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diff --git a/40133-0.txt b/40133-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..661799b --- /dev/null +++ b/40133-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16597 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40133 *** + +[Illustration: Frontispiece; Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons] + + + _A PREMEDITATED COLLISION_ + + _Frédéric looked up and recognized Dubourg; he was on the point of + laughing outright, when his friend forestalled him by running + toward him, exclaiming: + + "I cannot be mistaken! What a fortunate meeting! It surely is + Monsieur Frédéric de Montreville!"_ + + + + +NOVELS + +BY + +Paul de Kock + +VOLUME X + +SISTER ANNE + +PRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH + +[Illustration: colophon] + +GEORGE BARRIE'S SONS + +THE JEFFERSON PRESS + +BOSTON NEW YORK + +_Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons._ + + + + +SISTER ANNE + + + + +I + +A NOCTURNAL WALK.--MY AUNT'S FIVE HUNDRED FRANCS + + +The theatres had long since dismissed their audiences, the shops were +closed, and the cafés were closing. Passers-by were becoming more and +more infrequent, the cabs moved more rapidly, the street lights were +burning, and the gas in the houses was disappearing; the streets of +Paris, like the inhabitants thereof, were about to enjoy their brief +hour of repose. + +But repose, like fine weather, is never universal: when we are enjoying +it in Paris, it may be that people are fighting in some other quarter of +the globe; and while we are revelling in mild and delicious weather, +within a hundred leagues of us a tornado may be destroying the crops, or +a tempest submerging ships. Since peace and fine weather cannot be +universal, let us try to make the most of them while they are in our +possession, and let us not worry as to what sort of weather our +neighbors are having. + +A gentleman, who presumably had no desire to sleep, was walking through +the streets of Paris, which had become almost silent. For more than an +hour, he had been walking on the boulevards, from Rue du Temple to Rue +Poissonnière; occasionally, without any very clear idea as to where he +was going, he strayed into the faubourgs; but he soon stopped, looked +about him, muttered between his teeth: "What the devil am I doing here?" +and returned to the boulevards. + +This gentleman seemed to be in the neighborhood of thirty years of age; +he was of medium height, and rather stout than thin. His face was +neither ugly nor handsome; his round eyes protruded overmuch, and his +nose, while not exactly flat, had neither the nobility of the Grecian +nor the charm of the aquiline type. By way of compensation, he had what +is called expression, and possessed the art of forcing his features to +depict the sentiment which he desired to seem to feel: an art no less +valuable in society than on the stage; for we are actors everywhere, and +there are at court, in the city, in palaces, in salons, in boudoirs, and +even in the servants' hall, people of unexcelled skill in the art of +counterfeiting what they do not feel. + +Our promenader's costume was neither elegant nor shabby. He was dressed +like one who is in the habit of going into society, but not for the +purpose of exhibiting the cut of his coat or the color of his trousers. +His bearing corresponded with his dress; it was not at all pretentious. +You will say, perhaps, that a man does not select so late an hour of the +night to adopt a swagger or a mincing gait; I shall, in that case, have +the honor to reply that I am drawing the portrait of the man as he was +under ordinary circumstances, and that I had made his acquaintance prior +to the moment of his introduction to you. + +Now that you have the means of forming an idea of this individual's +appearance, you will perhaps be curious to know what business detained +him on the boulevards, why he was walking there so late instead of +going home to bed. In order to find out, let us listen to him for a +moment talking to himself as he walks, with both hands in his pockets, +and as unconcernedly as if it were only eight o'clock in the evening. + +"I had a presentiment of what would happen to me. I didn't want to go to +that little Delphine's. If I had stayed away, I should still have my +five hundred francs in my pocket. But little Delphine is such a dear +creature! she wrote me such a sweet little note! Am I still green enough +to fall into such a trap? I, who know the world so well, especially +women! If I had had sense enough to take only three hundred francs with +me, I should have something left; but, no! I must needs play the +millionaire! I played like a fool. That little man who won my money +turned the king very often. Hum! it looks a little shady. But one thing +is certain, and that is that I haven't a sou, and that my landlord +turned me out of his house yesterday because I didn't pay him. For four +paltry louis! the Arab! I was going to pay him yesterday, with the five +hundred francs my old aunt sent me, when little Delphine's invitation +came and upset all my virtuous plans. Poor Dubourg! you are +incorrigible, my friend; and yet, you are beginning to be old enough to +reform." + +At this point, Dubourg--for now we know his name--took his snuff-box +from his pocket, and paused to take a pinch. + +"O my only comfort! my trusty companion!" he continued, gazing at his +snuff-box with an expression that was almost sentimental; "it's very +lucky that you are made of nothing more valuable than horn; if you had +been, I should have parted with you long ago.--But let us reflect a +little. What in the devil am I going to do? I have no employment; they +are so ridiculous in these public offices! I earned only fifteen hundred +francs, so it seemed fair to me that I shouldn't work any more than the +deputy-chief who earned three thousand; strictly speaking, indeed, I +ought to have worked only half as much. Now, as my deputy-chief never +appeared till noon and went away at four o'clock, and passed that time +reading the newspapers, cutting quill pens, chatting with his back to +the stove in winter, and going out to take the air in summer, I saw no +reason why I shouldn't get to the office as late as he did and go away +as early; pass an hour reading the _Moniteur_, three-quarters of an hour +on the _Constitutionnel_, and an hour and a quarter on the _Débats_; +stare at my pen a long while before trimming the nib; look at the work +before me without touching it; turn over a file of papers for an hour, +and then put it back in its place, without the slightest intention of +writing anything on it; and take as much time to go out to buy a roll as +it would have taken me to go from Paris to Saint-Cloud. This conduct, +dictated by a sense of justice, was not to the liking of my superiors; +as they wanted to force me to work hard, so that they need do nothing, +they didn't like it because I presumed to imitate them; they reported me +to the minister, and I was kicked out. To be sure, they offered to take +me back a little later, as a substitute, but I felt that I was unworthy +of such an honor. + +"Then I went into a banking-house. Gad! what a difference! There, my +superiors set the example of working hard. From the head clerk to the +office-boy, everyone came at eight o'clock and stayed till five, then +came back at seven and stayed till ten; and during all that time, not a +minute's rest; writing, or making figures all the time. If by chance a +fellow could venture to say a word, it was only while he was copying a +letter or opening an account. No holidays! Always a mail coming in or +going out. A man couldn't do too much; and if I happened to leave the +office a few minutes before ten, an infernal Dutchman, who had passed +forty-five years of his life over a ledger, would always take out his +watch and say: 'You're in a great hurry to-night!' + +"Faith, I couldn't stand it! That animal life was ruining my health; and +one fine morning, when they lectured me because I went out to get a +glass of beer at a café near by, I took my hat and said good-bye to +banking-houses and business. + +"I tried being a notary, but I was too absent-minded: I mistook a death +certificate for a marriage contract, and a power of attorney for a will; +so I was politely advised to abandon that profession. + +"Then I went into an old solicitor's office. Ah! I was in clover there +for some little time. He had a wife who was past her prime; she was very +fond of walking and driving, and she chose me for her escort. The +husband, who was thus relieved of that duty, was very well pleased to +have me escort her everywhere; I think he would have made me his first +clerk, if I would have agreed to take madame to walk all my life. But I +got tired of having always on my arm a costume _à la_ Pompadour and the +face of a country magistrate. I ceased to be attentive to madame, +monsieur took offence and discharged me. _O tempora! O mores!_ + +"Thereupon I renounced the legal profession; I felt in my heart the +impulses of a noble independence, an intense love of liberty. So I began +to do nothing--a superb profession, within everybody's reach; and a +delightful one when it is supported by investments in the funds. +Unluckily, my name is not inscribed on the books of the State, but only +on those of my tailor, bootmaker, et cetera. I am an orphan; my parents +left me very little, and that little could not last long, especially +with me, who am neither miserly, nor economical, nor prudent, and who +have no desire for money except to have the pleasure of spending it. My +father, an estimable Breton, practised medicine; he ought to have made a +fortune! Probably in his day there weren't enough colds, fevers, and bad +air. He left me nothing but a most honorable name, which, for all my +follies, I shall never suffer to be disgraced, because a man can be a +reprobate and still be honest. + +"When I had spent my modest inheritance, I began to philosophize; I was +tempted to write, as Seneca did, on contempt for wealth. But Seneca had +a fortune of forty millions when he wrote that; so that he was better +acquainted with his subject than I am, without a sou. So, as one should +try to talk of nothing except what one knows about, I concluded not to +talk about wealth, of which I know nothing. + +"Luckily, I still have an old aunt, in the wilds of Bretagne, who has +never married. The dear woman has only a modest fortune, and yet she has +never deserted her nephew. To be sure, I have written her some very +affecting letters. Poor, dear soul! she thinks I am married! Faith! as I +couldn't think of any other possible way of getting money from her, in +my last letter I made myself out, at one stroke, a husband and father; +yes, and the father of triplets! That was what brought the +five-hundred-franc note that I have just lost at écarté. O cursed +écarté! I swore that I wouldn't gamble any more, as I am in hard luck +this month. But how could I resist? I went to little Delphine's, who, +since she left the stage, receives the best people in Paris: artists, +authors, journalists, English, Russian, and Tartar noblemen. Tartars, +yes! indeed, I fancy that little man I played with was something of a +Greek.[A] To pass eighteen times in succession is a little too much! And +that other idiot, who made a point of offering me punch every time I +lost! as if I could drink five hundred francs' worth of it! Ah! my poor +old aunt! if you knew what had become of your money! The worst of it all +is that she won't send me any more for a long time. I can't have the +wife I have taken to my bosom, to touch my aunt's heart, lie in every +month; I have said she was sick twice already; I have credited my +triplets with all the diseases children have, and have given myself +inflammation of the lungs and jaundice. But that sort of thing will be +played out sooner or later. No, my poor aunt, no, I won't pester you any +more. No, I don't propose that you shall deprive yourself any longer of +all the little comforts of life, for your scamp of a nephew. I have +abused your goodness of heart too much. I blush to think how often I +have appealed to it; I feel in my heart a noble pride; and when I think +of your last remittance of five hundred francs! gone in four games! Gad! +it's horrible!" + + [A] Greek, _i.e._, "sharper." + +Dubourg began to walk a little more rapidly; he took his hands from his +pockets, as if he were furious to find nothing in them; but in a moment +he became calm again, resumed his former gait, and once more exclaimed: + +"But what in the deuce am I going to do?" + +At that moment, he passed one of those individuals who wander about the +streets at night, with a bag on their back and a hooked stick in their +hand, and halt in front of places which we avoid during the day. + +"That's a last resort, to be sure," said Dubourg, glancing at the man +with the lantern; "but I confess that I don't as yet feel courageous +enough to employ it; and although a famous author has said: 'It is not +the trade that honors the man, but the man should honor the trade,' I +doubt whether I should be held in high esteem if I should take to that +little hooked stick; even though I possessed with it the wisdom of Cato, +the clemency of Titus, and the virtues of Marcus Aurelius. + +"However, I have some talents of my own, and I am not reduced to that +yet. I love the arts; ah! I adore them! I was born to be an artist. I +don't know how to draw, I cannot play on any instrument, I do not write +poetry with great facility; but, for all that, I love painting, music, +and poetry. If I should go on the stage, I believe I should make a +success of it. But to make one's début at thirty years--that's rather +late in life. And then, the idea of the son of a doctor at Rennes going +on the stage! But why not? Louis XIV did it; he acted before his court; +and if I had been in Racine's place, I certainly would have written some +splendid parts for him, instead of trying to turn aside his inclination. +Our present-day authors wouldn't be so stupid; consequently they are +rich, whereas in Racine's time they were not. + +"But I can't begin to-morrow, and yet I must dine to-morrow: a desperate +plight to be in when one has neither money nor credit. Come, come, +Dubourg! come, my fine fellow, don't be downcast, retain that lightness +of heart, that sang-froid which has never failed you thus far. Remember +that it is a glorious thing to be able to endure misfortune; that it is +in disaster that a brave heart manifests its courage. Oh! yes; it's easy +enough for me to say all this now, while my stomach is still full of +Mademoiselle Delphine's cakes and sweetmeats and punch; but when I am +hungry, I am afraid I shall be a wretched philosopher. + +"In misfortune, one has recourse to one's friends; but one has no +friends when one is unfortunate. But sometimes men aren't so selfish as +they are said to be. Let me think! Frédéric! yes, he alone can be useful +to me. Frédéric is only twenty; he still looks upon the world as a young +man is likely to do at that age, when he has been, up to eighteen, under +his father's eye and under the care of a tutor. Frédéric is +kind-hearted, generous, easily moved--too easily, indeed; but it is not +for me to blame him for following too readily the impulses of his heart. +He has accommodated me several times; but, no matter; I am sure that +he'll do it again, if he can. Let us go to see Frédéric." + +Dubourg mechanically put his hand to his fob, to see what time it was; +then he sighed, and murmured: + +"Unlucky dog that I am! I have never been able to keep one a week. Ah! +my poor aunt! If I only had your five hundred francs!" + +The weather was becoming threatening, and a few drops of rain fell. The +cabs had ceased to break the silence of the night; the street lanterns +cast only a faint and flickering light. + +"It must be very late," said Dubourg, glancing about. "Frédéric lives +with his father, Monsieur le Comte de Montreville. How can I venture to +go there at this time of night? The count is inclined to be strict; he's +not one of your stage fathers, with whom you can do whatever you +choose. On the contrary, they say that he demands the most absolute +obedience from his son, and that his son trembles before him. But I have +no doubt that his severity is exaggerated; at all events, he hardly +knows me. I have been to the house several times, but he has seen me +only once or twice. Frédéric's apartment is in a different wing from +his, so we will try our luck." + +And Dubourg, leaving at last the circle to which he had confined his +steps for so long, walked rapidly toward Rue de Provence, where the +Comte de Montreville's mansion was situated. + +As he drew nearer to Frédéric's abode, his hope of seeing him before the +next day became fainter and fainter. Ought he to turn the whole house +upside down in the middle of the night? If he woke the son, he would +wake the father too; and it was a decidedly ill-advised method of +improving his acquaintance with Monsieur de Montreville, to call at his +house between two and three o'clock in the morning. + +But Dubourg walked on, even while he reflected thus; like a lover, who +has sworn never to see his faithless one again, but who prowls +constantly about her abode and always ends by going in, still repeating: +"I will never see her again!"--At such time, reason speaks, but passion +guides our footsteps. Poor mortals! is it your fault, pray, that passion +so often carries the day? + +As he approached the house, Dubourg's eyes were agreeably surprised by +the appearance of a double row of private carriages, whose lanterns +lighted a large part of the street. He quickened his pace; the carriages +were most numerous in front of the Comte de Montreville's house, and the +courtyard was filled with coupés, landaus, and vis-à-vis. The coachmen +were talking together, the footmen swearing impatiently; servants +hurried to and fro across the courtyard. Lamps on the carriage-stones +and on the broad steps banished the darkness, and delicious strains of +music floated out through the windows of the beautiful salon, +brilliantly lighted by thousands of candles, forming a strong contrast +with the depressing silence that reigned a short distance away. + +Dubourg no longer walked: he ran, he leaped, he flew. The sight of the +lanterns, the noise made by so numerous a company, and the strains of +the contra-dances within, drove from his mind the serious thoughts which +had begun to monopolize it. + +"There's a party going on," he cried, "a ball! Idiot that I am! to +forget that this was Thursday, monsieur le comte's reception day; and +they say he gives delightful parties. Frédéric has invited me several +times; he said he wanted to introduce me to his father. Hum! it rested +only with me to go into the best society, to make acquaintances who +would have given me a boost in the world. But, no; it isn't in my power +to be sensible and leave those damned billiard-tables! Ah! I recognize +that tune; it's by Rossini; a three-step. I danced to it at Vauxhall, +with the stout blonde." + +Dubourg was already in the courtyard, threading his way among carriages, +coachmen, and footmen. No one had paid any attention to him; and, if he +had been suitably dressed, he might have entered the salons, and, +perhaps, have played cards and danced, without attracting the notice of +the host; for at such large functions, it not infrequently happens that +the master of the house fails to see and speak with all of his guests. + +But Dubourg stopped under the windows of the salon on the first floor, +where dancing was in progress. In order to keep in the background, he +had walked away from the brilliantly lighted steps and taken his stand +in the shadow of a huge berlin, whence he could see the ball and +distinguish the dancers. + +He was tempted for a moment to enter the salon; but, upon glancing down +at his dress, he realized that it was not an opportune moment to appear +before monsieur le comte, who was a great stickler for etiquette. His +coat was blue, with metal buttons; he wore high boots and a black +cravat. That was a very suitable costume in which to play écarté and +talk nonsense at Mademoiselle Delphine's, but it would have been +exceedingly out of place at Monsieur de Montreville's reception. + +"Ah! if I had kept my aunt's five hundred francs," he muttered again, as +he turned his eyes from his costume to the ballroom, "I should have +outshone all those fine clothes!" + +As he watched the dancing and eyed the ladies through the windows, most +of which were open because of the heat, Dubourg spied a table with a +green cloth in a smaller salon, at which two middle-aged men had just +taken their seats. They were soon surrounded by onlookers, and the table +was covered with gold. + +In order to obtain a better view of the small salon, Dubourg climbed up +behind the carriage by which he was standing; there he could watch the +game perfectly, and could see the hand of one of the players, who was +sitting with his back to the window. + +"How lucky they are!" he thought; "they are playing écarté. The deuce! +it's a warm old game; at least thirty louis a side! If I still had my +aunt's money, I could bet from here. What am I saying? If I ever touch +cards again, may I be damned! Ah! there's the same hand that I lost my +last game on; and I ought to have won it; I played according to rule. +Well! what the devil is he doing? He's going to ask for cards!" + +And Dubourg, oblivious of the fact that he was on top of a carriage in +the courtyard, shouted: + +"Don't take any cards! Play your hand, play it, I tell you! I'll answer +for the point!" + +The voice surprised the players beyond words. They turned and stared, +and questioned each other. + +"Who was that who undertook to advise me?" demanded the old man whose +turn it was to play. "Has he got more at stake than I have, to give him +the right to talk like that? Why don't you answer, messieurs?" + +"The voice came from the courtyard," said a young man near the window. + +"From the courtyard! from the courtyard! Do you mean to say that those +rascally footmen presume to watch us play and to make remarks?" + +And the old gentleman with the powdered head left his seat and looked +into the courtyard. Dubourg jumped down from the carriage, and the shock +woke the horses; whereupon they began to prance, and tried to run. The +drowsy coachmen rubbed their eyes, thinking that the ball was over; +those who were talking hurried to their seats, and those in the street, +observing the commotion in the courtyard, did the same; while the +coachman and footmen of the carriage on which Dubourg had perched +struggled to pacify the horses. + +Meanwhile, Dubourg had slunk away by the side of the house. + +"It seems that I must always put my foot in it!" he muttered. "Here are +thirty coachmen and as many footmen all stirred up, and a pair of horses +have nearly trampled on me, just because I attempted to advise that old +fellow who doesn't know how to play the game and was going to ask for +cards when he ought to take every trick! That's the last time I'll ever +meddle in other people's business." + +As Dubourg crept along by the wall, he came to a door just as a servant +came out to ascertain the cause of the noise in the courtyard. Dubourg +recognized Frédéric's valet, and instantly accosted him. + +"Where is your master, Germain?" + +"Ah! is it you, monsieur?" said the servant, who had often seen Dubourg +with his young master. "Have you come to the ball?" + +"No, no; I have no desire to dance. Where is your master, I ask you?" + +"Oh! Monsieur Frédéric is dancing. There are some beautiful women +inside, and he's an amateur, you know." + +"The deuce! I would like to speak with him; I have something very +important to say to him, but I don't want to disturb him, or to go into +the salon; I am not dressed." + +"If you wish, monsieur, I will take you to Monsieur Frédéric's +apartment; you can wait there comfortably until he retires." + +"That's a delightful idea of yours, Germain; take me to Frédéric's +apartment at once." + +Germain took a candle and went before Dubourg, who was overjoyed to have +found a place to finish the night. The valet, who had seen his master +display great friendliness to Dubourg, was certain that he would not be +reproved for what he was doing. + +In due time, they arrived at the young man's apartment, which was so far +from the ballroom that the music could barely be heard. + +"Would you like me to tell my master that you are here?" inquired +Germain, as he placed the candle on a table. + +"No, it isn't worth while; I'll read while I am waiting. I am in no +hurry at all now; let him dance as long as he pleases." + +Germain left Dubourg alone; whereupon he stretched himself out in a +luxurious easy-chair and tossed away the book he had taken up. + +"To the devil with reading!" he said, assuming the position best adapted +for a nap; "it's high time for me to rest; I have earned it. Dance, +dance away! How comfortable it is in this chair, especially when one has +been within an ace of sleeping in the street! Here am I installed under +the roof of Monsieur le Comte de Montreville, a most respectable +gentleman, who has at least thirty thousand francs a year, and just one +son, whose friend I am, and whose education I aspire to finish; for they +have stuffed a heap of rubbish into his head, and have neglected to +teach him the most essential thing of all--knowledge of the human heart, +and especially of the female heart. As I am decidedly well posted in +that branch of knowledge, I propose to make something of our dear +Frédéric, and to teach him to know the world; so that he may make his +way, like me." + +While he thus communed with himself, Dubourg began to nod, and before he +had been in the easy-chair five minutes he was sleeping soundly. + + + + +II + +THE COMTE DE MONTREVILLE.--AN EVENING PARTY IN SOCIETY + + +The Comte de Montreville was, at the time that we make his acquaintance, +about sixty years old. The scion of a noble and wealthy family, he had +served in the army, married, and retired from service, and had succeeded +in coming safely through the tempests of the Revolution. + +He was a short, slender man, with a cold, stern face which commanded +respect. He did not lack intelligence, nor was he the slave of a mass of +absurd prejudices of the sort that some old men were trying to make +fashionable, like paniers and curly wigs. Monsieur de Montreville was +not one of those men who insist on retrograding while others go forward; +he followed the general current of the time, and, wise amid a multitude +of fools, he blamed only those who, from a proneness to exaggeration, +from selfishness, or from incapacity, muddied the waters of a stream +which all the efforts of all mankind could not prevent from flowing. + +But the count had been brought up strictly by his father. Accustomed +early in life to unquestioning obedience, he desired his son to be no +less submissive to him. At the age of six, young Frédéric lost his +mother. The count did not choose to marry again; he had a son to inherit +his name, and that was enough for him. He placed Frédéric at one of the +best schools in Paris. At fourteen, the young count, who was endowed +with an unusually fine intellect, had carried off several prizes. His +education was not then completed; but his father, fearing that at that +age he might form some dangerous intimacy, and impelled by his longing +to have him always by his side, in order to accustom him to absolute +obedience, took him away from the school, and gave him a private tutor. + +This tutor, in whose charge the count placed his son, and with whom we +shall soon become very well acquainted, was neither a scholar nor a man +of brains; far from it. But he was entirely at the orders of monsieur le +comte, and would not have taken his pupil out to walk without first +asking the father's permission; that was the reason for his selection, +despite his limited mental qualifications. + +The count was very fond of his son, but he would have been very sorry to +allow the full depth of his affection to appear; he would have +considered that he had forfeited his dignity and his claim to Frédéric's +respect if he had spoken to him in the kindly tone of a dear friend. But +is not our father the first friend that nature gives us? and ought the +respect we owe him to banish confidence and intimacy? + +Frédéric loved his father, but he trembled before him. Accustomed from +childhood never to reply to him, and to obey promptly his lightest word, +he had retained, as he grew to manhood, that habit of passive obedience +and that timidity which made it impossible for him to allow his heart to +speak freely in his father's presence. + +But we must do the Comte de Montreville the justice to say that he did +not abuse his power over his son. When Frédéric was eighteen, and his +education was at an end, the count dismissed the tutor, and, having sent +for the young man to come to him, addressed him thus: + +"I am content with you, Frédéric. You have responded to the pains I have +taken with your education, and I have no reason to complain of your +disposition. But you are approaching the age at which a young man should +study the world for himself. Henceforth, therefore, you are to enjoy +absolute liberty. You will continue to live in the same house with me; +but I will give you the apartment in the wing that looks on the street; +mine is at the end of the courtyard; thus you will be able to go in and +out at any hour without disturbing me. My steward has orders to supply +you with money whenever you ask for it. I know you, and I am sure that +you will not abuse this indulgence. You are at an age when young men are +eager for pleasure; enjoy yourself, indulge in the follies +characteristic of your years; I mean those that lead neither the heart +nor the mind astray. You are easily moved, you adore all women! but this +enthusiasm will vanish and never return. Be more particular about +forming intimacies with men of your age; do not make friends too +hurriedly: one should be more exacting in the choice of a friend than of +a mistress. However, I shall not lose sight of you altogether; I trust +that the principles I have instilled into you will keep you from any +reprehensible excess, and that I shall have no reason to repent of +having given you liberty of action." + +Frédéric, deeply touched by this harangue, would have rushed into his +father's arms; but the count, repressing that affectionate impulse, +which his own heart shared, confined himself to giving him his hand to +press, and added in a voice that trembled slightly: + +"In a few years, I will look to your future; I will see about finding a +suitable wife for you. But the time for that has not come yet; enjoy +your youth, and do not abuse it." + +Having said this, the count hastily left the room, for the conversation +had moved him; he felt tears in his eyes, and it would have distressed +him to allow Frédéric to see them. + +Two years had passed since this interview, during which Frédéric, now +his own master, had followed the first impulse of his heart. Endowed +with an ardent and sensitive nature, Frédéric was certain speedily to +feel the pangs of love. At eighteen, most young men say to themselves: +"I must fall in love," as they say: "I must dance, or gamble, or ride." +But the young count did not treat love so lightly: his inexperienced +heart loved or believed that it loved sincerely, and desired to be +repaid in kind; treachery broke his heart, and he wept bitterly over the +infidelity of a mistress. + +Frédéric had a fine figure, and a most attractive face, dignified and +sweet; his eyes expressed all that his heart felt. But he had not yet +acquired the careless tone and the free and easy manners of the dandies +of the day; he did not sway back and forth as he talked, he did not +smile into mirrors, he did not deal in the airy nothings which are so +popular in salons, and had not the art of looking a woman in the eye to +tell her that she was adorable. And as such cavalierish manners are +fashionable, and as the ladies care for nothing except what is +consecrated by the goddess of fashion, they considered Frédéric rather +sentimental, awkward even, and said to one another: + +"He's not very bad, but he needs to be trained." + +A _petite-maîtresse_ can hardly attach herself to a novice; she may +indulge a fancy for him, but only a reprobate can inspire a _grande +passion_; that is why poor Frédéric was constantly deceived and thrown +over by his mistresses. + +It was at Tortoni's that he had made the acquaintance of Dubourg. On +that day, the philosopher, being in funds, had created an uproar at that +café, where he was entertaining four of his friends. Several strangers, +annoyed by the noise they made, tried to impose silence on them; +Dubourg's only reply was to throw the remains of a bowl of punch at +their heads. They sprang to their feet, shouting and threatening, and +during the quarrel Dubourg's four friends deemed it prudent to disappear +in rapid succession. He, enraged by their cowardly conduct in abandoning +him, was still holding out against his adversaries, when Frédéric +espoused his quarrel and offered to act as his second. Dubourg accepted, +and a duel took place the next day. Dubourg's antagonist was slightly +wounded, and the affair had no more serious results; but it served to +cement the friendship thus formed between Dubourg and Frédéric. The +former, although nearly ten years the young count's senior, was far from +being as reasonable as he; but his unfailing gayety pleased Frédéric, +who often felt the need of his friend's merriment to help him to forget +the infidelities of his charmers. + +Now that we know the Comte de Montreville and his son, let us enter the +salons, where the most brilliant society of the capital was assembled, +because, as Dubourg had said, it was the count's reception day. + +The company was scattered through several rooms, all resplendent with +the light of innumerable candles; here there was dancing, there +card-playing; elsewhere, the guests were chatting, or strolling about, +or standing where they could get a breath of air; the heat was intense +in the cardroom, where it was almost impossible to force one's way +through the crowd of bettors. + +The ladies were remarkable for the elegance, and in some cases for the +singularity, of their toilets. As a general rule, the costumes of the +mothers are even more elaborate than those of the unmarried women. Is it +because they think that their daughters stand less in need of external +attractions? or is it true that coquetry increases as natural charm +decreases? I do not presume to decide the question. It is different with +men: with them, the ball costume, when once established, is soon adopted +by all, and those who desire to distinguish themselves have no other +resource than to dress their hair in some original way, or to devote +their attention to the knot of their cravat; but this last-mentioned +portion of the costume is beginning to be no longer a matter of choice. + +But it was nearly three o'clock, and the party was drawing to a close. +It was the best of all times for the observer to use his faculties; +there were fewer people dancing, the circulation was less impeded, and +the guests who remained ventured to talk and laugh a little. Toward the +close of a ball, informality takes the place of ceremony, and many women +do not begin to be charming until they cease to be affected. Some +persons who had not previously had an opportunity to speak together were +conversing in a corner of the salon. Young men chatted with the pretty +partners, whom they invited from choice rather than necessity. The +ladies smiled more sweetly upon their escorts; people drew nearer +together, they knew one another better. + +Monsieur de Montreville walked about his salons with the amiable manner +of a host who excels in the art of doing the honors. He talked with an +elderly marchioness who was sitting alone on a sofa; he said a +courteous word to a lady who was not dancing; and, on his way to her, +found time to bestow a compliment or two on the young dancers; he saw to +it that the punch was passed around, and the ices; he spent a moment +looking over the écarté table, and if somebody was wanted to take a bet +he was always ready. + +But what was Frédéric doing, leaning against that mantel-shelf? he +seemed to be devoting his whole attention to the dance; but was it +really the quadrille which interested him so deeply? and why, if he was +thinking of nothing but that pretty maiden's agile movements, did he +seem to be suffering? Yes, to the keen observer, his tranquillity was +assumed, the smile which passed over his lips when he was spoken to was +forced and unnatural. Frédéric was preoccupied, but not with the dance. +A few feet away from him a young woman was seated, a young woman not +more than twenty years old, although she had been three years married to +a sexagenarian notary, who was in the cardroom at that moment. + +Madame Dernange was very pretty; her vivacity, the sparkle of her eyes, +her costume, her brilliant intellect, everything about her had a +dazzling effect: she attracted, subjugated, enslaved, with a glance; +but, as she knew the power of her charms, she sought constantly to add +to the number of her adorers. At sixteen, she married Monsieur Dernange, +without the slightest affection for him; but she married him joyfully. +She was impatient to be her own mistress, and to give a free rein to her +penchant for flirtation. + +With a husband nearly sixty, she was very certain of being able to do +just what she chose; and, in fact, Monsieur Dernange left her perfectly +untrammelled. She was seen at all receptions, balls, festivities of +every description. Sometimes her husband escorted her, but generally he +went to bed about the time that his wife left the house; which did not +prevent them from leading a very peaceful life. It is a very simple +matter to live happily with your wife: all you have to do is just to +allow her to do whatever she desires. + +Monsieur Dernange had an abundance of _savoir vivre_; he was enchanted +to have his wife enjoy herself. Many people declared that the young +woman did not abuse his confidence, and it is very possible: she was a +great flirt, but flirts love no one; however, it is not well to trust +them too far. + +Frédéric had not been able to look upon the brilliant Madame Dernange +with an indifferent eye. She had had no difficulty in setting him on +fire with a glance, and with a glance she had realized her triumph. The +young Comte de Montreville was not a conquest to be disdained; Madame +Dernange resolved to fasten him to her chariot, and for that nothing +more was necessary than a glance or two, an occasional smile, a faint +pressure of the hand, and a veiled remark uttered in a voice that seemed +to tremble slightly. And the coquette used all her powers with such art! +She was not in love, and she knew so well how to win love! A person who +loves sincerely has much more difficulty in making an impression than +one who does not love at all; for the latter is able to avail herself of +all her advantages, while the other, striving to appear amiable, is +often only awkward and embarrassed. Ninon said that, and Ninon knew what +she was talking about. + +Poor Frédéric very soon succumbed to that treatment; he believed that +she loved, yes, adored him! and for a few days he lost his head. But at +this party of his father's a young and gorgeous colonel had made his +appearance; he was a man notorious for his _bonnes fortunes_, his +amorous adventures; a man, in a word, whom any woman might be proud to +number among her captives, and Madame Dernange had at once determined to +achieve this new triumph. + +Poor Frédéric! you were utterly forgotten: she no longer gave a thought +to you, but was engrossed by the handsome colonel. Now and again, she +deigned to smile sweetly upon you, it is true; but you were in love, you +were jealous, and you saw that the coquette instantly turned her eyes +upon the man she desired to enslave. + +Several times the young man had approached the scintillating Dernange; +he wished to show her that he had detected her perfidy; but she +contented herself with smiling at him, and saying: + +"What on earth is the matter with you to-night, Monsieur de Montreville? +You have a solemn air which is most amusing." + +How comforting such words are to a jealous lover! Frédéric made no +reply, but walked away with rage in his heart, while the coquette +laughed long and loud at a bright remark made by the colonel, or by some +other of her adorers. + +Frédéric was on pins and needles all the evening; and, toward the close +of the festivities, seeing Madame Dernange on a sofa, on which the +colonel also had taken his seat, he stationed himself a few steps away. +He leaned against a mantel, with his back turned to them, and pretended +to be engrossed by the dance; but he did not lose a word of what was +said on the sofa. The colonel was amiable and gallant; he strove to make +himself agreeable to Madame Dernange, and she put forth all her powers +and played with him with her usual grace. She laughed so heartily, she +was so pretty, so fascinating, when she desired to make a favorable +impression! There was a constant exchange of compliments and clever +retorts, during which poor Frédéric was all on fire. If he had not held +himself in check, he would have insulted the colonel and overwhelmed the +faithless one with reproaches. Luckily, he retained his senses +sufficiently to realize all the impropriety of such a scene, and all the +ridicule it would bring upon him; for in love intrigues the party who +complains, and who is betrayed, is always laughed at. It is said: the +_vanquished_ pay the fine; we might vary this proverb slightly, and thus +make it truer, except in England, where husbands are in the habit of +exacting compensation in money when they are in the position which I +understand by _vanquished_. + +The colonel paid his court in military fashion--that is to say, he made +much progress in a short time. Unluckily, this method is often +successful. Unluckily for timid lovers, that is; or is not she the best +who makes us happy most promptly? Frédéric heard him ask Madame +Dernange's permission to call to pay his respects. The respects of a +colonel of hussars! Frédéric was bathed in cold perspiration at the +thought. The pretty woman made some resistance; she laughed and joked, +and said that he must ask her husband first; then added, with a rippling +laugh: + +"But, no; no, you needn't! Monsieur Dernange will have no objection." + +The colonel was urgent, and he received permission. Frédéric was choking +with rage; he walked hastily away, for he could stand it no longer. He +went into a room which was empty for the moment, a large number of the +guests having already taken their leave. + +He threw himself into an easy-chair. The room was but dimly lighted by +the flickering candles in glass globes; he could abandon himself without +reserve to his feelings. He drew his handkerchief, he was choking; his +eyes were filled with tears. A young man almost always pays with tears +the fees of his apprenticeship in society. In two or three years, he +will laugh at the misfortune that now drives him to despair. After being +deceived, he will deceive in his turn; but he will never again be so +foolish as to fix his fancy on a coquette, and it may be that some +hearts that love him sincerely will be rejected by him, for the innocent +often have to pay for the guilty. But, let us wait: it is possible that +Frédéric will always retain that emotional nature, that constancy in +love, which now cause him to regret the loss of a heart that he never +possessed. + +The words _faithless_, _fickle_, _traitress_, issued from his mouth, +followed by long sighs. For more than half an hour he had been buried in +his reflections. The candles had gone out, the music had ceased. Several +people passed him without attracting his attention, nor was he, sitting +in a dark corner, noticed by them. Some ladies came into the room to get +their shawls, which they had left on a couch not far from Frédéric. But +a familiar voice awoke the echoes in his heart: it was the voice of +Madame Dernange, talking with one of her friends. They seemed in +excellent spirits. + +"What sport I have had!" said the notary's wife. "That colonel is really +very attractive!" + +"But, my dear, did you see the wry face Frédéric made?" + +"Yes, indeed I did, and I was strongly tempted to laugh!" + +"You drove him to despair." + +"What a calamity! That young man is romantic and sentimental enough to +give one the blues; he's an idiot!" + +"Oh! he's a very pretty fellow, my dear; and when he has got rid of that +schoolboy air, and has acquired the tone of fashionable gallantry, +you'll see how popular he will be!" + +"When I choose to amuse myself with him again, I have only to say a +word, to glance at him, and he will be at my feet. But give me my shawl, +which you have had in your hand an hour. The colonel is waiting to +escort me to my carriage." + +When the ladies had gone, Frédéric rose. He found it difficult to +believe his ears. Shame, jealousy, anger, filled his heart, where love +had already ceased to fill any space; for his self-esteem had been +wounded, and wounded self-esteem soon triumphs over love. + +In this frame of mind, Frédéric retired to his apartment; he slammed the +door as he entered, and thereby woke Dubourg with a start. + + + + +III + +TRAVELLING PLANS.--MONSIEUR MÉNARD.--EN ROUTE. + + +"I count four!" cried Dubourg, springing to his feet; while Frédéric, +surprised to find him there, stared at him a moment in silence, then +abandoned himself unreservedly to the pleasure of pouring out his heart +and telling his sorrows to his friend. + +"Ah! my dear Dubourg! it must have been heaven that sent you." + +"No; it was my landlord, who has turned me out of the house." + +"At last I have found a heart which understands mine, which will +appreciate my distress and pity my torments." + +"Have you been betting on the wrong side, too?" + +"The treacherous, fickle creature!" + +"Luck is a woman, my friend; that tells the whole story." + +"Yes, and a very heartless woman, too! If you knew what she dared to say +about me!" + +"What's that! has luck been talking about you?" + +"I am an idiot! Indeed, she is right; I was an idiot to love her! But +it's all over, yes, forever! She thinks that she can bring me to her +feet, enslave me again, with a word and a smile! But, no, I will not be +her dupe again; I know her now!" + +Dubourg rubbed his eyes and looked at Frédéric, who was pacing the floor +with an air of desperation, sometimes stopping to beat his forehead, +sometimes smiling bitterly. + +"Who in the devil are you talking about, my dear fellow?" + +"Why, Madame Dernange, that woman whose heart is as false as her face is +pretty, that coquette whom I have adored for two months, and who, as I +believed, loved me. But, my dear Dubourg, she was making a fool of me." + +"And that surprises you? Ah! my poor Frédéric, what a boy you still +are!" + +"She made me believe that she reciprocated my love; and this evening, a +new-comer, a colonel, has stolen her heart from me, apparently without +much difficulty. I was strongly tempted to insult the fellow and kill +him." + +"Would that have made your Madame Dernange less fickle?" + +"No, of course not; that is what I said to myself." + +"In making love to her, he did what any other man would have done in his +place. You ought not to bear him any grudge for it; on the contrary, you +ought to be grateful to him, for he has taught you to know a woman who +was making a fool of you." + +"I believe you are right," said Frédéric sadly, seating himself in an +easy-chair, while Dubourg, now wide awake, thought it a fitting moment +to deliver a lecture to his friend. + +"Listen to me, my dear Frédéric; I am older than you are, I have seen a +good deal of the world, and I have a large store of experience, although +I still do foolish things. Now, let me tell you that you have an +unfortunate tendency to indulge in sentimental and romantic passions, +which will do you a bad turn some day. You absolutely insist on being +loved, adored, if you will! Damnation! do you mean to pass your life +sighing? Is that the way a young man ought to make love? It isn't that +you are in reality more constant than other men, for this is your +seventh ill-fated passion in the year that I have known you. The great +trouble is that your seven passions have all left you first, whereas you +ought to have taken the initiative. However, you have always found +consolation thus far, and you will this time too, I promise you. But, my +friend, don't, I implore you, take on so seriously for what ought to be +simply a youthful folly. You must have a certain amount of sentiment, to +gratify the ladies, but you mustn't overdo it; because, you see, excess +of sentiment kills sentiment; and what I am saying to you is perfectly +reasonable; I am sure that your father, the count, would agree with me, +if he were here, and that he would be overjoyed to find that you have a +friend who gives you nothing but good advice, and who would give you a +lot more--if he had not lost last night the five hundred francs his poor +aunt sent him." + +Frédéric had not listened very attentively to Dubourg's speech; but he +had grown calmer, because the most violent tempests are always of the +shortest duration, and the young man believed himself to be much more in +love than he really was. + +"How does it happen that I find you here in the middle of the night?" he +asked Dubourg, at last. + +"My dear fellow--what do you suppose?--a succession of unlucky +circumstances. In the first place, my landlord, who is a genuine +_Vulture_; secondly, an evening party at little Delphine's--you know, I +took you there once; but as you must always have a touch of sentiment in +everything, you never went again; and yet, she would have given you +some, for your money, that would have been worth quite as much as Madame +Dernange's. Lastly, I played, and I lost all that I possessed! Really, +I didn't know which way to turn. But I thought of you; I know how loyal +your friendship is. At first, I didn't expect to see you until +to-morrow; but, finding everything in commotion in this house, it +occurred to me that I might wait for you here; and I have had a nap +while your charmer was being spirited away from you." + +"Poor Dubourg!" + +"Yes, very poor, in truth!" + +"Listen; I have an idea." + +"Let's hear it." + +"I am sick of life in Paris." + +"I shall soon be much sicker of it, as I haven't a sou." + +"The sight of all these coquettes makes me ill." + +"Oh! it's sure to do that." + +"I propose to run away from the disloyal hussies." + +"I don't know just where you can go to avoid them." + +"These parties where you talk without saying anything; where you make +acquaintances, but not friends; where you go because you have nothing +else to do, rather than for pleasure,--I am tired of the whole business. +I have been going into society only two years and a half, and I am sick +of it already. This is my plan----" + +"Do you mean to become a hermit?" + +"No; but I mean to leave Paris for some time; I mean to travel, to visit +different countries; in that way, by comparing the manners and customs +of the different peoples, by admiring the wonders and beauties of +nature, a man can best form his mind and his judgment and increase his +store of knowledge; and in that way the heart is made acquainted with +pleasures which it could never know in these worldly gatherings, +inspired by idleness and governed by etiquette." + +"Powerfully argued!" cried Dubourg, rising from his reclining-chair; +"you must travel, my dear fellow, there is nothing better for the young. +But when a man travels alone, he is always bored to death; one can't be +more than half happy when he has no one to whom he can impart the +sentiments inspired by a beautiful landscape, an ancient monument, or an +imposing ruin! Besides, you are too young to run about the world alone; +you need a companion who is wise, well informed, and, above all, +experienced; well, my friend, I offer myself as your mentor." + +"I was about to make the same suggestion, my dear Dubourg." + +"Parbleu! I accept with great pleasure." + +"But is there nothing to keep you in Paris?" + +"Oh! nothing at all, not even a cot-bed." + +"No affair of the heart?" + +"Oh! with respect to affairs of the heart, I am not like you! I will +form attachments as we go along, or, better still, I'll give them up +altogether. My mind is made up; I propose to be virtuous and orderly; +you will be edified by my behavior." + +"Well, then, my dear Dubourg, it is settled that we travel together." + +"There is just one little difficulty left: suppose your father doesn't +want you to travel?" + +"Oh! I don't think that he'll object; I have already mentioned the +subject to him, and he seemed to approve of it." + +"Then everything will go as nicely as possible; but will you tell him +that you are going to take me?" + +"Why not? I shall say that a friend of mine, who is also about to +travel, will be able to accompany me for some time." + +"All right; arrange it as best you can; if necessary, you can present me +to your father, who hardly knows me, and you will see what a dignified +and imposing manner I can assume. Above all things, don't mention little +Delphine, or my aunt, or my supposed marriage, or my triplets." + +"Never fear." + +"As for my family, if it isn't noble, that doesn't prevent its being as +good as the Comte de Montreville's, and very highly esteemed in +Bretagne." + +"Oh! mon Dieu! I know all that." + +"It isn't on your account that I say it, but your father's. So, then, +it's agreed. It is broad daylight now; I have slept enough, but you need +rest. Go to bed; during the day, you can speak to your father, and come +and tell me what he says. I'll expect you at six o'clock, at the Café de +la Rotonde." + +"Agreed." + +"By the way, I forgot! Lend me a dozen louis; I owe you thirty already, +but we will settle up when I get my next remittance from my aunt." + +"That's all right; ought there to be any settling among friends?" + +"Ah! my dear Frédéric, there aren't many friends like you!" + +Dubourg pocketed the twelve louis which Frédéric handed him; then, +leaving his friend to go to bed, he went away from the house, humming a +new couplet, and strolled along the boulevards, as well pleased as if he +had just been appointed to a twelve-thousand-franc office where he would +have nothing to do. + +During the day, Frédéric went to see his father. He trembled slightly +when he appeared before him, and the count, instead of assisting his +son to confide in him, waited silently for him to say what he wanted. + +Having bowed respectfully, Frédéric began his speech, in which he +floundered a little at times, because the count's eyes, fastened on his +face, seemed determined to read his inmost thoughts. He set forth his +project, however, and awaited in fear and trembling his father's reply. +The count seemed to reflect, and did not speak for some minutes. +Frédéric dared not break the silence, and at last the count spoke. + +"You wish to leave Paris, Frédéric?" + +"Yes, monsieur le comte." + +"Are you tired already of its pleasures--balls and parties? It is rather +early for that." + +Frédéric sighed, but made no reply. + +"You haven't told me everything," continued the count, with a sarcastic +smile. "Confess that some disappointment in love----" + +Frédéric blushed, and lowered his eyes; whereupon the count went on, in +a gentler tone: + +"Well, all that sort of thing belongs to your age. Travel; I am willing; +it cannot fail to be useful to you. But if your presence should become +necessary, I trust that nothing would delay your return?" + +"Oh! father, a single word from you, and I will be with you." + +"Very good; I rely upon your word." + +"A friend of mine, a young man named Dubourg, of an old Breton family, +is also making arrangements to travel for some time. If you are willing, +I will join forces with him." + +"No, monsieur; I am not willing. I have heard of this Monsieur Dubourg, +whom you call your friend, and, although I have seen him with you only +two or three times, I know enough of him to be unwilling that he should +be my son's travelling companion. His family is respectable, I know, but +Monsieur Dubourg is a great reprobate, they say." + +"I promise you, father----" + +"Don't interrupt me, monsieur. I cannot prevent your associating in +Paris with such light-headed characters; but when you are to travel for +your instruction, and to mature your judgment, I tell you again that a +Monsieur Dubourg is not a proper person for you to travel with. I don't +propose that you shall take Germain either; that fellow has been +behaving badly for some time. Besides, when you are travelling you +should be able to do without a valet. With your money, you will find +servants enough wherever you stop." + +"Am I to go alone, then, father?" + +"No; you are not twenty-one yet; you are too young to be left to your +own devices. Stay--yes--he's the very man you need: Monsieur Ménard will +go with you." + +"What, monsieur le comte, my tutor?" + +"He hasn't been that for a long time, and he will not go with you in +that capacity, my son, but as a friend, a judicious adviser. Monsieur +Ménard is an educated man, and, in addition to that, is the mildest and +most patient of men. You know him well enough, I think, not to regret +having him for your travelling companion. Monsieur Ménard is not a mere +pedant who will constantly reprove you for enjoying yourself; he is +attached to you, and he will be able, I trust, to prevent the son of the +Comte de Montreville from forgetting what he owes to himself." + +"But, father----" + +"Enough. I will write to Monsieur Ménard; if he accepts, as I think he +will, you can set out to-morrow." + +Frédéric left his father, not overpleased with his choice, although he +knew that Monsieur Ménard was an excellent man. He would have preferred +to travel with Dubourg, whose inexhaustible gayety harmonized perfectly +with his own sentimental disposition; a fact which seems strange, at +first blush, but which is very common: small men love tall women, and +small women large men; loquacious folk like those who say little; +gourmands never dine satisfactorily except with those who are +abstemious; the strong form alliances with the weak; men of genius +select wives who attend strictly to their household duties; female +authors rarely have men of intellect for their husbands; ostentatious +people cannot live comfortably except with those who make no +pretensions; knaves consort with men of probity; the most sentimental +women often love the most frivolous men, and the most loyal of the one +sex will give her heart to the most fickle of the other; lastly, +libertines pursue innocence, and innocence often yields to the +seductions of a ne'er-do-well. Extremes meet, contrasts are drawn +together, and a painter finds his most beautiful effects in the +opposition of light and shadow. + +"Well," said Dubourg, when Frédéric joined him at the appointed place; +"what news?" + +"Why, not very good." + +"Doesn't your father want you to travel?" + +"Oh! yes, he has consented." + +"In that case, I don't see why everything isn't all right." + +"But--he--he isn't willing----" + +"Go on." + +"He isn't willing that I should travel with you." + +"Why not?" + +"Because--he says----" + +"He says---- Well, go on." + +"He says that you are a--reprobate." + +"Why, he has never seen me more than three times!" + +"It seems that somebody has talked to him about you." + +"There are always people who make it their business to slander +innocence. Do you know that, if monsieur le comte were not your father, +I---- Although, after all, he is not far from right. But if he knew how +thoroughly I have reformed! and how I have preached at myself since last +night!--Well, what else?" + +"He suggests as my travelling companion my former tutor, Monsieur +Ménard." + +"The idea of giving a tutor to a young man who is almost twenty-one! +That sort of thing positively makes me ill! No matter; let us allow +monsieur le comte to have his way; we will carry out our plans, all the +same." + +"How?" + +"You won't be sorry to have me travel with you, will you?" + +"Surely not." + +"And I shall not be sorry to leave Paris for a time; that will give my +creditors, who are always at my heels, a chance to rest a bit." + +"But my father?" + +"Don't you worry. Just don't say a word, and I will arrange matters so +that---- By the way, what sort of a man is this tutor?" + +"Oh! he's the best fellow in the world; but he's not a genius." + +"So much the better." + +"He thinks a great deal of a learned man." + +"I'll talk Latin, Greek, English, to him; yes, and Chinese, if he +doesn't understand it." + +"I fancy that he has never travelled, except on the map." + +"I'll tell him that I have been round the world." + +"But it flatters him to be in the company of persons of high rank." + +"I'll assume a rank that will be high enough for him." + +"In heaven's name, what is your scheme?" + +"I'll arrange it all, I tell you; go back to your father, and start off +with your tutor. By the way, get all the money you can, for money is +never a disadvantage when you're travelling; and be sure to let me know +what time you are to start, and in what direction you are going." + +The young men separated, Dubourg having told Frédéric where to send him +word of the time at which he was to start, and having refused to divulge +any of the details of his plan. + +Let us leave them for a moment, while we make the acquaintance of +Monsieur Ménard, of whom the young count has given us only a faint +sketch, and whom it is essential to know before we travel in his +company. + +Monsieur Ménard was a man of about fifty years of age, very short and +stout, and with a very fat face. He had a double chin, which was quite +in harmony with a nose like a huge chestnut. Like Monsieur Tartufe, he +had red ears and a florid complexion. His stomach was beginning to +embarrass him a little, but his short legs, with their enormous calves, +seemed strong enough to support an even heavier bulk. + +Monsieur Ménard had passed almost the whole of his life in teaching +young people; he had retained the mild and benign manners which a tutor +employed in good society always adopts with his pupils. He was not a +great scholar, but he was proud of what he did know, and was by no means +insensible to praise. His narrow intellect had become even more confined +by having no exercise except with children; but Monsieur Ménard was +upright, kindly, and peaceably disposed; his only weakness was a +tendency to feel that his stature was increased when he conversed with a +lord, and his only fault a very pronounced fondness for the pleasures of +the table, which was sometimes the occasion of a slight indisposition; +not that he drank immoderately, but because he returned too often to a +truffled turkey or a salmi of partridges. + +The Comte de Montreville summoned Monsieur Ménard, who hastened to obey +the summons and joyfully accepted the proposition that was made to him. +To travel in a comfortable post chaise with the Comte de Montreville's +son, with that one of his pupils who reflected the greatest credit on +him! that was unexampled good fortune for the excellent tutor, who +happened to be unemployed at the moment. + +The count urged him to have an eye upon Frédéric, but not to thwart his +caprices when it was simply a question of indulging in the follies +characteristic of his years. As he was well pleased with his son's ready +submission in the matter of a travelling companion, he determined to +reward him by allowing him to go wherever he chose. + +Everything being settled between the count and the two travellers, +Monsieur de Montreville handed Monsieur Ménard a considerable sum of +money, which was to be at Frédéric's disposal. + +"Travel in a manner befitting your rank, my son," said the count; "but +do not squander this money foolishly. I have succeeded, by leading +always an orderly, regular life, in saving a considerable fortune in +anticipation of your marriage; but you must not encroach upon your +patrimony. If you need more money, however, Monsieur Ménard will let me +know." + +Frédéric promised to behave himself; but he had just written to Dubourg +that he was to start the next morning, and that he should take the Lyon +road. + +A young man's preparations are soon made. Monsieur Ménard's took a +little longer; like the prudent man he was, he did not take his place in +the carriage until he had bestowed one of Lesage's pâtés in the box, and +a bottle of madeira in his pocket. + +At last, everything was ready. Frédéric was overjoyed to leave Paris and +Madame Dernange. The poor boy fancied that she would regret him, and +that his departure would make her miserable! He was certain to lose all +such illusions after he had travelled a short time. + +The carriage was waiting; the postilion was in the saddle. Frédéric +pressed his father's hand to his heart, Monsieur Ménard bowed six times +to the count and entered the chaise backward in order to have the honor +of continuing to bow. Frédéric jumped into his seat, the postilion +cracked his whip, and they were off for Italy. + + + + +IV + +A NOVEL WAY OF MAKING ACQUAINTANCES.--BARON POTOSKI + + +The two travellers were not far from Paris, when the conversation +between them began to flag; at the outset, Monsieur Ménard expressed to +Frédéric his very great pleasure in being in his company, and Frédéric +thanked him; then they admired the view at several points. But soon the +younger man's thoughts reverted to Madame Dernange and other disloyal +fair ones, and he became pensive and silent; whereupon Monsieur Ménard +turned his attention to the pâté with which he had taken care to supply +himself, and entered upon a conversation with it, which he interrupted +only to say a word or two to the bottle of madeira. + +"I imagine that we shall have a delightful trip," said Frédéric, +emerging from his reverie. + +"I agree with you, monsieur le comte; we have everything requisite for +it," replied Monsieur Ménard, with a smile, making haste to swallow what +he had in his mouth. "If monsieur le comte would like to taste this +pâté--it is delicious." + +"No, thanks, my dear Ménard; I am not hungry yet." + +"As monsieur le comte pleases." + +"Oh! I beg you, no _monsieur le comte_ between ourselves; call me +Frédéric, that is much better." + +"But, monsieur le comte--when we are travelling--at public-houses--it is +well that people should know that they have the honor----" + +"Yes, of course; so that they can make us pay four times the usual +prices. I tell you again that I want to avoid all those ceremonies which +add nothing to the pleasure of a journey." + +"You will at least allow me to call you Monsieur de Montreville; for +monsieur le comte your father might be angry if he knew that you +travelled incognito." + +"By the way, how much money did he give you?" + +"Eight thousand francs, monsieur." + +"Eight thousand francs! that's none too much!" + +"Oh! Monsieur de Montreville, surely it is enough, when we have in +addition a comfortable carriage and good horses. We are not going to the +world's end. And then, you know, your father said that we could ask him +for more, in an emergency." + +"True; besides, we're not going to do anything foolish." + +"And it would be imprudent to carry a larger sum on a journey. We are +going to Italy, and that country is infested with brigands; between Rome +and Naples, especially, they say the highroads are very dangerous. When +we get there, we must take every precaution." + +Frédéric made no reply; he was thinking of Dubourg, and was surprised +that he had heard nothing from him. They were already nine leagues from +Paris, on a very fine road, where it was difficult to imagine any +possible mishap. + +Suddenly the loud cracking of a postilion's whip announced that there +were other travellers behind them. Frédéric looked back, and saw a small +berlin coming up at a gallop. The clatter drew rapidly nearer, +indicating that the berlin was overtaking them and would soon pass them +by. A cloud of dust enveloped them, but the road was so wide that there +was no need for them to turn out. But just as they expected to see the +berlin whirl by, it collided with their carriage; and the shock was so +violent that the post chaise was overturned beside the ditch, into which +Monsieur Ménard was thrown headlong, shrieking at the top of his voice. + +The berlin stopped. The postilion of the chaise reviled the other +postilion, calling him fool and blockhead and drunkard, for running into +him on a road where three carriages could easily pass. The other +postilion limited his reply to a sneering laugh, which inflamed his +confrère's wrath. Frédéric, who was not injured, went to Monsieur +Ménard, to ascertain what his condition was. He proved to be more +frightened than hurt; he felt himself all over, straightened his wig, +and kept repeating that the fall would certainly upset his digestion. + +Meanwhile, the postilion of the berlin had dismounted; after exchanging +a few words with his passenger, he, hat in hand, approached our +travellers, who were still in the ditch, and, after apologizing for his +awkwardness, said to them that Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava +and Sandomir, requested permission to come in person to inquire for +their welfare, and to offer them such assistance as was in his power. + +When he heard the postilion declaim the name and titles of his +passenger, Monsieur Ménard scrambled out of the ditch, and removed from +under his waistcoat one end of his ruff, which his fall had rumpled. + +"Tell your master that we appreciate his courtesy," said Frédéric; "but +that it is unnecessary for him to put himself out; I think that the +accident will have no serious results." + +"But there's something broken in our chaise," said Monsieur Ménard; "and +we might avail ourselves of Monsieur le Palatine Pota--Poto--Potiouski's +offer, to reach the next village." + +The tutor had not finished speaking, when the soi-disant Polish nobleman +alighted from his berlin and walked toward them, with his hand on his +hip, affecting a most dignified air and carriage. Frédéric looked up and +recognized Dubourg; he was on the point of laughing outright, when his +friend forestalled him by running toward him, exclaiming: + +"I cannot be mistaken! What a fortunate meeting! It surely is Monsieur +Frédéric de Montreville!" + +And he threw his arms about Frédéric, who also feigned surprise and +cried: + +"What! why! it is Monsieur de--Monsieur du----" + +"Baron Potoski!" whispered Dubourg. + +"Monsieur le Baron Potoski!" + +During this recognition, which took place on the edge of the ditch, +Monsieur Ménard outdid himself in salutations, pulling Frédéric gently +by his coat-tails the while, in order to lead him back to the highroad, +which seemed to him a more suitable place for his introduction to the +noble Pole. + +At last, Dubourg turned to Ménard, and said, addressing Frédéric: + +"Have I the honor of seeing monsieur le comte your father?" And he +bestowed upon the tutor the most gracious and most dignified smile +imaginable. + +"No," said Frédéric; "but he has been a second father to me. Allow me to +present Monsieur Ménard, my former tutor." + +"Monsieur Ménard!" said Dubourg, assuming an expression of unfeigned +admiration, and gazing at the tutor as one might gaze at Voltaire. +"What! can it be that this is Monsieur Ménard? Peste! I have often +heard of him; the _primus inter pares_ of tutors! How delighted I am to +make his acquaintance! _Tandem felix_, Monsieur Ménard, since I know +you." + +Monsieur Ménard did not know where he was; this deluge of courtesies and +flattery from the Palatine of Rava and Sandomir so confused and +delighted him, that his profuse salutations would have landed him in the +ditch a second time, had not Frédéric caught him opportunely. + +Dubourg finally put an end to the poor man's embarrassment by taking his +hand and pressing it hard. + +"What a great honor you do me, monsieur le baron," he stammered.--"So +you are acquainted with Baron Potoski?" he added, turning to Frédéric. + +"Acquainted with him!" was the reply, accompanied by a smile; "why, we +are close friends. Dear Dubourg!" + +"What do you say? Dubourg?" cried Ménard. + +"Yes," hastily interposed the pretended baron; "that is the name I went +by at Paris, where I was compelled to maintain the strictest incognito, +being intrusted by my government with a secret and very delicate +mission." + +"I understand, I understand," said Ménard. + +"Continue to call me Dubourg, my dear Frédéric; that was my name when I +first knew you, and it will always be dear to me." + +While Ménard went to inspect the overturned vehicle, Frédéric said to +Dubourg, in an undertone: + +"The method you employed to join me was a little violent, do you know? +You nearly killed poor Ménard and me." + +"It's that blockhead of a postilion's fault: I told him to upset me as +we passed you; but the rascal preferred to upset you. That annoys me +the more, because I expected to get a seat in your carriage, whereas I +must offer to take you in mine, which is a very different matter. Never +mind: let me talk and act. I see already that it will be easy enough to +pull the wool over this poor Ménard's eyes. But be ready to second me, +and back up what I say, when it's necessary. Above all things, don't +forget that I am Baron Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir. You +nearly spoiled everything by calling me Dubourg; luckily, I found a way +to straighten that out; but don't make any more such blunders, or I +shall be obliged to travel without you, and I assure you I shall not go +very far." + +Ménard returned and announced that one of the axles of the chaise was +broken, and that it could not be repaired before the next morning. + +"Well, messieurs," said Dubourg, "you must do me the honor to ride in my +carriage; we will stop at the first village and pass the night there, +while the local blacksmith repairs your chaise." + +This plan being adopted, they left the postilion to bring the vehicle to +the village, and our three travellers entered the Polish baron's berlin. +It was a wretched old affair, the lining patched and soiled, and so +badly hung that the passengers were jolted terribly. + +Frédéric could not restrain a smile as he stepped into the palatine's +equipage; but Dubourg hastened to say to Monsieur Ménard, who took his +place modestly on the front seat and had not as yet done more than +glance furtively at his surroundings: + +"This carriage is older than we are; it belonged to my grandfather. It +was in this same carriage that he rescued Stanislas Leczinski, when he +was pursued by his rival, Augustus, whose cause was espoused by the +Czar, while Charles XII of Sweden was the protector of Stanislas.--But +you know all that better than I do, Monsieur Ménard, for you are a +scholar." + +"Oh! monsieur le baron." + +"To return to this carriage--all my family revere it as I do; it is a +family carriage. When my father left Cracow, during a period of civil +commotion, this modest berlin contained six millions in gold and jewels; +it was the remnant of his fortune, with which he intended to live in +retirement in Bretagne, where they have delicious milk and butter." + +At this point, Frédéric, who had bitten his lips at the six millions, +began to cough to overcome his desire to laugh, while Monsieur Ménard +looked at the carriage with the utmost respect. + +"You will appreciate, Monsieur Ménard," pursued Dubourg, wiping his +forehead with a silk handkerchief, which he had thrust into his +waistcoat to give himself the aspect of a foreigner, "you will +appreciate that one becomes strongly attached to a carriage which +recalls such honorable memories. I know that it is not modern, and that +it might be hung better; twenty times, my steward has talked of having +it repainted, and of having it newly lined inside, but I always refuse. +This seat, which I now occupy, was once occupied by King Stanislas; that +in which you sit, by a princess of Hungary; and I confess, Monsieur +Ménard, that I am determined not to change this Utrecht velvet, which +has had the honor of supporting those eminent persons." + +"I share your feelings in that respect to the full, monsieur le baron," +said Ménard, who, enchanted as he was to travel with two men of +distinguished rank, was unable to contain himself when he was told that +a princess of Hungary had once sat where he was sitting. "This carriage +must be very dear to you; and I assure you, monsieur le baron, that it +rides very nicely, and that I find it very comfortable----" + +At that moment a vicious jolt threw Monsieur Ménard forward, almost into +his pupil's lap; but he added, clinging to the door: + +"_Ubi plura intent in carmine; non ego paucis offendar maculis._" + +"_Vitam impendere vero_," rejoined Dubourg. + +Frédéric looked out of the door, coughing harder than ever; while +Monsieur Ménard said, with a bow: + +"I never doubted it, monsieur le baron." + +"As I am obliged to remain incognito," said Dubourg, "I have not brought +any of my suite with me, and I confess that I am not inclined to +complain; I detest all the pomp and parade and etiquette which are the +accompaniments of high station. When I travel, I lay it all aside; I am +the man of nature, and I play the part of a simple observer. But, by the +way, my dear Frédéric, I haven't asked you yet where you are going; +would it be presumptuous in me to inquire?" + +"No, indeed, my friend; I am leaving Paris because I found there only +coquettish or heartless women, who do not understand my way of loving." + +"Well, my dear fellow, the trouble is that your way of loving is no +longer fashionable! However, this is mere amorous petulance, I see; you +are still a little romantic, a little sentimental.--We must cure +Frédéric of all such nonsense, eh, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"That doesn't come within my functions, monsieur le baron; besides, we +must overlook a little something; Seneca says, you know: _Non est +magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiæ._" + +"That is very true," Dubourg replied; "the greatest men have had their +weak points. Alexander drank too much; Antiochus dressed as Bacchus to +please Cleopatra; Æneas consulted the Cumæan sibyl; the Emperor +Maximilian died from eating too much melon. So it's not at all +surprising that Frédéric should have a too sensitive heart." + +Monsieur Ménard bowed to monsieur le baron, who had given him a small +specimen of his erudition; which added not a little to the respect he +had already conceived for him. + +"I have no definite plan," said Frédéric; "I intend, however, to visit +the countries which recall interesting events, or which have given birth +to illustrious men. One loves to tread the ground from which the genius +sprang that has outlived so many generations. In all that surrounds us, +we fancy that we recognize the great man who, by his writings, his feats +of arms, or his virtues, made his birthplace famous. In a word, my +friend, we are going, first of all, to Italy." + +"What! can it be? Why, my own purpose, like yours, is to see a little of +the world, in order to add some new light to my poor stock of knowledge. +What a delightful idea! Suppose we make the journey together?" + +"Gladly, my dear baron! it will be most agreeable to me, I assure you." + +"Upon my honor, I am grateful to the chance that led to our meeting! +What an unexpected pleasure to travel with my friend the Comte de +Montreville and the learned Monsieur Ménard, to compare our reflections +concerning the places we visit, to be enlightened by the observations, +the friendship, and the learning of so distinguished a teacher!" + +Ménard outdid himself in reverences, and began to express his thanks; +but Dubourg continued earnestly, giving him no time to reply: + +"What a delight to visit ancient Rome with you--and magnificent Genoa! +to climb with Monsieur Ménard to the summit of Vesuvius, and even to go +down into the crater, if there is no danger! How pleasant to view, in a +friend's company, the tomb of Virgil and the Grotto of the Dog, and to +ascend, with a profound scholar, the Tarpeian rock! What pleasures await +us in Switzerland, the home of William Tell! that cradle of liberty, +whose morals have retained all their purity amid revolutionary tempests! +There we shall receive the most touching hospitality in every village; +we shall eat cheese there, Monsieur Ménard--oh! such cheese! I don't +undertake to say, however, that it's as good as the cheese in Bretagne, +for there's nothing like that; a charming country, Bretagne, studded +with woods, fields, and rich pastures. Ah! what fine cows they have +there, Monsieur Ménard!" + +Frédéric nudged Dubourg, to make him leave Bretagne, whither he +constantly returned with the affection of a native. + +"In Switzerland," he continued, "one often eats cheeses fifteen or +twenty years old; the excellent Helvetians know the secret of keeping +them for an indefinite time." + +"They must be even better than our roquefort," said Ménard, who felt +sure of his ground when eating was the subject of conversation. + +"Oh! I promise you they are; compared with the old Swiss cheeses, our +roquefort is no better than neufchâtel. However, Monsieur Ménard, if +you travel with me, I shall hope to give you cheese to eat more than +once." + +"Ah! monsieur le baron!" + +"We will visit the glaciers, we will ascend the Saint-Gothard, and the +Rigi, which you have to climb on all fours. What magnificent views we +shall have! And when we go down into the canton of Les Grisons, we will +botanize. Monsieur Ménard will gather herbs. We will watch the Swiss +maidens glean; they wear very short skirts--and we shall see some fine +sights!" + +"Well, my dear master, what do you think of our plan?" queried Frédéric. +The former tutor was enchanted with it: to travel with a man of such +high rank, and so learned and agreeable, as Baron Potoski, seemed to him +great good fortune; and although the hard cushions and the jolting of +the berlin made him black and blue in spots, he felt brave enough to +travel a thousand leagues in a carriage which had held King Stanislas, +and in a seat which a princess of Hungary had occupied. + +"Most certainly I see no reason why we should not travel with monsieur +le baron," he said; "and at the first post-office I will write to +monsieur your father and tell him of our fortunate meeting; he cannot +fail to approve our plan." + +"No, no!" cried Dubourg; "on the contrary, you must not write a single +word to monsieur le comte. As I have told you, I am travelling +incognito; I don't want anybody to know where I am. My government +desires to appoint me ambassador to Turkey, but I am not at all desirous +of that distinction. Monsieur le comte might inadvertently let the cat +out of the bag, and all France would soon know my whereabouts; it will +be much better not to say anything." + +"I agree with you," said Frédéric. "What's the use of saying anything +about it to my father? He left me free to go wherever I please, and +asked Monsieur Ménard to go with me as a friend, not as a mentor. +Surely, my father would be exceedingly pleased to know that I am +travelling with monsieur le baron; but in his delight at learning that I +am in such company, he would undoubtedly betray your incognito, and you +would be obliged to leave us." + +"Yes, I understand," said Ménard; "and yet--if----" + +Dubourg, seeing that the tutor still retained some scruples, made haste +to produce his horn snuff-box, which he offered to Frédéric, looking at +him with a meaning expression. + +"Do you recognize this, my dear Frédéric? it's the one I showed you at +Paris." + +"Yes, I recognize it perfectly," said Frédéric, with no idea of +Dubourg's purpose; while Monsieur Ménard glanced at the snuff-box and +waited impatiently for the baron to explain himself. + +"Ah! it's a very precious object in my eyes!" said Dubourg, taking a +pinch of snuff. "You have no suspicion, Monsieur Ménard, to whom this +modest snuff-box belonged?" + +"No, monsieur le baron." + +"Modest as it is, I would not exchange it for one of solid gold. It was +the King of Prussia's snuff-box, Monsieur Ménard." + +"The King of Prussia's?" + +"Yes, monsieur; the great Frederick, who, as you know, was very fond of +snuff and often carried it in his pocket; still, he had snuff-boxes, +which were always very simple, like everything he carried. He himself +gave this one to my father, from whom I had it." + +"Ah! monsieur le baron, if I might dare to crave the honor----" + +And Ménard respectfully put out two fingers to take a pinch of snuff +from the Prussian king's snuff-box, which Dubourg smilingly offered him. + +Ménard took a pinch with becoming humility. He stuffed his nose full of +snuff which he considered delicious, and, when he sneezed, the poor man +fancied that he bore some slight resemblance to the King of Prussia. He +had lost his head completely; the fumes of grandeur mingled with those +of the snuff, and at the third sneeze he cried, saluting Baron Potoski +with renewed deference: + +"It certainly is not necessary to write to monsieur le comte." + + + + +V + +A VILLAGE INN, AND WHAT BEFELL OUR TRAVELLERS THERE + + +At nightfall, our travellers arrived at a village of wretched aspect. +Dubourg ordered his postilion to set them down at the best inn; but as +there was only one in the place, they must needs content themselves with +that. + +The inn in question was rarely patronized by travellers in carriages; +pedestrians were its usual guests. + +Frédéric was disinclined to stop in that wretched hamlet, but Dubourg +insisted upon passing the night there. He had reasons of his own for not +wishing to go farther with his berlin; and as Monsieur Ménard was +hungry, and the remains of his pâté had been left in the post chaise, +he endorsed Dubourg's suggestion. + +The carriage drove into a great yard filled with mud and dungheaps. Half +a score of ducks were splashing in a pool, apparently disputing +possession of it with some geese which waddled majestically around the +banks. Three pigs went grunting into every corner of the enclosure, an +old lame horse was quenching his thirst at a trough, on the edge of +which perched several hens, which laid their eggs in the house, in the +street, or in the yard, as it happened, considering probably that there +was little to choose between those places. Lastly, to complete the +picture, a number of rabbits showed their heads from time to time under +the hedge of a garden which had been turned into a warren; then fled in +alarm at the barking of a huge dog, whose duty it seemed to be to watch +the other beasts. + +There was hardly room for the berlin to pass through a gateway, whose +dilapidated gate had not been closed for a long while. On one side the +wheels sank into a deep rut, on the other they had to pass over a +dungheap; so that, for a moment, Monsieur Ménard feared that the +Palatine of Rava's venerable berlin would be overturned, and himself +with it. But he got off with nothing worse than a fright. On the arrival +of the carriage, the rabbits and pigs fled, the ducks quacked, the geese +and hens flew away, and the dog barked under the travellers' noses; +while a dozen or more of idlers, and as many peasant women, who formed +substantially the whole population of the village, stood about the +gateway to see the occupants of the carriage alight. + +"Where in the devil is he taking us?" said Frédéric, putting his head +out of the window, and instantly drawing it in again; for the wheels +had stirred up the filth which covered the ground and thereby caused it +to emit an odor ill adapted to attract the travellers. + +"Let us hope that we are not in front of the kitchen," said Monsieur +Ménard, holding his nose. + +"Don't be alarmed, messieurs," said Dubourg; "we shall be very +comfortable here; we must not judge by appearances, you know. I have +stopped at this inn, and I remember that they give you excellent rabbit +stews and omelets." + +Although it might seem surprising that a palatine should be fond of such +commonplace dishes, Monsieur Ménard at once considered the yard less +offensive; and, alighting on the heels of Dubourg, who had stepped out +on the dungheap, he looked about on all sides, trying to discover the +kitchen. + +The innkeeper appeared, with his cap over his left ear; he did not +salute the new arrivals, for, being accustomed to entertain only carters +or peasants, who care little for polite manners, he had contracted a +habit of treating all strangers with a certain familiarity; and the +sight of a carriage made little impression on him, because it was not to +such guests that he looked for the support of his establishment. + +He was a little man of fifty years or thereabout, with a slight limp, +and a bloated nose which seemed to denote intemperate habits. + +"Are you going to drink a glass of wine, messieurs?" he said, addressing +Ménard, who still had his nose in the air, trying to catch the scent of +a rabbit stew, and to whom the innkeeper's manner seemed lacking in +respect. + +"Take us to your best room, my good man," said Dubourg; "we are going to +sup and sleep here. Set everyone at work; let the fire blaze and the +spits turn, and serve our supper as soon as may be." + +"Yes," interposed Ménard, tapping the host's shoulder patronizingly; +"and understand, my friend, that you have the honor of entertaining +Monsieur le Comte Frédéric de Montreville, Monsieur le Baron Ladislas +Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir, and Monsieur Benoît Ménard, +master of arts and eminent professor." + +"I shall never have room enough to put up so many people," said the +innkeeper, while Dubourg reproved Ménard for betraying his incognito and +begged him to be more discreet in future. + +"Holà! Goton! Goton!" cried mine host, walking toward the garden; "come +and show these gentlemen into the house, while I look after the horses; +and tell my wife to see about getting supper." + +Mademoiselle Goton appeared; she was a tall, stoutly-built damsel of +twenty, dark, with black eyes, and a sunburned complexion; her features +were irregular, but her retroussé nose and her fine teeth, which she +showed constantly, her mouth being rather large, made her face decidedly +attractive. If, instead of a short stuff skirt, a waist of coarse blue +woollen cloth, and a cotton cap, Goton had worn a dress which set off +her figure; if her skin had been treated with almond paste, and her hair +by a hair-dresser, she would undoubtedly have made many conquests in +Paris. + +"Will you follow me, messieurs?" she said, smiling at the travellers; +for Mademoiselle Goton smiled very often, because it added to her +beauty; and in the smallest village, no less than in the largest city, a +woman always knows how to make the most of her advantages. Lacking a +mirror, a fountain is sufficient to train the simplest-minded. + +Dubourg estimated the servant's qualities at a glance, and, as they +followed her, he said to himself: + +"I will amuse Ménard with the supper, which shall be a good one, if I +can manage it. I can pass the time pleasantly with Mademoiselle Goton. +Ah! if I only could find some sentimental beauty to engage Frédéric's +attention! Failing a new passion, I will talk to him of Madame Dernange +and all his faithless charmers in Paris; that will serve to make his +evening pass quickly." + +The best room in the inn was the one usually occupied by the carters and +peasants. Four itinerant merchants, who had arrived an hour before our +illustrious travellers, were seated at a table, drinking, and discussing +their business affairs. + +The arrival of three new guests in no wise disturbed the four men. They +glanced at them, and continued their conversation. + +"I'll set plates for you here," said Goton, pointing to a table covered +with a glazed cloth. + +"No, no," said Dubourg; "we can't eat our supper here; you may serve us +in one of the rooms where we are to sleep." + +"But this is the eating-room." + +"That may be," said Ménard; "but monsieur le comte and monsieur le +bar--at all events, we don't choose to eat here." + +These words caused the peddlers to raise their heads, and they +scrutinized the travellers, laughing contemptuously among themselves. +Ménard, fearing that he had offended them, and dreading a scene, was +already in the passage, where he waited for the servant to come; while +Dubourg, who was not long-suffering, eyed the four drinkers in his turn. +Frédéric, his mind still engrossed by his memories, paid little heed to +what was taking place. + +"You see, Goton," said one of the four, with a sneering smile, "these +gents are too swell to eat in the same room with us. _Jarni_! we must +take care and not look at 'em too close; it might offend 'em." + +"Nobody spoke to you," said Dubourg; "try not to be too insolent, or you +may be sorry for it." + +"Oho! there's one of 'em who means to show his teeth!" + +"For heaven's sake, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, putting his nose in +at the door, "don't let this go any further! These gentlemen certainly +have no intention of----" + +"Hallo! he's a baron!" exclaimed another of the peddlers; "I took him +for a Swiss liniment-maker, with his silk handkerchief across his +breast." + +"Did you see their carriage?" said a third; "it's an old shack I +wouldn't put my donkey in!" + +"The wretches! to talk so about King Stanislas's berlin!" said Ménard; +but he made the remark in such a low tone that no one suspected that he +had spoken. + +"Once more, hold your peace!" said Dubourg, "or we'll teach you whom you +have to deal with." + +"Indeed!" said the peddlers, brandishing their cudgels; "perhaps we +might teach you something more." + +Frédéric, who had been silent thus far, took a pair of pistols from his +pocket, and, walking toward the table at which the four men were seated, +he said calmly: + +"Messieurs, whatever may be the titles we bear, we are men, and we are +quite able to prove it; we are not accustomed to using clubs, but here +is something that will make matters even between us. Everyone knows how +to fire a pistol. Which of you would like to begin with me?" + +"Yes," said Dubourg, producing in his turn a pair of pistols of heavier +calibre; "and this is for the man who comes forward next." + +At sight of the pistols, the peddlers changed color and dropped their +cudgels; those who presume too far upon their strength to insult those +whom they deem weaker than themselves, generally appear very cowardly +and foolish when confronted by such arguments. + +Goton shrieked when she saw the fire-arms; the innkeeper came limping +into the room, and Monsieur Ménard, proposing to retreat to the end of +the passage, where it was quite dark, collided with the hostess, who was +coming to find out what was happening in the living-room. + +The hostess, whose acquaintance we have not made as yet, was a woman of +fifty, short of stature, and almost as broad as she was tall. Her +corpulence had within a short time increased to such a degree that she +could hardly walk from her desk to the kitchen; even so, she had to make +a judicious and abundant use of flour to keep herself from chafing when +she walked. This difficulty in moving made her very sedentary; she +passed almost all her time in an armchair which the village carpenter +had made for her, of sufficient breadth to admit her enormous bulk. This +mode of life naturally caused her embonpoint to make rapid progress from +day to day. It was beginning to become disquieting, and the innkeeper, +limping as he did, took a long time to walk around his spouse. + +She had heard Goton's outcry and her husband's exclamations, and, +suspecting that something extraordinary was taking place, she had left +her broad armchair and waddled along the corridor leading to the +living-room. As this corridor was narrow, her body closed it +hermetically and rubbed against the partitions on each side; so that it +was impossible for anyone to pass through in the opposite direction, +unless by jumping over her head or crawling between her legs. + +It was this enormous mass with which Monsieur Ménard collided when he +attempted to leave the field of battle, all his youthful vigor being +restored by the sight of the pistols. Despite the violence with which +the tutor hurled himself against her, the hostess did not waver; solid +as a rock, and upheld, too, by the walls of the corridor, the bulky dame +contented herself with crying in a shrill falsetto: + +"What's all this? who is it?" + +Ménard, still dazed by the shock, was determined none the less to force +a passage, and he returned toward the person he had struck, hoping that +she had moved to one side or the other; he turned to the right and ran +his nose against a breast which rivalled that of the Hottentot Venus; he +stepped back and turned to the left, and collided with an arm that would +have darkened a window. + +"Mon Dieu! where am I?" exclaimed poor Ménard, who had no idea of what +he had come in contact with, and, still trying to go forward, lowered +his head like a ram; while the hostess cried, louder than ever: + +"Who is it? what's he trying to do? where does he want to go?" + +Her shrieks attracted the attention of the travellers, peace having been +restored in the living-room, since Frédéric and Dubourg had exhibited +their pistols; the four peddlers had become more amiable and had +mumbled some apologies, with which the young men were content, having no +desire for a quarrel with such adversaries. So general attention was now +directed to the corridor. + +"It's my wife's voice," said the innkeeper; "something very funny must +have happened to make her leave her chair!" + +He hurried out into the passage with Goton, who carried a light; Dubourg +and Frédéric followed them, and they discovered the hostess, who was +shrieking louder than ever, because the sound of approaching footsteps +had increased Ménard's terror; he had resolved to pass at any cost, and, +being unable to force a passage on either side, had dropped on his hands +and knees and tried to crawl between the corpulent dame's legs. But she, +determined that the unknown, whom she believed to be a thief, should not +escape, could devise no better way of detaining him than to sit upon +him; so that she was fairly astride Ménard, when light was thrown on the +scene. + +Goton laughed uproariously, and the innkeeper was petrified with +amazement. Frédéric and Dubourg tried to discover the meaning of that +amusing tableau. + +"I can't stand it any longer," gasped Ménard, in a dying voice. + +"I've got him! he's caught!" exclaimed the hostess triumphantly. + +The poor fellow was so effectively caught, that he would have been +stifled if not rescued. But the innkeeper, jealous of his chaste better +half, whom he regarded as the most beautiful creature to be found within +a hundred leagues, instantly stooped and pulled Ménard from under his +wife's skirts, swearing roundly. + +"You villain! sacrebleu! what was you doing under there? ten thousand +eyes!" + +"Oh! he didn't do any harm, I promise you, ducky!" said the hostess +sweetly, to allay her husband's suspicions; while Ménard, restored at +last to the light of day, struggled to his feet, with wig awry and +distorted features. + +"Look ye, my friend," continued the innkeeper, "you didn't go in there, +sacrebleu! to look for violets, did you?" + +Ménard looked from one to another, with a dazed expression; he had not +fully recovered himself. Dubourg succeeded in adjusting matters to +everybody's satisfaction; he divined why Ménard was trying to get away, +so he dispelled the host's suspicions, and reassured his wife concerning +the quarrel in the living-room. Then he ordered Goton to show them to +their bedrooms; which she did after the landlady had concluded to return +to her armchair and thus uncork the passage. + +The best quarters that they could give our three friends consisted of +two very dirty rooms, with the ceiling rafters exposed, which cats and +spiders seemed in the habit of occupying in company with the guests of +the house. In each room there was a wretched bed, partly surrounded by +blue and white curtains resembling in design the common salad-bowl we +see in the country. Both beds were more than five feet high. + +"These are modest quarters," said Frédéric, with a smile; "but in war +time we must take what comes, and it's the same when we travel, eh, my +dear Ménard?" + +"To be sure; a night is soon passed, and these beds look comfortable." + +"We shall need a ladder to climb into them." + +"I see only two beds, monsieur le comte." + +"Oh! don't worry about me," said Dubourg; "I shall not go to bed; I have +letters to write and despatches to send; and I will finish the night in +a chair." + +"But I don't see any chairs, monsieur le baron." + +"Never mind--a chair or a bench. When a man has slept in camp, he's not +hard to please. But the supper is a long while coming; I'll take a look +at the kitchen." + +Dubourg went downstairs, and Frédéric walked to a window which looked on +the fields. The moon was shining on the village, where the most perfect +quiet reigned. The young man mused upon the contrast between life in +Paris and in that hamlet; he reflected that, at that moment, when the +villagers had all retired, the fashionable inhabitants of the city were +at the play or at social festivities, exhibiting their fine clothes and +jewels, and seeking pleasure. But need one leave the city to find +striking contrasts? In the house where people are dancing on the first +floor, on the second there is mourning for the death of a husband or +father; on the third, a young man is making a passionate declaration of +love to his sweetheart; on the fourth, a drunkard is beating his wife; +on the fifth, a gambler is filling his pockets with gold preparatory to +going out; and under the eaves, a poor girl passes the night in toil to +earn bread for her mother. + +While Frédéric abandoned himself to such reflections, Monsieur Ménard +inspected the beds, and was pained to find that what he had deemed at +first sight so soft and comfortable was but a wretched mattress, and a +straw bed itself nearly four feet thick. + +"What an insane idea it is of these villagers to have such enormous +straw beds!" said Ménard, as he examined the sheets, which scratched his +hand. "And I fancied that I was going to sink into a soft feather-bed! +These are terribly poor sheets! And yet, monsieur le baron says that one +is well taken care of here! I shall go to bed in my drawers. God grant +that the supper may make up for the rest!" + +Dubourg had gone down to speak to his postilion, with whom he settled +his account, ordering him to leave the place before dawn; for he had +only three louis left of the twelve Frédéric had lent him, and he was +not anxious to keep a carriage that he could not pay for. That business +adjusted, he prowled about Mademoiselle Goton, to whom he wished to say +a few words. The servant was inclined to look favorably on Dubourg, +because he had borne himself gallantly with the peddlers; for a +courageous act pleases a country wench no less than a _petite-maîtresse_; +but Goton had to help her master in the kitchen, and then serve the four +men in the living-room, who seemed disposed to pass the night drinking, +and to postpone their departure till daybreak. + +They laughingly toyed with the buxom servant, who had much ado to defend +herself from the familiarities of those gentry; but Goton was accustomed +to fighting with such clowns: she boxed the ears of one and kicked +another; she pinched and scratched, and the fellows found her all the +more seductive. + +Being busily occupied thus in all directions, Goton could do no more +than whisper a word of hope to Dubourg, giving him to understand that +the peddlers would be gone at daybreak, her employers asleep, and +herself more at liberty. This promise delighted our friend; he was +talking with Goton at the foot of the staircase, and gave her a +resounding kiss. The girl ran away; but, on looking up, Dubourg saw +Ménard, who had come out, with a candle in his hand, to ascertain +whether they were likely to have any supper, and was decidedly amazed to +see the Palatine of Rava embracing a dishwasher. + +Dubourg, who was never disconcerted, went to meet him, saying: + +"The Emperor Heliogabalus rewarded the cook who invented a new dish; I +embrace the person who informs me that our supper is ready." + +Ménard asked nothing more; he went back to Frédéric with Dubourg, and +Goton laid the table in one of the rooms. + +"Now to the table, and _vive la gaieté_!" said Dubourg, more at ease +since he was certain that he would soon be rid of his carriage. Ménard +responded to the invitation by a gracious smile, and Frédéric finally +decided to leave the moon and turn his mind to earthly affairs. + +"Let us taste the wine first of all," said Dubourg; "is it the best, my +child?" + +"Yes, monsieur; it's the best, for we haven't got any other." + +"It's a little sour," said Ménard, making a wry face. + +"We have some white that's sweeter," said Goton. + +"Go and get us some of the white, my dear; don't spare anything; you +don't have people like us to supper every day." + +"No, indeed," said Ménard; "and we will hope that the rabbit stew is +made with that understanding." + +Dubourg served the stew; but the innkeeper, disturbed by his wife's +adventure in the corridor, had allowed it to burn, and Goton, being +constantly beset by the four peddlers, had put the onions in too late +and had not grated the bacon. Dubourg vainly insisted on declaring that +it had a delicious odor; Ménard said nothing, because he dared not +contradict monsieur le baron; but his face grew darker with every +mouthful. + +"What infernal kind of a stew is this?" said Frédéric, pushing away the +plate that Dubourg persisted in offering him. "A rabbit that has had +nothing to eat but cabbage, raw onions, and rancid lard; and a +detestable burned taste, in addition." + +"It can't be denied," said Ménard, "that it doesn't come up to what +monsieur le baron told us." + +"What do you expect, messieurs?" said Dubourg; "a cook must make +mistakes sometimes. _Errare humanum est_; isn't that so, Monsieur +Ménard?" + +"A cook ought never _errare_, monsieur le baron." + +"It's partly your fault, too. You disturbed his mind; why in the devil +did you go prowling about under his wife's skirts?" + +"I only wanted to get by, monsieur le baron." + +"Only a husband should take that road, Monsieur Ménard." + +"My intentions were pure, monsieur le baron." + +"I never doubted it; but your position was shockingly equivocal." + +"Monsieur le baron, in the temple of Apollo, the pythonesses, seated on +the sacred tripod, received the prophetic exhalations under their +robes." + +"If my wife had seated herself on that tripod, Monsieur Ménard, I should +have asked for a separation." + +Goton put an end to this conversation by bringing an omelet and white +wine. + +"Were the gentlemen satisfied with the stew?" she asked. + +"It was worse than the devil!" replied Frédéric. + +"It was a total failure," said Ménard. + +"My dear child," added Dubourg, "the rabbits in Bretagne don't smell so +strong of cabbage. They have fine rabbits there; but here you have a +very bad way of bringing them up." + +"It would seem that monsieur le baron has passed a good deal of time in +Bretagne?" said Ménard, respectfully putting out his hand to take a +pinch of snuff from the King of Prussia's snuff-box, which Dubourg +offered him. + +"Yes, Monsieur Ménard; and I admit that I still have a weakness for that +province. I have such delightful recollections of it! Ah! how lovely the +sky is in Bretagne! And the fields--how pretty they are! What rich +pastures, what enchanting groves! You can walk leagues and leagues +without once leaving the leafy thickets and flower-grown paths which +make the fields of Bretagne one endless garden." + +"But Poland, monsieur le baron?" + +"Oh! Poland has its good points, of course. Have you ever been there, +Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I have not had that honor, monsieur le baron." + +"As you are not familiar with the country, I will talk with you often +about it." + +"It must be a very interesting country." + +"Extremely interesting, and extremely picturesque; first of all, we have +the Krapach Mountains, beside which Mont Cenis is no more than a little +hillock." + +"Oh, indeed! they are covered with snow, of course?" + +"Almost all the year. I have a château on the summit of one of those +mountains, where only chamois can keep their footing." + +"But how do you reach your château, monsieur le baron?" + +"I have had a winding staircase constructed inside the mountain; it cost +me a hundred thousand francs, but it's a wonderful piece of work, and +people come hundreds of miles to see it. I trust, Monsieur Ménard, that +I shall have the pleasure of showing it to you, and of entertaining you +for some time at my castle of Krapach. I will give you a glass of a +certain tokay which came to me from Tekely's cellar; and you will tell +me what you think of it." + +"Ah! monsieur le baron, you overpower me. But it must be very cold at +your château, is it not?" + +"It used to be very cold, in truth, in the days of my ancestors; but, +thanks to recent scientific discoveries, I have found a way of modifying +the temperature--a very simple method, which answers my purposes +perfectly." + +"What is it, pray, monsieur le baron?" + +"I have built a gasometer under the château; gas, as you know, makes the +earth very warm; indeed, in some places directly over the pipes, I raise +green peas in January.--What is it, my dear count? drink, drink, or you +will choke!" + +Frédéric had, in fact, much difficulty in listening to this discourse, +which Dubourg delivered with imperturbable gravity, while Ménard +listened with childlike confidence to every word uttered by the baron. + +At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by a violent shock, +followed by an ominous cracking. + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Ménard; "what can that be? This house doesn't seem +to be very solidly built." + +"Can it be that they are firing cannon to celebrate our arrival in the +village?" Dubourg asked Goton, who replied, with a laugh: + +"Oh! no, monsieur; it ain't anything; it's only madame going to bed, +that's all." + +This explanation made the young men laugh; but Ménard was not satisfied +until he was assured that the hostess slept on the same floor; he would +not have consented to pass the night on the floor below a woman who +shook the house whenever she moved; it was quite enough to remain under +the same roof with her. + +The white wine, being a little more palatable than the red, enabled them +to eat an omelet with parsley, which Dubourg tried in vain to make them +think was tarragon. For dessert there was nothing to offer the +travellers except some Géromé cheese, which could have walked to the +table unassisted at need, and the odor of which drove Frédéric from his +seat. He went to bed in the other room, bidding the servant wake him +early in the morning, as he had no desire to prolong his stay at the +inn. Monsieur Ménard deemed it his duty to remain with the baron, who +plied him with bumper after bumper and went into raptures over the taste +of the cheese, which, he said, reminded him of what he had eaten in +Switzerland, thereby putting an end to the ex-tutor's desire to lunch or +sup in a chalet. + +"Yes, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "if you should go to Gruyère, a +small Swiss village noted for its cheeses, which are its only source of +wealth, you would smell a league away the chalets in which they are +made. When you have passed a night in one of them, you smell the cheese +for a week, an excellent thing for the lungs. But you must feel the need +of rest, Monsieur Ménard; pray go to bed. I propose to pass the night +writing." + +"Monsieur le baron, I shall never dare to take the liberty--before +you----" + +"Why not, pray? Diogenes went to bed in his tub, before Alexander; and +Crates did not hesitate to show his rump to his fellow citizens." + +"It is you who order me to do it, monsieur le baron." + +"I don't order you to show me your rump, Monsieur Ménard; but I urge you +to go to bed as if I weren't here." + +Fatigue and the white wine combined to make sleep essential to Ménard, +so he did not wait to be urged again; he went behind the flowered +curtains, and prepared to retire. Meanwhile, Dubourg, seated at a table +in a corner of the room, pretended to look over papers and take notes, +but he was really waiting impatiently for the tutor to fall asleep, in +order to give the postilion of the berlin the signal to go; for he was +afraid that Ménard would wake early, and it would be very embarrassing +if the carriage were not then at a safe distance from the village. For +this reason, he was anxious to hasten the postilion's departure. + +The gate was not closed; Goton alone would see what took place; Dubourg +knew how to assure her discretion. + +It was a quarter of an hour since Ménard had disappeared behind the +curtains. Dubourg thought that he must be asleep, and was about to go +downstairs, when he heard a suppressed groan from the direction of the +bed. + +"Aren't you feeling well, Monsieur Ménard?" he asked, partly opening the +curtains. + +What was his surprise to find poor Ménard, in shirt and drawers and a +cotton nightcap, standing beside the bed, and trying in vain to reach +the top with the aid of a chair which was too low to bring his short +legs on a level with the mattress. + +"What, Monsieur Ménard! not in bed yet?" + +"No, monsieur le baron; I have been trying in vain for ten minutes to +climb up into my bed. Isn't it an outrage? I call it making fools of +their guests to give them beds that reach the ceiling! Everybody isn't +six feet tall; and unless one's a giant----" + +"Come, come, don't get excited, Monsieur Ménard; why didn't you call me +to help you?" + +"Oh! monsieur le baron, I shouldn't have presumed to take the liberty." + +"You were wrong, for you can't pass the whole night trying to climb into +bed." + +Without awaiting a reply, Dubourg bade Ménard stand on the chair; then, +placing his hands upon a certain rotund portion of the professor's +anatomy, he put forth all his strength to lift him into the bed. + +"_Sic itur ad astra!_" he said. + +"_Labor improbus omnia vincit_" rejoined Ménard, trying to seize his +bolster. + +"Ouf!" exclaimed Dubourg. + +"I am there, monsieur le baron!" cried Ménard, delighted to be safely in +bed at last. + +"That's very lucky! Good-night!" + +"A thousand thanks, monsieur le baron!" + +When he left the bed, Dubourg was careful to remove the chair that stood +beside it, thus making it certain that Ménard would not rise until he, +Dubourg, chose. This precaution might result in placing the tutor in an +unfortunate position; whether it did so, the sequel will show. + +Ménard had not been in bed five minutes before he was snoring +vociferously. + +"Good! I am safe now," thought Dubourg; and, taking his light, he went +down noiselessly into the innyard. As he passed the living-room, he +glanced in: two of the peddlers were asleep on the table, the others +were still drinking; but everything indicated that they would soon +follow their companions' example. + +Dubourg found his postilion, and, putting a five-franc piece in his +hand, ordered him to start at once. In a very few minutes, the horses +were harnessed, and the noble palatine's berlin was out of the village. + +"But how are you going to manage about going away to-morrow?" queried +Goton, who had just joined Dubourg in the yard. + +"Oh! we have another carriage, an excellent post chaise, which is being +repaired for us; as to what I have just done, I am going to tell you +what you must say; do you understand, Goton?" + +As he spoke, he slipped two five-franc pieces into the girl's pocket; it +was a larger sum than the poor drudge often earned in six months at that +wretched inn, and the sight of the two great coins made her as docile as +a lamb. + +"Oh! that's enough," she said, as Dubourg put his arms about her robust +figure; "that's enough! I'll say whatever you want me to; anyway, that +carriage was yours, and you could do what you please with it. _Jarni!_ +you tickle me! don't pinch so hard! Oh! what a man!" + +"Where is your room, Goton?" + +"My room? I haven't got any room; I sleep in the little barn over there, +with the cow. _Dame!_ I don't have anything but an old straw bed on the +ground, because the missus says there's no use of wearing out sheets. +But it ain't cold there, anyway; Bebelle keeps me warm." + +"Who's Bebelle?" + +"Why, she's our cow. Oh! she's so soft and warm! But how he pinches! +Dieu! what a pincher you are!" + +"Come to your room; we can talk better there; with you, Goton, the barn +becomes a boudoir, and straw, feathers." + +"What's a boudoir?" + +"Come, and I'll tell you." + +"And what about the peddlers?" + +"They don't need you any more; haven't they paid their bills?" + +"Yes. Anyway, master knows 'em." + +"In that case, there's no need of your sitting up any longer." + +"But suppose they should want anything?" + +"Two of them are sound asleep already, and the two others will very soon +be in the same condition. Come, I tell you; it's nonsense to sit up till +daylight for them. You need sleep, Goton." + +The servant was half vanquished. She ceased to resist Dubourg's +arguments, and allowed him to lead her to the cow-barn, which they both +entered, closing the door behind them. The door had no other fastening +than a hook on the outside; but the girl slept there without fear, as +there were no robbers thereabout. + +But one of the peddlers was not asleep; he, too, was engrossed by +thoughts of Goton, and he was waiting for his companions to lose +themselves in slumber before attempting to join the seductive servant. + +This man had noticed that one of the strangers was prowling about Goton, +and it had irritated him; but he had not dared to watch him too closely, +being still held in respect by the recollection of the pistols. + +When all three of his comrades had their heads on the table, he rose +softly and went out to look for Goton, knowing the location of her +bedroom. He took no light, in order not to betray his whereabouts, and +crept stealthily toward the cow-barn. + +He was still some yards away, when he heard two voices saying some very +pretty things to each other; he crept nearer, and grasped the thread of +the conversation distinctly enough; for Dubourg and Goton, thinking +that their only neighbors were animals, were talking together without +restraint. + +The peddler was furious, but how could he be revenged? He had no desire +to pick a quarrel with Dubourg; it would be a waste of time to call the +landlord, for that worthy man and his spouse always locked themselves in +their room to avoid being disturbed; besides, who would dare to assume +the task of getting the hostess out of bed? and, after all, what did it +matter to them that a guest was with their servant? they probably did +not consider themselves responsible for Goton's virtue. + +The peddler determined to play some trick on the amorous couple. He +could think of nothing better than to hook the door on the outside, +which he did very softly, then stole away, delighted with his exploit, +and saying to himself: + +"They won't get out of that place till someone lets 'em out; for the +door's a stout one, and I defy 'em to break it down." + +He joined his companions; day broke ere long, and their business +required the peddlers to leave the inn. They were soon ready, and, as +they shouldered their packs, they listened to their confrère's story of +the trick he had played on the stranger. They all applauded him, being +overjoyed to be revenged on a man who had refused to be frightened by +their cudgels; and they went their way, laughing at the thought of the +scene that would take place at the inn in the morning. + +During these occurrences, Ménard did not continue in the same tranquil +state in which we left him. The white wine, with which monsieur le baron +had filled his glass so often, produced its due effect. Ménard woke; he +turned over and put out his hand to find the chair, which he expected to +use as a means of descending from his bed; for in such wretched inns +there is never a night table. But to no purpose did he stretch out his +arm and feel about in all directions. He could find no chair! In that +case, how was he to climb down from that bed, which reached to the roof? +yet he felt sure that it was becoming absolutely necessary. He listened, +but could hear nothing; he put aside the curtains--the most profound +darkness reigned in the room. Monsieur le baron must have gone to sleep +in his chair, as he had planned to do; but, in any event, how could he +presume to ask the Palatine of Rava to give him the---- No, he could +never do that! On the other hand, to jump out of bed was to run the risk +of hurting himself, or at least of not being able to get back. It was +most embarrassing, and poor Ménard, sitting up in bed, could not decide +what course to pursue. + +Necessity knows no law, says an old proverb; besides, monsieur le baron +was so kind and good-natured and obliging! This thought emboldened +Ménard; he coughed, gently at first, then a little louder; and finally +he ventured to call, in a low tone: + +"Monsieur le baron--if you are not asleep, may I presume to ask you to +assist me? I am sadly embarrassed, monsieur le baron." + +But at that moment Baron Dubourg was with Goton, busily engaged in +teaching her what a boudoir is, and that a garret, a thicket, a loft, a +cave, a kitchen, a cellar, or a barn may deserve that name when one is +in either of those places with one's love. And Goton understood the +lesson perfectly, because she was quick-witted, and because Dubourg, who +had had some experience, was an excellent teacher. + +"Monsieur le baron must sleep very soundly," thought Ménard. "What a +cursed place this is! this infernal bed, where I can't turn over +without pricking my legs--I believe the mattress is stuffed with oat +straw! Well, no matter what happens, I must try to slide down." + +He had put one of his short legs over the edge of the bed, when he heard +a tremendous uproar in the room; a chair was overturned, a jug that +stood on it fell to the floor and broke, and a number of dark objects +scuttled along the wall and went out through the door. Ménard was stiff +with terror. + +"Monsieur le baron, monsieur le baron!" he called, in a stifled voice; +"is that you?" + +There was no reply. The poor man had not the courage to leave the bed, +but buried his head under the clothes; his fright causing him to lose +all power of restraint, it soon became unnecessary for him to get out, +and he fell asleep without being further disturbed; for it was neither +thieves nor hobgoblins who had caused the tumult in his chamber, but +simply two cats, which, finding the door open, had paid a visit to their +usual place of abode. While fighting over a bit of rabbit, which +monsieur le baron had tossed under the table while declaring that it was +delicious, the beasts had overturned a chair on which was a jug of +water, and the noise had so terrified them that they fled incontinently, +abandoning the subject of controversy. + +Meanwhile, the day had broken. The innkeeper quitted his chaste partner, +who rose at six but was not dressed until nine. Frédéric woke, and so +did Ménard, the latter being very uncomfortable for reasons which you +can guess. Dubourg, having no further instruction to give Goton, desired +to return to his room, and Goton found it harder than usual to leave her +pallet, because Dubourg's lessons had fatigued her. But the pretended +baron tried in vain to leave the shed. For five minutes he pushed and +shook the door, which did not yield. + +"Goton--Goton, did you lock the door?" he asked. + +"Naw! it don't lock," replied the girl, rubbing her eyes. + +"But I can't open it." + +"Push hard." + +"I am pushing as hard as I can, but it won't open." + +"Bah! you city folks haven't got any strength!" said the servant; and +she struck the door a violent blow with her fist, but without effect. + +"_Jarni!_ someone must have hooked it outside." + +"Who in the devil can have played us such a trick?" + +"_Pardi!_ it must have been one of the peddlers--because they had their +eyes on me, don't you see? and perhaps they saw that you was in here." + +"I haven't any desire to pass my day in this shed." + +"I'll milk the cow for you." + +"Much obliged." + +"And you can tell me something." + +"I don't know anything more. This smell of cow and filth goes to my +head." + +"Oh! you said just now that this shed was a little--what d'you call +it?--a pretty little _bouloir_, with me." + +"Oh! there's a great difference between _just now_ and _now_. A place +ceases to be agreeable, Goton, when you are compelled to stay in it. But +it's broad daylight; if that window wasn't so small, we could get out +through it." + +"Oh! you can't do that." + +"Ah! I have an idea! We must make the best of it. Bring that stone here, +Goton; stand on it with me, so that our heads will be near the window, +and then shout as I do." + +"What will I shout?" + +"What I do." + +Dubourg put his face to the round hole over the door, and began to cry +at the top of his voice: + +"Help! thieves! stop the carriage! thieves!" + +"Where's the thieves?" whispered Goton. + +"Will you do what I tell you to?" repeated Dubourg. + +"All right; I'll yell, if it amuses you," rejoined the servant. And her +strong voice, reinforcing Dubourg's, soon aroused the whole household +and a good part of the village. + +The innkeeper ran to the spot as fast as his left leg allowed, it being +two inches shorter than the other. Frédéric came out of his room; Ménard +sat up in bed, and succeeded, with his pupil's aid, in reaching the +floor. He dressed in haste, and went downstairs close on the heels of +Frédéric, who had recognized Dubourg's voice and was more curious than +alarmed, suspecting some new invention on the baron's part. They all +went out into the yard, where they were joined by the neighbors and a +number of laborers on their way to work, who had been attracted by +Dubourg's reiterated shouts of: + +"Thieves! stop the carriage!" + +They looked about, but saw no carriage; whereupon Goton roared: + +"Monsieur le baron's carriage has run off!" + +The shed door was opened at last, and Dubourg rushed out like a madman, +raving and swearing, heedless of the fact that his trousers were stained +with filth. + +"What's the matter, monsieur le baron?" queried Ménard, in dismay. + +"The matter? my berlin--that scoundrel of a postilion! he has run away +and taken it with him--with fifty thousand francs in gold that I had in +one of the pockets!" + +"Oh! mon Dieu!" + +"My father's berlin! the equipage of the Potoskis! It isn't the money +that I regret--but a berlin in which the Princess of Hungary---- Ah! my +friends, scour the country in all directions--follow every road--a +hundred louis to the man who brings it back!" + +"A hundred louis to the man who brings back the carriage!" said Goton. + +"They will be very smart if they overtake it," said Dubourg, in an +undertone; "it must be near to Paris now." + +"But how did you come to be locked into the shed with Goton?" inquired +the innkeeper. + +"I should think you might guess that. I heard a noise in the yard during +the night; I came downstairs softly and found my rascal harnessing the +horses, intending to make his escape while we were asleep. Unluckily, I +had no weapons, and the postilion is a much stronger man than I am. I +attempted to go to call you, but the villain seized me, and, despite my +resistance, forced me into the barn, where this girl was sleeping, and +locked us in there. We began at once to shout for help; but you sleep +like dead men." + +"Yes, yes, that's how it was!" said Goton, understanding now why Dubourg +had told her to shout _thieves_. + +"You must go to monsieur le maire," said Ménard; "you must have the +police ordered out.--There's a mayor here, of course?" + +"Yes, monsieur; the wine merchant; but he'll have to send to the next +village for the police, and that will take two hours." + +"Don't be disturbed, my dear Ménard," said Frédéric, with a smile, "we +have a comfortable post chaise to take the place of monsieur le baron's +berlin." + +"But fifty thousand francs in gold, monsieur le comte!" + +"Oh! it isn't the loss of the money that distresses me," said Dubourg; +"my fortune can stand that loss. Luckily, I still have fifteen thousand +francs in my wallet, to pay my expenses for some little time; but I +especially regret my wardrobe; there was a great trunk under the +carriage, full of clothes and linen." + +"Certainly," observed Frédéric, with a mischievous glance at Dubourg and +Goton, "you need a change of clothing now; you must have fallen while +you were in the barn." + +Dubourg looked at him with an expression that signified: "I don't know +why you need have called attention to that!" as he replied: + +"I certainly didn't go in like a lamb; ask Goton how the rascal handled +me!" + +"Oh! yes," said the servant, "he threw you down more'n four times." + +"At all events, my friend, my wardrobe is at your service," said +Frédéric. + +"And mine too, monsieur le baron," added Ménard, bowing to Dubourg; and +he went back to his room to finish dressing, the baron having promised +to go and lodge a complaint with the mayor. + +Frédéric's postilion came at last to inform the travellers that the +chaise was ready. Ménard came down from his room, thanking heaven that +they were to leave that inn, which had been so disastrous to them. Goton +came down behind him, and whispered to Dubourg: + +"One of your friends ain't very well brought up; a man of his age do +such things as that! If my little brother did it, he'd get a licking." + +In two words, Dubourg learned what had happened; he could not help +laughing at the catastrophe, for which he was responsible; while Ménard +glared angrily at the servant, who put out her tongue at him, shrugged +her shoulders, and followed him about, saying in an undertone: + +"For shame! what a dirty trick! a man fifty years old! who ain't learned +to be clean!" + +The carriage awaited the travellers, and they took their seats with much +satisfaction: Dubourg, overjoyed to be rid of his berlin; Ménard, +impatient to leave Goton and the inn, for which he had conceived an +intense aversion; and Frédéric, because he was much more comfortable in +the roomy, well-hung post chaise than in monsieur le baron's wretched +berlin. + +Ménard sighed once or twice for the seat that the Princess of Hungary +had occupied; but he still had to console him the King of Prussia's +snuff-box, and the prospect of drinking tokay from Tekely's cellar. + + + + +VI + +THE LITTLE WOOD + + +Our travellers reached the next village without mishap, and stopped +there to breakfast. Ménard admired the tranquillity with which their +noble companion bore the twofold loss of his carriage and his fifty +thousand francs. + +"I am a philosopher, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "and I care little +for money; indeed, I think that I should prefer mediocrity to a too +exalted station: _Magna servitus est magna fortuna_." + +"You are no ordinary man, my dear Dubourg," said Frédéric; "there are so +many people whose philosophy does not outlast their prosperity, like +the coward who boasts of his courage when the danger has passed." + +"I certainly am not ambitious," rejoined Ménard; "and I know how to bow +to circumstances; but I consider that it requires great strength of mind +to give up without regret a good table and a good bed; and when I say a +good bed, I don't mean a high one." + +Dubourg observed that when they had breakfasted it was Monsieur Ménard +who paid the bill. + +"Don't you carry the purse?" he asked Frédéric, in an undertone. + +"No; my father gave the funds to Ménard." + +"The devil! that's a nuisance. What will he think, when he sees that I +never pay?" + +"Why, after your saying that you had been robbed, did you add that you +still had fifteen thousand francs in your pocket?" + +"Oh! why, why! because I wanted to play the great man, and not let your +companion imagine that you would pay my expenses." + +"I don't dare to ask Ménard for the money; I should be afraid of hurting +his feelings." + +"Never fear; I'll undertake to make him turn it over of his own motion." + +"How?" + +"You will see." + +"When you hold the purse-strings, don't play the swell too much; +remember that we shall not have any more for a long while." + +"Can it be that you believe that I am still a rattle-head and gambler, +as I was in Paris? No, my dear Frédéric, I am too well pleased to be +travelling with you, to make a fool of myself; I tell you again, I mean +to be a second Mentor." + +"Yes; your performance in the cow-barn is a very promising beginning." + +"Oh! but I had to invent some lie to account for the berlin." + +"And that made it necessary to lock yourself in there with Mademoiselle +Goton! you ne'er-do-well!" + +"Bah! don't make yourself out such a Cato! If Mademoiselle Goton had had +melancholy eyes and a sentimental cast of countenance, you would have +gone with her to pasture the cows." + +"Well, at all events, I beg you not to do so much gasconading with poor +Ménard, who believes every word; for, to remove any possible suspicion +from his mind, I have taken pains to tell him that I know your family +intimately, and that you are highly esteemed in Paris." + +"You have done very well. I only tell him as much as I think necessary +to carry out my part; you don't seem to remember that I call myself a +Polish nobleman." + +"That's the reason, I suppose, that you talk about nothing but +Bretagne!" + +The travellers resumed their journey. Before reaching the town where +they proposed to pass the night, they had to ride through a dense +forest; and Dubourg, who had his scheme all prepared, began operations +by giving a serious turn to the conversation, for he was well aware that +one's frame of mind adds to or takes from the size of objects, and that +in real life, as on the stage, one must know how to prepare and lead up +to situations, in order that they may produce the greatest effect. + +"I know nothing more delightful than travelling," said Dubourg; "why is +it that one's pleasure must always be lessened by the thought that some +unfortunate accident may upset all one's plans?" + +"It is so with all the pleasures of life," rejoined Frédéric; "can you +name one upon which we can rely for the morrow? It is a great joy to be +loved by the woman you adore; but when you feel sure that you are not +indifferent to her, when you rely on her heart and her oaths, some young +Adonis appears, who fascinates her; some handsome soldier, who turns her +head; some scintillating wit, who charms her mind--and that woman, +faithful until then, betrays you at the very moment that you feel most +confident of her love. Alas! the happiness of our whole future often +depends only upon some trivial circumstance, and crumbles and falls like +a house built of cards." + +"Monsieur de Montreville talks very wisely," said Ménard; "we are often +sadly disappointed in our hopes; how many times have I dined at a famous +restaurant, when the soup was a failure!" + +"A philosopher endures such disasters, in fortune, in love, or in +pleasure," said Dubourg; "but there are things against which even +philosophy cannot prevail; as, for instance, being attacked and murdered +by brigands on the highroad." + +These words made Ménard shudder; his face lengthened, his expression +became anxious, and he turned to Dubourg, whose features wore a gloomy +look in which there was nothing reassuring. + +"Such affairs are, in truth, very unpleasant for travellers. They say, +monsieur le baron, that travelling is very dangerous in Italy. You have +travelled so much, that you can probably tell us." + +"Unquestionably there are brigands in Italy, Monsieur Ménard. The +peculiarity of that country is that the roads are most dangerous at +noon, for no one but the brigands dares to face the hot sun at that +time of day. However, if there are highway robbers in the Apennines and +in Germany and England, unfortunately there's no lack of them in France. +It's quite as dangerous now to travel in France." + +"What! in France, monsieur le baron? I thought that the roads were +perfectly safe." + +"Then you don't read the papers, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"Very rarely." + +"If you did, you would see that the forests of Sénart, Bondy, +Fontainebleau, and even Villers-Cotterets, all have their bands of +robbers." + +"Mon Dieu!" + +"Unfortunately, the villains are becoming more savage day by day. They +used to content themselves with robbing you, but now they beat you with +clubs, and you're lucky if you leave their hands alive." + +"The deuce! the deuce! if I had known this!" muttered Ménard, looking +about him uneasily. They were just entering the wood. + +"Oh! don't be alarmed, Monsieur Ménard," continued Dubourg; "ordinarily, +the robbers confine their attentions to the one who has the money; he +has to pay for the others: they tie him to a tree and strip him as bare +as a worm, to make sure that he has nothing hidden in his clothing." + +"That does not quiet my apprehensions at all, monsieur le baron; for, as +it happens, I have charge of the money for our journey." + +"Oh! if I had known that, I wouldn't have told you. I thought that +Frédéric---- But in that case you must sell your life dearly. You are +armed, of course?" + +"I never use weapons, monsieur le baron." + +"Then you must learn to use them; at this moment, we are driving through +a forest where three friends of mine were killed." + +"What's that! in this wood? It does seem very dense." + +And Ménard glanced fearfully to right and left. It was beginning to grow +dark, and that fact added to his terror. + +"Drive at full speed, postilion!" he cried, in a trembling voice. + +But the postilion, who had received his instructions from Dubourg, did +not quicken his pace. Frédéric said nothing, but seemed lost in thought, +and Dubourg took his pistols from his pocket and examined them +carefully, glancing into the woods from time to time. + +"Parbleu! Monsieur Ménard," he said, taking from his pocket a shabby +green wallet, in which he had placed his last restaurant bill to make it +appear well filled, "this contains my whole fortune for the moment. The +fifteen thousand francs which I now have for my travelling expenses are +in this wallet; as you have been obliging enough to take charge of +Frédéric's funds, I am sure that you will consent to be my cashier, too; +there is no need of having two of us to pay our hotel bills; it's much +better that you should do it all." + +As he spoke, he handed Ménard the wallet; that worthy looked at it, +considering what it was best to do; although flattered by that mark of +confidence, he was not tempted to accept it. + +At that moment, they heard a shrill whistle in the woods. + +"Ah! what does that mean?" exclaimed Dubourg, glancing about with a +terrified expression. + +"Perhaps we are going to be attacked, monsieur le baron." + +"Faith! I am afraid of it." + +"And Monsieur Frédéric is asleep; pray wake him." + +Frédéric, pretending to be fast asleep, was an amused listener. + +"There's no need of that.--Take these, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg, +handing the tutor his wallet and his pistols; "they are loaded." + +"Keep them, keep them, in heaven's name, monsieur le baron. I can't take +this wallet. On the contrary, if you were willing, you would be much +better able than I to take care of these." + +And poor Ménard produced in one hand his wallet, and in the other a +purse filled with gold, and fixed his eyes upon Dubourg with a suppliant +expression. + +"Really," said the latter, "I don't know if I ought to undertake---- +Perhaps Frédéric will be offended if----" + +"Oh! no, no, monsieur le baron; I am sure that he will approve of my +action." + +"Here are four men with rifles coming toward us," said the postilion. + +"Great God! we are lost!" cried Ménard. + +"Give them to me, quickly," said Dubourg, taking the wallet and the +purse; "I see that this is a matter for me to attend to." + +Ménard hid under the seat; the postilion shouted and swore, and lashed +his horses; Dubourg leaned out of the chaise and fired both his pistols +in the air; Frédéric pretended to wake up; the carriage flew like the +wind, and in five minutes they were out of the wood. + +"We are safe!" said Dubourg, assisting Ménard to rise. + +"Really, monsieur le baron?" + +"We are out of the woods; there's no more danger. We had a narrow +escape, eh, Frédéric?" + +"And the robbers, monsieur le baron?" + +"I killed two of them." + +"I saw the other two run away," said Frédéric. + +"Ah! monsieur le baron, how lucky we were to have you with us!" + +They arrived in due time at their destination. Dubourg was delighted to +be the treasurer of the party, and he inaugurated his functions by +giving the postilion a gold piece for whistling in the forest. + + + + +VII + +DUBOURG CONTINUES TO PLAY THE GREAT MAN.--HIS METHOD OF MANAGING THE +TREASURY + + +Dubourg had never had in his possession so large a sum of money as that +which Ménard had intrusted to him. Young men, as a general rule, are not +in the habit of hoarding money, and Dubourg, who was devoted to cards +and pleasure and good cheer, thinking only of the present, oblivious of +the past, and never worrying about the future, had not the faintest idea +of economy. + +When he was a clerk in a government office, his salary was always so +largely hypothecated that he never received more than a third of it, and +that third never lasted more than three days, during which period, to be +sure, Dubourg lived like the chief of a bureau. + +In the banking-house, being compelled to work hard, he took his revenge +by ordering dainty breakfasts brought to the office; and his accounts at +cafés and restaurants consumed a large part of the amount the cashier +paid him at the month's end. + +At the notary's, he had contracted, with the other young men in the +office, the deplorable habit of playing écarté. It was worse than ever +there: the month's pay vanished in one evening, and he was in luck when +he did not pledge the next month's as well. + +In the employ of the solicitor, being constantly abroad with the lady +whom his employer intrusted to him, he lost the habit of working; he +passed his time in dissipation, and strove to follow the fashions and +rival the young dandies of the capital. During that period, his tailor, +his bootmaker, and his stableman had divided his income. + +When his kind old aunt sent him money, it was never a large amount. The +largest was the five hundred francs which he had extorted by the fable +of his marriage and his triplets; we have seen what use he made of that. + +Eight thousand francs--for the amount was almost untouched--was, in +Dubourg's eyes, a fortune of which he would never see the end. To be +sure, it did not belong to him, strictly speaking; but he could direct +the spending of it; he could do exactly as he pleased, for he was +certain of not being called upon for an accounting. He did not propose +to appropriate a single sou, but he did propose to put it to such use as +would do honor to him to whom it belonged, and he was not sorry to be +able to enjoy it with him. + +He ordered a delicious supper, which was served in their apartments, the +finest in the house. + +When he saw all the dishes with which the table was laden, Frédéric +exclaimed: + +"Why, are you mad, Dubourg?"--for he continued to call him by that name +before Ménard, who had become accustomed to it--"here is supper enough +for ten!" + +"I have an excellent appetite, my dear Frédéric, and am disposed to do +full honor to it; I'll wager that Monsieur Ménard will second me." + +"With the very greatest pleasure, monsieur le baron; that affair in the +woods made a hole in my stomach." + +"But you surely have condemned all the other guests of the house to a +bread and water diet." + +"Faith! they may eat what they can find; it seems to me natural that we +should make up to ourselves for the miserable meal we had last night at +that horrible inn." + +"I quite agree with monsieur le baron; we are sadly in need of restoring +our strength." + +"But----" + +"What the devil! do you want to travel like wolves? and eat at table +d'hôte like paltry pedestrians? A man should support his rank, my +friend, and I judge, from the feeling, that my stomach isn't inclined to +backslide." + +"Monsieur le baron talks very judiciously; you must support your rank," +said Ménard, accepting a chicken wing which Dubourg offered him; "that +is your father's wish, you know, Monsieur Frédéric." + +"Yes, my friend," said Dubourg, filling his glass with the oldest wine +that the cellar of the inn contained; "I think you should certainly +yield to your father's wish; and, on my word, all things considered, I +don't see why I should retain my incognito any longer. We're a long way +from Paris. I am done with it; I resume my titles, and I propose to be +treated with the honors that are due me." + +"Oh! Dubourg, Dubourg! you will get us into some scrape," said Frédéric, +in an undertone; but his friend paid no heed; he was excited by the +wine, and he had never felt in such high spirits. He drank glass after +glass, while Ménard, with a glutton's delight, helped himself to +mushroom pie, the odor of which tickled his olfactory nerve. + +"What do you think of my plan, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"That has always been my wish, as you know, monsieur le baron." + +"It is settled; I am baron, palatine, et cetera; and we will make it +manifest wherever we go." + +"Certainly, monsieur le baron; the nobility of your manners will always +cause you to be recognized for what you are." + +"Bravo, Monsieur Ménard! spoken like a true boon companion! But as to +Frédéric, he is unworthy to sit at our table. A little more of this +hare, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"With pleasure, monsieur le baron." + +"We must be philosophical--when we can't help it; but true philosophy +consists in making the most of life, in enjoying one's self whenever the +opportunity offers. _Dulce est desipere in loco_, says Horace. Eh, +Monsieur Ménard?" + +"Yes, monsieur le baron; but Juvenal advises infrequent indulgence in +pleasures: _Voluptatis commendat rarior usus_." + +"Juvenal probably had a weak stomach." + +"That is very possible, monsieur le baron." + +"Another glass, Monsieur Ménard; to the memory of Anacreon, Epicurus, +Horace, and all good livers!" + +"We forget Lucullus, monsieur le baron." + +"True; another bumper, to Lucullus!" + +By dint of drinking to the memory of the ancients, the two were +beginning to lose all memory of the present. + +"Faith!" cried Dubourg, rising from the table; "I defy all the palatines +of Rava, Cracow, and Krapach to eat a better supper!" + +"Take care what you are saying, you infernal babbler!" muttered +Frédéric. + +"Never you fear," retorted Dubourg, speaking louder than ever; "I'll +answer for everything, I tell you; and Papa Ménard is a man whom I +esteem and love, and whose eyes I will close with pheasants or +truffles." + +Luckily, Ménard was in such a condition that he could not distinguish +clearly what was being said. Bewildered by the frequent libations in +which he had indulged with his noble companion, he left the table to go +to his room. He felt his way along the walls till he reached his bed, +which he had ordered to be made very low. He retired, well pleased with +the feast he had enjoyed and with the baron's manner of doing the honors +of the table; he considered that he had done exceedingly well to intrust +the financial arrangements to him, for he himself would not have dared +to order so delicious a repast; and he foresaw that the baron, who +seemed to be both a gourmand and an epicure, would continue to feed them +on the fat of the land, as he had abandoned his incognito. In a word, +Ménard was delighted with their travelling companion, and he fell asleep +musing upon the pleasures and the honor which he should enjoy on that +journey. + +On the following day, Frédéric attempted to talk prudence to Dubourg, +who instantly retorted: + +"Do you want to take the funds? Do so, give such orders as you please; +it's your right. But, absorbed as you always are in melancholy +reflections, you won't feed us decently; and when you are travelling +for pleasure, it seems to me that food is a most essential thing to look +out for." + +"But be reasonable, at least." + +"Oh! you are greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for having two men with +you to keep you amused--one by his wit, the other by the way he puts +himself outside of a partridge." + +"But what's the meaning of this idea of playing the great man before +everybody?" + +"Because we shall have more sport. Besides, you are a count; I must be a +baron at least, in order to travel on equal terms with you." + +"But the money will go much faster." + +"Bah! we shan't see the end of it for a long while yet; and then, you +have a father, and I an aunt." + +"I advise you to rely on them!" + +"At all events, you see that your mentor approves of my method." + +"Parbleu! you make him tipsy, and he doesn't know what he's saying." + +"Don't worry; I'll answer for everything." + +When they resumed their journey, the horses, which belonged to Frédéric, +went like the wind. Ménard was slightly dazed by the rapid motion, but +he said to himself: "These nobles always travel at full speed;" and +clung to the door to keep from falling. + +At every inn, they were treated with the greatest respect, as men of +high rank. Everywhere they had the best rooms, the daintiest dishes, the +oldest wines. And Ménard was delighted, enchanted, because he believed +that monsieur le baron had put his fifteen thousand francs with the sum +he had handed him, and because he judged him to be too large-hearted +and generous to give a thought to the difference between their +contributions. + +In due time, our travellers reached Lyon, having paused on the way only +to admire an occasional view and to give their horses time to breathe. +But they proposed to pass several days in that city. Young Montreville +was very glad of an opportunity to see it and its suburbs, and, above +all, to visit the shores of the Rhône; and his two companions consented, +with pleasure, to tarry some time in a city where they could live as +well as in Paris. + +They alighted at one of the best hotels. The noise made by Dubourg, the +distinguished aspect of Frédéric, and the pains that Ménard took to +repeat again and again: "You have the honor of entertaining Monsieur le +Baron Potoski, Palatine of Rava, and the young Comte de Montreville," +attracted universal attention and consideration to the young men, who +seemed disposed to spend money freely, which is the best of +recommendations at a hotel. + +They were quartered in a superb suite on the first floor. Their meals +were served in their rooms, and everything had to be of the best. +Dubourg was the one who gave all the orders; Frédéric interfered with +none of the details, beyond saying to his friend: + +"Be careful what you do." + +Whereupon Dubourg would reply: "Never fear," with such confidence that +the young count finally allowed him to do as he pleased, without +remonstrance. + +As for Ménard, he was more enthusiastic than ever about the baron, to +whom he was indebted for such an agreeable life. Frédéric often went out +alone to walk along the bank of the Rhône; fascinated by the beautiful +landscape he discovered, he sometimes did not return to the hotel until +night or the following day. Dubourg, like those liars who end by +believing in their own false-hoods, had so identified himself with the +part he was playing, that he would have struck anyone who expressed a +doubt as to his rank; he amused himself, during his friend's absences, +by displaying his magnificence in the city. Leaning nonchalantly on +Ménard's arm, who, with his hat on the back of his head, the better to +see and be seen, carried himself very straight, walked with much +precision, and strove to assume an air that was both dignified and +affable, when he went out with monsieur le baron--Dubourg walked all +over the city, with a huge three-cornered hat, adorned with a black +plume and a steel buckle, which he wore after the style of one of +Molière's marquises. To be sure, the rest of his costume hardly +corresponded with his hat; but it was no longer fashionable to wear +embroidered coats for walking, and Dubourg had confined himself to +having silver tassels attached to his military boots, considering that +there was a something Polish about them. He left his coat open, because +that gave him a more careless air, and he made frequent use of a huge +eyeglass hanging from his neck by a pink ribbon. + +His extraordinary garb attracted every eye. Some took him for an +Englishman, some for a Russian or a Prussian; but if some curious +individual stopped and looked after him with a smile on his face, +Dubourg would flash a glance at him that put an end to any inclination +to laugh at his expense, and conveyed the impression that the stranger, +whoever he might be, was not of a disposition to endure being laughed +at. + +But it was necessary to be in the neighborhood of our two friends only a +very short time to ascertain the identity of the gentleman in the plumed +hat, who sauntered along so gracefully with his glass at his eye; for +Monsieur Ménard talked very loud, especially when he saw that someone +was noticing them, and never failed to emphasize the "Baron Potoski," or +"Monsieur le Palatine," when he addressed his companion; sometimes, +indeed, he went so far as to call him "Monseigneur de Rava et de +Sandomir." + +They had been in Lyon a week. Frédéric had not begun to tire of visiting +the beautiful suburbs of the city, but Dubourg was beginning to tire of +exhibiting himself in the public streets, arm in arm with Ménard. They +had been to all the places of resort, all the theatres, and all the +cafés; everywhere, Dubourg played the great nobleman, and Ménard +unwittingly acted as his accomplice; for the poor fellow was entirely +honest, and deemed himself highly honored to promenade with his pupil's +noble friend, who was always able to produce an apt quotation and +bewildered him by his anecdotes of travel in the four quarters of the +globe. + +For several days, Dubourg had been urging Frédéric to leave Lyon, and he +always postponed their departure to the next day, when one morning +Dubourg received a letter which put an end to his desire to go away. +This letter was addressed to _Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Seigneur +Polonais_. Dubourg read the superscription twice. Who could have written +to him, and by that name? He asked the landlady who had brought the +letter, and was told that it was a servant in livery, who requested that +it be delivered to monsieur le baron in person. + +Dubourg hastened to break the seal, and read as follows: + + "Monsieur le Baron Potoski is invited to pass this evening with + Madame la Marquise de Versac, who will be delighted to entertain + the noble stranger, at his pleasure, during his stay in Lyon." + +The marchioness's address was at the foot of the note, which Dubourg +reread several times, and which diffused an odor of musk and amber +through his room. + +"The devil!" said Dubourg to himself; "an invitation from a marchioness! +This is decidedly flattering! But how does she know me? Parbleu! a man +very soon becomes known when he lives with a certain amount of style. +Besides, people must be beginning to talk about me, after I've paraded +the streets for a week with Ménard, like a white bear." + +Dubourg summoned the landlady again, and asked her if she knew Madame la +Marquise de Versac. + +"The Marquise de Versac? I don't know her personally, but I know her +very well by name. It's one of the oldest and richest families in the +city, and I know madame la marquise has a magnificent country house on +the river, four leagues from Lyon." + +Dubourg asked no more questions; he was in raptures. He dismissed the +landlady, and began to pace the floor, saying to himself: + +"I shall certainly accept madame la marquise's invitation; the +acquaintance cannot fail to be exceedingly agreeable to me, and, who +knows? perhaps I may find there some baroness or viscountess whose head +I can turn; who will marry me, and endow me with estates and châteaux! +Well, what would there be so surprising in that? I am young, not +bad-looking; I have a certain style, which must have attracted Madame la +Marquise de Versac. But, deuce take me! what if she herself---- Ah! I +forgot to ask about that." + +Dubourg rang again, and the landlady reappeared. + +"I beg your pardon, my dear hostess," he said; "but I have reasons for +wishing to know if Madame la Marquise de Versac is married." + +"She is still a widow, I think, monsieur; it's only three years since +Monsieur de Versac died, and since then I haven't heard----" + +"Very good, very good, madame," said Dubourg, dismissing her again; and +he capered about the room, looking at himself in the mirror, and saying: + +"She's a widow! there's no doubt about her being a widow still, or the +invitation would be in her husband's name. Now, this becomes +interesting: a very rich young widow, who has a magnificent country +house, and who writes me that she will be charmed to entertain me! for +that's what it says. Let's read it again: yes, 'delighted to entertain +you.'--It seems to me that that almost amounts to a declaration. You +shall entertain me, charming creature! I promise you. By the way, I +forgot to ask if she was charming, but it can't be otherwise; at all +events, I don't care so much for beauty, now; I am reasonable, I am more +attracted by solid advantages. This very evening she shall see the noble +stranger. But, damnation! when she finds out that the palatine is only a +humble bourgeois! After all, I am an honest Breton, and an honest +Breton's as good as any other man; besides, we haven't come to that yet. +I must begin by captivating her. When a woman is fascinated, does she +recognize ranks and distances? Love equalizes everything: the lord of +the thunder loved simple mortals, and the shepherd Paris had it in his +power to lie with the loveliest goddesses in Olympus. To lie with Madame +de Versac, I'll give her all the apples she wants." + +Ménard made his appearance while Dubourg was strutting about his +bedroom, trying to assume a courtly air. As soon as he caught sight of +the tutor, he thrust the letter into his face, crying: + +"_Tolle, lege_, my dear Ménard." + +Ménard recoiled, because the odor of musk exhaled by the letter made him +ill. + +"Doesn't that smell rather like a marchioness, eh?" said Dubourg, +inhaling the perfume ecstatically. "Well, Ménard, what do you say to +this letter?" + +"I see nothing surprising in it, monsieur le baron; you must be +accustomed to receive similar ones wherever you go." + +"True, you are right, Ménard; I don't mean to imply that I am surprised; +I say that the note is well turned, eh?" + +"Very well turned, monsieur le baron." + +"It was evidently written by a woman who knows her man, wasn't it?" + +"Certainly, monsieur le baron, she must know him." + +"But I mean that it doesn't resemble such notes as--as little Delphine +had the presumption to write me." + +"Who was this Delphine, monsieur le baron?" + +"Oh! she was a little countess, on Boulevard du Temple, whose receptions +used to be attended by a large number of noblemen of my stamp." + +"Monsieur le baron will accept Madame la Marquise de Versac's +invitation, of course?" + +"Accept it? most assuredly. Let us dine at once, Monsieur Ménard, so +that I need think of nothing but dressing. Where's Frédéric?" + +"Admiring some new view, no doubt; he told me that he should not return +till evening; I think he intends to leave Lyon to-morrow." + +"To-morrow! Oh! we'll see about that; we have all the time there is, and +we're very comfortable here, aren't we, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"Very, monsieur le baron; but, you know, we are traveling for----" + +"I know that we shouldn't leave a city till we know it thoroughly, and +Frédéric can't know this city yet, as he's always in the suburbs. You +must persuade him of that, Monsieur Ménard." + +"I will do my utmost, monsieur le baron." + +Dubourg ate little dinner; he was too much engrossed by thoughts of his +evening to have any appetite; a child does not eat, when his father has +promised to take him to the play. We are big children; the anticipation +of a new pleasure always produces the same effect on us. + +Dubourg deliberated concerning his toilet. If he had had time, he would +have ordered a dress-coat; but he must needs be content with one of +Frédéric's, who was much more slender than he, so that he could never +button it. Should he go in top-boots? That would be rather too informal, +his hostess being a marchioness. But he had no trousers; Frédéric's were +too small for him, and it was not the same with them as with a coat, +which one is always at liberty to leave unbuttoned. Ménard would lend +him a pair, but they would be too large; so he decided to go in boots; +he was a foreigner, a Pole, that fact would be his excuse; moreover, +his silver tassels pleased him immensely. + +At eight o'clock, Dubourg had been dressed more than an hour, and was +pacing the floor of his room, his plumed hat under his arm, practising +dignified bows, graceful smiles, and a noble bearing. He had put the +whole contents of his treasury in his pocket, and, having no watch, he +thought for a moment of taking his steel loop from his hat and placing +it in his fob; but it might be recognized as having been on his hat, so +he contented himself with a red ribbon, of which he showed only the end. +The clock struck nine at last, the hour at which one may decently appear +in society; a carriage was waiting; he entered it, and gave the driver +the address indicated on the note. + +The carriage stopped in a lonely street, before a house of poor +appearance. Dubourg alighted. A lackey, there being no concierge, stood +at the door of the house, apparently posted there as a sentinel; and he +lost no time in ushering Dubourg up a dirty staircase, at the foot of +which were two lamps that seemed surprised to be there. But Dubourg was +going over in his mind the sentence he had prepared for his salutation +to the marchioness, and he did not notice the uncleanness of the house. + +The servant opened a door on the first floor and entered an anteroom, +wherein the eye sought in vain any article of furniture; although it was +dimly lighted, the spots of grease on the walls and the soiled, +discolored floor could be plainly seen. But the servant led Dubourg +through this room at a rapid pace, and, opening another door into the +salon, announced in a loud tone: + +"Monsieur le Baron Potoski!" + +At that name, there was a great commotion in the salon, and a lady rose +and rushed forward to meet Dubourg, expressing in the most cordial terms +her pleasure in receiving him as her guest. + +Dubourg answered whatever came into his head; he walked into the room, +saluting to right and left, and dropped into a chair beside the Marquise +de Versac, whom he then took occasion to scrutinize. He saw that he had +been wise not to indulge his imagination in advance. The mistress of the +house was a woman who seemed to be fully forty-five years of age, +despite the care with which she had blackened her eyebrows, reddened her +lips, and whitened her complexion. She was fashionably dressed, but her +gown, which had a long train, seemed to embarrass her; her head was +overladen with flowers and ribbons, and a triple necklace of pearls +embellished a long, yellow neck, rising pitifully above a pair of +fleshless shoulders, which the marchioness was barbarous enough to +expose to all eyes, as if they were pleasing to the sight. + +Dubourg did not stop to examine all that; he remembered what his +landlady had said to him, and tried to think the marchioness charming. +While she addressed him in the most flattering terms, he cast a glance +about the salon. + +An antiquated chandelier, suspended from the ceiling, lighted the room, +which was very large; the hangings must once have been handsome, but +were beginning to show too many signs of age. The floor was covered with +an immense rug, which was never made for a salon. The covering of the +furniture was of two colors: there was a blue ottoman and yellow chairs; +and the latter were not alike. In default of a clock, there was an +enormous jar of flowers in the centre of the mantel, and a number of +candlesticks on either side. Several card-tables of different sizes +completed the furnishing of that salon, which seemed to Dubourg to be +quite as venerable as Madame de Versac's family. + +Having examined the room, Dubourg turned his attention to the company. +There were only three ladies besides the marchioness. One, who seemed to +be about sixty years old, and who was called the baroness, talked +incessantly of her estates, her châteaux, her property, and her +servants; she talked so loud that there was not a moment's silence. A +young woman, who was rather pretty, but seemed rather awkward, and did +not open her mouth except to laugh or to say _yes_ or _no_, was called +the Vicomtesse de Fairfignan; while the third, who was apparently about +thirty years old, and whom they called Madame de Grandcourt, was half +reclining on the ottoman, evidently disposed to flirt; for she cast +languorous glances at all the men, and made abundant use of her eyes, +which had been handsome, but were so encircled with black that her +eyebrows seemed to extend all the way round. + +There were seven or eight men in the company; all of them seemed to be +counts, or barons, or chevaliers, but not one of them, either in dress +or bearing, gave any sign of wealth or rank. Monsieur le chevalier had a +frock-coat, the sleeves of which were so short that they were far from +reaching his wrists; and when he drew his handkerchief, he took great +care to turn his back and conceal it from the company. + +The count wore torn lace wristbands, and a ruff stained with liquor and +tobacco. He seemed to take great satisfaction in displaying his hands, +which were covered with huge rings with red and yellow stones; but the +blackness of the hands themselves produced a curious effect beside the +wristbands and the jewels. + +The baron, who had his hair powdered, and seemed much embarrassed by his +queue, which kept getting inside his collar, wore a new black coat and +an old pair of nankeen trousers, over which dangled charms in the shape +of fruit and shells. + +The other men were dressed in the same style. + +"Sacrebleu!" thought Dubourg, astounded by the aspect of all those noble +personages; "if my landlady hadn't told me what she did about the +Marquise de Versac, I should imagine that I was at an old-clothes +dealer's, with a parcel of counts from Rue Vide-Gousset." + +Meanwhile, the conversation did not flag. Everybody talked and laughed +at once. They manifested the greatest consideration for Baron Potoski; +the marchioness overwhelmed him with attentions, the old baroness +invited him to visit her in the country, the viscountess smiled upon +him, and Madame de Grandcourt flashed glances at him the meaning whereof +was not at all equivocal, while the men applauded everything he said. +Dubourg was flattered by these attentions, for the shrewdest and +cleverest men generally allow themselves to be cajoled by anything that +flatters their self-esteem. + +Punch, liqueurs, and sweetmeats were served, and the whole company +pounced upon them. The old baroness drank like a porter, the viscountess +stuffed herself with cakes, and the languorous Grandcourt swallowed two +glasses of punch in rapid succession, exclaiming that it was not strong +enough. + +Dubourg imitated his neighbors; he helped himself to punch, and +complimented Madame de Versac on the liveliness of her company. + +"Oh! we don't stand on ceremony," she replied; "what's the use of +tedious formalities between people who are all as good as one another?" + +"True, you are right; I like this sort of thing," said Dubourg, +beginning already to feel the effects of the punch. "Etiquette is a +burden that people of sense should leave at the door." + +"Ah! Monsieur de Potoski, you talk like Barême!" said the old baroness, +returning to the punch. "You are a palatine of the old stock." + +"Not very old, madame." + +"But the best, at all events," said Madame de Versac, resting her foot +lightly on Dubourg's; whereupon he turned and tried to gaze tenderly at +her, at the same time passing his hand behind the marchioness, who +allowed him to take liberties without seeming to notice it, which +Dubourg considered very patrician behavior. + +"For my part, I like to talk nonsense," said the young viscountess, who +was beginning to venture upon a sentence or two, now that she had eaten. +"It makes me tired when[B] everyone's sober-faced." + + [B] "_Ousqu'on_ est serieux," instead of _quand on_, etc. + +The viscountess's _ousqu'on_ made Dubourg wince; Madame de Versac +noticed it, and made haste to whisper to him: + +"She's a German; she speaks with a strong accent." + +"But aren't you going to give us something to do this evening, madame la +marquise?" said the chevalier, pulling at his sleeves to lengthen them. + +"That's so, my love," said the baroness; "why don't we play cards?" + +"Ah! yes, let us do something," said Madame de Grandcourt, rolling her +eyes seductively; "I must always be doing something." + +"Perhaps Monsieur de Potoski does not play?" said the marchioness, +turning to Dubourg. + +"I beg your pardon, madame; I shall be very glad to play." + +"In that case, I will start the tables. You are sure that you care to +play, baron?" + +"With great pleasure, madame," said Dubourg, overjoyed to have an excuse +for removing his hand, which he was tired of holding behind Madame de +Versac's back. + +Several games of écarté were begun. The chevalier proposed a game of +_creps_ for the ladies; whereupon Dubourg said to himself: + +"It seems that the ladies of the best society have tastes very different +from their sisters of the bourgeoisie; perhaps madame la marquise is +fond of _biribi_ too." + +Monsieur de Potoski found himself at an écarté table with the count, +whose lace cuffs did not prevent his dealing the cards with rare skill. +The game soon became animated. A tall, thin gentleman, who stood near +Dubourg, bet rolls of twenty-five louis on his game, which he placed on +the table without unrolling them, and which passed rapidly into the +count's pockets, the tall man, whose threadbare costume might have led +one to take him for an unfortunate petitioner for alms, seeming to pay +no heed whatever to his loss. + +"These men play a very noble game," said Dubourg to himself; and, not +choosing to be outdone by the person who was betting on him, he doubled +his stakes, and his money passed into the hands with the lace cuffs. But +the punch circulated freely; to please Madame de Grandcourt, it had +been made much stronger; the company began to get excited and the game +became animated. + +Madame de Versac seated herself beside Dubourg. + +"I mean to bring Monsieur de Potoski good luck," she said, sitting close +against him, and showing a row of teeth set like a wild boar's tusks. + +"I trust that you will change the luck, madame!" observed Dubourg, who +had already lost more than a thousand francs, which he was determined to +win back. Madame la marquise made no other reply than to place her foot +lovingly on his. With each game that Dubourg lost, she bore down a +little heavier, and tried to make him forget his bad luck by saying +sweet things to him; but Dubourg did not listen. + +"I hope to see you often, Monsieur de Potoski." + +"Yes, madame.--Ten louis more, this time." + +"I am a bold player," said the count; "I'll take whatever you bet." + +"Yes, of course, monsieur le comte will give you your revenge," said the +marchioness, "if you lose to-night." + +"If I lose!" muttered Dubourg; "I should say so! almost two thousand +francs! What a breach in my cash-box!" + +"You must come to my country house on the Rhône, my dear Potoski. I +insist on your coming." + +"Yes, madame la marquise; yes, most certainly.--The king is always in +the other hand! it's the most extraordinary thing!" + +"We will walk in my park." + +"Beaten again!" + +"We will enjoy the fresh, cool breezes in the evening." + +"It's stifling here!" + +"Pray take something." + +"I should be glad to take back just what I have lost." + +"Do you remain long in Lyon?" + +"The devil take me if I know!" + +And Dubourg, who had lost three thousand francs, and was tired of +feeling madame la marquise's foot on his, rose abruptly and walked about +the room. + +Madame de Grandcourt was stretched out on a long chair in a corner. A +short man with whiskers and moustache sat on a stool almost at her feet; +he had passed one arm about his charmer's waist, and the hand of the +other was screened from view by the folds of a faded satin gown. + +The old baroness and the young viscountess were playing _creps_ with the +chevalier. The faces of the ladies were much flushed; the baroness had a +glass of punch before her, and was gazing with glassy eyes at the dice, +shrieking and disputing over a ten-sou piece which she would not admit +that she had lost. The viscountess had recovered the use of her tongue +by eating sweetmeats, and she indulged in frequent solecisms which must +have opened Dubourg's eyes if he had been himself; but he was not; his +losses had disturbed his mental balance, already shaken by the punch and +liqueurs. He strode about the salon, looking without seeing, listening +without hearing the marchioness's compliments, and passing his hand +across his forehead as if to tranquillize his thoughts. He tried to go +away, but returned again and again to the card-tables, saying to +himself: + +"I absolutely must win back my three thousand francs!" + +He took a seat at the _creps_ table and called to the count, who was +talking in a corner with the man in the threadbare coat who staked rolls +of louis which no one saw. + +"Monsieur," said Dubourg, raising his voice, "I trust that you will not +refuse to give me my revenge at this game, at which I may perhaps have +better luck." + +"With great pleasure," replied the count with the lace cuffs. + +He hastened to the _creps_ table, which the viscountess and baroness +instantly quitted; indeed, they soon left the salon, as did Madame de +Grandcourt; but Dubourg was too intent upon his game to observe the +disappearance of the ladies. + +All the men formed a circle about the _creps_ table. Dubourg was allowed +to choose whether he would punt or be banker. He chose the latter, and +madame la marquise, seated close beside him, took pains always to pick +up the dice and the box and hand them to him. Dubourg lost; he no longer +knew what he was doing; he threw dice and dice-box on the floor. Someone +proposed _trente-et-un_, and he accepted; that finished him; in less +than half an hour, the rest of the contents of his cash-box vanished. He +felt in all his pockets, in his fob--not a sou! he had lost everything, +and the money was not his! He did not speak, but paced the floor for +some moments, pale and haggard, biting his lips, clenching his fists, +and uttering a fierce oath from time to time. The candles began to go +out; the counts and chevaliers whispered together and seemed +embarrassed; the marchioness withdrew to a corner of the salon, not +deeming the moment favorable for treading on Monsieur de Potoski's foot. + +At last, Dubourg, throwing off his depression, seemed to have determined +upon his course. He went to get his hat, which he had placed under a +chair, and left the room, slamming the door violently behind him; he +passed through the anteroom, where four tall fellows, only one of whom +was in livery, were busily drinking, opened the door into the hall, and +started downstairs. Not until he was halfway down, and attempted to put +on his hat, did he discover that he had a wretched tile, without band or +lining, which someone had substituted for his fine hat with a plume. + +"By heaven, this is too much!" he exclaimed, turning back; "not content +with having filched my money, they propose to filch my hat too! Ah! my +worthy counts and chevaliers, we'll see about that!" + +Dubourg rang the bell violently; no one came. He rang again, and beat +the door with his hands and feet, until at last it was opened. + +"What do you want?" demanded the servant in livery. + +"What do I want? I want my hat, which your chevalier of +I-don't-know-what has taken instead of his own miserable tile." + +"There's no hat of yours here." + +"What's that, you blackguard! you dare to tell me that?" + +"Hold your tongue, monsieur! don't make so much noise in the house; +madame la marquise don't like it." + +"Go to the devil with your madame la marquise, who lets people pinch her +wantonly so as to fleece them! I insist on going in; I'll find a way to +get back my hat." + +"You cannot go in! Help, my friends! Here's a man who means to make +trouble!" + +The three others ran to his assistance. They seized Dubourg by the +shoulders; he struggled and fought to no purpose, being the weaker +party. They forced him down the stairs, yelling and calling them curs +and thieves, as well as their employers. The four tall rascals made no +reply, but pushed him into the street and shut the door in his face. + +"Ah! the villains!" he cried, rearranging his clothes, which he had come +near losing with all the rest in the struggle he had had. "Ah! the +scoundrels! What a fine evening I have had, to be sure! Ouf! I've a good +mind to stone the house and break the windows. But, no, I think I'll +call--probably the watch will pass before long." + +He stood in the street a moment, undecided as to what he should do. But +it was very late, the street was deserted, and by remaining there he ran +the risk of being arrested himself; he reflected that he was a stranger +in the city, and that he had assumed a title which did not belong to +him. All these reasons led him to decide to wait until morning before he +sought to obtain justice at the hands of madame la marquise. Meanwhile, +it behooved him to find the way back to his hotel. + +But how could he show his face before Frédéric and Ménard, after losing +all the money they had intrusted to him? He had nothing left, and they +owed a considerable sum at their hotel. + +Dubourg tore his hair and beat his breast as he strode through the +streets of Lyon. At last he arrived at the hotel, and addressed himself +in the following words: + +"Whatever happens, I must end by making the best of it. Even if I should +pass the night chastising myself in the street, it wouldn't bring back a +sou to my purse. So I may as well go to bed; to-morrow, we'll see about +getting out of the scrape." + + + + +VIII + +BEHOLD HER! + + +Frédéric, when he returned to the hotel during the evening, found Ménard +seated alone before the remains of a chicken with which the quondam +tutor had passed a part of the time since Dubourg's departure. Surprised +not to find the latter, the young count inquired of Ménard as to his +whereabouts, and was told that monsieur le baron had gone to pass the +evening with one of the leading families of the city, from whom he had +received an invitation. + +It seemed very strange to Frédéric that Dubourg should receive +invitations at Lyon, where he knew nobody, and he feared that this +"leading family" might be an invention of his friend. However, he was +careful not to convey his suspicions to Ménard, but simply informed him +that he proposed to resume his journey the next day. + +"Monsieur le baron isn't in such a hurry as he was," said Ménard; "he is +very well pleased with Lyon." + +"Why, only this morning he urged me to leave the place!" + +"This invitation seems to have changed his views." + +"Monsieur le baron may do as he pleases, but we shall start to-morrow." + +Ménard made no reply, but went to bed, considering that his pupil was +taking great liberties with such a man as the palatine; and Frédéric +did the same, although he was somewhat disturbed by Dubourg's absence. + +Early the next morning, Ménard and the young count met in the room where +they were accustomed to meet for breakfast. But Dubourg did not appear. + +"Can it be that he stayed out all night?" asked Frédéric. + +"I beg your pardon, monsieur," said one of the servants of the hotel; +"monsieur le baron came in about three o'clock this morning; he seemed +very tired, and he is still in bed." + +"What folly to sit up all night when we were to start to-day! But where +in the devil has he been?--Go and tell him that we are waiting for him." + +After some time, the servant returned and announced that monsieur le +baron was sick and could not rise. + +"The rascal must have been drunk last night," thought Frédéric; and, +followed by Ménard, who began by rubbing his nose and temples with +vinegar to ward off contagion, he went to Dubourg's bedroom. They found +him in bed; he had pulled his nightcap over his eyes and tied his +handkerchief over it, and his face wore such a piteous expression, that +one would have thought that he had been confined to his bed in agony for +three months. + +Ménard halted in the middle of the room and held a smelling-bottle to +his nose, saying in an undertone to Frédéric. + +"Mon Dieu! how he has changed!" + +"What's the matter with you, in heaven's name, my poor Dubourg?" said +Frédéric, taking the hand of the sick man, who had employed every known +means to give himself an attack of fever. + +"Alas! my dear friend, I feel very ill." + +"How did it come on?" + +"Ah! it was brought on by something that happened--a terrible adventure; +the shock of it was the cause of my illness." + +"You must see a doctor, first of all." + +"I will go for one, and an apothecary too," said Ménard, who was anxious +for an excuse to go out into the open air. + +"No, no, my dear Monsieur Ménard," Dubourg interposed, in a faint voice; +"I don't like doctors; we have plenty of time. Hippocrates himself said: +_Vita brevis, ars longa, experientia fallax_." + +"Very true, monsieur le baron; but the same Hippocrates says in another +place----" + +"Oh! for heaven's sake, drop Hippocrates!" cried Frédéric, fancying that +he could read in Dubourg's eyes that he was not so ill as he chose to +appear. "As you won't have a doctor, do at least tell us the cause of +your illness, this terrible adventure----" + +"Yes," said Ménard, taking pains to seat himself as far as possible from +the bed, where he could get the air from the hall. "Let us know if it +might become contagious." + +Dubourg sat up in bed; he raised his eyes heaven-ward, uttered two or +three plaintive groans, pulled his nightcap still further over his eyes, +and began his tale in a most heartrending tone. + +"The excellent Ménard has undoubtedly told you that I received yesterday +an invitation to one of the first houses in the city. At all events, +that is what our landlady assured me--otherwise----" + +"Yes, he told me that--what next? explain yourself!" said Frédéric, +impatient at Dubourg's roundabout way of reaching the facts. + +"Gently! I am in no condition to go so fast, my dear Frédéric.--Well, I +started out in a cab last night, after making a careful toilet." + +"Yes; I noticed that you took one of my coats." + +"You know perfectly well that I lost my wardrobe with my berlin." + +"Well?" + +"By some fatality, it happened that I put the purse containing the whole +of our fortune in the pocket of your coat." + +"Ah! this begins to look bad," whispered Frédéric, while Ménard, even +more disturbed than he, began to draw his chair nearer. + +"Well? go on." + +"Well, monsieur le baron?" + +"Well, my dear and noble friends, on leaving that brilliant society, +where, to tell the truth, I stayed rather late, I found no carriage at +the door. I was alone, in a street that I did not know. Suddenly four +cutthroats leaped upon me. Alas! I had no weapons, but I defended myself +like a lion. But all in vain! They beat me and threw me down, and the +worst of it is that they robbed me of all the money I had about me." + +"Great God! and you had our funds?" cried Ménard. + +"I did." + +"And your own fifteen thousand francs?" + +"Everything--every sou, I tell you. There is nothing left, except what +you two have about you. They took everything, even my superb hat, with +its steel buckle worth sixty francs." + +"What a catastrophe! what are we to do?" exclaimed Ménard, who was +terribly distressed to think that, after living like lords, they were +reduced to living by their wits. + +Frédéric said nothing; he was suspicious of Dubourg's tale; and that +worthy, perceiving his incredulity, tried to overcome it by crying every +minute: + +"What a fatality! to be attacked and robbed! Such things happen to +nobody but me!" + +"Indeed, monsieur le baron, you do seem to be unlucky," said Ménard, +remembering the theft of the berlin. + +"With whom did you pass the evening?" inquired Frédéric. + +"With Madame la Marquise de Versac." + +"With Madame de Versac! That's very extraordinary, for I saw her +yesterday at her country house." + +"You saw her! What do you mean? Do you know her?" cried Dubourg, in a +voice that did not at all resemble an invalid's. + +"Madame de Versac came to my father's house several times, when she was +in Paris last year. In the summer, she lives at her country house. I saw +her there yesterday, I tell you, and she reproved me gently for not +coming there to stay with her; she certainly did not come back to the +city." + +"Great God! what do I hear? How old is this marchioness?" + +"Not over twenty-eight; her town house is on Place Bellecour." + +"Ten thousand cigars! that was a contraband marchioness! What an +infernal fool, not to have discovered it!" + +Dubourg jumped up and down in his bed, rolled himself up in the +bedclothes, snatched off his nightcap and threw it on the floor, while +Ménard cried: + +"Monsieur le baron is mad; I am going to fetch an apothecary!" + +The tutor left the room, and Frédéric was not sorry, for it gave him an +opportunity to have an explanation with Dubourg; but for several minutes +he absolutely refused to keep still; he was in a frenzy at the +recollection of the soi-disant counts and chevaliers. He dressed in hot +haste, swearing that he would find his baron with the watch-charms, his +threadbare chevalier, and his blackleg with lace cuffs; that he would +break the baroness's remaining teeth, beat the viscountess, and +horsewhip madame la marquise. + +At last, Frédéric succeeded in making himself heard. + +"So you gambled last night, you wretch, did you? and that is where our +funds have gone?" + +"Ah! my friend, beat me, kill me! I know that I am a good-for-naught. +But, really, you would have done the same in my place. When a person +assumes a respectable name---- For my part, I went there in all +confidence, hoping to make an advantageous match. I heard people all +about me talking of nothing but 'my estates, my châteaux, my servants, +my millions'--as I would say 'my cane' or 'my hat.' And then, they dazed +me with attentions and liqueurs. Still, I ought to have noticed that +there was a suspicious look to it all; but what can you expect? +Unluckily, I am not accustomed to good society. I took the pressure of +one woman's foot for patrician manners, and another woman's blunders in +grammar for a German accent. We played cards,--I confess that I love +cards,--and they stripped me of everything, even to my hat! But they +haven't seen the end of it!" + +"Where are you going?" said Frédéric, trying to detain his friend, who +had taken his shocking old hat as if to go out. + +"Let me go, let me go! I am going to hunt up my blacklegs, and +perhaps---- Wait here for me." + +Dubourg opened the door just as Ménard returned with an apothecary's +clerk, who had a sedative potion in each hand. + +Dubourg roughly pushed the tutor aside when he tried to stop him, and +descended the stairs four at a time, while the tutor collided with the +apothecary, who fell to the floor with his potions. + +"We must send somebody after him," said Ménard, thinking that Dubourg +was in a high fever. Frédéric had some difficulty in inducing him to +dismiss the apothecary, by assuring him that the baron was very much +better. + +Dubourg betook himself to the residence of his false marchioness, whose +address he had retained. He was obliged to go on foot, and he no longer +assumed the air of a great noble. The eyeglass would have accorded but +ill with the wretched tile, which was not half large enough for him. But +at that time he was thinking exclusively of his money, not at all of his +costume. When he reached the house he had visited the night before, +which he readily recognized from having scrutinized it carefully in the +night, he entered the hall, the door of which was open, went upstairs, +and looked and listened, but neither saw anybody nor heard a sound. He +rang at the door of the apartment from which he had been ejected so +roughly, but no one answered the bell. He rang again and again, with +increasing violence, until the bell-pull came off in his hand, but the +door remained closed. + +"Open, you rascals, you blacklegs! or I'll go for a magistrate," cried +Dubourg, putting his mouth to the keyhole. Finally an old woman appeared +on the landing above and asked him why he was making such an uproar. + +"I want to speak with the people who live here on the first floor," he +replied. + +"There's no one living there now, monsieur; it was let furnished to a +woman who went away this morning before daybreak." + +Dubourg was petrified. He realized that he could not hope to recover his +money. He returned slowly and dejectedly to the hotel, and joined +Frédéric and Ménard with an expression of utter dismay. + +"Well, what about the robbers?" inquired Frédéric. + +"Ah! my friend, they have fled." + +"I was sure of it." + +"But you have entered a complaint with the magistrate, surely, monsieur +le baron?" + +"I have done all that there was to do, Monsieur Ménard; but I fancy that +we may say good-bye to our money." + +"In that case, what are we going to do?" + +"That is what we must consider.--How much money have you, Monsieur +Ménard?" + +"Not more than two louis." + +"And you, Frédéric?" + +"I have about ten." + +"That isn't enough to pay our landlord, for we must owe him at least +three hundred francs." + +"What! hasn't he been paid?" + +"Who ever heard of making people of our sort pay in advance?" + +"But think how extravagant we have been!" + +"We had to live; and what difference does it make whether we owe one +hundred francs or three hundred, as we can't pay?" + +"However, we cannot leave this hotel without settling our account, and +we cannot continue our journey without money." + +"That would be rather difficult, to be sure," said Ménard. + +"I see but one way to get any," said Dubourg, "and that is to apply to +Monsieur le Comte de Montreville. He certainly won't leave his son in +straits." + +"Ask monsieur le comte for money, when it isn't three weeks since we +left Paris! What will he think?" murmured Ménard, with a sigh.--"What if +monsieur le baron should write to his steward at Rava or Krapach?" + +"Why, I would write in a moment, but it's so far!--It would take at +least two months to get an answer, because at this time of year the +mails are greatly delayed by avalanches." + +"What, monsieur le baron, in summer?" + +"Summer is the season when the snow melts. Pardieu! if it was winter, +they could make half the distance on snow-shoes. We couldn't wait all +that time in this inn; we must have money at once." + +"My dear Ménard," said Frédéric, "you really must apply to my father." + +"Well, I will write him what has happened to monsieur le baron----" + +"No, no; you are the one he gave the money to, and you are the one who +was robbed; it's useless to mention me. Just imagine that you were the +one who was robbed last night." + +"Come, my dear Ménard, write my father a most pathetic letter." + +"The deuce! that's a very hard task." + +"I'll dictate to you, if you choose," said Dubourg. + +"You will oblige me very much, monsieur le baron." + +So Ménard took the pen, and Dubourg dictated the following letter: + + "MONSIEUR LE COMTE: + + "I have the honor to inform you of our safe arrival at Lyon, where + I was attacked at night, as I was returning to our hotel, and + robbed of all that we possessed; which places us in a very + embarrassing position, from which we beg you to extricate us as + soon as possible. Monsieur your son is as well as Esculapius + himself; the journey seems to have done him a vast amount of good. + He bids me offer you his most respectful homage." + +Ménard signed this letter, to which Dubourg desired Frédéric to add a +few affectionate words. But Frédéric had never lied to his father, and +he preferred to write nothing rather than to try to deceive him. + +The letter was mailed, and they had no choice but to await the reply. +Luckily, their landlord did not seem at all disturbed. Moreover, +Frédéric had a chaise and horses, which, at need, would bring more than +enough to pay their bill; that fact set his mind at rest, but he none +the less urged his companions to spend less on the table. Dubourg, +however, did not agree with him; he thought that such a course might +arouse suspicions of their plight, and Ménard was once more of monsieur +le baron's opinion. + +Frédéric resumed his wanderings; but Dubourg abandoned his street +promenades with Ménard; after parading his fashionable costume and +playing the wealthy palatine on the public thoroughfares of Lyon, he did +not care to show himself in a shabby hat and with a long face; he was +convinced that people would divine that he was penniless: there are so +many men who owe their self-confidence and their assurance entirely to +the money they have in their pockets, which alone gives them aplomb in +society. + +Dubourg passed his days talking philosophy with Ménard, who was no +philosopher, but listened attentively to the baron, whom he considered a +man of profound learning, though he was no longer so overjoyed to have +him for a travelling companion, because, when he recalled their +adventures, from the time that the palatine had overturned them into a +ditch, it seemed to him that Monsieur de Potoski carried about with him +a monumental ill luck, of which they had already felt the effects. + +After ten days, they received a reply from the count; it was addressed +to Monsieur Ménard, but it was Frédéric who, with a trembling hand, +broke the seal. + +"See what there is enclosed, first," said Dubourg. + +They found a draft on a Lyon banker for six thousand francs. + +"Good! here's something to help us endure papa's reproaches," said +Dubourg; "now let's read his letter." + +Monsieur de Montreville wrote to Ménard these few words only: + + "I place no sort of credence in your fable of robbers, but I am + very glad to forgive my son's first escapade; I trust, however, + that it will make him more prudent. I send you some money, but do + not rely upon the like indulgence again." + +"He didn't believe us," said Frédéric. + +"I am very much afraid that he is angry," said Ménard. + +"Oh! don't be alarmed; he'll cool down. Hereafter, we will travel like +three little pasteboard Cupids; we will be virtuous, orderly; in short, +true philosophers--which need not interfere with our living well, +because that is necessary for our health; eh, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"_Credo equidem_, monsieur le baron." + +"But no more pomp and parade; I resume my incognito." + +"What, monsieur le baron!" + +"Yes, Monsieur Ménard; at all events, with six thousand francs we +couldn't play the grandee very long--I mean, live up to our rank." + +"But, monsieur le baron, when you have received answers from Rava and +Krapach?" + +"Oh! then it will be different; but I fear we shall not have them for a +long time. As to the funds, I think that we had better let Frédéric take +charge of them. He is calm and cool, and that is what we need in a +cashier." + +"It's a great pity," muttered Ménard; "we lived so handsomely when +monsieur le baron paid the bills!" + +All their plans being made, they paid their hotel bill; it amounted to +eight hundred and fifty francs for the three weeks they had passed +there, so that the count's remittance was seriously impaired at the +outset; but meanwhile they had been lodged and fed like lords. Dubourg's +only sentiment was regret at their inability to continue the same mode +of life; Ménard sighed as he thought of the delicious repasts they had +enjoyed; and Frédéric observed to Dubourg, in an undertone: + +"My friend, if we had continued to go so fast, we shouldn't have gone +very far." + +Monsieur le comte's horses were sold, and they arranged with a +stable-keeper to journey from Lyon. + +"These two halts have cost you dear, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; "a +berlin and fifty thousand francs the first time, and fifteen thousand +the second! A man could not travel long at that price!" + +"My mind is at rest now, Monsieur Ménard; I defy anyone to rob me. +Socrates found his house large enough to receive his friends, and I +shall find my purse full enough so long as Frédéric pays for me." + +Ménard had no reply to make to that; the comparison did not seem to him +a happy one. + +Instead of taking the road to Turin, Frédéric gave orders to drive +toward Grenoble; he desired to visit that city and its suburbs, +especially the Carthusian monastery, whose wild aspect astounds and +almost terrifies the traveller. Dubourg was in no hurry to reach Italy; +it mattered little to him in which direction they went. Moreover, since +his last misadventure, he did not presume to offer his advice. As for +Ménard, he was always ready to yield to Frédéric's wishes, but the name +of the Carthusian monastery made him shudder; he was afraid that his +former pupil would want to take up his quarters in some hermitage, and +he felt no sort of inclination for a frugal life. + +As they drew near the banks of the Isère, the country became more +picturesque, more mountainous, and more impressive. The fields were +interspersed with thickets; the brooks, after trickling across a plain, +plunged in foamy cascades over steep cliffs. How different the scene +from the noisy suburbs of Paris and the lovely landscapes of the Rhône +valley! The picture was more serious, more majestic perhaps, disposing +the mind to pleasant reverie, and wafting one's thoughts far from the +turmoil of great cities. + +"What a beautiful country this is!" said Frédéric; "I find here an +indefinable charm which fascinates my heart as well as my eyes. How +pleasant it is to drive along these shady roads!" + +"And dream of Madame Dernange, I suppose?" + +"Oh! no, Dubourg; she has been out of my thoughts for a long while, I +assure you, as have all the rest of the coquettes I knew in Paris." + +"Well, what do you dream about, then, in your long, solitary walks?" + +"Alas! I don't know; I dream of a being I have never seen, a woman who +is lovely, sweet-tempered, loving, and, above all, faithful!" + +"And you look for her on the banks of a brook?" + +"I don't look for her; I am waiting for chance to bring us together." + +"If chance should wait for thirty years or so, you would both be a +trifle mature." + +"Oh! Dubourg, how irritating you are! you have no idea of love!" + +"Love, my friend, is a doll that everyone dresses according to his own +fancy;--isn't that so, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I cannot answer from experience, monsieur le baron." + +In due time they arrived at Grenoble, where they dismissed their driver. +Their arrangements there were not the same as at Lyon; but although the +hotel was less palatial, they had an excellent table; poultry was +abundant, and the wine very good. Monsieur Ménard and Dubourg made the +best of it. + +On the day following their arrival, Frédéric and his companions started +off to visit the Carthusian monastery. Dubourg, having ceased to play +the grand seigneur, was quite as willing to accompany his friend as to +remain with Ménard, and the latter decided to go along, although he was +a poor walker, and Frédéric, the better to enjoy the country, proposed +to go on foot. + +The monastery, which they reached after half a day's walk, first appears +to the visitor surrounded by mountains covered with firs, by fertile +valleys and rich pasture lands. Approaching by Fourvoyerie, you follow a +road hewn out of the solid rock, with a rushing mountain stream on the +left, and a perpendicular cliff sixty feet high on the right. One +inevitably feels an unfamiliar sensation, a blending of wonder and +alarm, at sight of that wild landscape. + +They stopped to examine the peak called L'Aiguille, which towers above +the gate of the Grande Chartreuse. Frédéric was lost in admiration, +Dubourg looked calmly at the rock, and Ménard sighed; but the hospitable +welcome they received at the Chartreuse revived the poor tutor's +spirits; while he agreed that there were many superb views in that +region, he felt that he preferred his little fourth-floor room on Rue +Bétisy to the most picturesque cell in the monastery, where, moreover, +fast-days were very numerous. It is not given to everybody to appreciate +the beauties of nature; and it was with extreme delight that Ménard +started to return to Grenoble, although Frédéric proposed that they +should sleep at the Chartreuse to avoid overtiring themselves. Ménard +declared that he was not tired, and that the walk of five leagues had no +terrors for him; so they set out, after dinner. + +The sun was just setting and our travellers were still four leagues from +Grenoble, because Frédéric paused every instant to call his friends' +attention to a valley, a windmill, or a lovely view. Every time that +Frédéric stopped, Ménard sat down on the turf, and they had much +difficulty in inducing him to rise again. The worthy man was not a +great walker, but he summoned all his courage and took the liberty of +clinging to the arm of monsieur le baron, who was the most good-natured +fellow in the world when he was not putting on the airs of a palatine. + +Frédéric's attention was attracted by strains of rustic music. + +"Come," he said, "let us go down in this direction; I see some villagers +dancing below; let us enjoy the picture of their merrymaking." + +"Come on," said Dubourg; "there are probably some pretty girls among the +dancers." + +"Let us go," said Ménard; "we shall have a chance to rest and refresh +ourselves." + +They descended a hill into a valley bordered by oaks and firs, where +there were assembled the people of a small village which could be seen +farther up the valley. It was the local saint's day, and the peasants +were celebrating it by dancing. The orchestra consisted of a bagpipe and +tambourine, but that was quite enough for their purpose. Happiness shone +on every face; the girls wore their best gowns, and the coquettish +costume of the village maidens of that province makes them most +attractive, as a general rule. The older people were seated a little +apart, chatting together and drinking, while their children danced. + +Ménard seated himself at a table, and called for refreshments. Dubourg +prowled about the dancers, making sweet speeches to the prettiest +peasants; while Frédéric, after watching the picture for some time, +walked away from the dance, along the bank of a stream which wound in +and out among the willows on the edge of a dense forest. + +He had walked so far that the notes of the bagpipe hardly reached his +ears, and was about to return to his companions, when, on turning his +head, he espied, within a few paces, a young girl seated on the bank, +looking toward the valley with a bewitchingly sweet expression, and +smiling at the dance, which she could see in the distance; but there was +in her smile a tinge of melancholy which seemed to be a natural part of +it. She was apparently fifteen or sixteen years of age. Her garments +indicated poverty, but her charms made one overlook them. Beautiful fair +hair played in curls about her innocent brow, her features were refined +and delicate, her mouth graceful and smiling, and her soft blue eyes +wore a pathetic expression of gentle melancholy which harmonized with +the pallor of her complexion. + +Frédéric stopped and gazed at the young woman; he could not tire of +contemplating her. Why was she there, alone by the brook, while her +companions were making merry and dancing? Why that melancholy +expression? It was only a moment since Frédéric's eyes had fallen upon +her, and his interest was already awakened; he longed to know all about +her; it seemed to him that his heart already shared her sorrows. + +At that moment, several couples passed along the path on their way to +the dance. Frédéric accosted a peasant woman, and said, pointing to the +girl sitting by the brook: + +"Pray, who is that pretty child, and why doesn't she join in your +sports?" + +The villagers stopped and replied, with a compassionate glance at the +girl: + +"Oh! monsieur, the poor dear don't dance! That's Sister Anne." + +Frédéric, surprised, expected some further explanation; but they went on +toward the dance, repeating sadly: + +"That's Sister Anne." + + + + +IX + +WHAT WAS SHE DOING THERE?--THE VILLAGE DANCE + + +The peasants had gone, but Frédéric remained on the path among the +willows, where the last rays of the sun cast but a feeble light. He was +still gazing at the girl, who did not see him because, being no longer +able to see the dance, she had let her head fall on her breast, and her +eyes were fixed on the water flowing at her feet. + +What did those women mean by those words: "Poor dear, she don't dance. +That's Sister Anne"? + +Frédéric was deeply impressed by the tone of commiseration in which this +was said. The villagers seemed to pity the lovely child, and to consider +it perfectly natural that she should take no part in her companions' +pleasures. + +What grief, what possible cause, could keep that pretty girl away from +those scenes of merrymaking? Although her charming features wore an +expression of gentle melancholy, she did not seem to be agitated by any +recent sorrow; on the contrary, she seemed placid and calm; she smiled +at the brook which rippled at her feet, and her soul was evidently as +pure as the water in which her face was reflected. + +The girl was, as it were, wrapped in mystery, and Frédéric longed to +solve that mystery. Anything that concerned Sister Anne was no longer a +matter of indifference to him. He walked toward her very softly; he was +close beside her, and she did not raise her eyes. + +"How is this?" said Frédéric, in a trembling voice; "you do not imitate +your companions? They are dancing within a few yards, and you stay by +yourself in this lonely spot?" + +At the sound of Frédéric's voice, the girl turned her head and started +back in alarm; but, in a moment, reassured by his gentle tone, she +became calm again, and simply rose and moved away from the brook. + +"Have you some trouble, some profound sorrow? Can it be that you, young +as you are, are already acquainted with unhappiness? If it were in my +power to lighten your burden, I should consider myself very fortunate." + +The girl glanced at him with an expression in which melancholy +resignation was blended with gratitude. She fastened her lovely eyes on +his for a moment, then, with a graceful courtesy, started to walk away. +He took her hand and gently detained her. She seemed surprised, yes, +frightened, and withdrew her hand from the young man's, who was already +pressing it. + +"You are going away," said Frédéric, "without answering me, without +deigning to say a word to me?" + +The girl's eyes became even more expressive, as if animated by +indescribable pain; in a moment, they were filled with tears, which +trickled down her almost colorless cheeks. + +"Great heaven! you weep! can it be that I am the cause?" cried Frédéric, +seizing the poor child's hand again. She made a sign, as if to say that +it was not his fault. A faint smile broke through her tears; but she +withdrew her hand again, and, darting into the thickest part of the +wood, as light of foot as a fawn, she speedily disappeared. + +He took a few steps in the same direction; but it was quite dark, and he +could not see where she went. So he returned to the stream and stopped +at the place where she had been sitting. + +Frédéric could not as yet fully realize his feelings, but he was +conscious of a sentiment for that girl more tender, more intense, and at +the same time much more delicious to his heart, than any of his previous +passions. When he lost sight of her, his heart beat violently; it seemed +to him already that she was something to him. What grace, what charms! +But why that melancholy and that silence? They called her Sister Anne: +what was the significance of that title of _Sister_? Did she belong to +some religious order? But, no; her costume did not indicate anything of +that kind, and she was free to go where she chose. But there was an air +of mystery about her. + +"Lovely girl!" thought Frédéric, looking toward the forest in which she +had vanished; "I propose to find out all about you; I propose to see you +again and to allay your grief. I feel that I love you already; yes, I +love you; not as I loved all those coquettes who deceived me, but as you +deserve to be loved; for I read sincerity and innocence in your eyes. +Ah! how happy I should be, if you should come to love me some day!" + +But it had grown quite dark; it was time for him to join his companions. +Frédéric regretfully left the willow-bordered path where he had seen +Sister Anne; but as he returned to the valley, he said to himself: + +"I will see her again; I absolutely must! I won't mention her to +Dubourg; he would laugh at me; he believes that all women are alike; he +has no conception of love.--Poor child! I will soon find out why you +don't take part in your comrades' sports." + +The dancing had become very spirited; the villagers abandoned themselves +with zest to the pastime; joy and happiness were depicted on every face. +The songs of the drinkers blended with the music of the bagpipe and +tambourine. The young men squeezed their sweethearts' hands as they +danced, the maidens smiled sweetly at their lovers, the mothers at their +little ones, and the old men at their bottles. Each smiled at what he +loved best, as if in gratitude for the pleasure it afforded him. + +Ménard, who had seated himself between two sturdy drinkers, listened +calmly to the gossip of the neighborhood, eating a salad the while, and +clinking glasses with his neighbors; for pride is unknown in the +village, and Ménard never exhibited that sentiment inopportunely--that +is to say, he knew enough to make it subordinate to his appetite. + +Dubourg, forgetting his titles of nobility, had joined in the dance. He +was capering about with a pretty brunette, with bright eyes, a retroussé +nose, and an exceedingly shapely leg. The peasant girl was not at all +intimidated by her elegant partner; on the contrary, she kept saying to +him: + +"Come, why don't you dance? you don't move at all!" + +Dubourg performed his dainty little Parisian steps, which are so highly +esteemed in the salons of the capital; but to the villagers that was +nothing more than walking, and the girl said again and again: + +"Can't you dance better'n that? What kind of dancing do you call that? +Come, you must kick up your heels, or I'll take another partner!" + +Thereupon Dubourg, who did not want her to take another partner, made a +telegraph of his arms and legs, and kept them in motion incessantly. +Ménard, watching his performance from his table, said to his neighbors: + +"There's monsieur le baron dancing a polonaise with your young women! +Look, my boys, that's the way they dance at Cracow, and on the Krapach +Mountains! How dignified it is! how graceful! What pretty steps he takes +_per fas et nefas_!" + +Ménard's neighbors opened their eyes to their fullest extent, +understanding nothing of what he said. But Dubourg's partner was +content, and he, seeing that she was inclined to look favorably on him, +ventured to steal a kiss; but she instantly retorted by boxing his ears, +for the village damsels of the suburbs of Grenoble do not resemble the +Gotons of the suburbs of Paris. + +Frédéric stood near the dancers, but paid no heed to the animated +picture before his eyes. He fancied himself still in the lonely path, +and saw, in his imagination, the girl sitting beside the stream. + +Dubourg joined him, having left his partner because he saw that he would +have nothing but his capers and prancing for his pains, and because the +cuffing the peasant had given him had cooled his ardor for the dance. + +"Where on earth have you been?" he asked; "you left us at just the wrong +time." + +"I have been taking a walk." + +"What a tireless walker you are! But it seems to me that it's time for +us to walk to Grenoble, which is still four leagues away." + +They joined Ménard, who complimented Dubourg on his dancing. Frédéric +inquired the shortest way to Grenoble, and a young villager offered to +guide them part of the way; but Ménard did not seem capable of walking +four leagues, and even Dubourg was dismayed by the distance. The +villager suggested his farm horse, on condition that they should ride +him at a footpace. The suggestion was gratefully accepted by Dubourg and +Ménard; the latter rode behind, clinging fast to the baron. Frédéric +went on foot with their guide. + +The weather was superb, and the fields were bathed in moonlight. The +forests of fir rose majestically on their left hand, and the smith's +hammer alone broke the silence of the night. As they passed a forge, a +bright glare would efface for a moment the moon's bluish light, and cast +a reddish gleam over the landscape. The voices of the workmen blending +with the clang of the hammer inspired Dubourg to say to Ménard: + +"Do you hear the Cyclops forging Jupiter's thunderbolts?" + +And Ménard replied: + +"Not for all the gold of Peru would I venture among those people alone, +at night." + +And he dug his heels into their charger, which did not quicken its pace. +Dubourg and the tutor were a little behind the others, because the road +was very stony and the horse could make but slow progress. The guide was +a boy of twelve, ingenuous and frank like most mountaineers. + +"What is this village we are leaving?" Frédéric asked him. + +"Vizille, monsieur; it's the prettiest village round Grenoble." + +"Do you live here?" + +"Yes, monsieur; I was born here." + +"Do you know----" + +Before completing his question, Frédéric turned to see if his companions +could hear him; but they were more than fifty yards behind. Dubourg was +talking about Bretagne, and describing to Ménard how the people lived +there. Frédéric saw that he could talk with their guide without any fear +of being overheard. + +"Do you know a young girl in the village, who is called Sister Anne?" + +"Sister Anne? oh! yes, monsieur; of course I know her. She don't live +just in the village, but her cottage ain't far away. Poor Sister Anne! +who is there that don't know her, hereabouts?" + +"Why, you, too, seem to pity her? Is she so very unfortunate, pray?" + +"_Dam'_! of course I pity her; her story is very sad." + +"Do you know it?" + +"Yes, monsieur; my mother's told it to me more than once; everybody in +our village knows it." + +"Tell me the story; tell me all you know about Sister Anne; speak, my +friend, and be sure not to forget anything." + +As he spoke, Frédéric put a silver coin in the boy's hand; he was much +surprised to be paid for such a simple thing, and artlessly began his +story, of which Frédéric, walking close beside him, did not lose a +word. + + + + +X + +SISTER ANNE'S STORY + + +"Sister Anne's mother was a lady named Clotilde, who was sweet and +pretty, so they say. She belonged to a rich family, and wasn't brought +up like a peasant girl; she knew ever so much, but she and her husband +came and lived in our village. Folks said it was a love match, and that +Clotilde chose to have her lover and a cottage instead of the fine house +she could have had with another husband. + +"Clotilde and her husband lived happily for some time in our village; +they had a daughter first, little Anne, who was as pretty as her +mother--but you've seen her, haven't you, monsieur? + +"Four years after, they had another child, a boy; and they were very +glad, and the little girl never left her little brother. But, before +long, the poor things had lots of trouble: a big storm beat down their +crops, so they lost them; and poor Clotilde was taken sick. Then her +husband couldn't see any other way to support his wife and children but +to enlist. So he sold himself as a substitute, gave all the money to +Clotilde, and went away. + +"'Take good care of our poor children,' he says to her. + +"Clotilde felt so bad to have her husband go away that she couldn't do +anything for a long time, and little Anne took the whole care of her +brother, because she loved him with all her heart. Her mother used to +say to her: + +"'Take good care of your brother; perhaps he won't have anybody but you +to support him before long.' + +"A whole year passed. Clotilde's husband used to write often at first, +but all of a sudden his letters stopped. There had been a battle--for in +those days they were fighting all the time. + +"Poor Clotilde's husband was killed. The folks in the neighborhood heard +of it, but no one was brave enough to tell her; and Clotilde kept +expecting to hear from him long after he was dead. + +"Every day, the poor woman used to go to the top of a hill, where you +can see the road a long way in the direction of Grenoble; that was the +way she expected to see her husband come. She often passed whole days +sitting at the foot of a tree, looking at the road where she saw her +dear husband the last time. + +"When anybody saw Clotilde there, they'd try to comfort her by talking +about her children, but she'd say in a sad voice: + +"'Anne is with her brother; she never leaves him; she'll be a second +mother to him.' + +"You see, the little girl was only seven years old, but she surprised +the whole village by her intelligence and her loving care of her +brother. The poor little fellow didn't see anybody but her most of the +day, but he always had all he wanted. His Sister Anne dressed him, put +him to sleep, played with him, and tried to guess what he was going to +want; so her name, Sister Anne, was the first word he ever spoke, and +everybody in the village called her that, and spoke of her as a model of +sisterly affection; she has gone by that name ever since. + +"One day, Clotilde went out as usual, to go where she always used to go, +and left Sister Anne with her brother. Their mother didn't come back at +the usual time. The little boy kept on playing, but his sister kept +looking out into the fields and saying: + +"'Why don't mamma come?' + +"When the night came, Clotilde hadn't come home. If Anne had been alone, +she would have gone to the village and all around, to ask if anyone had +seen her mother. But she couldn't leave her brother; he was a treasure +that had been given to her to take care of, and she couldn't think of +leaving him for an instant. At last, the poor girl decided to put her +brother to bed, for he was only three years old and needed his sleep; +then she sat down by his bed to wait for their mother. Every minute she +suffered more and more; she couldn't help crying, and she kept saying to +herself: + +"'Why don't mamma come? O mon Dieu! she can't have deserted us!' + +"To make it all the harder for her, a terrible storm came up. The +thunder made a frightful uproar, and Sister Anne was awfully afraid of +it; so she put her head into her brother's cradle and called to her +mother to come and save them. + +"All of a sudden, there was a frightful crash that startled the whole +village. Sister Anne was dazed by it, and didn't dare to open her eyes +for some time. But when she did open them, and looked around, the +cottage was filled with thick smoke. The poor girl looked to see where +it could come from. The smoke got thicker every minute. Anne ran toward +the window, but couldn't get to it on account of the flames. The +lightning had struck the roof and set it on fire, and the two poor +children were surrounded by flames on all sides. + +"Then the girl thought of nothing but her brother; she took him out of +the cradle and ran all around the room, shrieking at the top of her +voice. But the danger was increasing all the time, and she lost her +strength; the smoke suffocated her; she tried to keep on calling, but +she couldn't. + +"Everybody in the village ran to the cottage, of course, monsieur. They +couldn't save the house, but they must save the children, anyway. They +succeeded, by taking great risks, in getting into Sister Anne's room. +They found her with her brother under their mother's bed; she was +holding him tight against her breast, trying to save him from death; but +it was no use; the poor little fellow was dead! Sister Anne had only +fainted, and they succeeded in bringing her back to life.--But just +imagine how surprised and grieved everybody was, monsieur, when they +found that the terrible shock had made her dumb!--She opened her mouth, +but could only make a sort of low, moaning noise. Since then, the poor +girl has never spoken a word!" + +"Great God!" cried Frédéric; "poor child! so that is the cause of the +melancholy expression of her lovely face!" + +"Yes, monsieur," resumed the boy; "Sister Anne is dumb; all that has +been done since then to make her able to speak hasn't done any good. The +city doctors said that the horrible fright, and her agony at seeing her +brother die and not being able to save him, had taken away the power of +speech, and that the same kind of shock might give it back to her, +perhaps, but nothing else could. But the poor little girl still had a +heart to feel her sorrow; she succeeded in making people understand all +she had suffered. For ever so many years, she mourned for her brother +and her mother; for poor Clotilde gave way to her grief the same night +that was so fatal to her children, and they found her dead on top of +the mountain, at the foot of the tree. + +"The burning of the little cottage deprived Anne of her only place of +shelter. But everybody in the village subscribed to help her; and a good +woman named Marguerite, who lives in a little cabin in the woods, near +the valley, took her in and adopted her. Marguerite was poor, too; but +with the money collected from the richest people in the village, Anne +bought a cow and a number of goats. + +"For several years, she didn't seem able to do any kind of work. She +passed her days sitting on the bank of a brook, or in the woods; she +didn't listen to what anyone said to her, and couldn't seem to do +anything but grieve for her father and mother and brother; but she got +partly over her grief in time, and now she's more calm and resigned; she +seems to appreciate what people do for her; she works like any country +girl, and shows the greatest respect for Marguerite, who is very old and +never leaves her cabin. Sister Anne is sweet and good and tender-hearted +now, as she always used to be. She even smiles sometimes, but her smile +is always sad. If she sees a little boy of her brother's age, it makes +her excited and unhappy, and her eyes fill with tears. If you've seen +her, monsieur, you know how pretty she is. She's sixteen now; even if +she can't talk, she can make herself understood; her gestures mean so +much, and her eyes speak so plain! We all understand her as easy as can +be. But, for all that, it's a great pity she can't talk; for all the +women say it would do her a lot of good." + +"Poor child!" said Frédéric; "yes, it is a great pity, indeed! How soft +and sweet her voice would be! how I would have liked to hear it! But her +misfortune makes her even more interesting in my eyes.--And you say +that she lives in the woods?" + +"Yes, monsieur; but it's easy enough to find old Marguerite's cabin. If +you take the path to the left from the one where the willows are, you'll +come to a clearing; then go down a low hill, and the cabin is in front +of you." + +"Very good, my boy; thank you." + +"But here you are at Grenoble; you don't need me any more, do you, +monsieur?" + +"No, my boy; here, take this with the other, for your trouble." + +"Thank you very much, monsieur; if you ever need anyone in the village +to help you, my name's Julien, and I'd be glad to work for you." + +"Very well; I will remember." + +The two horsemen dismounted; the young guide took their place, doffed +his cap to the travellers, and rode away at a footpace. Frédéric, musing +upon all that he had heard, walked in silence beside his two companions, +who, as they entered Grenoble, were discussing the proper way to serve a +_canard aux olives_--a discussion in which they had been engaged for +some time, Dubourg insisting upon the method in vogue in Bretagne, and +Ménard immovable in the principles he had learned from the _Cuisinier +Royal_. + +On reaching the inn, they retired to take the rest of which they stood +in need after so tiresome a day. But Frédéric could not sleep; the dumb +girl's face was constantly in his thoughts; he thought of her +misfortune, of the pathetic story he had heard, and he said to himself: + +"How dearly she loved her brother! What a loving heart! How she will +love, when love makes itself known to her! What pleasure to awaken love +in her heart! to read in her lovely eyes, which fill the place so well +of the organ she has lost!" + +This thought kept Frédéric busy all night. At daybreak, he rose, and, +leaving his companions to enjoy the repose which he could not obtain, +left the inn, ordered a horse, and galloped away toward Vizille. + + + + +XI + +A DAY IN THE WOODS + + +Love is the god who most agreeably employs our leisure; he scoffs at +distances and disarranges time. A lover is never bored, even when he is +not favored. Memories, schemes, hopes, afford constant occupation to a +loving heart. Love is the god of all countries and of all classes; he +finds his way into the humble cottage as well as into the palace. Love +is as sweet on the heather as on the softest cushions; indeed, some +persons go so far as to maintain that love is truer in the country than +in the city; it ought, at all events, to be more natural there. The +mountaineer, the woodchopper, the ploughman, may not devote his time to +the fine arts, to financial schemes, to political intrigues; but +everybody is at liberty to love, luckily for the human race. Some +author, I know not who, has said with much truth: "The happiest time of +a man's life is that which he spends paying court to his mistress." + +What a pity it is that this time is so short! It is probably to renew +their happiness that men change mistresses so often. Women do not treat +love so lightly. It is their life's history, while with us it is only a +romance. + +Frédéric soon arrived at the valley where there was dancing the night +before, and which was now as peaceful and quiet as the whole +neighborhood. A few laboring men passed, on their way to work; here and +there, a peasant could be seen in the fields. In the country, the +evening's enjoyment does not impair the morrow's toil; the good people +find their diversion in talking over the pleasures of the holiday, which +will not return for a year; but the time will pass quickly to them: they +know so well how to employ it. + +Frédéric rode toward the little, willow-lined path; there he dismounted, +tied his horse to a tree, and plunged into the woods. He looked for the +maid on the bank of the stream, but she was not at the place where he +had seen her the night before. So he went farther into the woods, +recalled what his guide had told him, and took the path to the left. +Everything was peaceful and calm; the dark foliage of the firs almost +excluded the daylight. At last he came to a clearing, descended a hill, +and saw a wretched cabin before him. The wood of which it was built had +rotted in several places, and the thatched roof threatened to fall in. +There was a small garden at the right, surrounded by a picket fence, a +part of which had fallen. + +Frédéric's heart ached at the aspect of the place, which was eloquent of +utter poverty and of a lack of the prime necessities of life. + +"And this is where she lives," he said to himself; "where she has lived, +in poverty and solitude, ever since she was seven years old! Poor child! +When your sublime self-sacrifice, when the catastrophe which resulted +from it, deserved the homage of all mankind, you had only this wretched +hut in which to weep for your brother and parents, and were fortunate +not to be left without a shelter and without bread!" + +He leaned against a tree and gazed at the cabin; his heart was so full +that he could not go forward; he could only sigh and say to himself: + +"She is there!" + +Several minutes passed. Suddenly, the door of the cabin was thrown open, +and a girl appeared in the doorway and looked out into the woods. It was +she! The depressing aspect of that wild spot, the gloomy woods, the +dilapidated cabin, all vanished! The girl's presence instantly made her +surroundings beautiful.--The woman we love wields a tremendous power; +she communicates her fascination to everything about her: by her side, +the darkest cavern causes no fear, the wildest spot on earth seems a +paradise. + +Sister Anne went back into the cabin, and soon came out again with four +goats, her whole flock. There was a cow in the little garden; she patted +her as she passed, as if promising to return soon. Then, driving her +goats toward a hillside where there was an abundance of grass, the dumb +girl walked slowly behind them, with her head bent forward, raising it +only to see that her goats did not go astray. + +Frédéric had retained his position against the tree, which concealed him +almost entirely, and watched every movement of Sister Anne. When she +went toward the hill, he followed her noiselessly; he longed to be by +her side, to speak to her; but he was afraid of startling her if he +appeared too abruptly. She seemed so shy and timid: suppose she should +run away from him again! + +But she seated herself on a green mound, and took from her little basket +a piece of bread and some figs; she was about to breakfast. Frédéric +drew nearer and nearer, until he stood close beside her; and when she +turned her head to look after one of her goats, she saw before her again +the young man of the previous evening. + +The girl made a movement which seemed to be due rather to surprise than +alarm; indeed, there was nothing about Frédéric to inspire fear; as he +stood before her, himself anxious and trembling, his glance was gentle +and timid; his whole aspect and manner bore witness to the tender +interest she aroused in him. + +As she seemed disposed to rise and go away, Frédéric said to her: + +"Do not fly from me, I entreat you, sweet girl; I should be very unhappy +if I caused you the slightest fear." + +The child smiled, and gave him to understand, by shaking her head +gently, that she had no such feeling. + +"I saw you last night by the brook," said Frédéric, walking toward her. +Sister Anne looked at him, then lowered her eyes, smiling again, as if +to say that she remembered him. + +"What! you remember me? And you, sweet girl, have not been out of my +thoughts for one moment. How could I fail to be impressed by the sight +of such lovely features and such charms of person and of manner?" + +The girl listened in surprise; all that he said was entirely strange to +her ears. He sat down on the turf, a few feet away from her. This action +seemed to surprise her still more; she looked at him again, with +something like alarm, but the sentiment expressed in his eyes soon set +her heart at rest. She looked at the ground, but it was easy to read on +her ingenuous features that she was waiting curiously for him to speak +again. + +"When I saw you yesterday, I felt the deepest interest in you. But how +that interest has grown since I learned---- Poor child! Ah! I know of +your sad plight! I know all the misfortunes that have been heaped upon +you." + +The dumb girl's features became more expressive than ever; a +heartrending memory seemed to agitate her. She groaned, raised her eyes +to heaven, then turned them on the ground once more as a flood of tears +poured from them. + +Frédéric went to her side; he put one arm lightly about her, and took +her hand, which he placed upon his heart. + +"I have revived your grief," he said; "pray forgive me. Would to heaven +that I could, on the contrary, help you to forget it by making you +happy! Poor child! let me wipe away your tears. From this moment, you +are no longer alone on earth; you have a friend, there is a heart that +beats in answer to yours, a heart that will beat for you alone, so long +as it lives. Anne, dear friend, give me leave to love you, to share your +grief, your suffering, to think constantly of you, to see you every +day--oh! do not deny me this favor, or I shall be much unhappier than +you are!" + +Frédéric spoke with great animation; love excited him and made his voice +sweeter than ever, his glance more seductive. The dumb girl listened to +him at first with surprise; an unfamiliar sentiment disturbed her; she +tried to withdraw her hand, but she had not the strength. Frédéric had +ceased to speak, and she continued to listen. + +But soon the remembrance of her condition, of her misfortune, destroyed +the spell that was upon her. She looked at Frédéric with a melancholy +expression, and, with a much bitterer glance at herself, withdrew her +hand and pushed him away, shaking her head as if to say: + +"No, you cannot love me; I am too unfortunate." + +Frédéric understood her; he put her hand to his heart again, and said, +pointing to the cabin: + +"With you, I should be happy living here in these woods." + +At that moment, they heard the sound of a little bell. It was a signal +which notified Anne that old Marguerite had risen. She hastily called +her goats together and prepared to return to the cabin. + +"Will you come back?" asked Frédéric; "oh! do let me see you again +to-day!" + +She pointed to the sun, whose beams were just beginning to shine through +the foliage, then rested her head on the back of her hand. + +"When the sun goes to rest, you will go to the brook?" + +Sister Anne made an affirmative gesture, then hastened back to the +cabin, driving her goats before her. But she turned her head before she +went in, and looked back to the place where she had left Frédéric, +smiled at him, and disappeared. That glance and smile enraptured the +young lover; he had already ceased to be a stranger to Sister Anne; that +thought filled his heart with joy. It needs so little to make one happy, +in love! + +Frédéric went back to the place where he had left his horse; but, on the +way, he asked himself whether he should go to Grenoble and return at +night. It seemed to him more natural to remain in the village, to take a +light lunch there, and then to wander about in the neighborhood of the +cabin, which, even now, he found it so hard to leave. He cared little +what his fellow travellers might think or say. They must end by +accustoming themselves to his absences, for Frédéric had a feeling that +he would come often to Vizille, or, rather, that he would rarely go to +Grenoble. She whom he loved dwelt in those woods; Sister Anne was all in +all to him; he no longer thought of the future, his station in life, or +his father's plans; he saw only her, he had no wish to live except for +her. To be sure, his love dated only from the night before, and he was +only twenty-one. + +In the village, whither he went to rest and breakfast, he talked about +Sister Anne; and everyone seemed to take pleasure in praising her +virtue, her sweet nature, her tender heart; but they generally added: + +"The poor girl is greatly to be pitied; she stands a good chance of +spending her life in that miserable hut; for what man would ever marry +an unfortunate mute?" + +Frédéric smiled and held his peace; but he was thinking that he had seen +in Paris many women resplendent with beauty, charm, and talents, and +that he preferred the dumb girl of the forest to them all. + +He found in the village such refreshment as he required; he saw that his +horse was bountifully fed; then, mounting him again, he rode back to the +woods, where he fastened him to a tree near the stream, then bent his +steps toward the lonely cabin. + +The sun had performed but half his journey; but Frédéric hoped that, if +he prowled about the little house, he might see Sister Anne, which would +make it easier for him to wait patiently until evening. + +As he approached the garden fence, which was only four feet high, he had +no difficulty in taking in at a glance the whole extent of the garden. +It was small, but they had made the most that could be made of it. +Several fruit trees, a few grapevines, vegetables, and flowers, were +growing together in that contracted space, where nature was at liberty +to follow all her caprices. + +As he looked about, Frédéric saw an old woman seated under a fig-tree. +She was evidently very old, but her venerable face was the mirror of a +calm and peaceful soul. He gazed at her for some time with profound +respect; it was she who had adopted Anne, who had filled her mother's +place. + +The good old woman's face lighted up as the dumb girl approached her, +carrying a wooden bowl filled with milk, which she placed on +Marguerite's knees. The old woman patted her cheek, saying: + +"That is nice, my girl, my dear child. Sit down here by my side. You +know how I like to look at you while I am eating." + +The girl at once sat down in front of Marguerite; she seemed to be on +the alert to anticipate her lightest wish, and more than once she raised +her withered hand and kissed it respectfully. + +Frédéric did not stir; he could have passed hours watching that picture. + +The old woman, after she had finished her meal of milk and fruit, rose, +and with Sister Anne's assistance walked two or three times about the +garden. Frédéric concealed himself when they passed, but he noticed that +the girl glanced into the woods, as if looking for someone. Could that +glance be for him! Ah! if so, how fortunate he would be! his heart dared +to conceive the hope. He was tempted to enter the garden, to throw +himself at the dumb girl's feet; but Marguerite's presence held him +back. + +At last they returned to the cabin, and Frédéric left the spot from +which he could look into the garden. He wandered about the woods for +some time. Everything brought the orphan's face before him; every tree, +every bush spoke of her. Had she not lived in those woods nine long +years? Her feet had trodden every foot of turf, and doubtless her eyes +had rested on everything that surrounded her. + +He walked slowly back to the brook, and sat down on the spot where he +had first seen Sister Anne. It might be a long while before she came. +Frédéric took his notebook and pencil from his pocket, and wrote--what? +Poetry for Sister Anne; for is not every lover a poet? and are not poets +more eloquent when they are lovers? We have the lines Tibullus wrote for +Delia; Ovid immortalized Julia; Orpheus enchanted the Shades while +seeking Eurydice; it was love that tuned Anacreon's lyre, love that +inspired Sappho; Lesbia's charms aroused Catullus's poetic ardor, and +Cynthia's imparted delicacy and passion to the flowing verses of +Propertius. Does not Petrarch owe a large part of his renown to Laura? +without her, he might have been a poet; but would he have sung of love? +To you, Eucharis and Eléonore, we owe the moving elegies of Bertin and +Parny's charming verses. + +Time passes very swiftly when we are writing poetry for her we love. +Frédéric was still leaning over his notebook and writing busily, when he +heard a faint sound; he turned his head and saw Sister Anne behind him, +watching him with deep interest. She blushed when he detected her, but +Frédéric set her mind at rest, and, bidding her sit down beside him, +read what he had written. + +Sister Anne had no idea what poetry was; but she understood Frédéric's +meaning in what he read. The heart is the key to an unsophisticated +woman's mind; the opposite is true of women of worldly training. + +The girl was already less shy and embarrassed in Frédéric's presence; at +sixteen, one is quick to make acquaintances, especially when one has no +knowledge of the customs of society or of its laws. Frédéric was so +gentle and kind and sympathetic! he pitied her, he talked of her sad +story, and the poor orphan was surprised to find that there was somebody +besides old Marguerite who was interested in her destiny. The village +people always manifested much sympathy and pity for her; but there is in +that sentiment something distressing to its object. But that was not +what she read in Frédéric's eyes. He talked to her with deep interest +and looked at her with affection, and she was already beginning to feel +less unhappy. + +But the approach of night found them still seated by the stream. They +had been there two hours, to their great surprise. Anne rose and pointed +to Frédéric's horse; then turned her eyes anxiously toward the village, +the woods, and the mountains, and lastly upon Frédéric himself. + +"I am going to Grenoble," he said; "I am staying there now with two +friends, who may be alarmed by my long absence. But I will come again +to-morrow, I will come every day. Do you think that I could pass a +single day without seeing you?" + +The girl smiled, and seemed more content; she went with him to where his +horse was waiting; he pressed her soft hand to his lips, and finally +made up his mind to return to the city. Sister Anne went to the edge of +the woods, in order to follow him with her eyes as far as the twilight +permitted. Not until she could no longer hear his horse's step, did she +return slowly to the cabin, pensive and dreamy, surprised by the +unfamiliar sensations of which she was conscious, but which she could +not understand. + + + + +XII + +HOW A MAN LOVES AT TWENTY + + +"Where in the devil have you been?" Dubourg inquired of Frédéric, who +arrived at the inn just as his two companions were sitting down to +supper. + +"I have been--riding about the neighborhood." + +"What a mania you have for travelling about the country! Are you going +to lead the same kind of life here as at Lyon?" + +"Possibly." + +"That will be amusing for us! At Lyon, we could at least vary our +amusements a little, see people----" + +"Yes, the Marquise de Versac, and others, eh?" + +"But here! why, we know the city by heart already. If one could make an +acquaintance or two, obtain an introduction to a few houses--but when a +man has no money, he doesn't dare to show his face anywhere, for it +gives one an awkward manner that betrays one at once. If it's absolutely +necessary, in every place we stop, for you to know the history of every +tree, every stone, and every view, and to pause in rapt contemplation +beside every brook, why, we shan't get to Italy for ten years! and your +life won't be long enough for you to see half of Europe." + +"I must say," observed Ménard, "that monsieur le baron's remarks seem to +me most judicious. We move about as rapidly as a tortoise, _si parva +licet componere magnis_." + +"I could forgive you for making a minute examination of Naples or +Florence; there are monuments there which one cannot contemplate too +long. Gaze in admiration at the Coliseum or the Basilica of Saint Peter +at Rome; walk on Mount Pausilippus or Vesuvius, and I shall not be +surprised; but what do you find so extraordinary in this province? It is +picturesque and romantic, I agree; but we shall find some much more +remarkable views on our journey. Wait, before going into ecstasies, +until you are on the glaciers of Mont Blanc, or on some peak of the +Apennines; and don't stand a whole day in admiration before an old +mulberry-tree overhanging a tiny stream; for there are trees, shrubbery, +turf, and fountains everywhere--except in the African desert; and we are +not going so far as that." + +"My friend," said Frédéric, with a smile, "I have found here what one +would seek in vain elsewhere; and that, to my mind, is of more value +than all the wonders of the world." + +With that, Frédéric went to his room and to bed, paying no heed to +Dubourg, who called after him: + +"For heaven's sake, tell us what you've found?--What in the devil can he +have found, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I am trying to think, monsieur le baron." + +"Gad! I wonder if it's the wallet that was stolen from me at Lyon." + +"Or your berlin, monsieur le baron." + +"My berlin! of course, that's all spent before now--that is to say, that +rascal of a postilion has probably sold it to get money for drink." + +"True, that is probable. What a pity! such a venerable carriage!" + +"But what can he have found that's so delightful?" + +"Perhaps it's a method of keeping eggs fresh on a journey." + +"Bah! as if Frédéric ever gave a thought to such things!" + +"But it would be a most valuable discovery, monsieur le baron. Somebody +gave me a receipt for it once, and also one for making milk punch, but I +was unlucky enough to lose them while moving." + +"It is plain that we shall not find out what he has found, unless he +chooses to tell us." + +"I will go and think about it while I sleep, monsieur le baron." + +"And I will go to sleep thinking about it, Monsieur Ménard." + +Early the next morning, Frédéric again set out for the village. He rode +down into the valley, left his horse in a field where the grass was as +high as his knees, and walked rapidly along the path toward the woods; +in a moment he was on the hillside with Sister Anne, who had already +driven her little flock to pasture. + +A deep flush overspread the girl's cheeks at sight of Frédéric; she +smiled, and offered him her hand with a friendly air. She had begun to +be impatient at his non-arrival; "Will he not come again?" she had said +to herself, and had kept her eyes fastened on the path from the valley. +She had known him only two days; but in a heart so affectionate and pure +as hers, love is certain to make rapid progress. Was it, then, love that +she already felt for the young stranger? Poor child! I am afraid so; and +was it not natural? was she not at an age when love blends with all our +other sentiments? and Frédéric was well adapted to inspire it. + +"I am late," he said, "for my horse did not share my impatience; dear +friend, I am so happy with you! I would like never to leave you." + +Anne gazed earnestly at him for a long while; she sighed, pointed to the +road leading to the city, then glanced at her cabin, as if to say: + +"We shall always be separated." + +"Leave that cabin, agree to come with me," cried Frédéric, eagerly; "and +we will never part." + +The girl rose with a gesture of dismay, and, pointing again to the +cabin, imitated old Marguerite's tottering steps; then shook her head +emphatically, while her eyes shone with a divine expression which said +to Frédéric: + +"No, I will never leave her." + +"Oh! forgive me; I am wrong, I can see it now; your heart cannot be +ungrateful; forgive me! love led me astray." + +The dumb girl bore him no ill-will; she returned to her seat by his +side, and a charming smile lighted up her features. Her beautiful hair, +fluttering in the wind, caressed Frédéric's face, and she laughed as she +drew it away. But he passed an arm about her waist, and held that lovely +head against his heart. His eyes exchanged tender glances with Sister +Anne's; his lips touched her cheeks, and the pretty dumb girl's sweet +breath mingled with the air he breathed; are not such moments the +sweetest in love, the happiest in life? + +They passed thus a great part of the day. Frédéric remained in the +woods, where Sister Anne brought him fruit and milk, so that he need not +go to the village. Already the girl dreaded to have him leave her. She +ran again and again to the cabin to see if Marguerite needed her; but +the good old woman slept much of the day, and Sister Anne soon ran back +to her new friend. + +Toward evening, she remained longer with her adopted mother. Meanwhile, +Frédéric went down to the stream and waited for her there, his notebook +making the time pass quickly. When the girl surprised him writing, she +heaved a profound sigh, and, looking sadly down at herself, seemed to +say: + +"I don't know anything; I never shall know anything." + +"I will be your teacher," said Frédéric, in reply to her unspoken +thoughts; "I will teach you to speak on paper." + +At nightfall, the young man left his friend, who accompanied him sadly +to his horse, and whose eyes said: + +"Until to-morrow!" + +A week passed away. Every morning at daybreak Frédéric left Grenoble, +and rode to Vizille on the first horse he found in the inn stable. He +passed the whole day with Sister Anne, and left her at nightfall. + +When he was away from the dumb girl, Frédéric barely existed, and Sister +Anne was no longer happy except when she was with him. Love had taken +possession of her heart, without any resistance from her; it had made +its appearance embellished by so many charms! why should she repel that +sentiment which made her happy? Frédéric possessed every element of +seduction; he kept telling her that he loved her and would love her all +his life; she did not for one moment doubt his oaths; she did not know +what inconstancy was. Why should he lie to her? She abandoned herself to +the joy of loving. Her mouth could utter no loving words, but her eyes +told him all that was taking place in her heart, and a single one of her +glances was equal to the most loving protestations. + +Frédéric tried to teach her to write, but love constantly interfered +with the lessons he gave her. Seated by her side, pressing her to his +heart, with full liberty to gaze at leisure on her lovely features, her +intoxicating eyes--he stopped, and forgot what he was about to show her. +She looked at him and smiled, and the lesson was forgotten. Frédéric +strained her to his heart, his passions were aroused--but one is timid +with innocence, especially when one loves sincerely. + +But the most timid passion grows bold in time; the habit of seeing each +other, of being together, of displaying their mutual affection, drew +them closer together every day. They were always alone in the forest, +and the forest is a very dangerous place for innocence. Could they long +resist their hearts, the flame that consumed them? Frédéric became +daring, and Sister Anne gave herself to him without regret, without +remorse, for it seemed natural to her to make the man happy whom she was +sure that she should love all her life. + +In the transports of passion, Frédéric determined not to leave his +sweetheart in order to go to Grenoble to sleep. The eight leagues, going +and coming, kept them apart a few moments longer, and compelled him to +leave her a few moments earlier. + +"No," he said, "I do not propose to go away from you any more, not for +an hour, not for a minute. When I cannot see you, why, I will sleep in +the woods, on the grass, near your cabin. As if I could be uncomfortable +there!" + +The lovely girl threw her arms about her lover's neck, kissed him, did a +thousand foolish things; her every gesture was eloquent of her +happiness. He would not leave her any more; therefore she would be happy +every minute. The poor child believed that it was possible. Suddenly, +as if struck by a new idea, she led Frédéric to the cabin and pointed to +a window; it was in the room where old Marguerite slept, and close +beside it was another window, in the dumb girl's room; she led Frédéric +there, laid her head on the back of her hand, drew him to her, and gazed +passionately into his face. The young man understood her; he pressed her +to his heart, and cried: + +"Yes, I will sleep with you, always by your side! Ah! how happy we shall +be!" + +Thus did the child of nature soon discover what would forward her love; +for to love ardently requires neither art nor study; the heart is the +best master. Several times, Sister Anne manifested a wish to present +Frédéric to her adopted mother; she could not understand why he avoided +her, until he said: + +"Marguerite would not leave you so entirely at liberty, if she knew that +you saw me every day; on the contrary, she would tell you that you must +avoid me and not speak to me." + +These words were enough to prevent Anne from returning to the subject. +Forbid her to see Frédéric! order her to avoid him! why, that would be +condemning her to weep all her life. She felt that she would not have +the strength to obey; so it was much better to conceal her happiness +from Marguerite. The good old woman was growing weaker every day; she +rarely left her chair, where she dozed a great part of the time; so that +it was very easy to conceal the truth from her. + +The night succeeded that day on which Frédéric had won the sweetest of +all triumphs and had known the intoxication of a genuine passion. But +the approach of darkness did not drive him forth from the woods; on the +contrary, it was to increase his happiness tenfold. + +He did not give a thought to his companions, to their anxiety about him, +or to their embarrassing position since he had all the money; he did not +remember that he had a horse belonging to the inn; he had no thought for +anything on earth but Sister Anne. Not even the memory of his father +interfered to mar his happiness. The present was all in all to him; +Sister Anne engrossed his heart and mind; he had never known a woman who +could be compared with her. Could he find elsewhere in the world so much +beauty, grace, innocence, and love? Her misfortune made her even dearer +to him. Frédéric was very romantic, and he did not look upon love so +lightly as most young men of his years; so that his conduct should +appear less extraordinary to us. And then, too, the dumb girl was so +pretty! In the first transports of love, a cabin, a forest, a desert, is +what all lovers desire; but this intoxication is of short duration. Will +Frédéric be more constant? + +In the path by the stream, where they sat together so often, he waited +until old Marguerite should fall asleep. Then Sister Anne was to steal +out of the cabin and come for her lover. + +Frédéric tied his horse to an old ruined hovel, where a woodcutter had +once lived, and which he used as a stable. + +The moon was shining brightly; it was reflected in the limpid water of +the brook and made the sparse clearings in the wood as light as day. +Frédéric listened intently for his sweetheart's footstep! The time +seemed very long; every minute robbed love of a sigh. He tried to look +beneath the black firs and distinguish the cabin. At last he heard a +faint sound: it was she. He could not see her, but his heart told him +that she was near. As light of foot as a fawn, as swift as the hunter's +arrow, as beautiful as happiness, the dumb girl sped through the paths +of that forest, whose every corner she knew. In an instant, she was +beside her lover, who kissed her on the forehead and could not forbear +to gaze long and lovingly at her. He was proud of his good fortune; the +time and place, the joy that shone on her features, the mystery that +surrounded them--all seemed to make Sister Anne lovelier than ever. Her +hair, carelessly caught up so that a part of it played about her neck; +her shapely figure, which a light gown veiled without concealing; and +her eyes, so sweet and so overflowing with love, renewed Frédéric's +transports. + +"Come, come," he said; "lead me!" + +The girl took his arm and led him through the dense woods. They soon +reached and entered the humble cabin, which had become in his eyes the +most delicious retreat. He shared Sister Anne's bed; how could he envy +those who sleep in palaces? Happy lovers! let us leave them to enjoy +their happiness. + + + + +XIII + +DUBOURG PLAYS THE GRAND SEIGNEUR ONCE MORE.--NEW ACQUAINTANCES + + +On the day following Frédéric's first absence, Monsieur Ménard, having +risen early, burst into Dubourg's chamber, crying with a triumphant air: + +"I have found it, monsieur le baron; I am certain that I have found it." + +"Found what?" said Dubourg, who was just awake; "your receipt for +keeping eggs fresh?" + +"No; but what it was that charmed monsieur le comte so yesterday; that +wonderful place where he passed the day." + +"Bah! you say you know where he was?" + +"Yes! I would stake my head on it!" + +"Tell me, then." + +"It was the Château de Bayard, which must be in this neighborhood, in +the valley of Grésivaudan." + +"The Château de Bayard? Faith! it's quite possible; however, we'll ask +him at breakfast." + +But Frédéric did not appear at breakfast. Dubourg summoned one of the +servants. + +"Has our companion gone away already?" + +"Yes, monsieur, at daybreak; he took the first horse that was ready, and +went off at a gallop." + +"Gone again! and left us here, perhaps for the whole day!" + +"I am convinced that it's the Château de Bayard that has turned his +head." + +"Hum! I'm very much afraid myself that it's some more modern marvel. +However, as we have nothing better to do, let's go and see the ruins of +this château, and we can look for Frédéric there; what do you say, +Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I agree with you perfectly, monsieur le baron; but perhaps we shall do +well to carry a pâté or a chicken, for we probably shall not be able to +get a dinner at the château." + +"You speak like the grammar, Monsieur Ménard; we will provide ourselves +with supplies; it may not be very chivalrous, but it is prudent. +Besides, we are travelling as amateur troubadours simply; and, however +beautiful a view may be, however imposing a ruin, we belong to that +class of small-minded mortals who must dine every day. Ah! Monsieur +Ménard, we are not romantic! It was very lucky for us that we were not +born in the days of Amadis and the four sons of Aymon." + +"Faith! that is true, monsieur le baron; for they didn't know how to +truffle a chicken in those days, or cook _filets de sole au gratin_." + +Dubourg inquired the way to the valley of Grésivaudan, Monsieur Ménard +filled his pockets with provisions, and our travellers set forth. They +were told that it was a short three leagues to the Château de Bayard; +but Ménard suggested a halt every half-hour. The baron invariably +complied, and produced a bottle of the best wine he had been able to +find at their inn; Ménard spread his provisions on the turf, on a large +sheet of paper, and the travellers renewed their strength. When Dubourg +caught sight of some tempting fruit, he would climb the tree to obtain +some for dessert; and finally he cut a number of branches and, by +spreading his handkerchief over them, constructed a little tent, so +that they could dine in the shade. + +"One would hardly suspect that the man who does this is a noble +palatine!" cried Ménard. + +"Why not, pray?" rejoined Dubourg; "the Princess Nausicaa made her own +lye; Augustus's daughters spun their father's robes; Dionysius the +Younger was a school teacher at Corinth; the son of Perseus, King of +Macedonia, was a carpenter at Rome, as Peter the Great was in Holland; +so it doesn't seem to me that I derogate from my rank by making a tent +in Dauphiné." + +Monsieur Ménard, having nothing to reply, simply bowed, murmuring: + +"_Variant sententiæ._" + +At last, our two travellers discovered the ruins of the Château de +Bayard, of which only the four towers remain standing; but they did not +find Frédéric gazing in veneration upon them. + +"Well, do you see him, Monsieur Ménard?" said Dubourg. + +"The château?" + +"No; Frédéric." + +"Not yet, monsieur le baron; but let us sit down and rest; unluckily, I +am afraid that this is the last halt that will refresh us much, as our +provisions are near the end, and we have only a quarter of a bottle +left." + +"We shall find plenty of springs, Monsieur Ménard." + +"But they won't be like those of Cana in Galilee, monsieur le baron." + +"Meanwhile, let's finish the bottle and this chicken. We are very well +placed here to enjoy the landscape. This is a charming valley. See, +Monsieur Ménard, what a picturesque effect these mountains make on our +right; they're covered with snow, and that reminds me of Mount Krapach. +See, the snow never melts up there." + +"I see, monsieur le baron, that this is our last wing; and I shudder to +think of the walk back." + +"We'll go into some house--or a mill; there are plenty of those in this +region." + +"Do you mean that you have any money, monsieur le baron?" + +"Not a sou; and you?" + +"No more." + +"The devil! this becomes embarrassing. Think of Frédéric carrying the +cash-box off with him, and leaving us in the lurch, without stopping to +think what will become of us! I am aware that we may live on at the inn, +where we have an open account; but it isn't pleasant to be tied down to +an inn while my gentleman is travelling about the country." + +"One thing is certain, monsieur le baron, and that is that walking gives +one an appetite." + +"Morbleu! I am beginning to find this travelling decidedly monotonous; +and if I wasn't afraid of my creditors----" + +"Your creditors, monsieur le baron?" + +"I mean, if I hadn't the creditors of my government to settle with--that +is to say, if---- But, hush! I see somebody--probably people who have +come to inspect these ruins. They must live in the neighborhood, for +they don't look as if they had taken a long walk." + +Ménard looked up and saw a man and woman at their left, walking slowly +toward the château. The tutor hastily thrust the bottle and napkin into +his pocket, then he rose and joined Dubourg, who was walking toward the +new arrivals with a graceful swagger which reminded Ménard of their +promenades in the streets of Lyon. + +"It seems that monsieur le baron proposes to lay aside his incognito +again," he said to himself. Whereupon, he straightened the ends of his +ruff and assumed a more dignified bearing. + +Dubourg had replaced by a very simple round hat the shabby tile which +had been left for him at the false Marquise de Versac's, but he had +retained the little silver tassels on his boots; above all, he had +retained the power to impart to his features an expression befitting the +part he proposed to play. When he approached the couple examining the +ruins, one would have judged from his manners, his voice, his language, +and the way in which he looked about, that he was some foreign nobleman. + +The gentleman and lady whom Dubourg seemed disposed to join were dressed +in a style that indicated comfortable circumstances, but which smelt of +the province and of a decided tendency to ostentation. The gentleman, +who seemed to be about fifty years old, wore his hair powdered, and +carried his hat in his hand in order not to disarrange his carefully +curled locks; he had a black coat and trousers, and boots with tops +which fell below the calf; he carried a cane, with which he pointed out +the various objects of interest to his companion; and one could read on +his face extreme self-satisfaction and contentment, heightened by an +important air which, doubtless, he felt in duty bound to maintain. + +The lady on his arm was at least forty years old. She had evidently been +comely in the past, but she made the mistake of trying to appear only +twenty; for, despite her mincing manners, her infantile speech, the +curls behind her ear, and those that peeped out from beneath her hat, +and a manner which she strove to render giddy and kittenish, one could +readily see that she had passed her majority. + +Dubourg walked toward the château, apparently without noticing the +strangers further than to bow to them; he made a pretence of continuing +his conversation with Ménard, speaking so loudly that he could be heard +at some distance. + +"This château reminds me of my grandfather's in the neighborhood of +Sandomir. You know, my dear Ménard, the one where we endured such a long +and bloody siege?" + +Ménard opened his eyes as he met Dubourg's, but he instantly replied: + +"Yes, monsieur le baron, I know." + +"That tower yonder," continued Dubourg, "is very like the one on the +western side of my castle of Krapach. I can imagine that I am still in +the room where the Prince of Bulgaria slept, when he came to break bread +with my father. Ah! my dear Ménard, I hope soon to give you some of that +famous tokay I have told you of." + +"Tekely's tokay, monsieur le baron?" + +"The same; it has been a hundred and twenty-four years in bottle!" + +The gentleman and lady heard every word spoken by Dubourg, who kept on +toward the château, pretending to examine it, but taking care not to go +too far away from them. + +While Dubourg was speaking, the gentleman listened intently; his face +soon assumed an expression of respectful consideration; he nudged his +wife,--for his companion was his wife,--and, pointing to Dubourg, +motioned to her to walk a little faster to overtake the illustrious +foreigner. + +At the foot of one of the towers, they found themselves in close +proximity to our two travellers, who were just about to enter the ruins. +Dubourg stopped, to allow the lady to go first; her husband paid him the +same attention, and even bowed low to Ménard. These ceremonies duly +performed, they entered into conversation. + +"Does monsieur visit our country as an observer?" the husband asked +Dubourg. + +"Yes, monsieur; I am travelling--for my pleasure--with a friend of mine, +the Comte de Montreville, of whom you may have heard, and Monsieur +Ménard, a distinguished professor of literature and a Hellenist of the +first order, who improvises poetry like an angel--especially at +dessert." + +The gentleman bowed to Ménard, who looked like an idiot when Dubourg +said that he improvised readily, but he was very careful not to +contradict him, none the less. + +"Do you live in this province, monsieur?" queried Dubourg. + +"Yes, monsieur," the lady replied, with a gracious smile. "We live two +leagues and a half from here, at Allevard, where my husband bought a +superb estate when he retired from the wine trade." + +At this point, the gentleman nudged his wife, but she continued, +apparently without noticing the hint: + +"A trade we carried on for our pleasure, for my husband has always had a +very handsome fortune; but one must do something." + +"What do you say, madame? For my own part, I have a great esteem for +trade, especially the wine trade. Certainly Noah didn't plant the vine +with the idea that we should eat nothing but dried grapes. Gideon, a +Hebrew captain, threshed his own grain, Saul was a cowherd, David a +shepherd, Cincinnatus ploughed his own fields, Pope Sixtus V kept pigs, +and Urban IV was once a cobbler; so I can see nothing surprising in the +fact that your husband once sold wine." + +"Surely not, monsieur," said the husband, bowing low to Dubourg.--"He's +a noble philosopher," he whispered to his wife. + +"But since we retired," continued the lady, "we associate with only the +best people in the province: the mayor and his clerk, and landowners who +are electors--aristocratic people. We lead a delightful life; my husband +is almost the lord of the district." + +"I certainly am looked upon in that light," added the husband, leaning +on his cane. "It was in my power to be sub-prefect; but I should have +had to move, and I am attached to my present home. We are so highly +considered there! I entertain all the best people at dinner; we +cultivate music and the arts--I am learning the violin just now; I have +had a cabinet organ sent from Paris. My wife will play it; she has a +fine ear." + +"Pardieu!" said Dubourg; "talking of ear, Monsieur Ménard here has one +of the finest bassos I know? As for myself, I play all instruments." + +"Ah! monsieur," said the lady, with a smirk, "what a pleasure it would +be to hear you! We have lots of amateur musicians at Allevard: monsieur +le maire plays the bass-viol, and one of our neighbors is very strong on +the hunting-horn. If monsieur should remain any length of time in this +vicinity, we should be charmed to entertain him." + +This invitation was accompanied by a very tender smile; Dubourg replied +with an expressive glance, and the husband, well pleased, meekly lowered +his eyes, while Ménard looked at his companion to find out what he was +to say. + +"Faith! madame," rejoined Dubourg, after their exchange of glances had +lasted for some minutes, during which the husband contemplated the +swallows, "it may be that my friends and I will remain some time at +Grenoble. Monsieur le Comte de Montreville has a very pronounced liking +for the banks of the Isère, and I am too fond of him to go away without +him. We are like Orestes and Pylades, except that we are never seen +together; and although we are expected at the court of Sardinia, and I +have promised to pass the winter at the court of Bulgaria, it is +possible, as I say, that our sojourn in this province may be prolonged +for some time;--isn't that so, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I think as you do, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; whereupon the lady +whispered to her husband: + +"How affable he is for a baron!" + +And the husband replied: + +"He is affable just because he is a baron." + +"Especially," continued Ménard, who had assumed a more important air +since he had learned that their new acquaintance was a former dealer in +wines, "especially as Monsieur le Comte de Montreville, my pupil, is of +an exceedingly romantic turn." + +"Ah! he is like me! he is just like me!" said the lady, with a sigh +addressed to Dubourg; "I care for nothing but the romantic. I am mad +over ghosts and elves--am I not, Monsieur Chambertin?" + +"Yes, my wife has always been very fond of spirits," Monsieur Chambertin +replied, with a smile. + +"She had no lack of them with you," rejoined Dubourg. + +"True, I had them all the way from twenty-four degrees to seventy." + +"If madame should ever come to Poland," said Dubourg, "I trust that she +will not fail to pass a few days at my castle of Krapach. She will see +phantoms of all colors there; it's not so cheerful a place of residence +as my castle at Cracow, but I would not part with it for two millions! +And yet, it brings me nothing but snow; but I have my reasons for being +attached to it--eh, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"Peste! I should say so! a castle where you have entertained----" + +"Hush, be still, Ménard; that doesn't interest Monsieur and Madame +Chambertin." + +"I beg your pardon," said Chambertin, bowing once more; "we are too +flattered to make the acquaintance of a Polish nobleman--for I think +that monsieur le baron is a Pole?" + +"From my birth," replied Dubourg, turning his head away so that Ménard +might have an opportunity to say to them in an undertone: + +"Monsieur le Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir." + +When he heard those titles, the former wine merchant was like one +stupefied; he dared not take a step forward or back, while Madame +Chambertin twisted her mouth in every conceivable way, and did her +utmost to do away with it altogether, in order to seduce the Palatine of +Rava. + +"Did you come here to see the ruins?" queried Dubourg, after giving his +name and titles time to produce their due effect. + +"Yes," replied Monsieur Chambertin; "we have not seen them yet, and one +should be acquainted with his neighborhood. This Bayard must have had a +very fine château, to judge by what is left of it; but he was a very +good sort of man." + +"He was a chevalier, wasn't he, my dear?" said Madame Chambertin, in a +mincing tone. + +"Yes, my love; a chevalier of the time of Louis XIV." + +At that, Monsieur Ménard coughed and glanced slyly at Dubourg. + +"I like to see antiquities," continued Chambertin, "ancient monuments; +they're interesting when one has a certain amount of education. Is +monsieur le baron here for the same purpose?" + +"Faith! we were in a decidedly bad humor when we met you," said Dubourg; +"we walked here from Grenoble, as we were told that it was a short three +leagues, and I didn't care to wear out my horses in this mountainous +country; but I hoped to find some decent inn hereabout, where we could +dine; or at least some means of getting to the nearest village; I +offered some peasants as much as six gold pieces to obtain a horse for +me, and not one of the knaves moved.--Isn't that so, Ménard?" + +"It is quite true, monsieur le baron, that we couldn't find anything at +all." + +"Ah! my dear," whispered Madame Chambertin to her husband, "what a happy +idea! what a chance!" + +"I will seize it!" he replied; and he planted himself in front of +Dubourg, with his feet in the third position.--"Monsieur le baron, if I +wasn't afraid of presuming too far, if you would deign to accept a plain +country gentleman's dinner, Madame Chambertin and I would be overjoyed +to have at our table a distinguished nobleman and a professor of +literature. My cabriolet is waiting for us close by, with Lunel, my +jockey; we shall be at Allevard in an hour, and my cabriolet will take +monsieur le baron to Grenoble this evening." + +"Really, Monsieur de Chambertin, you are too kind," replied Dubourg, +with a bow. + +"He called me _De_ Chambertin!" said the ex-tradesman to his wife. + +"I heard him." + +"Do you suppose he means to make me a knight?" + +"I believe he's quite capable of making you something." + +"I am almost tempted to accept your invitation," said Dubourg; "it will +afford me the pleasure of becoming better acquainted with some most +delightful people.--What do you say, my dear Ménard? Will it make +Montreville anxious? Do you think that we might accept Monsieur de +Chambertin's invitation to dinner?" + +"Yes, certainly we may, monsieur le baron," replied Ménard, who was so +excited by the prospect that he took from his pocket the paper napkin in +which the carcass of the chicken was wrapped, and wiped his face with +it, thinking that it was his handkerchief, and oblivious to the fact +that he was besmearing himself with chicken jelly; but Monsieur and +Madame Chambertin were in the seventh heaven and saw nothing of all +that. To take home with them to dinner a great Polish nobleman, a +palatine! who had put a _de_ before monsieur's name, and who made eyes +at madame--that was quite enough to turn their heads. + +"The cabriolet will never hold four," said madame. + +"Don't be alarmed, my dear; I will take Lunel's pony, and he will ride +behind. Whenever monsieur le baron chooses----" + +"Faith! let us go," said Dubourg; and he added in an undertone, as he +offered the lady his hand: "All the ruins in the world could not prevail +against you!" + +They left the château, Dubourg with Madame Chambertin on his arm, while +her husband ran ahead, and Ménard followed, trying to discover the +source of the smell of chicken which pursued him everywhere. + +At a turn in the path, they discovered the cabriolet, in charge of a +little man of about his master's years, who looked more like a butler +than a jockey; beside him was an animal which, judging from its size and +ears, was halfway between a horse and an ass. Madame Chambertin entered +the carriage with her two guests. + +"Give me your nag, Lunel," said Monsieur Chambertin. + +"And what am I to do, monsieur?" + +"Get up behind the carriage." + +"You know very well, monsieur, that I can't hold on there." + +"Then you shall walk. The idiot! not to have learned yet to hold on +behind a carriage!" + +As he spoke, Monsieur Chambertin mounted the beast, and belabored him +with his cane in default of a crop. + +"Excuse me, if I ride ahead," he called to Dubourg; "but I have some +orders to give." + +"Oh! no ceremony for us, I beg you, Monsieur de Chambertin!" was the +reply. + +But the host was already far away; when he heard himself called _De_ +Chambertin again, he took the bit in his teeth. + +Dubourg took the reins and drove, which did not prevent him from making +many very gallant speeches to Madame Chambertin en route, or from +motioning to Ménard to wipe his face. Lunel ran behind the cabriolet, +consigning to the devil the strangers who were responsible for his +master's taking his nag. + +In due time they arrived at Allevard, a pretty village, through which +flowed a mountain stream of considerable size that furnished power for a +large number of windmills, iron foundries, and factories. Monsieur +Chambertin's estate was on the right, just at the entrance to the +village; it was a beautiful house, built according to modern ideas, and, +as Madame Chambertin said, almost a château. + +As they drove into a spacious courtyard shaded by tall lindens, Dubourg +secretly felicitated himself on the chance meeting, and began to think +that Madame Chambertin still possessed a very attractive figure and very +bright eyes. As for Ménard, he had visions of a well-furnished kitchen, +and he concluded that a man who owned such a charming estate deserved +some consideration, although he was neither baron nor palatine. + +Madame Chambertin escorted the strangers into a pretty salon on the +ground floor, which looked on a beautiful garden behind the house. +Everything indicated wealth, profusion, and absence of taste. There were +two clocks on the mantel, another on a console, a fourth on a desk. The +furniture was costly, the floor covered with rich rugs, the walls +overloaded with pictures, and three chandeliers hung from the ceiling. + +"This is my small summer salon," said Madame Chambertin, modestly. "If I +had known that I was to have the honor of entertaining monsieur le +baron, I would have had my large winter salon thrown open, where three +sets can dance a quadrille without interfering with one another." + +"We have more room than we need, madame; and I should be very sorry to +cause you any inconvenience; this salon is perfectly charming; +everything here shows the touch of the goddess of this blest abode." + +"Ah! monsieur le baron--to be sure, I did arrange it. My husband wanted +to put another clock in this corner, but he can do without it." + +"It would be very difficult not to know what time it is here." + +"This is rather a tasty rug, don't you think? I have a still finer one +in my winter salon. You must use them a great deal in Poland, monsieur +le baron?" + +"Oh! we have carpets six inches thick in Poland; you sink into them as +you walk, just as you do into a feather-bed. I hope to have the honor of +sending you a specimen." + +"Oh! monsieur le baron!" + +At that moment, Monsieur Chambertin appeared, with such guests as he had +been able to collect in a hurry, to dine with a great noble at his +table. He had found only four persons at liberty: a former village +notary and his wife, who were just about to sit down to their own +repast, when their neighbor rushed in, greatly excited, and told them of +the acquaintances he had made, and that he was to have the honor of +entertaining at his house the noble foreigner and the professor of +belles-lettres. + +At that news, followed by an invitation to dine with the great man, +Monsieur Bidault--such was the ex-notary's name--summoned his maid, and +said: + +"Clear the table, Marianne; put the pâté in the sideboard, the chicken +in the pantry, and the fish in the cellar, and keep them all for +to-morrow; we dine with my neighbor." + +And Madame Bidault ran to her mirror, crying: + +"Quick, Marianne! my gown with orange blossoms, my straw hat, my lace +collerette; I can't appear in négligé before those gentlemen.--Aren't +you going to dress, Monsieur Bidault?" + +"Oh! I'll just put on my nut-brown coat, that's all.--Be sure that the +fish is kept where it's cool, Marianne." + +"Marianne, do fetch my dress." + +Monsieur Chambertin hurried away to seek other guests, urging Monsieur +and Madame Bidault not to be late. Poor Marianne, harried on every side, +did not know which way to turn: she carried the straw hat to the cellar, +and ran to her mistress with the platter of fish in her hand. At last, +after twenty minutes of running hither and thither, the husband and wife +were in condition to appear before the illustrious stranger. Monsieur +Bidault, who had taken to writing poetry since he gave up his office, +looked forward with pleasure to a discussion of the poetic art with the +man of letters; and Madame Bidault, who prided herself upon having more +style than anyone else in the neighborhood, was enchanted to exhibit her +_savoir vivre_ before a grand seigneur. + +On leaving the Bidaults, Monsieur Chambertin went to the mayor's; but +the mayor was in the fields overlooking his laborers, and would not +return till evening. Then he hurried to the notary, Bidault's successor; +but the notary was hunting, and his wife was in the midst of making +preserves, which she could not leave. + +But the time was getting short, so Chambertin had recourse to an +ex-apothecary of Lyon, who had retired from business and bought a +pleasant little house at Allevard. He was not a very distinguished +individual to place before a palatine; but as there was no time to +choose, he had to be content with what he could get; besides, Monsieur +Fondant talked very little, so he was not likely to say foolish things. + +So Chambertin burst in upon him, and, having no time to explain himself +at length, said hurriedly: + +"My dear Fondant, I have a noble palatine, from Poland, at my house; +he's going to dine with me; I want you, come! and a man of letters, +who's a Hellenist incognito. Make haste! they are distinguished men of +the first rank; we dine in half an hour." + +And he was gone. He thought that he might perhaps get his friend +Frossard, the ironmaster, one of the richest landholders of the +neighborhood. He hurried to his house and found him in the act of +dining; he had already eaten his soup and beef, when Chambertin entered +the dining-room, bathed in perspiration, and called to him from the +doorway: + +"Stop, Frossard, stop! not another mouthful!" + +"What does this mean?" rejoined the ironmaster, holding his long knife +in the air over a fat chicken he was preparing to carve; "not another +mouthful! I fully expect to have a word to say to the thighs and wings; +I won't leave anything but the carcass." + +"Stop, I tell you, my friend! you must come to dine with me." + +"Not to-day; it's too late, as you see." + +"You must." + +"I have eaten a third of my dinner already." + +"That won't make any difference." + +"I am very much afraid it will." + +"I have two noblemen to dine with me, one a literary man." + +"What do I care?" + +"From Poland--Cracow--a baron--a scholar!" + +"Well, what of it? that's no reason why I shouldn't eat my dinner." + +"I want you to have the honor of dining with them." + +"So long as I have a good dinner, my dear man, it matters little to me +whether I dine with a baron or a miller." + +"Come, come, Frossard, my friend, have a little more elevation in your +ideas." + +"My chicken is getting cold." + +"You shall have some delicious hare _piqué_ at my house; I also have a +certain pâté de foie gras, which has just been sent to me from +Strasbourg." + +"Ah! the traitor will succeed in tempting me." + +"We will have some of my old pomard, and some of that Saint-Péray you're +so fond of." + +"It is impossible to resist you." + +"Will you come?" + +"Yes; but not for your noblemen and your scholars; I don't know anything +about them. I'll come for the hare and the pomard, which I know all +about." + +Monsieur Fondant was the first to arrive; but, being naturally timid, +and more embarrassed than usual at the thought of appearing before two +strangers, whom he supposed to be princes from the few words his +neighbor had let fall, the ex-apothecary remained in the reception-room +adjoining the salon where Madame Chambertin was talking with her guests; +lacking courage to present himself alone, he waited for the other guests +to arrive, so that he might steal in behind them. + +Monsieur and Madame Bidault came at last, and so did the corpulent +Frossard. Monsieur Chambertin, who had been giving orders to his cook, +hurried forward to greet his guests. He found Monsieur Fondant in the +reception-room, and, throwing open the door of the salon, presented +Madame Bidault to monsieur le baron. During the exchange of salutations +between the ex-notary and his wife and our two travellers, Frossard, who +did not stand so much on ceremony, pushed Fondant, who seemed inclined +to remain in the reception-room, before him; and Madame Chambertin, +having made her company welcome, disappeared to give a moment's +attention to her toilet. + +"Monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I have got together a few +friends, who, like myself, are overjoyed to have----" + +"Faith! my dear man," said Frossard, dropping into an easy-chair, and +interrupting his host without ceremony, "you came just in time; if I had +put my knife into the chicken, I wouldn't have left it." + +"That dear Frossard must have his joke," said Monsieur Bidault, slapping +the ironmaster's leg, while his better half sat very stiffly in a chair +facing Dubourg, who, half reclining on a couch, resembled a sultan +passing his slaves in review; while Ménard, at a little distance, +admired the ironmaster's appearance of robust health and the respectful +bearing of Monsieur Fondant, who had seated himself near a window so as +to be almost hidden by the curtain. + +"If I had known earlier that I was to entertain monsieur le baron," said +Chambertin, "I would have arranged a little soirée musicale--a little +party; but I flatter myself that I shall be better prepared another +time." + +"You confuse me, Monsieur de Chambertin. Really, I shall not be able to +leave this part of the country; and yet we are expected at the court of +Bulgaria--as you know, Monsieur Ménard." + +At these words, Madame Bidault drew herself up and pressed her lips +together; Chambertin glanced at his neighbors with an expression that +said: "What did I tell you?" while Monsieur Fondant disappeared +altogether behind the hangings. + +"In truth," continued Dubourg, "I am much pleased with this +neighborhood, and the delightful people I meet here make it even more +attractive." + +At that compliment, everybody rose and bowed; a similar manoeuvre was +executed behind the curtains. + +"But I thought that I saw Monsieur Fondant," said the ironmaster; "what +in the deuce has become of him?" + +"I am here, monsieur," said the ex-apothecary, in a hoarse voice, +showing his face from behind the curtains. + +"What are you doing there, a mile away from us all? Come out here, +Monsieur Fondant. What's the news from Lyon? what do you hear there?" + +Monsieur Fondant blushed to the ears, for he saw that the strangers were +looking at him. He drew his handkerchief, blew his nose, moved his chair +forward and back, and stammered at last, speaking through his nose to +give himself confidence: + +"How hot it is to-day!" + +Luckily, Madame Chambertin returned, and her presence gave a different +turn to the conversation. She had put on a thin muslin waist, trimmed +with lace; she wore no hair other than her own, which was not very +becoming, but she had donned her diamond ear-rings and a superb pearl +necklace, which made her very seductive in the eyes of Dubourg, who went +to meet her, and, as he offered her his hand, tenderly squeezed the ends +of her fingers; to which she replied by a half-smile accompanied by a +stifled sigh. + +Monsieur Bidault had joined Ménard, whom he judged to be the man of +letters, and repeated divers sentences from the _Perfect Notary_, +accompanied by verses from the _Almanach des Muses_. Ménard, who, in his +endeavor to copy Dubourg, sometimes assumed his self-sufficient tone, +smiled patronizingly at Monsieur Bidault as he replied emphatically: +"_Studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant_;" and Monsieur +Bidault, who had forgotten Cicero when he was learning the Codes, +replied by offering him a pinch of snuff. + +Lunel, who had donned a short English jacket, in which he resembled a +Limousin, announced that dinner was served. + +Everybody rose; Dubourg offered his hand to Madame Chambertin, Frossard +to Madame Bidault, and the others followed, Monsieur Fondant bringing up +the rear. + +They passed into a very handsome dining-room, where a sumptuous feast +was spread. Ménard observed with satisfaction that there were four +_hors-d'oeuvre_, which always indicates a well-arranged dinner. +Monsieur le baron was seated between Madame Bidault and Madame +Chambertin; but his face was generally turned toward the latter, and the +deep flush which from time to time overspread the cheeks of the hostess +might have raised a presumption that her illustrious guest was talking +to her under the table as well. + +Ménard was between Messieurs Bidault and Fondant, the former of whom +interlarded his conversation with insipid rhymes, while the other +contented himself with filling his neighbor's glass. Ménard turned +toward the ex-apothecary more frequently than toward the ex-notary. + +At the second course, Dubourg, beginning to be convivially inclined, for +he had done full honor to his host's pomard, began to talk recklessly +about his châteaux, his vast estates, Poland and Bretagne; he confounded +the customs of Rennes with those of Cracow, and the products of his +native province with the snowstorms on the Krapach Mountains. But the +company, listening with rapt attention to what he said, simply opened +their eyes and ears the wider. The corpulent Frossard had a fellow +feeling for the baron because he drank his wine without water, and +looked upon Ménard as a scholar of distinction because he discoursed +learnedly upon the method of cooking every dish. Monsieur Bidault was +delighted to have an opportunity of displaying his poetic talent; his +wife considered herself a beauty because Dubourg told her that she had a +look of Mademoiselle de Scudéri. Monsieur Fondant was more at his ease +because nobody paid any attention to him. Monsieur Chambertin was in +ecstasy because he had a nobleman at his table; and Madame Chambertin +rolled her eyes because the aforesaid nobleman frequently touched her +knee with his under the table. + +About nine o'clock in the evening, they made an effort to adjourn to the +salon. Everybody had striven to hold his own with monsieur le baron, +some from love of drinking, others for courtesy's sake, so that no one +was quite firm on his legs; the ladies alone were able to stand erect, +for they rarely lose their heads at table. + +Amid the Bacchic fumes, Dubourg retained sufficient presence of mind to +realize that they were six leagues from Grenoble, and that it was time +to return thither. Monsieur Chambertin proposed to keep them overnight; +but if they remained, they must do what the others did; Monsieur Bidault +and the ironmaster had already taken a pack of cards, and Dubourg, who +found it difficult to resist the attraction of the gaming-table, felt +that he would cut a very foolish figure with no money in his pocket. +The better plan, therefore, was to go, and come again. Monsieur Frossard +challenged him to a game at backgammon in the near future, and Dubourg, +who considered himself very strong at that game, hoped to recoup a part +of his losses at the hands of the blacklegs at Lyon. + +Ménard was so comfortable at Monsieur Chambertin's that he would have +been glad to sleep there, and Madame Chambertin, who may have had some +hidden purpose, tried to detain the young palatine. But he had his +reasons for not yielding; and, seeing that his persuasions were of no +avail, Monsieur Chambertin ordered Lunel to be ready with the cabriolet +to drive monsieur le baron and his friend to Grenoble. + +Dubourg took leave of his hosts, promising to return very soon and pass +several days with them. This promise allayed their regret at his +departure. + +"Remember, monsieur le baron, that I rely on your word," said Monsieur +Chambertin, with a low bow. + +"We shall expect you," added madame, with a glance that said all that +was necessary. + +Dubourg replied by placing his foot on her husband's foot, which he +mistook for hers, and cordially shook hands with his host, calling him +his dear friend De Chambertin. + +Lunel and the cabriolet were waiting; Dubourg and Ménard took their +seats and started for Grenoble. + +The swaying of the carriage soon put Ménard to sleep; and Dubourg, +having no one else to talk to, communed with himself: + +"This acquaintance will be very agreeable to me, and will vary the +monotony of our stay at Grenoble. Those excellent people think I am a +nobleman; there's no great harm in that, and it may well be that I have +the air of one. Madame Chambertin still has a vivacious glance; her +husband has excellent wine and an excellent table. That big ironmaster's +as rich as Croesus, and it seems that he likes a little game. Morbleu! +if only I was still cashier! what a chance to repair our losses! I am +sure that he hasn't an idea of backgammon. Such a man as that wouldn't +notice a loss of five or six thousand francs. And Frédéric goes off and +leaves us without a sou; passes his time no one knows where. I simply +must find out what he does every day; I must watch over him, as poor +Ménard here doesn't dare to say a word to him. A fine guardian monsieur +le comte sent with him!" + +It was very late when they reached Grenoble. Ménard woke up to alight +from the carriage. When Dubourg saw old Lunel before him, hat in hand, +he instinctively felt in his pockets; but finding nothing in any of +them, he put his hand under Lunel's chin and patted his cheek, saying: + +"All right, Lunel; good-night, my fine fellow! I am content with you." + +Whereupon the old groom turned on his heel, and muttered all the way +home: + +"That was a fine _pourboire_ the Pole gave me!" + + + + +XIV + +A VISIT TO THE FOREST + + +When Dubourg and Ménard woke on the morning after their dinner at +Allevard, Frédéric had been gone a long while. + +"We will wait till to-night," said Dubourg, "and then we will speak to +him." + +"Yes, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; "you will speak to him." + +But we have seen that Frédéric remained with Sister Anne very late every +day, until he had decided to remain with her altogether. It was four +leagues from Grenoble to Vizille; the horse Frédéric took in the +morning, at random, went but little better in the evening, although he +had rested all day; for inn horses are rarely good saddle horses. So +that the beast sometimes took three hours to return from Vizille; and +Frédéric did not urge him, for he was not then on his way to Sister +Anne. + +So that he returned very late, and Dubourg, after playing piquet with +Ménard,--it was the only game the ex-tutor knew,--had ended by falling +asleep over the cards; for, as neither of them had any money, they could +only play on credit, so that the game never became exciting, although +Ménard had at his service the King of Prussia's snuff-box, and took a +pinch every two or three minutes, to give himself some resemblance to +the great Frederick. + +Seeing Dubourg yawn, Ménard suggested that they go to bed; and they +postponed their conversation with Frédéric until the next day. But the +next day also passed without affording them a sight of him. + +Several other days passed in the same way. Dubourg's impatience +increased; he was very desirous to return to Allevard, to follow up his +conquest, and to play backgammon with the ironmaster. Monsieur Ménard, +on his side, was no less desirous to drink some more of Monsieur +Chambertin's pomard, and to sit beside Monsieur Fondant, who filled his +glass so handily. + +But they could not afford to walk to Allevard; it was essential that +they should make their appearance there in a style befitting the rank +they had assumed; above all things, they must have money in their +pockets, if they wished to cut a figure at the card-table. Ménard was +not convinced of the necessity of that; but as monsieur le baron thought +that it was indispensable, of course he agreed with him. + +"So that we absolutely must see Frédéric." + +"Parbleu!" said Dubourg; "we'll wait till to-night; and to keep from +going to sleep, we'll drink punch all night, if need be; what do you +say, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I agree with you entirely, monsieur le baron, provided that we have +some cake to go with the punch." + +"We will have four cakes; we will play piquet for them, and Frédéric +shall pay the bill." + +In the evening, a huge bowl of punch was brought, and a plate laden with +cakes. They began their game, and drank often to avoid falling asleep, +thereby putting themselves to sleep rather earlier than usual. After +they had drunk half a bowl each and eaten six or eight tarts and cakes, +their heads fell forward. + +"I am _capot_," said Dubourg. + +"Show your hand," added Ménard. + +They woke at daybreak, intensely disgusted to have fallen asleep; but, +at all events, Frédéric could not have gone away so early, and they +would find him at last. Dubourg called and shouted, but no one answered. +He went down into the innyard and asked about his friend. + +"He didn't come in last night," said the hostler. + +"Didn't come in!" cried Dubourg; "are you sure?" + +"Yes, monsieur; neither him nor the horse." + +"The devil!" ejaculated Dubourg; "this begins to be alarming. To stay +out all night--it's very strange." + +He went up to tell Ménard, and that gentleman, after reflecting for +fifteen minutes, inquired: + +"What do you think about it, monsieur le baron?" + +"Morbleu! that's what I ask you, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I don't dare to form any opinion, monsieur le baron--that's my +opinion." + +"It's very much like Brid'oison's." + +They passed the day waiting for Frédéric, who did not appear. Dubourg +was anxious about his friend, Ménard trembled for his pupil, and the +innkeeper would have been disturbed about his horse if he had not had +the carriage for security. + +The next morning, at daybreak, Dubourg appeared at Ménard's bedside, +with his hat on his head, and said: + +"Come, we must find Frédéric." + +"Let us find him, monsieur le baron." + +"To find him, we must look for him." + +"That is what I was thinking, monsieur le baron." + +"That doesn't seem to prevent your lying quietly in bed." + +"I am awaiting your final opinion." + +"My opinion is that we should start at once. That young man has a face +and figure so far from commonplace that we must be able to learn which +way he went; he can't be lost!" + +"We must hope not, for what would monsieur le comte his father say to +me?" + +"Get up, then, and come with me." + +Ménard dressed and breakfasted, and accompanied Dubourg, who ordered +saddles placed on two venerable farm horses, which the innkeeper +intrusted to them with a bad grace, because their account was beginning +to exceed the value of their carriage. At last they were mounted; Ménard +warned his companion that he could not ride faster than a walk, and +Dubourg replied that when one is making a search he does not travel +rapidly. + +When they left the inn, they inquired and were told which direction +Frédéric had taken. All along the road, people had noticed the young +horseman who passed every morning, urging his horse to his utmost speed, +and returned very slowly in the evening. Dubourg soon learned beyond +question that Frédéric rode to Vizille every day. + +"What does he go there for?" queried Dubourg. + +"He has probably found some charming view." + +"I think it's more likely to be some charming face." + +"What! monsieur le baron, you think----" + +"Why, yes; Frédéric isn't fool enough to stare at nothing but trees and +mountains all day. He was in search of a heart that would sympathize +with his, a nature as loving as his own--in a word, a woman who would +take his fancy; and who knows that he hasn't found some artless, +simple-minded peasant girl who has turned his head?" + +"For my part, I'll wager that he spends his time looking at the Grande +Chartreuse." + +"Consider, Monsieur Ménard, that Frédéric is only twenty-one." + +"Remember, monsieur le baron, that women have deceived him many times, +and that he left Paris to avoid them." + +"Is that any reason why he should never love another woman? Indeed, +Monsieur Ménard, when a man runs away from a thing, it's because he +feels that he couldn't resist it long." + +"Joseph fled from Potiphar's wife, monsieur le baron; but it was not for +fear of giving way to her." + +"Joseph allowed himself to be seduced at last, Monsieur Ménard, for his +posterity peopled Canaan." + +Arguing thus, they arrived at Vizille. They inquired about Frédéric in +the village; but the villagers, being busily employed, had paid little +attention to the young man, who had dined at the inn only twice; for we +have seen that he dined in the woods on what Sister Anne brought him. +They had seen him several times, to be sure, but they had not noticed in +which direction he went, or what he did in the village. So Dubourg and +his companion left Vizille, knowing little more than when they arrived. + +"All is lost!" cried Ménard, from time to time; "my pupil must have been +eaten by wolves or killed by highwaymen, or else he has fallen over a +precipice while watching a sunset! Poor Frédéric! so gentle, amiable, +and well-informed! there is nothing left for me but to weep for you! + + "'Qualis populea moerens Philomela sub umbra + Amissos queritur foetus!'" + +"Oh! no, Monsieur Ménard; Frédéric hasn't been killed or eaten. There's +no question here of a resemblance to Philomela weeping for her children; +what we have to do is to find out where the young man has gone. Ah! look +yonder--there's an animal who could give us some information about him, +I fancy." + +On leaving the village, they had gone down into the valley, and were now +on the outskirts of the forest, where Frédéric's horse was wandering at +will along the paths leading into the valley. + +"That's his horse," said Ménard. "I know him by that white spot; I've +seen him in the innyard; it's Frédéric's horse. And he's alone, without +a rider. An additional proof, monsieur le baron, that the young man has +fallen a victim to his imprudence. The horse undoubtedly threw him; my +pupil is dead; he probably tried to climb one of these mountains; it was +dark and he couldn't see the road at his feet. All is lost!" + +"I believe, on the contrary, that Frédéric is in these woods, and that +he left his horse here so that he could go where he chose. Let us adopt +the same method in looking for him; but let's be more prudent than he, +and tie our horses to one of these firs." + +They dismounted, and entered the woods, Ménard still holding his +handkerchief to his eyes, because he believed that Frédéric was dead or +wounded, and Dubourg marching ahead and peering intently in every +direction. Ere long he came quickly back to the tutor, with a triumphant +air, and said, pointing to a grassy mound: + +"Look! see if my presentiments misled me? there's the marvel of nature +that Frédéric comes here to admire." + +Ménard looked in the direction indicated, and saw, beneath a spreading +tree, his pupil lying carelessly on the grass, holding in his arms a +lovely girl, whose head rested against her lover's breast, and whose +arms were about his neck. + +"You were right, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, after a moment of +speechless surprise; "that isn't the Chartreuse! it is more modern." + +"That looks to me to be a lovely girl." + +"And to me also, monsieur le baron." + +"That sly dog of a Frédéric! It was decidedly clever of him to find such +a pretty face in this desert. Do you still think that he shuns the +ladies, Monsieur Ménard?" + +"It doesn't look like it at this moment." + +"Pshaw! Monsieur Ménard, Frédéric, although rather sentimental, is made +like other men; but we must go and offer him our respects." + +"That will disturb him, monsieur le baron." + +"Parbleu! as he passes all his days here, he has time enough to make +love." + +Dubourg and Ménard walked toward the lovers; at the sound of their +footsteps, Frédéric turned and saw them. The girl raised her eyes, and, +at sight of the two strangers, pressed closer to Frédéric; and hiding +her face against her lover's breast, seemed from that vantage-ground to +defy all dangers. + +"Bravo! my dear Frédéric, bravo!" laughed Dubourg. "I understand now why +you get up so early. Upon my word, your conquest is a charming creature, +and that little shy manner adds to the piquancy of her features." + +The dumb girl, after a swift glance at Dubourg, turned her eyes again +toward Frédéric, as if to ask him what it all meant. + +Frédéric rose and the girl did the same, clinging to her lover and +gazing uneasily at the two strangers; she seemed to fear that they had +come to take him from her; but Frédéric reassured her, then kissed her +affectionately, and bade her go and wait for him in Marguerite's garden. +It was hard for Sister Anne to obey, for she dreaded to leave him; but +again Frédéric promised to join her in a moment. The girl pointed to the +strangers, and her eyes said: + +"You won't go away with them?" + +He embraced her again, whereupon she became calmer, and at last went +away, not without turning her head many times to look fondly at Frédéric +and sadly at the strangers. + +"Very pretty, very pretty, on my word!" said Dubourg, looking after her. + +"If her speech resembles her plumage," murmured Ménard, between his +teeth, "she is the phoenix of the denizens of this forest." + +"Why have you come here, messieurs?" demanded Frédéric, angrily. + +"Why have we come? parbleu! to look for you, who desert us and leave us +penniless at an inn, to come to make love here in the woods with a +peasant girl, who is very pretty, I agree, but who ought not to make you +forget your friend and your venerable tutor." + +Frédéric made no reply, but seemed to be absorbed in thought. + +"Monsieur le comte," said Ménard, coming forward with an air of profound +respect, "certainly it is lawful for every man to be susceptible to +female charms; Adam was with Eve,--to be sure, he had no chance to be +with any other woman,--Abraham with Hagar, David with Bathsheba, Samson +with Delilah; and when such a man as Samson succumbed, how can we, who +are not Samsons, be expected to resist? But still, monsieur le comte, +_est modus in rebus_; you should not, for the sake of a new attachment, +forget all that you owe to yourself, and descend from the rank in which +destiny has placed you. Now, monsieur le comte your father did not allow +you to take this journey for the purpose of living in the woods like a +savage; whence I conclude----" + +"My dear Monsieur Ménard," said Frédéric, emerging at last from his +reverie, but making no reply to his tutor's harangue, "I have something +of great importance to say to monsieur le baron; I cannot say it before +anyone else, so oblige me by taking a turn up the valley; we will join +you very soon." + +"I cannot refuse you anything, monsieur le comte; I await your coming, +with confidence."--And Ménard left the woods, saying to himself: "My +sermon has had a good effect; the young man realizes his wrong-doing; he +will mend his ways and return to us like the prodigal son, with a white +staff in one hand and his horse's rein in the other." + +Ménard was no sooner out of sight, than Frédéric walked quickly to +Dubourg's side. + +"Why did you bring our mentor here? why have you tracked me to this +forest? am I no longer the master of my actions?" + +"In the first place, the mentor is not a very alarming person; secondly, +we were bound to find out what had become of you, as we heard nothing +from you; and, lastly, could I believe that, for an amourette, you would +become an Orlando Furioso?" + +"An amourette! No, Dubourg; this is a genuine passion, and one that will +last forever. I have never loved so passionately! I have never met a +woman more worthy of my love. Ah! Dubourg, if you knew that sweet +child's heart! she is an utter stranger to all the deceits and +hypocrisies of the world; her heart is as pure and beautiful as her +features. Ah! my friend, not in Paris, not in the brilliant salons of +the capital, could I find a woman who would love me so dearly." + +"Nonsense! but you are excited, and I see that it will be hard for me to +make you listen to reason. This girl seemed to me to be very pretty, +indeed, and I agree that she's a phoenix; but, after all, what do you +propose to do? surely you don't intend to pass your life in these +woods?" + +"I don't intend to leave Sister Anne." + +"Very good; then bring your Sister Anne along; let her come with us; +make a baroness of her, if you choose, for the benefit of poor Ménard; +I'll undertake to arrange it all; but leave these old fir-trees, under +which you'll turn into an orang-outang in time." + +"That isn't possible. In yonder cabin there is an excellent old woman, +who has taken care of her ever since she was a child; she can't desert +her." + +"The deuce! so you have a whole family on your hands!" + +"Go, Dubourg; return to Grenoble with Ménard; I will join you there in a +few days, but I cannot leave her now." + +"Return to Grenoble, eh? Do you imagine that I enjoy myself there, with +your tutor, when I can't show my face anywhere?" + +"Oh! I forgot. Take this wallet; it contains our fortune; take it, and +do what you please with it. I have a few louis, that's all I need." + +"Really, my dear Frédéric, you are mad! to think of living in the woods +and making love all day with your little villager!" + +"Ah! she's no ordinary woman. If you knew--poor child! But, no, I won't +tell you anything; you can't understand my heart. Adieu, Dubourg!" + +"You insist upon it? All right, I'll take the cash-box, and leave you. I +know what men are, I have had more experience than you have: within a +fortnight, you'll have had enough of this kind of life, and you'll come +back to us." + +"Yes, if Sister Anne will come with me." + +"You will come without her, I am perfectly sure. Au revoir! make love at +your ease; make it all day and all night; in short, make so much of it, +that a fortnight hence you'll have had more than enough." + +And Dubourg, having put the wallet in his pocket, hastened down into the +valley, where he found Ménard sitting quietly by their horses. + +"To horse!" he exclaimed joyfully; "make haste!" + +"What's that? to horse? But I don't see monsieur le comte." + +"Because he has stayed with his Dulcinea." + +"He stays, and we go?" + +"To be sure; for, having no passions in the forest, we might be bored +here." + +"But, monsieur le baron, I don't understand this at all." + +"Monsieur Ménard, I am acting like a man who knows the human heart, +especially that of a young man. If we had undertaken to thwart his +wishes, Frédéric would have been quite capable of doing some insane +thing. Instead of that, let us allow him to follow his inclination. I +will answer for it that, in a fortnight at the latest, his love, being +satisfied, will have calmed down, and he will have recovered his senses. +There is no passion deep enough to stand a tête-à-tête of three +consecutive weeks. Love is a fire which goes out of itself, because it +never has sense enough to be sparing of its fuel." + +"Faith! monsieur le baron, I begin to think that you are right." + +"To horse, then, Monsieur Ménard, and _vive la gaieté_! To-morrow, I +will take you to dine with our friend Chambertin." + +"Really, monsieur le baron?" + +"And I promise you that we'll make an entry into the village that will +cause a sensation." + +"I don't understand you, monsieur le baron; but you arrange things so +well, that I rely on you." + +And Ménard, overjoyed at the prospect of going to Monsieur Chambertin's +the next day, dug his heels into his horse's sides for the first time in +his life,--to be sure, he had no spurs,--and trotted along at Dubourg's +side. + +"Still, it's a great pity that my pupil has made this new acquaintance," +he said; "a woman sometimes makes a man commit many follies! Cato said +that wisdom and common sense were incompatible with a woman's mind." + +"Oh! probably Cato was unlucky in love, Monsieur Ménard." + +"Saint Bernard calls woman the _organum diaboli_." + +"But Confucius declares that a woman's mind is the masterpiece of the +Creator." + +"Juvenal says that the thought of vengeance has more attraction for a +woman than for a man." + +"Which proves, Monsieur Ménard, that she bears some resemblance to the +gods." + +"And Origen says: 'Woman is the key to sin.'" + +"I had always supposed that she was only the lock." + +"Agnès Sorel enfeebled the courage of Charles VII." + +"And another woman restored it." + +"Joanna of Naples caused her husband to be strangled." + +"Jeanne Hachette saved Beauvais." + +"On the whole, monsieur le baron, it seems to be about an even thing." + +Let us leave our two friends to return to Grenoble, discussing the +nature of womankind,--a discussion which might lead them very far, and +leave them without any additional knowledge of the subject; for a +learned man has said that a woman's heart has as many varying moods as +there are grains of sand on the seashore (and he must have been learned, +indeed, to know the number of the latter),--and let us return to +Frédéric. + +He breathed more freely when Dubourg had left him, and ere long he heard +the steps of the horses which bore his companions away. Thereupon, as +well pleased as Crates, who cried, after throwing all his money into the +sea: "Now I am free!" he felt more at liberty to abandon himself to his +passion for the dumb girl, since he was rid of Dubourg and Ménard; and +he hurried away to the cabin. Frédéric did not look beyond the present; +he did not reflect; for he was twenty-one years old, and he was +passionately in love! + +Sister Anne was in the garden, trembling from head to foot; old +Marguerite was asleep, and the girl could abandon herself without +restraint to the sentiments which agitated her. The presence of those +two men who knew Frédéric caused her a disquietude which became more +painful with every minute that passed. To live without her friend seemed +impossible to her now. Love was life itself to that heart of flame which +had not learned, in that forest solitude, to control its passions. Her +loving heart had flown to meet him who had said to her: "I love you." +But when she gave herself to him, Sister Anne bound herself forever. +Frédéric had taught her to know happiness; he had revivified her heart, +withered by misfortune. When she finds that she has the power to please, +a woman is born again. What would become of her, if she must renounce +that hope at sixteen? Frédéric was all in all to her; and until that +moment love had seemed to her the summit of earthly happiness. But there +is no lasting happiness, especially in love. Only a few short days of +bliss had passed, and already the poor child was beginning to know the +suffering which that sentiment brings in its train. + +At last, Frédéric appeared. She did not run--she flew into his arms; she +cast her eyes about; he was alone, and her heart was more at ease. + +"No," said her lover, kissing her; "I will not leave you. Where could I +find a lovelier woman--one more faithful or more worthy to be loved? +What do I care what they say? what do I care for a world to which no tie +binds me? I am perfectly happy here. My father himself could not induce +me to give you up!" + +Another kiss on the girl's sweet lips sealed the promise he had made. +The night with its darkness brought even sweeter moments, for the lovers +shared the same couch; and in the arms of her who lavished the most +loving caresses upon him, Frédéric repeated his vow: + +"No, I will never leave you!" + +But after a week, the days passed less swiftly for our lover; the poor +girl's fond caresses no longer sufficed to occupy the time; he felt that +he must have some occupation, that one cannot dream one's whole life +away beside a mountain stream. + +After another week, he went down into the valley, mounted the horse, +which he had kept, and took several short rides in the neighborhood, to +procure some provisions that they required, as he told Sister Anne; +although he had done well enough without them at the beginning of his +sojourn in the woods. + +After another week, he began to gaze longingly in the direction of +Grenoble. He was surprised that Dubourg did not return to inquire as to +his welfare, and that Ménard too had forgotten him. Indeed, I believe +that in his heart he was offended. Did he no longer love Sister Anne? +Oh! yes, he loved her still. But time!--And, as Dubourg had well said, +there is no love strong enough to stand a tête-à-tête of three weeks. + +But let us not anticipate; let us leave him with the dumb girl, who +loves him as dearly as on the first day, because--oh! ask some woman +why!--and let us return to Dubourg, who once more has the funds for the +journey at his disposal. + + + + +XV + +FÊTE, DINNER PARTY, FIREWORKS, SURPRISE + + +On arriving at Grenoble, Dubourg ordered dinner, and the usual repast, +common to all the guests, was served to them. + +"What kind of a dinner is this? we must have something different to eat, +and, above all, some different wines," said Dubourg, beginning to make +an uproar because he had money in his pocket. + +The host appeared, and informed the gentlemen that their account was +already quite large, because, in addition to their board and lodging, +their young companion had foundered all the horses belonging to the inn +by overriding them. Dubourg's only reply was to take a five-hundred-franc +note from his pocket and give it to the innkeeper, saying, with all the +sang-froid of true grandeur: + +"Take your pay out of this." + +The host opened his eyes; his pinched nostrils expanded; his mouth, in +his efforts to give it an amiable expression, split from ear to ear; he +tied himself up in apologetic phrases, and ended by saying that he would +at once make up his account, but that he hoped that the gentlemen would +not leave him, and, if agreeable to them, he would give them muscatel +with their dinner. + +When he had gone, Monsieur Ménard, whose expression was almost as +comical as the innkeeper's, said to Dubourg: + +"Have you received funds from Poland, monsieur le baron?" + +"Why, yes, to be sure, Monsieur Ménard. Parbleu! Money isn't apt to be +scarce long, with me." + +"But I didn't see the courier who----" + +"You must have been asleep when he arrived. The main point is that we +can go anywhere now, and not have to stand by, like misers, and watch +other people play, which is not noble at all. To begin with, we will go +to see our friend Chambertin to-morrow; but, in my judgment, we had +better send a messenger to give him notice of our proposed visit, so +that he may entertain us as we deserve. What do you think about it, +Monsieur Ménard?" + +"I think that cannot fail to have a good effect, monsieur le baron." + +"Then find me a scullery boy, and dress him in your flannel waistcoat +and my morning cap, to give him an English look. Meanwhile, I will go +and write my letter." + +Ménard went out to look for a boy to be transformed into an English +jockey, while Dubourg composed the following epistle: + + "Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava, etc., etc., has the + honor to inform his honorable friend De Chambertin d 'Allevard that + he will visit his château to-morrow, accompanied by Professor + Ménard. Baron Potoski kisses the hand of Madame de Chambertin + d'Allevard." + +They handed the letter to the scullery boy disguised as a courier, who, +in consideration of a five-franc piece, went off at once to deliver it +at its address. + +Monsieur and Madame Chambertin were about to retire when the messenger +arrived. It was half-past nine o'clock; and in the country, when one +does not cultivate letters, or music, or painting, or one's garden, the +evenings seem interminable. Monsieur Chambertin had played the violin, +and madame had sung a new romanza; then they had talked of the noble +Pole, whom they despaired of seeing again; and monsieur had said: "I am +amazed; he gave me his word that he would come." And madame had added, +with a sigh: "It surprises me much more than you." + +The noise made by the messenger caused Monsieur Chambertin to pause as +he was about putting his legs under the bedclothes. He did not continue, +although his wife said to him: "Do get into bed; the servants are there +to answer the bell." But who could have come so late? + +Someone knocked at the bedroom door; it proved to be Lunel, who +announced through the keyhole a message from Monsieur le Baron de +Potoski. + +At that name, Monsieur Chambertin, who still held his leg in the air, +ready to thrust it into bed, abruptly withdrew it and, losing his +balance, rolled on the floor; while Madame Chambertin sat up in bed, and +called loudly for a mirror to arrange her hair. Her husband rose +meanwhile, and ran to get his dressing-gown, calling to Lunel: + +"I am coming, Lunel; I am coming right away!" + +"Give it to me instantly, monsieur," cried Madame Chambertin; "I am in a +hurry, I shall never have time." + +Monsieur Chambertin handed his wife something that she had not asked +for, and ran to open the door. Lunel entered, followed by the jockey, +while Madame Chambertin, furious at her husband's mistake, drew her +bed-curtains together with a jerk, that she might not be seen in an +equivocal position. + +Monsieur Chambertin took the letter and read it; at each word, his face +became more radiant; he could not contain himself, but called out to his +wife: + +"The baron is coming! He calls me De Chambertin d'Allevard! He kisses +your hand, wife!" + +And Chambertin ran to open the curtains, and came in collision with the +object he had handed madame by mistake. + +"Take care, monsieur!" said she; "what on earth are you doing?" + +"D'Allevard, wife!" cried Chambertin, seizing the article in question +and strutting about the room with it. "D'Allevard--just as if I were the +lord of the district; indeed I am--almost--and I hope that, thanks to +the baron, I shall soon be so altogether!" + +"Put that down, monsieur; put it down somewhere!" madame cried to her +husband, who was so excited that he had no idea what he was doing. She +then ordered Lunel to give the messenger something to eat and drink, +and said to the latter that his master and his friend would be received +with the honors they deserved. + +When the messenger had gone, Chambertin threw himself into an armchair, +and madame replaced her head on the pillow; but the letter they had +received made it impossible for them to think of sleep. Monsieur +Chambertin read it again. He was especially flattered by the title +_D'Allevard_. + +"It's the name of the village," said madame. + +"True; but by putting it after my name, it ennobles me." + +"You know perfectly well, monsieur, that that's what everybody does in +Paris; aren't there two of our neighbors who call themselves by the name +of their town: Monsieur Gérard de Villers-Cotterets, and Monsieur Leroux +d'Ermenonville? Six months ago, I told you you ought to call yourself +Chambertin d'Allevard; but you never listen to me." + +"My dear love, now that monsieur le baron has given me that title, I +certainly shall not give it up; and I shall never sign my name any other +way. To-morrow, wife, I give a party." + +"I trust so, monsieur." + +"Dinner, ball, concert, and fireworks. I believe no fireworks have ever +been seen in the neighborhood, and they'll produce a tremendous effect. +I shall invite all the best people among our neighbors." + +"I'll have my hair dressed _à la_ Ferronnière; that's very becoming to +me." + +"I'll have the whole estate illuminated." + +"My dress with a train----" + +"With colored lanterns." + +"A pale blue girdle." + +"Lamps in the courtyard----" + +"My cherry-colored slippers." + +"The largest I can find." + +"A scarf." + +"Festoons of flowers." + +"My pearl necklace." + +"And a fusillade!" + +The landlord made up his account so that it came to just five hundred +francs, and monsieur le baron was entitled to no change. Any other than +Dubourg would have contested the charge of three hundred francs for +laming three or four wretched horses which were too old to draw the +plough; but he did not enjoy scrutinizing accounts; he contented himself +with ordering a neat tilbury for the morrow, and two of the landlord's +servants to represent his suite. + +Dubourg then took cognizance of the contents of his cash-box; he found +himself the possessor of forty-five hundred francs; that was more than +he needed to win ten times as much. He trusted that the local +ironmasters would make up the sum that the chevalier and the count with +lace cuffs had filched from him. + +The next day, about noon, Dubourg and Ménard prepared for their visit to +Allevard, where they planned to arrive for dinner. As the innkeeper had +been unable to find a tilbury in the city, his guests were obliged to be +content with a yellow char-à-bancs with two seats. Dubourg and Ménard +took their places on the first seat, and on the second they planted two +little scullery boys, swaddled in jackets and trousers taken from +different persons, and having on their heads old hunting-caps which came +down to their noses and gave them a decidedly foreign aspect. Dubourg +expressly enjoined upon them to pretend not to understand French, but +to confine themselves to making signs, so that they might pass for two +young Poles; and they solemnly promised to obey. + +They set out, Dubourg driving; but although he had asked the host for +his best horses, he could not succeed in inducing them to gallop; he had +to be content with a very moderate trot, which necessarily delayed their +arrival. Ménard was afraid that they would dine without them, and +Dubourg was in despair because he could not enter Monsieur Chambertin's +domain with the speed of a locomotive. + +It was half-past five when at last they descried the roofs of Allevard. +Dubourg exhausted himself trying to increase the speed of his horses. As +they drew near Monsieur Chambertin's house, in front of which there was +a large number of people, he said to Ménard: + +"Poke them with your cane, so that we may drive up at a decent trot at +least." + +As Ménard put out his arm to comply, they heard a great outcry of: "Here +they are! here they are!" Four musket-shots followed in rapid +succession, two violins and a clarinet executed the overture to _La +Caravane_; and the two nags, frightened by the reports and the music, +shied and dragged the char-à-bancs up a hillside to the right of the +road, instead of keeping on toward the house. + +"This is charming, delightful!" cried Dubourg; while Ménard, who was +afraid of being overturned, exclaimed: + +"Take care, monsieur le baron; our horses are running away!" + +And Monsieur Chambertin, who had been waiting to illuminate since two +o'clock, said to his guests: + +"See how well monsieur le baron drives; he went up that hill on purpose +to give us a specimen of his talent." + +But, when coming down the hill again, the horses went much faster, and +at every instant the fragile carriage nearly overturned as it passed +over the stones or sank into ruts; Ménard trembled with fear, the two +jockeys cried out, and Dubourg said to them: + +"Be still, you rascals! I told you not to talk French; don't be afraid, +I'll answer for everything." + +The carriage went like the wind; luckily, they were then headed toward +the house; but instead of passing through the main gateway, the coursers +ran full tilt at the wall. The shock was so violent that the two jockeys +were thrown out on the grass. Dubourg jumped out, crying: "I will answer +for everything!" Ménard alone remained in his seat, as if he were glued +to it. + +No one was injured. Dubourg went forward laughing to salute the company, +declaring that that was the usual way of alighting from a carriage in +Poland. Ménard, proud of having retained his seat, joined the party, +displaying his ruff; and the two scullions pointed to their buttocks, +without a word, when Lunel asked them if they were hurt. + +Dubourg was welcomed most cordially. Monsieur Chambertin was in the +seventh heaven, for the baron pressed his hand and called him his dear +friend; Madame Chambertin was no less gratified, the illustrious +stranger having whispered as he saluted her: "You have not been out of +my mind one moment." And all the guests seemed overjoyed to be in the +company of a great noble, who did not put on airs at all, and made +everybody feel at ease. + +Monsieur Chambertin had got together some forty persons: all the wealthy +landowners of the neighborhood, the mayor, the notary, the clerk of the +peace, ironmasters, and a few friends from Paris and Lyon--in short, +all those whom he deemed worthy to meet monsieur le baron. + +They took their places at the table, Dubourg in the seat of honor at +madame's right, and Ménard, to his great delight, beside Monsieur +Fondant, who talked no more than before, but was very attentive to him +in the way of filling his glass and passing him food. + +"I hope," said Chambertin, "that monsieur le baron will give us a few +days, and Monsieur Ménard as well." + +"Yes," said Dubourg, "we have arranged to pass several days in this +delightful spot." + +As he spoke, he touched Madame Chambertin's knee with his own, whereupon +she swallowed a chicken bone to cover an imprudent sigh. Ménard bowed, +and Chambertin rejoined: + +"I have but one regret, and that is that you did not bring your friend +the Comte de--the Comte du--you know whom I mean." + +"Oh! he's an original," said Dubourg; "he shuns society. I left him my +berlin and my servants, and brought only my two little Poles." + +"Ah! they are Poles, are they? They are dapper little fellows; I took +them for Cossacks." + +At that moment, Lunel appeared and informed Dubourg that his servants +were raising the deuce in the kitchen and refused to answer any +questions. + +"Parbleu! I should think so! they don't understand French." + +"Allow the baron's people to do as they choose," said Chambertin, "and +try to understand their signs." + +"Very pretty signs they are," muttered Lunel; "they don't do anything +but stick their fingers in the sauces and wipe 'em on their breeches!" + +The high spirits of Dubourg and the learned Ménard enlivened the whole +company. They talked and laughed and ate and drank. But whenever Dubourg +spoke, Chambertin looked about and said: + +"Sh! let us listen to monsieur le baron." + +At dessert, Monsieur Bidault proposed to sing; but Dubourg observed that +in good society it was no longer fashionable to sing, and Chambertin +imposed silence on the ex-notary. + +"Singing isn't fashionable," he said; "what were you thinking about?" + +But the corpulent Frossard was in the habit of singing, and he was not +at all abashed by what Chambertin said; whereupon the host, seeing that +he could not prevent him from singing his drinking-song, requested the +company to walk into the adjoining room, where the concert was about to +begin, hoping that the ironmaster's ditty would pass for an aria. + +A lady and gentleman regaled the company with a piece for harp and +piano, with thirty-six variations. The mayor took his 'cello, and the +notary a violin; a horn was presented to Dubourg, who had said that he +played on all instruments, but who now declared that he could play only +the English horn, and passed the instrument to Ménard, forcing him into +a seat in front of a music stand. The tutor stared at him in amazement, +but he whispered in his ear: + +"Just blow into it, and don't look embarrassed." + +Ménard, who had not spared his host's wine at dinner, was not afraid of +anything; he took the horn and put the mouthpiece to his lips, blowing +with all his might and rolling his eyes. They began a trio, Dubourg +beating time. Whenever it was the horn's turn, not a sound was heard, +because, try as hard as he would, Ménard could not find the mouthpiece; +but Dubourg seemed content, and said, turning toward the company: + +"I have never heard such sweet music! no one would believe that it was a +horn!" + +Everybody applauded, and Ménard, after it was all over, said to himself: + +"I knew how to play the horn, and I never suspected it!" + +The concert came to an end at last; Dubourg suggested a game, and the +tables were soon arranged. Backgammon is not often played in a salon, +but Dubourg said that they played nothing else at the Polish court; +whereupon Monsieur Chambertin instantly produced a board, and declared +that within a week he would have four in his salon. Dubourg and Frossard +took their places, and Chambertin watched them play, although he did not +understand the game at all. + +Dubourg was in luck; he urged his adversary to increase the stakes, and +tried to taunt him into doing so. He had won some twenty louis, when +there was a tremendous report in the garden. + +Cries of: "It's the fireworks!" arose on all sides, and everybody +hurried into the garden. + +"To the devil with the fireworks!" exclaimed Dubourg; "the dice are just +beginning to fall well for me!" + +But he tried in vain to detain the ironmaster, who was determined to see +the fireworks; so Dubourg concluded to do as everybody else did. + +He left the salon. The fireworks were at the end of the garden, and +Dubourg fell in with Madame Chambertin, who was coming to see what +monsieur le baron was doing, and, it may be, to seek an opportunity for +a tête-à-tête. Dubourg offered her his arm; he was in excellent +spirits, and, as he recalled the conversation under the table and the +stifled sighs, he reflected that he was to pass several days in the +house, and that he ought to show himself worthy of the welcome he had +received. These considerations led him to take a path which did not lead +to the place where the other guests were. + +"Where are you taking me, pray?" madame asked, now and then. But Dubourg +replied: + +"I don't know at all, but let us go on." + +They soon came to a small summer-house, which was not lighted and had +but one window, a little farther from the ground than an ordinary +ground-floor window. Dubourg opened the door, pushed Madame Chambertin +in, and entered behind her, taking care to close the door. + +Meanwhile, Monsieur Chambertin, who had provided the fireworks expressly +for his friend the baron, was looking for him in the glare of a +Bengal-light; as he did not see him, he ran hither and thither, crying: + +"Come, monsieur le baron, come, I entreat you! Two pieces have been set +off already, and they're just lighting the first transparency!" + +Dubourg, who was probably not thinking of the transparency at that +moment, heard Chambertin's voice, and called to him from the interior of +the summer-house: + +"I am here, I can see very well; don't worry about me; your good wife is +obliging enough to explain the fireworks to me." + +"What! I don't see you at the window." + +"Because madame is afraid of the rocket-sticks; but we can see very +well." + +"Ah! that's good! I am delighted that you have a good place," said +Chambertin, standing under the window. "I arranged the display myself; +did you see the sun?" + +"No, but I smelt it; it smelt something like the moon." + +"Look at these little serpents; what perpetual motion! they go very +well, don't they?" + +"Wonderfully well." + +"Pray explain the transparency to monsieur le baron, wife." + +"Oh! monsieur le baron grasps it all very quickly," replied Madame +Chambertin, in a voice upon which the smoke seemed to have had a serious +effect. + +"Look out! there goes the bouquet!" + +The bouquet exploded amid applause and shouts of _bravo_! The company +returned to the house, enchanted by the display, and Madame Chambertin +came out of the summer-house with monsieur le baron. + +"The bouquet was fine," said Chambertin, rubbing his hands. + +"I am still a little dazed by it," said madame, tremulously. + +"It was worthy of the lord of this domain," added Dubourg. + +"Upon my word," said Chambertin, "I believe I am almost that." + +"You are altogether, my dear friend; it is I who say it." + +"When a man of your eminence assures me of it, monsieur le baron, I can +no longer doubt it." + +But it was after eleven o'clock, and that is unduly late in the country. +Those of the guests who lived at some distance entered their carriages; +those who lived in the village ordered their servants to light their +lanterns; they took leave of Monsieur and Madame Chambertin, +congratulating them on the magnificence of their party; they bowed +deferentially to monsieur le baron, and departed to their respective +abodes. Thereupon Monsieur Chambertin, thinking that his illustrious +friend must long for repose, and seeing that the learned Ménard had +fallen asleep in the salon, ordered the servants to escort those +gentlemen to their rooms. + +The finest apartment on the first floor had been prepared for the young +nobleman, and a pretty room on the second for the professor, who, if he +had been nothing more than that, would probably have been relegated to +the attic, but who was treated with the highest consideration because he +was the baron's friend and companion. + +The whole household had retired. Ménard was already snoring like one of +the blessed, which means that the blessed do not have bad dreams. +Dubourg stretched himself out luxuriously in a soft bed, surrounded by +rich silk curtains with gold fringe and tassels, and said to himself: + +"Gad! it's mighty amusing to play the baron! these people overwhelm me +with attentions, and fly to meet my lightest wish! And all because they +think me a palatine! If I had introduced myself as plain Monsieur +Dubourg of Rennes, they would have told me to go my way; and yet this +other name hasn't made a different man of me. But all men have their +share of madness--a little more or a little less. Instead of trying to +cure it, which would be very noble, no doubt, but which strikes me as +rather too difficult, one must flatter their mania to make one's self +agreeable to them. This Chambertin is an ass, who, after trading in wine +two-thirds of his days, is trying to play the grandee and to ape the +airs of the nobility during the last third. What do I care for his +idiocy? he is delighted to entertain a baron, and I will play the baron +as long as I enjoy myself here. His wife is very willing that I should +make love to her, and I'll do it as long as I haven't anything better to +do; and it is more than probable that I shan't find anything better as +long as I am in her house, because a coquettish woman who has seen her +best days never invites any pretty girls who may rob her of attentions." + +Reflecting thus, Dubourg was beginning to doze, when he heard a great +uproar in the courtyard,--outcries, oaths, and roars of laughter,--and, +in the midst of it, he fancied that he recognized the voice of one of +his jockeys. He rose, partly dressed himself, and opened the window +looking on the courtyard. He saw a number of servants assembled there, +and old Lunel fighting for a chicken with one of the little Poles, while +the other was shrieking and weeping in a corner. + +The two scullions, faithful to the orders Dubourg had given them, had +replied only by signs to the other servants; but Lunel, who was Monsieur +Chambertin's steward, valet, and groom, all in one, was very ill +disposed toward the baron's servants, as well as toward their master, +whom he had driven to Grenoble, and from whom he had received no other +_pourboire_ than a tap on the cheek. The two boys had bruised themselves +behind, when they were thrown out of the carriage; that was why, when +trying to make themselves understood by signs, they frequently put their +hands to the injured part: a gesture which seemed to Lunel most +insulting, and he was convinced that the young Poles intended to make +sport of him. + +To be revenged on them, he had taken them up to a small room under the +eaves, and left them there, supperless. The little fellows did not go to +bed, thinking all the time that food would be brought to them, or that +they would be called to supper. At last, tired of waiting, they went +downstairs. Everybody had retired except Lunel, who was sitting up +because he suspected that the baron's servants would not remain quiet. + +The little fellows, spurred on by hunger, got scent of the store-closet, +which was in the kitchen; and as one of the kitchen windows was open, +they easily crawled in, and, making a hole in the canvas door of the +closet, one of them seized a chicken which had not been touched, the +other the carcass of a hare which still had some meat on it. They were +about to fly with their booty when Lunel discovered them; he shouted +_thief!_ and struck at them with a whip with which he had armed himself. +The scullions ran to the window and climbed through; one fell and +bruised his nose; the other, being less awkward, was running off with +his chicken, when Lunel overtook him and tried to wrest it from him. +Thereupon a struggle began. + +"You shan't have it!" cried the boy. + +"Oho! you little rascal! you can talk French now, can you? I'll teach +you to make insulting signs to me!" + +Meanwhile, the one who had fallen cried: + +"I've broke my nose; it's that old dodger's fault for not giving us any +supper!" + +It was at this crisis that Dubourg appeared at his window. All the +servants had come down into the courtyard; and Monsieur Chambertin also +appeared on his balcony, in his robe de chambre. + +"What's the meaning of all this noise?" he demanded. + +"Those are my little Poles." + +"Yes, your Poles, who talk French now," retorted Lunel; "I caught 'em +stealing in the store-closet." + +"He didn't give us any supper," said the boys, "and he was waiting for +us in a corner with a whip." + +"A miracle!" cried Dubourg; "they have spoken! they understand! That +whip seems to have taught them more quickly than any schooling!--Come, +my young friends, come up here and let me hear you speak French, and you +shall have some supper." + +"And you, knave," shouted Monsieur Chambertin to his servant, "if you +presume to lay a finger on monsieur le baron's Poles again, I'll have +you horsewhipped, and discharge you!" + +"They're no more Poles than I am a Turk!" muttered Lunel, as he walked +away. + +The jockeys went up to their master's apartments, with the chicken and +the hare they had rescued from the battle; the servants returned to bed, +and Monsieur Chambertin resumed his place beside his wife, who was +dreaming that she was in the summer-house, and that they were about to +set off a petard. + +Dubourg concluded that it would be imprudent to keep with him two young +imps who would surely get into further mischief. So, early the next +morning, he gave them each three francs and sent them back to Grenoble, +to the great contentment of Lunel, who did not like Poles. + +The following days passed quietly; a few friends came to share Monsieur +Chambertin's pleasure and to listen to all the fables Dubourg chose to +tell them concerning his estates, his châteaux, his family, and his +duties at the court of Poland. Ménard did not say much, but he ate and +drank vigorously, and cited a Latin author now and then; so that the +company, not understanding him, regarded him with renewed respect. + +Dubourg gambled every evening, but only for small stakes. Frossard was +absent, Monsieur Chambertin never got excited over the game, and Dubourg +began to think that he would not double his capital. But the host's +birthday was approaching, and on that occasion the house was to be +turned topsy-turvy once more. Some very wealthy friends from Paris were +expected, who would play as high as monsieur le baron wished. It was +Madame Chambertin who had invited them, for she did everything that she +could to detain the agreeable guest; and she said to her husband every +day: + +"You don't realize all the honor Monsieur de Potoski does you by paying +you a visit; you have no conception of it!" + +"I assure you, my dear love, that I am very proud of it, and that I will +do all that I can to keep him." + +"You will do well, monsieur; for his going would leave a great void in +my life. He is a man who would be very hard to replace. He is noble to +his finger-tips." + +But everything was in commotion at Monsieur Chambertin's, where great +preparations were being made for the approaching function, of which the +charming stranger was again to be the hero. Monsieur Chambertin seemed +determined to outdo himself; he sent for workmen, whom he employed with +a great show of mystery in the garden, and they seemed always to be in +the neighborhood of the summer-house. He was preparing a surprise for +his guest; and as his last fireworks were talked about all over the +neighborhood, he determined that the renown of his next display should +reach to Lyon. + +The great day came at last, and many guests arrived. Monsieur Chambertin +was immensely pleased with the surprise he had arranged for the baron, +and would not even take his wife into his confidence. The former wine +merchant's circle was augmented by new faces. A sumptuous banquet was +served; the dishes were exquisite, the wines delicious, and Dubourg did +the honors of the table almost unassisted, because whenever he called +his host "my friend D'Allevard," he was certain to turn his head. + +"Twice happy the day that I met you!" he whispered to madame. + +"What do you say? twice?" she replied, with a sigh; "oh! that is not +enough! say rather four, or five, or six times!" + +"Let us call it seven, and stop at that!" said Dubourg. + +The dinner came to an end. Monsieur Chambertin had but one regret--that +his friend Durosey, whom he had been expecting from Paris for several +days, had not arrived. Every time that he heard friend Durosey's name, +Dubourg said to himself: + +"I used to know someone of that name in Paris; but where in the devil +did I know him?" + +He asked Chambertin who this Monsieur Durosey might be. + +"He's a wholesale merchant, who has just retired from business with +twenty thousand francs a year." + +"In that case," thought Dubourg, "it can't be the man I knew, for I +never associated with wholesale merchants." + +They returned to the salon, where a rich landowner, who was very fond of +écarté, seemed inclined to try his luck against monsieur le baron, when +Lunel announced that Monsieur Durosey had arrived. Chambertin was +delighted; he left the room, and soon returned with his friend, whom he +introduced to the assembled company. Dubourg glanced at the new-comer +and recognized the former keeper of a restaurant in Paris, to whom he +owed a matter of four hundred francs, which had been standing two years, +and which he had not found himself in a position to pay. Monsieur +Chambertin, through vanity, had represented him as a wholesale merchant +instead of a retired restaurant keeper. + +The meeting was exceedingly disagreeable to Dubourg, but he did not lose +his head; and when Chambertin came forward with Durosey, saying: "I +present you to Monsieur le Baron de Potoski, a Polish palatine," Dubourg +bowed and smirked, blinking his eyes, twisting his mouth, and making +such grimaces that it was improbable that his creditor could recognize +him. + +Monsieur Durosey did not stop in front of Dubourg, who felt more at ease +and resumed his game more tranquilly. From time to time, however, he +glanced about the salon, and when he met his former entertainer's eye he +fancied that the latter was scrutinizing him carefully; whereupon he +resumed his facial contortions and grimacing, and tried to affect a sort +of Saint Vitus's dance by constantly twisting his nose and mouth toward +his left ear. + +But his creditor's presence annoyed and embarrassed him; he could not +pay attention to his game, he lost his head completely, and his money +slowly but surely passed into his adversary's possession. Dubourg +suggested doubling, then trebling, the stakes; the rich squire agreed, +for he could not refuse monsieur le baron. A large part of the company +stood about the table, which was covered with five-hundred-franc notes; +and Monsieur Durosey planted himself exactly in front of Dubourg, who +could not raise his eyes without meeting his creditor's, and who, to +fill his cup to the brim, had the worst possible luck. In half an hour, +the travelling fund had passed into other hands, and Dubourg rose, +saying that he was going to get some more money. + +But as he was looking about for his friend Chambertin, to borrow a few +thousand francs, with which he hoped to recover what he had lost,--for a +gambler continues to hope until he is on his death-bed,--the former +restaurant keeper, who had not lost sight of him, joined him in a window +recess. It was impossible to avoid him. + +"How is Monsieur Dubourg?" he asked, with a roguish air. + +"Dubourg? what do you mean by Dubourg?" replied the pretended baron, +working his nose and mouth more violently than ever. + +"Oh! I have the honor to recognize monsieur," retorted the creditor, in +a louder tone; "but I didn't know that he was a Polish baron----" + +"Hush! not another word, my dear Monsieur Durosey," said Dubourg, seeing +that it was impossible to hoodwink his interlocutor. "I didn't recognize +you at first, but now I place you perfectly. I am delighted to see you." + +"The same with me, monsieur. You seem to be in very comfortable +circumstances now, staking five hundred francs at once at écarté, and I +trust that you will pay me the four hundred francs you----" + +"Yes, yes, with great pleasure; I will give them to you this very +evening. When I left Paris, I forgot that trifling debt." + +"But I called on monsieur more than twenty times when he lived on the +fifth floor on Rue d'Enfer, and again on Rue de----" + +"Hush! I know all about that; silence, Monsieur Durosey! Since then, I +have come into my property, and my titles--I will pay you in a moment." + +"Oh! in that case, monsieur le baron may be assured that this will +remain a secret between us." + +Dubourg walked away from Monsieur Durosey and once more looked about for +Chambertin, when that gentleman entered the salon, crying: + +"Come into the garden, everybody; we are going to set off the +fireworks." + +"I have a favor to ask of you," said Dubourg, walking up to him. + +"After the fireworks, monsieur le baron, I shall be entirely at your +service. Be good enough to go to the summer-house; I flatter myself that +you will be able to see as well there as you did before; my wife will +take you there." + +And Chambertin hurried away, with a mischievous air, while Dubourg said +to himself: + +"Parbleu! it's decidedly amusing that he should send me to the +summer-house with his wife." + +He went into the garden and found Madame Chambertin, who remembered the +last pyrotechnic display and was waiting for monsieur le baron for the +second performance. Madame asked nothing better than to go again to the +little summer-house, where they could see so well, and where they had +such comfortable seats; which latter would be most essential, as she had +urged her husband to make the display last as long as possible. + +Bombs were set off, and rockets, and transparencies. But when the moment +arrived for the closing piece, Monsieur Chambertin said to the company +assembled in the garden: + +"Turn toward the summer-house, and look at what comes next; that's where +the surprise is to be." + +Everybody turned in that direction, Monsieur Chambertin gave the signal, +the walls of the summer-house fell away as if by magic, leaving the roof +supported by four pillars, and a lighted match instantly set fire to +four Bengal-lights, which had been secretly placed inside, together with +a transparency on which were these words: _To Baron Potoski, from his +grateful friend Chambertin_. + +This was the surprise which Monsieur Chambertin had been mysteriously +preparing for several days; but he did not expect the surprise that his +friend the baron had in reserve for him: the explosion and the +demolition of the summer-house had taken place so suddenly, that the +couple inside had not even had time to cease their conversation, and it +seemed to all the company to be exceedingly animated. + +The men laughed, the ladies bit their lips to avoid imitating them. +Ménard, who was in the rear of the crowd, called out: + +"Pray explain the transparency!" + +And Monsieur Chambertin was struck dumb. + +All this was the affair of a minute; Dubourg required no longer time to +realize what remained for him to do. He had not a sou, he had found a +creditor, he could expect nothing from his friend Chambertin except a +horsewhipping or a sword-thrust; so it behooved him to leave the house +instanter. + +The Bengal-lights had gone out; Madame Chambertin had fainted, which was +the best thing that she could do. Dubourg took advantage of the smoke +which succeeded the bright light; he jumped down into the garden, lost +himself in the crowd about the summer-house, seized Ménard, who came +running after him, dragged him into a dark path, and ordered him to hold +his tongue at the risk of being murdered. + +At the end of the path was a little gate leading into the fields; +Dubourg opened it and pushed Ménard through, who had no idea where he +was, and fancied that their friend Chambertin's house had caught fire. +His companion locked the little gate and threw away the key. + +"Come," he said, "forward at the double-quick! We have drunk the cup of +pleasure, now we must put ourselves on a strict diet; it will do us +good. Now is the time for us to say: _Non est beatus qui cupida +possidet, sed qui negata non cupit._" + +"Amen!" said Ménard, as he trotted along by his side. + + + + +XVI + +THE IMPROMPTU ACTORS.--AN EVENT WHICH CHANGED THE WHOLE FACE OF AFFAIRS + + +After they had run for more than a league, as if they were pursued, +Ménard, utterly exhausted, stopped, declared that he could hold out no +longer, and dropped on the turf. Dubourg thought that they could safely +halt for a while, so he seated himself beside his companion. + +"Will you kindly tell me now, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, when he +had recovered his breath, "why we are running away like thieves from our +friend Chambertin's, where we were overwhelmed with attentions, +luxuriously quartered, and fed like epicures; where, in a word, we were +treated with the regard we deserve?" + +"My dear Monsieur Ménard, the jug that goes often to the well ends by +being broken or filled, as you choose; and in this case I rather think +both things have happened." + +"What jug are you talking about? what have you broken? I don't +understand you, monsieur le baron." + +"So I see, and I will explain my meaning in another way. Did you notice +that man they called Durosey, who didn't arrive at friend Chambertin's +until this evening?" + +"Yes, monsieur le baron." + +"Do you know who that man is?" + +"I heard it said that he was a retired merchant." + +"Yes, he represented himself as such, the better to deceive me, no +doubt. Did you notice what a forbidding face he had?" + +"I noticed that he looked at you very often, monsieur le baron, with +close attention." + +"Parbleu! I should say as much; and he recognized me. Monsieur Ménard, +that man is nothing else than a disguised Turkish spy, who has been sent +in pursuit of me." + +"Is it possible?" + +"It is well known that I have pleaded the cause of the Greeks at several +courts, and induced more than one prince to take up arms in their +behalf. The Turks have sworn to have my life; this man is one of their +agents, whom I recognized because I have often seen him at +Constantinople; his presence is always followed by some disaster to me; +I am sure that Monsieur Chambertin's house was surrounded by his +confederates. They would have kidnapped me during the night,--and you +too, because it is known that you are travelling with me,--and within a +fortnight our two heads would have adorned the Castle of the Seven +Towers, flanked by a horse's tail, the symbol of the Grand Turk's +might. Tell me, now, whether I was wise to fly!" + +"Mon Dieu!" said Ménard, looking behind him; "I believe that my strength +has come back. Suppose we go on?" + +"No, don't be alarmed, Monsieur Ménard; the rascals have lost our trail +and won't dare to follow us." + +"But how does it happen that Monsieur Chambertin receives as a +guest----" + +"Oh! my poor Ménard, you don't know mankind! With a dozen cashmere +shawls, a collection of pastilles, a box of little bottles of attar of +rose, you can make people do whatever you choose. However, I don't +accuse Chambertin; he may very well have been deceived; but, just as the +fireworks went off, I noticed several evil-looking men; and I at once +determined to fly." + +"You acted very wisely. But our carriage?" + +"I certainly shall not go after it." + +"Nor I. But what about our landlord at Grenoble, who owns it?" + +"He has our post chaise to pay for it." + +"But what are we to travel with hereafter?" + +"With our legs, I fancy. Indeed, when one hasn't a sou to pay for +horses, there's no use in having a post chaise." + +"What's that, monsieur le baron? you haven't any money?" + +"No, my dear Ménard; I lost all that I possessed, this evening. That +Turk's presence confused me; I didn't know what I was doing, and I +played like a fool." + +"That was well done! Luckily, my pupil, Monsieur Frédéric de +Montreville, has the money for our journey, and the only thing for us to +do is to go and find him." + +"How can we possibly rely on Frédéric's having any money. He has just +made a new acquaintance, and new acquaintances, Monsieur Ménard, are +always very expensive; we play the open-handed lover, we deny our +charmer nothing. I am sure that that girl is making him spend money like +water! At his age, a young man doesn't know the value of money, and has +no idea of economy." + +"But, monsieur le baron, I don't quite see how they could spend much +money, living in the woods." + +"You don't see? well, I do! It's first one thing, then another--no end +to the whims. You don't suppose that they have stayed in their little +cabin this whole month, do you? I can safely tell you, now, that +Frédéric proposed to hire an apartment for the girl." + +"But, monsieur le baron, did you not point out to him----" + +"He's old enough to do as he pleases. However, don't get excited; I'll +see him. I'll go alone first, so as not to anger him, and, if he is +willing to listen to me, I'll bring him back. But, meanwhile, we must +live. How much money have you?" + +"About thirty francs." + +"That isn't much; but if we are economical, it will last us some time; +we shall have to live very sparingly; but that will do us good. These +big dinners overheat our blood; it's very unhealthy to eat five or six +rich dishes and drink several kinds of wine every day." + +"Still, monsieur le baron, I am inclined to think that we were both +getting fat at Monsieur Chambertin's." + +"True; but that would have turned out badly for us; simple fare will +check this tendency to corpulence. The pleasures of Capua enervated the +Carthaginians; and Monsieur Chambertin's table would probably have +produced the same effect on us, and I should have been distressed. I +really must resume my incognito." + +"Ah! I agree with you this time, monsieur le baron; for if those Turks +should find you----" + +"That's the reason why I think it wouldn't be prudent to return to +Grenoble, where I might be arrested--I should say, kidnapped by those +cutthroats. Besides, having no money, we should be ill received by our +host, who would claim, I dare swear, that his carriage is worth more +than ours. We will avoid passing through the town, and with your thirty +francs we will take lodgings in some little village." + +"But when that's all gone, monsieur le baron?" + +"Parbleu! then we'll see; there's no use of worrying beforehand. +Frédéric can write to his father." + +"I am afraid monsieur le comte will be angry----" + +"I will write to my aunt." + +"To your aunt, monsieur le baron?" + +"I should say, to my steward. At all events, we will find some way out +of it. Besides, suppose we should groan and moan--would that help +matters at all? So let us make the best of it. Come, it's a superb +night, and we have had a good rest--let's push on. Faith! there's +nothing like travelling on foot, if you want to admire the landscape. +Come, my dear Ménard, summon your courage! Since we have been together, +we have had lots of ups and downs; have you ever seen me mope?" + +"Ah! monsieur le baron, everybody isn't as philosophical as you are." + +"I will train you. Think of the misfortunes of Marius, Hannibal, Prince +Edward; of the poverty of the grand-daughter of Henri IV; of the woes of +Marguerite of Anjou; and of all the other people who have found +themselves in much more difficult positions than ours--and complain +again, if you dare!" + +The travellers resumed their journey. Dubourg was a curious sight in his +full dress, starched ruff, and thin pumps, walking beside Ménard, who +wore silk short-clothes, black stockings, and buckled shoes, and who was +compelled, in that costume, to climb hills, jump ditches, and plod along +over ground that, at the best, was very uneven. Luckily, they had taken +their hats when they went out to see the fireworks, otherwise they would +have had to traverse Dauphiné as if they were calling on their +neighbors. + +At daybreak, they stopped at a peasant's house and obtained breakfast. +Dubourg ordered an omelet and some native wine. They ate their repast +under an arbor, surrounded by domestic animals who came to keep them +company. + +"How pleasant it is in the open air!" said Dubourg; "are all the gilded +halls and antechambers on earth equal to this open country--to the +perfect liberty which is ours at this moment?" + +"It is certain," rejoined Ménard, driving away a big cat that persisted +in putting its paws in his plate, "it is certain that we are entirely at +liberty here,--that there is no suspicion of restraint---- Well, well, +here's the dog now, trying to get my bread!" + +"Well, Monsieur Ménard, every creature must live. In the time of our +first parents, these innocent beasts shared their masters' meals; the +lion ate from the hand of man, and the tiger gambolled at his feet." + +"You must agree, monsieur le baron, that those animals have changed +greatly in their disposition." + +"Never mind; I love everything that recalls those days of innocence. +When I look at this hen walking on our table, and this duck splashing in +the mud at our feet, I fancy that I am living in the Age of Gold. Not +until I feel in my pocket do I realize the delusion." + +Unluckily, the eggs in the omelet were not fresh, and the wine was sour; +Ménard made a wry face at every mouthful and every swallow, while +Dubourg said: + +"I know of no healthier food than an omelet. Whatever country you travel +in, wherever you may be, if there are eggs, you have an omelet! +Everybody knows how to make it; it's a universal dish, the dish of +nature." + +"If only the eggs were fresh!" + +"Faith! this little taste of straw isn't unpleasant; at need, it will +take the place of tarragon. And this wine--at all events, I'll guarantee +that it won't do us any harm." + +"It's infernally sour!" + +"A proof that it's unadulterated." + +Despite all that Dubourg could say to make Ménard approve of the +breakfast, the tutor said, as they left the table: + +"I think that we must go to hunt up Monsieur Frédéric de Montreville." + +And Dubourg said to himself: + +"He'll receive me cordially, when he knows that I have broken the bank +again in less than a month! How in the devil am I to get out of the +scrape? And how am I going to ask him for anything, when he gave it all +to me? I can't go and preach to him--that isn't in my line. Indeed, I +think that I shall have to induce Ménard to come and live in the woods +with me; we will become hermits, and I won't play écarté any more." + +The travellers made a détour round Grenoble, without entering the city. +They halted in a small village, and Ménard spoke again of joining +Frédéric. Dubourg lost his patience, and told him that he would go alone +to Vizille to see what he could learn. He left the village, walked as +far as a small patch of forest, lay down on the grass, slept there all +day, and at night returned to Ménard, holding his handkerchief to his +eyes and sighing as if his heart were broken. + +"Well, well! what in heaven's name has happened to him?" inquired the +tutor, anxiously. + +"The ingrate! the harebrained fool!" + +"Speak, monsieur le baron, I entreat you!" + +"I suspected that he would do some insane thing. He has gone off with +his fair one. They left the forest a fortnight ago." + +"Great heaven! what will monsieur le comte say? what answer shall I make +him, when he asks me what I have done with his son?" + +"You must tell him that you lost him." + +"Do you believe, monsieur le baron, that such an answer will satisfy +him?" + +"Then you can tell him that he lost himself. But be calm, my dear +Ménard. I promise you that we will find Frédéric again. I have friends +in all the courts of Europe; the young man will be restored to us." + +This promise pacified poor Ménard to some extent, and Dubourg continued: + +"Before we consider what to do about him, let us think of ourselves, for +our position is not very splendid. We shall not find resources in this +wretched village; let us go to the nearest town; and, above all things, +my dear Ménard, do try to get rid of that heart-broken look, which will +inspire an exceedingly unfavorable opinion of us in every inn at which +we stop." + +The travellers resumed their journey, and at nightfall arrived at +Voreppe, a small town about two leagues from Grenoble. Dubourg inquired +for the best inn, and went thither with his companion. They entered the +common-room, Dubourg with his head in the air and a determined bearing, +Ménard with downcast eyes and a very modest mien. + +Several guests were talking together in the room, awaiting the supper +hour. + +"Will the gentlemen eat at the table d'hôte?" the servant inquired. + +"Yes, of course," replied Dubourg; "we like company--don't we, my +friend?" + +"Yes, monsieur le ba--yes, my friend," said Ménard, being reminded by a +blow from his friend's elbow that there was to be no more mention of +barons. + +Dubourg listened to what the other guests were saying, but the +conversation was far from interesting; the tradesmen discussed business, +the townspeople talked gossip, and Dubourg failed to discover any +Chambertin to dazzle. He paced the floor of the common-room, jingling +the few copper coins which he still had in his pocket, and halting now +and then in front of Ménard to offer him a pinch of snuff; and Ménard, +for all his depression, looked with unabated respect on the snuff-box +which was held out to him. + +Suddenly a little man of some fifty years of age, in a cinnamon-colored +coat, green breeches, cavalry boots, and a cap with a visor that might +at need serve as an umbrella, entered the room, with the air of one full +of business, and said in a very loud tone: + +"They won't come! they can't come! and my performance has fallen +through. I am desperate! my mind is going!" + +The little man threw himself into a chair, and was instantly surrounded +by all the gossips and guests of the inn. + +"What is it, Monsieur Floridor?" queried the hostess; "have your actors +gone back on you?" + +"Yes, the most necessary and most important ones of the lot: the _jeune +premier_, and the noble father, two talented actors, who would have +completed my troupe. The _jeune premier_ was to come from Cambrai, where +he has played such parts as Colin and Elleviou for twenty years; he is a +man of the most charming, consummate talent. I saw him a month ago, in +_Sargine, or Love's Pupil_, for he has been playing the _ingénus_ and +young lovers for some years. Ah! how delighted I was! an affecting +voice, and a superb figure! a little taller than I am. And in tragic +parts--such fire! such spirit! I wept when I saw him do _Tartufe_. As +for the noble father, he is a most invaluable actor. For thirty years he +has been the delight of Beaugency, and I saw him act at Doyen's, in +Paris, with marvellous success. He takes all sorts of parts--kings, +fathers, tyrants, Cassandras--he can handle anything. He made a +specialty of the _noble fathers'_ rôles only because he lost his teeth, +which does not prevent his displaying plenty of _bite_ in his diction." + +"And why ain't they coming?" + +"Why, indeed! Because Colin has an attack of catarrh, forsooth! and the +noble father, having had a row in a wine shop, is locked up for a +fortnight. Such things never happen to anybody but me. After taking so +much pains to make a pretty theatre out of the old stable, and +succeeding too--for I flatter myself that our theatre is charming: an +orchestra, pit, three boxes, and a gallery--all on the same level, and +tastefully decorated! I would have left the Grenoble theatre out of +sight! The people of this town would have been so delighted! They know +a good thing when they see it, at Voreppe, and, although there's never +been a theatre here, I am sure I should have made a lot of money! I had +already let one box to the justice of the peace, who is admitted gratis +with his family; and the principal men of the town had sent me word that +perhaps they would come!" + +The little man paused at last to take breath and wipe his face. Dubourg, +who had not lost a word of what he said, seated himself in a corner, +evidently meditating some new plan. + +"It is annoying, sure enough," said the innkeeper; "I've ordered a new +dress for my daughter to wear to the play." + +"Annoying, do you say!" repeated Floridor, twisting about on his chair +like one possessed; "why, it is enough to drive one to despair! I would +give a hundred francs if I could replace my two actors, and a hundred +francs is quite a sum, it's equal to one evening's receipts; but, no +matter, I would sacrifice it to be able to open my theatre." + +These words were overheard by Dubourg, who still held aloof, however, +and seemed to pay no heed to what was being said. + +"Ah!" said one of the servants; "I wish I knew how to act! it would just +suit me to be able to earn a hundred francs." + +"I had engaged my two artists for a month, at sixty francs each," said +Floridor; "that's pretty high, but we have to pay for real talent." + +"Can't you get anybody to take their places?" + +"Who, pray? I have made a _tyrant_ of the wigmaker, and a _confidant_ of +the carpenter's apprentice, who has a magnificent voice. I have +persuaded the constable's wife to play the princesses, and I have made +an _ingénue_ of the cooper's widow; those are all I've been able to find +in the town; but they do very well, they're jewels. As for myself, I act +when it's necessary; but, as I have to prompt too, I can't take any long +rôles. I have a well-supplied wardrobe: three Spanish costumes, with +which the last rope-dancer paid his bill at the wine shop; an old +lawyer's gown to make tunics with; two otter-skin caps to serve for +turbans, and some curtains I bought at Grenoble to make into cloaks. We +were to have opened day after to-morrow, with _Phèdre_ and _Le Devin du +Village_. In _Phèdre_, the carpenter was to do Aricie, because we have +only two women; but he's a nice-looking boy, with no beard, and he'd +have done very well. As for the other two _confidants_, Ismène and +Panope, I intended to declaim their rôles from the prompter's box. We +should have given _Le Devin du Village_ without music, but that makes it +all the prettier; the actors speak instead of singing, and it goes very +well; I've seen it given so in many places. What a success we would have +had! My Colin was to do Hippolyte; and my noble father would have been +magnificent as Thésée. The wigmaker was cast for Théramène; the fellow +has his lines at his tongue's end, he doesn't shave a customer that he +doesn't recite 'em; and Hippolyte must needs have the catarrh, and +Thésée get into a row at a wine shop! How am I to get out of the scrape? +Oh! if some great actor from Paris or some foreign country would happen +to stop here--one of those men who travel so much! But they never come +to Voreppe!" + +"Supper is served, messieurs," said the maid-servant. + +"Your trouble won't interfere with your supper, I take it, Monsieur +Floridor," said a tradesman. + +"No, indeed. I shall eat my supper as a matter of habit, but I have no +appetite. This calamity has cut off my arms and legs." + +"But not his tongue," observed Ménard, in an undertone, as he prepared +to take his place at the table; when Dubourg, stalking majestically +forward, halted in front of him and declaimed, waving his right arm +about as if he were trying to swim: + + "'Oui, puisque je retrouve un ami so fidèle, + Ma fortune va prendre une face nouvelle; + Et déjà mon courroux semble s'être adouci + Depuis qu'elle a pris soin de nous rejoindre ici.'"[C] + + [C] Aye, since I find a friend so leal and true, + Methinks my fortune speedily will change; + Even now my wrath seems sensibly allayed, + Since she hath taken steps to join us here. + +Ménard stared at Dubourg in dismay. + +"You have found him?" he said; "who? my pupil? is he going to join us +here?" + +Dubourg trod on Ménard's foot, for he saw that Floridor, instead of +taking his seat at the table, had stopped and was listening to him. He +seized the tutor's arm, and cried: + + "'Est-ce toi, chère Élise? O jour trois fois heureux! + Que béni soit le ciel, qui te rend à mes voeux, + Toi qui, de Benjamin comme moi descendue, + Fus de mes premiers ans la compagne assidue.'"[D] + + [D] Is it thou, O dear Élise? Thrice happy day! + Thank heaven, which doth restore thee to my prayers, + Thee, who, like me, from Benjamin descended, + Wast of my early years the comrade true. + +"Delicious! delicious!" cried Floridor, clapping his hands, while Ménard +rolled his eyes about in amazement, looking for this Élise whom +monsieur le baron addressed; and as he saw no one but the maid-servant, +he asked her if her name was Élise. + +"Is monsieur an actor?" inquired Floridor, walking toward Dubourg, cap +in hand. + +"I, monsieur!" he replied, pretending to be surprised and annoyed +because he had been overheard. "I--I assure you, monsieur--what ground +have you for such an opinion?" he demanded, in a gruff voice, like a +villain of melodrama. + +"What ground!" cried the little man, delighted beyond words, and seizing +Dubourg's hand. "Ah! monsieur, you betrayed yourself just now without +knowing it; but even without that I should have recognized you. That +voice, that carriage, those noble and majestic attitudes! None but an +actor of the first rank combines all these; and you are such a one; it +is useless for you to deny it." + +"I see," said Dubourg, smiling with an air of mock modesty, "that it is +difficult to conceal anything from you. But my companion and I had fully +resolved to retain our incognito." + +"Your companion!" cried the little man, leaping for joy; "can it be that +monsieur is an actor, too?" + +"Unexcelled in tearful rôles, superb in tragedy, and absolutely natural +in comedy," said Dubourg, while Ménard listened with the air of one +listening to a language he does not understand. But Floridor did not +allow him to remain in that benumbed condition; he threw his arms about +Dubourg's neck, he threw his arms about Ménard's neck, and would have +done the same by the maid if somebody had not stopped him. + +"They are sent by heaven!" he cried, rushing about the room like a +madman. "I shall open my theatre! we will play _Phèdre_, we will make +the whole town weep with _Le Devin du Village_!--Master innkeeper, a +bottle of your best wine. I have the honor of inviting to supper the two +artists who are travelling incognito." + +"What does this mean?" Ménard asked Dubourg, in an undertone. + +"It means that we are the two first actors to the King of Poland, that +yonder little magpie has already invited us to supper, and that he is +going to do a great deal more for us; further, that you must support +what I say, and try not to look like an idiot." + +"What, monsieur le baron--you and I pass ourselves off as actors?" + +"Actors are built like other men, Monsieur Ménard; Roscius was admitted +to the presence of Sylla, Garrick is buried beside the kings of England, +Molière was an actor, and none the less a great man; and two of the +great authors of our own time have acted, and sacrificed none of their +merit by so doing." + +"But, monsieur le baron, I have never acted." + +"Nor have I; but that doesn't alarm me." + +"But suppose it should become known, what will people say?" + +"It won't become known, as we are incognito." + +"But I have no memory; I shall never be able to remember a rôle." + +"They'll prompt you." + +"But I am very timid, and I shall never dare to appear in public." + +"When you are rouged and powdered, you'll be as bold as a page." + +"I shall be execrable." + +"We'll make him pay us a high price, and everybody will think we are +superb." + +"But----" + +"Morbleu! there's enough _buts_. Just remember that it's only for three +or four days; it's a little joke that will have no unpleasant +consequences, and will give us the means of waiting for another +remittance. Furthermore, when a man like myself, a Polish nobleman, an +elector palatine, decides to do such a thing, I consider it very strange +that a mere plebeian should presume to remonstrate with him. You will +act with me, or I abandon you to the wrath of the Comte de Montreville, +whose son you will never be able to find without assistance." + +"I'll do it, monsieur le baron." + +"That's very lucky for you!" + +During this little dialogue, Monsieur Floridor had rushed into the next +house, where the wigmaker lived, to tell him that two great actors, +whose names he did not know as yet, but who were sure to be overflowing +with talent, because they were travelling incognito, had arrived at the +Soleil d'Or, and that he proposed to do his utmost to engage them to +appear two or three times in the town. The wigmaker abandoned the town +clerk's wife's hair, which he was engaged in curling, and hurried off to +carry the news to all his customers; the customers told their neighbors, +and the word was passed from house to house, as in the game of scandal. +The town of Voreppe being rather small, all the townspeople knew before +sundown that they had within their walls two dramatic geniuses who were +travelling incognito. + +Monsieur Floridor returned, and they took their places at the table. +Dubourg seated Ménard at his side, so that he could whisper his replies +to him, and the manager took his seat on Dubourg's other side. All the +other guests treated the travellers with marked consideration, because +they saw that Floridor did, and because we often do what we see others +do, without very well knowing why. + +The little manager talked incessantly, Dubourg from time to time +declaimed such passages as came to his mind, and Ménard concentrated his +attention upon his plate. + +"May I not know," said Floridor, "with whom I have the honor of +supping?" + +"We did not intend to make ourselves known," said Dubourg; "but, after +the flattering attentions with which you have honored us, it is +difficult to conceal anything from you. You see in us the two first +actors of Cracow, who are taking advantage of a furlough to travel in +France and perfect ourselves in the French tongue, in which all our +plays are given in Poland; so that our theatre is frequented only by the +most distinguished people of the country--like the Bouffons in Paris." + +"I understand, I understand! and what parts do you play?" + +"Everything, from pantomime to grand opera. My comrade here, Wolowitz, +is the Fleury of Poland, and I make bold to say that I am the Talma. Ah! +if you should see us together in _Les Chasseurs et la Laitière_! but you +don't give opera here, do you?" + +"Pardon me: opéra-comique, without music, to be sure, because we have no +orchestra as yet; but if you will deign to accede to our prayers, how +happy our town will be to see two such artists as you!" + +"It is true that we are terribly popular in Poland! Why, when we play +anywhere, they always throw us something--it never fails.--Do you +remember Smolensk, Wolowitz? We had given _Le Déserteur_ and _Le Chien +de Montargis_. You played the assassin. I say, do you remember the +sensation we produced there?" + +Wolowitz did not reply, because he had not yet learned his name; but +Dubourg kicked him, under the table, and made him raise his head, +whereupon he replied, still eating: + +"Yes, monsieur le baron." + +"You see, he continues to call me the _baron_," said Dubourg; "he +imagines he is still on the stage." + +Another kick informed Ménard that he had made a blunder, and he muttered +in Dubourg's ear: + +"Tell me your name, then; you can't expect me to guess it." + +"When people saw on the bill-board: _Boleslas and Wolowitz_," continued +Dubourg, with a glance at Ménard, "the theatre was always crowded to +suffocation, and we staggered under the wreaths that were thrown to us." + +"Oh! you'll get some here," said Floridor; "we will throw 'em to you. +I've had a dozen made on purpose to have thrown on my actors' heads. You +shall have verses too--quatrains; I've got all those things." + +"You are right; they always have a good effect, they flatter the artist +and dazzle the audience." + +"Ah! Monsieur Boleslas, may I hope that you and your companion will +consent to give us a few performances?" + +Dubourg did not consent at once; they had made a vow, he said, not to +act in any French theatre. Floridor urged them, implored them, and +ordered a fresh bottle of wine. Ménard was touched by the supper and the +little manager's compliments, and when they left the table he was ready +to promise to play any part he was asked to take; but Dubourg did not +yield so readily, because he desired to obtain a high price. Floridor +did not leave his side, he was ready to kneel at his feet; he would +make any sacrifice, he said, to open his theatre with such notable +artists, and he finally offered them a hundred francs for four +performances, which was a fabulous sum for acting in a stable. Dubourg +surrendered, declaring that he did it solely to oblige him. + +The little man was beside himself with joy; he instantly prepared three +posters, which would be displayed in the town on the morrow, announcing +to the people thereof that Messieurs Boleslas and Wolowitz, famous +Polish actors, were to appear at their theatre. + +"We should like to open with _Phèdre_ or _Le Devin du Village_," said +Floridor. + +"Oh! bless my soul! it's a matter of indifference to us," replied +Dubourg; "whatever you choose." + +"Then we will begin with that." + +"Very well, I will do Phèdre." + +"Phèdre? do you mean to say that you play female parts too?" + +"Oh, no! I meant Hippolyte. Wolowitz will make a glorious Thésée." + +"Very good. For the _Devin_ I only need a Colin." + +"I'll undertake it. In four days we will be ready." + +"Four days--that's rather too long." + +"We must have a little rest." + +"All right, four days it is. You will be announced to-morrow. Have you +any wardrobe?" + +"No; for we had no idea of acting." + +"No matter; I will see that you have costumes." + +With that, Floridor left our friends, and they went to bed, Dubourg +laughing over this latest adventure, and Ménard murmuring: + +"If monsieur le baron does it, why shouldn't I do it?" + +When he woke the next morning, poor Ménard could not believe that he was +really going to play Thésée; but Dubourg appeared, book in hand, and +gave him his rôle, which the little manager had already sent, with the +information that there would be a rehearsal at noon. + +"Bah!" said Dubourg; "there aren't a hundred lines in your part. What's +that to you, who have learned Horace and Virgil and so many other +authors by heart?" + +"That's all very well; but I have passed my life learning them, while I +have only three days to commit this to memory." + +"Don't be afraid, I'll answer for everything; besides, there's a +prompter." + +"That's true; I must depend on him." + +"As long as you know your first speech, that's all that's necessary." + +"Oh! as to that, I'm not at all alarmed: + + "'La fortune à mes voeux cesse d'être opposée, + Madame, et dans vos bras met----'" + +"Bravo! you say it like an angel." + +"It's the curse that bothers me." + +"See that you gesticulate enough, and it will be all right." + +At midday, Monsieur Floridor came to escort them to the theatre, where +the rest of the troupe was waiting for them. The aspect of the little +hall, which they reached through a dovecote, where the box-office was +located, amused Dubourg mightily, while Ménard collided with two old +hogsheads which did duty as mountains. + +The troupe manifested the greatest respect for the two new-comers, who +rehearsed book in hand. Dubourg did not say a word that the others did +not exclaim: + +"How well that was declaimed! what talent!" + +It was the same with Ménard; and the tutor, bewildered by the applause +that was lavished upon him, was persuaded that he possessed a hitherto +unsuspected talent for acting. + +"Do you take snuff while you are acting?" queried Floridor. + +"Why not? I take the part of a king, and the King of Prussia took snuff; +witness that box, which----" + +"In Poland," interposed Dubourg, "we take as much of it as we please on +the stage; it's a recognized thing; indeed, it's a matter of tradition +in many rôles." + +"How glad I am!" said the constable's wife, who played Phèdre; "I didn't +dare to take it when I was the princess." + +"In that case," said the carpenter's apprentice, "I'll put a little quid +in my mouth when I play Aricie, as Monsieur Boleslas deigns to allow +it." + +"Whatever you please; great artists indulge in innumerable whims." + +"_Non est magnum ingenium, sine mixtura dementiæ_," observed Ménard. + +"Do you hear him? that's Polish," said the manager to his troupe. + +Three days were occupied with rehearsals; at last, the day of the +performance arrived. Ménard knew only his first speech by heart; but he +knew that very well, and Dubourg had told him that that was enough. The +latter did not know a word of his part, but he was not at all disturbed. +On the morning of the performance, he took care to secure the hundred +francs which Floridor had agreed to pay, saying that it was the custom +in Poland. The little manager counted out the sum, and Dubourg put it in +his pocket. + +The costumes they were to wear in _Phèdre_ were brought to the inn. + +"Don't we dress at the theatre?" Dubourg asked the manager. + +"We have no dressing-rooms, so everybody dresses at home; but the +weather is fine, and there's no inconvenience in that." + +"Do you mean that I must walk through the town dressed as Hippolyte?" + +"The theatre is only a few steps from the inn, and you can play the part +in boots, as Hippolyte is a hunter." + +"True." + +"In default of a bow, which we haven't, you will carry an old musket, +which I have had brought here for you; the ramrod will represent the +arrows." + +"That will do very well." + +"As for the wig, I think you will be pleased; as Hippolyte must have +hair falling over his neck, I have prepared a Louis XIV wig, which will +fill the bill perfectly." + +The manager took his leave, and Dubourg was assisted to dress by Ménard, +who, as he did not appear till the third act, had plenty of time for his +own toilet. Dubourg retained his black trousers, in which were the +hundred francs; he thought it best to have the money about him, in case +of accident. Over them he drew a very large pair of nankeen trousers, +donned a white piqué waistcoat, and threw over his shoulders an ample +cloak covered with rabbit skins, representing the skin of a tiger; then +he put on his wig, daubed his face with rouge, took the musket in one +hand and his handkerchief in the other, and betook himself to the +theatre, urging Ménard to make haste, so that he would not be late for +his _entrée_. + +The auditorium was full, which meant receipts of about eighty francs. +Floridor was in ecstasies; he ran to and fro from the prompter's box to +the stage, in full view of the audience; for there was no passage under +the stage, and the sheet which did duty as a curtain was hung on a rod +and drawn aside, like the curtain of a magic lantern. + +Dubourg arrived, bathed in perspiration, because the cloak covered with +rabbit skins was very heavy and the wig was immense. The actors uttered +a cry of admiration when he appeared. + +"How handsome he is!" could be heard on all sides; "how well he +represents Hippolyte!" + +"Ah! I shall play Phèdre by inspiration!" exclaimed the constable's +wife, with a passionate glance at Dubourg. But as Phèdre had a slight +squint, and an enormous nose covered with snuff, Hippolyte did not +return that amorous glance. He drew the curtain aside to look into the +hall; when his face appeared, shouts arose on all sides; the ladies +thought he was a lion. Thereupon Floridor came forth from his box, and +addressed the audience thus: + +"I told you that you would be pleased, enchanted!"--and he applauded +with all his might, the spectators followed suit, and Dubourg bowed with +majestic dignity, then retired behind the curtain. + +Everybody was ready. Phèdre had a gown _à la_ Mary Stuart, a mob-cap, +and was covered with _mouches_ to the end of her nose. OEnone, to give +herself a malignant aspect, was dressed in red and black, because +Dubourg had told her that such a costume indicated a woman of character. +The carpenter, on the contrary, had sacrificed a nascent whisker in +order to represent Aricie; he was dressed in a white cambric gown, with +a garland of roses in his hair, and he imitated a woman's voice +reasonably well, although he constantly chewed tobacco. + +The wigmaker, who was cast for the part of Théramène, wore a François I +wig and a Spanish costume, with his National Guards sabre for a sword. +The rôles of the other two confidants were to be read by Floridor from +the prompter's box. Only Thésée was missing, and he did not appear; but +he was not to come on till the third act. + +"Let us begin, the audience is growing restive," said the manager; "we +mustn't keep them waiting any longer. Thésée will certainly be on hand +for the third act." + +"It is undoubtedly his costume that detains him," said Dubourg; "he's +very particular about having his costume just what it should be, and he +never puts in a pin except in the way tradition demands." + +The manager, who was also prompter, stage manager, and scene shifter, +struck the traditional three blows, then drew the curtain, which at +first disclosed only half of the stage; but with the assistance of two +spectators, who came on the stage, he succeeded in drawing it entirely +aside. Thereupon he went down into his box, with a candlestick in his +hand, and the play began. + +When Dubourg stalked upon the stage, majestically enveloped in his +cloak, the audience emitted a murmur of surprise, which was not +precisely admiration; for, with his huge wig, the rouge trickling down +his cheeks, and his old musket over his shoulder, Dubourg was far from +attractive to look upon. Judging from the head they had seen a moment +before, they had expected to see a magnificent man of lofty stature; +but, on the contrary, the cloak seemed to crush him, and Théramène, +being very tall, made him appear even shorter than he was. + +"He's a Pole," said the spectators. + +"He's terribly ugly," said the young women; "but he is said to have +great talent." + +Dubourg rolled his eyes in terrifying fashion, to give character to his +face; while the unlucky Théramène, whose head touched the flies, was +obliged to stoop, so that his wig should not sweep the spiders' webs +from the ceiling of the palace. + +Dubourg, who was not at all timid, shouted his lines like a deaf man, +and gesticulated so wildly that, before the end of the first scene, +Théramène had been struck twice by him. At the third blow, the wigmaker +began to lose his temper, and muttered between his teeth: + +"Sacrebleu! look out what you're doing! if you go on like this, I shall +be like a baked apple before the end of the play." + +But the audience were delighted with his spirited acting; they applauded +and cried _bravo_! Dubourg continued as he had begun, but not without +alarming one woman in the pit who, being singularly affected by his +contortions, left the place. + +The first act went very well; but the audience manifested some little +surprise when, instead of seeing Panope appear, they heard the prompter +reading the rôle in his box; but, as it was not long, they let it pass, +especially as Floridor, turning toward the pit, explained: + +"Messieurs, the rôles of confidants are almost always given in this way +in towns of the third order." + +But Thésée had not arrived. + +"What in the devil can he be doing at the inn?" said Dubourg; "do you +suppose he can't put on his costume?" + +"Impossible!" said the manager; "I sent him a superb yellow tunic, and +trousers of the same stuff; for his diadem he has a turban of the same +color, that I use in _Mahomet_." + +"Oho! so Thésée will be all yellow, eh?" + +"That's traditional, and tradition is never wrong. But let's go on with +the second act; we must hope that he will turn up." + +They began the second act, which did not go so well as the first. +Aricie, in a moment of passion, spat her tobacco into Hippolyte's face, +whereupon the latter kicked her viciously just as her lover said to her: + + "'Modérez des bontés dont l'excès m'embarrasse!'"[E] + + [E] Be not so kind to me; your excessive kindness embarrasses me. + +"That will teach you to be more careful," said Dubourg. + +"If I wasn't a woman, I'd answer you in another way," retorted the +carpenter, shaking his fist at him. + +"I advise you to keep quiet!" + +Floridor hurried from his box to reconcile Hippolyte and Aricie; he +succeeded at last in pacifying them, and the performance continued. But, +a moment later, Dubourg, being on the stage with Phèdre, waited for the +prompter to give him his cue; but the cue did not come, because the +prompter could not see. + +"Snuffers!" he cried; "give me some snuffers!" + +"What a stupid!" said Phèdre, and she stooped and took the candle, and +gracefully snuffed it with her fingers. "There, my boy, that's the way +we do when we have any instinct." And she replaced the candlestick in +the box. + +This little interlude was not agreeable to the audience, who had already +begun to murmur at the quarrel between Hippolyte and the princess; and +one enthusiast, who was more exacting than the rest because he had +occasionally attended the theatre at Grenoble, threw a raw potato, +which struck Phèdre in the left eye. The constable's wife finished the +scene in tears, and the second act came to an end at the same time, with +indications that a storm was brewing. + +Floridor, who came out of his box after each act, ran on to the stage to +console Phèdre, who declared that she would not act any more. He tried +to restore the courage of his actors by assuring them that the later +acts would make amends for everything; he relied especially on the début +of Thésée, who had not yet appeared, and to whom he looked to produce a +prodigious effect. But Thésée did not arrive, and the anxiety became +general. + +"What can have happened to him? I'll run back to the inn," said Dubourg, +"for his delay begins to surprise me; I'll bring him back with me at +once." + +"Make haste!" cried Floridor; "for if we keep the audience waiting, +everything will be hopelessly ruined." + +Let us see why Ménard, who was so scrupulously exact in everything he +had to do, had not arrived at the theatre. After Dubourg left him, he +turned his attention to his toilet; and that was no small matter to a +man who had never been to a ball, had never disguised himself, and had +worn the same costume for thirty years. Ménard scrutinized the tunic, +the Turkish trousers, and the turban, in every part; he had some +difficulty in making up his mind to put on those yellow garments and to +besmear his _venerable_ cheeks with rouge; he had to remind himself +constantly of Roscius, Garrick, and Molière, else he would have +abandoned the idea of acting. But he had promised, his word was pledged; +monsieur le baron, a noble Pole, set the example, and he must needs +adapt himself to circumstances. + +After an infinitude of trouble, he succeeded at last in arraying himself +in the costume of Thésée. He looked at himself in the mirror, smiled at +himself, and concluded that he looked very well; he kindled his own +ardor by reflecting that he was about to represent the King of Athens, +repeated his lines to himself, especially his first speech, then left +his room to go to the theatre, saying to himself: + +"Thus the Fates decree!" + +At that very moment, a traveller had arrived at the inn in a comfortable +carriage. Everything about him denoted a man of wealth and of high rank. +The innkeeper made haste to ask what he desired, and the traveller, who +was a short, thin, old man, stern of face, inquired curtly what +travellers had recently passed through the town, and, on receiving the +landlord's reply, exclaimed: + +"Shall I never learn what has become of them?" + +"Will monsieur have supper?" inquired the innkeeper. + +"No; I am not hungry. Let my horses be fed. I may go away again very +soon. Give me a room where I can rest quietly for a few moments." + +The traveller's tone did not invite conversation. The innkeeper at once +took a light and escorted the new arrival to the stairs. As they were +going up, they came face to face with Ménard, who was descending with +majestic mien, declaiming: + + "'La fortune à mes voeux cesse d'être opposée, + Madame, et dans mes bras met----'" + +The little old man raised his eyes when he heard Ménard's voice; he +gazed at him for some time in surprise, and exclaimed at last: + +"Can it be possible that it is Monsieur Ménard whom I see in such a +costume as this!" + +Ménard looked at the traveller, and was transfixed with amazement when +he recognized the Comte de Montreville, Frédéric's father, whose eyes +gleamed with anger, and who, taking Thésée by the arm, marched him back +abruptly to his room, planted himself in front of him, and began sternly +to question him. + +"What does all this mean, Monsieur Ménard? what is the meaning of that +turban on your head, and this yellow costume that makes you look like an +escaped lunatic?" + +"Monsieur le comte, yellow is not a color to be scorned; in China, the +marks of highest distinction consist of yellow waistcoats and peacocks' +feathers." + +"Morbleu! monsieur, never mind the Chinese, but answer my question: why +do I find you rigged out like this?" + +"Because I am to play Thésée this evening, monsieur le comte." + +"You, play Thésée!" + +"Yes, monsieur le comte; in _Phèdre_, which is to be given at the local +theatre." + +"What! monsieur le précepteur, you propose to act?" + +"Why not, monsieur le comte? circumstances---- Besides, Roscius was +entertained by Sylla, Garrick is buried at Westminster, and Molière----" + +"Do you consider yourself on a level with those men, monsieur? Do you +suppose that I sent you with my son, with the idea of your being an +actor? Was it with that end in view that you undertook this journey? Did +you think, as well as Frédéric, that you could deceive me for long? In a +fortnight, you spent the eight thousand francs I handed you----" + +"We didn't spend them, monsieur le comte----" + +"Silence, monsieur! I was willing to forgive that first escapade; I sent +you more money, and I learned that, instead of continuing your journey, +you had remained at Grenoble, and that my son was making the tour of +Europe in Dauphiné." + +"It's a superb country, monsieur le comte." + +"I left Paris; I was determined to find out for myself what detained you +in this neighborhood. I went to Grenoble, and failed to find you; I +sought you in vain in that vicinity. And at last I find you here, in +this absurd costume! I did not expect this, I admit.--But my son--where +is he? is he acting, also?" + +"No, monsieur le comte." + +"Where is he, then?--speak!" + +"He is lost, monsieur le comte." + +"Lost! What do you mean? Answer me, monsieur!" + +"That is to say, monsieur le comte, he has gone astray." + +"Remember, monsieur, that I intrusted my son to you." + +"We will find him, monsieur le comte. Monsieur le Baron Potoski is going +to send couriers to all the European courts." + +"Who is this Baron Potoski?" + +"He's a Polish nobleman, a very intelligent young man, Palatine of Rava +and Sandomir, who has a magnificent castle in the Krapach Mountains, +which he heats with gas." + +"Upon my word, Monsieur Ménard, I believe they have made you an absolute +idiot!" + +"No, monsieur le comte; I know what I am saying, and I am telling the +simple truth." + +"Where did you find this baron?" + +"We found him on the road, near Paris; he overturned our carriage, by +the way, and I was thrown into a ditch. But monsieur your son recognized +Baron Potoski as one of his friends; so we joined him in King +Stanislas's berlin, where I sat in the seat once occupied by the +Princess of Hungary; and we have travelled with the baron ever since." + +The Comte de Montreville paced the floor, stamping angrily, and looking +up at the ceiling in despair. Ménard cowered in a corner, with his +turban in his hand, afraid to move. After making the circuit of the room +three or four times, the count returned to him. + +"What has become of this baron?" + +"He is playing Hippolyte, monsieur le comte; he is on the stage at this +moment, and---- But, stay, here he is himself, monsieur le comte." + +At this moment, in fact, Dubourg rushed into the room, crying: + +"Come on, Thésée; we're waiting for you, to begin the third act." + +But he stopped short when he saw the count, who exclaimed: + +"I was sure of it! It's that scamp Dubourg!" + +Ménard opened his eyes at that, and Dubourg contented himself with +bowing low to Frédéric's father. + +"Come, Monsieur Ménard, follow me," continued the count; "take off that +costume, which you should never have put on, and let us leave this place +at once." + +The unhappy tutor did not wait for the order to be repeated; in an +instant, he had cast aside the tunic and trousers; then he resumed his +own clothes, took his hat, and stood humbly before the count, who said +to Dubourg: + +"As for you, monsieur, whose company has been so profitable to my son, +remember that if I do not find Frédéric soon, my wrath will fall on +you.--Come, Monsieur Ménard." + +A moment later, the count and the tutor were in the carriage, from which +the horses had not been taken; and they drove rapidly away from the inn +toward Grenoble, where the count hoped to obtain news of his son. + +Meanwhile, Dubourg, somewhat bewildered by what had taken place, +considered what was likely to happen to him; the audience was waiting +for Thésée, without whom the play could not go on, and the good people +of Voreppe seemed disposed to be unamiable when they were dissatisfied. +On the other hand, he had received from the manager his own pay and +Ménard's; and now that Ménard had gone, how was their agreement to be +kept? + +While he reflected, a confused noise arose in the street. Dubourg ran to +the window and saw Floridor approaching with several of the spectators, +who were swearing and making a great uproar, declaring that the two +Poles should act or they would thrash them. + +"They will act," cried Floridor; "they will act, messieurs; I paid them +in advance." + +Dubourg realized the danger that threatened him; he hesitated whether he +should give back the money, whether he should excuse himself by +disclosing his colleague's departure, or whether he should leave the +manager to settle with his audience. The last plan was the most +agreeable to him; he was afraid of being beaten, even if he did return +the money; moreover, he considered that his performance of Hippolyte was +well worth what he had received. So he ran to another window, looking on +the open country, and, hearing the crowd enter the innyard, he no longer +wavered; he jumped down into the sorrel, picked himself up, wrapped +himself in his cloak, and ran across the fields as if the whole town +were at his heels. + +The count and Ménard soon arrived at Grenoble, and alighted at the inn +where our three travellers had sojourned, and which the tutor had +pointed out to the count at his request. On the way, he had questioned +Ménard closely concerning his son, and the replies he obtained satisfied +him that it was nothing more than an amourette which detained Frédéric +in that neighborhood; so that he was a little more at ease, having no +doubt that his presence would suffice to bring his son to his senses. + +When they reached the inn, Ménard had a scene with the landlord on the +subject of the char-à-bancs which had been let to him and Dubourg. The +landlord also spoke of Dubourg, saying that a creditor of the pretended +Baron Potoski had come to Grenoble in search of him, and was now on his +trail, meaning to have him arrested. + +Poor Ménard had nothing to say; he was utterly overwhelmed when he +learned that the man whom he had believed to be a Polish nobleman had +done nothing but make sport of him ever since they had travelled +together. The Comte de Montreville put an end to the innkeeper's talk by +paying him what he demanded. They slept at Grenoble, the count proposing +to go with Ménard the next day to the place where he had said that he +last saw Frédéric. + +But the next morning, as they were preparing to start, Ménard uttered a +joyful exclamation, saying: + +"Here he is, monsieur le comte; the lamb returns to the fold, the son to +his father. Here is your son; let us kill the fatted calf!" + +Frédéric was, in fact, entering the innyard at that moment, but he was +very far from suspecting that he would find his father there. + +The count hastened downstairs, followed by Ménard; he walked toward his +son, with a stern expression, and the young man hung his head and seemed +stricken dumb when he saw who was before him. + +"I have found you at last, monsieur," said the count; "I have heard of +your behavior, I have seen your boon companion, I have learned that your +travels have been confined to a miserable village and a forest near by, +where you consider, doubtless, that you have acquired sufficient +knowledge of the world. But I will abstain from reproaching you; I +deserve reproach myself for giving you such a companion as monsieur. Let +us forget it all, and return to Paris." + +These last words went to Frédéric's heart; he had endured bravely his +father's reproaches, but now he became confused, seemed to be deeply +distressed, glanced behind him, and stammered a request for a delay of a +day or two. But the count pretended not to hear, and said in a harsh +tone: + +"I am waiting for you, my son." + +The carriage was ready; what was he to do? How could he disobey his +father? Frédéric trembled with agitation; he was still hesitating; but +the count took him by the hand and led him toward the carriage, and he +dared not resist. He had had no time for reflection before he was +already at some distance from Grenoble. He put his head out of the +window and gazed in the direction of Vizille; he heaved a profound sigh, +his eyes filled with tears, as he thought of Sister Anne, and he said to +himself again and again: + +"Poor child! what will she think?" + + + + +XVII + +THE JOYS OF LOVE LAST BUT A MOMENT, THE SORROWS OF LOVE ENDURE THROUGH +LIFE + + +Why does the love of a month bear so little resemblance to the love of a +day? why is the love of a year still less passionate than that of a +month? why are we so indifferent to the enjoyment of that which we +possess without any obstacles, and why does our enjoyment sometimes +cease altogether when we possess what we have ardently desired? It is +because everything passes away in this world, where we ourselves are +simply birds of passage; it is because men who are greedy of pleasure +are always seeking new forms of pleasure, and to many of them love is +simply a diversion. But you will say to me, perhaps: "I have been +married three years, and I love my wife as dearly as I did the first +day;" or: "My lover has adored me for six months, and he is more in love +than ever." I have no doubt of it; there are exceptions to every rule, +and everyone can invoke them in his favor; and, furthermore, I do not +say that love vanishes; I mean simply that it changes its hue; and, +unhappily, the last variations have not the splendor, the lustre, the +charm, of the original color. + +Frédéric still loved the pretty mute, beyond question; but he had been +living with her in the woods for three weeks, and it began to seem a +little monotonous to him. The great fault of lovers is to yield too +freely to the intoxication of passion in the first days of their +happiness. They are like those gluttons who go to the table with a +tremendous appetite, and who eat so fast that they are filled to +repletion before the repast is half served. + +Sister Anne felt none of this ennui; she was happier and more loving +with Frédéric than ever. As a general rule, women love more truly than +men, and, moreover, the unfortunate orphan was no ordinary woman; to +her, Frédéric was the whole earth, the universe. Since she had known +him, her intelligence had awakened, her mind had developed; she had +learned to think, to reflect, to form desires, to fear, and to hope; a +thousand new sensations had made her heart beat fast. Before she knew +what love was, her life had been only a dream, but Frédéric had roused +her from it. + +When she saw that he was depressed and preoccupied, she redoubled her +attentions and caresses; she would lead him into the woods, and hide +behind a bush or a clump of trees; then, suddenly appearing, would rush +into his arms; and her childlike grace heightened the sweet expression +of her features. + +When night came, they returned to the garden of the cottage. Sister +Anne, alert and light of foot, prepared in a twinkling their evening +meal, which they ate as soon as old Marguerite had gone to bed. The dumb +girl gathered fruit, brought milk and rye bread, then seated herself +beside Frédéric, close against him, and selected for him what seemed to +her the finest and best morsels. When her lover spoke, she listened in +rapture; one could see that Frédéric's words echoed in her heart. Once +he sang a love song, and the girl listened without moving a muscle, as +if she feared to lose a note, then motioned to him to sing it again. +Since then, her greatest joy had been to hear him sing; he had a sweet +and flexible voice, and she would gladly have passed the whole day +listening to him. + +Thus did Sister Anne seek to enchain the man she loved. It was not the +tactics of a coquette--it was love, pure and simple, and nothing else; +whereas in the manoeuvres of a coquette there is not the faintest +trace of that sentiment. + +Why, then, fools that we are, do we allow ourselves to be caught in the +nets of the one, and repay with cold disdain the sincere love of the +other? Because the coquette has the art to keep us in suspense; when she +sees that we are well caught, she plays the cruel; if we seem a little +cool, she excites us by giving us some cause of jealousy; if we seem +overconfident, her mockery arouses our fears; if we are disgusted and +ready to turn our back, she becomes tender, sentimental, passionate, and +with a word brings us back to her feet. These constant changes do not +give the heart time to grow cold. I was on the point of comparing us men +to the epicures whose appetites are sharpened by a variety of dishes, +but I refrain; you would think that I had studied the art of love in the +_Cuisinier Royal_. + +For several days, Frédéric had taken to making short excursions in the +neighborhood. Sister Anne was alarmed at first; but he was away only a +little while, and her fears vanished. Frédéric was beginning to think of +the future, of his father. What would the Comte de Montreville say, if +he knew that his son was living in the woods with a village girl? That +question frequently disturbed Frédéric's repose, and as the days passed +it recurred with increasing frequency. + +Sometimes he said to himself: + +"If father should see her, it would be impossible for him not to love +her. But would he accept her as his son's wife? No, that is not to be +expected; the Comte de Montreville is not in the least romantic; he is +proud; he loves wealth, because he knows that money always adds to the +estimation in which one is held; so there is no hope that he will allow +his son to marry a penniless village girl." + +To be sure, he could act without his father's consent; but, in that +case, he must renounce his fortune, turn his talents to account, and +work for his living; in any event, he must leave the woods, for he was +beginning to realize that it is absurd for a young man to turn his back +on the world at twenty-one; that men are made for society; and that the +being in love with a pretty woman is no reason for burying one's self +alive with her in the depths of a forest. + +These arguments assumed greater force from day to day; especially when +he was away from Sister Anne, he abandoned himself to such reflections, +and his absences became longer every day. The poor child groaned in +secret; she counted the minutes that she spent without her lover; she +ran down into the valley to watch for his coming, and she pouted--oh! so +sadly!--when he had been long absent; but she was so overjoyed to see +him again, that her dejection soon passed away; she forgot all her +anxieties when she held him to her heart. + +A month had passed. Dubourg and Ménard had not returned to inquire +concerning his plans, and he was greatly surprised. He did not know, as +we do, that his two travelling companions were at that time installed +under their friend Chambertin's roof, where that surprise in the way of +fireworks was being prepared, which disclosed to their host what you +already know, but what he did not know, even after the event, so they +say, because his wife convinced him that he had seen nothing but fire. + +So that Frédéric was at a loss to understand the indifference of his +friends, especially of Ménard. + +"Something new must have happened to them," he said to himself. "Dubourg +has probably performed some further crazy exploit. I did wrong to trust +him with all the money I possessed." + +The invariable result of his reflections was that he must go to +Grenoble, to find out what those gentlemen were doing. But to join them +after saying to Dubourg that he would never leave those woods again, +that he had abandoned forever a false and wicked world, all of whose +pleasures were not equal to the tranquil life of a cottage--that was +most embarrassing, and that was why Frédéric could not make up his mind +to go to the town; for a man often chooses to persevere in an act of +folly rather than admit that he is wrong. + +Meanwhile, Frédéric's absolute idleness had become a heavy burden to +him; with the best will in the world, one cannot talk twenty-four hours +at a stretch to a pretty woman, and the poor girl was unhappy because +she saw that her lover was melancholy and often sighed. At last, one +fine evening, Frédéric, finding that he could endure it no longer, said +to her: + +"To-morrow, at daybreak, I shall go to Grenoble, to learn something +about my friends." + +As if struck by an unforeseen blow, the girl did not move for an +instant, then her bosom heaved, and two streams of tears gushed from her +eyes. She pointed to the road to the town, then to herself, as if to +say: + +"And me? are you going to leave me?" + +The poor child was unable, in order to detain her lover, to resort to +the sweet, loving words and entreaties which it is so hard to resist. +But how expressive her gestures were, and how eloquent her eyes! one had +but to glance at them to read all her thoughts. + +"I will return," said Frédéric, "I promise you; I will return, and I +shall never love anyone but you." + +These words at once allayed Sister Anne's grief, for she did not doubt +her lover's word. Remember, mesdames, that Sister Anne did not know the +world--a very painful knowledge sometimes, since it teaches us to +renounce the illusions of the heart. + +The evening passed sadly enough; for, although she did not doubt that he +would return soon, the idea of her friend's departure was very cruel to +that glowing heart, upon which love had bestowed an unalloyed happiness +which she had thought would endure to the end of her life. Frédéric did +all that he could to comfort her; but by giving fresh proofs of his love +a man inspires greater love than ever. Surely, then, that is not the +best way to lessen the pain of a separation; but it is the way that is +usually employed. + +The dawn was a gloomy one in the eyes of the young orphan. Can that be a +pleasant day which is to part us from all that we love best? Frédéric +climbed the hill to the road, holding the poor girl's trembling hand in +his. There, having repeated his promises and bade her a most +affectionate farewell, he rode away and vanished from his sweetheart's +sight. + +A heavy weight settled down upon the girl's heart. She could not see +Frédéric, but still she stood there, still she sought him with her eyes. +Suddenly she turned them upon her immediate surroundings; a groan +escaped her, and she fell on her knees at the foot of an old oak, which +she kissed with profound respect. Poor child! she was on the very spot +where her mother had died while waiting for her father! She recognized +the spot, and, clasping her hands, prayed fervently, and commended +herself to her mother. + +Sister Anne was in the habit of going several times a year to pray by +the old oak, near which the unhappy Clotilde had breathed her last; but +she had never been there with Frédéric. On that day they had climbed +that hill, over which ran the road to the town, and Sister Anne, +absorbed by her grief, had not noticed it. + +Poor child! what melancholy presentiment oppresses your heart? You think +of your mother's fate, and say to yourself: + +"Shall I be as unhappy as she was?" + +But she must needs return to the cabin; old Marguerite might need her +attention. She walked slowly down the hillside, sighing as she looked +back at the old oak. There he had parted from her, and there, as her +mother had done, she would come every day to await his return. + +She returned to her cabin, her goats, and her woods; she resumed her +ordinary habits and occupations. But everything was changed in her eyes; +the woods seemed gloomy to her; wherever she went, she was oppressed by +ennui. Her garden no longer had any charm for her, her home was like a +desert. Frédéric embellished everything, and Frédéric was not there! +Before she knew him, her eyes looked with pleasure upon things that she +now viewed with indifference; and yet, the things themselves had not +changed; but she had lost peace of mind and repose, and nothing looked +to her as it did before. + +Frédéric had not said how many days he would be absent, and the girl +hoped to see him soon; she did not dream that he had found his father +at Grenoble, and that the Comte de Montreville was at that moment taking +his son with him to Paris. + +Each day, Sister Anne went to the hilltop with her goats, and her eyes +were constantly fixed on the road to the town; she sought Frédéric +there, even as poor Clotilde had sought her husband. She amused herself +by tracing her lover's name on the ground with a stick; that was all +that he had taught her, but she had practised writing the name so often +with him that she had succeeded in writing it legibly. + +Several days passed, and Frédéric did not return. Sister Anne still +hoped, because she could not believe that her lover would break his +promise; and every morning, as she went up the hill, she said to +herself: + +"To-day I shall certainly come down with him." + +Vain hope! she must needs return alone once more to her cabin, to that +abode whence repose had fled since love had crossed the threshold. + +But a new sentiment diverted her thoughts from her sorrow. Sister Anne +bore within her a pledge of her love for Frédéric; she was enceinte, but +had not yet tried to understand the change that she observed in herself. +In her simplicity, it had not occurred to her that she might be a +mother; but that thought suddenly came into her mind. Thereupon an +unfamiliar joy took possession of her heart; she abandoned herself in +ecstasy to that newborn hope. She would have a child--a child by +Frédéric! It seemed to her that he must love her more than ever. The +thought filled her heart with joy. To be a mother! what bliss! and what +pleasure to be able to tell Frédéric! The girl leaped and ran about +through the woods; in her excitement, she did innumerable foolish +things; she looked at herself in the brook and in the fountain; she was +proud to be a mother, and would have been glad that people should see it +when they looked at her. + +Poor child! whose every action manifests your perfect innocence--enjoy +to the utmost this sentiment newborn in your heart! That, at all events, +will never grow less. + +But the days passed, and Frédéric did not return. Sister Anne was +certain that she was to be a mother, and she could not tell her lover +the joyful news! There can be no pleasure without pain; hers was +poisoned by the anxiety she felt at the non-appearance of the being whom +she adored; and every day the old oak was a silent witness of her sighs +and her tears. + + + + +XVIII + +THE GREAT BEAST + + +We left Dubourg running across the fields to escape Monsieur Floridor, +the angry audience, and the raw potatoes of which Phèdre had received a +specimen in the eye; we must not forget that his flight was so sudden +that he had no time to change his costume, that his head was still +buried under the huge Louis XIV wig, which fell in great curls over his +neck and shoulders, and that his body was enveloped in the cloak covered +with rabbit skins. + +For an hour he ran at full speed, crossing highroads, jumping ditches, +stumbling through fields of wheat and tracts of ploughed land, with no +idea where he was or whither he was going, for the reader will remember +that these things happened late in the evening; consequently, it was +dark, and, as it was raining, there was no moon to light his path. + +He paused at last and listened; he heard nothing to indicate that he was +pursued. The most profound silence reigned all about him; he tried to +look about and find out where he was; he no longer was afraid of being +caught, and he felt the need of rest. It was the middle of autumn, the +evenings were beginning to be cool, and our fugitive was not at all +desirous to pass the night in the open air, unprotected from the rain; +to be sure, his wig took the place of a hat, and his cloak was as good +as an umbrella; but they would be drenched in time, and then he would be +very uncomfortable; so that it was most advisable to seek a place of +shelter. + +He knew by the feeling that he was walking over vegetables, and soon his +path was barred by a tall hedge; but as his cloak protected him from the +thorns, he climbed over, leaving two or three rabbit skins and two curls +from his wig in the bushes, and found himself at last on the other side, +uncertain whether he would be any better off there. But various +fruit-trees, pots of flowers, and a trellis, led him to think that he +was in a garden. He walked on, holding his hands in front of him, and +came to a wall; then he found that he was under a roof, where his +progress was arrested by bundles of hay and straw: he was in a shed +which was evidently used to store fodder. + +"Parbleu!" he said to himself; "I have found all that I need for a +comfortable night; I am sheltered from the rain, so I'll just lie down +on this straw, wrap myself in my cloak, and sleep. To-morrow, we will +consider our future plans." + +Dubourg was soon ready for the night; he was exceedingly comfortable +under the shed, and, after blessing the chance to which he owed that +shelter, he fell sound asleep. + +The shed in which he lay was at the end of a garden belonging to a very +pretty little cottage, occupied by a farmer named Bertrand, who had +married, seven years before, a pretty damsel of his village, a fresh, +wide-awake young woman known as La Belle Claudine; she had already +presented Monsieur Bertrand with two bouncing children, and hoped that +the end was not yet. + +In the country, everyone rises early. At daybreak, Fanfan and Marie, the +farmer's two children, one five years old and the other four, having had +their porridge, went out as usual to run about and play in the garden. +Happening to pass near the shed, what did they see on the straw? Imagine +Azor in _Beauty and the Beast_, and you will have an idea of the aspect +of Dubourg, whose face was entirely hidden by a profusion of +reddish-brown curls, which fell over his breast, while his whole body +was covered by the cloak, which counterfeited some other animal if not +the tiger; fancy, therefore, the fright of those children when they saw +that shapeless mass. + +Little Marie dropped the slice of bread and butter she held in her hand; +while the little boy opened his mouth and could not close it again, +being almost petrified by fear. + +"Oh! oh! brother, do you see?" said little Marie at last, clinging to +him and pointing to the object stretched out on the straw. + +"Oh! oh! what a horrid beast!" said Fanfan, running behind his sister. + +Then they ran at full speed to the house, uttering piercing shrieks +which did not wake Dubourg, because the fatigue of the preceding night +made his sleep very sound. + +Bertrand had just kissed his Claudine, preparatory to going into the +fields to work, when the two frightened, screaming children appeared. + +"What's the matter?" said their papa; "why don't you speak, you +rascals?" + +The children were so panic-stricken that they could not speak +coherently. At last, they cried in unison: + +"Over there--under the shed--a great big beast all covered with hair--on +the straw--with a black head and a red mane; he's bigger'n our donkey! +He's a horrid-looking thing!" + +"Can you make anything of all that?" Bertrand asked his wife. + +"They said something about a big beast, goodman." + +"_Morgué!_ there's only us in the house; how could it get in? Perhaps +it's neighbor Gervais's bull, or Dame Catherine's donkey." + +"No, papa, no; it's all gray and red. Oh! it's awful-looking!" + +"The devil! what does it mean?" + +"Has it got any tail?" inquired Claudine. + +"I don't know 'bout that, mamma; he looked as if he was asleep, and we +ran right away." + +"You must go and see what it is, goodman." + +"Yes, yes; I must go and see." + +But Bertrand, who was not naturally brave, had already begun to quake, +and, as a matter of prudence, went to get his gun, which was loaded with +salt. Claudine took a broom, the children seized sticks, and they +marched toward the shed. The little ones went first, because at that +age, although frightened, a child delights in anything out of the +ordinary, and the slightest event is a pleasure. Bertrand walked beside +his wife, who kept pushing him to make him go ahead. The nearer they +came to the shed, the more slowly they walked; they had ordered the +children to make no noise, because it was better to view the beast +asleep than awake. + +At last they stood in front of the little building, and the children +said, their voices trembling with fear and excitement: + +"There--look, in there!" + +Bertrand and Claudine thrust their heads forward, saw the horrifying +object, and dared not advance; the husband turned pale and drew closer +to his wife, who motioned to the children not to go any nearer. + +"Let's go and call help," said Bertrand at last, in a choking voice. + +"S'pose you fire at it, goodman." + +"I guess not! my gun's only loaded with salt; that wouldn't kill him, +but would just wake him up, and he'd be mad and go for us." + +"Ah! you're right, you mustn't fire; let's run to the village. Come, +children. Great God! I hope he won't wake up!" + +Bertrand had already started; he ran, as if the beast were after him, to +the village, which was only a gunshot from his house, and he was soon +joined by Claudine. They both told everybody they met what they had +found in their garden. As fear always magnifies objects, the beast they +had seen became as large as a bull; and as events are always exaggerated +by passing from mouth to mouth, because everyone adds a little to what +he hears, the beast was transformed from a bull to a camel, then into a +lion, then into an elephant; nor would it have stopped there if they had +been able to think of any larger animal. + +The one undoubted fact was that there was an extraordinary creature in +Bertrand's garden, and in a moment that news had put the whole village +in a ferment. The people assembled, and took counsel together; the women +went to fetch their husbands from the fields, and the mothers brought +their little ones into the house and forbade them to go out. They called +on the mayor, who, like his constituents, was an honest peasant, and who +declared that he knew no more about beasts than did the other +inhabitants of his bailiwick. But there was a certain Latouche in the +village, who had once been a customs clerk at the barrier in Paris, and +who set up for a wit, a joker, and a scholar. They hunted up Latouche, +who was at work on a process of making preserves without sugar, and told +him of the event which had upset the equilibrium of the whole village. + +Latouche listened gravely, passed his hand under his chin, required +every detail to be repeated several times, made a pretence of reflecting +long and profoundly, and said at last: + +"We must go and see what it is." + +"That is true, he's quite right," said all those who heard him; "let's +go and see the beast." + +"When I have seen it," said Latouche, "I will tell you at once what it +is, and to what genus it belongs; I ought to know about such things; I +studied botany once, and my cousin was under-porter at the Museum of +Natural History." + +The whole village made ready to visit Bertrand's garden. Everyone took +such weapon as he could find; even the women took hoes or rakes, because +the beast might be dangerous. The mayor joined the villagers, and +Latouche, who was the only man in the place who had a gun in working +order,--for Bertrand's would carry nothing heavier than salt,--Latouche +undertook to lead the march and to direct all the operations that were +to take place. + +They left the village; men, women, boys, and girls plodded along, +discussing the adventure. But the nearer they came to Bertrand's house, +the less inclined they were to talk; and soon, as a result of the +general terror, the silence became general. They marched in closer +order, and everyone tried to gather courage from the glance of his +neighbor. + +Latouche walked ahead, with his gun over his shoulder, arranging his +forces as if it were a matter of surprising a hostile camp. As they drew +near the garden hedge, Bertrand uttered an exclamation and dodged behind +a large rock. + +"There it is!" he cried. + +Instantly the whole body of peasants executed a retrograde movement, and +Latouche darted into the centre of his battalion; but soon, hearing no +sound, they moved forward again, looking for the object which had +frightened Bertrand. It was a red cat, which had glided under the hedge. + +"Morbleu! Bertrand," said Latouche, hastily resuming his place as +leader, "do you know that you're terribly chicken-hearted? it's shameful +for a man of your years to have so little courage!" + +"Yes, that's true enough," said Claudine; "he ain't brave a bit, and I +often tell him so." + +"The idea of calling out and spreading an alarm just for a cat!" + +"_Dame!_ Monsieur Latouche, I saw something crawling, and I +thought----" + +"Perhaps it was some foolish thing like that that made him turn the +whole village upside down, and interrupt the chemical experiment I was +making." + +"Oh, no! that wasn't anything foolish! you'll soon see that it was worth +the trouble; here we are, close to the shed; just go through this little +gate and you'll be right there." + +"No; let's go in by the house, and examine the creature first at a +distance." + +Latouche's advice was followed: they went through Bertrand's house into +the garden. As they approached the shed, the bravest turned pale, +several women dared not go any farther, and Latouche, who resembled +those persons who sing to dissemble their fear, issued precautionary +orders on this side and that, but found an excuse for abandoning his +position at the head of the procession. + +"There it is! there it is!" exclaimed several of the villagers, pointing +to Dubourg, who was still in the same position, because he was in a +heavy sleep. Terror was depicted on every face, but it was blended with +curiosity; everyone stretched out his neck, or stooped forward, or +leaned against his neighbor. Latouche instantly ordered a halt, and one +could hear on all sides: + +"Oh! what a horrid beast! oh! how ugly! What a head! what a body! I +can't see any eyes. No, nor any paws." + +"Hush! hush!" said Latouche; "don't talk so loud, you may wake him up. +Wait till I examine him. Neighbors, did you ever hear of the famous +beast that ravaged Gévaudan?" + +"No, no!" said the villagers. + +"Well, this one looks to me very much like him. You don't see this +monster's feet, because he has them folded under him, like the Turks; +as for his eyes, they are turned toward the straw, luckily for us; for +the eyes of such creatures often emit a deadly poison. The more I look +at that skin and that mane--yes, it's a sea-lion, that must have found +its way here from Normandie." + +"A sea-lion!" repeated the peasants; "are they ugly?" + +"Parbleu! they eat a man as if he was an oyster." + +"Oh! mon Dieu! What shall we do? how shall we catch him?" + +"Perhaps he's dead," said Claudine; "he ain't changed his position since +this morning." + +"Dead? where's the man who'll go and find out?" + +"What if you should give him a shot?" suggested the mayor. + +"To fire at him is taking a great risk; the bullet often glances off of +their skin." + +"Aim at his ear." + +"I should have to see it, first." + +"No matter," said the mayor; "we must capture the animal, dead or alive; +take good aim, and fire; and we, that is I myself and the bravest men +here, will guard you with our hoes; and, _morgué!_ if he comes at us, +we'll give him a warm reception." + +The mayor's speech revived the courage of the villagers; they formed in +line and stood with upraised hoes, ready to strike. Latouche finally +decided to fire, although he was not at all eager to do so. He stood +behind the line, passed the barrel of his gun between two peasants, +spent five minutes taking aim, and at last pulled the trigger--and the +gun missed fire, luckily for Dubourg, who had no suspicion of the danger +he had escaped. + +The mayor was in despair, Latouche refused to try again, and the +peasants made no motion. Suddenly our sleeper turned over, with a yawn +which everybody took for a roar. Instantly the most courageous dropped +their weapons and fled, pushing and crowding one another, and listening +to nothing but their fright; the boys tumbled over the girls, the women +dragged their husbands away, Latouche climbed a tree, the mayor was +thrown down by Bertrand, the most agile leaped the hedge, the heaviest +slipped and fell when they tried to run. Claudine fell flat, as did +several of her neighbors, and, in the confusion, all the women, young +and old, were more on exhibition than they were in the habit of being in +public; but no one paid any heed to them; the most seductive objects do +not stop fugitives, for in great crises we do not give a thought to such +trifles. + +But Dubourg was now fully awake; he rubbed his eyes, and, first of all, +snatched off his wig, which prevented his seeing, then removed his +cloak, in which he was stifling. He stood up, for he heard shouts, cries +of terror, words that he did not understand--in short, an uproar, the +cause of which he was very far from suspecting. He left the shed and +went out into the garden, where he was thunderstruck by the scene before +his eyes. There was ample ground for amazement; but as he saw some very +pleasing details amid the chaos, he walked on, saying to himself: + +"I don't know what insect has stung all these people, but they have a +strange way of receiving travellers in this country; one ought to have +little difficulty in making acquaintances." + +The boldest of the villagers, hearing no repetition of the roaring, +gradually turned his head; he saw Dubourg's features, which were in no +wise alarming when they were no longer surrounded by that infernal wig. + +"Well, well! who's that man, and where did he come from?" said the +peasant. + +At that, all his companions turned their heads and stared at Dubourg, +who, having politely assisted Claudine to rise, thus answered the mayor, +who repeated the question: + +"I am an unfortunate devil, albeit an honest man, who, when surprised by +the storm last night, did not know where to go, so took the liberty of +lying on yonder bundles of straw, where I slept without waking until +this moment. I trust that I have done no harm." + +"You say you slept under that shed?" said the mayor. + +"To be sure." + +"And the big beast didn't eat you?" asked Bertrand. + +"What big beast?" + +"_Pardi!_ the beast with long hair and red mane that was lying there." + +Dubourg turned, and his eye fell on his cloak and wig; he divined the +source of the peasants' terror, and gave way to a longing to laugh, +which he could not control for several minutes. The villagers, hearing +his laughter, began to take courage; the fugitives stopped, the women +rose and arranged their dresses; everybody looked at Dubourg and awaited +an explanation from him. He went back to the shed, took his cloak in one +hand and his wig in the other, and returned to the villagers. + +"Here, my friends, is the beast that seems to have frightened you. I +abandon it to your wrath." + +As he spoke, he threw the cloak and wig on the ground; and the peasants +drew near, ventured to touch them, and laughed with Dubourg, saying: + +"What! is that what it was? Mon Dieu! what a pack of idiots!" + +At this juncture, Latouche descended from his pear-tree, crying: + +"I told you that that idiot of a Bertrand, who's as cowardly as a hare, +had told us some fool story, and taken a nut-cracker for an ox. Tell me, +now, if I wasn't right." + +"_Morguienne!_" retorted Bertrand; "I don't see but what my nut-cracker +gave you a good fright, too; for you climbed that pear-tree like a cat, +and knocked Claudine down when you ran by her." + +"Hush!" said Latouche, turning as red as a beet at Bertrand's retort; +"hush, you clown! I only climbed the tree so that I could aim better at +what you called an animal." + +"And you threw your gun away!" + +"Unintentionally, of course." + +"Come, come," said Dubourg; "I am the cause of all this confusion; and, +in truth, I don't wonder you were frightened when you saw me at a +distance in this cloak and wig; the bravest men aren't always eager to +fight with a savage beast, and Monsieur Latouche must be very brave to +have dared to fire at me." + +This adroit speech conciliated everybody, and Latouche recovered his +good humor. + +"This stranger expresses himself well," he said; "he is certainly a +learned man." + +Dubourg might easily have passed himself off as a baron again, he had +created such a favorable impression; but since the happenings at +Chambertin's, he was little inclined to play the nobleman; and when the +mayor asked him whence he had come in such an extraordinary costume, he +instantly invented a fable of robbers who had attacked and stripped him, +stifled his cries with the wig, and wrapped him in the cloak, probably +intending to carry him to their cavern, when they had taken alarm at the +sound of horses' steps, and had run away, leaving him in the midst of +the fields. + +This tale aroused the deepest interest among the villagers, in Dubourg's +favor; they found him very agreeable, having ceased to be afraid of him. +The mayor drew up a report, and Latouche observed: + +"I have been saying for a long while that there are robbers in the +neighborhood; they stole two hens from me a week ago, and that isn't all +they've done. We must have a general _battue_, neighbors; I'll take +charge of it, and you know what a good hand I am at making plans. We +will begin immediately after the constables have made theirs in +pursuance of monsieur le maire's report." + +Awaiting the general _battue_, they turned their attention to Dubourg, +who obviously stood in need of refreshment. Everyone wanted to treat +him, to give him food and lodging. Every male villager cordially offered +him a jacket to replace his cloak, and urged him to make his house his +home for a few days. Dubourg gave the preference to Bertrand, because he +had not forgotten certain impressions he had received when he assisted +Claudine to rise. Bertrand's better half seemed flattered by that honor; +she courtesied to the stranger, and accompanied the courtesy with a +smile, which smile meant many things. After all that Dubourg had +witnessed, it was a great triumph for her over her neighbors. + +The mayor, as the official head of the commune, had the privilege of +offering him a stout woollen jacket to replace the coat the robbers had +stolen from him. As compensation, he awarded to himself the famous +cloak, with which he proposed to make a winter coverlet; and Monsieur +Latouche secured the wig, which he had well earned by his behavior +throughout the affair. + +The villagers returned to their customary occupations: some to the +fields, others to their cottages. Bertrand, who had a large field to +plow, went off to his work, enjoining upon his wife to take good care of +the gentleman until his return. Claudine promised, and kept her word. +She was active and obliging; she was most anxious to prove to the +stranger that he had done well to give her the preference, and she +spared no trouble to make him content with his choice. For his part, +Dubourg desired to efface the ghastly impression produced by his +appearance in the village, and we know that he had a great talent for +making himself agreeable to the ladies; and so, when Bertrand returned +from the field at night, his wife ran to meet him, saying: + +"_Jarni!_ goodman, what fools we was to be afraid of that gentleman; +he's just like anybody else, you see, and he knows a lot more'n you do." + +Dubourg was extremely well treated by the villagers, and he found it +very convenient to pass some little time among those honest folk, who +strove, by their attentions, to make him forget his misadventure. He +paid for his entertainment by telling ghost stories in the evening. To +the peasant, a man who can talk for hours of interesting, terrifying, +and, consequently, amusing things, is a veritable treasure. Dubourg was +such a man, and when Monsieur Latouche was present he always sprinkled +his tales with a few Latin words; whereupon the village oracle, although +he did not understand, would turn to the peasants and say: + +"This is all true, my friends; he just made oath to it in German." + +But, after a fortnight, Dubourg began to tire of telling the peasants +fairy tales in the evening and making love to their wives during the +day; and he determined to leave the village, and go in search of news of +his former companions. He still had in his pocket, untouched, the +hundred francs he had earned by acting Hippolyte; with that amount he +could safely set out without being obliged to disguise himself as a +strange beast. Despite all that Claudine could do to detain him, he +determined to go. He thanked the mayor, Latouche, and all the villagers +for their kind treatment. He thanked Bertrand, and especially his wife, +with peculiar warmth. Then, with a stout knotted stick in his hand, +which harmonized with his jacket, and a broad-brimmed hat in place of +his wig, he left the village, saying to himself: + +"Those people who saw me playing the swell will never recognize me; and +that is precisely what I desire." + +However, he deemed it prudent to avoid Voreppe, where he might fall in +with Floridor or some member of his troupe. Nor did he care to pass +through Grenoble, where Durosey might still be lying in wait for him, +and a creditor's eyes are not easily deceived. So he headed for Vizille, +where he hoped to find Frédéric, or, at least, to learn something about +him. + +He strode gayly along, singing all the time, and sitting down on the +grass to eat the provisions with which Claudine had filled his pockets; +for women think of everything. Dubourg blessed Madame Bertrand's +foresight. + +"How can I be melancholy," he thought, "when I have had ample proof, a +hundred times over, that tender-hearted women will always take an +interest in my fate! Here's to Claudine's health, and Madame +Chambertin's, and Goton's, and little Delphine's, and all the others to +whom I owe so many pleasant hours and delicious memories." + +He drank their healths in water from a brook, for he could adapt himself +to anything. Moreover, he had money and might have wine, which +consideration made the water seem less disagreeable. Toward nightfall, +he drew near Vizille. + +"If monsieur le comte learned of Frédéric's amourette from Ménard," he +said to himself, "he probably came here after him, and I shall not find +him; but I shall find the pretty blonde, and she will tell me what has +happened." + +He did not then know that the poor girl could not tell him anything. He +walked through the valley, entered the woods, looked about, and called, +but saw no one. At last he discovered the cabin; he entered the garden, +which was deserted; then he went into the little house, where he found +no one but old Marguerite, dozing in her big armchair. + +Surprised not to find the girl, Dubourg left the cabin; he was afraid +that the story he had invented for Ménard would prove to be true, and +that Frédéric had really taken his sweetheart away with him. He was on +his way to the village to try to learn something about Sister Anne, +when, in one of the paths in the forest, he met her walking slowly +toward her home. + +Her whole bearing was so dejected, her features wore an expression of +such profound sorrow, that Dubourg was touched. He gazed at her for +several minutes, saying to himself: + +"Poor creature! he has gone, and he didn't take you! How much better it +would have been for you if he had never come!" + +At that moment, Sister Anne, hearing footsteps, looked up and saw that +someone was approaching. She ran forward like a flash; when she reached +Dubourg's side, she stopped, and her features, which hope had brightened +for a moment, resumed their grief-stricken expression; sadly she shook +her head--it was not he! + +But Dubourg spoke; recognizing his voice, she looked at him more +carefully, and again her heart beat fast with joy. It was one of +Frédéric's friends, who had come once before to seek him; doubtless he +came now to announce his return. She walked closer to him, questioning +him with her eyes, and waiting impatiently for him to explain his +presence; whereupon Dubourg, much surprised, asked her what had become +of Frédéric. + +The name of Frédéric made her quiver; she pointed to the road he had +taken, counted on her fingers the number of days he had been gone, and +seemed to be trying to ask him why he did not bring him back. + +This pantomime revealed to Dubourg Sister Anne's unhappy condition, and +he devoted all his efforts to consoling her. But for Sister Anne there +was no consolation, no happiness, without Frédéric. + +"Poor girl!" thought Dubourg; "he was quite right to assure me that she +did not resemble any woman he had ever known! But to leave her in these +woods--that was an outrage! for such grace and charm to live in a +wretched hovel is downright murder! Upon my word, I have a mind to take +her to Paris!" + +"Why didn't you go with him?" he asked her; "what detains you here in +the woods? Come with me, my child, and we will find Frédéric; or, if we +don't find him, there are thousands of others who will be only too happy +to fill his place." + +Sister Anne stared at him in amazement; she seemed not to understand +him; but when he waved his hand in the direction of the town, she +hastily drew back, and, pointing to the cabin, made him understand by +signs that there was someone there whom she could not leave. Ah! had it +not been for Marguerite, how willingly she would have gone with Dubourg! +for she believed that he would lead her at once to her lover's arms. But +as for abandoning the one who had taken charge of her in her childhood, +who had been a second mother to her,--now, when she was advanced in +years and was most in need of her assistance!--such a thought did not +enter the dumb girl's mind; ingratitude was a vice to which her heart +was a stranger. + +"Very good," said Dubourg; "then remain here in these woods, my child; +and may you recover your happiness and peace of mind!" + +Sister Anne's eyes questioned him anew. + +"Yes, yes," he said; "he will come back; you will see him again, I have +no doubt. Dry your tears. He will surely come soon and comfort you." + +These words brought a gleam of hope to the dumb girl's pale, sorrowful +face. She smiled at him who had given her that assurance, and, bidding +him adieu with a motion of her head, left him, to return to Marguerite. + +Dubourg left the woods, and, despite his heedless nature, he did not +sing as he walked back through the valley to the highroad. Like a heavy +weight upon his heart lay the image of that unhappy child, to whom he +had held out a hope which he thought would never be realized. He had +never been so moved. For several leagues, he thought constantly of +Sister Anne, saying to himself: + +"Poor girl! she was well worth the trouble!" + +But, at last, the thought of his own plight brought him back to his +natural frame of mind. He sold his jacket and hat to a second-hand +dealer, and for a few crowns obtained a more fitting costume; then he +started for Lyon, whence he proposed to return to Paris, in the hope of +finding his former travelling companions. + + + + +XIX + +ILLUSIONS OF THE HEART.--INCONSTANCY AND LOYALTY + + +The post chaise which bore Frédéric Parisward went like the wind. The +Comte de Montreville was in haste to deaden the intensity of his son's +memories, and seemed impatient to arrive at the capital. + +They exchanged very few words: Frédéric thought exclusively of Sister +Anne, his father of the best means of bringing his son to his senses, +and Ménard of all the lies the false Polish baron had told him. + +The count did not address a word of reproach to Frédéric; he seemed to +have forgotten all his grounds of dissatisfaction; and Ménard, who was +mortally afraid of Monsieur de Montreville's stern glance, because he +realized that his conduct had been far from exemplary, began to breathe +more freely, and ventured to hold up his head. + +They arrived at Paris. Before Ménard took leave of the count, Frédéric +found an opportunity to speak with him in private, and asked him about +Dubourg. Ménard did not answer for a moment; he bit his lips, as if he +were not quite sure whether he ought to take offence, and said at last, +with what he intended for a sly look: + +"Is it Monsieur le Baron Potoski that you wish to know about?" + +"Potoski, Dubourg--call him what you please." + +"Faith! monsieur, I might well call him rather impertinent, considering +all the fables he told me. The idea of claiming to be a palatine----" + +"Come, come, my dear Ménard, forget all that." + +"And his snuff-box that belonged to the King of Prussia!" + +"That was a joke!" + +"But I thought more of that tokay from Tekely's cellar than of anything +else." + +"Remember that I am as much to blame as he, for giving him permission to +deceive you." + +"That closes my mouth, monsieur le comte; besides, if it weren't for his +recklessness and his passion for gambling, he would be a man of great +merit. He is well informed, he knows his classics." + +"But what has become of him? where did you leave him?" + +"I left him acting Hippolyte, and coming to get me to make my _entrée_ +on the stage." + +As Frédéric was entirely in the dark, Ménard described their adventures +in the little town, at which anybody but the young count would have +laughed heartily. But he heard only this, that Dubourg had been left in +a very embarrassing position. He could form no idea when he would see +him again, which was a grievous disappointment; for he had proposed to +send Dubourg to Sister Anne, to allay the poor girl's apprehensions and +explain his failure to return. + +The Comte de Montreville dismissed Ménard with a reasonable +compensation, not for the way he had looked after his son during their +journey, but for the time he had lost. Ménard bade adieu to his dear +pupil, expressing the hope that he would remember him in case he should +ever propose to start around the world again. + +Several days had passed since Frédéric's return to Paris, and the dumb +girl's image was constantly in his thoughts. He imagined her in the +woods, awaiting his return, watching the road by which he was to come, +and in despair at his desertion of her. Every moment added to his +remorse and his longing to see Sister Anne again. But what could he do? +He dared not leave his father; he had no money, and, for the first time +in his life, the steward, at the count's bidding, had refused to supply +him. Monsieur de Montreville feared that his son would use it to resume +his travels, and he did not propose to let him go away again. + +Every day, Frédéric formed the most extravagant projects. He determined +to leave Paris on foot, to join his young sweetheart and conceal himself +with her in the heart of some forest. But Sister Anne could not leave +Marguerite; so that they must remain near the cabin, where his father +could easily find him; for Ménard had told him everything. + +Then what was he to do?--write? Alas! the poor child did not know how to +read--she knew how to do nothing, except love; and that is very little +in these days. + +Frédéric rarely went into society, for he did not enjoy himself. In vain +did pretty little Madame Dernange renew her provocations; he paid no +heed to them; and she, piqued by his indifference, employed all the +resources of coquetry to bring him to her feet. But Frédéric did not +fall into the trap, for he had learned what true love is; he realized +the worthlessness of all those promptings of self-esteem, those caprices +of the senses, which one mistakes for love until he has learned to know +the real thing. + +The count treated his son coldly, but never alluded to his adventures in +Dauphiné. On the contrary, he avoided the subject; and when Frédéric, +desirous to obtain some idea of his father's feelings, ventured to +mention his stay at Grenoble, to speak of the country in that +neighborhood, and of the pretty village of Vizille, a stern glance from +the count closed his mouth and forbade him to continue. + +Frédéric called again and again at the various lodgings which Dubourg +had occupied in Paris; but he could not find him at any of them. He went +to Ménard, and urged him to do his utmost to unearth Dubourg, who, he +said, had perhaps returned to the capital, but was afraid to call upon +him, Frédéric, for fear of meeting Monsieur de Montreville. + +"Suppose I find him?" said Ménard. + +"Send him to me at once." + +"Send him to you! God forbid! Monsieur le comte your father spoke very +harshly to him when he saw him in the costume of Hippolyte. To be sure, +the costume was unbecoming." + +"Tell him to write to me; what is there to prevent his meeting me +somewhere else, if he's afraid to come to the house? Am I watched? Ah! +Monsieur Ménard, I can't stand it any longer. Every day adds to my +torture! I must see her again, or at least hear something from her." + +"Hear from whom?" + +"From the woman I adore, the woman whom--I was compelled to desert, in +order to return to Paris with you." + +"Ah! I understand--the little maid of the forest. Monsieur Dubourg told +me that you had furnished a lodging for her and had taken her away with +you." + +"Would to God that I had! I should be with her now. Ah! my dear Monsieur +Ménard, if you were a different man---- But you are kind-hearted and +sympathetic; you are fond of me, and you would restore me to life if you +would consent to go to her and tell her that I love her more dearly than +ever!" + +"I am very sorry, monsieur; but I shall not go to tell her that or +anything else. I will do nothing to forward a passion which your worthy +father does not approve; he has too much reason now to complain of my +negligence. I love you dearly, and that is why I will not help you to +continue a guilty connection which would lead to no good end. Monsieur +your father knows very well what he is doing; it was high time that he +should come, for we were all making fools of ourselves, I most of all. +His presence restored our equilibrium. He snatched you away from +temptation; that distresses you, and yet it was the best thing he could +possibly do. _Qui bene amat, bene castigat; experto crede Roberto._" + +Frédéric went home, to think of Sister Anne, and to try to devise some +means of seeing her. If he had known that she bore within her a pledge +of his love, that she was about to become a mother, nothing could have +kept him in Paris. He would have flown to her, defying his father's +wrath. But he knew nothing of that circumstance, so he confined himself +to saying every day: + +"I will go to her." + +The count sent to ask his son to come to him, and Frédéric obeyed, his +brow still clouded with ennui. + +"You have ceased to appear in society," said the count; "have your +travels made a misanthrope of you?" + +Frédéric said nothing,--always the best course to pursue when one has +nothing to say. + +"I wish you to go with me this evening," continued the count, "to call +on one of my old comrades in arms, Général de Valmont. After a long +residence on his estates in the country, he has come to Paris to stay +some little time. He desires to see you, and I desire to present you to +him." + +Frédéric bowed, and prepared to accompany his father. He had heard him +speak of this Monsieur de Valmont, with whom he had served in the army, +and who was of about his age; so that there was nothing to cause +surprise in his desire to present his son to his old friend. + +On their way to the general's house, Monsieur de Montreville was +unusually amiable, and Frédéric strove to appear less melancholy than +usual. When they reached their destination, they were announced in due +course, and Monsieur de Valmont came forward to meet them. At first +sight, his appearance was most prepossessing. His manners were frank and +cordial, his features instinct with sincerity and good humor. He +embraced his old friend, shook hands heartily with Frédéric, and seemed +delighted to see him. + +After the exchange of greetings, the general invited his visitors to +step into an adjoining room. + +"You have shown me your family," he said to the count; "now, I must show +you mine. It surprises you, perhaps, that I, an old bachelor, have a +family; it is not quite so near to me, to be sure, but it is none the +less dear." + +As he spoke, they entered the room, where a young lady was seated at a +piano. At sight of the strangers, she hastily rose. + +"Constance," said the general, "this is my friend, the Comte de +Montreville, and his son; messieurs, let me present my niece--my +daughter--for I love her as dearly as if I were her father." + +Constance courtesied gracefully to the two visitors. Frédéric looked at +her--he could not do otherwise than think her charming. As for the +count, a smile of satisfaction played over his features. I believe that +the sly old fellow had heard of Mademoiselle Constance, and that he had +his little scheme in his head when he took his son to see the general. + +Constance was slender and graceful; there was something sweet and modest +in her aspect, which impressed one favorably. She was fair, with a touch +of color in her cheeks. Her great blue eyes, set off by long, dark +lashes, had an indefinable charm; her expression was amiable and frank; +every movement was instinct with grace, and she seemed absolutely +unconscious of it. Far from seeking to attract attention, she seemed +desirous to shun the admiration she aroused. + +The two old friends fell to talking over their campaigns and their +youthful adventures, and, at sixty, such subjects are inexhaustible. So +that it was necessary for Frédéric to talk with the general's niece; +and, although one's heart is heavy, one does not like to bore a pretty +woman, but makes an effort to forget one's sorrow momentarily, in order +not to appear too dull. That is what our hero tried to do while chatting +with Mademoiselle Constance, who talked very agreeably, and, without the +least trace of ostentation, revealed a judicious, cultivated mind, great +love for art, and a candor and modesty which imparted an additional +charm to everything she said. She was not one of those young women who +know everything and discuss every subject, of whom we have so many, and +whom we are good-natured enough to call little prodigies because they +chatter on for hours with extraordinary assurance, and because it is +customary to praise every word that falls from a pretty mouth, even when +it lacks common sense. + +May God protect you from prodigies, reader, especially of the female +variety! There is nothing comparable to that which is simple, modest, +and natural; we are always glad to return to that. Those qualities do +not exclude intelligence and knowledge, but they add to them a varnish +of unassuming gentleness which makes them even more attractive, and +which is never found in the others. + +The young people talked of painting, music, and the pleasures of the +country. Suddenly the general said to his niece: + +"Sing us something, Constance; sit you down at your piano and sing. I +like singing myself, and perhaps it will entertain our young friend +here." + +Constance did not wait to be urged; she took her place at the piano and +sang, accompanying herself excellently; her voice was sweet and full of +expression; it had not a great range, but she sang with so much taste +that one never tired of listening to her. Frédéric listened with keen +delight; he had never heard a voice that pleased him so much. Constance +sang several pieces, until at last her uncle said to her: + +"That is well, very well; you are good-natured and don't make so much +fuss about singing as some people do. Morbleu! I can't endure such +affectation!" + +The count and his son joined in their praise of the singing, and thanked +Constance, who blushed at their compliments. But their visit had lasted +two hours, and they rose to go. + +"I will pay you a visit," said the general; "I have just bought a little +country house in the suburbs for mademoiselle, who drives me crazy with +her chatter about fields and birds. I hope that we shall see you and +your son there before the season is much further advanced." + +The count promised, and returned to his carriage with Frédéric, to whom +he was careful not to say a word of the general's niece. The sight of +Constance was certain to do more than anything a father could say. +Frédéric said nothing; his thoughts had returned to the poor dumb girl +in the woods. For two hours he had almost forgotten her! Two hours is no +great matter; but Sister Anne did not forget him for an instant. + +Three days after this visit, the general and his niece dined with the +Comte de Montreville, who entertained quite a large party. When he +learned that he was to see Mademoiselle de Valmont again, Frédéric was +conscious of a thrill of excitement, which he attributed to the +annoyance of being obliged to conceal his melancholy. Was that the real +cause? + +The general was jovial, outspoken, and unaffected, as usual; his niece +was as pretty and affable and modest as ever. In a large party, it is +easier to arrange a tête-à-tête than when the guests are few in number, +and Frédéric returned again and again to Constance's side. He fancied +that he did so from courtesy simply, because it was his duty to pay +especial attention to the general's niece; but he could not blind +himself to the fact that, of all the assembled company, Constance was +the one who attracted him the most, if it were possible for anyone to +attract him. He could talk with her without having to think what he was +going to say. The words that fell from her mouth were not mere trite +phrases and tasteless epigrams; Constance did not devote her attention +exclusively to other women's costumes; she did not pass them in review +and criticise them one after another, as a young woman is very likely to +do. With her, he felt more free, more at his ease; it seemed to him that +he had known her a long while. She smiled at him so pleasantly when he +seated himself beside her, her voice was so tender, her eyes so sweet, +that it was natural that he should prefer her conversation to that of +all the rest; even when he was not talking with her, he was conscious of +a secret charm in her presence. Although he strove to overcome his +sadness, his face still wore a melancholy expression, which was not +unbecoming to him; and women often yield to the seduction of such +expressions. When he was pensive, Constance looked at him with deep +interest, her eyes seemed to ask him if he was unhappy. And when she +spoke to him, her voice was even softer, her manner more sympathetic; +one would have said that she unconsciously shared his sorrow, or that +she was trying to make him forget it. + +Several young ladies exhibited their talents and their voices in +selections self-accompanied on the harp or piano, but Frédéric heard no +one but Mademoiselle de Valmont. She sang only one ballad, but she sang +it so beautifully! As he listened, Frédéric examined her more closely +than he had hitherto dared to do. Whether it was mere chance, or an +illusion of the heart, he discovered in Constance's features a striking +resemblance to those of Sister Anne: the same expression, the same +melting sweetness; and if the poor mute could speak, surely her voice +would be as tender and expressive. Frédéric, while listening to +Constance, persuaded himself that it was Sister Anne's voice that he +heard, and his eyes were wet with tears. Full of that illusion, and +discovering every moment some new point of resemblance in feature, he +did not take his eyes from Mademoiselle de Valmont. When she had +finished singing, Frédéric remained by her side, and his eyes, +persistently fastened on her face, shone with a new fire and meaning. +Constance noticed it, and avoided his gaze; a crimson flush overspread +her cheeks. If Frédéric, when he gazed so tenderly at her, fancied that +the dumb girl was before him, should he not have told Mademoiselle de +Valmont of the real object of his preoccupation? And was not Constance +justified in the belief that the Comte de Montreville's son did not look +upon her with indifference? + +The evening passed very swiftly to Frédéric. When the general and his +niece went away, the former announced that they were going to their +country house on the following day, and that he should await impatiently +a visit from the count and his son. + +When Constance had gone, Frédéric felt entirely alone in the midst of +the company; and as soon as he could with courtesy retire, he hastened +to his room to think--of Constance? oh, no! of Sister Anne; it was still +the poor dumb girl who filled his thoughts; but was it his fault if now +and then the memory of Mademoiselle de Valmont intruded itself? It was +solely because of the resemblance between them. A loving heart sees its +loved one everywhere, even where she is not. It loves her in another who +recalls her features. That is why it is no safer to trust sentimental +lovers than fickle ones. + +Several days passed; Frédéric heard nothing from Dubourg, and concluded +that he had not yet returned to Paris. The young count was still sad and +thoughtful, but there was something not unpleasant in his sadness. The +thought of Sister Anne often caused him to sigh. He was intensely +anxious to see her again; but he had ceased to form those extravagant +projects which, in the first days after his return, seemed so easy of +execution. He longed to ensure Sister Anne's happiness and repose +forever; but he thought of the future, and he was more certain than ever +that his father would never consent to give her to him for his wife. He +said to himself: + +"What should we do? what would be the result of our liaison? One cannot +always live in the woods. Man is made for society, and Sister Anne is +utterly unfitted for it: she is ignorant of everything that it is +indispensable to know." + +Poor girl! why did he not think of all these things the first time he +saw you by the brook? Ah! then you seemed fascinating to him, just as +you were; your very ignorance made you a thousand times more alluring in +his eyes; and now---- I say again, that men whose sentiments are so +easily stirred are no better than other men. + +One morning, the count suggested to his son a visit to the general at +his country house. Frédéric was always at his father's orders, but he +now chose to take unusual pains with his toilet. Even though one have no +desire to please, one does not wish to repel. The count closely observed +his son's actions, and exulted in secret; but he said no more to him on +the subject of Mademoiselle de Valmont than on any other subject. + +The general's country house was in the outskirts of Montmorency, and the +visitors arrived about noon. As he alighted from the carriage, Frédéric +was conscious of a quickening of the pulses, which he attributed to the +pleasure of seeing a woman whose features recalled those of his beloved. +He was, in truth, deeply moved, and, when he entered the house, his +eyes sought Mademoiselle de Valmont. But he saw no one but the general, +who welcomed them with great cordiality. + +"You must stay with us several days," he said; "I have you in my power, +and I shall not let you go at present. We will talk and laugh and hunt +and play cards; my niece will play and sing to us; in short, we will +pass the time as pleasantly as we can." + +Frédéric continued to look about for the niece, whom he did not see; and +as the general had already begun to discuss with his father one of their +campaigns, which was likely to lead them far afield, he ventured to +inquire for her. + +"She is probably in the garden," said the general; "either in her +aviary, or looking after her flowers, or in her summer-house. Go and +find her, young man; corbleu! that's your business; at your age, I would +have run here from Paris for a pretty face." + +Frédéric profited by the permission; he went down into a garden, which +seemed to be extensive and well kept, and walked about at random, +looking for Mademoiselle Constance. He passed the aviary, but she was +not there; he turned into an avenue of lindens, at the end of which the +ground rose slightly and a winding path led to a sort of platform, where +there was a beautiful view. That was presumably what the general called +the summer-house, for Constance was sitting there, with a drawing-board +on her lap, sketching the lovely valley which could be seen from that +point. She did not see Frédéric, because her back was turned to the path +leading to the platform, and the young man drew near and leaned over her +shoulder without attracting her attention. + +"So you have all the talents?" he said. Constance looked up, and at +sight of him her eyes expressed the pleasure she felt, while her bosom +rose and fell more rapidly. She made a motion as if to lay aside her +drawing. + +"Go on, I pray you," said Frédéric; "I did not come here to interrupt +your studies; on the contrary, I should be glad to join you in them. +And, furthermore, your uncle insists that we must remain here several +days; so that our presence must not be allowed to disarrange your +habits." + +"And are you really going to give us the pleasure of keeping you for +some days?" said Constance, unsteadily. + +"Most assuredly. I cannot believe that my father will refuse his old +friend's invitation; he is much too happy with him for that." + +"I am afraid, monsieur, that you, not having the same reason to enjoy +yourself here, will soon regret the diversions of Paris. We see very few +people here; you will surely be bored." + +"You judge me very ill, if you think it possible for me to be bored with +you." + +"Oh! I beg your pardon. I said that--because I was afraid; but if you +really love the country and music and drawing and reading, you ought to +enjoy yourself here." + +Frédéric did not reply at once; he looked closely at Constance, and his +heart was oppressed by innumerable conflicting feelings. He saw in her +features a face that was still dear to him; he transported himself in +his imagination to the little wood by the brook, and a cloud of +melancholy darkened his brow. A profound sigh escaped him, and not until +several minutes had passed did he answer Constance, as if waking from a +dream: + +"Yes, I am very fond of the country." + +The young woman looked at him in amazement, and smiled; then, finding +that he said nothing more, she returned to her drawing-board, and tried +to continue her sketch. But Frédéric's presence embarrassed her; the +hand that held the pencil trembled, and she did not know what she was +doing. + +Frédéric continued to gaze at her in silence; he was charmed by her +manner, her grace, her amiable yet reserved air. If Sister Anne had had +a good education, she would have been like her; she would have had her +manners, her talents; she would have had the same command of language. +And he began to consider that education, instead of lessening a woman's +attractions, imparts an additional fascination to them. + +The conversation languished, for Frédéric often relapsed into reverie; +but, for all that, the time passed very quickly; it seemed that they +were happy to be together, and that that sufficed them. So far as +Frédéric was concerned, he would gladly have passed the whole day +looking at Constance and drawing comparisons. She noticed that he kept +his eyes constantly upon her; but his eyes were so soft, there was in +their expression something so tender and touching, that no woman could +have been offended at being the object of their scrutiny. + +The arrival of the two old friends put an end to this situation, which +was very agreeable to the young people, although they dared not confess +as much, even to themselves. The general pointed out to the count all +the beauties of his garden, and the summer-house was one of them. The +count seemed extremely well pleased, for, as he approached the +platform, he detected a certain embarrassment, a certain emotion, which +added greatly to its attractions in his eyes. The general saw nothing of +it; he was not so keen an observer as his friend. + +"We have two guests, as you see, niece," he said; "try to do the honors +of the establishment so satisfactorily that they won't think of leaving +us for a long time." + +"I will do my best," said Constance, blushing. + +"Mademoiselle," said the count, "your presence alone is enough to detain +us." + +Frédéric said nothing, but looked at Constance, who, as she thanked the +count, cast a furtive glance at his son, as if to make sure that he +thought the same. + +After dinner, two of the general's neighbors called. One was an +enthusiastic player of billiards, who could not sleep if he had not had +his game; the other, who was somewhat younger, had seen service in the +army, and had an endless stock of campaign stories, which he +interspersed with compliments and gallant speeches to Mademoiselle de +Valmont. + +Frédéric declined to join them at billiards, in order to remain with +Constance and to hear her sing or play. + +"Don't feel bound to stay with me," she said; "remember that we are not +in Paris." + +"Unless it is disagreeable to you," Frédéric replied, "I prefer to stay +with you." + +Constance smiled, and it was easy to see that it was not disagreeable to +her. In the country, especially under the general's roof, the most +delightful liberty of action was the rule. During the day, everyone did +whatever he chose; the count and his friend made frequent excursions in +the neighborhood, while Frédéric remained with Constance; they passed a +part of every day together in the garden. + +"We must make the most of the last fine days," said Constance; "the +winter is at hand, and I must say good-bye to my trees and my flowers +and my birds. But I shall see them again; it is not an eternal +farewell." + +"Don't you expect to return to your uncle's estate in the provinces?" + +"Oh, no! I like this house much better; he bought it for me, and he is +willing that I should spend seven months of the year here. We shall +return to Paris for the winter. Uncle is so kind to me! He does whatever +I want, for he is very fond of me." + +"Who could fail to----" + +Frédéric did not finish his question; he checked himself, as if he +regretted what he had said, and Constance, taken by surprise, lowered +her eyes and said nothing. But she was beginning to become accustomed to +the young man's eccentricities. Sometimes, when he sat by her for a long +while without speaking, and seemed to be sad and distressed, she was +tempted to ask him what was troubling him; but she dared not; so she +held her peace, and sighed with him, although she did not quite know +why. Melancholy is a disease readily transmitted between two young +people of different sexes. Often the hours of silence are more dangerous +than a conversation devoted to love making. + +Meanwhile, the intimacy between Frédéric and Constance was growing +closer day by day: hardly a week had passed, and they had abandoned that +reserve, that tone of gallantry and of formality, which is never the +tone of friendship or of love. The count talked of returning to Paris, +and Frédéric was surprised to find that he himself had not thought of +it; the week had passed so quickly!--Upon reflection, he was almost +angry with himself; he was remorseful because he had enjoyed himself. +But remorse never comes until after the fact. + +"No," he said to himself, "I have not forgotten Sister Anne. I always +see her when I look at Constance. I always think of her when I have +Constance's lovely features before my eyes; I fancy that I am with her, +when, sitting beside Constance, I quiver with delicious emotion." + +And he was probably still thinking of Sister Anne, when, on the day +before he returned to Paris with his father, as he sat beside Constance +in the garden, he took her hand and held it a long while in his. +Constance did not withdraw her hand. She lowered her eyes, and seemed +deeply moved. Frédéric said nothing, but he pressed her hand very +tenderly; and the sweet-tempered girl, perhaps unconsciously, returned +the pressure. + +Thereupon the young man's embarrassment revived; he dropped the hand he +held, and hastily moved away from Constance, who raised her head, and, +observing his agitation, smiled at him with that indefinable charm which +captures and enslaves. + +"Are you really going to-morrow?" she said. + +"I must," faltered Frédéric, returning to her side; "I should have gone +sooner, I fear---- Ah! yes, it is she, always she, whom I see! I would +like to stay with you forever; I am so happy here! Oh! forgive me, +mademoiselle; I don't know where I am." + +Constance was at a loss to understand this speech; but lovers never know +what they say, or say it very badly; and she readily forgave him, +because she interpreted it all according to her own heart, which told +her that Frédéric loved her; and such sentiments always seem to be well +expressed, for, in love, the eyes speak as loudly as the voice. + +The count took his son back to Paris; but never a word concerning +Constance! Ah! monsieur le comte, you have your project, and you are +well aware what you are doing. A few days later, Frédéric said that they +ought to take advantage of the last of the fine weather to call on the +general; for he was burning to see Constance again--so that he could +think of Sister Anne! + + + + +XX + +LUNEL, DUBOURG, AND MADELON + + +We left Dubourg about to start for Paris. He no longer travelled as a +Polish nobleman, but fared modestly on foot, with a stick in his hand, +which he swung jauntily as if he were simply out for a walk. He had no +bundle to carry, because he had his whole wardrobe on his back, which he +found much more convenient for a pedestrian. He saw at a distance the +localities where he had recently appeared in such magnificent and noble +guise. He passed quite near to Monsieur Chambertin's house, waved his +hand by way of salutation to that hospitable abode, and sighed--not for +its mistress, but for the old pomard in the cellar. + +However, he walked quickly, for he still dreaded a meeting with that +infernal Durosey, whose presence he looked upon as the cause of all his +misfortunes. As he emerged from a narrow pathway into the highroad, he +found himself face to face with old Lunel, who was returning home in +charge of an ass laden with divers objects he had bought at Grenoble. +Dubourg hurriedly pulled his hat over his eyes and lowered his head, +having no desire to be recognized by Monsieur Chambertin's jockey. But +as he walked blindly on, he collided with the ass and nearly threw her +down. + +"Can't you see where you're going, idiot?" exclaimed Lunel; "the road +isn't so narrow that you need to run into my donkey." + +At the word _idiot_, Dubourg, who had never liked the old jockey, for he +had waited upon him with an ill grace during the whole of his sojourn at +Monsieur Chambertin's, and had constantly sought opportunities to show +his spite to him and to Ménard--Dubourg, who had not forgotten, either, +the horsewhipping Lunel had given the two little Poles, turned suddenly +upon him and struck him thrice with his knotted stick. + +"Help! murder!" cried Lunel. + +And as Dubourg's sudden movement had disarranged his hat, the old +servant recognized his features, and shouted louder than ever: + +"It's that miserable palatine, who owes four hundred francs at his +restaurant! It's that sham baron, who showed madame such attention and +surprised monsieur! Peste! he ain't such a swell now!" + +"Will you hold your tongue, you rascal!" said Dubourg, raising his stick +again. + +"What are you hitting me for?" + +"I am simply returning what you gave my servants; I've owed you this a +long while." + +"Your servants--your servants! pretty servants they were! I suppose this +is my _pourboire_, because my master boarded you for a month, you and +your great scholar, who ate enough for six!" + +"If I did your master the honor to visit him, what business have you to +make comments on it, you clown?" + +"Oh, yes! a great honor you did him!" + +"Take care, or I'll begin again." + +As Dubourg still had his cane in the air, the old jockey decided to +lower his tone. He held his peace and looked about for the ass, in order +to go his way; but the animal had disappeared while they were +quarrelling; she had wandered into the underbrush that lined the road, +and was nowhere to be seen. + +"Oh! mon Dieu! my ass! where is my ass?" cried Lunel, searching +anxiously in every direction. + +"Faith! I have no idea. Find your ass, and I'll continue my journey. +Give my compliments to your mistress, and tell your master that, if he +ever comes to Paris, I'll give him a little reception, with fireworks." + +Lunel paid no heed; he ran to right and left, calling: "Madelon! ohé! +Madelon!"--He rushed into a wooded path, and Dubourg, having lost sight +of him, went his way, laughing heartily at the adventure. About half an +hour after he had parted from Lunel, as he reached a place where the +road left the woods for the open country, he saw Madelon within twenty +paces, trotting slowly along with her pack on her back, following such +roads as she pleased, and halting now and then to eat a thistle or a +mouthful of wild briers. + +"Parbleu! this is a strange chance," said Dubourg; "can it be that this +beast is sent to me by Providence? But I must be wary; the law may not +approve of my receiving gifts from Providence. However, I had nothing to +do with diverting this jenny from her road. Am I to blame because she +left her master? Never mind; I will begin by trying to restore her to +him." + +Thereupon he walked back some distance into the forest he had just left, +and began to shout at the top of his lungs: + +"Lunel! holà, Lunel! here's your jenny!" + +There was no reply; Dubourg called again and again, to no purpose. Weary +at last of calling, he returned to the ass, saying to himself: + +"It seems to me that I have done all I can, and my conscience is +beginning to be less troublesome. I can't go back half a league, and I +have no desire to present myself again at the house of my friend +Chambertin, who is no longer my friend. But let us see what this +creature has on her back; it is not probable that there's anything of +much value." + +Dubourg began an examination of the two baskets, which were covered with +stout canvas. In one he found two syringes, one mechanical, marked: _For +madame_; the other plain: _For monsieur_; also, a large box containing a +number of phials and small pasteboard boxes. + +"Oho! I seem to have struck a whole apothecary's shop! But here's a big +sheet of paper. Ah! it's the receipted bill; this will tell me what we +have here. 'Sold by Dardanus, Apothecary, Grenoble, to Madame +Chambertin.' Let us see: 'Tooth powder, salve for the gums, three jars +of superfine rouge, liquid almond paste, macassar oil to dye the hair, +bear's grease to keep it from falling out, Essence of Venus to soften +the skin, rouge _au vinaigre_ for the evening, vegetable blue to make +veins.'--Great God!" exclaimed Dubourg, interrupting his reading; "it's +very lucky that I didn't find this bill a month sooner, for it would +have taken away my courage, and I shouldn't have dared to make pretty +speeches to Madame Chambertin. Let us read on: 'Laxative pastilles, +emollient pills, soothing tablets.'--The deuce! it would seem that +madame is very excitable.--'Two pounds of hygienic chocolate.'--Ah! +that's better. Now, let's see what monsieur requires: 'Three hundred +issue peas.'--Ah! the rascal! that's what keeps his complexion so +fresh.--'Three bottles of Eau de Baréges, salve for corns, ointment for +bunions, cachou pastilles, mint, astringent pills, tonic tablets.'--Hum! +monsieur evidently isn't constipated. That's all of that. Now, let's +have a look at the other basket." + +First of all, he found a box containing an exquisitely curled wig, which +madame probably wore when she had not time to arrange her hair. Also, a +wooden head, designed to hold the wig when it was not in use. Also, a +pair of riding-boots, and doeskin gloves. + +"Deuce take me if I'll walk back to Allevard for a couple of syringes +and a parcel of pills!" said Dubourg, when he had concluded his +examination; "monsieur and madame may go without their supplies for a +few days. I will take possession--although I don't quite know what I am +to do with all these drugs. But I have an idea. Parbleu! an excellent +means of making use of this donkey and of travelling without touching my +purse, which is none too full. Who knows if I may not make my fortune? +Well, the die is cast! I have been a baron, a palatine, and an actor; I +have even played the part of a beast, unwittingly; surely I can play the +charlatan: it's the simplest trade, the easiest of all parts to play, +provided one has ever so little wit, cheek, and loquacity, and I have +all three. A charlatan I am, then. Indeed, who is not, in this world? +everyone plays the part in his own way: men in office with petitioners, +speculators with capitalists, knaves with fools, gallants with women, +coquettes with their lovers, debtors with their creditors, authors with +actors, booksellers with readers, and tradesmen with everybody. I am +one of those who cure all diseases, who divine them and forestall them; +in short, I am a second Cagliostro; I am familiar with the universal +pharmacopoeia, I have no confederate, I deal honorably; I have +discovered a thousand secrets, a single one of which would suffice to +make a man's fortune; and I sell pills for two sous, because I am a +philanthropist." + +Having fully decided to embark upon this new escapade, Dubourg led his +donkey into a dense thicket. There he began operations by removing his +palatine boots, which were badly worn, and throwing them into the +bushes; he replaced them with the long riding-boots, which came halfway +to his hips, so that no one might recognize Baron Potoski in the dealer +in pills; he pulled over his head the blonde wig intended for Madame +Chambertin, having first tied the hair behind and made a Prussian queue; +he daubed his cheeks, forehead, and chin with superfine rouge; then, +mounting Madelon _en croupe_, with the two baskets containing his +itinerant pharmacy in front of him, he resumed his journey, inciting his +steed with his stick, by way of riding-whip. + +Dubourg's singular aspect, his face surrounded by beautiful flaxen +curls, the long queue falling down his back, his high boots, which he +held as far back as possible because the baskets were much in his way, +and, lastly, his majestic bearing, attracted the attention of all the +peasants he met. They called to one another to look at him. They stood +at doors and windows to watch him pass, and at times a number of boys +followed at his heels. Dubourg bowed to right and left, with a +benevolent expression, calling out in a loud tone: + +"Have you any aches or pains, my children, in the foot or the ear? do +you have bad dreams? do you suffer when you are asleep? have you been +beaten? are you blind, dumb, or paralyzed? Draw near; grasp the golden +opportunity! I am the great restorer, the great cure-all, the great +operator! Make haste to profit by my presence in this province; I shall +not come again for thirty years, and probably I shall not find you all +then. Come, my friends; I cure everything, I do everything--I even make +children, when they are ordered in advance. The only thing I don't do is +extract teeth, but I can supply a lotion that makes them drop out, and +the result is the same." + +Peasants are naturally credulous. On hearing this harangue, some of them +approached Dubourg, and, after respectfully removing their hats or +making a reverence, proceeded to tell him their ills. When the number +about him was considerable, Dubourg took from his basket the mechanical +syringe, which he had filled with Eau de Baréges; then he pressed the +spring, and the villagers had to hold their noses; but they remained, +because the syringe played the air _Avec les Jeux dans le Village_, and +Dubourg said: + +"This magic syringe, my children, came to me from the favorite sultana +of the Sultan of Egypt. It plays three hundred tunes; but, as it is +subject to whims, it insists on playing the same one over and over +to-day. This marvellous water that comes from it--it does not smell like +rosewater, by the way--is a prompt and certain remedy for women with the +colic. I sometimes administer these remedies myself, but I have to be +very particular as to persons, for this syringe doesn't fit all +figures." + +After this speech, Dubourg listened to the complaints of each one in +turn, then looked through his pharmacy, and distributed drugs at random, +but received the price with the utmost assurance, promising that the +effects would soon appear. He gave a nurse liquid almond paste; a man +with a fever, cachou pastilles; for a cold, he prescribed pellets that +he had made of the salve for corns; for asthma, macassar oil; for a pain +in the chest, bear's grease; and for the stomach-ache, rouge _au +vinaigre_. + +After this promising début, he belabored Madelon and rode away as fast +as possible from his patients. He was not half a league away, when the +poor creatures began to feel the effects of his remedies. Some held +their hands to their bellies, some were nauseated, some had a violent +headache, some could not endure the taste of the drug they had +swallowed, and some ran after the charlatan, calling him _swindler_ and +_thief_. But he did not wait for them. Luckily, he was prudent enough to +administer his remedies in very small quantities, so that the results +were not serious. + +Dubourg was careful not to attempt any cures in the neighborhood of the +places where he stopped to eat or to sleep. After travelling about forty +leagues in a fortnight,--for, as the great healer halted frequently to +sell his drugs, and as his steed's best gait was a slow trot, he did not +get ahead very fast,--Dubourg found himself one day in front of an +extensive farm. It was a long while since he had sold anything, for as +he drew nearer to the capital he found the country people less and less +gullible. His fortune had not increased. He spent regularly at night +what he had earned during the day; and when his receipts were large, he +fared sumptuously, content to leave his original hoard untouched. + +The appearance of the farm made Dubourg disposed to stop there. As he +had neither bugle nor hunting-horn, he announced his presence with his +mechanical syringe, beating time with his cane on the wig-block. The +farm people came out. Among them Dubourg noticed a fresh, rosy-cheeked +girl, with a mischievous eye and a small foot, and he at once conceived +a fervent desire to become her physician. + +Several buxom dairymaids procured ointments for fever and chilblains, +and a number of peasants bought pastilles of mint and cachou for +toothache; but one and all stared in amazement at the marvellous syringe +that made music, and the wig-block that spoke when it was stormy, as its +owner assured them. + +The pretty girl was a daughter of the farmer, who happened to be absent. +With her was her aunt, a good old soul who believed in dreams, fortune +telling, magic, ghosts, talismans, and sorcerers. She was anxious to +consult Dubourg, because for three nights past she had fallen asleep on +her back and waked up on her stomach, which she considered very +extraordinary. + +"I'll give you something that will keep you from changing your +position," said our charlatan to the old woman, while ogling the young +one; "here are some pastilles that came to me from a native of the +Guinea Coast, who sometimes slept a whole week on his left ear. But if +you take them in moderate doses, you pass a delightful night, and have +charming dreams, divine dreams, such dreams as you had at fifteen! It is +so pleasant, that you don't want to wake up. And then, my dear lady, +when you have taken them, you are certain to dream of any person you +choose; all you need to do is walk round your somno before you go to +bed." + +"Oh! my dear monsieur," said the old woman, "pray give me some of the +pastilles at once; I'll eat some every night. I mean to dream of my +first husband this very night; he was a dear, good man, not a sot like +my second. I'll walk round the somno, monsieur; I won't fail." + +Dubourg gave her a box of laxative pills, which she received with deep +gratitude; then he turned to the young woman and asked her what he could +do for her. + +"_Dame!_ monsieur," she replied, "a week ago, while I was dancing with +Thomas, I fell and sprained my wrist, and since then I haven't been able +to use it as well as usual; have you got anything that will cure that +right away?" + +"Have I, my sweet child! As if I hadn't everything! In a quarter of an +hour, I'll drive away your pain, and it will never come back. All I've +got to do is rub you with a certain ointment of mine; but I must say +some magic words over it, and I can't say them before witnesses; that +would break the spell. So take me to your chamber, or some other place +where we shall be alone, and I'll operate." + +"Shall I, aunt?" asked the farmer's daughter. + +"Shall you!" repeated the good woman; "why, of course. Make the most of +this great man's kindness, and let him rub you." + +The girl made no further objection, but requested Dubourg to follow her. +He fastened his donkey, with his whole outfit, at the farmhouse door, +and walked quickly after his pretty patient, who led him to her chamber +and closed the door, abandoning herself with perfect confidence to the +skill of the sorcerer, whose appearance was rather laughable than +terrifying. + +Meanwhile, the aunt, being in haste to enjoy the effect of the +pastilles, and too impatient to wait for the night in order to dream of +her first husband, had also withdrawn to her apartment, and, having +swallowed a pill and performed the prescribed ceremonial, had gone to +bed and was anxiously awaiting the operation of the charm, which was not +precisely ushered in by prodigies. + +While the ladies were experimenting with Dubourg's specifics, the farmer +came home. He began by inquiring who owned the ass that he found at his +door, and was told that it was the property of the great healer who had +recently arrived. The farmer asked who this great healer was, and his +servants replied that they did not know, but that he was probably a +sorcerer, because he wore his hair in curls, like a woman, and had a +long queue, enormous boots, a syringe that played dance music, and a +wig-block that spoke when it was stormy. + +Now, the farmer was one of those men who are so unfortunate as not to +believe in sorcerers, spells, and magic, who insist on seeing with their +eyes and hearing with their ears, and cannot be convinced that a black +hen evokes the devil, or that the future can be read by means of a +sheep's liver, coffee grounds, or molten lead thrown in water. Such men +are the bane of the occult sciences. + +Vexed by what he learned from his servants, the farmer inquired where +this great healer had gone. They told him that they had seen him go into +the house with the young woman and her aunt. The farmer hurried to the +old lady's chamber and found her in bed, still awaiting the delicious +dream that did not come. + +"Oh! brother! what are you doing?" she cried. "You have disturbed +me--upset me completely. The dream was coming! I was going to see my +first husband, and we were going to pick nuts together. Do go away; +you'll prevent the pill that wonderful man gave me from working." + +"Morbleu!" retorted the farmer; "ain't you nearly through with your +fairy tales and nonsense? Where is your sorcerer? stealing my rabbits, +most likely." + +"What an idea! he's with your daughter, in her room, saying magic words +to cure her wrist." + +"Locked in with my daughter!" cried the farmer; "_morgué!_ we'll see +about this!" + +And he ran to his daughter's chamber without listening to what the old +woman said. He opened the door with a vigorous kick, and it is to be +presumed that he was not pleased with the great healer's method of +healing his daughter; for he seized a broom, and opened the conversation +by striking him with it again and again. + +Dubourg had no time to parley; with a muttered oath, he fled; the girl +wept, the father swore, and the whole household was up in arms. + +Our charlatan, seeing that the farm hands were arming themselves with +clubs in imitation of their master, thought of nothing but his personal +safety; he fled from the farm, abandoning his ass, his syringes, and all +his remedies; all of which was very fortunate for the invalids along the +route he still had to traverse. + + + + +XXI + +LOVE IS ALWAYS THE STRONGEST + + +Dubourg reached Paris at last. He had taken only a few days more than a +month to travel nearly a hundred and eighty leagues; which is not an +inordinately long time, when one makes marvellous cures all along the +road. As he fled from the farm, where his last miracle had been so ill +rewarded, he was careful to throw away his blonde wig with the long +pigtail, which tempted all the little ragamuffins to run after him. He +arrived in the capital rather travel-stained and muddy and unkempt; but +nevertheless he arrived, and went at once to his last lodgings, which no +longer belonged to him, but where he had left a pair of trousers in the +custody of his concierge, an excellent woman, who was rather partial to +ne'er-do-wells, because they are, as a general rule, more open-handed +than virtuous and orderly young men. + +Together with his trousers, the concierge handed him a bulky sealed +package, which Dubourg took with a trembling hand, supposing it to be a +bundle of summonses or judgments; of executions and levies he had no +fear. + +He broke the seal and read a letter which he found inside; an expression +of delirious joy stole over his features, but soon he began to make wry +faces as if he were trying to weep; however, as he could not manage it, +he abandoned the attempt. + +"My dear Madame Benoît," he said to the concierge, "you must often have +heard me speak of my venerable aunt in Bretagne, who used to send me +money sometimes?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Well, she is dead, Madame Benoît--that venerable woman is no more." + +"Ah! mon Dieu! what a misfortune!" + +"Indeed, yes. But I am her only heir; her fortune was not large, but +there is enough for a man to live on, especially if he is prudent and +philosophical." + +"What did she die of, monsieur?" + +"As to that, I'll tell you some other time. I am expected in Bretagne, +and I must start at once." + +"During your absence, monsieur, your friend Monsieur Frédéric has sent +here several times to inquire about you." + +"I will see him when I return; the interests of my inheritance demand my +presence, and they are more important; a man should attend to his own +business before other people's. Adieu, Madame Benoît, adieu! Here, I'll +make you a present of these trousers, for the news you have given me; +you can make a blouse out of them for your daughter. As for myself, I go +away just as I arrived, except that I shall not go on foot this time." + +He ran to the diligence office, having money enough still to pay his +fare; to be sure, that left him only five francs to live on during the +journey, but he put himself on a strict diet, promising to make up for +his abstinence before long. + +The old aunt had left all her property to her nephew, believing him to +be married and a father. He found himself possessed of sixteen hundred +francs a year. A man cannot play the baron with that, but he can live on +it in a modest way, when he is orderly in his habits and economical. +Those were not among Dubourg's qualities, but, like all men, he made a +vow to reform and not to pledge his income. + +"Monsieur," said the attorney who was settling the estate, "your worthy +aunt instructed me to recommend you to be faithful to your wife, and to +give your little triplets a good education." + +"Never fear, monsieur; I shall carry out my dear aunt's wishes to the +letter. My wife and I are like turtle-doves, and my triplets already +love each other like Castor and Pollux." + +Dubourg sold the furniture and personal effects of the deceased, in +order to obtain a supply of ready money. He was detained two months in +Bretagne, at the end of which time he returned to Paris, dressed in +black from head to foot. To signalize his return to virtue, he began by +paying his creditors, and strove to retain the serene expression and +dignified bearing which he had assumed as soon as he learned of his +inheritance. + +He thought of Frédéric, but was still hesitating whether he should write +to him or call on him, when, as he entered a café one evening, he spied +Ménard watching a game of dominoes and absorbed in the play. Dubourg +touched him lightly on the arm; he turned, recognized his former +travelling companion, and could not decide how he ought to receive him. + +"Surely I have the pleasure of seeing my dear friend Monsieur Ménard," +said Dubourg, with a smile. + +"Himself, monsieur le--monsieur du--really, I am not at all sure what I +should call you now." And the ex-tutor smiled, delighted by the epigram +he had achieved. + +"How now, Monsieur Ménard! are we at odds?" + +"Really, monsieur, I ought to bear you a grudge, after all the fables +you told me. Hereafter, if I ever believe you----" + +"Come, come, Monsieur Ménard, let us leave gall and bitterness to +atrabilious souls, and let it not be said of us: _Nec ipsa mors odium +illorum internocinum exstinxit._" + +"Oh, yes! I know that you are very well read," said the tutor, softening +a little; "but that castle of Krapach! And then, to make me act!" + +"Allow me to offer you a cup of coffee, and a glass of Liqueur des +Iles." + +"Very well, if you insist."--And the tutor said to himself, as he +followed Dubourg to a table: "This devil of a fellow has a persuasive +way that seduces you and carries you away; it's impossible to remain +angry with him." + +"Where are you from?" he asked; "my pupil has been looking for you a +long while; he's very anxious to see you." + +"I have just arrived from my province--Bretagne." + +"Ah! so you are from Bretagne? I am not surprised, then, that you were +constantly bringing it into your descriptions of Poland; and then, the +milk and butter that you were always boasting about." + +"Excellent they are, Monsieur Ménard." + +"And what have you been doing in Bretagne?" + +"I have just inherited a very pretty little fortune from my aunt." + +"I'll wager that that isn't true!" + +"O Monsieur Ménard! don't you see that I am in mourning?" + +"That proves nothing; you were dressed as a Polish nobleman when we +walked arm in arm through the streets of Lyon. Oh! when I think of +that----" + +"Do you think also of the delicious dinners I ordered for you?" + +"Of course, of course! Oh! you order a dinner perfectly. But that poor +Monsieur Chambertin! To make him believe that he was entertaining an +illustrious character!" + +"Look you, Monsieur Ménard, I don't see why I'm not as good as another +man----" + +"And to make him give parties and fireworks and magnificent dinners!" + +"Where you did your part wonderfully well." + +"I acted in perfect good faith, myself; I was your accomplice, without +suspecting it. Do you know that you compromised me, and that that was +very ill done of you?" + +"Have a glass of punch; what do you say?" + +"Oh! I am afraid----" + +"It shall be very mild." + +"All right, if it's mild----" + +"Waiter, two glasses of punch." + +"For, you see, my friend, I am not as young as you are, and the follies +which are overlooked in the young admit of no excuse in those of mature +years." + +"You talk like Cicero; but I reply that Cato learned to dance at sixty." + +"Are you quite sure of that?" + +"I didn't see it; but our follies were very reasonable ones.--Let us +take a drink." + +"I admit that we didn't injure anybody, after all. This punch is good, +very good. But when you made me run across fields on account of that +imaginary Turk----" + +"Faith! I'll admit that he was a creditor; but aren't they Turks to +their unfortunate debtors?--Another drink." + +"It is true that creditors---- Look you, my dear Dubourg, you have all +the qualities of a charming companion: you know all the good authors, +you know history; take my advice, reform, settle down----" + +"I have done it; it's all over now: no more gambling, no more escapades, +no more drunkenness.--But we aren't drinking." + +"Your health, my dear friend!" + +"No more fairy tales, no more lies." + +"Ah, yes! no more lies, above all; for lying destroys confidence; and +then, you made me look like an idiot." + +"Oh! not altogether." + +"That's a very handsome seal ring of yours." + +"It's an emerald that was worn by Ali Pacha." + +"It's magnificent." + +"Another glass." + +"Dear Dubourg! My friend, I am extremely glad to have renewed my +acquaintance with you." + +The liqueur and the punch had completely melted Ménard, who, when he +parted from Dubourg, called him his loving friend, and assured him that +he might safely go to the Hôtel de Montreville, that monsieur le comte +bore him no ill-will and would receive him cordially. + +On the day following this meeting, Dubourg did, in fact, call upon +Frédéric, who had just returned from the general's country house. He +passed all his time with Mademoiselle de Valmont. As it was no longer +necessary that he should be accompanied by his father, for the general +treated him like his own son, he made the most of the liberty accorded +him. Every day, he invented some pretext for going to see Constance; for +he persisted in deluding himself, in excusing himself in his own eyes, +and strove to persuade himself that there was no trace of love in the +feeling that drew him to the general's niece. He still thought of Sister +Anne, but no longer with the same ardor and affection, and that was what +he refused to acknowledge to himself; perhaps, if he should see her +again, it would still be inexpressibly sweet to him to hold her in his +arms. But it was not she whom he saw, it was Constance; Constance, who +was more amiable, more tender, more sentimental with him, day by day; +who felt such unbounded pleasure in seeing him and made no attempt to +conceal it. Already there was the closest intimacy between them. When +she passed two or three days without seeing him, she would reproach him +good-naturedly, and avow that she was vexed at his absence; and she said +it with such perfect candor and sincerity that Frédéric was deeply +touched. However, he had never breathed a word of love to her; but is it +necessary to speak to make one's self understood? and what woman, in +Constance's place, would not have believed that she was loved? + +At sight of Dubourg, Frédéric made a gesture of surprise; a keen +observer might even have detected a trace of embarrassment. + +"Here I am," said Dubourg; "I have been in Paris only a week." + +"Yes, I supposed that you were away. But why this mourning?" + +"Ah! my friend, my poor aunt--she is no more!" + +At this point, Dubourg drew his handkerchief and blew his nose three or +four times. + +"Come, come, Dubourg, stop blowing your nose; you know perfectly well +that you're not crying." + +"Never mind; she was a most respectable old lady: she has left me +sixteen hundred francs a year." + +"That is something; try not to gamble it away." + +"What do you say? Why, écarté is like an emetic to me. But tell me about +your love affairs. Do you know, you don't seem to me to look any too +wretched for an unhappy lover." + +"But I---- Since my father suddenly appeared at Grenoble, where I had +gone to find out something about you, I have not been able to see that +poor girl, we started for Paris so hurriedly! Since then, he hardly +leaves my side. I could write--but who would read my letters? we can't +use that method; and I don't know how to communicate with her." + +"Well, I can tell you something." + +"Have you seen her?" + +"Yes; but it was a long while ago--about a fortnight after you left." + +"Well! where was she? what was she doing?" + +"Where was she? in the woods, returning from the road, where she had +been watching for you, no doubt. What was she doing?--weeping; that is +her only resource now, I fancy." + +"She was weeping!" + +"Yes; and I confess that she made my heart ache." + +"Poor child! but you spoke to her, I suppose--she saw you? Tell me about +it." + +"She saw me; indeed, she recognized me, although she had seen me only +once. You didn't tell me that she was dumb, but I very soon understood +her pantomime. She counted off the days you had been away, and asked me +if you would return soon. I told her _yes_." + +"Ah! you did well." + +"But that was three months ago." + +"True: but I haven't been able----" + +"I left her at last, after giving her a little hope; I could do nothing +more for her; but in three months that hope must have vanished." + +Dubourg said no more, and Frédéric sat for some moments buried in +melancholy reflections. + +"If you knew, Dubourg," he said at last, "what a most surprising thing +has happened to me!" + +"I should know, if you told me." + +"It is really inconceivable; it is a stroke of fate. On returning to +Paris, I found Sister Anne." + +"You found her here?" + +"Yes; I saw her again--in another woman, the niece of Général de +Valmont, a former comrade in arms of my father. Why, my friend, it is an +astonishing thing--I never saw such a perfect resemblance." + +"Ah! I begin to understand." + +"If you should see Constance,--that is the name of the general's +niece,--you would be as surprised as I was--not at once, but on a close +examination." + +"Ah! you were surprised after some time, eh?" + +"It's her eyes--their sweet expression. Constance's are a little darker, +to be sure. The hair is the same color; the forehead as high and noble; +the same complexion--but Constance isn't as pale as Sister Anne. The +same expression in the features." + +"I am surprised that a general's niece should have all the features of a +goatherd." + +"Of course, there's the difference due to rank and education and social +customs. In the first place, Constance is much taller; she has a +beautiful, well-proportioned figure; but so has Sister Anne. Constance +has the grace, the dignified carriage which no one can attain who lives +in the woods." + +"Ah! you have discovered that now." + +"And she has a charming voice, an enchanting voice, that goes to the +very bottom of your heart. Well, my friend, when I listen to her, I +persuade myself that the poor orphan is no longer dumb; I imagine that I +am listening to her; her voice, I am sure, would have the same sweet +quality, the same fascination. So that I am deeply moved when I listen +to that other voice." + +"I doubt whether that emotion would make Sister Anne very happy." + +"But it is impossible for me not to feel it. Tell me, isn't it strange +that there should be such a resemblance?" + +"Exceedingly strange, no doubt; but I fancy that it would be less +striking to my eyes. I am no longer surprised at your leaving the little +one in her woods. You have found her here, you see her, and listen to +her--a pleasure that you did not enjoy when you were with her. You are +privileged to gaze upon her every day, at your leisure; here, she has +graces and talents which she did not have down yonder. It is extremely +convenient. I congratulate you. I can understand that you don't need to +bother your head about the one who is far away, in her cabin or on the +hilltop, watching for you to come, since you can still be with her, +without putting yourself out, and since she is more lovely and +fascinating here than there." + +There was an undercurrent of satire, of reproach, in Dubourg's tone that +made Frédéric lower his eyes. + +"No," he said, with evident embarrassment, "no, I will not desert Sister +Anne. I shall certainly go to see her--I haven't forgotten her, for I +think of her every day. Is it my fault that I find all her features in +another woman's? On the contrary, isn't it a proof that I am always +thinking of her? But really it is surprising; Mademoiselle de Valmont +resembles her so closely--in spite of some slight differences--she is so +sweet and kind! her voice moves me so deeply! Ah! I would like you to +see Constance!" + +Dubourg did not reply at once, and for some minutes there was silence +between them. Dubourg broke it at last. + +"Look you, Frédéric, I confess that I am sorry that I saw that +girl--that I saw her waiting for you and weeping." + +"Why so?" + +"Why? Because I imagine that I still see her, and, despite my +heedlessness, I feel--it makes me unhappy. I am nothing more than a +reckless chap, a libertine, a ne'er-do-well, if you please; but, after +all, I prefer my way of loving to yours. With your great passions, which +are destined never to end, but which do end just like others, you +wheedle inexperienced young hearts, sentimental women, who allow +themselves to be touched by your sighs, your noble sentiments; they give +themselves to you, and then--why, they weep and tear their hair over +your inconstancy. Faith! I know none but women of easy virtue, grisettes +or coquettes, who, if they're no better, are at least more lively. They +deceive me, I deceive them, we deceive each other; it's all understood +and accepted beforehand. But we don't rave about it; we weep only for +sport; and when we fall out altogether, it doesn't make us melancholy. I +agree that the ladies I speak of are not absolutely virtuous; but for an +amourette, a caprice, should we seek that flower of pure sentiment, an +inexperienced heart that knows love only from romantic novels in which +it is always painted in colors that, while they may be very seductive, +are altogether false? No; on the contrary, I think that it's barbarous +to try to win a girl's whole heart, to inspire a great passion, and then +to leave your victim to waste her best days in tears and despair." + +"Why do you say this to me? I still love Sister Anne; I am not +unfaithful to her. Is it my fault that my father dragged me back to +Paris all of a sudden? and that it has been impossible for me to absent +myself since then? Most certainly I shall see her again, I shall not +abandon her; she is still dear to me." + +"Pshaw! Frédéric, don't talk that humbug to me! Do you want to make me +believe that my nose is crooked? I tell you, I'm an old hand, and I am +not to be hoodwinked; indeed, I may have read your heart better than you +have yourself. You no longer love Sister Anne, or at least you are no +longer enamored of her; for you are burning now for this fascinating +Constance, who is a perfect image of the poor dumb girl, except that she +is taller and stouter, has darker eyes and a different complexion, +and----" + +"No, no, Dubourg! I swear that I am not in love with Constance; I love +her--like a brother--but no word of love has ever passed my lips." + +"Well, I give you my word that that will soon come. Oh! it's of no use +for you to look up at the sky; I tell you that you are in love with +Mademoiselle Constance. I don't charge you with it as a crime; it's +perfectly natural: she is pretty, she attracts you--and why not? But +what I do blame is your prowling about in the woods after that poor +little creature who has no knowledge of the world or men, and who +yielded to your seductions and believed all your oaths, because they +were the first oaths she had ever heard. What was wrong was your +inspiring in her heart an exalted passion, which will ruin her life, +because she has nothing there in the woods to divert her thoughts. If, +yielding to a sudden temptation, you had seduced her and then left her +at once, the pain would have been sharp, but it wouldn't have lasted so +long; she wouldn't have had time to love you so dearly; but you always +have to run things into the ground. You abandon everything to live in +the woods--in order not to be separated from her; for six weeks, you +don't leave her for a single moment; you eat nuts together and lie on +the grass; you would live on roots, if need be, in order to speak of +love to her. How in the devil do you think that that can fail to turn +her head? The girl has reached a point where she cannot do without you; +she lives and breathes for you alone; she imagines that that sort of +life will last forever; and then--presto! my gentleman vanishes; +good-evening, it's all over! Weep, and tear your hair! you won't see him +again.--But I have seen her, and I'm almighty sorry; for I fancy that I +see her still, pale, dishevelled, walking without seeing, listening +without hearing, and, absorbed by a single thought, keeping her +tear-dimmed eyes fixed on the road by which he went away; then returning +to her poor cabin, to weep on; and so again the next day, and forever! +And remember that she has not even the one poor consolation of the +unhappy, the power to complain and pour her sorrows into a friend's +bosom. That is what you have caused, and it isn't the noblest chapter in +your history. That is what you would have avoided if you had not +followed the guidance of your romantic ideas, or if you had paid your +addresses to women of the world only." + +Frédéric made no response; he seemed to be lost in thought. + +"My friend," continued Dubourg, taking his hand, "I have told you just +what I think; you ought not to be angry. Moreover, all that one can say +to a lover never makes any difference; he always follows his own +impulses solely. I know, too, that you cannot marry Sister Anne. +Parbleu! if a man had to marry all the charmers he has loved, I should +have as many wives as King Solomon. I tell you simply that it gave me +great pain to---- But, enough of that! I am none the less your friend, +do with me as you will. Adieu! I am going to dine at a thirty-two-sou +ordinary, because when a man has an income of sixteen hundred francs a +year and wants to keep it, he doesn't go to Beauvilliers." + +Long after Dubourg had gone, Frédéric remained where he had left him, +absorbed in his reflections. Argue as he would, Dubourg had opened his +eyes to the state of his heart, and, although he still tried to delude +himself, he knew that he was no longer the dumb girl's devoted, ardent, +faithful lover, who was ready to sacrifice everything in order to pass +his days with her. + +It is hard for a man to admit his faults to himself, and even when he +does he always finds some excuse to palliate his conduct, and says to +himself that he could not have done otherwise. Especially in love do we +reason thus, and the last passion, being always the strongest, speedily +vanquishes its predecessor. + +Frédéric, cudgelling his brains for some means of repairing the wrong he +had done, said to himself: + +"I will see Sister Anne again, I will not leave her to pass her life in +a wretched hovel, cut off from all intercourse with society; I will buy +her a pretty cottage, with a lovely garden, and some cows and sheep; I +will surround her with everything that will make her life pleasant and +happy; I will find some village girl, of her own age, to wait upon her, +whose presence will enliven her; she will live there with old +Marguerite, and she shall have everything that she needs; the sight of +her neighbors, of the passers-by, and of the people at work in the +fields, with her own household cares, will drive away her melancholy; I +will go to see her sometimes, and she will be happy." + +Happy, without Frédéric! No; to Sister Anne, that was impossible. +Comfort, even wealth, would not compensate her for the loss of her love; +for Sister Anne was not brought up in Paris; she could not conceive that +anyone could prefer diamonds and fine clothes to joys of the heart, or +that a wrong could be atoned for with gold. Nor, five months earlier, +could Frédéric have conceived it; but as he could readily do so now, it +was natural that he should believe that Sister Anne could do the same: +we judge others' hearts by our own. + +For several days, Frédéric, tormented by what Dubourg had said to him, +had the dumb girl's image constantly before his eyes; even when he was +with Constance, his melancholy, which had at one time almost +disappeared, seemed to weigh upon him more heavily than ever. The +general and his niece had returned to Paris. Frédéric was able to see +Constance every day. But he trembled when he entered her presence, and +she, though surprised by his dejection, dared not ask him the cause of +it; but her eyes, when they met Frédéric's, spoke for her, and revealed +all the concern she felt for his secret sorrow, and often, too, her +longing to know its cause. + +In his desire to be relieved from his anxiety, and to have news of +Sister Anne, Frédéric several times urged Dubourg to go to Vizille, to +see the poor girl and try to comfort her. But on that point Dubourg was +immovable. + +"I will not go," he said; "I saw her once, and that was quite enough. I +have no desire to see her again, and then have unpleasant thoughts for +six weeks--I, who never knew what such thoughts were. Besides, my +presence would not comfort her; she wouldn't believe anything that I +could say to her, because I lied to her once; so my journey would do no +good and would not change her plight at all." + +As he could not induce Dubourg to take the journey, Frédéric decided to +ask his father's permission to leave Paris for a fortnight. Not until +after long hesitation did he determine upon that step; but his remorse +was troublesome, he was constantly tormented by the memory of the poor +mute, and he was persuaded that he would be calmer and less +conscience-stricken after he had seen her. + +For some time past, the count had treated his son most affectionately; +convinced that he had entirely forgotten the person who had fascinated +him during his stay in Dauphiné, and having no doubt of his love for +Mademoiselle de Valmont, the count had entirely laid aside his former +sternness of manner with Frédéric; he hoped soon to see the plan he had +formed successfully carried out, being confident in advance of the +general's consent; so that he was greatly surprised when his son asked +his permission to leave Paris for a few days. + +The Comte de Montreville's brow became clouded and severe, and Frédéric, +who was accustomed to tremble before his father, anxiously awaited his +reply. + +"Where do you want to go?" asked the count, after a brief silence. + +Frédéric attempted to stammer some pretext, but the count did not give +him time. + +"Don't try to beat about the bush; I don't like it. You are still +thinking of a woman who interested you during your journey, and for +whom, I know, you committed a thousand follies. I thought, I confess, +that you had become reasonable; I thought that the memory of that fancy +had long since vanished from your mind--I do not say from your heart, +for the heart has no concern in such affairs." + +"Ah! father, if you knew her!" + +"Enough, monsieur! You do not propose to marry your conquest, I presume? +Still, it is possible that you have some wrongs to undo. I do not know +this girl. Perhaps you are more culpable than I think; perhaps she whom +you seduced, or led astray, is now cast off and abandoned through your +fault, and is living in want. If her misfortunes can be mended with +money, you may be sure that I will not spare it, monsieur; but I will +attend to the business, not you." + +"You, father?" + +"Yes, monsieur, I; I shall be better able to arrange it than anyone +else. So you need not leave Paris now. Besides," the count continued, +after a moment's thought, "your presence here is indispensable. The +general expects to marry his niece to a young colonel, who will probably +arrive in Paris very soon." + +"The general expects to marry his niece!" echoed Frédéric. Already his +features had assumed a different expression: sadness and melancholy were +succeeded by violent emotion, a jealous perturbation which was manifest +in his excited glance, and which made it impossible for him to remain +seated. His voice trembled, and, as he questioned his father, it seemed +as if his life or death hung upon the answer he was to receive. + +"Yes," said the count, in an indifferent tone, pretending not to notice +Frédéric's state of mind, "yes; and, for my part, I see nothing +surprising about it." + +"And--this colonel is coming to Paris? Do you know him, father? Is he +young? Is he supposed to be handsome? Mademoiselle de Valmont loves him, +of course?" + +"You don't think that I am in Mademoiselle de Valmont's confidence, do +you? She met the colonel in society, I presume. I believe he's a young +man of twenty-eight or thirty." + +"Good-looking?" + +"Oh! whether he's good-looking or ugly, isn't an honorable man always +attractive?" + +"And this marriage is all arranged?" + +"So it seems." + +"And Mademoiselle Constance has never mentioned it to me!" + +"Why on earth should she have told you beforehand of something that a +well-bred young woman never mentions?" + +"Oh! of course--I had no claim--there was no reason why I should +know--and still, I should have thought----" + +"Besides, it is possible that the general hasn't mentioned his plans to +his niece as yet." + +"And this is the reason why I must stay in Paris?" + +"To be sure; at such times, there are innumerable details to be attended +to--clothes and presents and wedding festivities; the general, being +accustomed to camp life, knows nothing about such things; a bachelor +always needs advice, and he relies on you to help him." + +"Indeed! that's very kind of him; I am highly flattered that he +considers me good enough for that." + +"So, Frédéric, I say again that you must not think of leaving Paris +now." + +This argument was no longer necessary. The count left the house to call +upon his old friend, to whom he had something to say privately; and +Frédéric, long after his father's departure, was completely crushed by +what he had learned. Poor Sister Anne! your image had vanished. + +Pale and excited, hardly able to breathe, Frédéric paced the floor of +his apartment, now throwing himself into a chair for a moment, then +springing abruptly to his feet, sighing, and clenching his fists +convulsively. It was in that frame of mind that Dubourg found him when +he came to bid him good-bye, for Frédéric had told him of his projected +journey. + +"What in God's name is the matter, Frédéric?" he said, pausing in the +doorway, alarmed to see him in that condition. "Come, won't you speak, +instead of rushing about like this and banging the furniture?" + +"Who would have believed it? who would have thought it?" said Frédéric, +dropping into a chair. "Ah! these women!" + +"Oho! so it's a question of women, is it? I begin to feel less alarmed." + +"With such an honest face, such lovely eyes, to conceal such perfidy! +for it is perfidy! she ought to have told me that she loved another. To +welcome me so cordially! to seem so pleased to see me! Oh! it's +horrible!" + +"There's no doubt of that. Whom are you talking about?" + +"Mademoiselle de Valmont--Constance. She is so lovely! so sweet!" + +"Oh, yes! and she looks so much like Sister Anne!" + +"Would you believe, my friend, that she is going to be married--to a +young colonel whom I don't know, but whom she loves--that goes without +saying; whom I have never seen, and who is coming to Paris very soon to +marry her?" + +"Mademoiselle de Valmont is going to be married?" + +"Yes, Dubourg." + +"Well, what difference does that make to you? you don't love her; you're +not in love with her; no word of love has ever passed your lips; you are +her brother, her friend, nothing more. You told me this yourself, within +a month." + +"No, I certainly do not love her; but one owes some regard, some mark of +confidence, to a friend; and when you see a person every day----" + +"Oho! you see her every day, do you?" + +"She might have told me, have let fall a hint. Ah! I never would have +believed it, Constance!" + +"By the way, have you given up going to Dauphiné? I say--Frédéric! +Frédéric!" + +But he was already far away, running like a madman to Mademoiselle de +Valmont; and Dubourg left the house, saying to himself: + +"He's a good one to accuse women of perfidy! Ah! these men!--I must go +and dine. I don't know how it has happened, but I am already in debt at +my restaurant, and the month has only half gone!" + +When Frédéric reached the general's house, he had formed no plan of +action, and had no idea what he was going to say or do. He entered the +house, where his was a familiar presence, and walked rapidly through +several rooms to the salon where Constance usually sat. She was there, +seated at her piano. Seeing that she was intent upon her music and as +placid as ever, Frédéric stood for a moment, gazing at her. + +Constance turned her head when she heard footsteps. She smiled when she +recognized her visitor, whose excitement she did not notice at once. + +"Is it you, monsieur," she said; "I am glad you have come; you are a +good musician and can help me decipher this piece." + +The young man did not reply, but continued to gaze at Constance, who, +being accustomed to his peculiar and often taciturn humor, did not at +first observe that anything was wrong; but, finding that he did not +approach, she turned again, and then his evident excitement did not +escape her notice. + +"What is the matter, monsieur?" she asked, with manifest concern; "you +seem excited." + +"Oh! nothing's the matter, mademoiselle; what could be the matter?" + +"I am sure I don't know; you are not in the habit of telling me your +troubles." + +There was a faint tinge of reproach in the tone in which Constance made +this remark. Frédéric sat down beside her, and seemed to try to read in +her eyes; never before had he looked at her with such an expression, and +Constance, in her surprise, felt that she was blushing, and averted her +lovely eyes. + +"You are afraid that I shall guess what is taking place in your heart," +said Frédéric, affecting an ironical tone to dissemble his suffering. + +"I, monsieur! on my word, I don't know what you mean; I don't understand +you. Why should I fear to allow my thoughts to be read? I am conscious +of no guilt; and if it were otherwise, you are not the one to reprove +me." + +"Oh! certainly not! you are entirely free as to your feelings, +mademoiselle; I know that I have no claim to your heart." + +"Mon Dieu! what is the matter, Monsieur Frédéric? really, you alarm me; +your agitation is not natural." + +"What is the matter! Ah! Constance, you love another, and you ask me +that question!" + +Mademoiselle de Valmont was speechless with surprise; Frédéric had never +called her by that name before, and are not the words: "You love +another" equivalent to: "You should love no one but me"? A wave of +blissful emotion surged in Constance's heart, which beat faster and with +greater force; joy and happiness shone in her eyes, and her voice was +softer than ever, as she said: + +"I, love another! Mon Dieu! what does he mean? Explain yourself, +Frédéric: I don't understand." + +The dear girl had understood but one thing, and that was that Frédéric +did not want her to love another; and that was enough to make her +understand that he loved her. For a long time, she had hoped that she +had inspired the sweetest of sentiments in Frédéric's heart; but he had +never said a word to her on the subject, nothing that signified: "I love +you;" and even when everything tends to that conclusion, a woman longs +none the less to hear the words. + +Again Frédéric was silent; he sighed long and loud, but said nothing. + +"Will you speak, monsieur? what has happened to disturb you so +to-day?--what have I done to deserve your reproaches? Explain yourself +clearly; I insist upon it--do you hear, monsieur? I insist upon it." + +The expression of her voice was so tender that Frédéric could not resist +the temptation to look at her again, and doubtless her eyes were in +accord with her voice, for he gazed at them several minutes in a sort of +ecstasy; but suddenly he cried again: + +"What an unhappy wretch I am!" + +"You unhappy, Frédéric? Why so?" + +"You are going to be married." + +"Married! This is the first I've heard of it." + +"Oh! it's useless for you to try to conceal it from me; I know all, +mademoiselle: I know that your future husband will be here in a few +days, that he's a colonel, and that you love him." + +"What do you say? a colonel? and I love him? Upon my word, this is +rather strong! What is the name of this colonel I am going to marry, if +you please?" + +"His name! Faith! I forgot to ask that. But you must know perfectly well +whom I mean. Will you say that you don't know a colonel?" + +"Several colonels have called on my uncle, but----" + +"Ah! several of them--you admit it now." + +"Who told you, monsieur, that I am going to be married?" + +"Someone who is absolutely certain of it: my father, who learned it from +your uncle." + +"From my uncle? Why, I can't understand this at all." + +"You pretend not to understand; but, I doubt not, you are impatiently +waiting for your future husband's arrival." + +Constance reflected for some little time, then replied in a tone which +she struggled to make indifferent: + +"Really, monsieur, I am very much surprised by what you have told me; +but, after all, suppose it to be true that I am to be married--how does +it concern you? I imagine that it is a matter of the utmost indifference +to you." + +"Ah! you think that, do you? You are quite right, mademoiselle; of +course, it cannot make any difference to me." + +"Very well! then why do you ask me all these questions, monsieur?" + +"Why? O Constance! are you going to be married? and this colonel--do you +really love him?" + +"And if I did love anyone--would that cause you any grief?" + +She was determined to force him to the wall and make him avow his +sentiments. Frédéric could contain himself no longer; his heart could +not keep its secret. + +"Yes," he cried, "I love you, I adore you! I shall die if you marry +another man!" + +"He loves me!--Ah! it's very lucky that I have extorted that from you! I +thought you would never say it." + +And the blushing girl gave her hand to Frédéric, who had fallen at her +feet; and he covered that hand with kisses, while she said to him with +deep earnestness: + +"Ah! Frédéric, I love you, too. I shall never love anyone else. Why, my +dear, did you not long ago say those words, which make me so happy, and +which I have been expecting so long? My uncle is very fond of me; he +will never do anything to make me unhappy. If it be true that he has +planned a marriage for me--he has never mentioned the subject--why, he +must abandon it, for I will tell him that I will marry no one but you, +that you alone can obtain my heart and hand; and he will consent, I am +certain of it. He is fond of you too, Frédéric; indeed, who would not +be? You see, you do wrong to be sad and depressed, and to conceal your +sorrows from me. My dear, I read your heart long ago; should you not +have been able to read mine?" + +Frédéric replied only by protestations of love; he was beside himself +with joy; Mademoiselle de Valmont's avowal had disturbed his reason; not +without difficulty did she succeed in calming him, and he did not leave +her until she had repeated her solemn promise that she would never give +her hand to another. + +Frédéric left the house in a very different frame of mind from that in +which he had entered it. The certainty that Constance loved him had +revolutionized all his ideas in an instant: in his delirious joy, Sister +Anne was entirely forgotten; he did not even feel a pang of remorse. +Like those sick persons who, when the fever is at its height, are +unconscious of pain, he said to himself again and again: + +"Dubourg was quite right: I do love Constance, I adore her! I can never +again love anybody else." + +Two days after this declaration, the Comte de Montreville, well assured +that his son no longer thought of leaving Constance, set out for +Dauphiné, in his own carriage, attended by a single servant and a +postilion. + + + + +XXII + +DEATH OF MARGUERITE.--SISTER ANNE LEAVES HER CABIN + + +Let us now return to the dumb girl in the woods, whom we left awaiting +Frédéric's coming, and whom we shall find still awaiting him. + +But the trees have lost their foliage; the fields no longer offer to the +eye the pleasing prospect of luxuriant vegetation; there is no green +turf in the valley, no verdure on the banks of the stream. The leaves +have fallen, and the villager's steps are deadened by that which shaded +him and embellished his garden a few days since. He tramples under foot +the beautiful foliage to which the approach of a harsher season has +brought death. Thus do all things pass away. Other foliage will be born, +only to die in its turn; and the man who tramples upon it must likewise +return to the dust whereon future generations will tread. He fancies +himself of some account because his allotted time is longer; but when +the ages have dispersed his ashes, what more will he have left behind +him than those leaves have done which whirl about in the wind at his +feet? + +The autumn disposes us to melancholy; it brings reverie and reflection, +not to him who lives in the city, detained in the vortex of the world by +the necessities of business or pleasure, but to the man of the fields +who can contemplate each day the successive changes in the face of +nature. Not without emotion does he look upon the forest, whose black, +skeleton-like trees seem to be in mourning for the spring; if he walks +along a path but lately shaded by dense foliage, if he seeks the thicket +where he was wont to rest during the heat of the day, he sees naught but +dry branches, often broken by the poor man's hand. The forest is less +dark than in summer, for the sunlight finds its way in on all sides. But +that brightness, far from embellishing it, robs it of all its charm; one +regrets the dark, mysterious paths, through which it is so pleasant to +wander in the season of love. + +As he watches the approach of the frost and snow, as he contemplates the +effects of the winter's cold, man, always buoyed up by hope, says to +himself: + +"The spring will come again; I shall see once more my leafy lanes, my +lawns, and my shrubs." + +The spring comes again--but many men do not see it! + +Sister Anne observed the change in the season only because it emphasized +the length of time that had elapsed since Frédéric left her. The unhappy +child could no longer count the days; their number was too great. +However, hope had not vanished from her heart; she could not believe +that her lover intended to abandon her forever; sometimes, she imagined +that he had ceased to live, and then the blackest despair took +possession of her thoughts. When that idea forced itself upon her, life +seemed to be only one long agony. Could she live on, unsustained by the +hope of seeing her lover? Often she longed to die. But she was soon to +be a mother; that thought made her cling to life once more; something +told her that she must live for her child. + +It was a very long time since she had been to the village. An old +shepherd, who went back and forth through the woods, was in the habit of +leaving every day, at the foot of a tree, the loaf of rye bread +required by the occupants of the cabin, and always found there, in +exchange, a large pitcher filled with milk. This bread, with milk and +fresh eggs, was all that the two poor women ate in winter. When Sister +Anne had finished preparing the meal, and had given the old woman all +that she required, she drove her goats to the hilltop, and seated +herself at the foot of her mother's tree. Despite the cold, which was +beginning to be severe, the girl did not fail to go thither a single +day. Wrapped in a wretched woollen cloak, half worn out, she defied the +rigor of the season, although the garment was but little protection to +her; her goats, finding nothing on the hill to browse upon, huddled at +her feet; and Sister Anne, her features pinched and worn by her +condition and her sufferings, presented only too faithfully the image of +poverty and sorrow. + +More than once, the snow, falling in great flakes, formed an icy cloak +about her body, so that the poor girl's form could hardly be +distinguished from the ground she lay upon; and often she removed her +cloak to cover her shivering companions. The traveller who happened to +pass over the hill could make out nothing in that snow-covered group +save the dumb girl's head, always turned toward the road to the town. +But, unheeding the cold, she did not realize that her whole body +shivered, that her teeth chattered, that her limbs stiffened; she was +unconscious of physical suffering; a single sentiment absorbed her whole +being, and the pain it caused left her no feeling for any other. + +When the darkness made it impossible for her to see the road, she rose +and looked at herself, amazed to find that she was almost buried in +snow. Then she would shake her cloak, caress her goats, and slowly +descend the hill to the cabin and old Marguerite. When the old woman was +asleep, and she threw herself on her solitary couch, she no longer found +love there, nor even rest, to which she had long been a stranger. The +memory of her lover was there, as it was everywhere. If only she could +express her grief in words, call to him and implore him to return! It +seemed to her that her voice would reach his ears.--Poor girl! heaven +had deprived you of that priceless organ. Tears! always tears! those +were all that remained to you! + +But, meanwhile, Sister Anne saw that old Marguerite was failing from day +to day. For a long while she had not left the house; she was hardly able +to totter to her great armchair. Marguerite was seventy-six years of +age; she had led an active, laborious life, and her old age was placid; +she had no disease and did not suffer; age alone was wearing out her +strength, which was daily diminishing. She was going out like a lamp +whose light has been soft and mellow; she had not shone with great +brilliancy, but she had been useful, which is far preferable. + +The hour fixed by nature drew near; Marguerite was destined not to see +another spring. Sister Anne redoubled her loving attentions to her +adopted mother; observing the gradual weakening of her faculties, she +gave up going to the hilltop, in order to be always with her. She could +have made no greater sacrifice. Good Marguerite, touched by her +devotion, smiled at her affectionately, and called her her dear child. + +But one morning, when Sister Anne went as usual to her mother's bed to +ask how she had passed the night, Marguerite did not answer, or, as her +custom was, hold out her trembling hand. Her eyes were closed, never to +open again. Sister Anne was terrified; she seized the old woman's +hand--it was cold and inert, and she tried in vain to warm it in her +own. She stooped and kissed Marguerite's forehead, but no smile rewarded +her. + +The girl stood by her aged companion's bedside, overwhelmed with grief; +she gazed at the venerable features of her who had taken care of her +from childhood, of her only friend, who had been taken from +her!--Marguerite seemed like one asleep; the serenity of her face +indicated the serenity of her mind in its last moments. Sister Anne, +standing beside the bed, with one hand resting upon it, could not tire +of gazing at her adopted mother. Her grief was calm, but none the less +profound; her eyes were dry, but their expression was none the less +heartrending. + +She passed a large part of the day beside the good woman's lifeless +remains; not without difficulty did she succeed in tearing herself away; +but she knew that she must perform the last duties for Marguerite, that +she must consign her to her last resting-place; and she realized that +she was incapable of doing it alone, without assistance. She must go to +the village, therefore, where she had not been seen for a long while. + +She left her cabin and went out of the woods on her way to Vizille. As +she passed, she bowed, as usual, to those of the village women whom she +knew; but she could not understand why they turned their heads away, or +stared at her with contempt. Instead of stopping, as their custom was, +to bid her good-day, they walked quickly away, and seemed desirous to +avoid meeting her. The young men looked at her with mocking smiles; some +pointed at her, whispering to one another; and not upon a single face +did she observe the marks of interest which they were accustomed to +manifest. + +"What can be the matter?" thought the poor child; "everybody seems to +avoid me; is it because I am more unhappy than ever, because I have lost +my kind mother, and Frédéric has abandoned me?" + +She forgot that she bore the testimony of her weakness; that pledge of +love, of which she was so proud, was, in the eyes of the peasants, a +proof of her shame. In villages, people are more severe than in cities; +they set great store by innocence, because it is often the only treasure +they possess. The good people of Vizille held very austere views on the +subject of such falls from virtue: a girl who had been seduced became an +object of general contempt, so long as her seducer did not repair her +fault before the altar. Perhaps they should have been more indulgent to +the dumb girl, who, living in the woods, did not know that she was +culpable in yielding to the promptings of her heart. But peasants do not +reason; they act in obedience to habit, and often mechanically. They had +shown deep interest, so long as she was innocent as well as unfortunate; +now that she bore manifest proofs of her weakness, they spurned her, +without waiting to inquire whether she was not more unfortunate than +before. + +At last she reached the village, unable to understand the conduct of the +people, having no idea why the young girls fled at her approach without +deigning to answer her signs, or why their parents stared at her with a +stern, disdainful air. + +She knocked at the door of a cottage, the owners of which were friends +of Marguerite. The woman who opened the door made a gesture of surprise +when she saw her, then drove her away from the house. Sister Anne tried +to insist and to make her understand the loss she had met with; but, +refusing to notice her signs, the woman pushed her into the street, +where a number of peasants had assembled and stood staring at her. + +"How do you dare to come to the village in that state?" asked an old +man; "to show your face here and try to get into our houses? You're +carrying the token of your shame; you'd do better to hide it in your +woods. And you come here and show yourself to our daughters! Do you do +it to let them admire your pretty behavior, and set them an example? Off +with you, Clotilde's child! you ought to die of shame! Go back to your +cabin, clear out with your seducer, but don't come here again among our +wives and children!" + +Sister Anne could not understand how a person could be guilty for having +known love. She gazed at the peasants in surprise; she held out her +hands, clasped in entreaty: she tried to make them understand that she +had not come to seek their aid for herself. But they did not choose to +understand; they turned their backs on her and went into their houses; +some escorted her to the outskirts of the village, and did not leave her +until they had ordered her never to return. + +The poor child was suffocated by the sobs that convulsed her whole body. +To be treated so for having loved Frédéric! That thought sustained her +courage; it was for him that she was subjected to such humiliation; she +would endure everything rather than cease to love him. She returned to +her cabin, weeping bitterly. It was dark. Absolute solitude reigned in +her poor home, thenceforth the abode of silence. She was utterly alone +on earth. Proof against idle terrors, against the childish fear which +even the greatest geniuses sometimes feel at sight of death, Sister Anne +went to the bed on which Marguerite lay, and, falling on her knees +beside it, held out her arms to her protectress, as if to say: + +"You would not have spurned me, mother, if I had come before you even +guiltier than I am! You would have had pity on me. Your great age, your +enfeebled sight, did not permit you to notice my condition; but you +would have forgiven me; and they turned me away! Is it by heaping +obloquy on the unfortunate that the path of repentance should be pointed +out to them?" + +She passed the whole night by Marguerite's bed. She prayed with all her +heart for her who had been a mother to her; she implored her to protect +her still, and during that mournful night Frédéric's image did not +disturb her pious occupation. + +The next morning, at daybreak, Sister Anne went to the woods to wait for +the old shepherd who supplied her with bread in exchange for milk. He +soon appeared. He was a man of some sixty years, still strong and well, +who had passed most of his life in the forest, and, like Sister Anne, +knew almost nothing of what happened in the village, which is the whole +world to a woodsman. The girl took him by the hand and seemed to urge +him to go with her to the cabin. The old shepherd complied with her +entreaty, and she led him to Marguerite's bedside. He shook his head, +but did not seem moved: the habit of living the life of a savage +sometimes makes men indifferent to the suffering of others. But Sister +Anne appealed to him by signs which he could not fail to understand, and +the old fellow consented to perform the service she asked at his hands. + +She led him into the garden, to the fig-tree under which Marguerite +loved to sit, and pointed to the ground: that was where she wished that +her adopted mother should rest. The old shepherd soon dug the grave, +then carried the old woman's remains thither and covered them with +earth. Sister Anne planted a cross by the spot. It was the only monument +she could erect to her benefactress's memory; but she would come often +to water it with her tears. How many magnificent mausoleums there are +whereon no tear was ever shed! + +The shepherd went his way, and Sister Anne was once more alone--and +forever! At that moment, she felt more keenly than ever the loss she had +sustained. Marguerite talked little; for some time past, she had dozed +constantly; but she was always there, and the poor child felt that she +was not altogether alone in the world. There was one person who could +comfort her; but he did not come, and each succeeding day helped to +destroy the little hope that still sustained her. She would not have had +the courage to endure her torments, but for the feeling that heaven +would soon give her someone to lighten them. She was now fully aware of +the existence of the being in whom she was to live again. She had +already suffered much for its sake: people shunned and despised her; she +could no longer seek help or shelter in the village; but the mere sight +of that little creature would bring forgetfulness of all her agony; is +it not just that we should find in the cause of our sorrows their +compensation? + +As the days passed, Sister Anne's profound grief for the loss of +Marguerite changed into a tender, grateful memory; but time, which +soothes the regrets of friendship, does not allay the sufferings of a +lover. The memory of Frédéric was more constantly in her mind than +ever, for there was nothing to divert her thoughts from it. She saw no +one; and if the movements within her reminded her that she was soon to +be a mother, that fact made her desire more ardently the presence of her +child's father. + +While Frédéric was with Sister Anne, he had talked to her sometimes of +the outside world, of his father, and very often of Paris, his +birthplace. During the day, while they sat together by the brook, it +amused him to draw a picture of the great city for the wondering girl, +to describe the pleasures, the plays, the splendid avenues, which make +it a place of enchantment. She did not always comprehend what he said, +but she listened with wide-open eyes, manifesting her amazement by +artless gestures, by curious tokens of surprise; and it amused Frédéric, +who was often obliged to tell her stories to satisfy her, for one cannot +be always making love. Some people maintain that it is a great pity; +they forget that those things which one can do all the time end by +losing their value. + +What Frédéric had told Sister Anne was engraved in her memory. Each day +she thought about it more and more, and said to herself: + +"He is probably in that great city, Paris, that he used to tell me so +much about, where he was born. Perhaps his father won't let him come +back to me. But if I could go there and find him, if I could once throw +myself into his arms, I'm very sure he would be glad to see me. Then he +would keep me with him, I would never leave him again, and I should be, +oh! so happy! But how can I find my way to Paris?" + +Every day, the longing to set out in search of her lover became stronger +in that loving heart, which could not persuade itself that Frédéric had +forgotten her, but believed that the reason he did not return was that +someone was keeping him away from her. Marguerite being dead, there was +nothing to detain Sister Anne in the woods. In her condition, and bereft +as she was of so essential an organ, she ought doubtless to have felt +that her cabin was preferable to the dangers, the suffering, and the +fatigue that would be her portion in the journey she contemplated; but a +woman who loves truly sees neither danger nor suffering; she dares +everything, sustained by the hope of seeing once more the object of her +affection. Sister Anne, unacquainted with the world, unable to speak, +and bearing within her the fruit of her love, determined to leave her +home to go in search of her lover; to face every danger, to endure +poverty and privations of every sort; and even though she should have to +employ years in her search, it seemed to her that every step would bring +her nearer to her lover. + +Having formed her decision, she devoted all her thought to its +execution; but she did not wish to leave her cabin and Marguerite's +grave to be utterly neglected. Again it was the old shepherd to whom she +addressed herself: she led him into the house one morning, and pointed +to a small bundle containing her clothing, which she slung over her +shoulders, to indicate that she was going away; then she motioned to him +to sit down, as if to say: + +"This cabin is yours, stay here; I ask you only to take care of the +fig-tree that shades my mother's tomb, and these poor creatures who have +been my only companions so long." + +The old man readily understood her; but, although the hovel was a palace +in his eyes, and Sister Anne's cession of it to him made him richer than +he had ever been, he tried to induce the girl to abandon a plan which +seemed to him insane. + +"Where do you propose to go, my child?" he asked; "can you think of +leaving home in the condition you are in? Within two months you will be +a mother, and you propose to go on a journey; and you a poor, dumb girl! +Who will take you in, who will help you, how will you ask the way? Come, +my girl, you are going to do a very foolish thing. Wait a little while, +at least." + +But Sister Anne had made up her mind, and nothing could move her; she +shook her head as she looked at the old shepherd; then raised her eyes +to heaven, as if to say: + +"God will take pity on me and guide my steps." + +He tried once more to keep her. + +"What about money?" he said; "you need money in the world, my girl; I +know that, although I haven't lived much in the world. I haven't got any +myself, and I can't give you anything for your house and what there is +in it, although it's well worth something." + +Sister Anne smiled, then took from her bosom a small canvas bag, and +showed the old man four gold pieces: it was Marguerite's little hoard. +Some time before she died, the good woman had told her to look in the +corner of the cabin, under her bed; there she had found the little bag +securely tied, and Marguerite had said to her: + +"Take it, my child; it's for you; it's the fruit of my savings in sixty +years of toil. I have always meant it for you; perhaps it will help you +to buy some more goats." + +At sight of the four gold pieces, the old shepherd ceased his efforts to +detain her, for he believed that with that amount of money she could go +round the world. + +"Go, my child," he said; "I will keep your cabin; remember that it still +belongs to you, if ever you want to come back to it." + +Sister Anne smiled sadly; then, with a last glance at her home, she went +forth, with her light bundle in one hand, and in the other a stick on +which she leaned as she walked. She saluted Marguerite's grave in the +garden; her goats ran after her, as if they expected her to drive them +to the hill as usual. She caressed them, weeping, for they had come to +be her only friends, and something told her that she would never see +them again. + +What memories stirred her heart as she walked through the woods! There +was the place where they had sat so often! yonder the brook, by which +she first saw him, and where he told her that he loved her! Those +familiar spots seemed alive with his presence, and she found it hard to +make up her mind to leave them. But she said to herself, to sustain her +courage: + +"I am going to join him; and perhaps we shall return together." + +She climbed the hill, and knelt at the foot of the tree where Clotilde +died. She prayed to her mother to watch over her from on high, and to +guide her in her journey. Then she descended the hill, in the direction +of the town; she followed the road that he had taken, and wished that +she could discover his footprints. + + + + +XXIII + +SISTER ANNE'S JOURNEY.--THE FOREST + + +The dumb girl had begun her journey at daybreak; it was a cold but fine +morning; a heavy frost had dried up the roads, frozen the streams, and +checked the torrents. The fields were deserted; the peasants who were +abroad wasted no time, but hastened to return to their cabins and sit +down in front of the fireplace, where the stumps they had brought from +the forest snapped and crackled. A bright fire enlivens the long winter +evening, and the poor beggar, as he passes through a village, stops and +gazes enviously at the flame that shines through a cottage window, +overjoyed when he finds an opportunity to warm himself on the public +square, before a bundle or two of straw which other poor wretches have +set on fire. + +It was only four hours since Sister Anne had set out, and her eyes were +already struck by the novelty of what she saw. Having never seen +anything besides her own cabin, her woods, and the village of Vizille, +she paused in amazement before a forge, or a mill, or a country house, +which seemed to her a very castle. Everything was new to her; but how +was she to find her way in this world, which seemed to her so immense, +how could she find that city which she could not name, and of which she +did not even know the direction? Sometimes these thoughts made her heart +sink; she would stop and look sadly about; then she would think of +Frédéric, and resume her journey. + +Toward midday, she arrived at a small hamlet, and knocked at the door of +a peasant's cottage; it was opened by a young woman, who was nursing one +child, while four others played about her, and an old woman kindled the +fire with an armful of dry branches she had just brought from the woods. + +"What do you want, my good woman?" asked the young mother. Sister Anne +gazed at the picture before her, and could not take her eyes from the +child at its mother's breast. A gleam of joy lighted up her face; one +could see that she was thinking at that moment: + +"I will nurse my child, too; I will carry him at my bosom and receive +his caresses." + +"Why don't you say what you want?" said the old woman, without taking +her eyes from the fire. + +"Oh! see how pale she is, mother!" said the younger woman; "and how she +seems to be suffering! To think of such a young thing, and so near her +time, travelling about when it's as cold as this!--You are going to join +your husband, I suppose?" + +Sister Anne sighed; then, seeing that they were waiting for her answer, +she explained by signs that she could not speak. + +"Mon Dieu! mother, she's dumb! Poor woman!" + +"Dumb!" cried the old mother. "What, my dear, can't you talk? How I pity +you, poor child! Are you deaf too?" + +Sister Anne's pantomime indicated that she could hear them perfectly. + +"Well, that's lucky, on my word!" exclaimed the old woman, walking +toward the traveller; while all the children stared curiously at her, +thinking that a mute was not like other people. + +"Was it some accident that made you dumb, my girl? have you been so +long? Was it an illness? Can't it be cured?" + +"Let us first give the poor creature what she needs, mother," said the +young woman; "let her rest and eat something; then you can question +her." + +They bustled about, and seated Sister Anne in front of the fire; one +child took her bundle, another her stick, and the old mother brought her +food, for the daughter could not leave the child she was nursing. Sister +Anne, touched by their kindness to her, manifested her gratitude by such +pathetic gestures, that the occupants of the little cottage were deeply +moved. + +"So it isn't the same everywhere as it is at my village," thought the +young wayfarer; "here, instead of turning me away and looking down on +me, they are kind to me, and treat me like their own child. The world +isn't so cruel, after all." + +This welcome revived her courage; but she could not answer all the old +woman's questions. The peasants believed, according to her signs, that +she was going to join her husband. + +"He's in the city, I suppose?" queried the old woman. + +Sister Anne nodded her head; and as Grenoble was the nearest city, they +concluded that that was her destination. + +After remaining several hours beneath that hospitable roof, she +determined to resume her journey; but first she took one of the gold +pieces from her little bag and offered it to the young woman. + +"Keep it, my dear," said she; "we don't want anything for what we've +done. You're so much to be pitied for not being able to talk, that you +deserve to be taken in and put up everywhere for nothing; but, +unluckily, everybody don't think so; there's some folks with hard, +unfeeling hearts. You're going to the city, and you'll need all your +money; they won't refuse it there." + +Sister Anne expressed her gratitude as best she could. She kissed the +young mother and her little nursling affectionately, then left the +cottage, after they had pointed out the road to Grenoble, where they +supposed that she was going. + +The young woman did not travel rapidly; her pregnancy, her lack of +practice in walking, and the bundle of clothing she carried, compelled +her to stop frequently. She would sit down on a felled tree, a stone, or +the bank of a ditch, and wait until her strength had returned and she +could go on. + +Sometimes other travellers passed her while she was resting. Those in +carriages did not look at her; several men on horseback cast a glance at +her; but the pedestrians stopped and said a few words to her. Receiving +no reply, they went their way, some thinking that she was half-witted, +others calling her impertinent because she did not deign to speak to +them. Sister Anne gazed at them with an air of surprise, smiled at a +peasant who proposed to take her on his horse, and lowered her eyes when +another lost his temper because she did not answer him; the most curious +ended by doing as the others did, and left her. + +Toward nightfall, Sister Anne, having followed the directions given her, +reached Grenoble. The sight of a large city was a source of fresh +surprise, which increased with every step she took in the streets, where +the people were dressed so much more handsomely than in her village. +Everything surprised and bewildered her, and she trembled as she +walked. The tall houses, the shops, the throng of people moving in every +direction, the continual uproar, the strange way in which the passers-by +gazed at her--everything tended to increase her confusion. Poor girl! +how would it be if you were in Paris? + +But it grew dark, and she must seek shelter for the night. She dared not +enter any of the houses; they all seemed too fine; she was afraid that +she would not be admitted. For a long while, she wandered at random +through those unfamiliar streets; but she was tired out at last, and +determined to knock somewhere. The poor child did not know what an inn +was; she thought that she could obtain a place to sleep anywhere by +paying for it. + +She knocked at the door of a house of modest appearance. The door +opened, and she entered trembling. + +"What do you want?" demanded an old tailor, who acted as concierge. + +The girl looked sadly at him, and made signs to indicate that she could +not speak; but he paid no attention to them, and repeated his question. +Receiving no reply, he sprang to his feet in a rage, ran to Sister Anne, +took her by the arm, and put her out of the door, saying: + +"Oho! so you won't tell where you're going, won't you? Folks don't get +in here that way, my girl." + +This reception was not encouraging; the poor girl was once more in the +street; her eyes filled with tears, but she summoned all her courage and +knocked at another door. There, they called her a beggar, and refused to +admit her. She could stand it no longer; her sobs choked her; she sat +down on a stone bench beside a door and wept bitterly. In a moment the +door opened, and an old couple came out, wrapped in furs and +comforters, followed by a servant carrying a lantern. As they passed, +they ordered Sister Anne to leave the bench, which belonged to their +house, calling her an idler and a beggar, and threatening to have her +put in prison if she did not move on. Sister Anne rose, trembling in +every limb, and dragged her sorrow and weariness elsewhere; and the old +couple went their way, chuckling over what they had done, and promising +to hold forth concerning the audacity of the lower classes at the party +where they were to pass the evening. + +The dumb girl, utterly worn out, could hardly stand erect, and did not +know which way to turn. The treatment she had met with gave her a very +depressing idea of life in cities. But she must find a shelter for the +night. She spied a house more brightly lighted than the others; the +front door was open, and many persons were going in and out. She took +one of her gold pieces in her hand, afraid to enter unless she exhibited +it. This time she had made a more fortunate selection: the house in +question was an inn, and the sight of the gold piece procured her a +cordial reception. + +When the landlady found that the young traveller could not answer her +questions, she felt called upon to talk for two, and, while she led the +way to a small bedroom, extolled the advantages of her house and the way +in which it was kept, asked her where she came from and where she was +going, then interrupted herself by exclaiming: + +"Mon Dieu! what a fool I am! I ask that just as if you could answer." + +A moment later, she resumed her chatter, saying: + +"It's very hard! I don't understand your signs, I don't understand 'em +at all. Never mind, my child; you shall be served on the dot. If my +nephew was only here! he knows mathematics, and he'd soon explain your +signs. But he's gone away, poor boy! he's a clerk in the telegraph +office at Lyon, now." + +At last she left Sister Anne, who, having eaten sparingly, was able to +enjoy the rest she needed so sorely. Sleep, poor girl, and may happy +dreams bring momentary oblivion of your sufferings! + +As she had heard the hostess say more than once: "You are in the best +hotel in Grenoble," she knew the name of the city, and remembered that +Frédéric had mentioned that name. That recollection led her to resolve +not to leave that place until she had sought him there; and the next +morning, after she had succeeded in making her hostess understand that +she proposed to pass that day also at Grenoble, she left the inn and set +out to search the city, which seemed to her enormously large. + +As she walked along, she looked at every window in every house. If +Frédéric were there, she thought that he would see her pass, and would +either call to her or run after her. Sometimes she stopped, thinking +that she recognized his figure; but she soon discovered her error. She +passed the whole day thus, and did not return to the inn until it was so +dark that she could see nothing. + +"Have you been looking about our city?" inquired the landlady; "it's a +very pretty place, I tell you, a very pretty place, our city of +Grenoble. But it isn't as big as Lyon, and even Lyon don't come near +Paris." + +At the word _Paris_, the young traveller made a joyful movement, and, +grasping the hostess's arm, signified that that was where she wanted to +go. But she did not make her meaning clear. + +"You are going to Lyon, I'll wager," said the hostess; "that isn't so +far; fifteen leagues, that's all. To be sure, in your condition you +can't walk very fast; but in three or four days at most, you ought to do +it." + +Sister Anne went sadly to her room. How could she find the road to +Paris, if she could not make people understand that that was where she +wanted to go? That thought disheartened her; but she had implored her +mother to guide her on her journey; she prayed to her again, and hope +was born anew in her heart; without hope, what would be left for the +unhappy? + +The next day, the girl prepared to leave the inn; the landlady presented +a bill to her, of which she could make nothing; but she tendered a gold +piece and received very little change. In cities, one has to pay for +every reverence, every attention. Sister Anne had been treated with +great courtesy, so that her stay at the inn cost her rather dear. + +They pointed out the road to Lyon, and she set forth once more, with her +little bundle and her stick. But how easy it is to lose one's way in the +hilly, wooded paths between Grenoble and Lyon! She abandoned herself to +Providence for guidance. She walked most of the day, and at night, +thoroughly exhausted, went to a farmhouse, where they consented to let +her sleep in a barn. But, provided that she could pass the night where +she was sheltered from the cold, she slept as well on straw as on +feathers; fatigue enabled her at last to sleep several hours. + +Her accommodation at the farm helped to exhaust her little store, and +the young traveller began to realize that she must be sparing of it, for +it was almost the only talisman by means of which she could obtain +shelter. Hospitable folk are rare. The most humane think that they are +doing much for the poor wayfarer when they give him a trifling sum of +money and a crust of bread; but they will not receive him under their +roof. Far distant are the days when men deemed it an honor to give +shelter to a stranger, without inquiring as to his rank and his means; +when they shared their fire and their repast and their bed with him. +Other times, other manners! We have become very proud, we are no longer +inclined to share anything. By way of compensation, we have excellent +friends, who come to our house and eat our bread, drink our wine, and +sometimes make love to our wives, and who, when they leave, go elsewhere +and say countless cruel things about us; but they do it from excess of +affection, and because they are afraid that we may have other friends +than themselves. + +Toward noon of the second day after she left Grenoble, Sister Anne, +absorbed by her recollections, did not notice that she had strayed from +the road that had been pointed out to her. Not until she began to feel +the need of rest did she look about for the village, which, according to +the directions she had received in the morning, could not be far away. + +The place where she was at that moment was wild and deserted; there was +no house in sight. She climbed a hill, and could see nothing in front of +her but an extensive forest of firs. On her left, a mountain stream, +with ice floating on the surface, plunged into a deep and winding +ravine; on her right was a bare mountain side, with steep cliffs, but no +human habitation. + +She began to fear that she had lost her way, and hesitated for some time +as to the best course for her to pursue. The roads to the right and left +had a most unpromising look; she was reluctant to retrace her steps; so +she decided to take the road leading to the forest. After walking about +half an hour, she found herself among the stately firs, which time had +not bent, and whose branches, although partly despoiled of their +foliage, seemed to rise no less proudly toward the clouds and to defy +wind and frost. + +An excellent road led directly into the forest, and Sister Anne did not +hesitate to take it. She could see the marks of wheels and of horses' +feet, and she hoped that it would lead her to the village or to some +nearby city. She surmounted her fatigue, in order that she might reach a +place of shelter before dark. As she walked on, she did not meet a human +being, and there was a sombreness and gloom about that road, hemmed in +by the forest on both sides, that depressed her beyond words. Her eyes, +straining to discover the end of the interminable road, saw naught save +the dark firs, and there was no indication that she was approaching the +village. Her heart sank; night was beginning to envelop the earth in its +dark folds; she could no longer distinguish anything in the paths that +led to right and left; and soon Sister Anne, her strength giving way +before her courage, felt that it was impossible for her to go farther. +So she was forced to make up her mind to pass the night in the forest. +It was not fear that made the poor child's heart beat fast; she did not +know what robbers were, for there had never been any in her woods. But +the thought of passing a whole night in the forest, without shelter, in +such cold weather, and in her condition! However, it must be done. She +seated herself at the foot of a large tree. She was always careful, when +she passed through a town or a village, to supply herself with +provisions; so she ate some bread and dried nuts; then, wrapping +herself as well as she could in her clothes, and placing her bundle +under her head, she waited for sleep to come. Thanks to the fatigue of +that long day's journey, she had not long to wait. + +It was midnight when the dumb girl opened her eyes, and the moon, +shining directly over the road on the edge of which she had fallen +asleep, lighted the strange picture which awaited her at her awakening. + +Four men stood about her, all dressed like poor woodcutters, in jackets +and loose trousers held in place by broad belts; they wore broad-brimmed +hats, some with the brims turned down, while the others, being turned up +in front, revealed faces that bore no trace of gentleness or humanity. +Their long, uncombed hair and beards intensified the sinister expression +of their features; each of them carried a gun, on which he leaned; and +each had a hunting-knife and a pair of pistols in his belt. + +Two of these men were stooping over Sister Anne; another held a dark +lantern near her face; while the fourth, who also had his eyes upon her, +seemed to be listening, to make sure that everything was quiet on the +road. + +The sight of those four faces fixed upon hers caused Sister Anne an +involuntary shock; and, although she did not appreciate the danger that +threatened her, she was conscious of a feeling of terror which she could +not understand, and closed her eyes to avoid those searching glances. + +"What in the devil have we got here?" said one of the two who were +leaning over her; "I'm very much afraid that it don't amount to much, +and I doubt if it's worth while to stop." + +"Eh? why not?" said the man with the lantern; "it's better'n nothing, +anyway. Look, Pierre, she's got a bundle under her head." + +"A lot of worthless rags; don't you see that she's a woman as works in +the fields?" + +"I say! is she dead or asleep?" said a third. "Come, Leroux, just push +her a bit! Are we going to spend the night staring at this drudge?" + +"Death of my life! I don't know as we've got anything better to do. +All's quiet on the road--eh, Jacques?" + +Jacques was the man who stood a few steps away, apparently listening. +When his comrades addressed him, he approached the group about the girl, +saying: + +"Damnation! another bad night!" + +"Not so bad as it might be!" rejoined Leroux, still gazing at Sister +Anne; "morbleu! that's a pretty woman!" + +It was at that moment that Sister Anne opened her eyes, resolved to +appeal to the compassion of the men who surrounded her, and whose +language she did not comprehend, having no suspicion of their +profession. + +"I say, look!" cried Leroux; "she's waking up. She's got a fine pair of +eyes, on my word! I'm curious to hear what she'll say." + +Sister Anne cast a glance of entreaty upon them, one after another, +clasping her hands as if to implore their pity. + +"Oh! don't you be afraid," said Pierre; "we ain't going to hurt you. +Where did you come from? where you going? what put it into your head to +sleep in our forest?" + +The dumb girl, taking the robbers for woodcutters, tried to make them +understand that she had lost her way. + +"What's this! a woman, and she won't speak!" cried Jacques; "what does +this mean? Is it fear that makes her dumb? Come, speak--damnation!" + +Sister Anne rose, and indicated by signs that she could not speak. + +"What devilish kind of a woman is this?" cried Pierre; while Leroux, +holding his lantern still nearer to her, exclaimed, with a roar of +laughter: + +"My eyes, comrades! Dumb or not, the hen has found her rooster, and the +egg won't be long coming!" + +This jest was welcomed with a savage laugh by the other three robbers; +and all four kept their eyes fixed on the poor girl, who, not divining +the cause of their merriment, but unable to endure their glances, +timidly lowered her eyes and stood trembling in the midst of them. + +"Come on, let's leave the woman," said Pierre; "she's a poor deaf mute; +we mustn't take her on our shoulders." + +"Deaf?" rejoined Leroux, whose eyes gleamed with a terrifying +expression; "why, such a woman as that's a downright treasure. She's so +pretty! she takes my eye, and I'll make her my moll as soon as she gets +rid of her load." + +"Nonsense, Leroux! you're joking." + +"No! ten thousand thunders! a deaf mute--think how useful she'll be to +us in our business." + +Sister Anne, trembling like a leaf, did not fully understand the +conversation of the miscreants; but, observing their indecision, and +fearing that they would refuse to give her the shelter of which she felt +more in need than ever, for the cold had benumbed all her limbs, she +took her little store from her bosom. She knew that the sight of money +smooths all obstacles; so she took a coin from her little bag, and +offered it with an air of entreaty to one of the ruffians. + +"Oho! she's got money, and she offers it to us; that's good! Parbleu! +give it here, give it here, girl!" + +As he spoke, Pierre snatched the bag from Sister Anne, who was stupefied +at being thus forcibly despoiled of her treasure; while the robbers +greedily counted its contents. + +"Three gold pieces, as I'm alive!" cried Jacques; and the brigands' +faces gleamed with savage joy. "That's more'n we've made in five days!" + +"Didn't I tell you this wasn't a bad find?" rejoined Leroux. "Come, +comrades, let's take this girl to our hole, and have a good time." + +With that, the fellow seized Sister Anne's arm and dragged her into the +forest; Jacques took charge of the bundle, Pierre followed him, and +Franck, the fourth man, taking the lantern from Leroux's hand, went +ahead to light his companions. + +The dumb girl walked unresistingly in the midst of the robbers, still +not realizing the horror of her position; she thought they were taking +her to their home, to their wives and children. But their brutal +features, their abrupt and insolent manners, the weapons they carried, +and the strangeness of their language, inspired her with a terror she +could not control. She glanced timidly at them again and again, hoping +to find, for her comfort, a look of sympathy or pity on their faces; but +whenever she raised her eyes, they met Leroux's fastened upon her and +blazing with brutal passion. That ruffian's features intensified the +fear caused by his manners: his curly hair corresponded in color with +his name, which his companions had given him on that account; his pale, +gray eyes rolled this way and that with amazing rapidity; his mouth, +about which a ferocious smile always lurked, was surmounted by heavy +moustaches of the color of his hair; and a broad scar, extending from +the top of the nose to the bottom of the left ear, put the finishing +touch to his sinister countenance. He had one arm about the girl's +body, supporting her as they walked rapidly along the forest paths, +while the other bandits, by their actions and their speech, momentarily +added to Sister Anne's alarm. + +The robbers lived in a wretched hovel in the heart of the forest; by +day, they passed for poor woodcutters, being careful to keep their +weapons out of sight in a cellar under their den. But at night they +armed themselves to the teeth and betook themselves to the highroad, +where, when they considered that they were sufficiently numerous, they +attacked belated travellers. + +Sister Anne was surprised that they had to go so far to reach their +home, and even more surprised by the almost impassable paths they chose. +At last, after walking more than an hour, they led her down into a +ravine, amid dense underbrush. Soon she made out a flickering light in +the window of a hut, and a woman opened the door after the robbers had +whistled several times. + +The appearance of one of her own sex cheered Sister Anne for a moment; +but when she looked closely at the woman who appeared in the doorway, +her short-lived hope vanished. In truth, the aspect of the robbers' +companion was not calculated to restore tranquillity to the unhappy +girl's mind: she was a tall woman, shockingly thin, and her strongly +marked features wore an expression of calm, cold cruelty which pointed +to absolute lack of sensibility; her face was of a livid pallor; a red +silk handkerchief covered her head, and a handful of rags barely +concealed her emaciated body. + +"Here we are, Christine," cried the brigands, as they approached. "We've +got a prize; we've brought you a companion you can't quarrel with." + +At that, Christine stepped out of the house, and, snatching the lantern +from Franck's hand, held it close to Sister Anne's face. After examining +her closely for several minutes, she said, in a harsh voice: + +"What's all this?" + +"A woman, can't you see? And a rare woman, too! a deaf mute!" + +"A deaf mute! A fine capture, I swear! What do you expect to do with +her?" + +"That's none of your business," said Leroux, in a voice that echoed +through the forest; "I took this woman for myself; I like her, she suits +me just as she is. Don't you dare to look crooked at her, or I'll hang +you up to the tallest fir in the forest!" + +Christine did not seem alarmed by the threat; she continued to stare at +the girl, and, when she noticed her condition, a sarcastic smile lighted +up her face, and she muttered between her teeth: + +"You'll be sure of having a brat, anyway." + +A blow which sent her reeling against the wall of the cabin was Leroux's +only reply to this remark of the repellent Christine; she rushed at him +with a threatening air, but Pierre stepped between them. + +"Come, come, comrades," he said, "that's enough of such fooling; we +mustn't let the new-comer raise a row here. Go in, Christine, and see +about giving us some supper, quick; we're as hungry as wolves!" + +During this altercation between the robbers and their housekeeper, the +unfortunate dumb girl felt a sensation of fear, of absolute terror, such +as she had never known before. The aspect of the woman, the language of +the men, whose brutal character she began to divine, the appearance of +that horrible lair--everything combined to give her some conception of +the perils that encompassed her. But what could she do? what would +become of her? She would have been only too glad, at that moment, to be +far away from that spot, even though she had to endure the severe cold, +unsheltered, in the forest. But there was no means of escape, and they +did not return her money; they had taken her treasure and her clothes; +was it for a moment only? she dared not hope so, and she discovered some +new cause of alarm every minute. She shuddered from head to foot, her +teeth chattered, her knees gave way under her. + +"See!" said Leroux, holding her up; "that fury has frightened my pretty +bird.--Come, don't be afraid, little one, and let's go in and get warm." + +The robbers entered the hovel, which was divided into two rooms: the +outer one was that in which the occupants of that horrible den passed +most of their time; there they ate, and slept on bundles of straw in one +corner. There was a fireplace, where a huge fire was blazing, which +warmed the room, the larger and better of the two. The other, which had +no fireplace, and but a single window looking into the forest, was +Christine's bedroom; they kept their provisions and firewood there. + +When she entered that dirty, smoke-begrimed room, and saw the heap of +straw in a corner, the weapons standing against the wall, and the great +fire, at which several huge joints of meat were cooking for the robbers' +supper, Sister Anne's strength gave way, and Leroux carried her to the +fire, saying: + +"Sit down there and warm yourself; the supper'll bring back your +strength." + +"What a damned fool you are, to talk to her as if she could hear you!" + +"That's so, but I keep forgetting it." + +"How do you know she's deaf, anyway?" said Franck; "perhaps she's making +believe. She might be just dumb." + +"Then someone must have cut her tongue out," said Leroux; "but anyone +can see that she's got one like anybody else; so, as she can't speak, it +must be because she's deaf. You fellows don't understand about that; but +I've travelled in my time, I know more'n you do, and I know that deaf +mutes are mute because they can't hear. All you've got to do is look at +the woman; anybody can see that she don't hear a word we're saying." + +In truth, Sister Anne, since she had entered the cabin, being completely +prostrated by fatigue, pain, and fear, had seemed to be insensible to +everything that was taking place. However, she heard every word that the +brigands said; but, on learning that they believed her to be deaf, a +secret presentiment warned her not to correct their error. If they felt +sure that she could not hear them, they would not hesitate to discuss +their plans before her; thus she would learn what she must fear or hope; +and perhaps they might unwittingly suggest a means of escape. That ray +of hope sustained the poor girl's courage, and she strove to conceal the +emotion caused by the conversation of the cutthroats. + +They had laid aside their arms, and while waiting for supper discoursed +of their exploits. The dumb girl learned with dismay that she was among +villains capable of any crime. But in the very excess of her despair she +found a source of courage; and realizing at last the full extent of the +perils which encompassed her, she felt that her only hope of escaping +them was by craft and adroitness. If she alone were threatened with +death, she would not fear it, but she wished to save the life of the +being she carried within her. Mother-love has inspired many acts of +heroism; it was that sentiment which sustained Sister Anne and gave her +strength to endure her horrible situation. + +Christine placed a table in the middle of the room, and covered it with +food, bottles, and glasses; the robbers seated themselves about the +table, and fell to with a sort of brutal satisfaction. Sister Anne +remained in front of the fire. Leroux placed bread, wine, and roast meat +before her; she thanked him with an inclination of the head, and forced +herself to eat a little, in order to keep up her strength and to +dissemble her terror. + +"You see that woman?" said Leroux to his companions; "well, I'll bet +she's as meek as a lamb; I'll do whatever I choose with her." + +"Don't trust to looks," said Christine, as she joined the robbers at the +table; "a woman can take a man in with those airs and graces; but faces +are deceitful." + +"Yours isn't, for you're the picture of Lucifer's sister!" + +This jest made them all laugh, they filled and emptied their glasses +with startling rapidity; the more they drank, the more they talked. The +hideous Christine kept pace with them, and only Leroux, whose thoughts +were fixed on Sister Anne, retained some show of reason. + +"Where could this woman have come from?" queried one of the thieves; +"she don't look as if she worked in the fields." + +"Bah! it's some girl that's gone wrong; her lover's left her, and she's +travelling about looking for him. That's the way with all the girls that +listen to lovers!" + +Sister Anne wiped away the tears that trembled on her eyelids, for her +heart told her that the man was right. + +"_Morgué!_" said Christine; "if I had a daughter, and she was unlucky +enough to go wrong, I'd strangle her with my own hands." + +"Hear that!" said Jacques; "it's a blasted shame that you haven't got +some children; they'd be a handsome lot!" + +"I don't care who the woman is," said Leroux; "she shan't leave this +house.--And you, Christine, treat her well, or remember what I promised +you!" + +"I snap my fingers at your hussy. Look, you'd do much better to comfort +her; I believe she's squalling now; go and give her a kiss." + +"What about us?" said the other robbers, heated by the fumes of the +wine; "we'll comfort her, too. Let's go and kiss the pretty mute; we +must cheer her up a bit." + +With that, Leroux's three comrades rose to go to Sister Anne; but he +planted himself in front of them, and, taking a pistol in each hand, +shouted to them in stentorian tones: + +"Not another step, corbleu! or I'll kill you! That woman's mine; I found +her on the road, when you were going by like fools without seeing her; I +insisted on bringing her here; I swore I'd make her my wife; and, damn +your eyes! the first man who touches her dies by my hand!" + +This harangue checked the ardor of his fellows; they knew their +companion, they knew that the act would follow close on the heels of the +threat; so they contented themselves with laughing at Leroux's jealousy, +while Sister Anne, frozen with terror by the scene, retreated into a +corner of the room and fell on her knees before her captors. + +Leroux went to her and tried to soothe her; but, fearing some new +enterprise on the part of his companions, he led her into the other +room, and, pointing to a wretched pallet, motioned to her to lie down +upon it; then he went out, locking the door on her. + +Sister Anne was alone in the little room, where there was no light +except that which shone through the interstices of the partition, and +which enabled her to make out her surroundings. Having made a pretence +of lying down on the pallet, she soon rose and listened intently to what +the robbers said. They continued to drink, and began to sing. If only +she could escape while they were thus engaged! She felt along the wall +until she came to a window; it must open into the forest, and the room +was level with the ground, so that it would be easy to escape that way. +But a moment later her hand came in contact with stout bars, which +prevented her passing through. Poor girl! the pangs of disappointment +were more cruel than all the sufferings she had endured hitherto. When +she believed that she was on the point of recovering her liberty, to +lose that last hope! to be unable to conceive any possible means of +escaping from that horrible den! It was like dying twice over. She fell, +utterly disheartened, on the bed, and tried to stifle with her hands the +groans that escaped from her breast. + + + + +XXIV + +THE STRANGER + + +Thus the night passed. The robbers fell asleep in front of the fire; +and, luckily for Sister Anne, their vile housekeeper did the same, and +did not come to share the bed with the poor girl, who lay there all +night, listening intently, quivering at the slightest sound in the next +room, and praying to heaven to send her a rescuer. + +At daybreak, the ruffians woke; they hastily concealed their weapons, +then went forth into the forest to work as woodcutters. Before he left, +Leroux went to Sister Anne, smiled at her, patted her under the chin, +and muttered under his breath: + +"To-night, my beauty, I'll say a couple of words to you." + +The unhappy girl could not evade those disgusting caresses. Not without +an effort did she restrain her indignation. But he went away at last, on +the heels of his companions, bidding Christine to keep a sharp lookout +on her prisoner. + +When Sister Anne was alone with the robbers' female confederate, she was +fain to endure the ill humor of that fury, who, being jealous of her +presence there, tried to avenge herself by heaping all sorts of +indignities upon her, being well assured that she could not complain of +them. She laughed at her tears and gestures of entreaty, and the poor +child felt that she would die if she did not escape soon from that +horrible place. + +At night, the four men returned; they ate a little, then took their +weapons, Leroux alone excepted. + +"Well! don't you propose to go out on the trail with us?" his companions +asked him. + +"No, no, not yet; I'll join you later; but I'm glad of the chance to say +a word to my little mute." + +As he said this, a bestial smile gleamed in his eyes, which were +constantly fixed upon Sister Anne. + +"Oh, yes! I understand," said Pierre; "we'll let it pass to-day, but you +mustn't let love make you forget your duty." + +"But if a well-lined post chaise should happen along," said Jacques, "we +shan't be strong enough to attack." + +"Bah! it ain't likely that there'll be one to-night; anyway, I tell you +I'll join you soon." + +"All right! all right! we'll get along without him; and if some rich +prize does turn up, why, it will belong to us, and he won't get any of +it." + +"That's fair enough, mates." + +The three men left the cabin, with a mocking glance at the dumb girl, +who did not divine her impending peril, or the meaning of their smile. +But when she saw that Leroux did not accompany them, she shuddered +involuntarily and turned her eyes on Christine, as if she hoped for aid +from her. But she, after glancing at her and at Leroux with the same +mocking smile, went into the other room and slammed the door behind her. + +Sister Anne started to follow her, but when she saw that it was +impossible she fell back on the straw on which she had been sitting; she +trembled convulsively; she was alone with the brigand. + +Leroux seated himself in front of the fire and poked it; then lighted a +pipe and smoked for several minutes, interrupting his smoking only to +drink and to glance at Sister Anne. She trembled in every limb, in the +corner where she had seated herself in order to be as far as possible +from the robber, whose eyes, as he glanced at her, were inflamed with +lust. + +"Damned fine, ten thousand devils!" he cried, from time to time. "Fine +eyes, fine teeth. She'll be even better looking in a few months, but +damn the odds! And those clowns didn't see her! Oh! I won't give her up +to you, my mates! We don't capture such prizes often." + +These words added to the poor girl's alarm; it was increased tenfold +when Leroux, who had not remained behind solely to drink and smoke, +motioned to her to come to him. She pretended not to understand, and +lowered her eyes. Thereupon he rose and walked toward her. The girl +could hardly breathe. The brigand threw himself on the straw, beside +her; she tried to rise and go away from him, but he detained her by +force, passing his arm about her waist, and putting his repulsive face +close to hers. The poor girl put her hand before her eyes, so that she +could not see Leroux's. + +"Ha! ha! I really believe she's trembling!" he exclaimed, with a roar of +savage laughter. "I promise you, my dear, it don't become you to play +the prude; anyone can see you haven't always been one." + +With that, he put his face still nearer to hers, and tried to kiss her +on the lips; but she, summoning all her courage, pushed him away, and, +taking advantage of his surprise, sprang quickly to her feet and ran to +the other end of the room, behind the table on which the robbers ate. + +Leroux stared at her in amazement, but in a moment smiled again, +saying: + +"Oho! so you're balky, are you? Pretty good! Do you really think of +resisting me?" + +He rose and went toward her; with a well-directed kick, he sent the +table to the other end of the room; then, seizing the girl, who +struggled to no purpose, he took her in his arms and carried her back to +the heap of straw. Once more she summoned all her courage, all her +strength, to resist the brigand, who was determined to triumph over her, +and who, after laughing scornfully at her defence, finally became +furious at her obstinate resistance. This pitiful struggle lasted a long +time, but the unfortunate girl felt that her strength was failing her; +tears and sobs suffocated her, and she was on the point of becoming the +victim of the villain who strove to force her, when of a sudden there +was a succession of violent blows on the door of the cabin. + +"The devil take anybody who comes just now!" cried Leroux. "Those +fellows have done it on purpose; but I won't let 'em in." + +At that moment, he heard a strange voice, which said: + +"Open, for God's sake! save me! you shall be handsomely rewarded!" + +It was not the voice of any of Leroux's companions. The robber was +surprised beyond words. He listened in terror, while Sister Anne fell on +her knees and thanked heaven for rescuing her. + +Christine came hastily from the other room, and ran up to Leroux in +evident perturbation. + +"Somebody's knocking, do you hear? It's a strange voice." + +"Morbleu! yes, I hear it well enough. Go and look out of the window, and +try to see whether it's just one man." + +Christine obeyed, and returned in a moment. + +"Yes, he's alone," she said. + +"Then let's let him in," said Leroux; "but we must be prudent till our +friends return." + +Having replaced the table in the middle of the room, Leroux resumed his +pipe and his seat before the fire, while Christine opened the door of +the hovel to the person who had knocked. + +The stranger who appeared in the doorway was an elderly man, whose dress +denoted wealth, and his manners high rank; but he was hatless, his +clothes were in disorder, and the pallor of his cheeks betrayed +agitation and fear. He rushed into the cabin, and did not seem to +breathe freely until he saw the door closed and locked behind him. + +"Pardon, pardon, good people!" he said, addressing Leroux and Christine; +"I fear I have disturbed you and interrupted your rest; but by giving me +shelter you save my life." + +"How so, monsieur?" said Leroux, with an air of deep interest. + +"I have just been attacked, my friends, yonder, on the road that crosses +the forest I was in my carriage, with my servant, and the postilion was +urging the horses. Suddenly a party of robbers came out of the forest; +they rushed to the horses' heads and fired point-blank at the postilion; +the poor fellow fell dead! Having stopped the carriage, they ordered me +and my servant to alight, and one of them got in to search it; while he +was inside, I took advantage of a moment when the villains had not their +eyes on me, and plunged into the forest, selecting the darkest paths; I +succeeded in getting thus far, when I saw this light and knocked at your +door." + +"You did well, monsieur," said Leroux, with a significant glance at +Christine. "Sit you down before the fire, and warm yourself and get back +your breath." + +"Oh! you are too kind!" said the traveller, seating himself by the +hearth; "but my unfortunate servant--what have they done to him? will +he, too, be their victim?" + +"Oh! that ain't likely. They probably let him go, after robbing him. +They only killed the postilion to make him stop. I know their ways; +there's so much robbery in this infernal forest!" + +"I ought not to have taken that road; it was out of my way; but I wanted +to see this region." + +"Did the rascals rob you, monsieur?" + +"No, thank heaven! they were going to do it, no doubt, when I got away. +I have saved my wallet and my purse, at all events." + +"You're very lucky, on my word," said Leroux, with another glance at +Christine. "Well, monsieur, you must make the best of it, and try to +forget all about it. We'll do our best for you; for you mustn't think of +leaving here before daylight; that would be very imprudent." + +"I have no intention of doing so, if you will allow me to remain." + +"Allow you! why, with great pleasure! Come, Christine, be spry! prepare +our guest's supper." + +Throughout this conversation, Sister Anne had kept her eyes fixed on the +stranger, whose face, although rather stern, aroused her interest and +respect. She shuddered at the thought that he had escaped one danger +only to fall into another. Knowing now the unmitigated villainy of the +occupants of the hovel, she trembled for the traveller's life, and her +gaze, fastened insistently upon him, seemed to be striving to warn him +of the perils by which he was surrounded. + +But the stranger had not yet noticed the dumb girl, who was seated on +the floor in a corner of the room; hardly recovered from his agitation, +he drew nearer to the fire, and rarely removed his eyes from it. + +"It's lucky, on my word, that the robbers didn't follow you," said +Leroux, offering the traveller a glass of wine. + +"What saved me, I fancy, was this: at the moment I escaped, I heard a +great clatter of hoofs----" + +"Oho! you heard the sound of horses?" queried Leroux, uneasily. + +"Yes; at least, I thought so. But I was so excited! It may have been +other brigands, or the constables in pursuit of them." + +"Yes, that's so; it might have been." + +"I served in the army once, but I confess that I don't care for an +encounter with robbers; against such hounds, courage is often of no +avail. Besides, I had no weapons about me." + +"Ah! you have no weapons?" + +"No; my pistols were in the carriage, but they didn't give me time to +take them." + +Leroux seemed to reflect. Since the stranger had said that he had heard +horses on the road, he was less tranquil in his mind. + +"You are a woodcutter, I presume?" said the traveller. + +"Yes, monsieur; I'm a woodcutter; and this is my wife," said Leroux, +pointing to Christine, who was laying the table for supper. + +"Aren't you at all afraid, here in the heart of this forest?" + +"Why, what should we be afraid of? We're not rich enough to tempt +robbers. Come, Christine, look alive; monsieur will want to sleep when +he's had his supper." + +"Oh! don't hurry her so." + +The stranger, having recovered somewhat from his excitement, began to +look about him with more attention; and as he scrutinized the different +parts of the room, he at last observed Sister Anne seated on the heap of +straw, with her eyes fixed upon his with an expression which made it +impossible for him not to notice her. Taken by surprise, he gazed for +some time with interest at the dumb girl's pale, worn features, and +seemed puzzled by the strange way in which she looked at him. + +"Who is that girl?" he asked Christine; "I didn't notice her before." + +"That! oh! she don't amount to much," replied the tall woman, shortly. + +"Isn't she your child?" + +"No, monsieur," said Leroux; "she's an unfortunate deaf mute that I +found in the forest; and we took her in from charity. She'll soon be a +mother, and I took pity on her." + +"That does you honor, monsieur; the poor thing is so young, and her face +so sweet! Haven't you been able to find out where she came from, or her +name?" + +"How in the devil do you suppose one can find out anything from a deaf +and dumb woman? However, it don't make much difference; she's pretty +near an idiot, too, I think; but I'll keep her here." + +When she heard this, Sister Anne rose and walked slowly toward the +stranger, still gazing at him with an expression of interest blended +with compassion. + +"Well, well! what's she doing?" said Leroux; "the poor girl has surely +lost her reason! Make her go into the other room, Christine; it's time +she went to bed." + +Christine pushed the dumb girl roughly toward the door of the rear room. +Sister Anne left the stranger's presence with profound regret; she would +have liked to keep him in sight, because she took the liveliest interest +in his welfare; but she was forced to obey. She walked slowly toward the +door, still looking at the stranger, who seemed touched by the intensity +of her gaze and followed her with his eyes until the door closed upon +her. + +Christine went into the rear room with Sister Anne; she looked through +the window, and seemed disturbed by the non-return of the robbers. The +dumb girl lay down on the pallet, not to sleep, but to reflect upon the +means of saving the stranger by warning him of the risk he ran if he +remained in the cabin. How could she gain access to him, and how make +herself understood? At that moment, Leroux entered the room and closed +the door carefully; then he went up to Christine, and, thanks to their +conviction that Sister Anne could not hear them, she was soon made +acquainted with their plans. + +"Well! can't you hear them coming?" asked Leroux. + +"No; I can't hear anything." + +"It's very strange! what can they be doing in the forest since that man +got here? I don't feel easy in my mind; he said something about horses +and constables. Suppose our friends are arrested!" + +"The devil! would they sell us?" + +"Hark ye! when this stranger's had his supper and gone to sleep, I'll go +out and try to find out something. If the others are in the forest, I +know where to find 'em. If they're taken or gone, we'll take advantage +of the stranger's sleep to make way with him, and with what he has on +him we'll do well to get out of danger ourselves by leaving the forest." + +"That's a good idea; give him his supper, and let him go to sleep; and +then, when you come back, we'll go to work. Meanwhile, I'll lie down and +rest a bit." + +"Yes, do; don't be afraid but what I'll wake you when I need you." + +Leroux went back to the traveller, and the repulsive Christine threw +herself on the bed, beside Sister Anne, who had to endure the close +proximity of a creature whom she knew to be planning a murder with the +most revolting deliberation. But the poor girl did not stir; she had +overheard all the conversation of those monsters, she had not lost a +word of their schemes, and she still hoped to save the stranger. A +single fear oppressed her: that the three robbers would return; for then +all would be lost; she would be compelled to witness the unfortunate +man's death, or to die with him. + +Christine was hardly on the bed when a prolonged snore indicated that +she was asleep. Thereupon Sister Anne rose softly and crept to the +partition, where she put her eye to a crack through which she could look +into the other room. + +The stranger was tranquilly eating his supper; Leroux strove to +entertain him, but he constantly listened with marked disquietude for +sounds out of doors, and seemed desirous that the traveller should go to +bed at once. Sister Anne was able to observe the old man's features at +her leisure; and the more she looked at him, the stronger grew her +feeling of interest and attachment, which seemed not to be born solely +of his perilous situation. At the slightest noise caused by the wind or +by the falling of a dead branch, the girl shivered in mortal terror, +fancying that it was the three brigands returning; whereas, on the +contrary, Leroux's face would assume a look of satisfaction, as he ran +and listened at the door, hoping to hear his confederates' voices. + +"Are you expecting company?" inquired the stranger. + +"No, monsieur, no; it's the fear of robbers that makes me keep my ears +open; but I'm beginning to think they haven't followed you; so you can +go to sleep quietly." + +"I'll lie down till daybreak; then you will be good enough to guide me +to the nearest village." + +"Yes, monsieur, with pleasure; but you can sleep comfortably; it's a +long while to daybreak. This is the only bed I can offer you--fresh +straw; I'm sorry not to be able to give you anything better, but we're +pretty poor!" + +"Oh! I shall be very comfortable; don't worry at all about me." + +As he spoke, the stranger lay down on the straw and tried to sleep; +while Leroux stood before the fire, turning his head now and again to +see if his guest had fallen asleep. The dumb girl, her eye still glued +to the crack in the partition, did not lose either of them from sight, +and prayed fervently that Christine might not wake. + +At last, the traveller seemed to doze, and Leroux went to fetch his +weapons from the cellar, the opening to which was covered by a plank and +concealed by a heap of straw. Sister Anne shuddered; suppose the villain +proposed to murder the old man at once! But, no; having replaced the +board, he stole softly from the cabin, muttering: "I'll go to the usual +place; and if they ain't there, I'll come right back." + +He opened the door without a sound, and disappeared. The time to act had +come; the dumb girl summoned all her courage, and stole into the other +room, walking on tiptoe for fear of waking Christine; then she locked +the door securely, to prevent her from coming out in case she should +wake. The room in which the stranger lay asleep was lighted only by the +fire on the hearth. Sister Anne went to him, grasped his arm, and +squeezed it with all her force. The old man woke, and was surprised to +see her bending over him with an expression of the most intense and +painful anxiety on her face. He was about to speak, but she hastily +placed a finger on his lips, and her eyes, as she glanced about in +terror, bade him keep perfectly still. He rose and nervously awaited an +explanation of this mysterious scene. + +Sister Anne ran to the cellar, succeeded in raising the opening, took a +blazing brand from the fire, and, motioning to the traveller to come +near, showed him the interior, where there were weapons and garments of +all sorts, the blood with which they were covered sufficiently attesting +the method by which the robbers had come into possession of them. The +stranger shuddered. + +"Great God!" he said; "am I in a den of thieves?" + +The girl nodded her head, then ran to the pile of straw, and indicated +by signs that they intended to return and murder him while he slept. + +The stranger at once took possession of a pair of pistols which he found +near the entrance to the cellar. + +"At all events, I will sell my life dearly," he said. "But you, poor +woman, what are you to do?" + +Sister Anne interrupted him by running to the door of the cabin, +throwing it open, and making signs that he must fly at once and that she +would go with him. The stranger took her hand, and they left the house. +At that moment, Christine, hearing a noise, rose and tried to leave her +room; when she found that she was locked in, she began to shriek and +call Leroux, and, running to the window, saw the dumb girl and the +stranger just disappearing in the forest. + +"Damnation! they've got away!" cried Christine, trying to remove the +bars at the window. + +The old man pointed one of his pistols at her; but Sister Anne stopped +him, making him understand that the report would attract the brigands. +Her companion saw that she was right; so they fled, and, leaving the +vile creature hurling curses at them, they were soon far away from the +robbers' lair. + +After wandering about the forest more than an hour, trembling at the +slightest sound, lest they should fall in with Leroux and his +confederates, the fugitives heard the steps of several horses. That +could be nothing but the constabulary in search of the brigands. The +dumb girl and the stranger started in the direction of the sound. Soon a +man passed them, running at full speed; it was Leroux, with a horseman +in pursuit. Another man on horseback followed, and, when he saw Sister +Anne's companion, cried: "Here's my master! Thank heaven, the scoundrels +didn't kill him!" + +The traveller pointed out to the officers the abode of the brigands; +then, mounting a horse that his servant was leading, he took the dumb +girl _en croupe_ who had saved his life, and they rode rapidly out of +the forest. + +The traveller did not cease to express his gratitude to his liberatress, +while she thanked God that she was no longer in the power of the +robbers. + +The servant told his master that, a few moments after he had fled into +the forest, the constables appeared, and the outlaws thought of nothing +but escape; but two of them were overtaken, and were killed while +resisting capture. Thereupon, taking the horses, which had already been +unhitched from the chaise, the servant had mounted one and joined the +constables who were searching the forest, hoping to find his master. + +A danger passed is soon forgotten. They arrived at a large village, and +the travellers knocked at the door of a farmhouse, where they were made +welcome and received every attention. The dumb girl was especially in +need of speedy assistance. The horrible situation in which she had been +placed for two days, the danger she had barely escaped, the superhuman +effort she had made during that ghastly night--all these things together +had been too much for the unfortunate child, who was hardly able to +stand erect. They put her in a warm bed; the people at the farm, when +they learned of her condition and of what she had done to save the aged +traveller, manifested the most sympathetic interest in her, and her +companion would not go to bed until he was certain that everything +possible had been done for his liberatress. + +The next day, the carriage, which had been found on the road, was +brought to the farm, and there was nothing to prevent the stranger from +continuing his journey; but Sister Anne was in a high fever, and he was +unwilling to leave her until he was assured that her life was in no +danger. The best physician in the neighborhood was summoned; the +stranger spent money lavishly to provide her with everything that her +condition demanded. He passed a large part of the day in her room, +adding his attentions to those of the farmer's family. + +Sister Anne was conscious of all that he did for her, and her heart was +deeply touched. Despite her weakness and suffering, she seized his hand +and pressed it gratefully. + +"Poor woman!" said the stranger, profoundly affected; "I will not leave +you until my mind is at rest concerning your life. I would have liked to +take you to your destination, in my carriage. What can I do for you? You +can hear me, I see; so that you are deprived of the power of speech +only. Do you know how to write?" + +Sister Anne shook her head; then she seemed suddenly to remember +something, and made a movement with her hand as if she were trying to +form letters. The old man handed her a pen, but she could not use it; +then he gave her a piece of chalk; whereupon she sat up in bed, leaned +over a table that stood beside it, and succeeded, not without a mighty +effort, in writing the name _Frédéric_ with the chalk. That done, she +pointed to it and sadly shook her head, as if to say: + +"That is all I know." + +The old man seemed greatly surprised when he read the name she had +written on the table. He reflected a moment, then looked at Sister Anne +with renewed interest; but it seemed to her that the expression of his +eyes was less gentle, that there was in it a touch of sternness which +she could not define. + +"And your own name," he said; "can't you write that?" + +Sister Anne shook her head, and again wrote the name _Frédéric_. + +The traveller seemed extremely preoccupied all the rest of the day, and +whenever his eyes rested on the dumb girl he fell into a profound +reverie. For five days, Sister Anne's condition was such that her life +was in danger, and the old man did not leave the farm. At the end of +that time there was a perceptible improvement; the physician promised +that she would recover, but said that she would be very weak for a long +time, and that it would be imprudent in the extreme for her to leave +the farm before her lying-in. + +Sister Anne's eyes filled with tears when she was told of this; she was +afraid of being a burden to the kind-hearted folk who had taken her in; +but the stranger lost no time in pacifying and consoling her. + +"I have provided for everything," he said; "wait here until your health +is fully restored, and, if nothing calls you elsewhere, remain +permanently with these good people; they love you, and you will be happy +here." + +But Sister Anne sadly shook her head, and motioned with her hand that +she must go a long, long way. The stranger, who had already given +twenty-five louis to the villagers for their past and future care of the +young woman, put a purse filled with gold in his rescuer's hands. She +would fain have refused it, and was sadly at a loss to express her +gratitude. + +"You owe me nothing, my child," he said; "remember that you saved my +life, and that I shall owe you gratitude as long as I live. Take this +paper too; my name and address are written on it. If you are ever in +difficulty, let me know, and always count on my protection." + +Sister Anne took the paper and placed it in the purse he had given her. +He, after gazing at her for some moments with evident emotion, kissed +her on the forehead, then, tearing himself away from her demonstrations +of gratitude, entered his carriage and drove away, leaving at the farm +abundant tokens of his generosity. + +After he had gone, Sister Anne was melancholy and depressed for a long +while. Her heart went out to that stranger; in her mind, his image had +taken its place beside Frédéric's; but the loving friendship she felt +for the one in no wise impaired her ardent love for the other. + + + + +XXV + +THE MARRIAGE TAKES PLACE + + +Frédéric did not pass a day without seeing Constance; since the lovers +had mutually avowed their love, that sentiment seemed to grow stronger +hourly in both their hearts. Mademoiselle de Valmont loved with the +unrestrained ardor of a heart that no longer seeks to conceal its +feelings. She was proud of Frédéric's love for her, and her happiness +consisted in returning it. + +Frédéric, even more passionate and impulsive, yielded to the sentiment +that swept him off his feet; but, while he loved as dearly, he could not +be so happy; he needed to forget himself, to banish recollections which +disturbed his bliss. Like those persons who never look behind, for fear +of seeing something to frighten them, Frédéric tried to drive away the +thoughts that carried him back to a still recent period. He desired to +think solely of Constance, he knew that thenceforth she ought to prevail +over all other women; of what use, then, was an occasional sigh which +would bring no comfort to her whom he had abandoned? A man may argue +thus, but, none the less, even in the very bosom of happiness, there is +something in the bottom of his heart that reproves him for the wrong he +has done--unless, indeed, he has no heart, and there are many people in +whom we should seek for it in vain. + +The Comte de Montreville had been absent a fortnight. Frédéric was not +certain as to the purpose of his father's journey, although he +suspected it; but he had no desire to take advantage of his absence to +go away himself. Could he leave Constance for a single day? Although she +had set his mind at rest as to the marriage that had frightened him, +Frédéric was not altogether satisfied. He begged his betrothed to +question her uncle on that subject. Constance dared not mention it to +the general; but at last, vanquished by Frédéric's entreaties, she made +up her mind to question him, and one morning she went to him in his +study. + +"Uncle," she began, blushing, and lowering her eyes, "I have been told +that you have been making plans for me." + +The general smiled as he looked at her, then tried to assume a serious +tone, with which, however, his expression did not harmonize. + +"Who told you, mademoiselle, that I had made plans concerning you?" + +"Monsieur Frédéric, uncle, who learned it from his father." + +"The devil! so Monsieur Frédéric interests himself in it, does he? What +might these plans be, mademoiselle?" + +"You should know better than I, uncle." + +"Gad! that's true, you're right. Well, yes, I have a plan of my own." + +"For my future, uncle?" asked Constance, in a trembling voice. + +"Yes, for your marriage, in fact." + +"Marriage! can it be possible? Oh! uncle----" + +And the sweet girl looked up at the general, with appealing eyes already +filled with tears. + +"Come, come, calm yourself, morbleu!" exclaimed the general, taking her +hand. "Here you are up in arms, as if I proposed to make you unhappy. +Don't you want to marry?" + +"Oh! I don't say that, uncle." + +"Well, then, why this terror when I tell you that I think of giving you +a husband?" + +"Why, because I want--I don't want----" + +"Because you want and don't want! Deuce take it! why can't a woman ever +say what she means! Why don't you tell me at once that you don't want to +marry anyone but Frédéric?" + +"Oh! uncle, did you know----" + +"I should have to be as blind as a bat not to know that; and this fine +gentleman, who presumes to love my niece--and who sighs and is +melancholy and tears his hair, instead of just coming to me and asking +for her hand----" + +"Oh! my dear uncle--are you really willing?" + +"Parbleu! am I in the habit of not being willing to do anything you +want?" + +"But this marriage with some colonel?" + +"That was a fable invented by my old friend--I don't quite know why; but +he came to me and begged me to let him say that; I couldn't refuse to +let him do as he chose, although I don't understand all this mystery; +for it seems to me that when two young people love each other and are +suited to each other, there's no need of marching and countermarching to +marry them. But, no matter; Montreville has his tactics, and he's bound +to follow them. Don't think of telling Frédéric this, for his father +would be angry with me; but when he comes back, which will be soon, I'll +put an end to all this prevarication, and give you to your lover, or +he'll end by making himself ill with his sighing." + +Constance kissed her uncle and left him; the certainty of happiness made +her more beautiful than ever. Frédéric soon returned, and inquired +anxiously what her uncle had said to her. Constance tried to dissemble +her joy; the most loving woman is not sorry to tease her lover a little +now and then, for in his torments she sees fresh proofs of his love. + +"Well!" said Frédéric, impatiently; "why don't you answer me? You have +spoken to your uncle about this proposed marriage--has he formed such a +plan?" + +"Why, yes; he is thinking of marrying me." + +"Then I was right!" cried the young man, with an agitation that made +Constance tremble; "he is thinking of it; my father told me the truth. +But you shall not be stolen from my love----" + +"My dear, don't get excited." + +"How can I help it, when you tell me that you are to be married? +Constance, if your uncle is a tyrant, I will carry you off. We will fly +together to the ends of the earth! You, you alone, will suffice for my +happiness! This very night, if you agree, we will start. What, +mademoiselle, you laugh at sight of my despair!" + +"Oh! Frédéric, what a hot-headed boy you are!" + +"Ah! mademoiselle is pleased to give me lessons in self-restraint! It +seems to me that this projected marriage doesn't disturb you much. Is +this how you love me?" + +"Naughty boy! what a savage reproof! Ah! my dear, because my love is +more placid than yours, don't think that it is less strong and deep." + +"But this marriage that your uncle has in mind?" + +"Suppose it were you, monsieur, to whom he thinks of marrying me?" + +"Me!" + +Frédéric's features lightened up with a new expression; and Constance +put her finger on his lips, saying: + +"Hush! not a word, my dear; uncle forbade me to speak--but how can I let +you suffer long?" + +"What, Constance, can it really be true? Oh! what bliss! your uncle is +the best of men! Let me go and throw myself at his feet!" + +"No, indeed! do you want him to scold me? shall I never be able to make +you amenable to reason? Sit down here, monsieur, by my side." + +"But when may I tell him that I love you?" + +"When your father returns--he won't be away much longer, I am sure. Do +you know whether he went very far?" + +"Why--no--I don't think so; I am not certain." + +"Well, my dear, now you are pensive." + +"No, indeed I'm not!" + +"So long as we were not certain of our happiness, I overlooked these +dreamy airs, these fits of melancholy that seize you sometimes when you +are with me; but understand, monsieur, that I won't have any more of +such nonsense. You have no trouble, dear, no secret sorrow, that you +can't confide to Constance, have you?" + +"Of course not!" + +"Promise me that you will tell me everything, absolutely everything; +that I shall have your entire confidence. Ought a husband and wife to +conceal anything from each other?" + +"Yes, Constance, I promise; I will tell you all my thoughts." + +Frédéric was not absolutely truthful at that moment, but his falsehood +was excusable, for his entire confidence just then would not have +afforded great pleasure to Constance, who was convinced that her lover +thought of no one but her, and who, despite her tranquil air, her +gentleness, and her confidence, loved Frédéric too ardently not to be +susceptible to jealousy, a sentiment which, in women, is almost always +inseparably connected with love. + +The Comte de Montreville returned to Paris after an absence of nearly a +month. Under any other circumstances, Frédéric would have been surprised +at the length of a journey which might have been completed in a +fortnight, but in Constance's company he had given little thought to it. +When he saw his father again, however, all his memories of Dauphiné +rushed back into his mind; he was embarrassed in his presence, longing +to question him, but shrinking from it. + +The count himself did not seem the same as before his departure; he was +often pensive and abstracted, as if his thoughts were engrossed by some +subject; and when he looked at his son, he, too, seemed to desire and +dread an explanation. At last, Frédéric ventured to question him, and, +contrary to his expectation, his father replied with no trace of the +stern, cold manner which he was wont to assume on approaching that +subject. + +"Have you been in Dauphiné?" said Frédéric; "did you go to Vizille?" + +"Yes," said the count; "I visited the neighborhood of that village, +including the wood where you lived so long." + +"And did you see that--girl?" + +"No, I did not see her; she had left her cabin only a few days before, +and there was nobody there but an old shepherd." + +"What! Sister Anne not at her old home? Is it possible? And what of +Marguerite?" + +"The old woman died some months ago." + +"And Sister Anne has gone away? Poor child! what can have become of her? +In her plight, how could she find her way, make herself understood? Ah! +unfortunate girl!" + +"What do you mean?" cried the count, gazing at his son with an +expression of the most intense interest; "what is this girl's plight, +which makes her such an object of pity? Answer me, Frédéric!" + +"When she was seven years old, father, Sister Anne lost the power of +speech; a shocking calamity and a horrible fright deprived the poor +child of the possibility of making herself understood." + +"Great God!" said the count, thunderstruck by what his son had said; "it +is she! I had divined it!" + +But Frédéric did not hear his father's last words. He was engrossed by +the thought of Sister Anne, fancying that he saw her wandering through +the woods and fields, helpless and without shelter, turned away from +most public-houses, and everywhere exposed to want and misfortune. He +reflected that that was all his work, that, if he had not tried to +arouse in her heart a violent passion, she would have lived quietly in +her solitude, with no thirst for pleasures of which she knew nothing, +and with no dreams of happiness and of a different existence. At that +moment, Frédéric was overwhelmed by remorse, and he reproached himself +bitterly for his conduct to a woman of whom he was no longer enamored, +but who was still dear to him. + +For a long time, the count and his son were buried in thought. The count +broke the silence at last, saying in a voice that shook with emotion: + +"Have no concern as to that young woman's present lot. I have found +her." + +"You have found her, father? is it possible?" + +"Yes; on a farm near Grenoble. I left her there, and I provided against +her ever being in want." + +"But how did you find her? You could not recognize her." + +"Her misfortune, her youth--she interested me deeply; something told me +that she was the person I sought, and I have no doubt of it now, since +you have told me that she is dumb. I tell you again that you need not be +alarmed concerning her future; I left her with excellent people, who are +fond of her, and she will be very comfortable there; moreover, I shall +not fail to have an eye to her welfare." + +The count was careful not to mention his adventure in the forest and his +indebtedness to Sister Anne; he was afraid that Frédéric's love would +blaze up anew if he should learn that she had saved his father's life. +He was especially solicitous that Frédéric should not know that the dumb +girl was on the point of becoming a mother; that intelligence might +disarrange the plans he had formed. For the count, although he was +interested now in Sister Anne, and proposed to take care of her and her +child, was none the less desirous for his son's marriage to his old +friend's niece; and to that end he considered it most essential to +conceal everything relating to the unhappy mute. + +On arriving in Paris, he had expressly forbidden his servant to mention +the adventure in the forest or the young woman they had left at the +farm. + +His father's assurance that Sister Anne was living among kindly people, +and was amply provided against want, allayed Frédéric's remorse. That +sentiment rarely lasts long in love, and the new passion is always at +hand to dispel the memories of the old one. By Constance's side the +young man entirely forgot the poor maid of the woods; and while renewing +his oaths and protestations of love to Constance, he lost the memory of +those he had laid at another woman's feet. + +The Comte de Montreville's return was soon to be followed by the +marriage of the young people. Frédéric longed for it, Constance hoped +for it, and the general made no objection, because he did not believe in +making lovers sigh too long. + +Thus everybody was agreed; there was no obstacle to delay their +happiness. The wedding day was fixed. The general vowed that he would +dance at his niece's wedding, although he had never danced in his life; +the count was anxious to greet Constance by the sweet name of daughter, +and the lovers--oh! you know what their desires were; it may be guessed, +but must not be said. + +Engrossed by his approaching happiness, Frédéric was rarely disturbed by +the memories which brought a sad expression to his face; if by chance a +sigh escaped him, a glance from Constance speedily put to flight the +thoughts of other times. Constance was so sweet-tempered, and the near +approach of happiness made her so beautiful, that it was impossible not +to adore her. + +At last the day arrived which was to witness the union of Frédéric and +Constance. The Comte de Montreville was so overjoyed that he allowed his +son to invite everyone he chose. Frédéric knew no better friend than +Dubourg, who, with all his follies, had often given him proofs of a +genuine attachment. Moreover, since Dubourg had inherited his aunt's +property, he had become much more sensible. To be sure, he was always +hard up about the middle of the month, but he had not pledged his +income, and he had taken up dominoes instead of écarté, that being a +game at which one gets much less excited. + +Ménard was not forgotten, either. The worthy man was much attached to +Frédéric; he had been a little too indulgent on the journey, but the +count had forgiven that; moreover, he had always acted with the best +intentions. As for his fondness for the table, that is often considered +in society an estimable quality. + +Constance was dressed with taste and elegance; but one could pay no heed +to her toilet, in presence of her beauty and her charms; for happiness, +which embellishes everything, adds to the fascination of a pretty face. +The men can only admire that; as for the women, they see at a glance +every detail of the costume, and can, at need, tell us how every pin was +put in, and how many pleats there were in the gown, in front and behind; +our perspicacity will never go so far as that. + +Frédéric was radiant with love; he did not lose sight of Constance, +which is the surest means of having no unpleasant recollections. +Frédéric was very comely, too; his face was noble and winning; and if +the men admired Constance, the women were not inclined to pity her for +marrying Frédéric. + +The general and the count felt the keenest satisfaction in the union of +their children. In his joy, Monsieur de Valmont was more hilarious and +effusive than the Comte de Montreville; but the latter smiled benignly +upon everybody, and, for the first time, embraced his son tenderly. + +Monsieur Ménard was dressed with care and maintained a very sedate +bearing until the dinner. As for Dubourg, he was overjoyed to be invited +to his friend's wedding, and, as he desired to obtain the count's good +graces, he assumed throughout the day such a dignified air, that he +looked as if he had a fit of the _spleen_; and he tried so hard to be +staid and respectable, that he might well have been taken for a man of +sixty. Whenever the count approached him, he discoursed upon the +illusive pleasures of the world, of the bliss of retirement, and of the +joys that await the just man after death. He carried it so far, that the +general said to Frédéric: + +"What a devil of a fellow your friend Dubourg is! Does he pass his time +in graveyards? I have been to him once or twice to talk, and he at once +quotes a passage from Young's _Night Thoughts_ or Massillon's _Petit +Carême_. He's a very cheerful guest for a wedding party." + +Frédéric went to Dubourg and urged him to act as he naturally would; +but, convinced that his conversation, his tone, and his bearing +delighted Monsieur de Montreville, it was impossible to induce Dubourg +to change them. + +A magnificent dinner was served at the Hôtel de Montreville, whence the +young people were to return in the evening to the general's house, where +they were to live. As the general was often absent, he required only a +small suite, and gave up three-fourths of the house to the newly married +pair. + +Marriages in the first society have not the hilarity of bourgeois +marriages; which fact is some compensation to the bourgeoisie for not +belonging to the first society. However, the repast was rather merry in +a mild way. Monsieur Ménard devoted himself to the good cheer, as he did +at Monsieur Chambertin's; but Dubourg ate little; he refused almost +every dish, because he thought it much more _comme il faut_. Nor was it +possible to induce him to accept a glass of champagne or liqueur. + +"I never take it," he said, with imperturbable phlegm. + +The Comte de Montreville stared at him in amazement, while Ménard, who +sat next to him, said again and again: + +"You used to take it, though; I've seen you take it often enough! Say +you're sick, and I'll believe you." + +"Your friend is wonderfully sober," said the general to Frédéric; "you +have brought us an anchorite." + +After the dinner, dancing engaged the attention of the guests for the +rest of the evening. The new husband and wife indulged in that pastime, +which enabled them to wait with more patience for the greater pleasures +to come; dancing is always essential to bring a wedding party to a +cheerful termination. + +But Dubourg did not dance; he walked stiffly through the salons, holding +his head as if he had a stiff neck, and never stopping near an écarté +table. + +"Don't you play, Monsieur Dubourg?" asked the count, with a smile. + +"No, monsieur le comte; I have altogether renounced all games for money; +I care for nothing but chess; that is the only sensible game, and the +only one suited to me." + +"Don't you dance, either?" + +"Never; I care for nothing but the minuet, which is a sedate and +dignified dance. It's a great pity that it isn't danced nowadays." + +"The deuce! Monsieur Dubourg, you are tremendously changed. You used to +be a little giddy, I think." + +"Ah! monsieur le comte, other times, other cares; with advancing years, +one grows wiser." + +"Advancing years! why, it's not one year yet since you played Hippolyte, +and would have made poor Ménard play Thésée." + +"Oh! monsieur le comte, a very great revolution has taken place in me +since then. I care for nothing now but study and science--science above +all things; for, as Cato says: _Sine doctrina vita est quasi mortis +imago_." + +The count walked away with a smile on his face, and Dubourg was +convinced that he was greatly pleased with him. The day was at an end. +Ménard returned to his tiny lodging, reviewing in his mind all the +delicious dishes he had eaten. Dubourg was no sooner outside the house +than he began to jump and run like a schoolboy who is no longer under +the master's eye. Frédéric and Constance were happy. Annoying witnesses +were no longer present to curb the transports of their affection. +Company is a burden to lovers, and they await impatiently solitude and +mystery. At last, Frédéric was permitted to take his wife away; on the +wedding night, a husband is a lover who abducts his mistress. + + + + +XXVI + +SISTER ANNE BECOMES A MOTHER.--HER LONG STAY AT THE FARM + + +Sister Anne was still at the farmhouse where the Comte de Montreville +left her; for it is no longer a secret to us that the stranger whom she +had rescued from the robbers' hovel was Frédéric's father, then +returning from Vizille, where he had been to inquire concerning the fate +of the girl whom his son had abandoned. He had found no one in the cabin +in the woods but the old shepherd, who did not know in what direction +Sister Anne had gone. To all the count's questions, he could make no +other answer than: + +"She's gone away; she insisted on going; I don't know where she's gone." + +On leaving the woods, the count had visited the outskirts of Grenoble, +and was on his way back to Lyon when his carriage was stopped in the +forest. + +Sister Anne, despite her longing to continue her journey, realized that +she was in no condition to travel; the moment of her delivery was +drawing near, when she could press to her heart the fruit of her love. +That thought diminished her suffering to some extent; the hope of seeing +her child diverted her thoughts at times from her troubles, and everyone +at the farm strove to restore her peace of mind and to bring back a +smile to her lips. They were worthy people, who took the most +affectionate interest in the poor girl. Even without recompense, they +would have been no less kind to her; but money does no harm, and the sum +the Comte de Montreville had given them, when he requested them to +continue to take care of Sister Anne, was considerable, according to +their ideas. + +The dumb girl, realizing that her stay among them must be long, offered +them the purse that the old gentleman had given her just before he went +away; but they would take nothing from her. + +"Keep the money," said the farmer's wife; "keep it, my child; that +excellent man you saved from the robbers paid for everything; in fact, +he paid us too much. We didn't need that to be kind to you; you're so +pretty and sweet and unfortunate! Poor little woman! I can make a guess +at your situation. Some man abused your innocence and inexperience; he +deceived you, and then dropped you! That's the story of most young girls +who haven't got any father and mother to protect 'em from the snares +those fine fellows lay for 'em. Don't cry, my child; I'm a long way +from blaming you; you're less to blame than other women! But the man who +deserted you's the one as ought to be punished. The idea of leaving you, +in the condition you're in! he must be a hard-hearted wretch!" + +When she heard that, Sister Anne made a hasty gesture as if to prevent +the farmer's wife from saying any more; she put her finger on her lips +and shook her head vigorously, evidently to deny what the woman had +said. + +"Well, well!" said the farmer's wife; "she don't want me to speak ill of +him! she still loves him! That's just like a woman: always ready to make +excuses for the man that does 'em the most harm. But don't you be +worried about the future, my child; stay with us; we'll love you like +our own daughter and take good care of you. You're out of reach of want +forever here." + +Sister Anne pressed her hand affectionately, but her eyes refused to +make a promise which her heart had no intention of keeping. Frédéric was +still supreme in that ardent heart, and the girl did not renounce the +hope of finding him. + +A short time after the stranger's departure, Sister Anne, remembering +that he had given her a paper, took it from the purse and carried it to +the farmer's wife, being anxious to know what was written on it. The +woman read: _Comte de Montreville_, _Rue de Provence_, _Paris_. There +was nothing else on the paper, and Sister Anne had no suspicion that it +was Frédéric's father's name, for her lover had never mentioned his +family name in her presence. But she was overjoyed when the farmer's +wife read _Paris;_ she tried to make her understand that that was where +she wanted to go; then she carefully replaced the paper in the purse. + +"That's the gentleman's address," said her hostess; "I tell you, he +ain't like most men; he's grateful, and he won't ever forget what you +did for him. I'm sure he'd give you a kind reception, if you should go +to Paris; but what would you do in that big city? Take my advice, my +child, and stay with us; you'll be happier here." + +Sister Anne was overjoyed to possess that paper with the name of the +city to which she meant to go some day. With it, she could make herself +understood, and she thanked heaven for that gift, which would enable her +to find that wonderful Paris where she hoped to find her lover as well. + +After she had been two months at the farm, Sister Anne brought a son +into the world. With what delirious joy did she contemplate her child! +with what transports did she listen to his first cries! One must have +been a mother to understand the perfect bliss of that moment. Already +she fancied that she could recognize Frédéric's features in her child's; +she gazed at him incessantly and covered him with kisses; her son was +never out of her arms; weak as she was, she nursed him herself. The +farmer's wife did not try to thwart her desire, for it is a source of +ever-recurring delight to a mother, and Sister Anne seemed to enjoy it +more keenly than another. She was so proud and happy when she held her +child to her breast, that she forgot her sorrows for the moment. She did +not forget Frédéric, but her heart was no longer oppressed by sombre +melancholy; the sight of her child often brought a smile to her lips; +she felt that for her son a mother can endure everything. + +Some weeks after her confinement, Sister Anne manifested a wish to +resume her journey; but the good people at the farm remonstrated with +her. + +"Can you think of such a thing," said the farmer's wife, "as starting on +a journey, with a child at the breast? Remember that you don't expose +your own life only, but his too. Do you suppose that if you set out in +search of new dangers and fatigue, he'll be able to get nourishment from +your breast? No, it isn't possible; the child will soon get sick and +die, if you persist in your plan." + +Endanger her son's life! that thought made the dumb girl shudder. There +was no sacrifice she would not make for her child; it was a very great +one to postpone her journey; but what the farmer's wife had said +instantly decided her to remain at the farm until her son could no +longer feel the effects of his mother's trials and sorrows. + +"Good, good! you are going to stay," said the good woman, reading in +Sister Anne's eyes that she would not insist. "That's right, my child; +you are sensible. In a year, or a year and a half, if your son is strong +enough, then we'll see; but till then you mustn't think of travelling." + +Sister Anne had made up her mind, and, although she still thought of +Frédéric, she devoted her whole attention to her child. As the result of +her unremitting care, she had the joy of seeing him grow larger and +stronger every day; his cheeks glowed with health, his lips wore a sweet +smile, and his little arms seemed to embrace with gratitude her who had +given him life. + +By writing before her hosts the name of Frédéric, Sister Anne had +succeeded in making them understand that this was the name she wished to +give her son. They called him by no other name, and the young mother +felt a fresh thrill of joy every time that that name fell upon her ear; +how much greater her joy would be when her child should answer to it! + +She had been at the farm six months, when a courier arrived with a +package containing twenty-five louis and a note from the Comte de +Montreville to the farmer and his wife. In the note, he once more +commended the young woman to their care, and informed them that he would +send them a like sum for her every six months. + +The farmer's wife lost no time in telling Sister Anne what Monsieur de +Montreville had done for her, and the poor girl's eyes filled with tears +of gratitude. + +"What an excellent man!" said the farmer's wife. "I was sure he wouldn't +forget you. _Morgué!_ I tell you once more, if the fancy to go to Paris +should take you again by and by, you must go to this gentleman's house +right away. _Dame!_ my child, he's a count, you see, a nobleman, a +powerful man. He seems to be very rich, too; and if your seducer's in +Paris, he'll soon find him for you; and perhaps he'll give him such good +advice that he'll induce him not to leave you again." + +Sister Anne signified that she agreed with the farmer's wife, and that +she would do all that she suggested. Then she compelled her to accept +the money sent by the count, and was much happier in the thought that +she was not a burden to the good people who treated her so kindly. + +The weeks and months passed. Sister Anne fairly idolized her son. He +filled the place of all that she had lost; in him, she saw once more the +brother who was so dear to her, and whose death caused her such a fatal +shock; she saw Frédéric too; his features were reproduced in his son's. +She sought to anticipate the child's slightest desires; she watched his +glance, his smile; and her touching devotion made the time since she had +seen her lover, and that which was still to pass before she could hope +to see him again, seem less long to her. + +Little Frédéric promised to have the beauty and the sweet temper of her +who gave him life; he had already learned to lisp that name which is so +sweet to a mother's ear, and Sister Anne realized how essential it was +that he should not be deprived of the care and thought that were so +freely bestowed on him at the farm. If he knew no one but her, the poor +child would never speak; for speech is an art in which a teacher is +necessary. + +The count sent a second remittance at the time he had fixed. His +messenger inquired concerning the dumb girl's condition and the health +of her child, and urged Sister Anne not to leave the farm, where she led +a peaceful life and could devote all her care to her son. + +But Sister Anne did not renounce her desire to go to Paris. Despite the +remonstrances of the farmer's wife, she was determined to resort to +every means of finding Frédéric. Her love for her son did not lessen her +regret at her separation from her lover; on the contrary, it seemed +that, as she contemplated the child's beauty, she felt a most intense +longing to present him to his father. + +"If he should see him," she thought, "could he help loving him? No; and +then he would not dream of parting from me again." + +Little Frédéric was twenty months old. He had long since ceased to +receive nourishment at his mother's breast. He was beginning to take his +first steps; every day he walked more steadily. Sister Anne guided him +and held him up; she watched the growth of his strength and his +faculties. Like the gardener, who observes the changes that the night +has wrought in his young plants, a mother observes each day with delight +the changes that denote her child's progress. + +Being at ease in her mind concerning the boy's health, and ensured +against want by the sum the count had given her when he went away; +moreover, having no doubt that on her arrival in Paris she would find in +him a protector and a friend--Sister Anne determined to undertake the +journey, and one morning she showed the farmer's wife the paper the +count had left with her. That was to announce her purpose. + +Again her hosts tried to induce her to change her resolution, but this +time Sister Anne was immovable; she was determined to leave them and go +to Paris; her heart told her that she would find Frédéric there. + +"Why do you take your child?" said the farmer's wife; "leave him with +us; you know how dearly we love him." + +But Sister Anne could not comprehend a mother's parting from her child +for a single instant; she pressed him to her heart, and signified that +she would never leave him. + +"At least," said the good woman, "as you're bent on going to Paris, you +won't go on foot, like a beggar. I'll take you in my wagon to Lyon, and +there I'll put you into a diligence that will take you and your child to +the end of your journey. When you get there, just show the address +you've got, and they'll show you the way to the Comte de Montreville's. +That gentleman won't turn you away; and when you want to come back to +us, he'll find a way to send you back." + +Sister Anne expressed as best she could her gratitude for all the +kindness she had received. The journey being determined on, they turned +their attention to the preparations. The villagers bought the young +mother linen and clothes and everything that her son needed; they even +tried to force money on her; but her purse contained fifty louis; that +seemed an enormous sum to her, and much more than sufficient to live on +for an indefinite time in Paris, even if the Comte de Montreville should +not help her. She refused to accept any more, and the clothes in which +she was dressed seemed magnificent to her in comparison with those she +had worn in her woods. Her heart throbbed joyfully when she looked at +her simple and tasteful costume, which was that of a young farmer's wife +of Dauphiné. + +"He'll think me prettier than before," she thought; "perhaps he'll love +me more." + +All the preparations were completed; the farmer's wife had her horse +hitched to the wagon, in which she took her place beside Sister Anne, +who held her son in her lap. They started early in the morning, and +arrived at Lyon the same evening. The farmer's wife engaged a seat for +the young mother in the diligence which was to start for Paris the next +day, and recommended her to the conductor, so that he would keep an eye +on her during the journey. + +The hour for their departure arrived: not without abundant tears did the +kind-hearted peasant part from the dumb girl and little Frédéric. + +"You would leave us, my child," she said; "I'm very much afraid you're +making a mistake. You're going to an enormous city. People there won't +be so much interested in you as the folks in our village are. But don't +forget us. Send us word how you're getting along, through Monsieur de +Montreville, who seems to be very fond of you; and if the time should +ever come when you're miserable and unhappy, why, come right back to us; +you'll always be as welcome as a child of our own." + +Sister Anne kissed the good woman affectionately; then, with her son in +her arms, she entered the carriage that was to take her to Paris. + + + + +XXVII + +THE DILIGENCE.--SISTER ANNE IN PARIS + + +A young woman who has never been away from her cabin in the woods until +she is sixteen years of age, whose condition makes her peculiarly +unfamiliar with the world and its customs, must experience countless +novel sensations when she finds herself for the first time surrounded by +strangers in one of those rolling houses that bear us through city and +country. + +Such was the case with Sister Anne, who was not eighteen and a half when +she left Lyon for Paris with her little son of twenty-one months. Seated +in the inmost corner of the conveyance, with her child on her knees, she +dared not look at her fellow travellers, and blushed when she saw that +they were scrutinizing her. + +Her youth, her beauty, her manifest affection for her son, were certain +to make her interesting in the eyes of every sympathetic person. But one +finds little of that quality in a diligence, and the people about Sister +Anne did not seem abundantly provided with it. At her left was a +tradesman who talked incessantly of his business, with another tradesman +who sat opposite him. The course of shares, the price of sugar, coffee, +and cochineal, the transactions that were carried through at the last +market, engrossed these gentlemen so completely that they did not even +find time to apologize to their neighbors when, in their gesticulations, +they stuck an elbow into their ribs or a snuff-box into their faces. At +her right, our young mother had a man of some forty years, with a long, +gaunt face and an oblique glance, who talked little, but seemed to be +listening and trying to become acquainted with his neighbors. Opposite +him was a woman of fifty, in an old, stained silk dress, with a +dilapidated velvet hat embellished by feathers which resembled fish +bones; her bloated face was daubed with rouge, _mouches_, and snuff. +This lady had told her fellow passengers, within ten minutes after +starting, that, having played _ingénue_ parts at Strasbourg, princesses +at Caen, _amoureuses_ at Saint-Malo, shepherdesses at Quimper, queens at +Nantes, noble mothers at Noisy-le-Sec, and _jeunes premières_ at Troyes, +she was on her way to Paris to take the _grande coquette_ parts at the +Théâtre des Funambules; and that she expected to obtain at once an order +permitting her to make her début at the Comédie-Française, which she had +been soliciting for thirty-six years. Lastly, beside the would-be +débutante was a stout man, who slept most of the time, waking up now and +then only to say: + +"Oh! we're going over! I thought we had upset!" + +An exceedingly pleasant neighbor in a diligence. + +During the first few moments, Sister Anne heard nothing but a confused +jumble of words which she could not understand, the tradesmen's talk of +indigo and cochineal being inextricably mingled with the adventures of +the _grande coquette_, who paused only to take snuff and say to her +neighbor the sleeper: + +"Be careful, monsieur; you're rolling over on me. Show me the respect +due to my sex!" + +"Oh! we're going over!" the stout man would reply, rubbing his eyes. + +After attending to our own comfort, we generally end by turning our +attention to other people. The party with the sidelong glance had +already complimented Sister Anne on the beauty of her son, and had +thereby earned a sweet smile from the dumb girl; one is certain to +please a mother by praising her child. + +The lady in the old hat also scrutinized Sister Anne, and said: + +"She's very good-looking, that little woman--a very interesting face. +That's just the costume I wore in _Annette et Lubin_, in 1792; how +becoming it was to me! I must play that part at the Funambules." + +The two tradesmen glanced at Sister Anne; but as little Frédéric had a +lump of sugar in his hand, that naturally brought them back to the +recent fluctuations in the price of that staple. + +"It's a pretty child," said the actress; "he has a lot of expression +already. If he was mine, I'd put him on the stage. In a year he could +play Little Joas in _Athalie_, and in two he could manage the antics of +Polichinello as a vampire. Ah! that's the way children are brought up +now! It's superb! All who stand it are Foriosos at twelve years of age!" + +Sister Anne had no idea what Forioso was, or Little Joas, but she saw +that her companions were noticing her child, and her heart throbbed with +the pleasure and pride so natural in a mother. Soon, however, they began +to question her. + +"Are you going to Paris to have him vaccinated?" said the actress. "Has +he been vaccinated at home? What are you going to do in Paris? Has your +husband gone ahead of you?" + +As she received no reply to any of these questions, the lady began to +lose patience and to consider the young woman's conduct exceedingly +impertinent. + +"Don't you hear me, madame?" she continued, ironically. "It seems to me +that you might do me the honor to answer, when I speak to you." + +Sister Anne shook her head and sadly lowered her eyes. + +"Well! what does that mean?" cried the old débutante; "I verily believe +that she means to imply that she won't answer me! Let me tell you, you +little hussy, that I can find a way to make you speak, and that +Primerose Bérénice de Follencourt is not of a temper to put up with an +insult! I've fought on the stage more than once. I've played men's +parts, and I know how to use a sword--do you hear, little saucebox?" + +Sister Anne, alarmed by the old woman's tone and by her wrathful glance, +looked imploringly at her right-hand neighbor; and he, after gazing at +her with interest, said to the actress: + +"You do wrong to be angry, madame." + +"What do you say? I do wrong?" + +"Surely; for this young woman's silence is not natural. She has not +spoken a word, even to her child, since she has been in the diligence; I +think that she is dumb." + +"Dumb! a dumb woman! that's impossible, monsieur." + +But Sister Anne eagerly nodded her head to confirm the supposition; +whereupon the old actress voiced her amazement so emphatically that her +neighbor woke up. + +"Dumb! can it be possible? Do you hear, monsieur? she's dumb!" + +"Oh! I thought we had upset!" + +"What an insufferable creature you are! He'll give me the hysterics with +his upsets. Poor angel! dear love! are you really dumb, my sweet child? +Oh! how I pity you! how you must suffer! I should much rather be blind +and deaf. Poor little thing! how interesting she is! what a charming +face! And to be unable to talk! How did it happen, my child?" + +Sister Anne, almost as surprised by the actress's sudden outpouring of +friendliness as she had been by her anger, took her purse from her +bosom, took out the paper which she always carried about her, and handed +it to her neighbor, who read it to himself and simply said: + +"It's the address of the house she's going to." + +"To be a wet-nurse, no doubt. Ah! how beautifully she would act in +pantomime! Such a pretty face! how lovely she'd be in _Philomèle et +Térée_!" + +Sister Anne's right-hand neighbor paid no further heed to the old +actress; he seemed preoccupied since he had seen the well-filled purse +which the young mother took from her breast in order to show him the +count's address. From that moment, he redoubled his attentions to her; +he caressed little Frédéric, and carried his gallantry so far as to buy +him barley candy and gingerbread at the first stopping-place. Sister +Anne, whose pure and guileless mind saw only friends and protectors +everywhere, did not notice the shiftiness of her neighbor's expression, +but, on the contrary, felt disposed to give him her full confidence. +Poor child! what will you do in Paris? + +During the second day, Sister Anne's neighbor said to her: + +"I'm well acquainted with the Comte de Montreville, to whose house you +are going. He's a friend of mine. If you like, I'll take you there +myself." + +The dumb girl signified that she accepted his offer with gratitude; and +the old actress, seeing that Sister Anne smiled at her neighbor, pursed +up her lips and cast a contemptuous glance at her, muttering between her +teeth: + +"They're doing well; acquaintance is soon made in a diligence." + +Which shows how quick one is to suspect evil, especially when one has +done it all one's life. As for Sister Anne, she stared at the actress in +amazement; she was utterly unable to understand why, within twenty-four +hours, she should treat her with indignation, friendliness, and scorn. + +At last the diligence reached the great city: Sister Anne was dazed and +bewildered by all that she saw and heard; she felt as if she were in a +new world; for having arrived at Lyon after dark and left early in the +morning, she had seen nothing of that city, whose great size, wealth, +and populousness would have given her some idea of Paris. + +The thin, shifty-eyed gentleman, who was persistent in his attentions to +the dumb girl and her son, helped them to alight from the diligence; and +while the _grande coquette_ of the Funambules rearranged her hat and +crumpled feathers, while the two tradesmen hurried to the Bourse, and +the stout man walked away congratulating himself that the diligence had +not been overturned, the gallant man called a cab, and, having put +Sister Anne's bundles inside, he got in with her and the child. + +The stranger spoke to the driver, then said to the young mother: + +"We will go at once to Monsieur le Comte de Montreville's; I am +delighted to take you there myself, for, being a stranger in Paris, you +might be seriously embarrassed, as you can't make yourself understood." + +Sister Anne thanked him with a glance; the poor child had no suspicion +that she had fallen into the hands of a sharper, a vile blackleg, who, +after exhibiting his talents in all the larger cities, by divers little +exploits which had compelled him to fly from one after another, was now +returning to Paris in the hope that an absence of eight years would have +caused his former dupes to forget him, and that he would be able to make +new ones. But it was inevitable that the dumb girl should fall into the +first trap that was set for her. Meek, trusting, unacquainted with craft +in any form, she never suspected evil. Her adventure in the forest would +have made her afraid of robbers under similar circumstances; but it had +not taught her to distrust those robbers whom she met in the world, and +whom it is much more difficult to recognize, because they cover +themselves with the mask of probity, which often makes them more +dangerous than those who attack us on the highroad. + +The cab stopped in front of a handsome house. Sister Anne's escort at +once alighted, saying to her: + +"Wait a moment; this is the count's house, but we must make sure that he +is at home." + +With that, he went in, but returned in a few moments with a disappointed +air. + +"My dear lady, what I was afraid of has happened: the Comte de +Montreville is in the country; he won't return for two days." + +The girl's expression seemed to say: + +"What shall I do meanwhile? where am I to go?" + +"Don't be alarmed," said the obliging man; "I will not leave you in +embarrassment; I will take you to a respectable house, where you will be +well cared for. Two days are soon passed; then you can return to +monsieur le comte's." + +Sister Anne again expressed her gratitude; she was touched by all the +trouble he took for her, although she was not surprised by it: she +imagined that that was the way everybody acted in the large cities. The +cab started again. The movement delighted little Frédéric; he crowed, +and jumped about on his mother's lap; and she, as she gazed at the tall +houses, the shops, and the crowds of people, artlessly manifested her +amazement. + +"Oh! you'll see much more than this," said her friend; "you'll be +surprised in a thousand different ways; this journey will be very useful +to you." + +The cab stopped in front of a wretched furnished lodging-house in +Faubourg Saint-Jacques; and Sister Anne, on going in, found that that +respectable abode was very dirty and very gloomy; but she followed her +escort, who ordered her bundles carried to the room assigned to them, +and was soon left alone there with the young mother and her child. + +"Before I leave you," he said to Sister Anne, "I must tell you that +there is one little formality to be attended to: when you hire lodgings +in Paris, you must make a statement of what money you have about you. +This is a rule made by the police, so that nothing can ever be lost in +the city; for if you declare to-day that you have forty louis, and one +of them is stolen from you to-morrow, then they go about and count the +contents of the purses of everybody in the capital, and the man who has +one louis too many is the thief. What do you say to that? it's a bright +idea, isn't it?" + +Sister Anne did not clearly understand what he said; she looked at him +as if awaiting a further explanation, and he continued: + +"Will you go to settle the matter with the mistress of the house? or +would you like me to go for you? That will be better. Give me your +purse; it's the quickest way." + +The poor child drew her purse from her bosom; and the obliging gentleman +took it, saying: + +"Don't be impatient; I'll go and count what there is in it." + +Then he left the room, and as he went downstairs he gave the mistress of +the house a gold piece, saying: + +"This is to pay for that young woman's lodging; she's a mute." + +With that, he hurried away, flattering himself that he had performed a +very neat trick; he went to the Palais-Royal, where he found other +blacklegs of his stamp, and soon lost the money he had stolen from a +helpless woman; then, as he was unable to find other dupes who would +give him their purses, he filched one from the pocket of a stout English +milord; the Englishman, having detected him in the act, caused his +arrest; he was taken to the Préfecture, then to Bicêtre, then to the +galleys, where he kept his hand in by stealing from his fellow convicts. +There we will leave him. + +Sister Anne waited and waited for the return of the kind friend who had +gone out with her purse; the poor child had no suspicion, she was not at +all anxious, and played quietly with her son, glancing out of the window +now and then, but instantly drawing back in alarm, because the room was +on the third floor, and she had never been so far above the ground. + +But her friend did not return, and Sister Anne was beginning to wonder +at his long absence, when the landlady appeared. + +The young mother put out her hand for her purse, but the woman simply +asked what she could do for her. + +"I'll take good care of you," said she; "for the gentleman, when he went +away, paid for your board and lodging and whatever you might want during +the two days that he said you would stay here." + +He had gone away! A horrible presentiment enlightened Sister Anne at +last; she tried to make herself understood, constantly holding out her +hand and going through the motion of counting money. + +"I am paid, I tell you," said the landlady; "I don't want anything, my +child, and I'll send up your dinner." + +Sister Anne was overwhelmed; it was not the money simply that she +regretted, for she did not realize its value; but the Comte de +Montreville's address was in her purse, and the villain had carried that +away with all that she possessed. What would become of her? how could +she find her protector's house now? + +During the day, the young woman still retained a little hope, trying to +convince herself that the stranger would return; but night came, and he +did not appear. Sister Anne strained her child to her breast, weeping +bitterly; it was not for herself alone that she trembled, and her terror +was all the more intense on that account. Already she imagined her child +deprived of the sustenance he required; she shuddered as the whole +horror of their situation dawned upon her, and she was sorry now that +she had left the farm, for the thought that her son would suffer +destroyed her courage. + +She passed in her room the second day after her arrival in Paris; the +villain who had robbed her had told her that the count was absent for +two days, so she waited until the third day before trying to find him. +She flattered herself that she could recognize the house in front of +which the cab had stopped. The poor child thought that she could find +her way in that immense city, where she had never been before! she did +not know that the wretch who had deceived her had caused the cab to stop +in front of a house which was not the count's. + +The next day, she took her son in her arms, and, with the bundle that +contained her effects, left the lodging-house, whose mistress made no +attempt to keep her, because she had been paid for two days only. Sister +Anne commended herself to Providence, and tried to revive her courage as +she ventured forth into that city which was entirely unknown to her. +Every minute the horses and carriages frightened her, and the cries of +the street peddlers deafened her; the sight of all those people, going +and coming in every direction, and often jostling and crowding her, so +confused her that she had no idea where she was. The poor child went +under a porte cochère and began to cry. The concierge asked her what the +trouble was, but Sister Anne was unable to reply except with more tears; +whereupon the concierge turned away in a pet, saying: + +"What's the use of sympathizing with people who won't tell you what's +the matter!" + +After she had wept a long while, Sister Anne walked on; but she had been +on her feet four hours and had made no progress; she saw nothing but +endless streets, and shops; she had no idea in which direction she +should go, and often walked a long distance only to find herself at the +point she had started from. How was she to recognize that house of the +count's? she began to think that it was impossible. She was sinking with +fatigue, for she had had her child in her arms all the time; and soon +hunger made itself felt, and added to the horror of her plight. + +She sat down on a stone bench; the passers-by glanced at her, but went +on; they would have stopped if, instead of a woman weeping over a child, +they had seen a cat fighting with Polichinello. + +Luckily, it was midsummer; the weather was beautiful, and the approach +of night did not drive people indoors. The dumb girl entered a +pastry-cook's shop and bought cakes for her child, offering a garment +from her bundle in payment; but they gave it back, looking at her with +compassion and surprise; for her appearance did not denote poverty, and +they could not understand her having no money. + +She tried to walk on, but the darkness increased her terror tenfold, +and, despite the lamps in the streets, the clatter of the horses' feet +seemed to her more terrifying than ever; she was in mortal dread of +being run over with her son by the carriages which often surrounded her +on every side; so she sat down again on a bench. + +At this time she was on Rue Montmartre; several times during the day, +she had walked through Rue de Provence and had passed Monsieur de +Montreville's house; but the poor child did not know it. It was +impossible now for her to find her lodging-house, and she was on the +point of giving way to despair; but she pressed her son to her heart, +and tried to recover her strength by covering him with kisses. The child +smiled at her and played with her hair; he was at the age at which a +child does not know what unhappiness is when he is in his mother's arms. + +The night advanced; the shops were closing, the pedestrians becoming +less numerous, the carriages passed at longer intervals. Sister Anne +raised her eyes and looked about her with a little more confidence. +Where should she ask shelter for the night? She felt lost amid all those +buildings; she dared not apply anywhere. She gazed imploringly at those +who passed her, and several men stopped to look at her. + +"She's very pretty!" they said; but as soon as she held out her child, +they walked on. + +"Great God!" thought the unhappy girl; "don't the people of Paris love +children? they walk away very fast as soon as I show them mine." + +About midnight, a patrol passed through the street. As they drew near, +she shuddered; one of the soldiers went up to her, and said: + +"Come, come! what are you doing here with your child? Go home, or we'll +take you to the guard-house!" + +The man's harsh tone made her tremble; she rose hastily and hurried +away, with her child in her arms. But before she had gone a hundred +yards, she discovered that she had left her bundle of clothes on the +bench. She went back to look for it, and found the place where she had +been sitting; but, alas! her clothes had already disappeared. They were +the unfortunate creature's last resource. + +She shed no tears over this last catastrophe; an enormous weight seemed +to have settled on her chest. She moved away with her child, afraid to +think. She walked more rapidly, with no idea where she was going; she +embraced her son convulsively; a sort of nervous contraction stiffened +her limbs; she had almost lost consciousness of her sufferings. She +descended Rue Montmartre to the boulevard, where the trees caught her +eye, and her heart dilated. The poor child thought that she had reached +the outskirts of that city where fate pursued her so pitilessly; she +fancied that she was once more approaching her fields and her woods; and +running wildly to the nearest tree, she stood close against it, touched +it with rapture, and the tears came at last. + +She sat down beneath the foliage, the sight of which had given her fresh +courage; she covered her child with her apron and determined to wait +there for the dawn. + +The day came at last, but the dumb girl had not enjoyed one moment's +rest; she thought of the future, and saw that she must needs appeal to +public charity for herself and her son. If she had been alone, she would +have preferred death; but for him she could endure everything. She had +been so comfortable at the farm, surrounded by people who were attached +to her and who loved her son, and now she was reduced to beg for bread! +How bitterly she repented having left that peaceful abode! When she +looked at her son, she reproached herself even more severely. + +"Poor little fellow!" she thought; "all your sufferings will be caused +by me. But am I so guilty, after all, for longing to give you a father? +Ah, me! if only I could find my way back there! if only I could return +to those kind-hearted peasants who treated me like their own daughter! I +feel that I must abandon all hope of finding Frédéric; but if my grief +kills me, what will become of my son in this great city?" + +The poor mother wept as she gazed at little Frédéric, who was still +asleep. Some peasants on their way to market offered her bread and +fruit; a milkwoman gave her and the child some milk to drink; all hearts +are not insensible to pity, and even the Parisians give freely to the +poor; if they do not do it more frequently, it is only because they +dread to make themselves melancholy by the contemplation of misfortune. + +During a large part of the day, Sister Anne continued to wander about +the city in search of her protector's abode; she met many men who had +Frédéric's figure and were dressed like him; she quickened her pace to +overtake them; but when she was near enough to see their faces, +recognized her error. Some looked at her in amazement, others with a +sneer; whereupon she would turn away, shamefaced and broken-hearted. + +"O God!" she thought; "I shall never meet him again!" + +By the end of the day, the food that had been given her in the morning +was exhausted, and it became necessary to hold out her hand to the +passers-by, in quest of charity. In order to obtain courage to beg for +bread, Sister Anne had to gaze upon her boy. If those who give alms +always did so with a gracious manner, the unfortunate would be less to +be pitied; but many persons accompany their charity with a harsh or +disdainful air; in fact, they almost grumble at those they relieve. + +"Alas!" thought the poor girl, as she wept; "why do they consider it a +crime that I am poor?" + +She longed to leave Paris, for the country people seemed to her to be +more humane and gentle; with them, she felt less abashed. But in what +direction must she go to return to the hospitable farm? She could only +trust in Providence, which had not thus far been very propitious to her. +Poor child! may it guide thee at last to the end of thy woes! + +Having no idea what road she should take, but absolutely determined to +leave the city, she decided to follow a man who was walking beside a +small canvas-covered wagon. As it happened, this man went through one of +the faubourgs, and in due time passed the barrier. Thus, by dint of +following the wagon, which went always at a walk, the young mother found +herself at last in the country; she breathed more freely; she kissed her +son, and, beseeching the mercy of heaven for him, bent her steps toward +the nearest village to ask hospitality. + + + + +XXVIII + +CHANCE BRINGS THEM TOGETHER + + +Frédéric still loved his wife--perhaps with a less violent passion than +during the first month of their union; but the husband's facility of +intercourse with his wife had not diminished his love, for he discovered +new qualities, new virtues, in Constance every day. Beauty of feature +fascinates, but does not suffice to enslave; happy the husband who finds +in his wife attractions over which time has no power! + +Constance was chargeable with but one fault--a very lamentable one when +one cannot control it, but which she confined sedulously within her own +breast. She was jealous; the very excess of her love for Frédéric +sometimes caused her a secret alarm. When he seemed dreamy and pensive, +Constance became uneasy, and a multitude of apprehensions crowded into +her mind. What could it be that engrossed her husband's thoughts, +saddened him, and made him sigh?--for he still sighed sometimes. Before +their marriage, she attributed to his love for her the melancholy that +often darkened his brow. But now that they were united, now that they +could give a free rein to their affection, and there was nothing to mar +their happiness, why did Frédéric continue to sigh? why was he sometimes +preoccupied? That was what Constance asked herself, but the amiable girl +was careful not to let her husband see what she felt; she would have +been terribly distressed to display the slightest suspicion. Although +jealous, she would not annoy her husband; she would continue to be as +loving and sweet as always; and if she suffered, she would carefully +conceal her suffering, in order not to distress him whom she loved +better than her life. + +After a year, their happiness was interrupted for a moment by the +general's death. Monsieur de Valmont was beloved by all who knew him; he +was very dear to his niece, to whom he had been as an affectionate and +indulgent father. Her husband's love alone could comfort Constance in +her profound grief for her uncle's death. Monsieur de Montreville +mingled his regrets with her tears; he had lost a true friend; but in +old age we often show more courage than in the springtime of life, in +bearing the death of those who are dear to us. Is it because age makes +us selfish? Is it because the heart, having become insensible to the +flames of love, closes its doors to the transports of friendship; or is +it rather because of the reflection that the separation cannot be for +long, and that we shall soon join those whom we have lost? + +Constance was her uncle's sole heir; the general was very rich, and +owned a number of farms and estates in the provinces, with which +Frédéric wished to make himself familiar. So he had formed a plan of +visiting their new possessions, and Constance was to remain at Paris, in +order not to leave Monsieur de Montreville alone with his grief for the +loss of his friend. But how could he make up his mind to leave his wife +before her grief had begun to subside? As the visit of inspection was +not urgent, Frédéric postponed it from month to month; and Constance, +who had not as yet been separated from her husband for a single day, +could not decide to let him go. + +Some time after the general's death, Frédéric learned that Monsieur +Ménard, being frequently incapacitated by the gout, had lost all his +pupils and was in very reduced circumstances. So he went to see his +former tutor, and asked him to come to live with him. + +"I need a prudent, clever man," he said, "to take charge of my affairs, +overlook my stewards' accounts, and correspond with them. Be that man, +my dear Ménard. Remember that it is not as an employé, but as a friend +that I ask you to come; and if heaven sends me children, you shall be to +them what you were to their father." + +Ménard accepted gratefully, and he was installed under Frédéric's roof, +where Constance treated him with much consideration and affection; she +loved the former tutor, because he was attached to her husband, and +Ménard, deeply touched by the young woman's attentions, often exclaimed, +as he kissed her hand respectfully: + +"Ah! madame, do have children! I will be their tutor, and they'll grow +up like their excellent father, who was my pupil and who does me +credit." + +Constance smiled at that; doubtless she would have asked nothing better, +but we do not always obtain what we desire. + +Dubourg had not abandoned his friend. + +"Come and see me whenever you please," Frédéric had said to him; "your +room will always be ready for you." + +Dubourg made the most of that permission, not to quarter himself on +Frédéric in Paris, but to visit him at his country house. He was +particularly apt to appear during the latter half of the quarter; for +his income was paid quarterly, and he could never succeed in making it +last more than six weeks; then he would take his meals at Frédéric's, if +he was in Paris, or would visit him in the country. + +"Thanks to you, my friend," he would say, "with my sixteen hundred +francs a year, I live as if I had twice that; I spend my income in six +months, and you pay my expenses the other half of the year." + +Dubourg's merry humor pleased Constance, and Frédéric was always glad to +see his friend, for he knew that he would never say a word to his wife +that she ought not to hear, and that, despite his easy principles, he +would look upon her as a sister. We can overlook some faults in the man +who respects friendship. There are so many sincere, virtuous, +high-minded friends, who take delight in sowing discord in families! + +When Dubourg and Ménard met at Frédéric's board, which always happened +toward the end of the quarter, the former tutor never failed to sing the +praises of the couple who lived under his eyes. + +"They are like Orpheus and Eurydice, Deucalion and Pyrrha, Philemon and +Baucis, Pyramus and Thisbe!" + +"Morbleu! yes," Dubourg would reply; "Frédéric has a charming wife, who +has every estimable quality--a perfect treasure, in short. It would be +infernally strange if he were not content." + +"True enough! But if I had not inculcated in my pupil excellent +principles of virtue and morality, perhaps he wouldn't lead so decorous +a life as he does, although loving his wife none the less. Peter the +Great adored Catherine, but that didn't interfere with his having +mistresses; many princes have had concubines; and I have known some +excellent husbands who slept with their maid-servants, probably from a +sense of ownership." + +"Don't extol Frédéric's virtue so highly, my dear Monsieur Ménard! if he +had had nobody but you to guide him----" + +"Perhaps you would have done it better; for instance, when you travelled +with us as Baron Potoski----" + +"Hush, hush, Monsieur Ménard! Let that journey be forgotten; there was +nothing to choose between us. I trust that you have never spoken of that +little adventure in the woods--that love affair of Frédéric's--before +Madame de Montreville?" + +"Oh! what do you take me for? I am well aware that it would be a great +mistake now: _non est hic locus_; and yet, Madame de Montreville could +not take offence; anything that happened before her marriage doesn't +concern her; she has too much good sense not to laugh at her husband's +little escapades as a bachelor." + +"Despite her good sense, there are some things a woman never likes to +hear about; we should always avoid saying anything to make her think +that another has possessed her husband's heart. Although when she +marries a young man, a woman is well aware that he has already known +love, she persuades herself that he has never loved anyone as dearly as +he loves her; she desires to be the one who has inspired the most ardent +passion, and it is a great affliction to her to lose that illusion." + +"I understand; it's like telling a cook that one has never eaten a +better dish of macaroni." + +"Precisely. You're an amazing fellow for similes. Besides, I believe +that the young woman is capable of being jealous, she loves her husband +so passionately!" + +"Indeed, I believe you are right. I noticed one day that she didn't seem +in such good spirits as usual; I suppose that it was because her +husband had amused himself for some time patting a cat." + +"The devil take you and your cats! the idea of suspecting Constance of +such folly!" + +"Folly? Why, there are men who prefer their dog to their wives, just as +there are women who prefer their canary to their husband. I don't refer +to my pupil; but----" + +"But has Madame de Montreville ever asked you, as she has me, whether +Frédéric has always been subject to fits of depression, of melancholy?" + +"Yes, yes; I remember that only the other evening she said to me in an +undertone: 'See how Frédéric sighs! Do you know whether anything is +troubling him? Can you guess the reason?'" + +"Well! what was your answer?" + +"Parbleu! I answered: 'I suppose it's because he has indigestion, +madame; that interferes with the breathing; it is often the +case.'--Since then, she hasn't asked me any questions on that subject." + +"I can well believe it!" + +Although Frédéric was happy, he had not forgotten the dumb girl of the +woods, and it was the thought of her that caused his frequent fits of +abstraction. He longed to know Sister Anne's fate, but he dared not +mention her to his father. The count had told him that he would take +care of her, and Frédéric knew that he could rely on his promise; but to +have no idea where she was or what she was doing--not even to know +whether she still loved him!--The ingrate dared to doubt it, for he had +done all that he could to kill her love! Meanwhile, as his love for +Constance became more calm and placid, the memory of Sister Anne +obtruded itself more frequently upon his mind; a smile or a caress from +his wife quickly made him forget the dumb girl, but a little later her +image returned again; it would seem that the heart of man always craves +memories or hopes. + +For more than two years, Frédéric had been Constance's husband. Their +only sorrow was their failure to have children. Frédéric longed for a +son, Constance would have been overjoyed to present her husband with a +pledge of her affection, and Monsieur Ménard ardently desired the +arrival of some little pupils. + +The Comte de Montreville did not live with his children; but he came +often to their house; he still had in his service the man who was with +him when he was attacked in the forest, and whom he had forbidden to +mention that adventure. But one evening, when he was talking with the +other servants, he forgot his master's injunction; and as the others +told stories about robbers, he did not fail to tell of the risk he had +run in company with monsieur le comte, who had been saved, almost +miraculously, by a young dumb woman. Frédéric's valet was present; and +the next day, while dressing his master, he asked him if what Dumont had +said was true; because he believed that Dumont was a liar, and that +monsieur le comte had never mentioned being attacked by robbers and +saved by a dumb woman. + +These last words attracted Frédéric's attention; a secret presentiment +told him that Sister Anne was concerned in the adventure. He made no +reply to his servant, but hastened to his father's house. The count was +absent, but Dumont was there; Frédéric was able to speak to him alone, +which was just what he desired. At his first question, Dumont blushed, +remembering his master's orders; but it was too late for him to keep +silent. Moreover, it did not seem to him that he was committing any +great sin in telling his master's son the whole story, and he could not +understand why Monsieur de Montreville wished to make a mystery of the +adventure. + +Frédéric made him describe the girl his father had taken to the farm; +from the beginning, he had no doubt that it was Sister Anne. He asked +Dumont innumerable questions, and the valet told him all that he knew. + +"Do you think that she remained at the farm?" Frédéric asked. + +"Oh! yes, monsieur; she wasn't well enough to continue her journey; and +then, I forgot to tell you that she was on the point of becoming a +mother." + +"What do you say, Dumont?--that girl----" + +"Girl or wife, I don't know which; but I can swear she was enceinte." + +Sister Anne had a child! Frédéric understood now why his father had +acted with so much mystery. He inquired particularly as to the name of +the village and the location of the farm at which they had left the dumb +girl; then, giving Dumont a handsome present, he enjoined upon him +absolute secrecy concerning their interview. Dumont promised not to +mention the subject again, and lost himself in conjectures touching the +conduct of father and son alike. + +After Frédéric had learned that Sister Anne had made him a father, he +did not enjoy a moment's repose. The thought haunted him incessantly, +and he was consumed by the desire to see his child. His reveries were +more frequent, his brow was clouded more often than ever before, and +Constance heard him sigh. She dared not question him; but she suffered +torments in secret; she flattered herself that she filled Frédéric's +heart, that she was the sole object of all his thoughts; but she was +always near him, she held his hand in hers, and it could not be she who +made him sigh. + +When she ventured to ask him what the matter was, he strove to recover +himself, pressed her to his heart, and said: + +"What more can I possibly desire?" + +But, even then, Constance detected a trace of sadness in his smile; he +did not seem to her entirely happy. + +One day Frédéric told his wife that he was about to undertake the +journey which he had postponed so long, but which had become absolutely +necessary. Constance had flattered herself that Ménard would go in his +stead; indeed, Frédéric himself had suggested it; but he had changed his +mind, and was evidently determined to go. Constance dared not try to +detain him, or to propose to accompany him; she was afraid of annoying +him; she was unwilling to thwart him in the most trivial thing. +Moreover, if Frédéric had wanted her to go with him, he would have had +but to say the word; she would have left everything to go; but he did +not say the word! Constance groaned in secret, but she showed her +husband a cloudless brow and a smiling face. + +Frédéric embraced her tenderly; he promised to hasten his return, and to +be with her again within a month. She tried to be brave; and Frédéric +took his departure, commending her to the care of Ménard and Dubourg. +But Constance did not need to be entertained: although absent, Frédéric +was always with her. + +It was the month of August, that lovely season when it is so pleasant to +live in the pure air of the country. Constance determined to pass at her +country house near Montmorency all the time that her husband was +absent. As it was much quieter there than in Paris, it seemed to her +that she would be more free to think of him, to count the moments which +must pass before his return. Monsieur de Montreville visited his +daughter-in-law in the country. But at the count's age a man has settled +habits, and amusement becomes a necessity. The count loved Paris, for he +had a great number of acquaintances there; and the never-ceasing life +and animation of the capital had always attracted him. After a week's +stay in the country, he returned to his favorite city and his wonted +amusements. + +Constance was left alone with Ménard and the servants. It was still +early in the quarter, and Dubourg was not in the country; but Constance +did not suffer one moment from ennui; when the heart is well occupied, +the head is never empty. The old tutor was always ready to bear her +company; he talked to her of Greek and Roman history, quoted his +favorite Latin authors, and sometimes plunged into Biblical history. It +is not certain that Constance was greatly entertained; but when Ménard +had finished speaking, she would smile at him so amiably that he was +invariably satisfied. + +Toward nightfall Constance always went to the summer-house. It was her +favorite spot; there she and Frédéric had begun to understand each +other, there she had felt the first approach of love. Since that time, +she had often visited the summer-house, more often than ever now that +she was awaiting her husband's return. From that eminence she could +overlook the whole valley and the country round about the walls of her +garden. + +One fine evening, as she happened to glance at the road which passed the +house, Constance noticed a young woman seated at the foot of a tree, +with an infant in her arms; the unfortunate creature was evidently in +the last stages of destitution; she was gazing mournfully at her child, +and, while covering him with kisses, seemed to be utterly hopeless and +desperate. + +Constance was deeply affected. At that moment, Monsieur Ménard joined +her on the platform. + +"Look!" she said; "do you see that poor woman? See how frantically she +kisses her child! She seems in terrible distress. Do you see her?" + +"One moment, madame," said Ménard; "I can't find my spectacles.--Where +in the devil have I put them?" + +At that instant the poor woman raised her eyes, and, when she saw +Constance, her glance became so expressive, so full of entreaty, that it +was impossible not to understand her. + +"Oh! she is crying," exclaimed Constance; "wait, wait, my poor woman! I +will come down." + +She rushed out of the summer-house, while Ménard was still looking for +his spectacles. + +Not far away was a small gate by which the road was reached. Constance +opened it, and soon stood beside the unfortunate creature she longed to +assist. As she drew near to her, she was even more touched, for the +wayfarer's every feature was eloquent of suffering and despair; but it +was for her child, above all, that she implored Constance's pity. She +held him out to her, and great tears flowed from her drawn and reddened +eyes. + +"Poor child!" said Constance; "how pale and thin he is! but what lovely +features!"--And she took the child in her arms, saying to the mother: +"Come, and I will give you something to restore your strength. Follow +me." + +The woman walked a few steps, but soon fell to the ground; her strength +had failed her. + +"Great heaven!" said Constance; "what a state the poor creature is +in!--Monsieur Ménard, do come and help me take her to the house." + +"Here I am, here I am, madame! They were in my waistcoat pocket," said +Ménard. "Oho! this young person seems sadly in need of help." + +"Support her--let us help her to walk. Poor woman! how she distresses +me! Mon Dieu! is it possible that there can be people so unfortunate?" + +"Very possible, certainly, madame; but it is important to know the +_causa causarum_." + +With the assistance of Ménard and Constance, the latter of whom carried +the child as well as supported the mother, the poor woman succeeded in +reaching the house. There Constance at once gave her whatever she +thought would do her and the child good; and while the mother recovered +her strength, she observed her with interest. + +"Just see," she said to Ménard, "she is still a mere girl--and already +so greatly to be pitied! Her features are sweet and pathetic. Poor +mother! where have you come from? what do you mean to do?" + +The unfortunate creature did not reply to these questions; the reader +will have divined the cause: it was Sister Anne and her son to whom +Constance had brought succor. + +Ten days had passed since the dumb girl left Paris, during which she had +wandered about the country, guided by chance alone. Being forced +constantly to beg for shelter and food, often repulsed, often depriving +herself of sustenance to give it to her son, she had felt her strength +and her courage grow less day by day; despair took possession of her +mind, it sapped all her faculties, and the unhappy mother was embracing +her child in momentary expectation of death, when chance, which had led +her to Madame de Montreville's house, decreed that she should notice her +and fly to her assistance. + +Surprised at receiving no reply to her questions, Constance repeated +them; whereupon Sister Anne, putting her hand to her lips and mournfully +shaking her head, succeeded in making her understand her pitiful +condition. + +"O heaven! she cannot speak! Poor soul! All alone with her child, and +without money, without a guide, and unable to ask her way! Oh! this is +too much, too many trials at once!" + +And Constance stooped over Sister Anne, weeping freely at the sight of +her misery, while the dumb girl, touched by a compassion to which she +had become unaccustomed, took her benefactress's hand, covered it with +kisses, and pressed it to her heart. + +"Faith!" said Ménard, drawing his handkerchief,--for the kind-hearted +tutor could not witness this scene without emotion,--"faith! I agree +that she was in a critical position. Indeed, speech is essential +throughout life; and anyone who has no tongue, or can't use it, is like +a fox without a tail, a butterfly without wings, or a fish without +fins." + +Constance continued to devote her whole attention to Sister Anne and her +son; already the child was laughing in her arms; he was at the happy age +when grief vanishes at sight of a cake or a toy. It seemed that +Constance could not tire of caressing him. + +"See," she said to Ménard, "see how he smiles at me!" + +"Of course, for you are giving him bonbons. Men are caught by sugared +words, and children by sugar without words; wherein they show more +sagacity than men." + +"What pretty features, what lovely eyes! It may be a delusion, but it +seems to me that he has my husband's eyes." + +"My pupil's? I can hardly conceive eyes of two years resembling eyes of +twenty-three." + +"Poor little dear! I feel that I love him already. How happy I should be +to have a child like him!" + +"That will come, madame: Sarah was ninety years old when she gave birth +to Isaac. You have plenty of time before you." + +Sister Anne's heart throbbed with joy when she saw Constance caress her +son. Madame de Montreville did not tire of gazing at him, for she +detected in his features some resemblance to those of her husband. +Ménard gazed compassionately at Sister Anne; he was very far from +suspecting that that poor mendicant was the young girl he had seen +seated beside Frédéric in the woods at Vizille. How could he have +recognized her! He had seen her only a moment, and then she was radiant +with happiness and love; her lovely features were not worn by tears and +sorrow; the fatigue of a long and toilsome journey, and of incessant +suffering, had not made her body weak and her steps tottering. And, +lastly, Ménard did not know that that girl was dumb; so that it was +impossible for him to suspect that she was before him at that moment. + +"Do you know how to write, poor woman?" Constance asked her. + +She shook her head. + +"What a pity! I would like to know this pretty boy's name." + +The dumb girl looked eagerly about. They had taken her to a room on the +ground floor, looking on the garden. She went out, motioning to +Constance to follow her. She broke a branch from the first shrub she +came to; then, stooping over, she traced on the gravel path her son's +name. + +"Frédéric!" cried Constance, after reading the name; "what! your child's +name is Frédéric? Ah! that will make him all the dearer to me. Frédéric! +why, that is my husband's name.--What do you think of this, Monsieur +Ménard? isn't it strange?" + +"I don't see anything so extraordinary in it," said the tutor. "As there +are great numbers of Martins, Pierres, and Pauls, there may very well be +as many Frédérics. I know of no name but _Thesaurochrysonicochrysides_, +which Plautus invented, that has never become common. So, if I had had a +son, I should have insisted on giving him that name, although it isn't +very easy to say." + +Constance took the child in her arms again. She called him Frédéric; and +he, answering to that name, by which he had been called at the farm, +lisped the word _mamma_, and looked about as if in search of the good +peasants who used to call him so. + +"I am determined that my husband shall see this dear child," said +Constance; then, after a moment's reflection, she went up to Sister +Anne, took her hand, and said, following her signs closely so that she +might understand her answers: + +"Where were you going with your child?--She doesn't know.--Unfortunate +creature! have you no father or mother?--Ah! they are dead!--And your +child's father, your husband--why isn't he with you?--She weeps! Poor +dear! He has deserted her! The idea of deserting such a pretty child! +and such a sweet, unfortunate mother! Why, it's perfectly ghastly! he +must have a terribly hard heart.--But cheer up, and dry your tears; I +will not abandon you! No, my mind is made up; I will take care of you +and your child. You shall not leave me. You shall live with me; I will +give you needlework to do; I will teach you to work, and I will have +your child educated under your eyes. My husband is kind, tender-hearted, +and generous; I am perfectly certain that he won't blame me for what I +am doing. He will love you, too, and you shall end your days with us. Do +you understand, poor dear? Don't cry any more, don't worry about your +child. Hereafter you shall be out of reach of want.--Why, look, Monsieur +Ménard! she actually throws herself at my feet and kisses my hand, as if +I were a god! What would be the use of wealth, if we could not do a +little good with it?" + +"To be charitable, madame, is one of the precepts of the Gospel; +unfortunately, everybody doesn't put it in practice as you do!" + +"But it's high time to think about arranging a room for this young +woman," said Constance, leading Sister Anne back to the house. "After +all the fatigue she has undergone, she must feel the need of rest. Where +shall we put her? Oh! I know; in that little building adjoining the +greenhouse in the garden. My husband intended to make a study of it; but +he can work in his own room. Yes, that is what we'll do. Be kind enough +to give orders accordingly, Monsieur Ménard. Have a bed taken there, and +everything she needs for the night; to-morrow, I will have it properly +arranged. She will be quiet there, and she will have her son with her +and can take him to walk in the garden in the morning." + +Ménard went to tell the servants to prepare a room in the pavilion in +the garden. Meanwhile, Constance remained with Sister Anne, who was +unable to express her boundless gratitude; her features were beginning +already to lose their haggard, hopeless look. As she looked at her, +Constance found her face more and more interesting; the dumb girl in no +respect resembled those beggars who seem determined to extort alms by +lamentations and importunities, and who receive it without gratitude. +Sister Anne was meek and shrinking; she was amazed at the interest she +inspired; her gratitude could be read in her eyes; and in her whole +bearing, her whole aspect, there was something which seemed to indicate +that she was not born in the lowest rank of society. + +"The more I look at her," thought Constance, "the more surprised I am +that anyone could have deserted her. Her features are refined, her eyes +sweet and full of charm. How lovely she will be in other clothes!--And +you, dear love, ah! I will take good care of you!" + +Ménard announced that everything was ready in the pavilion for the +reception of the poor woman and her son. Constance took Sister Anne's +arm and led her thither, made sure that she had everything that she +needed for the night, and left her, urging her not to grieve any more, +but to go to bed and sleep. + +Sister Anne pressed her hand to her heart, and Constance said to Ménard +as they walked away: + +"Now the time won't seem so long while Frédéric is away! I realize that +the best way to divert one's thoughts from one's own troubles is to +relieve those of other people." + + + + +XXIX + +ARRIVAL OF DUBOURG.--THE STORM GATHERS + + +On waking the next morning, Sister Anne feared for a moment that all +that she saw was an illusion of her eyesight. After suffering the most +horrible tortures of destitution; after wandering so long, often unable +to obtain a place to lay her head and her son's; after going through all +that a mother can go through who trembles every moment for her child's +life--to find herself in a handsome and comfortable apartment, lying in +a soft bed, and with her mind at rest concerning her future; instead of +the cold contempt of pity, to receive the loving attentions of a +noble-hearted woman, who added tenfold to the value of her kind acts by +the grace with which she did them--was to pass abruptly into a situation +so entirely different, that her softened heart feared to give way to the +enjoyment of a happiness in which it could not as yet believe. + +Sister Anne embraced little Frédéric; then rose and took him into the +garden, which surrounded on all sides the building in which she was +lodged. What a lovely spot! what bliss to live there, and guide her +child's first hesitating steps! He tried to run about alone among the +paths bordered by roses and lilacs; when he fell, the soft gravel +deadened his fall, and the child waited, smiling, for his mother to come +and help him to start afresh. + +Constance was awake very early; she had thought all night of the dumb +girl and her son; her determination to be their benefactress made it +impossible for her to sleep; for pleasure has its insomnia, and women +display in all their decisions more ardor and more sentiment than men. +If they sometimes seem to be unduly engrossed by a piece of jewelry or +some other trivial object, with what energy and what heartfelt sympathy +do they perform a good deed! + +Madame de Montreville hurried down into the garden to see her protégée. +She found Sister Anne and the child under an arbor of honeysuckle. The +boy was playing by his mother, who, when she saw Constance, flew to meet +her, and seized one of her hands, which she held for a long time to her +heart. + +"Up so early!" said Constance, as she kissed little Frédéric; "how did +you pass the night? Well? I am glad. After so much trouble and fatigue, +you needed a long rest. The dear boy! see how he smiles at me; one would +think that he recognizes me already. But you must not continue to wear +those clothes; come with me and I will give you one of my dresses. It +will fit you, for we're very nearly of the same size. Oh! I won't allow +you to refuse; remember that you must obey me, or I shall be angry." + +Constance took Sister Anne and little Frédéric to her own room, where +she selected one of her simplest gowns and compelled her protégée to put +it on. In that new costume the dumb girl seemed to acquire new charms, +and her timidity and embarrassment were entirely free from the +awkwardness which characterizes so many people in clothes that were not +made for them. + +"She is charming," said Constance, when she had summoned her maid and +had caused her to arrange the young woman's hair, quite simply, but with +excellent taste. "How lovely she is so! And in a few days, when she has +entirely recovered from her fatigue, when her cheeks have a little +color, she'll be lovelier still.--Come, come and look at yourself, and +don't lower your eyes. Is it anything to be ashamed of that one is +pretty?" + +Constance led Sister Anne in front of a mirror. The dumb girl looked at +her own image, hesitatingly at first; but she soon recovered her +self-possession to some extent, and her face flushed with modest +pleasure. Is it possible for a woman to be insensible to anything that +beautifies her? Sister Anne, after looking at herself for several +minutes, fell at Madame de Montreville's knees. + +"Oh! I don't want you to do this any more," said Constance, raising her; +"I want you to love me and to be happy, that's all. As for your son, I +propose to make him handsome, too, and I will send to Paris for whatever +is necessary." + +Monsieur Ménard, whose sleep had not been interfered with by thoughts of +the wayfarer, came down at last, and was thunderstruck when he saw +Sister Anne in such different guise. + +"Well, Monsieur Ménard, what do you think of her?" + +"Faith! madame, she is so much improved that I should not recognize +her." + +"Because in her other clothes you saw nothing but her misery, and +overlooked the refinement of her features." + +"It is an undeniable fact that misery is a great disfigurement. Indeed, +a handsome setting adds to the charm of everything. We cannot dine so +satisfactorily when the cloth is soiled, and the commonest wine tastes +much better in a dainty glass." + +Constance was busy all day with her plans for Sister Anne. The room on +the first floor of the pavilion was arranged, and supplied with +everything that could make it more attractive. By Madame de +Montreville's orders a pretty cradle was procured, and placed beside the +young mother's bed. The windows were embellished with flowers in boxes. + +"She is debarred from other enjoyments," said Constance; "books and +music are useless to her; as yet, the poor child doesn't know how to do +anything, so we must surround her with things that are pleasing to the +eye." + +Sister Anne was at a loss to express her gratitude for such overwhelming +kindness. Constance was much amused by the astonishment which each new +thing caused her. Above all, when she heard for the first time the notes +of a piano, blended with Constance's sweet voice, was she conscious of a +fascination, an intoxicating pleasure, which moved her to tears. The +charm of music was keenly appreciated by that ardent soul, which knew +not the art of concealing its sensations. + +As she watched Constance sew and embroider, Sister Anne sighed and +revealed her grief at her inability to do as much. But Constance +undertook to teach her; and the dumb girl was so anxious to make herself +useful, that in a very short time she did all that she saw others do. + +A week had passed since Constance had taken Sister Anne and the child +into her family, and every hour seemed to increase her affection for +them. The child very soon learned to love her, for she lavished caresses +upon him; and Sister Anne, always gentle, attentive, and grateful, +proved to her that her benefactions were well bestowed. + +One morning, while the dumb girl was walking with her son in the garden, +Dubourg appeared at his friend's house; the quarter was more than half +gone, and Constance, who knew something of Dubourg's habits from her +husband, was not at all surprised at his arrival. + +"Welcome!" she said; "you promised my husband that you would come to see +me while he was away, and I was beginning to be offended with you." + +"Madame," said Dubourg, with a smile, "I am not one of those friends who +undertake to make a wife forget her husband; but if I have it in my +power to entertain you, I am entirely at your service until next +quarter-day; or the whole year, if I can be of any use to you." + +"Oh! you will find a change here; I have someone with me. I have made a +new acquaintance since Frédéric went away." + +"Indeed! I am sure that it is an acquaintance which will be agreeable to +your husband too." + +"Why, I hope so." + +"My dear Dubourg," said Ménard, "madame does not tell you that she has +taken into her family an unfortunate woman and her son; she doesn't +boast of her good deeds." + +"Hush, Monsieur Ménard! as if that young woman did not deserve all that +I have done for her! Could I have placed my benefactions more wisely?" + +"I agree that she has learned to work beautifully; I expect very soon to +teach her to read." + +"You will see, Monsieur Dubourg, how pretty and how interesting she is. +And then, her child, a boy of two, is a charming little fellow." + +"Ah! she has a son, has she?" + +"Yes; and I am sure that you will agree with me that he looks like---- +But I want you to see for yourself; I will go and find her." + +Constance was already in the garden. + +"The dear soul!" said Dubourg; "what a happy mortal Frédéric ought to +be! And yet, here he is travelling already!" + +"Business before everything, my dear Dubourg.--A pinch of snuff, if you +please. My pupil has come into extensive estates, through his wife, and +a man ought to be familiar with his estates." + +"But why not take his wife with him? Don't you think that she would have +been very glad to go along?" + +"I don't say she wouldn't, but---- What a fellow you are! always harping +on the same subject!" + +"Hum! I trust that this journey doesn't conceal some scheme! I know that +Frédéric would be terribly sorry to cause his wife the slightest pain; +but I know also that such sentimental fellows as he take fire when they +hear a woman sigh!" + +"I tell you that my pupil is visiting his estates, deuce take it!--What +about dominoes? are you beginning to be strong at it?" + +"Much stronger than you, who can never guess where the double-six is. +But let us join Madame de Montreville; I am curious to see this woman +she has taken under her wing." + +"She's a woman whom you will find it hard not to agree with, for there +can't be a quarrel without a dispute; now, when there's no dispute, +there can't be a quarrel; and there can't be a dispute in this case, +because----" + +But Dubourg was not listening; he was already in the garden, where he +saw Madame de Montreville in the distance, with a child in her arms, and +beside her a young woman dressed in a simple white gown. He walked +toward them; the young woman saw him and ran, yes, flew to his side, +seized his arm, and gazed at him in anxious suspense; while Dubourg +stood like one petrified, for he had recognized Sister Anne. + +"Mon Dieu! what has happened to her?" Constance asked Dubourg, who was +completely bewildered to find the dumb girl, in such a different +costume, walking with Constance, who was carrying her son in her arms. +"What an extraordinary effect your presence has produced on her! See how +she looks at you! She seems to be questioning you with those eloquent +eyes. Do you know this poor child?" + +"Why, no--that is, yes, yes, I saw her once; but she was so different +then; in this dress--and with this child--faith, I did not recognize +her!" + +Dubourg was confused and embarrassed; he did not know what he ought to +say, and Sister Anne still held his arm, while her eyes implored him to +speak. + +"What! you know her?" said Constance, in surprise; "but what does she +want of you now? can't you guess what it is that she seems to want to +know?" + +"Oh! I beg your pardon--I begin to understand. I knew this poor girl's +lover, and she is trying to ask me about him." + +"Well, answer her, then, at once; see! her eyes are full of tears." + +"Faith! I have nothing pleasant to tell her; her seducer has gone +abroad, and, in all probability, she will never see him again.--I don't +know what has become of him," he said to Sister Anne; "I have never seen +him since, any more than you. And so, my dear child, you must try to +forget him." + +Sister Anne, who had listened with the closest attention to every word +that fell from Dubourg's lips, dropped her head on her breast when he +had finished; then she went and sat down under a tree, and gave free +vent to her grief and her tears. + +"Poor woman!" said Constance; "alas! she still loves the man who +deserted her. Who could have abused her innocence so heartlessly?" + +"He was a young painter, madame; he was travelling at the time--for his +instruction. While in search of fine views, he fell in with Sister +Anne--for that is her name. She is, I believe, the child of peasants; +but I can't say so with certainty, for I do not know her family; +however, my friend saw her and fell in love with her. These painters +have flighty imaginations--and a child was the result. That's all that I +know; I never saw this girl but once, when I was riding with my friend." + +"In my eyes, he is very blameworthy. You men treat such affairs very +lightly. To seduce a woman, and then abandon her, is, in your eyes, a +mere youthful escapade, of which, indeed, you often boast!" + +"Oh! madame, I can flatter myself that I never seduced anybody." + +"I am speaking generally; but I am very certain that my Frédéric never +did as so many thoughtless, heedless young men do! He is too sensitive, +too loving, to try to deceive a young and inexperienced heart. See what +horrible results such reckless conduct may have! This poor child, +finding that she was enceinte, must have left her parents and fled from +her native place. Without money, and bereft of that organ which is so +necessary in the world, she travelled through city and country at +random, and exposed to all the horrors of want. The unhappy creature! +how she must have suffered! Oh! if you had seen her when I took her in, +she would have made your heart ache. But she has found a friend now; I +will not desert her, and, if I cannot make her altogether happy, she +will not, at all events, have to dread want while she is with me." + +Dubourg made no reply; the sight of Sister Anne gave him too much to +think about. + +"Your presence has renewed her grief by recalling her seducer," said +Constance; "go away for a moment, and I will try to comfort her, +although I am well aware that for such griefs there is no comfort. Could +I enjoy a moment's happiness if Frédéric should forget me? But she has +her son at least, and his caresses will allay her sorrow." + +Constance carried little Frédéric to his mother and placed him on her +knees, while Dubourg walked quickly back to the house and joined Ménard, +who did not know what to think when he saw his former travelling +companion's horrified expression. + +"All is lost, Monsieur Ménard!" cried Dubourg, halting in front of the +tutor. + +"What? what is lost? King Stanislas's berlin or the King of Prussia's +snuff-box? You know perfectly well that I am not to be taken in in that +way again." + +"Oh! let's hear no more of all that nonsense! This is a very serious +matter, involving the happiness and peace of mind of Frédéric and his +wife." + +"I'll bet that it's not true; you're going to tell me some new fairy +tale to lead me into a trap; but _non me ludit amabilis insania_." + +"Will you listen to me, Monsieur Ménard? Morbleu! how could a man of +your years fail to anticipate what has happened?" + +"What do you mean by that? a man of my years! I beg that you will +explain yourself, Monsieur Dubourg." + +"You allow Madame de Montreville to take into her house, to install +there----" + +"Whom, in heaven's name?" + +"Whom! morbleu! the girl for whom Frédéric made a fool of himself; the +girl who turned his head, and with whom he lived six weeks in the woods; +the girl whom he adored then, and whom, for all I know, he loves still; +for a man's heart is beyond comprehension! In short, Sister Anne, the +dumb girl of the woods, of Vizille, is the one whom Madame de +Montreville now has in her house!" + +"Mon Dieu! what do I hear?" + +"Do you mean to say you didn't recognize her?" + +"Recognize her! a girl I never saw but once, and then at a distance? I +don't scrutinize young women as you do, monsieur; and could I suspect, +did I know, that she was dumb? did anyone tell me so? No; no one tells +me anything, and then they expect me to know everything by divination! +You young men are inconceivable! do you suppose I should know Latin if I +had never learned it?" + +"Well! you know it now." + +"Parbleu! I was thrashed often enough to know it! Gad! how many stripes +I got for the _Epitome_, and how many _pensums_ for Phædrus's fables!" + +"Great heaven! Monsieur Ménard, I am talking about Sister Anne, who is +here in this house, with Frédéric's wife." + +"I understand, I understand perfectly." + +"When Frédéric returns, she will see him; her excitement, her tears, and +her caresses will betray the truth. Just think of Madame de +Montreville's feelings, when the husband whom she adores and believes to +be a model of fidelity finds in his house a mistress and a child--a +child, above all!" + +"Yes, yes; I realize all that." + +"Well, then, speak! what are we to do?" + +"I have no idea." + +"It is impossible to let Sister Anne live under the same roof as +Frédéric." + +"Of course; it's most embarrassing! But she was so wretched!" + +"Do you think that I mean to abandon her? I've only sixteen hundred +francs a year, but I would gladly sacrifice it all to prevent her +presence from disturbing the happiness of this young couple. Yes; I will +work for my living, if necessary, or I'll pass the whole of every +quarter with Frédéric; but that young woman and her child shall be +placed beyond the reach of want." + +"That is very noble, my dear Dubourg, and if I had any property--but I +have nothing save my old classics, which wouldn't be of any use to her, +because she can't read." + +"But how are we to set about inducing Sister Anne to leave this house?" + +"That would be a very hard task: Madame de Montreville is very fond of +her, and is wild over the child; she thinks that he looks like my +pupil--Frédéric. By the way, I can conceive a reason for that +resemblance now." + +"I don't know what to do; I can think of nothing. When does Frédéric +return?" + +"In a week; we have plenty of time." + +"Time! a week will soon be gone; and if he finds Sister Anne here!" + +"Why, it seems to me that we might tell the girl not to speak." + +"Of course she won't speak; but her gestures, the expression of her +face, will say enough." + +"Indeed! well, I give you my word that I often can't understand her at +all." + +Dubourg tortured his brain to find some method of sending away Sister +Anne and her son. Ménard sat with his eyes fixed on his snuff-box, and +pretended to be equally engrossed by that subject, but in reality his +thoughts were full of a pâté of hare which had arrived from Paris the +night before, and which they were to attack at dinner. + +Constance returned to the house with the dumb girl and the child; Sister +Anne's face still bore traces of suffering, but she was calmer and more +resigned; when she saw Dubourg, she smiled sadly at him, and presented +her son, at whom he gazed with interest, dismayed by the striking +resemblance between his features and his father's. + +"Don't you think he's a lovely boy?" said Constance. + +"Yes, madame," Dubourg replied, as he kissed the child; "he's very +pretty." + +"Does he look like his father?" + +"Very much." + +"And don't you think he has a look of my husband?" + +"Oh! not the slightest!" + +"That's strange; it impressed me at once. His name is Frédéric, too, the +dear child; I believe that I love him the more for that." + +As she spoke, Constance took the child in her arms; Sister Anne watched +her, deeply moved, and Dubourg turned his face away to conceal the +sensations aroused by that scene. + +During the rest of the day, Dubourg cudgelled his brain to think how he +could bring about Sister Anne's departure from Madame de Montreville's +house, but he could not decide upon any plan. How was he to remove her +from a luxurious home, where the most affectionate attentions were +lavished upon her, and where her son was overwhelmed with caresses? +Would not Sister Anne, far from consenting to such a plan, refuse to see +therein anything more than shocking ingratitude, of which her loving, +grateful heart was utterly incapable? To tell her that Constance's +husband was her seducer would not avail to induce her to go away, for +her intense longing to see Frédéric would prevail in her heart over +every other consideration. She conceived herself to be united to her +lover by the oaths they had exchanged; could she imagine that another +woman had rights, more sacred at least, if not more equitable, than her +own? + +Dubourg dared not risk that method, and he tormented himself in vain to +find another. At last he went to Ménard, and said to him: + +"Well, have you thought of any expedient to induce Sister Anne to leave +this house?" + +And Ménard, after taking a pinch of snuff and reflecting for five +minutes, led Dubourg into a corner and replied in an undertone: + +"I can't think of anything at all." + +While talking with Constance, Dubourg tried to persuade her to send the +dumb girl to live on one of her estates at some distance from Paris; but +Madame de Montreville scouted the suggestion with much earnestness. + +"Why," she said, "should I deprive myself of this young woman's company, +and of the presence of her son, whom I love as if he belonged to me? If +the unhappy creature were not under my eyes, would she receive all the +attentions that tend to alleviate her position? No; I shall never part +with her; every day I feel that I become more and more attached to her. +If you knew how grateful she is to me for everything I do for her! Ah! I +have read to the very bottom of her heart; I have not misplaced my +benefactions, and I am certain that Frédéric will not blame me." + +"Well," said Dubourg to himself, "I have done all I could; and even if I +should give myself the jaundice trying to separate these two women, I +fancy that I shouldn't succeed; I'll just let things take their course, +and see what happens. The most that I can do will be to warn Frédéric +when he comes home." + +On the evening after Dubourg's arrival, Constance said to him: + +"I want you to see what pleasure my unfortunate companion derives from +music; when she hears me play and sing, it always seems to me as if she +were going to speak." + +She took Sister Anne's hand and led her to a seat near the piano; the +dumb girl was more melancholy than usual; Dubourg's presence had revived +all her sorrows; however, she smiled at her benefactress, and did her +utmost to appear less downcast. + +Constance had played several pieces, when she said: + +"I believe I have never sung her that pretty little thing that my +husband likes so much." + +She played the prelude to the air. Dubourg paid little attention to the +music; he was still thinking of the strange chance that had brought +Sister Anne and Frédéric's wife together. Ménard was sitting in a corner +of the salon, doing all that he could to understand the music; and +little Frédéric was playing near his mother, who listened intently to +her benefactress. + +Constance had no sooner sung the first words of the ballad than Sister +Anne manifested an emotion which seemed to increase with every measure; +she leaned toward the singer, listening with all her ears, and hardly +breathing; her whole body shook, all her faculties were absorbed by an +overpowering memory; and before Constance had finished the first stanza, +a deadly pallor overspread the dumb girl's features; she uttered a +plaintive moan, and fainted. + +Intent upon her music as she was, Constance had not observed Sister +Anne's agitation; but when she heard her groan, she sprang to her feet +and flew to her side. + +"Great God!" she exclaimed; "what is the matter with her? She is +unconscious!" + +Dubourg hastened to her assistance, while Ménard ran to fetch salts and +call the servants. + +"Can you imagine what upset her? She was listening to me with evident +pleasure, and suddenly she fainted." + +"Madame," said Dubourg, attempting to take advantage of this incident, +"haven't you noticed that this young woman is not always in her right +mind; that there are moments when she seems--rather light-headed?" + +"Why, no; I have never noticed anything of the sort. Since she has been +here, she has always been very reasonable, and her depression seems +perfectly natural to me. Poor dear! she doesn't open her eyes." + +"Oh! this will amount to nothing; probably her emotion when she saw me +this morning is the cause of her swoon." + +"I am inclined to think so." + +Ménard returned, armed with a dozen bottles of salts. For a long while, +all their efforts were unavailing: Sister Anne did not recover +consciousness, and Constance was in despair; at last, a long-drawn sigh +announced that the sufferer was returning to life, and she soon opened +her eyes. Her first thought was for her son; he was too young to realize +his mother's danger, and had not interrupted his play. Sister Anne took +him in her arms and kissed him, then looked at all those who stood about +her, as if to thank them for their kindness. + +"Come with me, and go to bed," said Madame de Montreville; "all your +sorrow has been revived to-day, and you must forget it in sleep." + +But, instead of following her, Sister Anne took her hand, led her to the +piano, and motioned to her to sit down again. + +"No, to-morrow," said Constance; "the music excites you too much. I will +sing to you to-morrow." + +Sister Anne clasped her hands, and her glance was so expressive, it +besought her so earnestly to do what she desired, that Constance had not +the heart to refuse; she seated herself at the piano, while Ménard +observed _sotto voce_: + +"That young woman is passionately fond of music; it would be a good idea +to teach her to play." + +Constance began an air, but Sister Anne stopped her and shook her head +emphatically, as if to say: "Not that."--Thereupon she played another, +but still the dumb girl was not satisfied. At last, Constance remembered +that she was singing a ballad when she was interrupted; she sang it +again, and had no sooner begun it than Sister Anne's emotion and the +strained attention with which she listened showed plainly enough that +that was what she wanted to hear. + +"Just see how this ballad excites her!" said Constance; "it's the one +Frédéric always liked so much!" + +The words were hardly out of her mouth, when Sister Anne seized her +hand, pressed it with all her strength, and nodded her head. Madame de +Montreville did not understand her pantomime; she looked at Dubourg, who +said in an undertone: + +"I assure you that there are times when she doesn't know what she is +doing. She thinks that she sees her lover everywhere; love has turned +her brain." + +Sister Anne's agitation partially subsided; the tears forced their way +to the surface and relieved the strain. Constance gazed at her with +emotion, repeating again and again: + +"Poor child! what a guilty wretch he was to desert you!" + +For several minutes everybody was silent. Constance resorted to her +usual method of allaying the young mother's suffering: she took little +Frédéric in her arms and carried him to her. She looked up gratefully at +her benefactress, and, having covered her son with kisses, rose and +prepared to go to her room. + +Constance insisted on accompanying her to the pavilion; there she left +her, after urging her anew to be brave. + +"Your troubles will come to an end before long, I hope," she said. "Yes, +your seducer will certainly return to sentiments more worthy of the man +you love; he cannot have forgotten you entirely. Dubourg may not be +accurately informed. Dry your tears; some day you will see him again; +and how can he ever leave you after you put this darling boy in his +arms?" + +These comforting words went to Sister Anne's heart; she welcomed the +soothing hope that Constance held out to her, and parted from her +somewhat less unhappy. Madame de Montreville returned slowly to her +apartment; the sight of the suffering of the woman she had saved from +want made her sad; Frédéric was not there to divert her thoughts and +make her forget everything but her own happiness; she had never been +separated from him for so long a time, and his absence tended to +increase her melancholy. + +Ménard had retired, after saying to Dubourg: + +"This has been rather a tempestuous day." + +"Ah!" was the reply; "I apprehend a much more violent storm! If that +young woman fainted simply because she heard the ballad that Frédéric +used to sing to her, what will happen to her when she sees him again, +and when she learns that he is another woman's husband? I tell you, +Monsieur Ménard, I can't think of anything else!" + +"I can well believe it; it has taken away my appetite!" + +"Let us try to ward off that catastrophe." + +"Let us ward it off; I ask nothing better." + +"Remember that the repose, the happiness, yes, even the honor, of your +pupil are at stake, and that his sins will rebound on you." + +"I beg your pardon: a mistake in syntax, or in Latin verses, I agree; +but I never taught him to seduce innocent girls; it was rather your evil +counsels that perverted him." + +"Monsieur Ménard!" + +"Monsieur Dubourg!" + +"Let's go to bed." + +"_Recte dicis._" + + + + +XXX + +FRÉDÉRIC'S RETURN.--CONSTANCE AND SISTER ANNE + + +Dubourg had been Madame de Montreville's guest for ten days, and during +those ten days he had not ceased his efforts to invent some means of +warding off the effect that the sight of Frédéric would surely produce +on Sister Anne. He saw that Constance's attachment to her protégée and +the latter's gratitude to her benefactress increased from day to day. To +separate them seemed more difficult than ever; Constance frequently said +that she could not do without Sister Anne and her son, and the young +mother seemed to feel her grief less keenly by her side. + +Frédéric was expected at any moment; indeed, he was already overdue. +Constance was worried by his delay; she was less cheerful than usual, +and her eyes were often wet with tears. At such times, Sister Anne +strove to comfort her, and to say to her by signs that her husband would +soon return. + +"Suppose he no longer loves me!" Constance would say sometimes; and the +dumb girl would take her hand and lead her before a mirror, as if to +say: + +"Look at yourself; can anyone help loving you?" + +"Alas!" Constance would reply; "someone forgot you very quickly, and you +are as pretty as I am!" + +The Comte de Montreville, who had promised to pass a few days in the +country, was detained by the gout. Dubourg was not sorry; he preferred +that he should not be a witness of the recognition he dreaded; he had no +idea that the count knew Sister Anne. + +At last, Constance received a letter from her husband: he wrote her that +unforeseen circumstances had delayed his return, but that he hoped to +arrange everything soon. His letter was affectionate and expansive; he +seemed to be as much in love as ever. Nevertheless, Constance was not +satisfied: to stay away from her so long seemed in itself to indicate +less warmth. Frédéric was not there, so she was at liberty to weep; +before him, she concealed her tears. As always, it was to Sister Anne +that she confided her troubles; on her bosom she poured out her tears +and found consolation. + +Dubourg saw in this delay so much time gained. + +"Let us try to make use of it to prevent an interview between the +lovers," he said to Ménard. + +"Let's prevent it; I agree with you." + +"But I've been trying for ten days to think up some expedient, and I +can't find anything." + +"Faith! then I'm luckier than you, for I found something the day before +yesterday." + +"What! if that's so, for heaven's sake tell me what it is!" + +"It's my receipt for making milk punch, which I thought I had lost." + +On leaving home, Frédéric had gone at once to the farm to ascertain the +whereabouts of Sister Anne, and of his son, whom he ardently desired to +embrace. But when he arrived there, he learned from the worthy peasants +that the lone girl had started for Paris with her child long before. +Frédéric did not know what to do, and what caused him the greatest +distress was that a messenger from his father followed close on his +heels, bringing, as usual, money and divers other things for her whom +the count called his liberatress; which fact proved that he was unaware +that Sister Anne had left the farm, and that she had failed to find her +friend's house in Paris. + +Frédéric was distressed beyond words; the people at the farm shared his +disappointment. They regretted that they had allowed Sister Anne to go; +but how could they have opposed her resolution with success? What had +become of her? what was she doing in Paris, without friends or +protector? If they had known that the unfortunate girl had been +heartlessly robbed of all that she possessed, their grief would have +been greater. + +Frédéric remained only one day at the farm; he started back toward +Paris, and all along the road tried to obtain some information that +might put him on Sister Anne's track. On reaching Paris, he did not go +home; he did not wish his presence in the city to be known, because he +desired his wife to remain in ignorance of it, so that he might have +time to institute a search for the dumb girl and her son. For more than +a week he searched the vast city, visiting the most deserted as well as +the most populous quarters, often going up to rooms under the eaves, and +asking everywhere if anyone had seen a young woman who could not speak +and who had a child. But his search was fruitless; he did not obtain a +shred of information to put him on Sister Anne's track. With an aching +heart, he decided at last to return to Constance; he was very far from +thinking that he would find there those whom he had been seeking so +long. + +Every day, Dubourg lay in ambush on one road, and stationed Ménard as a +sentry on the other to notify him if he should see Frédéric coming. As +the country house could not be reached except by those two roads, he +felt certain of not missing him. But one morning, Ménard, having taken +his Horace with him, became so interested in an ode he was reading, that +the man for whom he was watching passed him unnoticed. Frédéric entered +the house and hurried to Constance's room, where she was sitting, alone, +thinking of her husband. + +She looked up, uttered a joyful cry, and flew into his arms. All the +pain of separation was instantly forgotten on her husband's breast. +Frédéric responded affectionately to her outbursts of love. After the +first transports of joy had subsided, Constance said: + +"During your absence, I have taken an unfortunate woman into the house. +Oh! I hope that you will love her as I do." + +"Whatever you do is well done, my dear Constance; your heart could never +lead you astray; I am certain beforehand that your benefactions have +been well bestowed." + +"Oh! she is such an interesting young thing! a victim of love, and we +women are always sympathetic with that sort of unhappiness. Her seducer +deserted her, with a charming child, whom I am perfectly wild over. His +name is Frédéric, like yours.--Why, what's the matter, dear? you are as +pale as a ghost, and all of a tremble!" + +"Oh!--fatigue, I fancy--I was in such a hurry to get home!" + +Frédéric sat down, for his legs were giving way: what Constance had told +him caused him an emotion that he could not control. He looked about +him, shuddering involuntarily. + +"And this woman--this child--where are they?" he asked, in a trembling +voice. + +"She has a room in the pavilion in the garden. But I see her now.--Come +here, my dear, come quickly," Constance called, running to meet Sister +Anne, who was coming through the hall with her son. "My husband has +returned; oh! I am so happy! Now my happiness is complete!" + +She took the dumb girl's hand and drew her into the room, where her +husband was still sitting. At sight of Frédéric, Sister Anne uttered a +heartrending shriek; she ran to him, threw herself into his arms, +pointed to her son, and lost consciousness. + +With one hand Frédéric supported Sister Anne, whose lifeless head lay +against his breast; with the other he covered his eyes, as if he were +afraid to look about him. His son was at his feet, still holding his +mother's hand, and Constance, speechless with amazement and trembling +from head to foot, stood before them. + +In an instant a thousand conflicting sensations seemed to be at work in +Constance's breast. She changed color her eyes expressed surprise and +apprehension; she shuddered, and seemed to be trying to banish the +thought that had forced itself upon her mind. But her glance, resting +alternately on Sister Anne and her husband, strove to discover the +truth. Her first impulse was to run to Sister Anne and take her from +Frédéric's arms. + +"What is the matter? Why did the sight of you put her in such a +condition?" she faltered, looking at Frédéric. "Answer me, dear; do you +know this young woman?" + +Frédéric had not the courage to reply, or even to look at Constance. But +his eye fell upon his son, and he took him in his arms and covered him +with kisses; thereupon Constance's heart received a terrible shock, for +the whole truth was laid bare before her. + +Dubourg appeared upon the scene, followed by Ménard; at sight of +Frédéric, he divined all that had happened, and he instantly ran to the +assistance of Sister Anne, crying: + +"Fainted again! an attack of madness, I'll wager! I told you before, +this poor creature has times when she loses her reason." + +Constance made no reply; she left Sister Anne to the ministrations of +Dubourg and Ménard, and returned to her husband, who still held the +child in his arms. + +"He is lovely--is he not?" she asked, in a trembling voice, with her +eyes still fastened on Frédéric. He did not speak, whereupon Constance +roughly snatched the child from his arms; but soon, repenting of that +impulsive movement, which she could not control, she covered the child +with kisses, crying in a heart-broken tone: + +"Poor child! you are not guilty!" + +Dubourg and Ménard carried Sister Anne away to the pavilion, leaving +Frédéric and Constance with the child. Frédéric's eyes were fixed on the +floor, as if he were afraid to meet those of Constance, who had seated +herself a few steps away and had taken little Frédéric on her knees. She +tried to restrain her tears, but she had not the courage to speak. For +some minutes neither of them broke the silence. At last, Frédéric raised +his eyes and saw his wife caressing Sister Anne's son. At that sight he +was on the point of throwing himself at her feet and confessing all, +when Dubourg rushed into the room. + +"It's all right! I don't think it will amount to anything," he said, +motioning to Frédéric not to betray himself. "That young woman is +subject to attacks of insanity; then she thinks that she sees her lover +everywhere. I have already advised madame more than once not to keep +her in the house." + +"Really," faltered Frédéric, trying to recover his self-possession, "I +am utterly unable to understand what has happened. I was so agitated by +that poor creature's condition--that I didn't realize what I was doing." + +Constance said nothing; she simply looked from her husband to Dubourg. + +"I'll take her son to her," said the latter, walking toward Constance to +take the child. + +"Let him stay," said Constance; "Frédéric will do that." + +Frédéric was thrown into confusion again; he could not support his +wife's glance. In vain did Dubourg whisper: + +"Come, come, morbleu! have your wits about you. Remember that, for her +own happiness, you must deceive her." + +At that moment Ménard appeared, in a comical state of dismay. + +"She has recovered her senses," he said to Dubourg, in an undertone; +"but it's impossible to make her stay quietly in her room! She's a +perfect devil! She insists on seeing him. She's running about the garden +like a madwoman." + +"Why did you leave her?" + +And Dubourg hurried from the room. + +"What is the matter?" said Constance; "is she worse?" + +"No, madame," replied Ménard, who had no idea what he ought to say or +do; "but, I'm afraid--her head--these women--love--_quid femina +possit_." + +"I will go and look after her," said Constance; "I will take her her +son, and perhaps, when she sees him---- Aren't you coming with me, +Frédéric; won't you add your efforts to mine to pacify the poor, +unhappy creature?" + +Frédéric hesitated; he did not know what it was best for him to do. He +longed to see Sister Anne, whose terrible plight had torn his heart; but +he was afraid of betraying himself when he saw her. At that moment, they +heard cries in the garden; they looked out and saw Sister Anne running +hither and thither, pursued by the servants and Dubourg. The former, +when they saw how intensely excited she was, rushing in all directions, +with her hair flying in the wind, had no doubt that she had lost her +reason; and Dubourg confirmed them in that idea, which might prevent +their guessing the truth. + +But Sister Anne spied Frédéric at one of the windows on the ground +floor; instantly she rushed in that direction, entered the room, and, in +the twinkling of an eye, threw herself into Frédéric's arms, pushing +away Constance, who stood beside him, and looking at her with a jealous +and at the same time anxious expression, as if to say: + +"I alone have the right to be here." + +The servants halted in the doorway and gazed at the picture before them. +Constance felt a terrible sinking at the heart when she saw Sister Anne +in her husband's arms; but she retained sufficient strength to walk +toward the servants and say in a trembling voice: + +"Go, my friends; this unhappy woman is not in her right mind, but we +shall be able to pacify her." + +The servants retired; Ménard had gone in search of Dubourg, to whom he +always had recourse at difficult crises; Sister Anne was left alone with +her son and Frédéric and Constance. + +The dumb girl seemed as if she would attach herself inseparably to +Frédéric, who had not the courage to push her away. She smiled at him, +she took his hands and held them to her heart, then pointed to their +son. At the same time, she glanced uneasily at Constance, who was seated +a few steps away, with her face hidden in her hands, unable to endure +that scene. But her tears were suffocating her; they burst forth at +last, and she sobbed as if her heart would break. Sister Anne shuddered. +Constance's grief seemed to touch her to the quick. Frédéric could +contain himself no longer; he ran and threw himself at his wife's feet; +but she, without looking at him, gently repulsed him. + +"Go, go," she said; "this unhappy girl has more claim to your love than +I; this child is your son. Console her for all she has suffered since +you deserted her. I know the whole truth now. No; she has not lost her +reason; she has found her seducer, the father of her child!" + +Frédéric was thunderstruck. Pale and trembling, he remained at +Constance's feet; and Sister Anne, with her eyes fixed upon his face, +seemed to be waiting to hear what he would say. But Frédéric seized his +wife's hand and covered it with tears and kisses; at that sight a +plaintive moan escaped the dumb girl, and again she fell unconscious to +the floor. + +Constance hastened to her assistance. + +"Leave us," she said to Frédéric; "your presence is too painful to her. +Oh! you can trust her to me; I shall be no different to her from what I +have always been." + +Frédéric made no reply, but left the room, in a state of complete +bewilderment. He met Dubourg and Ménard hurrying toward him. + +"The pretence is of no avail," he said; "Constance has divined the +truth; she knows all." + +"As she knows all," said Ménard, "we mustn't conceal anything more from +her." + +Constance lavished upon Sister Anne the most zealous attention. At last, +the dumb girl opened her eyes. When they fell upon Frédéric's wife, her +first impulse was to push her away; then she looked about in search of +Frédéric. Constance beckoned to the child, who held out his little arms +to his mother. Sister Anne seemed touched by Constance's conduct; she +looked at her with less jealousy, but she shuddered from head to foot, +her teeth chattered violently, her eyes closed again, and a ghastly +pallor overspread her cheeks. + +Constance ordered the servants to carry her to the pavilion, where she +was put to bed. She was in a raging fever, and was really delirious. Her +eyes rolled from side to side with an expression of intense anxiety; she +recognized nobody, and even repulsed her son. + +"Poor dear! I will not abandon you," said Constance; and she passed the +whole day beside Sister Anne's bed. Not until evening, when she found +that she was a little calmer, did she decide to leave her; but she left +her in charge of faithful and willing servants, intending to return +frequently to ascertain her condition. + +She returned to her own apartment, where Frédéric awaited her. How +different was that day, which reunited them, from those that they had +previously passed together! Constance said nothing; her heart was drawn +hither and thither by a multitude of conflicting emotions; her bosom +rose and fell convulsively, but she tried to conceal her suffering and +to appear calm before her husband. Frédéric stood before her, +motionless, like a criminal awaiting his doom; her kindness made him +keenly alive to his wrong-doing. At last he approached her, not daring +to speak, and fell at her feet. + +"What are you doing?" said Constance, gently; "why do you kneel at my +feet? You are not guilty toward me. Ah! it would be more just for you to +kneel at the feet of her whom you have betrayed and deserted! I have no +right to complain: your fault is only too common among men. You knew +this poor girl before your marriage. She has become a mother. But, in +the world, your conduct would be considered perfectly natural and +proper. Far from blaming you, society would perhaps applaud you for +forgetting a woman who could not be your wife. But, I confess, I thought +that you were different from the heedless rakes who pride themselves on +the tears of which they are the cause. What lamentable results your +fault has had! If you only knew all that the unhappy creature has +suffered! She was in the last stages of destitution, actually dying of +starvation, when I took her in; yes, dying of starvation--with your son +in her arms. Oh! Frédéric! do you realize what your remorse would have +been? You weep? Ah! my dear, let your tears flow; I would rather lose +your heart than believe that it was capable of utter lack of feeling. +Listen: you have found your child's mother; you must not abandon her +again. If you will leave everything to me, I will assure her future; she +shall live in a house which I will buy for her in some pleasant place in +the country; she shall want nothing. Her son is a dear boy; I would have +liked to be a mother to him, but it would be a horrible thing to +separate her from her child. He shall have a good education. When he has +grown up, you shall decide his fate; and be assured that I shall never +consider anything that you do for him more than you ought to do. That is +what I propose to do for the woman you once loved. But it may be that +this plan does not satisfy you. Perhaps, on seeing the poor girl again, +the love that she formerly inspired in you has revived. Perhaps you love +her still. Oh! Frédéric, I entreat you to be sincere with me; let me +read in the bottom of your heart. There is no sacrifice of which I am +not capable to make you happy. Yes, my dear; I shall be able to endure +anything--except the sight of your regret for another. If you love +her--if you still feel drawn to her--I will go away, I will bury myself +on one of our estates; you will not see me again, and you will be at +liberty to keep the mother of your child with you." + +Constance could no longer hold back the tears that were suffocating her. +She had made a prolonged effort to restrain her feelings, but her +courage gave way when she proposed to Frédéric that they should part. + +"I, leave you!" he cried, throwing his arms about her. "Oh! Constance, +can you believe that I have ceased for one instant to love you? No, I +swear to you, you alone possess my heart! I realize the wrong I have +done; I propose to assure Sister Anne's future; I must do it. Could I +help feeling profoundly moved when I saw her again? And the child--I +love him, and I propose to see to his future welfare and happiness; for +that you cannot blame me. I approve all your plans; I know the goodness +of your heart, the nobility of your soul. How few wives would have acted +as you have done! Command me: send Sister Anne away; let her go +to-morrow." + +"To-morrow! oh! no, dear. The poor child is ill--very ill! she shall not +leave this place until she has fully recovered. So long as she is +here--you must avoid seeing her; your presence can do her nothing but +harm. Promise me that you will not see her; that is the only sacrifice I +ask of you." + +"I will do whatever you say." + +"When she has recovered, I will go with her myself to her new home, and +I will not leave her until I am certain that she lacks nothing." + +Frédéric embraced Constance with profound affection; her kindness of +heart made her even dearer to him. A wife ought never to employ any +other weapons; reproaches and complaints repel a husband; gentleness and +indulgence always end by winning back his heart. + +In her husband's arms, Constance found happiness once more; he swore to +her that he loved no one but her, and she believed his oaths: could she +live without his love? + +Early the next morning, Constance went to the pavilion; and Frédéric +sought Dubourg and Ménard, to tell them of his wife's noble conduct. + +"There aren't many women like her," said Dubourg; "guard her carefully; +you cannot love her too dearly; you have a veritable treasure in her!" + +"Madame de Montreville's conduct," said Ménard, "is certainly worthy of +one of Plutarch's heroines; and I know of nothing finer in history save +that of Cunegunde, wife of the Emperor Henry II, who grasped a red-hot +iron to prove her chastity." + +Sister Anne was still in an alarming condition; she recognized nobody, +but she seemed to be constantly looking for somebody and holding out her +arms to him. Constance looked to it that she wanted nothing; she herself +brought a doctor to her, and installed at her bedside an old +maid-servant, who did not leave her for an instant. Then Constance took +little Frédéric and carried him to her husband. + +"Love him dearly," she said, as she placed him in his arms; "by making +the child happy, you can best atone for the wrong you have done the +mother. I feel that I, too, love him as if he were my own son. When I +first saw him, a secret presentiment seemed to tell me that he belonged +to you; and that thought made me love him more rather than less." + +Frédéric embraced his son, who thenceforth passed a large part of the +time with him; for the poor child no longer received the caresses of his +mother, who was still in a raging fever, and delirious, and, for nearly +a fortnight, lay at the gates of death. During that time, Constance +passed whole days and often whole nights in the pavilion, refusing to +leave to another the nursing that the young patient required; she hung +over her pillow, and held her in the most violent paroxysms of her +delirium; she triumphed over fatigue, she was unconscious of suffering, +she devoted her whole attention to Sister Anne; in vain did Frédéric, +day after day, urge her to be careful of her own health and to take some +rest. + +"Let me nurse her," said Constance; "by devoting myself to her, it seems +to me that I repair a part of the wrong that you have done her." + +Frédéric had not a moment's peace of mind so long as he knew that Sister +Anne was in danger. He was consumed with the longing to see her again, +but he had promised his wife not to enter her presence; and how could he +break his promise, after all that Constance had done for him? He often +hovered about the pavilion where the poor girl lay, and waited +impatiently for someone to come out from whom he could obtain news of +her condition. But when it was Constance who came out, he concealed a +part of what he felt, afraid to reveal the extent of his interest in the +dumb girl. + +Thanks to the unremitting care of Frédéric's wife, the patient returned +to life; her delirium ceased, she recognized her child, strained him to +her heart, and refused to be separated from him. When she first saw +Constance again, her whole body quivered; but in a moment she seemed to +recover herself, and seized her benefactress's hand, which she covered +with tears and kisses; it was as if she were trying to ask her +forgiveness for the wrong she had done her. + +"Poor girl!" said Constance, affectionately pressing her hand; "I shall +always be the same to you; it is my place to try to make up for your +misfortunes. I am your friend; your child is mine; henceforth his fate +and yours are assured. Oh! don't shake your head--I am simply paying a +debt. Your son is a sweet, lovely boy; his happiness will enable you to +forget your own sorrows some day. Courage! you may yet be happy!" + +Sister Anne sighed, and her eyes seemed to say that it was impossible. +Constance herself did not believe that it was possible to forget +Frédéric; but it is lawful to lie a little in order to comfort others. +The dumb girl looked about the room, but, in a moment, turned her eyes +again upon her benefactress, as if resigned to her fate. + +"I will do what you order me to do," she seemed to say. + +Constance informed her husband that Sister Anne was saved, although her +convalescence would be long and slow; the doctor had said that the +invalid would not be able to travel for a long time, but that the +proximity of the garden would afford her an excellent opportunity to +test without injury the return of her strength. + +Frédéric was overjoyed to learn that his victim was restored to life; +every day the longing to see her, though but for a moment, tormented him +more. Nor was that his only longing: while the dumb girl was very ill, +they had brought his son to him, and he had passed a great part of the +time with him. He had become accustomed to his presence, he had learned +to know the pleasures of a father's love; and that sentiment is not one +of those which time or separation impairs. Frédéric, who dared not let +his wife know of his longing to see Sister Anne, had no hesitation in +asking for his son. + +"He is his mother's sole consolation now, my dear; do you want to +deprive her of him? Later, when time has allayed her suffering somewhat, +I have no doubt that she will consent to send him to you now and then; +but just at this time she wants him with her every moment." + +Frédéric said no more, but tried to conceal his feelings; for Constance +was gazing at him as if she would read his inmost thoughts. + +Sister Anne recovered her strength very slowly; it was several days +before she was able to go down into the garden with her son, leaning on +Constance's arm. As she supported the convalescent's tottering steps, +Constance glanced anxiously about, dreading to see Frédéric, although +she had told him that Sister Anne was coming into the garden, which was +equivalent to asking him not to appear there. Frédéric knew that his +presence would certainly cause an agitation that would be dangerous to +the invalid, and he remained in his apartment. + +Sister Anne was calmer, but her calmness seemed to be the result of +complete prostration rather than of resignation; she kept her eyes fixed +on the ground, except when she turned them on her son; she did not weep, +but the expression of her face indicated her mental suffering; +meanwhile, her strength constantly increased, and soon she was able to +go out alone with her son, to stroll about the pavilion. + +A few days more, and Madame de Montreville was to set out with Sister +Anne and her son for the estate on which she proposed that they should +make their home. Frédéric approved his wife's plan, but he was consumed +by the desire to see once more the woman he had loved so dearly, and +whom he was not certain that he did not love still. + +He knew that Sister Anne and her son went every morning at daybreak to +sit in an arbor near the pavilion. One morning he rose softly, while +Constance was still asleep; it was almost dawn; he could not resist the +craving to see the dumb girl and her son; he did not mean to speak to +her, or to show himself to her, but only to see her once more. She was +to go away the next day, so that that day was the last on which it would +be possible for him to satisfy the desire that beset him. + +He dressed noiselessly and walked to the bed where Constance lay; she +was not resting quietly, but her eyes were closed, she was asleep; he +determined to seize the opportunity, and he stole quickly from the room +and into the garden. The first rays of dawn were just beginning to +dispel the mists of the night; he walked rapidly toward Sister Anne's +favorite arbor; his heart beat fast; it seemed to him that he was living +anew those moments of his first love when he arrived at the wood of +Vizille and looked for the dumb girl on the bank of the stream where +they were wont to meet. + +She was not yet in the arbor; she probably would not be there for at +least a quarter of an hour; he sat down on the bench where she usually +sat, from which he could see the pavilion where she and her son lived. +He fastened his eyes upon that building; his heart was full, he felt +again the delicious emotion that he used to feel as he gazed at old +Marguerite's miserable hovel. At that moment, he forgot all that had +happened since; he waited impatiently for her to come out; it seemed to +him that he would see her come running toward him, driving her goats. + +Time passes very quickly when one is engrossed by such memories. +Suddenly the door of the pavilion opened and a child appeared--it was +his son. Frédéric was on the point of running forward to embrace him, +but he remembered the promise he had given Constance. If he went nearer +to the pavilion, Sister Anne would see him, for she could not be far +behind her child. He must keep out of her sight; so he crept behind the +shrubbery, and there, hidden by a thick clump of hornbeams, he waited +tremblingly for her to appear. + +He had hardly left the arbor, when the dumb girl came out of the +pavilion and took her son by the hand. Frédéric could not take his eyes +from her. She was dressed in a plain white gown; her hair, gathered +carelessly on top of her head, fell over her forehead, whereon sadness +and suffering were written. She smiled, however, as she looked at her +child; then paused, glanced about the garden, and heaved a profound +sigh. + +Frédéric did not tire of gazing at her; that unfamiliar costume, in +which he was now for the first time able to examine her at his +leisure,--for in his wife's presence he had hardly dared to look at +her,--seemed to add to her charms and make her more beautiful than ever. +She came toward him, she entered the arbor; he hardly breathed. She sat +on the bench--she was close beside him--only a few branches separated +them; he heard her sighs, he could count the throbs of her heart. How +sad she seemed! Alas! who would console her now? He was the cause of her +woes, and he could do nothing to put an end to them. The child put his +little arms about his mother's neck; it was as if he were already +trying, young as he was, to soothe her grief. She pressed him to her +heart, but her tears continued to flow. Frédéric could control himself +no longer; he heard her sobs, he forgot his promise, he saw nothing but +Sister Anne's tears, which fell upon his heart. He abruptly put aside +the branches that separated them; he fell at her feet and embraced her +knees, crying: + +"Forgive me!" + +At sight of Frédéric, Sister Anne started to rise and fly, but she had +not the strength; she fell back on the bench and tried to look the other +way, but an irresistible power forced her to turn her eyes upon her +lover. He was at her feet, entreating her forgiveness; she had not the +courage to repel him; she placed her son in his arms, and soon she was +straining him to her heart. At that moment they heard a cry, not far +away. Frédéric, disturbed and alarmed, left the arbor and looked in +every direction; seeing no one, he returned to Sister Anne. But she was +already going back to the pavilion with her son; he tried to detain her; +she slipped from his arms, while her eyes bade him an affectionate +adieu. She had enjoyed a moment's happiness, but she did not propose to +be culpable toward her benefactress by remaining longer with Frédéric. + +Sister Anne and the child having returned to the pavilion, Frédéric was +alone in the garden; he was still agitated by the pleasure it had +afforded him to see his former sweetheart, but that pleasure was +mingled with anxiety. The cry he had heard worried him. He searched +every part of the garden, but found no one. He persuaded himself that he +had made a mistake, that the voice came from the fields. For a moment he +thought of his wife. Suppose that Constance had seen him! But he soon +rejected that idea, for Constance was asleep when he left his room. He +returned to the house. The servants were astir. Dubourg and Ménard came +down into the garden. Frédéric dared not go to his wife, but waited till +breakfast before seeing her again. + +He strolled about the garden with his friends; but he was thoughtful and +ill at ease. + +"Are you grieving over Sister Anne's approaching departure?" said +Dubourg. "I tell you, my dear fellow, it is indispensable. A man can't +live under the same roof with his wife and his mistress, even if the +latter has ceased to be anything to him; for the wife must always stand +in dread of chance meetings and accidents; and if she loves her husband +ever so little, she won't sleep peacefully." + +"Unquestionably," said Ménard, "one cannot live with the wolf and the +lamb. It's as if you should put a canary and a parrot in the same cage; +they'll always end by fighting. I don't refer to Madame de Montreville; +she's an angel of gentleness; and certainly the other little woman will +never talk loud. But, after all: _naturam expellas furca, tamen usque +recurret_. Furthermore, a Greek philosopher has said: 'Do you want to +have hell on earth? if so, live with your wife and your mistress.'" + +"But, Monsieur Ménard, far from having any such desire, I wish with all +my heart that the poor creature were already far away. I realize too +well that I must not rely on my resolutions." + +"There's only one thing in the world you can rely on; and that is +indigestion, if you bathe right after eating." + +The breakfast hour arrived; Constance appeared, and, as usual, went to +her husband and kissed him. + +"I was mistaken; she knows nothing," said Frédéric to himself. + +However, it seemed to him that she was pale, that her eyes were red and +swollen, that her hand trembled in his. He inquired affectionately +concerning her health. + +"I am all right," said Constance; "I am not sick; there's nothing the +matter with me." + +But her tone seemed to contradict her words. + +The day passed, and Frédéric was surprised to see that Constance made no +preparations for Sister Anne's departure and her own. He ventured at +last to mention the subject. + +"I have changed my mind," said Constance, struggling to conceal her +emotion; "I don't see why that young woman should leave the house; she +is so happy with us! Her presence cannot be disagreeable to you; on the +other hand, her absence might cause you too much regret." + +"What do you say?" cried Frédéric. + +"No, she shall not go," continued Constance, coldly; apparently not +noticing her husband's bewilderment. "It is useless now." + +With that, she turned away and shut herself up in her own apartment. +Frédéric did not know what to think of that sudden change of plan; but +that evening Constance's maid went to the pavilion, at her bidding, and +informed Sister Anne that she was to live on at the pavilion; that +there was no further question of her going away. + +The dumb girl was greatly surprised; but her heart could not be +indifferent to the bliss of remaining near Frédéric. She was astonished, +however, that her benefactress, who had been so unvaryingly kind to her, +did not come to her and explain her change of plan. Several days passed, +and she did not see Madame de Montreville. The same attention was paid +to her comfort and her son's, but her benefactress had ceased to visit +the occupants of the pavilion. + +Constance passed all her time in her own room; she did not say a word to +Frédéric; but her face was drawn and haggard; it was evident that she +was suffering and that she was doing her utmost to conceal it. Frédéric +hardly dared to question her, and when he did she always answered +gently: + +"Nothing is the matter with me." + +"Morbleu!" said Dubourg; "this isn't natural! That young woman has +something on her mind. She insists now that the other one shall stay; I +can't make anything out of it." + +"Nor I," said Ménard; "but I think, with you, that there's some mystery +about it. Tertullian says that the devil isn't as mischievous as woman, +and I agree with Tertullian." + + + + +XXXI + +THE CATASTROPHE + + +Sister Anne and her son continued to occupy the pavilion in the garden. +She went out very rarely, and then only to walk in the paths that were +near by. She did not go near the house; she was afraid of meeting +Frédéric again, although her heart still burned for him with the same +ardent flame. + +Nor did Frédéric dare to go near the pavilion; his wife's conduct, ever +since the day that he embraced the dumb girl, had left no doubt in his +mind that it was she who had uttered that cry of which he had +unavailingly sought the author. If Constance had seen him at Sister +Anne's feet, what could she think of his promises? Of course, she +believed now that she was not the sole object of his love. He was often +tempted to throw himself at her feet, to assure her that he adored her +still; but, in that case, he must confess that he had broken his word; +and suppose his wife did not know it, after all! In his uncertainty, +Frédéric held his peace, hoping, by keeping a close watch upon himself, +to dispel the suspicions which were devouring Constance's heart in +secret. + +Constance did not leave the house; she did not even go into the garden. +Her face was careworn, her cheeks had lost their color; she tried in +vain to smile; the melancholy that was eating her heart away betrayed +itself in every act. She was still as sweet and amiable as ever; she +seemed to appreciate her husband's attentions, and, noticing that he +never went into the garden, she often urged him to do so. + +"Why do you wish me to leave you?" said Frédéric; "can I be as happy +elsewhere as I am with you?" + +Whereupon Constance lovingly pressed his hand and turned away to conceal +a tear. She had the scene in the arbor constantly before her eyes; she +saw her husband pressing Sister Anne to his heart; she believed that she +no longer possessed his love, and persuaded herself that he was unhappy +because he no longer saw the dumb girl, but that he was sacrificing +himself for her peace of mind. That cruel thought was the source of the +keenest torture to her heart,--torture the more painful because she +strove to conceal it. + +"Things can't go on like this," Dubourg often said to Frédéric. "Your +wife is changing perceptibly, and the poor dumb girl's melancholy is +enough to break one's heart. Morbleu! if these two women remain +together, both of them will very soon die of consumption." + +"What can I do? Is not Sister Anne's fate absolutely in Constance's +hands? When I attempt to speak to her about it, she closes my mouth, or +else declares again that she doesn't choose to send her away." + +"It's very embarrassing, on my word," said Ménard; "and if I were in my +pupil's place, I know what I would do." + +"Well, what would you do?" queried Dubourg. + +"Pardieu! I would do as he does--not know what to do." + +A very simple occurrence was destined to effect a revolution in +Frédéric's household: one morning, the Comte de Montreville, having at +last shaken off the gout, arrived at his son's country house. + +Dubourg, although he had no idea that the count knew Sister Anne, was +pleased by his arrival, because he felt sure that his presence would +compel Frédéric to take some decisive step. Frédéric was terribly +disturbed when his father appeared, having as yet had no explanation +with him. Should he tell him the truth--that the dumb girl was under his +roof? But, before he was left alone with the count, Constance made him +promise that he would not mention Sister Anne; for she thought that the +count was ignorant of his son's wrong-doing, and she did not want him to +know of it at all. + +The Comte de Montreville had been anxious for a long while concerning +the fate of the young woman who had saved his life. His last messenger +had brought him the intelligence that she had left the farm, intending +to go to Paris. As she did not appear at his house, he had caused a +search to be made for her, but to no purpose; he had no idea what could +have become of her. + +On arriving at his son's house, the count was at once impressed by +Constance's melancholy and dejection. He inquired anxiously concerning +the cause of the change; the young woman tried to evade his questions, +on the pretext that she was slightly indisposed; but the old man was +sharp-eyed: he saw that some mystery was being hidden from him, and he +determined to fathom it. His son was embarrassed in his presence. Ménard +avoided him as if he were afraid of being reprimanded for something. +Dubourg alone appeared delighted by his arrival. Everything seemed to +indicate that something extraordinary was taking place in the house. + +As Constance knew that Monsieur de Montreville was accustomed, when he +was at Montmorency, to go to the pavilion in the garden to read, she +lost no time in informing him that a young woman and her son, of whom +she had taken charge, were quartered there. The count asked no +questions; he was far from suspecting that that young woman was the one +he had been seeking so long: he certainly did not expect to find her +under his son's roof. + +On the day after his arrival, the count rose early, as usual, and went +into the garden. He walked toward the pavilion, and not until he was +about to enter did he remember what Constance had told him the day +before. He turned away, and was walking in another direction, when a +child came out of the pavilion and ran toward him; in a moment, another +person had seized his hand and pressed it to her heart. The Comte de +Montreville was surprised beyond expression when he found himself in the +presence of the dumb girl and her son. + +Sister Anne had seen the count from her window as he came toward the +pavilion; she recognized him instantly; her protector's features were +engraved on her memory. When he turned away, she at once ran after him. +The poor girl did her best to express the pleasure she felt at seeing +him again; and he was a long while recovering from his amazement. + +"You here!" he said, at last; "who took you in? Do you know that the +young woman who has given you shelter is Frédéric's wife--your seducer's +wife?" + +Sister Anne explained by signs that she did know it, that she had seen +Frédéric, and that it was Constance who insisted that she should live in +that pavilion. + +Every instant added to the count's bewilderment. As he could not obtain +from the dumb girl all the information he desired, he was intensely +anxious to see his son. + +"Go back to the pavilion," he said to Sister Anne; "you will soon leave +it. You have been here only too long. Go, my poor child; I will see you +again soon." + +Sister Anne obeyed; she returned to the pavilion with her son, whom the +count could not refrain from embracing tenderly. + +Frédéric dreaded just what had happened; he trembled lest his father +should meet Sister Anne, and was on the point of going to him to tell +him the truth, when the count appeared before him; his stern expression +announced that it was too late to warn him. + +"I have just seen the person who is living in the pavilion in the +garden," said the count, watching his son closely; "and I am no longer +surprised at the depression, the great change, which I have noticed in +your wife's whole appearance. Unhappy man! so this is the recompense of +her love! of her virtues! You permit the woman you seduced to live under +the same roof as your wife!" + +"I am not to blame in this," said Frédéric; and he told his father how +his wife had taken in the dumb girl and her child during his absence; +how she had become attached to the unfortunate creature; and everything +that had happened on his return. + +The count listened in silence to Frédéric's story. + +"So your wife knows all!" he said; "she knows that you are that girl's +seducer, the father of her child; and she insists that she shall +continue to live in your house?" + +"Her purpose at first was to send her away, to take her and the child to +one of our estates, where she would have everything that her comfort and +welfare required; the day for their departure was fixed. I have no idea +why she changed her mind, but now she insists that Sister Anne shall not +go." + +"And you can't divine the reason? My son, such conduct is too +extraordinary not to have some secret cause. It is not natural that a +wife who loves, yes, adores her husband, should want to keep by her side +her rival, or, at all events, the woman he once loved and may love +again. But Constance has a soul capable of sacrificing everything, of +immolating itself for your happiness! Ought you to allow that? Don't you +see how she has changed? She conceals her tears from you, but she can't +conceal her pallor, the suffering that is working havoc on her lovely +features. There is not a minute in the day when she is not thinking that +you are under the same roof as the mother of your son; that you can see +her, speak to her." + +"Oh! I swear to you, father, that I never----" + +"I am glad to believe you; but your wife is in a cruel position. +To-morrow, your victim will no longer be under your eyes." + +"What! father!" + +"Do you disapprove of my determination?" + +"I? oh, no! far from it. No; I realize all that I owe you. Surely I do +not need to commend that poor creature--and my son--to your care!" + +"No, monsieur; I know what my duty is; your wife's beneficent intentions +shall be carried out. Indeed, do you suppose that that young woman is +indifferent to me, or that her son has no claim upon my heart? Because +it is no longer subject to the ardent passions of youth, do you think +that it is closed to all sentiment? Let me restore peace of mind and +repose to your wife; and do you restore her happiness, if possible, by +redoubling your devotion and your love. That is the way to atone for +your wrong-doing, Frédéric, and to pay me for all that I propose to do +for Sister Anne and her son." + +Frédéric shed tears upon his father's hand. The count left him, to go to +Constance; he did not mention the dumb girl to her, but, as he looked +into her face, he felt that he admired her and loved her more than ever. +Constance did not know to what she should attribute the marks of +affection which the count, usually so cold, took pleasure in lavishing +upon her; she could not divine the explanation of them. She believed +that he was ignorant of his son's fault. + +The count sent his servant to Paris, with orders to have a post chaise +with two good horses at the garden gate the next morning at daybreak. He +proposed to accompany Sister Anne, and he went to the pavilion to tell +her what he had determined upon. + +His frequent going and coming led Dubourg to conclude that the count had +some project in contemplation. + +"We shall have a change here," he said to Ménard; "God grant that it may +restore happiness and pleasure to this house!" + +"It certainly hasn't been very gay here of late," said Ménard; "madame +la comtesse sighs, my pupil is preoccupied, the dumb girl says nothing; +and I can hardly recognize you yourself, my dear Dubourg." + +"Well! how do you expect me to be in high spirits, when I see that all +the people I love are unhappy? In spite of my philosophy, I am not +insensible to my friends' suffering." + +"You're like me; I think of it all day long." + +"Indeed! but it doesn't take away your appetite." + +"Would you have me make myself ill, to cheer them up?" + +"You're not likely to; you're getting to be a regular ball!" + +"That fool of a cook gives us beefsteak every day; how can I help +growing fat?" + +"I expect great things from the arrival of Frédéric's father; he has +been to the pavilion and seen Sister Anne, and a change is coming, I am +sure of it." + +"Ah! do you think that we shan't have any more beefsteaks?" + +"Really, Monsieur Ménard, you weren't born to live in France; you ought +to take up your abode in Switzerland, where they eat all day." + +"I was born, monsieur, to live anywhere; and when you called yourself +Baron Potoski, you had a pretty knack of squandering our funds with your +three-course dinners; but I won't say of you: _Quantum mutatus ab illo_, +because I noticed you at table yesterday; you ate all the tunny, and +when I wanted some more it was all gone." + +"Tunny is very indigestible, Monsieur Ménard; it isn't good for you." + +"I beg you, monsieur, not to worry about my health, and to leave some +tunny for me at the next opportunity. You will see that, old as I am, I +can steer clear of indigestion if I choose!" + +While those whom he left in the house lost themselves in conjectures, +the count walked through the garden to the pavilion. It was dark when he +was ready to tell Sister Anne what he proposed to do. Her room was on +the first floor; he hesitated a moment before he went upstairs to the +woman who had saved his life. + +"Poor child!" he said to himself; "I am going to deal her a heavy blow. +I must take her away from Frédéric; I must separate them forever; but I +am simply doing my duty, and her heart is too pure not to feel that she +must think first of all of the peace of mind, yes, the life, of the +woman who saved her and her son from the horrors of starvation, and who +has taken pleasure in heaping kindnesses upon her." + +The old man entered the dumb girl's room; at sight of him, she rose and +ran to meet him; one could read in her eyes the respect and affection +that she felt for him. The count was touched to the heart; he looked at +her for several minutes in silence; but he felt that he must say at once +what he had to say, so that she might be ready at dawn. + +"My child," he said, "I told you this morning that you cannot, you must +not, remain any longer in this house; your presence here will in the end +be fatal to her who rescued you. Constance loves her husband dearly; do +you wish to rob her of repose and happiness forever? She conceals the +torments she is suffering; but I have read her inmost thoughts. You +surely do not wish to cause the death of the woman who saved your son?" + +Sister Anne, by a most eloquent gesture, signified that she was prepared +to sacrifice herself for Constance. + +"Very well," continued the count; "then you must go away, you must leave +this place--to-morrow at daybreak--without seeing your benefactress. I +will undertake to tell her all that your heart would impel you to say to +her. You must not see any of this household again; it is unnecessary. +There is one person in particular--but I need not urge upon you the +necessity of taking every precaution to avoid meeting him." + +Sister Anne was overwhelmed with grief. To go away so suddenly, without +any preparation! to go without seeing him, and forever! Her courage +failed her, and the tears gushed from her eyes. + +The count went to her and took her hand. + +"Poor child!" he said; "this sudden departure grieves you, but it must +be; under such circumstances, every minute's delay is a crime. I tear +you away from this house, but I have a right to be harsh. Courage, dear +child! It is Frédéric's father, whom you saved from the knives of the +brigands, it is he who asks you to sacrifice yourself once more, for his +son's good." + +These words produced upon the dumb girl all the effect that the count +anticipated; on learning that he was her lover's father, she fell at his +knees, and with clasped hands seemed to implore his forgiveness. + +"Rise, rise," he said, kissing her on the forehead; "unfortunate girl! +would to God that I could give you back your happiness! At all events, +you may be assured of a comfortable home, and your son's future is +provided for. I am going to take you to a farm, which I propose to give +you; there is a pretty little cottage connected with it, where you will +live, attended by faithful servants who will love you dearly. There you +will bring up your son; I will come often to share your retirement, and +before long, I hope, peace and tranquillity will have returned to your +heart." + +Sister Anne listened, and was ready to obey; she had no hope of being +happy again, but her eyes seemed to say: + +"Do with me as you will; I am ready to abide by your slightest wish." + +"Until to-morrow, then," said the count; "I will come for you at +daybreak; I want to be away before anybody in the house is astir. A +comfortable carriage will be ready for us at the garden gate. Make all +your preparations to-night; they need not be long, for you will find in +your new home everything that you and your son will require. Au revoir, +dear child; be brave! At daybreak I shall be with you." + +The count took his leave, and Sister Anne was alone; her son was asleep; +it was night, the last night that she was to pass near Frédéric. She +must go away from him--fly from him forever. That thought overwhelmed +her. She sat, perfectly motionless, on a chair beside her son's cradle; +a single thought absorbed all her faculties: she must go away from him +whom her heart had ached to find, whom she idolized, and who, in the +arbor, had acted as if he loved her still; she must go away from him; +the peace of mind, the existence, of her benefactress demanded that +terrible sacrifice. + +The last hours that she was to pass in the house seemed to fly with +unexampled rapidity. Engrossed by these thoughts, she had done nothing +toward preparing for her departure. The village clock struck twelve, and +the dumb girl still sat beside her son's cradle, in the same position in +which the count had left her. + +The mournful clang of the bell roused her from her reverie; she rose, +and made a small bundle of her clothes; her preparations were soon +completed, and there were still several hours before the dawn. Should +she try to sleep? no; she knew that it would be in vain! But what +thought is this that makes her heart beat fast? Everybody in the house +is asleep; suppose she should take advantage of her last remaining +moments to go a little nearer to him! She did not propose to see him, +for she knew that that would be a breach of her promise to the count and +of her duty to her benefactress. But she could go, without Frédéric's +knowledge, to bid him a last farewell; she knew which were the windows +of his room; it seemed to her that she should go away a little less +unhappy, and that Frédéric might perhaps hear her whispered farewell in +his sleep. + +She hesitated no longer; she put her bundles on a chair and placed her +candle on the hearth. Her son was sleeping soundly; she leaned over and +looked at him, and shed tears upon his pillow at the thought that she +was soon to take him away from his father. + +Everything was perfectly quiet, as she stole noiselessly from the +pavilion. It was a dark night, but she was familiar with the garden. +Like a shadow, her feet barely touching the earth, she glided swiftly +along the paths, until at last she reached the house. Frédéric's +apartment was on the first floor, at the right; she knelt under his +windows, she held out her arms to him, and bade him a last farewell. + +Weeping bitterly, with her head resting on her hand, but unable to +remove her eyes from the room in which she knew him to be, Sister Anne +abandoned herself to her love, her regret, her despair. It was a long +while since she had left the pavilion; the minutes were passing rapidly, +but she could not tear herself away from that spot. But it must be done. +The unhappy girl made a final effort; she rose and walked away, +broken-hearted; she staggered along the paths, hardly able to restrain +her sobs. + +Suddenly she became conscious of a bright light in the garden; she +raised her eyes; she could not conceive where it came from. As she +walked on, the light became brighter and brighter; the darkness of the +night was succeeded by a terrifying glare; it was fire, which lighted up +every nook and corner of the garden. As that certainty burst upon her +mind, Sister Anne, seized by an indescribable fear, no longer walked, +but ran, aye, flew toward the pavilion; the flames were pouring forth in +clouds from the windows of the first floor. + +A heartrending shriek burst from the young mother's lips; she could see +nothing but her son, whom she had left in that room, her son, whom the +flames were perhaps already consuming! + +In her desperation, she recovered her strength; she rushed into the +pavilion; the hall was filled with dense smoke; but a mother knows no +danger, she must have her child. She groped her way upstairs, felt for +the door, which the smoke concealed and which her trembling hands sought +in vain. At last the flames guided her; she entered the room; everything +was ablaze. A bundle of clothes had fallen against the candle, and the +flames had spread rapidly to all parts of the room. Sister Anne ran to +the cradle, which the fire had just reached; she held her son in her +arms; she tried to go out, but she could not see what direction to take. +Already the flames surrounded her; her limbs were badly burned; she +tried to call, for she felt that she was dying. At that moment, her +voice, yielding to a mighty effort of nature, broke the bonds that held +it; and the unfortunate girl, as she fell, exclaimed distinctly: + +"Frédéric, come and save your son!" + +The flames rising from the pavilion had been seen by the people at the +house, several of whom were unable to sleep. Frédéric rushed from his +room in dismay, shouting as he ran. Everyone rose and dressed in haste. + +"The pavilion's on fire!" was the general cry. + +Frédéric arrived there ahead of all the rest; he defied death, to make +his way to Sister Anne; he entered the room a few seconds after she had +lost consciousness; he took her on one arm and his son on the other; he +passed through the flames into the garden; he had saved them both. + +On learning what had happened, everybody had followed Frédéric. +Constance was not the last to fly upon her husband's footsteps. It was +she who received Sister Anne in her arms, who hung over her with loving +solicitude, and ordered the unconscious girl to be carried to her +apartment. They all gathered about the young woman, whose body bore the +marks of the flames; but her son was uninjured, and they waited +impatiently for her to open her eyes, so that they might show him to her +safe and sound. + +At last, she drew a long, quivering breath; her eyes opened. Constance +led her child to her side. + +"My son!" cried Sister Anne, covering the child with kisses. + +Those words caused the greatest surprise to all who heard them. They +stared at Sister Anne, listening intently, as if they doubted whether +they had heard aright. + +"O my God!" continued the young mother; "it is not a dream; Thou hast +given me back the use of my tongue.--Ah! Frédéric! I can tell you now +how I loved you--how I love you still! Forgive me, madame; I feel that I +shall not long enjoy this voice which has been restored to me. All that +I have suffered to-day has exhausted my strength; I am going to die, but +my son is saved. Oh! don't pity me!" + +The unfortunate woman had made a mighty effort to say thus much; her +eyes lost their expression, her hand became like ice, a ghastly pallor +overspread her face. Frédéric fell on his knees beside her; he bathed +with his tears the hand she abandoned to him. The count was overcome by +grief. Constance tried to recall the dying girl to life by holding up +her son before her. Even Dubourg, the man who had never shed a tear, +could not restrain his sobs as he supported Sister Anne's head. + +"Why do you weep for me?" she said, making a final effort; "I could not +be happy, but I die less wretched. Keep my son, madame; he is so happy +in your arms! you will be a mother to him. Adieu, Frédéric--and you--his +father--oh! forgive me for loving him so much!" + +Sister Anne cast a last glance at Constance, who held little Frédéric in +her arms; then she closed her eyes, still smiling at her son. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sister Anne (Novels of Paul de Kock, +Volume X), by Charles Paul de Kock + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40133 *** |