Cure saw a horseman galloping along. + +"Look," said the Cure to Paul, "your eyes are better than mine. Is not +that Jean?" + +"Yes, it is jean. I know his gray mare." + +Paul loved horses, and before looking at the rider looked at the horse. +It was indeed Jean, who, when he saw in the distance the Cure and Paul +de Lavardens, waved in the air his kepi adorned with two golden stripes. +Jean was lieutenant in the regiment of artillery quartered at Souvigny. + +Some moments after he stopped by the little carriage, and, addressing the +Cure, said: + +"I have just been to your house, 'mon parrain'. Pauline told me that you +had gone to Souvigny about the sale. Well, who has bought the castle?" + +"An American, Mrs. Scott." + +"And Blanche-Couronne?" + +"The same, Mrs. Scott." + +"And La Rozeraie?" + +"Mrs. Scott again." + +"And the forest? Mrs. Scott again?" + +"You have said it," replied Paul, "and I know Mrs. Scott, and I can +promise you that there will be something going on at Longueval. I will +introduce you. Only it is distressing to Monsieur l'Abbe because she is +an American--a Protestant." + +"Ah! that is true," said Jean, sympathizingly. "However, we will talk +about it to-morrow. I am going to dine with you, godfather; I have +warned Pauline of my visit; no time to stop to-day. I am on duty, and +must be in quarters at three o'clock." + +"Stables?" asked Paul. + +"Yes. Good-by, Paul. To-morrow, godfather." + +The lieutenant galloped away. Paul de Lavardens gave his little horse +her head. + +"What a capital fellow Jean is!" said Paul. + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" + +"There is no one on earth better than Jean." + +"No, no one." + +The Cure turned round to take another look at Jean, who was almost lost +in the depths of the forest. + +"Oh, yes, there is you, Monsieur le Cure." + +"No, not me! not me!" + +"Well, Monsieur 1'Abbe, shall I tell you what I think? I think there is +no one better than you two--you and Jean. That is the truth, if I must +tell you. Oh! what a splendid place for a trot! I shall let Niniche +go; I call her Niniche." + +With the point of his whip Paul caressed the flank of Niniche, who +started off at full speed, and Paul, delighted, cried: + +"Just look at her action, Monsieur l'Abbe! just look at her action! So +regular--just like clockwork. Lean over and look." + +To please Paul de Lavardens the Abbe Constantin did lean over and look at +Niniche's action, but the old priest's thoughts were far away. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE NEW CHATELAINE + +This sub-lieutenant of artillery was called Jean Reynaud. He was the son +of a country doctor who slept in the churchyard of Longueval. + +In 1846, when the Abbe' Constantin took possession of his little living, +the grandfather of Jean was residing in a pleasant cottage on the road to +Souvigny, between the picturesque old castles of Longueval and Lavardens. + +Marcel, the son of that Dr. Reynaud, was finishing his medical studies in +Paris. He possessed great industry, and an elevation of sentiment and +mind extremely rare. He passed his examinations with great distinction, +and had decided to fix his abode in Paris and tempt fortune there, and +everything seemed to promise him the most prosperous and brilliant +career, when, in 1852, he received the news of his father's death--he had +been struck down by a fit of apoplexy. Marcel hurried to Longueval, +overwhelmed with grief, for he adored his father. He spent a month with +his mother, and then spoke of the necessity of returning to Paris. + +"That is true," said his mother; "you must go." + +"What! I must go! We must go, you mean. Do you think that I would +leave you here alone? I shall take you with me." + +"To live in Paris; to leave the place where I was born, where your father +lived, where he died? I could never do it, my child, never! Go alone; +your life, your future, are there. I know you; I know that you will +never forget me, that you will come and see me often, very often." + +"No, mother," he answered; "I shall stay here." + +And he stayed. + +His hopes, his ambitions, all in one moment vanished. He saw only one +thing--duty--the duty of not abandoning his aged mother. In duty, simply +accepted and simply discharged, he found happiness. After all, it is +only thus that one does find happiness. + +Marcel bowed with courage and good grace to his new existence. He +continued his father's life, entering the groove at the very spot where +he had left it. He devoted himself without regret to the obscure career +of a country doctor. His father had left him a little land and a little +money; he lived in the most simple manner possible, and one half of his +life belonged to the poor, from whom he would never receive a penny. + +This was his only luxury. + +He found in his way a young girl, charming, penniless, and alone in the +world. He married her. This was in 1855, and the following year brought +to Dr. Reynaud a great sorrow and a great joy--the death of his old +mother and the birth of his son Jean. + +At an interval of six weeks, the Abby Constantin recited the prayers for +the dead over the grave of the grandmother, and was present in the +position of godfather at the baptism of the grandson. + +In consequence of constantly meeting at the bedside of the suffering and +dying, the priest and the doctor had been strongly attracted to each +other. They instinctively felt that they belonged to the same family, +the same race--the race of the tender, the just, and the benevolent. + +Year followed year--calm, peaceful, fully occupied in labor and duty. +Jean was no longer an infant. His father gave him his first lessons in +reading and writing, the priest his first lessons in Latin. Jean was +intelligent and industrious. He made so much progress that the two +professors--particularly the Cure--found themselves at the end of a few +years rather cast into the shade by their pupil. It was at this moment +that the Countess, after the death of her husband, came to settle at +Lavardens. She brought with her a tutor for her son Paul, a very nice, +but very lazy little fellow. The two children were of the same age; they +had known each other from their earliest years. + +Madame de Lavardens had a great regard for Dr. Reynaud, and one day she +made him the following proposal: + +"Send Jean to me every morning," said she, "I will send him home in the +evening. Paul's tutor is a very accomplished man; he will make the +children work together. It will be rendering me a real service. Jean +will set Paul a good example." + +Things were thus arranged, and the little bourgeois set the little +nobleman a most excellent example of industry and application, but this +excellent example was not followed. + +The war broke out. On November 14th, at seven o'clock in the morning, +the mobiles of Souvigny assembled in the great square of the town; their +chaplain was the Abbe Constantin, their surgeon-major, Dr. Reynaud. The +same idea had come at the same moment to both; the priest was sixty-two, +the doctor fifty. + +When they started, the battalion followed the road which led through +Longueval, and which passed before the doctor's house. Madame Reynaud +and Jean were waiting by the roadside. The child threw himself into his +father's arms. + +"Take me, too, papa! take me, too!" + +Madame Reynaud wept. The doctor held them both in a long embrace, then +he continued his way. + +A hundred steps farther the road made a sharp curve. The doctor turned, +cast one long look at his wife and child-the last; he was never to see +them again. + +On January 8, 1871, the mobiles of Souvigny attacked the village of +Villersexel, occupied by the Prussians, who had barricaded themselves. +The firing began. A mobile who marched in the front rank received a ball +in the chest and fell. There was a short moment of trouble and +hesitation. + +"Forward! forward!" shouted the officers. + +The men passed over the body of their comrade, and under a hail of +bullets entered the town. + +Dr. Reynaud and the Abbe Constantin marched with the troops; they stopped +by the wounded man; the blood was rushing in floods from his mouth. + +"There is nothing to be done," said the doctor. "He is dying; he belongs +to you." + +The priest knelt down by the dying man, and the doctor rose to go toward +the village. He had not taken ten steps when he stopped, beat the air +with both hands, and fell all at once to the ground. The priest ran to +him; he was dead-killed on the spot by a bullet through the temples. +That evening the village was ours, and the next day they placed in the +cemetery of Villersexel the body of Dr. Reynaud. + +Two months later the Abbe Constantin took back to Longueval the coffin of +his friend, and behind the coffin, when it was carried from the church, +walked an orphan. Jean had also lost his mother. At the news of her +husband's death, Madame Reynaud had remained for twenty-four hours +petrified, crushed, without a word or a tear; then fever had seized her, +then delirium, and after a fortnight, death. + +Jean was alone in the world; he was fourteen years old. Of that family, +where for more than a century all had been good and honest, there +remained only a child kneeling beside a grave; but he, too, promised to +be what his father and grandfather before him had been--good, and honest, +and true. + +There are families like that in France, and many of them, more than one +ventures to say. Our poor country is in many respects calumniated by +certain novelists, who draw exaggerated and distorted pictures of it. +It is true the history of good people is often monotonous or painful. +This story is a proof of it. + +The grief of Jean was the grief of a man. He remained long sad and +silent. The evening of his father's funeral the Abbe Constantin took him +home to the vicarage. The day had been rainy and cold. Jean was sitting +by the fireside; the priest was reading his breviary opposite him. Old +Pauline came and went, arranging her affairs. + +An hour passed without a word, when Jean, raising his head, said: + +"Godfather, did my father leave me any money?" + +This question was so extraordinary that the old priest, stupefied, could +scarcely believe that he heard aright. + +"You ask if your father--" + +"I asked if my father left me some money?" + +"Yes; he must have left you some." + +"A good deal, don't you think? I have often heard people say that my +father was rich. Tell me about how much he has left me!" + +"But I don't know. You ask--" + +The poor old man felt his heart rent in twain. Such a question at such a +moment! Yet he thought he knew the boy's heart, and in that heart there +should not be room for such thoughts. + +"Pray, dear godfather, tell me," continued Jean, gently. "I will explain +to you afterward why I ask that." + +"Well, they say your father had 200,000 or 300,000 francs." + +"And is that much?" + +"Yes, it is a great deal." + +"And it is all mine?" + +"Yes, it is all yours." + +"Oh! I am glad, because, you know, the day that my father was killed in +the war, the Prussians killed, at the same time, the son of a poor woman +in Longueval--old Clemence, you know; and they killed, too, the brother +of Rosalie, with whom I used to play when I was quite little. Well, +since I am rich and they are poor, I will divide with Clemence and +Rosalie the money my father has left me." + +On hearing these words the Cure rose, took Jean by both hands, and drew +him into his arms. The white head rested on the fair one. Two large +tears escaped from the eyes of the old priest, rolled slowly down his +cheeks, and were lost in the furrows of his face. + +However, the Cure was obliged to explain to Jean that, though he was his +father's heir, he had not the right of disposing of his heritage as he +would. There would be a family council, and a guardian would be +appointed. + +"You, no doubt, godfather?" + +"No, not I, my child; a priest has not the right of exercising the +functions of a guardian. They will, I think, choose Monsieur Lenient, +the lawyer in Souvigny, who was one of your father's best friends. You +can speak to him and tell him what you wish." + +M. Lenient was eventually appointed guardian, and Jean urged his wishes +so eagerly and touchingly that the lawyer consented to deduct from the +income a sum of 2,400 francs, which, every year till Jean came of age, +was divided between old Clemence and little Rosalie. + +Under these circumstances, Madame de Lavardens was perfect. She went to +the Abbe and said: + +"Give Jean to me, give him to me entirely till he has finished his +studies. I will bring him back to you every year during the holidays. +It is not I who am rendering you a service; it is a service which I ask +of you. I cannot imagine any greater good fortune for my son than to +have Jean for a companion. I must resign myself to leaving Lavardens +for a time. Paul is bent upon being a soldier and going up to Saint-Cyr. +It is only in Paris that I can obtain the necessary masters. I will take +the two children there; they will study together under my own eyes like +brothers, and I will make no difference between them; of that you may be +sure." + +It was difficult to refuse such an offer. The old Cure would have dearly +liked to keep Jean with him, and his heart was torn at the thought of +this separation, but what was for the child's real interest? That was +the only question to be considered; the rest was nothing. They summoned +Jean. + +"My child," said Madame de Lavardens to him, "will you come and live with +Paul and me for some years? I will take you both to Paris." + +"You are very kind, Madame, but I should have liked so much to stay +here." + +He looked at the Cure, who turned away his eyes. + +"Why must we go?" he continued. "Why must you take Paul and me away?" + +"Because it is only in Paris that you can have all the advantages +necessary to complete your studies. Paul will prepare for his +examination at Saint-Cyr. You know he wishes to be a soldier." + +"So do I, Madame. I wish to be one, too." + +"You a soldier!" exclaimed the Cure; "but you know that was not at all +your father's idea. In my presence, he has often spoken of your future, +your career. You were to be a doctor, and, like him, doctor at +Longueval, and, like him, devote yourself to the sick and poor. Jean, +my child, do you remember?" + +"I remember, I remember." + +"Well, then, Jean, you must do as your father wished; it is your duty, +Jean; it is your duty. You must go to Paris. You would like to stay +here, I understand that well, and I should like it, too; but it can not +be. You must go to Paris, and work, work hard. Not that I am anxious +about that; you are your father's true son. You will be an honest and +laborious man. One can not well be the one without the other. And some +day, in your father's house, in the place where he has done so much good, +the poor people of the country round will find another Doctor Reynaud, to +whom they may look for help. And I--if by chance I am still in this +world--when that day comes, I shall be so happy! But I am wrong to speak +of myself; I ought not, I do not count. It is of your father that you +must think. I repeat it, Jean, it was his dearest wish. You can not +have forgotten it." + +"No, I have not forgotten; but if my father sees me, and hears me, I am +certain that he understands and forgives me, for it is on his account." + +"On his account?" + +"Yes. When I heard that he was dead, and when I heard how he died, all +at once, without any need of reflection, I said to myself that I would be +a soldier, and I will be a soldier! Godfather, and you, Madame, I beg +you not to prevent me." + +The child burst into tears--a perfect flood of passionate tears. The +Countess and the Abbe soothed him with gentle words. + +"Yes--yes--it is settled," they said; "anything that you wish, all that +you wish." + +Both had the same thought--leave it to time; Jean is only a child; he +will change his mind. + +In this, both were mistaken; Jean did not change his mind. In the month +of September, 1876, Paul de Lavardens was rejected at Saint-Cyr, and Jean +Reynaud passed eleventh at the Ecole Polytechnique. The day when the +list of the candidates who had passed was published, he wrote to the Abbe +Constantin: + +"I have passed, and passed too well, for I wish to go into the army, and +not the civil service; however, if I keep my place in the school, that +will be the business of one of my comrades; he will have my chance." + +It happened so in the end. Jean Reynaud did better than keep his place; +the pass-list showed his name seventh, but instead of entering 'l'Ecole +des Ponts et Chaussees', he entered the military college at Fontainebleau +in 1878. + +He was then just twenty-one; he was of age, master of his fortune, and +the first act of the new administration was a great, a very great piece +of extravagance. + +He bought for old Clemence and little Rosalie two shares in Government +stock of 1,500 francs each. That cost him 70,000 francs, almost the sum +that Paul de Lavardens, in his first year of liberty in Paris, spent for +Mademoiselle Lise Bruyere, of the Palais Royal Theatre. + +Two years later Jean passed first at the examination, and left +Fontainebleau with the right of choosing among the vacant places. There +was one in the regiment quartered at Souvigny, and Souvigny was three +miles from Longueval. Jean asked for this, and obtained it. + +Thus Jean Reynaud, lieutenant in the ninth regiment of artillery, came in +the month of October, 1880, to take possession of the house that had been +his father's; thus he found himself once more in the place where his +childhood had passed, and where every one had kept green the memory of +the life and death of his father; thus the Abbe Constantin was not denied +the happiness of once again having near him the son of his old friend, +and, if the truth must be told, he no longer wished that Jean had become +a doctor. + +When the old Cure left his church after saying mass, when he saw coming +along the road a great cloud of dust, when he felt the earth tremble +under the rumbling cannon, he would stop, and, like a child, amuse +himself with seeing the regiment pass, but to him the regiment was--Jean. +It was this robust and manly cavalier, in whose face, as in an open book, +one read uprightness, courage, and goodness. + +The moment Jean perceived the Cure, he would put his horse to a gallop, +and go to have a little chat with his godfather. The horse would turn +his head toward the Cure, for he knew very well there was always a piece +of sugar for him in the pocket of that old black soutane--rusty and worn- +-the morning soutane. The Abbe Constantin had a beautiful new one, of +which he took great care, to wear in society--when he went into society. + +The trumpets of the regiment sounded as they passed through the village, +and all eyes sought Jean--"little Jean"-for to the old people of +Longueval he was still little Jean. Certain wrinkled, broken-down, old +peasants had never been able to break themselves of the habit of saluting +him when he passed with, "Bonjour, gamin, ca va bien?" + +He was six feet high, this gamin, and Jean never crossed the village +without perceiving at one window the old furrowed parchment skin of +Clemence, and at another the smiling countenance of Rosalie. The latter +had married during the previous year; Jean had given her away, and +joyously on the wedding-night had he danced with the girls of Longueval. + +Such was the lieutenant of artillery, who, on Saturday, May 28, 1881, at +half-past four in the afternoon, sprang from his horse before the door of +the vicarage of Longueval. He entered the gate, the horse obediently +followed, and went by himself into a little shed in the yard. Pauline +was at the kitchen window; Jean approached and kissed her heartily on +both cheeks. + +"Good-evening, Pauline. Is all well?" + +"Very well. I am busy preparing your dinner; would you like to know what +you are going to have? potato soup, a leg of mutton, and a custard." + +"That is excellent; I shall enjoy everything, for I am dying of hunger." + +"And a salad; I had forgotten it; you can help me cut it directly. +Dinner will be at half-past six exactly, for at half-past seven Monsieur +le Cure has his service for the month of Mary." + +"Where is my godfather?" + +"You will find him in the garden. He is very sad on account of this sale +of yesterday." + +"Yes, I know, I know." + +"It will cheer him a little to see you; he is always so happy when you +are here. Take care; Loulou is going to eat the climbing roses. How hot +he is!" + +"I came the long way by the wood, and rode very fast." + +Jean captured Loulou, who was directing his steps toward the climbing +roses. He unsaddled him, fastened him in the little shed, rubbed him +down with a great handful of straw, after which he entered the house, +relieved himself of his sword and kepi, replaced the latter by an old +straw hat, value sixpence, and then went to look for his godfather in the +garden. + +The poor Abbe was indeed sad; he had scarcely closed an eye all night-- +he who generally slept so easily, so quietly, the sound sleep of a child. +His soul was wrung. Longueval in the hands of a foreigner, of a heretic, +of an adventuress! + +Jean repeated what Paul had said the evening before. + +"You will have money, plenty of money, for your poor." + +"Money! money! Yes, my poor will not lose, perhaps they will even gain +by it; but I must go and ask for this money, and in the salon, instead of +my old and dear friend, I shall find this red-haired American. It seems +that she has red hair! I will certainly go for the sake of my poor--I +will go--and she will give me the money, but she will give me nothing but +money; the Marquise gave me something else--her life and her heart. +Every week we went together to visit the sick and the poor; she knew all +the sufferings and the miseries of the country round, and when the gout +nailed me to my easy-chair she made the rounds alone, and as well, or +better than I." + +Pauline interrupted this conversation. She carried an immense +earthenware salad-dish, on which bloomed, violent and startling, enormous +red flowers. + +"Here I am," said Pauline, "I am going to cut the salad. Jean, would you +like lettuce or endive?" + +"Endive," said Jean, gayly. "It is a long time since I have had any +endive." + +"Well, you shall have some to-night. Stay, take the dish." + +Pauline began to cut the endive, and Jean bent down to receive the leaves +in the great salad dish. The Cure looked on. + +At this moment a sound of little bells was heard. A carriage was +approaching; one heard the jangling and creaking of its wheels. The +Cure's little garden was only separated from the road by a low hedge, in +the middle of which was a little trellised gate. + +All three looked out, and saw driving down the road a hired carriage of +most primitive construction, drawn by two great white horses, and driven +by an old coachman in a blouse. Beside this old coachman was seated a +tall footman in livery, of the most severe and correct demeanor. In the +carriage were two young women, dressed both alike in very elegant, but +very simple, travelling costumes. + +When the carriage was opposite the gate the coachman stopped his horses, +and addressing the Abbe: + +"Monsieur le Cure," said he, "these ladies wish to speak to you." + +Then, turning toward the ladies: + +"This is Monsieur le Cure of Longueval." + +The Abbe Constantin approached and opened the little gate. The +travellers alighted. Their looks rested, not without astonishment, on +the young officer, who stood there, a little embarrassed, with his straw +hat in one hand, and his salad dish, all overflowing with endive, in the +other. + +The visitors entered the garden, and the elder--she seemed about twenty- +five--addressing the Abbe Constantin, said to him, with a little foreign +accent, very original and very peculiar: + +"I am obliged to introduce myself---Mrs. Scott; I am Mrs. Scott! It was +I who bought the castle and farms and all the rest here at the sale +yesterday. I hope that I do not disturb you, and that you can spare me +five minutes." Then, pointing to her travelling companion, "Miss Bettina +Percival, my sister; you guessed it, I am sure. We are very much alike, +are we not? Ah! Bettina, we have left our bags in the carriage, and we +shall want them directly." + +"I will get them." + +And as Miss Percival prepared to go for the two little bags, Jean said to +her: + +"Pray allow me." + +"I am really very sorry to give you so much trouble. The servant will +give them to you; they are on the front seat." + +She had the same accent as her sister, the same large eyes--black, +laughing, and gay-and the same hair, not red, but fair, with golden +shades, where daintily danced the light of the sun. She bowed to Jean +with a pretty little smile, and he, having returned to Pauline the salad +dish full of endive, went to look for the two little bags. Meanwhile- +much agitated, sorely disturbed--the Abbe Constantin introduced into his +vicarage the new Chatelaine of Longueval. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DELIGHTFUL SURPRISES + +This vicarage of Longueval was far from being a palace. The same +apartment on the ground floor served for dining and drawing-room, +communicating directly with the kitchen by a door, which stood always +wide open. This room was furnished in the most scanty manner; two old +arm chairs, six straw chairs, a sideboard, a round table. Pauline had +already laid the cloth for the dinner of the Abbe and Jean. + +Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival went and came, examining the domestic +arrangements of the Cure with a sort of childish wonder. + +"But the garden, the house, everything is charming," said Mrs. Scott. + +They both boldly penetrated into the kitchen; the Abbe Constantin +followed them, scared, bewildered, stupefied at the suddenness and +resolution of this American invasion. + +Old Pauline, with an anxious and gloomy air, examined the two foreigners. + +"There they are, then," she said to herself, "these Protestants, these +accursed heretics!" + +"I must compliment you," said Bettina; "it is so beautifully kept. Look, +Susie, is not the vicarage altogether exactly what you wished?" + +"And so is the Cure," rejoined Mrs. Scott. "Yes, Monsieur le Cure, +if you will permit me to say so, you do not know how happy it makes me +to find you just what you are. In the railway carriage what did I say +to you, Bettina? And again just now, when we were driving here?" + +"My sister said to me, Monsieur le Cure, that what she desired above +everything was a priest, not young, or melancholy, or severe; but one +with white hair and a kind and gentle manner. And that is exactly what +you are, Monsieur le Cure, exactly. No, we could not have been more +fortunate. Excuse me for speaking to you in this manner; the Parisians +know how to make pretty phrases, but I do not, and in speaking French I +should often be quite at a loss if I did not say everything in a simple +and childish way, as it comes into my head. In a word, I am satisfied, +quite satisfied, and I hope that you, too, Monsieur le Cure, will be as +satisfied with your new parishioners." + +"My parishioners!" exclaimed the Cure, all at once recovering speech, +movement, life, everything which for some moments had completely +abandoned him. "My parishioners! Pardon me, Madame, Mademoiselle, I am +so agitated. You will be--you are Catholics?" + +"Certainly we are Catholics." + +"Catholics! Catholics!" repeated the Cure. + +"Catholics! Catholics!" echoed old Pauline. + +Mrs. Scott looked from the Cure to Pauline, from Pauline to the Cure, +much surprised that a single word should produce such an effect, and, to +complete the tableau, Jean appeared carrying the two little travelling +bags. + +The Cure and Pauline saluted him with the same words: + +"Catholics! Catholics!" + +"Ah! I begin to understand," said Mrs. Scott, laughing. "It is our +name, our country; you must have thought that we were Protestants. +Not at all. Our mother was a Canadian, French and Catholic by descent; +that is why my sister and I both speak French, with an accent, it is +true, and with certain American idioms, but yet in such a manner as to be +able to express nearly all we want to say. My husband is a Protestant, +but he allows me complete liberty, and my two children are Catholics. +That is why, Monsieur l'Abbe, we wished to come and see you the very +first day." + +"That is one reason," continued Bettina, "but there is also another; but +for that reason we shall want our little bags." + +"Here they are," said Jean. + +While the two little bags passed from the hands of the officer to those +of Mrs. Scott and Bettina, the Cure introduced Jean to the two Americans, +but his agitation was so great that the introduction was not made +strictly according to rule. The Cure only forgot one thing, it is true, +but that was a thing tolerably essential in an introduction--the family +name of Jean. + +"It is Jean," said he, "my godson, lieutenant of artillery, now quartered +at Souvigny. He is one of the family." + +Jean made two deep bows, the Americans two little ones, after which they +foraged in their bags, from which each drew a 'rouleau' of 1,000 francs, +daintily inclosed in green sheaths of serpent-skin, clasped with gold. + +"I have brought you this for your poor," said Mrs. Scott. + +"And I have brought this," said Bettina. + +"And besides that, Monsieur le Cure, I am going to give you five hundred +francs a month," said Mrs. Scott. + +"And I will do like my sister." + +Delicately they slipped their offerings into the right and left hands of +the Cure, who, looking at each hand alternately, said: + +"What are these little things? They are very heavy; there must be money +in them. Yes, but how much, how much?" + +The Abbe Constantin was seventy-two, and much money had passed through +his hands, but this money had come to him in small sums, and the idea of +such an offering as this had never entered his head. Two thousand +francs! Never had he had so much in his possession--no, not even one +thousand. He stammered: + +"I am very grateful to you, Madame; you are very good, Mademoiselle--" + +But after all he could not thank them enough, and Jean thought it +necessary to come to his assistance. + +"They have given you two thousand francs!" + +And then, full of warmest gratitude; the Cure cried: + +"Two thousand francs! Two thousand francs for my poor!" + +Pauline suddenly reappeared. + +"Here, Pauline," said the Cure, "put away this money, and take care--" + +Old Pauline filled many positions in this simple household: cook, maid- +of-all-work, treasurer, dispenser. Her hands received with a respectful +tremble these two little 'rouleaux' which represented so much misery +alleviated, so much suffering relieved. + +"One thousand francs a month! But there will be no poor left in the +country." + +"That is just what I wish. I am rich, very rich, and so is my sister; +she is even richer than I am, because a young girl has not so many +expenses, while I--Ah! well, I spend all that I can--all that I can. +When one has a great deal of money, too much, more than one feels to be +just, tell me, Monsieur le Cure, is there any other way of obtaining +pardon than to keep one's hands open, and give, give, give, all one can, +and as usefully as one can? Besides, you can give me something in +return;" and, turning to Pauline, "Will you be so kind as to give me a +glass of water? No, nothing else; a glass of cold water; I am dying of +thirst." + +"And I," said Bettina, laughing, while Pauline ran to fetch the water, +"I am dying of something else-of hunger, to tell the truth. Monsieur le +Cure--I know that I am going to be dreadfully intrusive; I see your cloth +is laid--could you not invite us to dinner?" + +"Bettina!" said Mrs. Scott. + +"Let me alone, Susie, let me alone. Won't you, Monsieur le Cure? I am +sure you will." + +But he could find no reply. The old Cure hardly knew where he was. They +had taken his vicarage by storm; they were Catholics; they had promised +him one thousand francs a month, and now they wanted to dine with him. +Ah! that was the last stroke. Terror seized him at the thought of +having to do the honors of his leg of mutton and his custard to these two +absurdly rich Americans. He murmured: + +"Dine!-you would like to dine here?" + +Jean thought he must interpose again. "It would be a great pleasure to +my godfather," said he, "if you would kindly stay. But I know what +disturbs him. We were going to dine together, just the two of us, and +you must not expect a feast. You will be very indulgent?" + +"Yes, yes, very indulgent," replied Bettina; then, addressing her sister, +"Come, Susie, you must not be cross, because I have been a little--you +know it is my way to be a little-- Let us stay, will you? It will do us +good to pass a quiet hour here, after such a day as we have had! On the +railway, in the carriage, in the heat, in the dust; we had such a horrid +luncheon, in such a horrid hotel. We were to have returned to the same +hotel at seven o'clock to dine, and then take the train back to Paris, +but dinner here will be really much nicer. You won't say no? Ah! how +good you are, Susie! " + +She embraced her sister fondly; then turning toward the Cure: + +"If you only knew, Monsieur le Cure, how good she is!" + +"Bettina! Bettina!" + +"Come," said Jean, "quick, Pauline, two more plates; I will help you." + +"And so will I," said Bettina, "I will help, too. Oh! do let me; it will +be so amusing. Monsieur le Cure, you will let me do a little as if I +were at home?" + +In a moment she had taken off her mantle, and Jean could admire, in all +its exquisite perfection, a figure marvellous for suppleness and grace. +Miss Percival then removed her hat, but with a little too much haste, for +this was the signal for a charming catastrophe. A whole avalanche +descended in torrents, in long cascades, over Bettina's shoulders. She +was standing before a window flooded by the rays of the sun, and this +golden light, falling full on this golden hair, formed a delicious frame +for the sparkling beauty of the young girl. Confused and blushing, +Bettina was obliged to call her sister to her aid, and Mrs. Scott had +much trouble in introducing order into this disorder. + +When this disaster was at length repaired, nothing could prevent Bettina +from rushing on plates, knives, and forks. + +"Oh, indeed," said she to Jean, "I know very well how to lay the cloth. +Ask my sister. Tell him, Susie, when I was a little girl in New York, I +used to lay the cloth very well, didn't I?" + +"Very well, indeed," said Mrs. Scott. + +And then, while begging the Cure to excuse Bettina's want of thought, +she, too, took off her hat and mantle, so that Jean had again the very +agreeable spectacle of a charming figure and beautiful hair; but, to +Jean's great regret, the catastrophe had not a second representation. + +In a few minutes Mrs. Scott, Miss Percival, the Cure, and Jean were +seated round the little vicarage table; then, thanks partly to the +impromptu and original nature of the entertainment, partly to the good- +humor and perhaps slightly audacious gayety of Bettina, the conversation +took a turn of the frankest and most cordial familiarity. + +"Now, Monsieur le Cure," said Bettina, "you shall see if I did not speak +the truth when I said I was dying of hunger. I never was so glad to sit +down to dinner. This is such a delightful finish to our day. Both my +sister and I are perfectly happy now we have this castle, and these +farms, and the forest." + +"And then," said Mrs. Scott, "to have all that in such an extraordinary +and unexpected manner. We were so taken by surprise." + +"You may indeed say so, Susie. You must know, Monsieur l'Abbe, that +yesterday was my sister's birthday. But first, pardon me, Monsieur-- +Jean, is it not?" + +"Yes, Miss Percival, Monsieur Jean." + +"Well, Monsieur Jean, a little more of that excellent soup, if you +please." + +The Abbe was beginning to recover a little, but he was still too agitated +to perform the duties of a host. It was Jean who had undertaken the +management of his godfather's little dinner. He filled the plate of the +charming American, who fixed upon him the glance of two large eyes, +in which sparkled frankness, daring, and gayety. The eyes of Jean, +meanwhile, repaid Miss Percival in the same coin. It was scarcely three +quarters of an hour since the young American and the young officer had +made acquaintance in the Cure's garden, yet both felt already perfectly +at ease with each other, full of confidence, almost like old friends. + +"I told you, Monsieur l'Abbe," continued Bettina, "that yesterday was my +sister's birthday. A week ago my brother-in-law was obliged to return to +America, but at starting he said to my sister, 'I shall not be with you +on your birthday, but you will hear from me.' So, yesterday, presents +and bouquets arrived from all quarters, but from my brother-in-law, up to +five o'clock, nothing--nothing. We were just starting for a ride in the +Bois, and 'a propos' of riding"--she stopped, and looking curiously at +Jean's great dusty boots--" Monsieur Jean, you have spurs on." + +"Yes, Miss Percival." + +"Then you are in the cavalry?" + +"I am in the artillery, and that, you know, is cavalry." + +"And your regiment is quartered?"--- + +"Quite near here." + +"Then you will be able to ride with us?" + +"With the greatest pleasure." + +"That is settled. Let me see; where was I?" + +"You do not know at all where you are, Bettina, and you are telling these +gentlemen things which can not interest them." + +"Oh! I beg your pardon," said the Cure. "The sale of this estate is the +only subject of conversation in the neighborhood just now, and Miss +Percival's account interests me very much." + +"You see, Susie, my account interests Monsieur le Cure very much; then I +shall continue. We went for our ride, we returned at seven o'clock-- +nothing. We dined, and just when we were leaving the table a telegram +from America arrived. It contained only a few lines: + +"'I have ordered the purchase to-day, for you and in your name, of the +castle and lands of Longueval, near Souvigny, on the Northern Railway +line.' + +"Then we both burst into a fit of wild laughter at the thought." + +"No, no, Bettina; you calumniate us both. Our first thought was one of +very sincere gratitude, for both my sister and I are very fond of the +country. My husband knows that we had longed to have an estate in +France. For six months he had been looking out, and found nothing. At +last he discovered this one, and, without telling us, ordered it to be +bought for my birthday. It was a delicate attention." + +"Yes, Susie, you are right, but after the little fit of gratitude, we had +a great one of gayety." + +"Yes, I confess it. When we realized that we had suddenly become +possessed of a castle, without knowing in the least where it was, what it +was like, or how much it had cost, it seemed so like a fairy-tale. Well, +for five good minutes we laughed with all our hearts, then we seized the +map of France, and succeeded in discovering Souvigny. When he had +finished with the map it was the turn of the railway guide, and this +morning, by the ten o'clock express, we arrived at Souvigny. + +"We have passed the whole day in visiting the castle, the farms, the +woods, the stables. We are delighted with what we have seen. Only, +Monsieur le Cure, there is one thing about which I feel curious. I know +that the place was sold yesterday; but I have not dared to ask either +agent or farmer who accompanied me in my walk--for my ignorance would +have seemed too absurd--I have not dared to ask how much it cost. In the +telegram my husband does not mention the sum. Since I am so delighted +with the place, the price is only a detail, but still I should like to +know it. Tell me, Monsieur le Cure, do you know what it cost?" + +"An enormous price," replied the Cure, "for many hopes and many ambitions +were excited about Longueval." + +"An enormous price! You frighten me. How much exactly?" + +"Three millions!" + +"Is that all? Is that all?" cried Mrs. Scott. "The castle, the farms, +the forest, all for three millions?" + +"But that is nothing," said Bettina. "That delicious little stream which +wanders through the park is alone worth three millions." + +"And you said just now, Monsieur le Cure, that there were several persons +who disputed the purchase with us?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Scott." + +"And, after the sale, was my name mentioned among these persons?" + +"Certainly it was." + +"And when my name was mentioned was there no one there who spoke of me? +Yes, yes, your silence is a sufficient answer; they did speak of me. +Well, Monsieur le Cure, I am now serious, very serious. I beg you as a +favor to tell me what was said." + +"But," replied the poor Cure, who felt himself upon burning coals, "they +spoke of your large fortune." + +"Yes, of course, they would be obliged to speak of that, and no doubt +they said that I was very rich, but had not been rich long--that I was a +parvenu. Very well, but that is not all; they must have said something +else." + +"No, indeed; I have heard nothing else." + +"Oh, Monsieur le Cure, that is what you may call a white lie, and it is +making you very unhappy, because naturally you are the soul of truth; +but if I torment you thus it is because I have the greatest interest in +knowing what was said." + +"You are right," interrupted Jean, "you are right. They said you were +one of the most elegant, the most brilliant, and the--" + +"And one of the prettiest women in Paris. With a little indulgence they +might say that; but that is not all yet--there is something else." + +"Oh! I assure you--" + +"Yes, there is something else, and I should like to hear it this very +moment, and I should like the information to be very frank and very +exact. It seems to me that I am in a lucky vein to-day, and I feel as if +you were both a little inclined to be my friends, and that you will be so +entirely some day. Well, tell me if I am right in supposing that should +false and absurd stories be told about me you will help me to contradict +them." + +"Yes!" replied Jean, "you are right in believing that." + +"Well, then, it is to you that I address myself. You are a soldier, and +courage is part of your profession. Promise me to be brave. Will you +promise me?" + +"What do you understand by being brave?" + +"Promise, promise--without explanations, without conditions." + +"Well, I promise." + +"You will then reply frankly, 'Yes' or 'No,' to questions?" + +"I will." + +"Did they say that I had begged in the streets of New York?" + +"Yes, they said so." + +"Did they say I had been a rider in a travelling circus?" + +"Yes; they said that, too." + +"Very well; that is plain speaking. Now remark first that in all this +there is nothing that one might not acknowledge if it were true; but it +is not true, and have I not the right of denying it? My history--I will +tell it you in a few words. I am going to pass a part of my life in this +place, and I desire that all should know who I am and whence I come. +To begin, then. Poor! Yes, I have been, and very poor. Eight years ago +my father died, and was soon followed by my mother. I was then eighteen, +and Bettina nine. We were alone in the world, encumbered with heavy +debts and a great lawsuit. My father's last words had been, 'Susie, +never, never compromise. Millions, my children, you will have millions.' +He embraced us both; soon delirium seized him, and he died repeating, +'Millions; millions!' The next morning a lawyer appeared, who offered to +pay all our debts, and to give us besides ten thousand dollars, if we +would give up all our claims. I refused. It was then that for several +months we were very poor." + +"And it was then," said Bettina, "that I used to lay the cloth." + +"I spent my life among the solicitors of New York, but no one would take +up my case; everywhere I received the same reply: 'Your cause is very +doubtful; you have rich and formidable adversaries; you need money, large +sums of money, to bring such a case to a conclusion, and you have +nothing. They offer to pay your debts, and to give you ten thousand +dollars besides. Accept it, and sell your case.' But my father's last +words rang in my ears, and I would not. Poverty, however, might soon +have forced me to, when one day I made another attempt on one of my +father's old friends, a banker in New York, Mr. William Scott. He was +not alone; a young man was sitting in his office. + +"'You may speak freely,' said Mr. Scott; 'it is my son Richard.' + +"I looked at the young man, he looked at me, and we recognized each +other. + +"'Susie!' + +"'Richard!" + +"Formerly, as children, we had often played together and were great +friends. Seven or eight years before this meeting he had been sent to +Europe to finish his education. We shook hands; his father made me sit +down, and asked what had brought me. He listened to my tale; and +replied: + +"'You would require twenty or thirty thousand dollars. No one would lend +you such a sum upon the uncertain chances of a very complicated lawsuit. +If you are in difficulties; if you need assistance--' + +"'It is not that, father. That is not what Miss Percival asks.' + +"'I know that very well, but what she asks is impossible.' + +"He rose to let me out. Then the sense of my helplessness overpowered me +for the first time since my father's death. I burst into a violent flood +of tears. An hour later Richard Scott was with me. + +"'Susie,' he said, 'promise to accept what I am going to offer.' + +"I promised him. + +"'Well,' said he, 'on the single condition that my father shall know +nothing about it, I place at your disposal the necessary sum.' + +"'But then you ought to know what the lawsuit is--what it is worth.' + +"'I do not know a single word about it, and I do not wish to. Besides, +you have promised to accept it; you can not withdraw now.' + +"I accepted. Three months after the case was ours. All this vast +property became beyond dispute the property of Bettina and me. The other +side offered to buy it of us for five million dollars. I consulted +Richard. + +"'Refuse it and wait,' said he; 'if they offer you such a sum it is +because the property is worth double.' + +"'However, I must return you your money; I owe you a great deal.' + +"'Oh! as for that there is no hurry; I am very easy about it; my money +is quite safe now.' + +"'But I should like to pay you at once. I have a horror of debt! +Perhaps there is another way without selling the property. Richard, will +you be my husband?' + +"Yes, Monsieur le Cure, yes," said Mrs. Scott, laughing, "it is thus that +I threw myself at my husband's head. It is I who asked his hand. But +really I was obliged to act thus. Never, never, would he have spoken; I +had become too rich, and as it was me he loved, and not my money, he was +becoming terribly afraid of me. That is the history of my marriage. As +to the history of my fortune, it can be told in a few words. There were +indeed millions in those wide lands of Colorado; they discovered there +abundant mines of silver, and from those mines we draw every year an +income which is beyond reason, but we have agreed--my husband, my sister, +and myself--to give a very large share of this income to the poor. You +see, Monsieur le Cure, it is because we have known very hard times that +you will always find us ready to help those who are, as we have been +ourselves, involved in the difficulties and sorrows of life. And now, +Monsieur Jean, will you forgive me this long discourse, and offer me a +little of that cream, which looks so very good?" + +This cream was Pauline's custard, and while Jean was serving Mrs. Scott: + +"I have not yet finished," she continued. "You ought to know what gave +rise to these extravagant stories. A year ago, when we settled in Paris, +we considered it our duty on our arrival to give a certain sum to the +poor. Who was it spoke of that? None of us, certainly, but the thing +was told in a newspaper, with the amount. Immediately two young +reporters hastened to subject Mr. Scott to a little examination on his +past history; they wished to give a sketch of our career in the--what do +you call them?--society papers. Mr. Scott is sometimes a little hasty; +he was so on this occasion, and dismissed these gentlemen rather +brusquely, without telling them anything. So, as they did not know our +real history, they invented one, and certainly displayed a very lively +imagination. First they related how I had begged in the snow in New +York; the next day appeared a still more sensational article, which made +me a rider in a circus in Philadelphia. You have some very funny papers +in France; so have we in America, for the matter of that." + +During the last five minutes, Pauline had been making desperate signs to +the Cure, who persisted in not understanding them, till at last the poor +woman, calling up all her courage, said: + +"Monsieur le Cure, it is a quarter past seven." + +"A quarter past seven! Ladies, I must beg you to excuse me. This +evening I have the special service for the month of Mary." + +"The month of Mary? And will the service begin directly?" + +"Yes, directly." + +"And when does our train start for Paris?" + +"At half past nine," replied Jean. + +"Susie, can we not go to church first?" + +"Yes, we will go," replied Mrs. Scott; "but before we separate, Monsieur +le Cure, I have one favor to ask you. I should like very much, the first +time I dine at Longueval, that you would dine with me, and you, too, +Monsieur Jean, just us four alone like to-day. Oh! do not refuse my +invitation; it is given with all my heart." + +"And accepted as heartily," replied Jean. + +"I will write and tell you the day, and it shall be as soon as possible. +You call that having a housewarming, don't you? Well, we shall have the +house-warming all to ourselves." + +Meanwhile, Pauline had drawn Miss Percival into a corner of the room, and +was talking to her with great animation. The conversation ended with +these words: + +"You will be there?" said Bettina, "and you will tell me the exact +moment?" + +"I will tell you, but take care. Here is Monsieur le Cure; he must not +suspect anything." + +The two sisters, the Cure, and Jean left the house. To go to the church +they were obliged to cross the churchyard. The evening was delicious. +Slowly, silently, under the rays of the setting sun, the four walked down +a long avenue. + +On their way was the monument to Dr. Reynaud, very simple, but which, by +its fine proportions, showed distinctly among the other tombs. + +Mrs. Scott and Bettina stopped, struck with this inscription carved on +the stone: + +"Here lies Dr. Marcel Reynaud, Surgeon-Major of the Souvigny Mobiles; +killed January 8, 1871, at the Battle of Villersexel. Pray for him." + +When they had read it, the Cure, pointing to Jean, said:. + +"It was his father!" + +The two sisters drew near the tomb, and with bent heads remained there +for some minutes, pensive, touched, contemplative. Then both turned, and +at the same moment, by the same impulse, offered their hands to Jean; +then continued their walk to the church. Their first prayer at Longueval +had been for the father of Jean. + +The Cure went to put on his surplice and stole. Jean conducted Mrs. +Scott to the seat which belonged to the masters of Longueval. + +Pauline had gone on before. She was waiting for Miss Percival in the +shadow behind one of the pillars. By a steep and narrow staircase, she +led Bettina to the gallery, and placed her before the harmonium. + +Preceded by two little chorister boys, the old Cure left the vestry, and +at the moment when he knelt on the steps of the alter: + +"Now! Mademoiselle," said Pauline, whose heart beat with impatience. +"Poor, dear man, how pleased he will be." + +When he heard the sound of the music rise, soft as a murmur, and spread +through the little church, the Abbe Constantin was filled with such +emotion, such joy, that the tears came to his eyes. He could not +remember having wept since the day when Jean had said that he wished to +share all that he possessed with the mother and sister of those who had +fallen by his father's side under the Prussian bullets. + +To bring tears to the eyes of the old priest, a little American had been +brought across the seas to play a reverie of Chopin in the little church +of Longueval. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by time +And they are shoulders which ought to be seen +But she will give me nothing but money +Duty, simply accepted and simply discharged +God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sake +He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied +If there is one! (a paradise) +Never foolish to spend money. The folly lies in keeping it +Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighter +One half of his life belonged to the poor +Succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness +The history of good people is often monotonous or painful +The women have enough religion for the men + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Abbe Constantin, v1 +by Ludovic Halevy + + + + + + +THE ABBE CONSTANTIN + +By LUDOVIC HALEVY + + + +BOOK 2. + + +CHAPTER IV + +A RIOT OF CHARITY + +The next day, at half-past five in the morning, the bugle-call rang +through the barrack-yard at Souvigny. Jean mounted his horse, and took +his place with his division. By the end of May all the recruits in the +army are sufficiently instructed to be capable of sharing in the general +evolutions. Almost every day manoeuvres of the mounted artillery are +executed on the parade-ground. Jean loved his profession; he was in the +habit of inspecting carefully the grooming and harness of the horses, the +equipment and carriage of his men. This morning, however, he bestowed +but scant attention on all the little details of his duty. + +One problem agitated, tormented him, and left him always undecided, and +this problem was one of those the solution of which is not given at the +Ecole Polytechnique. Jean could find no convincing reply to this +question: Which of the two sisters is the prettier? + +At the butts, during the first part of the manoeuvre, each battery worked +on its own account, under the orders of the captain; but he often +relinquished the place to one of his lieutenants, in order to accustom +them to the management of six field-pieces. It happened on this day that +the command was intrusted to the hands of Jean. To the great surprise of +the Captain, in whose estimation his Lieutenant held the first rank as a +well-trained, smart, and capable officer, everything went wrong. The +Captain was obliged to interfere; he addressed a little reprimand to +Jean, which terminated in these words: + +"I can not understand it at all. What is the matter with you this +morning? It is the first time such a thing has happened with you." + +It was also the first time that Jean had seen anything at the butts at +Souvigny but cannon, ammunition wagons, horses, or gunners. + +In the clouds of dust raised by the wheels of the wagons and the hoofs of +the horses Jean beheld, not the second mounted battery of the 9th +Regiment of artillery, but the distinct images of two Americans with +black eyes and golden hair; and, at the moment when he listened +respectfully to the well-merited lecture from his Captain, he was in the +act of saying to himself: + +"The prettier is Mrs. Scott!" + +Every morning the exercise is divided into two parts by a little interval +of ten minutes. The officers gathered together and talked; Jean remained +apart, alone with his recollections of the previous evening. His +thoughts obstinately gathered round the vicarage of Longueval. + +"Yes! the more charming of the two sisters is Mrs. Scott; Miss Percival +is only a child." + +He saw again Mrs. Scott at the Cure's little table. He heard her story +told with such frankness, such freedom. The harmony of that very +peculiar, very fascinating voice, still enchanted his ear. He was again +in the church; she was there before him, bending over her prie-Dieu, her +pretty head resting in her two little hands; then the music arose, and +far off, in the dusk, Jean perceived the fine and delicate profile of +Bettina. + +"A child--is she only a child?" + +The trumpets sounded, the practice was resumed; this time, fortunately, +no command, no responsibility. The four batteries executed their +evolutions together; this immense mass of men, horses, and carriages, +deployed in every direction, now drawn out in a long line, again +collected into a compact group. All stopped at the same instant along +the whole extent of the ground; the gunners sprang from their horses, ran +to their pieces, detached each from its team, which went off at a trot +and prepared to fire with amazing rapidity. Then the horses returned, +the men re-attached their pieces; sprang quickly to saddle, and the +regiment started at full gallop across the field. + +Very gently in the thoughts of Jean Bettina regained her advantage over +Mrs. Scott. She appeared to him smiling and blushing amid the sunlit +clouds of her floating hair. Monsieur Jean, she had called him, Monsieur +Jean, and never had his name sounded so sweet. And that last pressure of +the hand on taking leave, before entering the carriage. Had not Miss +Percival given him a more cordial clasp than Mrs. Scott had done? Yes, +positively a little more. + +"I was mistaken," thought Jean; "the prettier is Miss Percival." + +The day's work was finished; the pieces were ranged regularly in line one +behind the other; they defiled rapidly, with a horrible clatter, and in a +cloud of dust. When Jean, sword in hand, passed before his Colonel, the +images of the two sisters were so confused and intermingled in his +recollection that they melted the one in the other, and became in some +measure the image of one and the same person. Any parallel became +impossible between them, thanks to this singular confusion of the two +points of comparison. Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival remained thus +inseparable in the thoughts of Jean until the day when it was granted to +him to see them again. The impression of that meeting was not effaced; +it was always there, persistent, and very sweet, till Jean began to feel +disturbed. + +"Is it possible"--so ran his meditations--"is it possible that I have +been guilty of the folly of falling in love madly at first sight? No; +one might fall in love with a woman, but not with two women at once." + +That thought reassured him. He was very young, this great fellow of +four-and-twenty; never had love entered fully into his heart. Love! +He knew very little about it, except from books, and he had read but few +of them. But he was no angel; he could find plenty of attractions in the +grisettes of Souvigny, and when they would allow him to tell them that +they were charming, he was quite ready to do so, but it had never entered +his head to regard as love those passing fancies, which only caused the +slightest and most superficial disturbance in his heart. + +Paul de Lavardens had marvellous powers of enthusiasm and idealization. +His heart sheltered always two or three grandes passions, which lived +there in perfect harmony. Paul had been so clever as to discover, in +this little town of 15,000 souls, numbers of pretty girls, all made to be +adored. He always believed himself the discoverer of America, when, in +fact, he had done nothing but follow in the track of other navigators. + +The world-Jean had scarcely encountered it. He had allowed himself to be +dragged by Paul, a dozen times, perhaps, to soirees or balls at the great +houses of the neighborhood. He had invariably returned thoroughly bored, +and had concluded that these pleasures were not made for him. His tastes +were simple, serious. He loved solitude, work, long walks, open space, +horses, and books. He was rather savage--a son of the soil. He loved +his village, and all the old friends of his childhood. A quadrille in a +drawing-room caused him unspeakable terror; but every year, at the +festival of the patron saint of Longueval, he danced gayly with the young +girls and farmers' daughters of the neighborhood. + +If he had seen Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival at home in Paris, in all +the splendor of their luxury, in all the perfection of their costly +surroundings, he would have looked at them from afar, with curiosity, +as exquisite works of art. Then he would have returned home, and would +have slept, as usual, the most peaceful slumber in the world. + +Yes, but it was not thus that the thing had come to pass, and hence his +excitement, hence his disturbance. These two women had shown themselves +before him in the midst of a circle with which he was familiar, and which +had been, if only for this reason, singularly favorable to them. Simple, +good, frank, cordial, such they had shown themselves the very first day, +and delightfully pretty into the bargain--a fact which is never +insignificant. Jean fell at once under the charm; he was there still! + +At the moment when he dismounted in the barrack-yard, at nine o'clock, +the old priest began his campaign joyously. Since the previous evening +the Abbe's head had been on fire; Jean had not slept much, but he had not +slept at all. He had risen very early, and with closed doors, alone with +Pauline, he had counted and recounted his money, spreading out his one +hundred Louis-d'or, gloating over them like a miser, and like a miser +finding exquisite pleasure in handling his hoard. All that was his! for +him! that is to say, for the poor. + +"Do not be too lavish, Monsieur le Cure," said Pauline; "be economical. +I think that if you distribute to-day one hundred francs--" + +"That is not enough, Pauline. I shall only have one such day in my life, +but one I will have. How much do you think I shall give to-day?" + +"How much, Monsieur le Cure?" + +"One thousand francs!" + +"One thousand francs!" + +"Yes. We are millionaires now; we possess all the treasures of America, +and you talk about economy? Not to-day, at all events; indeed, I have no +right to think of it." + +After saying mass at nine o'clock he set out and showered gold along his +way. All had a share--the poor who acknowledged their poverty and those +who concealed it. Each alms was accompanied by the same little +discourse: + +"This comes from the new owners of the Longueval--two American ladies, +Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival. Remember their names, and pray for them." + +Then he made off without waiting for thanks, across the fields, through +the woods, from hamlet to hamlet, from cottage to cottage--on, on, on. +A sort of intoxication mounted to his brain. Everywhere were cries of +joy and astonishment. All these louis-d'or fell, as if by a miracle, +into the poor hands accustomed to receive little pieces of silver. The +Curb was guilty of follies, actual follies. He was out of bounds; he did +not recognize himself; he had lost all control over himself; he even gave +to those who did not expect anything. + +He met Claude Rigal, the old sergeant, who had left one of his arms at +Sebastopol. He was growing gray--nay, white; for time passes, and the +soldiers of the Crimea will soon be old men. + +"Here!" said the Cure, "I have twenty francs for you." + +"Twenty francs? But I never asked for anything; I don't want anything; +I have my pension." + +His pension! Seven hundred francs! + +"But listen; it will be something to buy you cigars. It comes from +America." + +And then followed the Abbe's little speech about the masters of +Longueval. + +He went to a poor woman whose son had gone to Tunis. + +"Well, how is your son getting on?" + +"Not so bad, Monsieur le Cure; I had a letter from him yesterday. He +does not complain; he is very well; only he says there are no Kroomirs. +Poor boy! I have been saving for a month, and I think I shall soon be +able to send him ten francs." + +"You shall send him thirty francs. Take this." + +"Thirty francs! Monsieur le Cure, you give me thirty francs?" + +"Yes, that is for you." + +"For my boy?" + +"For your boy. But listen; you must know from whom it comes, and you +must take care to tell your son when you write to him." + +Again the little speech about the new owners of Longueval, and again the +adjuration to remember them in their prayers. At six o'clock he returned +home, exhausted with fatigue, but with his soul filled with joy. + +"I have given away all," he cried, as soon as he saw Pauline, "all! all! +all!" + +He dined, and then went in the evening to perform the usual service for +the month of Mary. But this time, the harmonium was silent; Miss +Percival was no longer there. + +The little organist of the evening before was at that moment much +perplexed. On two couches in her dressing-room were spread two frocks-- +a white and a blue. Bettina was meditating which of these two frocks she +would wear to the opera that evening. After long hesitation she fixed on +the blue. At half-past nine the two sisters ascended the grand staircase +at the opera-house. Just as they entered their box the curtain rose on +the second scene of the second act of Aida, that containing the ballet +and march. + +Two young men, Roger de Puymartin and Louis de Martillet, were seated in +the front of a stage-box. The young ladies of the corps de ballet had +not yet appeared, and these gentlemen, having no occupation, were amusing +themselves with looking about the house. The appearance of Miss Percival +made a strong impression upon both. + +"Ah! ah!" said Puymartin, "there she is, the little golden nugget!" + +"She is perfectly dazzling this evening, this little golden nugget," +continued Martillet. "Look at her, at the line of her neck, the fall of +her shoulders--still a young girl, and already a woman." + +"Yes, she is charming, and tolerably well off into the bargain." + +"Fifteen millions of her own, and the silver mine is still productive." + +"Berulle told me twenty-five millions, and he is very well up in American +affairs." + +"Twenty-five millions! A pretty haul for Romanelli!" + +"What? Romanelli!" + +"Report says that that will be a match; that it is already settled." + +"A match may be arranged, but with Montessan, not with Romanelli. +Ah! at last! Here is the ballet." + +They ceased to talk. The ballet in Aida lasts only five minutes, and for +those five minutes they had come. Consequently they must be enjoyed +respectfully, religiously, for there is that peculiarity among a number +of the habitues of the opera, that they chatter like magpies when they +ought to be silent, to listen, and that they observe the most absolute +silence when they might be allowed to speak, while looking on. + +The trumpets of Aida had given their last heroic 'fanfare' in honor of +Rhadames before the great sphinxes under the green foliage of the palm- +trees, the dancers advanced, the light trembling on their spangled robes, +and took possession of the stage. + +With much attention and pleasure Mrs. Scott followed the evolutions of +the ballet, but Bettina had suddenly become thoughtful, on perceiving in +a box, on the other side of the house, a tall, dark young man. Miss +Percival talked to herself, and said: + +"What shall I do? What shall I decide on? Must I marry him, that +handsome, tall fellow over there, who is watching me, for it is I that he +is looking at? He will come into our box directly this act is over, and +then I have only to say, 'I have decided; there is my hand; I will be +your wife,' and then all would be settled! I should be Princess! +Princess Romanelli! Princess Bettina! Bettina Romanelli! The names go +well together; they sound very pretty. Would it amuse me to be a +princess? Yes--and no! Among all the young men in Paris, who, during +the last year, have run after my money, this Prince Romanelli is the one +who pleases me best. One of these days I must make up my mind to marry. +I think he loves me. Yes, but the question is, do I love him? No, I +don't think I do, and I should so much like to love--so much, so much!" + +At the precise moment when these reflections were passing through +Bettina's pretty head, Jean, alone in his study, seated before his desk +with a great book under the shade of his lamp, looked through, and took +notes of, the campaigns of Turenne. He had been directed to give a +course of instruction to the non-commissioned officers of the regiment, +and was prudently preparing his lesson for the next day. + +But in the midst of his notes--Nordlingen, 1645; les Dunes, 1658; +Mulhausen and Turckheim, 1674-1675--he suddenly perceived (Jean did not +draw very badly) a sketch, a woman's portrait, which all at once appeared +under his pen. What was she doing there, in the middle of Turenne's +victories, this pretty little woman? And then who was she--Mrs. Scott +or Miss Percival? How could he tell? They resembled each other so much; +and, laboriously, Jean returned to the history of the campaigns of +Turenne. + +And at the same moment, the Abbe Constantin, on his knees before his +little wooden bedstead, called down, with all the strength of his soul, +the blessings of Heaven on the two women through whose bounty he had +passed such a sweet and happy day. He prayed God to bless Mrs. Scott in +her children, and to give to Miss Percival a husband after her own heart. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FAIR AMERICANS + +Formerly Paris belonged to the Parisians, and that at no very remote +period-thirty or forty years ago. At that epoch the French were the +masters of Paris, as the English are the masters of London, the Spaniards +of Madrid, and the Russians of St. Petersburg. Those times are no more. +Other countries still have their frontiers; there are now none to France. +Paris has become an immense Babel, a universal and international city. +Foreigners do not only come to visit Paris; they come there to live. +At the present day we have in Paris a Russian colony, a Spanish colony, +a Levantine colony, an American colony. The foreigners have already +conquered from us the greater part of the Champs-Elysees and the +Boulevard Malesherbes; they advance, they extend their outworks; we +retreat, pressed back by the invaders; we are obliged to expatriate +ourselves. We have begun to found Parisian colonies in the plains of +Passy, in the plain of Monceau, in quarters which formerly were not Paris +at all, and which are not quite even now. Among the foreign colonies, +the richest, the most populous, the most brilliant, is the American +colony. There is a moment when an American feels himself rich enough, a +Frenchman never. The American then stops, draws breath, and while still +husbanding the capital, no longer spares the income. He knows how to +spend, the Frenchman knows only how to save. + +The Frenchman has only one real luxury--his revolutions. Prudently and +wisely he reserves himself for them, knowing well that they will cost +France dear, but that, at the same time, they will furnish the +opportunity for advantageous investments. The Frenchman says to himself: + +"Let us hoard! let us hoard! let us hoard! Some of these mornings +there will be a revolution, which will make the 5 per cents. fall 50 or +60 francs. I will buy then. Since revolutions are inevitable, let us +try at least to make them profitable." + +They are always talking about the people who are ruined by revolutions, +but perhaps the number of those enriched by revolutions is still greater. + +The Americans experience the attraction of Paris very strongly. There is +no town in the world where it is easier or more agreeable to spend a +great dial of money. For many reasons, both of race and origin, this +attraction exercised over Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival a very remarkable +power. + +The most French of our colonies is Canada, which is no longer ours. +The recollection of their first home has been preserved faithfully and +tenderly in the hearts of the emigrants to Montreal and Quebec. Susie +Percival had received from her mother an entirely French education, and +she had brought up her sister in the same love of our country. The two +sisters felt themselves Frenchwomen; still better, Parisians. As soon as +the avalanche of dollars had descended upon them, the same desire seized +them both--to come and live in Paris. They demanded France as if it had +been their fatherland. Mr. Scott made some opposition. + +"If I go away from here," he said, "your incomes will suffer." + +"What does that matter?" replied Susie. "We are rich--too rich. Do let +us go. We shall be so happy, so delighted!" + +Mr. Scott allowed himself to be persuaded, and, at the beginning of +January, 1880, Susie wrote the following letter to her friend, Katie +Norton, who had lived in Paris for some years: + +"Victory! It is decided! Richard has consented. I shall arrive in +April, and become a Frenchwoman again. You offered to undertake all the +preparations for our settlement in Paris. I am horribly presuming-- +I accept! When I arrive in Paris, I should like to be able to enjoy +Paris, and not be obliged to lose my first month in running after +upholsterers, coach-builders, horse-dealers. I should like, on arriving +at the railway station, to find awaiting me my carriage, my coachman, my +horses. That very day I should like you to dine with me at my home. +Hire or buy a mansion, engage the servants, choose the horses, the +carriages, the liveries. I depend entirely upon you. As long as the +liveries are blue, that is the only point. This line is added at the +request of Bettina. + +"We shall bring only seven persons with us. Richard will have his valet, +Bettina and I two ladies' maids; then there are the two governesses for +the children, and, besides these, two boys, Toby and Bobby, who ride to +perfection. We should never find in Paris such a perfect pair. + +"Everything else, people and things, we shall leave in New York. No, not +quite everything; I had for gotten four little ponies, four little gems, +black as ink. We have not the heart to leave them; we shall drive them +in a phaeton; it is delightful. Both Bettina and I drive four-in-hand +very well. Ladies can drive four-in-hand in the Bois very early in the +morning; can't they? Here it is quite possible. Above all, my dear +Katie, do not consider money. Be as extravagant as you like, that is all +I ask." The same day that Mrs. Norton received this letter witnessed the +failure of a certain Garneville. He was a great speculator who had been +on a false scent. Stocks had fallen just when he had expected a rise. +This Garneville had, six weeks before, installed himself in a brand-new +house, which had no other fault than a too startling magnificence. Mrs. +Norton signed an agreement--100,000 francs a year, with the option of +buying house and furniture for 2,000,000 during the first year of +possession. A famous upholsterer undertook to correct and subdue the +exaggerated splendor of a loud and gorgeous luxury. That done, Mrs. +Scott's friend had the good fortune to lay her hand on two of those +eminent artists without whom the routine of a great house can neither be +established nor carried on. The first, a chef of the first rank, who had +just left an ancient mansion of the Faubourg St. Germain, to his great +regret, for he had aristocratic inclinations. + +"Never," said he to Mrs. Norton, "never would I have left the service of +Madame la Duchesse if she had kept up her establishment on the same +footing as formerly; but Madame la Duchesse has four children--two sons +who have run through a good deal, and two daughters who will soon be of +an age to marry; they must have their dowries. Therefore, Madame la +Duchesse is obliged to draw in a little, and the house is no longer +important enough for me." + +This distinguished character, of course, made his conditions. Though +excessive, they did not alarm Mrs. Norton, who knew that he was a man of +the most serious merit; but he, before deciding, asked permission to +telegraph to New York. He wished to make certain inquiries. The reply +was favorable; he accepted. + +The second great artist was a stud-groom of the rarest and highest +capacity, who was just about to retire after having made his fortune. +He consented, however, to organize the stables for Mrs. Scott. It was +thoroughly understood that he should have every liberty in purchasing the +horses, that he should wear no livery, that he should choose the +coachmen, the grooms, and everyone connected with the stables; that he +should never have less than fifteen horses in the stables, that no +bargain should be made with the coach-builder or saddler without his +intervention, and that he should never mount the box, except early in the +morning, in plain clothes, to give lessons in driving to the ladies and +children, if necessary. + +The cook took possession of his stores, and the stud-groom of his +stables. Everything else was only a question of money, and with regard +to this Mrs. Norton made full use of her extensive powers. She acted in +conformity with the instructions she had received. In the short space of +two months she performed prodigies, and that is how, when, on the 15th of +April, 1880, Mr. Scott, Susie, and Bettina alighted from the mail train +from Havre, at half-past four in the afternoon, they found Mrs. Norton at +the station of St. Lazare, who said: + +"Your caleche is there in the yard; behind it is a landau for the +children; and behind the landau is an omnibus for the servants. The +three carriages bear your monogram, are driven by your coachman, and +drawn by your horses. Your address is 24 Rue Murillo, and here is the +menu of your dinner to-night. You invited me two months ago; I accept, +and will even take the liberty of bringing a dozen friends with me. I +shall furnish everything, even the guests. But do not be alarmed; you +know them all; they are mutual friends, and this evening we shall be able +to judge of the merits of your cook." + +The first Parisian who had the honor and pleasure of paying homage to the +beauty of Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival was a little Marmiton fifteen +years old, who stood there in his white clothes, his wicker basket on his +head, at the moment when Mrs. Scott's carriage, entangled in the +multitude of vehicles, slowly worked its way out of the station. The +little cook stopped short on the pavement, opened wide his eyes, looked +at the two sisters with amazement, and boldly cast full in their faces +the single word: + +"Mazette!" + +When Madame Recamier saw her first wrinkles, and first gray hairs, she +said to a friend: + +"Ah! my dear, there are no more illusions left for me! From the day +when I saw that the little chimney-sweeps no longer turned round in the +street to look at me, I understood that all was over." + +The opinion of the confectioners' boys is, in similar cases, of equal +value with the opinion of the little chimney-sweeps. All was not over +for Susie and Bettina; on the contrary, all was only beginning. + +Five minutes later, Mrs. Scott's carriage was ascending the Boulevard +Haussmann to the slow and measured trot of a pair of admirable horses. +Paris counted two Parisians the more. + +The success of Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival was immediate, decisive, +like a flash of lightning. The beauties of Paris are not classed and +catalogued like the beauties of London; they do not publish their +portraits in the illustrated papers, or allow their photographs to be +sold at the stationers. However, there is always a little staff, +consisting of a score of women, who represent the grace, and charm, and +beauty of Paris, which women, after ten or twelve years' service, pass +into the reserve, just like the old generals. Susie and Bettina +immediately became part of this little staff. It was an affair of four- +and-twenty hours--of less than four-and-twenty hours, for all passed +between eight in the morning and midnight, the day after their arrival in +Paris. + +Imagine a sort of little 'feerie', in three acts, of which the success +increases from tableau to tableau: + +1st. A ride at ten in the morning in the Bois, with the two marvellous +grooms imported from America. + +2d. A walk at six o'clock in the Allee des Acacias. + +3d. An appearance at the opera at ten in the evening in Mrs. Norton's +box. + +The two novelties were immediately remarked, and appreciated as they +deserved to be, by the thirty or forty persons who constitute a sort of +mysterious tribunal, and who, in the name of all Paris, pass sentence +beyond appeal. These thirty or forty persons have, from time to time, +the fancy to declare "delicious" some woman who is manifestly ugly. +That is enough; she is "delicious" from that moment. + +The beauty of the two sisters was unquestionable. In the morning, it was +their grace, their elegance, their distinction that attracted universal +admiration; in the afternoon, it was declared that their walk had the +freedom and ease of two young goddesses; in the evening, there was but +one cry of rapture at the ideal perfection of their shoulders. From that +moment, all Paris had for the two sisters the eyes of the little pastry- +cook of the Rue d'Amsterdam; all Paris repeated his 'Mazette', though +naturally with the variations and developments imposed by the usages of +the world. + +Mrs. Scott's drawing-room immediately became the fashion. The habitues +of three or four great American houses transferred themselves to the +Scotts, who had three hundred persons at their first Wednesday. Their +circle increased; there was a little of everything to be found in their +set--Americans, Spaniards, Italians, Hungarians, Russians, and even +Parisians. + +When she had related her history to the Abbe Constantin, Mrs. Scott had +not told all--one never does tell all. In a word, she was a coquette. +Mr. Scott had the most perfect confidence in his wife, and left her +entire liberty. He appeared very little; he was an honorable man, who +felt a vague embarrassment at having made such a marriage, at having +married so much money. + +Having a taste for business, he had great pleasure in devoting himself +entirely to the administering of the two immense fortunes which were in +his hands, in continually increasing them, and in saying every year to +his wife and sister in-law: + +"You are still richer than you were last year!" + +Not content with watching with much prudence and ability over the +interests which he had left in America, he launched in France into large +speculations, and was as successful in Paris as he had been in New York. +In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it. + +They made love to Mrs. Scott to an enormous extent; they made love to her +in French, in Italian, in English, in Spanish; for she knew those four +languages, and there is one advantage that foreigners have over our poor +Parisians, who usually know only their mother tongue, and have not the +resource of international passions. + +Naturally, Mrs. Scott did not drive her adorers from her presence. She +had ten, twenty, thirty at a time. + +No one could boast of any preference; to all she opposed the same +amiable, laughing, joyous resistance. It was clear to all that the game +amused her, and that she did not for a moment take it seriously. Mr. +Scott never felt a moment's anxiety, and he was perfectly right. More, +he enjoyed his wife's successes; he was happy in seeing her happy. He +loved her dearly--a little more than she loved him. She loved him very +much, and that was all. There is a great difference between dearly and +very much when these two adverbs are placed after the verb to love. + +As to Bettina, around her was a maddening whirl, an orgy of adulation. +Such fortune! Such beauty! Miss Percival arrived in Paris on the 15th +of April; a fortnight had not passed before the offers of marriage began +to pour upon her. In the course of that first year, she might, had she +wished it, have been married thirty-four times, and to what a variety of +suitors! + +They asked her hand for a young exile, who, under certain circumstances, +might be called to ascend a throne--a very small one, it is true, but a +throne nevertheless. + +They asked her hand for a young duke, who would make a great figure at +Court when France--as was inevitable--should recognize her errors, and +bow down before her legitimate masters. + +They asked her hand for a young prince, who would have a place on the +steps of the throne when France--as was inevitable--should again knit +together the chain of the Napoleonic traditions. + +They asked her hand for a young Republican deputy, who had just made a +most brilliant debut in the Chamber, and for whom the future reserved the +most splendid destiny, for the Republic was now established in France on +the most indestructible basis. + +They asked her hand for a young Spaniard of the purest lineage, and she +was given to understand that the 'contrat' would be signed in the palace +of a queen, who does not live far from the Arc de Triomphe. Besides, one +can find her address in the 'Almanach Bottin', for at the present day, +there are queens who have their address in Bottin between an attorney and +a druggist; it is only the kings of France who no longer live in France. + +They asked her hand for the son of a peer of England, and for the son of +a member of the highest Viennese aristocracy; for the son of a Parisian +banker, and for the son of a Russian ambassador; for a Hungarian count, +and for an Italian prince; and also for various excellent young men who +were nothing and had nothing--neither name nor fortune; but Bettina had +granted them a waltz, and, believing themselves irresistible, they hoped +that they had caused a flutter of that little heart. + +But up to the present moment nothing had touched that little heart, and +the reply had been the same to all "No! no!" again "No!" always "No!" + +Some days after that performance of Aida, the two sisters had a rather +long conversation on this great, this eternal question of marriage. A +certain name had been pronounced by Mrs. Scott which had provoked on the +part of Miss Percival the most decided and most energetic refusal, and +Susie had laughingly said to her sister: + +"But, Bettina, you will be obliged to end by marrying." + +"Yes, certainly, but I should be so sorry to marry without love. It +seems to me that before I could resolve to do such a thing I must be in +danger of dying an old maid, and I am not yet that." + +"No, not yet." + +"Let us wait, let us wait." + +"Let us wait. But among all these lovers whom you have been dragging +after you for the last year, there have been some very nice, very +amiable, and it is really a little strange if none of them--" + +"None, my Susie, none, absolutely none. Why should I not tell you the +truth? Is it their fault? Have they gone unskilfully to work? Could +they, in managing better, have found the way to my heart? or is the +fault in me? Is it perhaps, that the way to my heart is a steep, rocky, +inaccessible way, by which no one will ever pass? Am I a horrid little +creature, and, cold, and condemned never to love?" + +"I do not think so." + +"Neither do I, but up to the present time that is my history. No, I have +never felt anything which resembled love. You are laughing, and I can +guess why. You are saying to yourself, 'A little girl like that +pretending to know what love is!' You are right; I do not know, but I +have a pretty good idea. To love--is it not to prefer to all in the +world one certain person?" + +"Yes; it is really that." + +"Is it not never to weary of seeing that person, or of hearing him? Is +it not to cease to live when he is not there, and to immediately begin to +revive when he reappears?" + +"Oh, but this is romantic love." + +"Well, that is the love of which I dream, and that is the love which does +not come--not at all till now; and yet that person preferred by me to all +and everything does exist. Do you know who it is?" + +"No, I do not know; I do not know, but I have a little suspicion." + +"Yes, it is you, my dearest, and it is perhaps you, naughty sister, who +makes me so insensible and cruel on this point. I love you too much; you +fill my heart; you have occupied it entirely; there is no room for any +one else. Prefer any one to you! Love any one more than you! That will +never, never be!" + +"Oh, yes, it will." + +"Oh, no. Love differently, perhaps, but more--no. He must not count +upon that, this gentleman whom I expect, and who does not arrive." + +"Do not be afraid, my Betty, there is room in your heart for all whom you +should love--for your husband, for your children, and that without your +old sister losing anything. The heart is very little, but it is also +very large." + +Bettina tenderly embraced her sister; then, resting her head coaxingly on +Susie's shoulder, she said: + +"If, however, you are tired of keeping me with you, if you are in a hurry +to get rid of me, do you know what I will do? I will put the names of +two of these gentlemen in a basket, and draw lots. There are two who at +the last extremity would not be absolutely disagreeable." + +"Which two?" + +"Guess." + +"Prince Romanelli." + +"For one! And the other?" + +"Monsieur de Montessan." + +"Those are the two! It is just that. Those two would be acceptable, +but only acceptable, and that is not enough." + +This is why Bettina awaited with extreme impatience the day when she +should leave Paris, and take up their abode in Longueval. She was a +little tired of so much pleasure, so much success, so many offers of +marriage. The whirlpool of Parisian gayety had seized her on her +arrival, and would not let her go, not for one hour of halt or rest. She +felt the need of being given up to herself for a few days, to herself +alone, to consult and question herself at her leisure, in the complete +solitude of the country-in a word, to belong to herself again. + +Was not Bettina all sprightly and joyous when, on the 14th of June, they +took the train for Longueval? As soon as she was alone in a coupe with +her sister: + +"Ah!" she cried, "how happy I am! Let us breathe a little, quite alone, +you and me, for a few days. The Nortons and Turners do not come till the +25th, do they?" + +"No, not till the 25th." + +"We will pass our lives riding or driving in the woods, in the fields. +Ten days of liberty! And during those ten days no more lovers, no more +lovers! And all those lovers, with what are they in love, with me or my +money? That is the mystery, the unfathomable mystery." + +The engine whistled; the train put itself slowly into motion. A wild +idea entered Bettina's head. She leaned out of the window and cried, +accompanying her words with a little wave of the hand: + +"Good-by, my lovers, good-by." + +Then she threw herself suddenly into a corner of the coupe with a hearty +burst of laughter. + +"Oh, Susie, Susie!" + +"What is the matter?" + +"A man with a red flag in his hand; he saw me, and he looked so +astonished." + +"You are so irrational!" + +"Yes, it is true, to have called out of the window like that, but not to +be happy at thinking that we are going to live alone, 'en garcons'." + +"Alone! alone! Not exactly that. To begin with, we shall have two +people to dinner to-night." + +"Ah! that is true. But those two people, I shall not be at all sorry to +see them again. Yes, I shall be well pleased to see the old Cure again, +but especially the young officer." + +"What! especially?" + +"Certainly; because what the lawyer from Souvigny told us the other day +is so touching, and what that great artilleryman did when he was quite +little was so good, so good, that this evening I shall seek for an +opportunity of telling him what I think of it, and I shall find one." + +Then Bettina, abruptly changing the course of the conversation, +continued: + +"Did they send the telegram yesterday to Edwards about the ponies?" + +"Yes, yesterday before dinner." + +"Oh, you will let me drive them up to the house. It will be such fun to +go through the town, and to drive up at full speed into the court in +front of the entrance. Tell me, will you?" + +"Yes, certainly, you shall drive the ponies." + +"Oh, how nice of you, Susie!" + +Edwards was the stud-groom. He had arrived at Longueval three days +before. He deigned to come himself--to meet Mrs. Scott and Miss +Percival. He brought the phaeton drawn by the four black ponies. He was +waiting at the station. The passage of the ponies through the principal +street of the town had made a sensation. The population rushed out of +their houses, and asked eagerly: + +"What is it? What can it be?" + +Some ventured the opinion: + +"It is, perhaps, a travelling circus." + +But exclamations arose on all sides: + +"You did not notice the style of it--the carriage and the harness shining +like gold, and the little horses with their white rosettes on each side +of the head." + +The crowd collected around the station, and those who were curious +learned that they were going to witness the arrival of the new owners of +Longueval. They were slightly disenchanted when the two sisters +appeared, very pretty, but in very simple travelling costumes. + +These good people had almost expected the apparition of two princesses +out of fairy tales, clad in silk and brocade, sparkling with rubies and +diamonds. But they opened wide their eyes when they saw Bettina walk +slowly round the four ponies, caressing one after another lightly with +her hand, and examining all the details of the team with the air of a +connoisseur. + +Having made her inspection, Bettina, without the least hurry, drew off +her long Swedish gloves, and replaced them by a pair of dog-skin which +she took from the pocket of the carriage apron. Then she slipped on to +the box in the place of Edwards, receiving from him the reins and whip +with extreme dexterity, without allowing the already excited horses to +perceive that they had changed hands. + +Mrs. Scott seated herself beside her sister. The ponies pranced, +curveted, and threatened to rear. + +"Be very careful, miss," said Edwards; "the ponies are very fresh to- +day." + +"Do not be afraid," replied Bettina. "I know them." + +Miss Percival had a hand at once very firm, very light, and very just. +She held in the ponies for a few moments, forcing them to keep their own +places; then, waving the long thong of her whip round the leaders, she +started her little team at once, with incomparable skill, and left the +station with an air of triumph, in the midst of a long murmur of +astonishment and admiration. + +The trot of the black ponies rang on the little oval paving-stones of +Souvigny. Bettina held them well together until she had left the town, +but as soon as she saw before her a clear mile and a half of highroad- +almost on a dead level-she let them gradually increase their speed, till +they went like the wind. + +"Oh! how happy I am, Susie!" cried she; "and we shall trot and gallop +all alone on these roads. Susie, would you like to drive? It is such a +delight when one can let them go at full speed. They are so spirited and +so gentle. Come, take the reins." + +"No; keep them. It is a greater pleasure to me to see you happy." + +"Oh, as to that, I am perfectly happy. I do like so much to drive four- +in-hand with plenty of space before me. At Paris, even in the morning, +I did not dare to any longer. They looked at me so, it annoyed me. But +here--no one! no one! no one!" + +At the moment when Bettina, already a little intoxicated with the bracing +air and liberty, gave forth triumphantly these three exclamations, "No +one! no one! no one!" a rider appeared, walking his horse in the +direction of the carriage. It was Paul de Lavardens. He had been +watching for more than an hour for the pleasure of seeing the Americans +pass. + +"You are mistaken," said Susie to Bettina; "there is some one." + +"A peasant; they don't count; they won't ask me to marry them." + +"It is not a peasant at all. Look!" + +Paul de Lavardens, while passing the carriage, made the two sisters a +highly correct bow, from which one at once scented the Parisian. + +The ponies were going at such a rate that the meeting was over like a +flash of lightning. + +Bettina cried: + +"Who is that gentleman who has just bowed to us?" + +"I had scarcely time to see, but I seemed to recognize him." + +"You recognized him?" + +"Yes, and I would wager that I have seen him at our house this winter." + +"Heavens! if it should be one of the thirty-four! Is all that going to +begin again?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A LITTLE DINNER FOR FOUR + +That same day, at half-past seven, Jean went to fetch the Cure, and the +two walked together up to the house. During the last month a perfect +army of workmen had taken possession of Longueval; all the inns in the +village were making their fortunes. + +Enormous furniture wagons brought cargoes of furniture and decorations +from Paris. Forty-eight hours before the arrival of Mrs. Scott, +Mademoiselle Marbeau, the postmistress, and Madame Lormier, the mayoress, +had wormed themselves into the castle, and the account they gave of the +interior turned every one's head. The old furniture had disappeared, +banished to the attics; one moved among a perfect accumulation of +wonders. And the stables! and the coach-houses! A special train had +brought from Paris, under the high superintendence of Edwards, a dozen +carriages--and such carriages! Twenty horses--and such horses! + +The Abbe Constantin thought that he knew what luxury was. Once a year he +dined with his bishop, Monseigneur Faubert, a rich and amiable prelate, +who entertained rather largely. The Cure, till now, had, thought that +there was nothing in the world more sumptuous than the Episcopal palace +of Souvigny, or the castles of Lavardens and Longueval. + +He began to understand, from what he was told of the new splendors of +Longueval, that the luxury of the great houses of the present day must +surpass to a singular degree the sober and severe luxury of the great +houses of former times. + +As soon as the Cure and Jean had entered the avenue in the park, which +led to the house: + +"Look! Jean," said the Cure; "what a change! All this part of the park +used to be quite neglected, and now all the paths are gravelled and +raked. I shall not be able to feel myself at home as I used to do: it +will be too grand. I shall not find again my old brown velvet easy- +chair, in which I so often fell asleep after dinner, and if I fall asleep +this evening what will become of me? You will think of it, Jean, and if +you see that I begin to forget myself, you will come behind me and pinch +my arm gently, won't you? You promise me?" + +"Certainly, certainly, I promise you." + +Jean paid but slight attention to the conversation of the Cure. He felt +extremely impatient to see Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival again, but this +impatience was mingled with very keen anxiety. Would he find them in the +great salon at Longueval the same as he had seen them in the little +dining-room at the vicarage? Perhaps, instead of those two women, so +perfectly simple and familiar, amusing themselves with this little +improvised dinner, and who, the very first day, had treated him with so +much grace and cordiality, would he find two pretty dolls-worldly, +elegant, cold, and correct? Would his first impression be effaced? +Would it disappear? or, on the contrary, would the impression in his +heart become still sweeter and deeper? + +They ascended the six steps at the entrance, and were received in the +hall by two tall footmen with the most dignified and imposing air. This +hall had formerly been a vast, frigid apartment, with bare stone walls. +These walls were now covered with admirable tapestry, representing +mythological subjects. The Cure dared scarcely glance at this tapestry; +it was enough for him to perceive that the goddesses who wandered through +these shades wore costumes of antique simplicity. + +One of the footmen opened wide the folding-doors of the salon. It was +there that one had generally found the old Marquise, on the right of the +high chimney-piece, and on the left had stood the brown velvet easy- +chair. + +No brown easy-chair now! That old relic of the Empire, which was the +basis of the arrangement of the salon, had been replaced by a marvellous +specimen of tapestry of the end of the last century. Then a crowd of +little easy-chairs, and ottomans of all forms and all colors, were +scattered here and there with an appearance of disorder which was the +perfection of art. + +As soon as Mrs. Scott saw the Cure and Jean enter, she rose, and going to +meet them, said: + +"How kind of you to come, Monsieur le Cure, and you, too, Monsieur Jean. +How pleased I am to see you, my first, my only friends down here!" + +Jean breathed again. It was the same woman. + +"Will you allow me," added Mrs. Scott, "to introduce my children to you? +Harry and Bella, come here." + +Harry was a very pretty little boy of six, and Bella a very charming +little girl, five years old. They had their mother's large, dark eyes, +and her golden hair. + +After the Cure had kissed the two children, Harry, who was looking with +admiration at Jean's uniform, said to his mother: + +"And the soldier, mamma, must we kiss him, too?" + +"If you like," replied Mrs. Scott, "and if he will allow it." + +A moment after, the two children were installed upon Jean's knees, and +overwhelming him with questions. + +"Are you an officer?" + +"Yes, I am an officer." + +"What in?" + +"In the artillery." + +"The artillery! Oh, you are one of the men who fire the cannon. Oh, how +I should like to be quite near when they fire the cannon!" + +"Will you take us some day when they fire the cannon? Tell me, will +you?" + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Scott chatted with the Cure, and Jean, while replying to +the children's questions, looked at Mrs. Scott. She wore a white muslin +frock, but the muslin disappeared under a complete avalanche of little +flounces of Valenciennes. The dress was cut out in front in a large +square, her arms were bare to the elbow, a large bouquet of red roses at +the opening of her dress, a red rose fixed in her hair, with a diamond +'agraffe'--nothing more. + +Mrs. Scott suddenly perceived that the children had taken entire +possession of Jean, and exclaimed: + +"Oh, I beg your pardon. Harry, Bella!" + +"Oh, pray let them stay with me." + +"I am so sorry to keep you waiting for dinner; my sister is not down yet. +Oh! here she is!" + +Bettina entered. The same frock of white muslin, the same delicate mass +of lace, the same red roses, the same grace, the same beauty, and the +same smiling, amiable, candid manner. + +"How do you do, Monsieur le Cure? I am delighted to see you. Have you +pardoned my dreadful intrusion of the other day?" + +Then, turning toward Jean and offering him her hand: + +"How do you do, Monsieur--Monsieur--Oh! I can not remember your name, +and yet we seem to be already old friends, Monsieur--" + +"Jean Reynaud." + +"Jean Reynaud, that is it. How do you do, Monsieur Reynaud? I warn you +faithfully that when we really are old friends--that is to say, in about +a week--I shall call you Monsieur Jean. It is a pretty name, Jean." + +Up to the moment when Bettina appeared Jean had said to himself: + +"Mrs. Scott is the prettier!" + +When he felt Bettina's little hand slip into his arm, and when she turned +toward him her delicious face, he said: + +"Miss Percival is the prettier!" + +But his perplexities gathered round him again when he was seated between +the two sisters. If he looked to the right, love threatened him from +that direction, and if he looked to the left, the danger removed +immediately, and passed to the left. + +Conversation began, easy, animated, confidential. The two sisters were +charmed; they had already walked in the park; they promised themselves a +long ride in the forest tomorrow. Riding was their passion, their +madness. It was also Jean's passion, so that after a quarter of an hour +they begged him to join them the next day. There was no one who knew the +country round better than he did; it was his native place. He should be +so happy to do the honors of it, and to show them numbers of delightful +little spots which, without him, they would never discover. + +"Do you ride every day?" asked Bettina. + +"Every day and sometimes twice. In the morning on duty, and in the +evening I am ride for my own pleasure." + +"Early in the morning?" + +"At half-past five." + +"At half-past five every morning?" + +"Yes, except Sunday." + +"Then you get up--" + +"At half-past four." + +"And is it light?" + +"Oh, just now, broad daylight." + +"To get up at half-past four is admirable; we often finish our day just +when yours is beginning. And are you fond of your profession?" + +"Very. It is an excellent thing to have one's life plain before one, +with exact and definite duties." + +"And yet," said Mrs. Scott, "not to be one's own master--to be always +obliged to obey." + +"That is perhaps what suits me best; there is nothing easier than to +obey, and then to learn to obey is the only way of learning to command." + +"Ah! since you say so, it must be true." + +"Yes, no doubt," added the Cure; "but he does not tell you that he is the +most distinguished officer in his regiment, that--" + +"Oh! pray do not." + +The Cure, in spite of the resistance of Jean, was about to launch into a +panegyric on his godson, when Bettina, interposing, said: + +"It is unnecessary, Monsieur le Cure, do not say anything, we know +already all that you would tell us, we have been so indiscreet as to make +inquiries about Monsieur--oh, I was just going to say Monsieur Jean-- +about Monsieur Reynaud. Well, the information we received was +excellent!" + +"I am curious to know," said Jean. + +"Nothing! nothing! you shall know nothing. I do not wish to make you +blush, and you would be obliged to blush." + +Then turning toward the Cure, "And about you, too, Monsieur l'Abbe, we +have had some information. It appears that you are a saint." + +"Oh! as to that, it is perfectly true," cried Jean. + +It was the Cure this time who cut short the eloquence of Jean. Dinner +was almost over. The old priest had not got through this dinner without +experiencing many emotions. They had repeatedly presented to him +complicated and scientific constructions upon which he had only ventured +with a trembling hand. He was afraid of seeing the whole crumble beneath +his touch; the trembling castles of jelly, the pyramids of truffles, the +fortresses of cream, the bastions of pastry, the rocks of ice. Otherwise +the Abbe Constantin dined with an excellent appetite, and did not recoil +before two or three glasses of champagne. He was no foe to good cheer; +perfection is not of this world; and if gormandizing were, as they say, a +cardinal sin, how many good priests would be damned! + +Coffee was served on the terrace in front of the house; in the distance +was heard the harsh voice of the old village clock striking nine. Woods +and fields were slumbering; the avenues in the park showed only as long, +undulating, and undecided lines. The moon slowly rose over the tops of +the great trees. + +Bettina took a box of cigars from the table. "Do you smoke?" said she. + +"Yes, Miss Percival." + +"Take one, Monsieur Jean. It can't be helped. I have said it. Take +one--but no, listen to me first." + +And speaking in a low voice, while offering him the box of cigars: + +"It is getting dark, now you may blush at your ease. I will tell you +what I did not say at dinner. An old lawyer in Souvigny, who was your +guardian, came to see my sister in Paris, about the payment for the +place; he told us what you did after your father's death, when you were +only a child, what you did for that poor mother, and for that poor young +girl. Both my sister and I were much touched by it." + +"Yes," continued Mrs. Scott, "and that is why we have received you to-day +with so much pleasure. We should not have given such a reception to +every one, of that you may be sure. Well, now take your cigar, my sister +is waiting." + +Jean could not find a word in reply. Bettina stood there with the box of +cigars in her two hands, her eyes fixed frankly on the countenance of +Jean. At the moment, she tasted a true and keen pleasure which may be +expressed by this phrase: + +"It seems to me that I see before me a man of honor." + +"And now," said Mrs. Scott, "let us sit here and enjoy this delicious +night; take your coffee, smoke--" + +"And do not let us talk, Susie, do not let us talk. This great silence +of the country, after the great noise and bustle of Paris, is delightful! +Let us sit here without speaking; let us look at the sky, the moon, and +the stars." + +All four, with much pleasure, carried out this little programme. Susie +and Bettina, calm, reposeful, absolutely separated from their existence +of yesterday, already felt a tenderness for the place which had just +received them, and was going to keep them. Jean was less tranquil; the +words of Miss Percival had caused him profound emotion, his heart had not +yet quite regained its regular throb. + +But the happiest of all was the Abbe Constantin. + +This little episode which had caused Jean's modesty such a rude, yet +sweet trial, had brought him exquisite joy, the Abbe bore his godson such +affection. The most tender father never loved more warmly the dearest of +his children. When the old Cure looked at the young officer, he often +said to himself: + +"Heaven has been too kind; I am a priest, and I have a son!" + +The Abbe sank into a very agreeable reverie; he felt himself at home, +he felt himself too much at home; by degrees his ideas became hazy and +confused, reverie became drowsiness, drowsiness became slumber, the +disaster was soon complete, irreparable; the Cure slept, and slept +profoundly. This marvellous dinner, and the two or three glasses of +champagne may have had something to do with the catastrophe. + +Jean perceived nothing; he had forgotten the promise made to his +godfather. And why had he forgotten it? Because Mrs. Scott and Miss +Percival had thought proper to put their feet on the footstools, placed +in front of their great wicker garden-chairs filled with cushions; then +they had thrown themselves lazily back in their chairs, and their muslin +skirts had become raised a little, a very little, but yet enough to +display four little feet, the lines of which showed very distinctly and +clearly beneath two pretty clouds of white lace. Jean looked at these +little feet, and asked himself this question: + +"Which are the smaller?" + +While he was trying to solve this problem, Bettina, all at once, said to +him in a low voice: + +"Monsieur Jean! Monsieur Jean!" + +"Miss Percival?" + +"Look at the Cure, he is asleep." + +"Oh! it is my fault." + +"How your fault?" asked Mrs. Scott, also in a low voice. + +"Yes; my godfather rises at daybreak, and goes to bed very early; he told +me to be sure and prevent his falling asleep; when Madame de Longueval +was here he very often had a nap after dinner. You have shown him so +much kindness that he has fallen back into his old habits." + +"And he is perfectly right," said Bettina, "do not make a noise, do not +wake him." + +"You are too good, Miss Percival, but the air is getting a little fresh." + +"Ah! that is true, he might catch cold. Stay, I will go and fetch a +wrap for him." + +"I think, Miss Percival, it would be better to try and wake him +skilfully, so that he should not suspect that you had seen him asleep." + +"Let me do it," said Bettina. "Susie, let us sing together, very softly +at first, then we will raise our voices little by little, let us sing." + +"Willingly, but what shall we sing?" + +"Let us sing, 'Quelque chose d'enfantin,' the words are suitable." + +Susie and Bettina began to sing: + + If I had but two little wings, + And were a little feathery bird, + +Their sweet and penetrating voices had an exquisite sonority in that +profound silence. The Abbe heard nothing, did not move. Charmed with +this little concert, Jean said to himself: + +"Heaven grant that my godfather may not wake too soon!" + +The voices became clearer and louder: + + But in my sleep to you I fly, + I'm always with you in my sleep. + +Yet the Abbe did not stir. + +"How he sleeps," said Susie, "it is a crime to wake him." + +"But we must; louder, Susie, louder." + +Susie and Bettina both gave free scope to the power of their voices. + + Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids, + So I love to wake ere break of day. + +The Cure woke with a start. After a short moment of anxiety he breathed +again. Evidently no one had noticed that he had been asleep. He +collected himself, stretched himself prudently, slowly, he was saved! + +A quarter of an hour later the two sisters accompanied the Cure and Jean +to the little gate of the park, which opened into the village a few yards +from the vicarage; they had nearly reached the gate when Bettina said all +at once to Jean: + +"Ah! all this time I have had a question to ask you. This morning when +we arrived, we met on the way a slight young man, with a fair mustache, +he was riding a black horse, and bowed to us as we passed." + +"It was Paul de Lavardens, one of my friends; he has already had the +honor of being introduced to you, but rather vaguely, and his ambition is +to be presented again." + +"Well, you shall bring him one of these days," said Mrs. Scott. + +"After the 25th!" cried Bettina. "Not before! not before! No one till +then; till then we will see no one but you, Monsieur Jean. But you, it +is very extraordinary, and I don't quite know how it has happened, you +don't seem anybody to us. The compliment is perhaps not very well +turned, but do not make a mistake, it is a compliment. I intended to be +excessively amiable in speaking to you thus." + +"And so you are, Miss Percival." + +"So much the better if I have been so fortunate as to make myself +understood. Good-by, Monsieur Jean--till tomorrow!" + +Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival returned slowly toward the castle. + +"And now, Susie," said Bettina, "scold me well, I expect it, I have +deserved it." + +"Scold you! Why?" + +"You are going to say, I am sure, that I have been too familiar with that +young man." + +"No, I shall not say that. From the first day that young man has made +the most favorable impression upon me; he inspires me with perfect +confidence." + +"And so he does me." + +"I am persuaded that it would be well for us both to try to make a friend +of him." + +"With all my heart, as far as I am concerned, so much the more as I have +seen many young men since we have lived in France. Oh! yes, I have, +indeed! Well! this is the first, positively the first, in whose eyes I +have not clearly read, 'Oh, how glad I should be to marry the millions of +that little person!' That was written in the eyes of all the others, but +not in his eyes. Now, here we are at home again. Good-night, Susie-- +to-morrow." + +Mrs. Scott went to see and kiss her sleeping children. + +Bettina remained long, leaning on the balustrade of her balcony. + +"It seems to me," said she, "that I am going to be very fond of this +place." + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Believing themselves irresistible +Frenchman has only one real luxury--his revolutions +Great difference between dearly and very much +Had not told all--one never does tell all +In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it +To learn to obey is the only way of learning to command + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Abbe Constantin, v2 +by Ludovic Halevy + + + + + + +THE ABBE CONSTANTIN + +By LUDOVIC HALEVY + + + +BOOK 3. + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONFIDENCES + +The next morning, on returning from drill, Jean found Paul de Lavardens +waiting for him at the barracks; he scarcely allowed him time to +dismount, and the moment he had him alone: + +"Quick," said he, "describe your, dinner-party of yesterday. 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 + + + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE ABBE CONSTANTIN: + +Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by time +And they are shoulders which ought to be seen +Believing themselves irresistible +But she will give me nothing but money +Duty, simply accepted and simply discharged +Frenchman has only one real luxury--his revolutions +God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sake +Great difference between dearly and very much +Had not told all--one never does tell all +He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied +If there is one! (a paradise) +In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it +Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart +Never foolish to spend money. The folly lies in keeping it +Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighter +One half of his life belonged to the poor +One may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry +Succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness +The women have enough religion for the men +The history of good people is often monotonous or painful +To learn to obey is the only way of learning to command + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Abbe Constantin, entire +by Ludovic Halevy + |