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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m*thode. rrata :o pelure, 1 d 1 2 3 □ 32X S 6 m^ H^ pr 1 ^i,aiiii..-j f'r i N '^ f \%.*iik y / Hamilton Public Library Keference Uepartment Shelf Number SPECIAL COLLECTIONS This Book is not to be taken out of the P\oom R Q. 7, \ u ^ ■.*nr"'A%- « ^ ■/* a / /^ - THE PICTUEE fv- BY CHARLES REx\DE Al'THOR OP "it is never too late to mend" "love me little, love me lono" " hard cash " " foul play " " put yourself in his place " "GRIFFITH GACNT" "WHITE LIES " ETC. MONTREAL DAV'SON BROTHERS, PURTJSHERS 186-1 Montreal - fCf>s'^^^ . ,oX Of parliament o." Canada, in the year 1884, by Ent(;rcd according to Act of Pariiam DAWSON BROTHERS. I„ tb. Office of the Minister of Agriculture. . »- \ . 5 ^rrf r.-\ i^Vo* c. -c V tfa • '] f THE PICTURE. I. I AM now seventy, and learning something every day ; es- pecially my ignorance. But fifty-two years ago I knew every- thing, or nearly — I had finished my education. I knew a little Greek and Latin, a very little vernacular, a little mathematics, and a little war : could march a thousand men into a field, and even out of it again — on paper. So I left Paris, and went home to rest on my oars. Months rolled on ; I still rested on my oars — rested on them so industriously that at last my mother, a very superior woman, took friglit at my assiduous inactivity, and bundled me out of the boat. Slie had an uncle who loved her, and, indeed, had reared her as a child. She wrote to him, concealing neither her maternal pride nor her maternal anxieties. He replijd, "Send the boy hero, and if he is anything like you, he shall be my son and successor." Ue was a notary, and had a good business. In due course the diligence landed me far from homo, at a town in Provence. A boy and an ass were waiting for me. On these beasts of burden I strapped my effects, and the quad- ruped conducted us by a bridle-road through groves and bv purling streams to a range of hills, at whose foot nestled my uncle's villa, lawn, garden, and vineyard. The contrast was ad- mirable. The hills, with their rocky chasms, were bold, grand, ''"*% .."i THE PICTURE. M aful grim, and the little lionso, clothed with llowering creepers, the velvet lawn, watered twiee a day, and green as emerald, atid the violet plums peeping among the olive-colored leaves, were «juietly enchanting. " Oh," thought I, " what a bower for a hard notary !" The hard notary met me with open arms, embraced me, held nie out, gazed at me, said, in a broken voice, " You arc very like' vi'iii- darling niotlicr," and embraced me again. I was in- stalled ill a pretty bedroom with a bay-window, curtained out- side by a magnolia in full bloom ; pigeons cooed outside every morning an hour before breakfast, leaves glistened with dew, and flowers diffused sweet smells. Next day my uncle took me into the town to his office, and introduced me to his managing clerk as his partner and succes- sor, lie left me under charge of this worthy while he pur- sued his real vocation, bric-a-brac, lie was so unfortunate as to i)iek up a great bargain, a vile old jug ; he itched to be liome with it; so I liad no time to master my new business that day. The good cwc dined with us, and my uncle j)resented us both to hnn, jug and nephew — especially jug; but the cure was im- partial, and took a gentle interest, real or fictitious, in us both, lie was a man of learning and piety, and had seen strange and terrible things in France ; had known great people and great vicissitudes, though now settled in a peaceful village — "|?os< tot naafrafjia tuttis.^'' lie was a gentle, amiable soul, a severe iuJu'c of nothini!: but cruelty and deliberate vice, and a most interesting companion if you chose : by which I mean that lie ]»ad neither the animal spirits nor the vanity which make a man habitually fluent; but if you could suspend your own volubil- ity and question him, a well of knowledge. My uncle had two servants — Catherine, a tall, gaunt woman ; tanned, hollow-eyed, and wrinkled ; and Suzon, a pretty, rosy, brlLiht-cycd maid. Her my uncle ignored; Catherine was his favoriie, a model of industry, fidelity, and skill ; besides, she re>euiiMed anti ]ue mugs, etc., whereas little Suzon was mure THE PICTURE. 1, and were for a 2, held B very vas in- j(l out- 3 every .h dew, ice, and succcs- \\Q puv- matc as jd to be business \ us botli ! Nvas iin- us botli. ano-e and md great c — " jyost 3. severe (1 a most iXi that be ake a man ;n vohibil- it woman ; rctty, rosy, nc was bis .)eside.>, she was move like modern porcelain, Provence roses, and sucli-likc ephemeral tiling's. Siizon was always in the backi^ronnd, Catherine al- ways to the fore. She cooked the dinner; yet she must put on an apron and a cap of the past and wait upon us, even when the cure or a stray advocate from Paris was our guest, and Su- zon wouM liave doiio us credit. Ere long this latter arrange- ment became grievous to me, for I fell in love; and this gaunt creature came between mc and the delight of my eyes. It was my first attachment. I had seen a good many pretty girls, and danced with them ; but I thought them frivolous, and they took mc for a pedant. I was a poet, and aimed high. Ac- cordingly, I fell in love — with a picture — or with the goddess it represented. Mv uncle's dininjj-room combined the salo)i and the sal/e a manf/er. It was very long and broad, and the round table de- voteil to meals could be placed in any part of the room. Eight could dine at it, yet there was room for it in the great bay- win(h:)w, and it ran smoothly upon little wheels instead of cas- tors : so did all the chairs, ottomans, fautcuils, and sofas. Chi- nese vases five feet hii>'h, and alwavs filled with flowers, o-uarded the four corners of the room ; vast landscapes were painted on th(! walls, and framed in panels of mellow oak; many pieces of curious old plate glittered on the sideboard ; a large doorway with no door, but an ample curtain of blue Utrecht velvet, led into a library of choice books splendidly bound, many of them by anti(juc binders, the delight of connoisseurs. Over the man- telpiece of the dining-room hung a f)icture in an oval frame, massive, and carved with great skill and simplicity ; this frame had been chipped in places, and there was a black-looking hole on the right border, and some foreign substance imbedded. The picture was a portrait (life size) of a young lady, re- s})lende!it with youth and beauty, the face oval and forehea.l pure, the lips and peeping teeth exquisite, and the liquid gray eyes full of languor above and fire below, that arrested and en- chanted. The dress had, no doubt, been selected for pictorial effect ; for the waist was lona" and of a natural size, and the no- \ 6 THE PICTUKE. blc bare arms adorned only with dark-blue velvet bands, which set off the satin skin. h'oft sensations and vague desires thrilled mc as I gazed on this enchanting picture, and I longed and sighed for the orig- in:tl. The gaunt Catherine at dinner-time kept getting between mo and my goddess, and I hated the sight of her, and said she purposely interposed her hideonsncss between me and that divine beauty. But now, having had fifty years to consider the mat- ter, I think she stood behind her master's chair whether there was a lovesick dreamer at the tabic or not, and was intent on her duties, not my dreams. After I had thoroughly absorbed this lovely creature's per- fections, and satisfied myself that her character was as noble, arch, and lovable as her features, I found it difiicult to go on living without ever hearing her enchanting voice, or kissing her hand, or, at all events, some portion or other of her dress. So I asked my uncle timidly for lier name and address. The answer was discourao'injr : " How should I know ? I bought her for the frame, you may be sure ; it is what the fools call rococo ; that means admirable." " And so it is, now I look at it," said I ; " but oli, uncle, what is that compared with the divine effigy !" "Divine fiddlestick!" said he, "Look at her little finger, all out of drawino- !" Here was a notary against whom it could not be urged, " cle mlnbuis non curat Icxy Why, I could hardly help laughing in his face. " Her little finger !" I cried. " Look at her lips, her teeth, her eyes — brimful of heaven !" "That inspection I leave to you, young man," said my un- cle, calmly ; "but I should like to know what that black mark in the frame is." " And so you shall, uncle," said I, with the ready good-nat- ure of youth ; and thereupon I jumped on a chair, and from the chair alighted like a bin^ on the mantelpiece, and my uncle \«lack mark f good-nat- , and from 1 my uncle t'JM(Milatt.'rted : " Uncle, it is lead — a bullet, a big one. There, now, O l»ase world ! Ah, sovereign beauty, your charms have well- nigh cost your life. Some despairing lover, whom she esteemed but C(Mild not love, or, likelier still, some rival crushed under her charms, has committed this outrage. Oh ! oh ! oh ! There are some golden hair^ attached to the bullet. Horrible ! hor- rible !" " Malediction on the fools !" cried my uncle. " Why could they not fire at the daub, and spare the frame ?" lie added, more composedly, that evidently some mob had attacked the house during the troubles, and one of the savages had fired at it out of pure ruffianism. " No, no," said I ; " that does not account for these golden hairs. Oh, uncle, who is she? I will travel all lA'ance if nec- essary. Do but tell me where I can find her." " How can I tell what churchyard she lies in ? Why, it is fiftv vears since such frames were made in this now tasteless country." " Cruel uncle, do not say so," cried I, in piteous accents. " Ah, no ; they found a quaint old frame to act as a foil to her youth and beauty. I will copy her. I will make an etching of her : I am rather skilful in that way. I will send impres- sions all round France ; I will solicit information. I shall find her. She is single ; she has not found her peer in my sex. Is it likely she would? I will surround her with homage ; I will tell her how I pined for her and sought her, and found her first because I loved her best ; I will throw myself at her feet ; I will kiss the hem of her sweet robe. I will — Gone !" Gone he was, in mid-tirade, with his hands in his pockets; he escaped my juvenile eloquence, and I heard him whistling. I loved her all the more, and lived for our first rapturous meeting. 8 THE PICTUUE. Ill (liK? course another ireat many [)ictures of this peerless creature; ami the world shall have them, whether you like it or not." Catherine shrui>:i2;ed her shouhlers, and said the worM could do very well without them. *'And for mv i)art," said she, " I cannot think w hat you see so admirable in that face." " Look at it without envy, hatrefid to vou if von would help me find out where she 1 ive \li\ e she is ; mv lieart tel Is me so. Deatl 1, moi-e merci- ful tlu'iii envy, has spared those peerless features i» Catherine stared. "Who is she? — why, what docs that ^vL- THE PICTURE. 9 iiXorate lieriiio. all S u like it ic world rt," said , faeo." can, and icr arms J inatincr aluilv. ft eaturcs. 1. With cc vanity cli sNveet- ,Yn to nio, sliouUl 1)0 where she f)ve nierci- docs that matter to you? Slie is old cnougli to be your grandmother: look at the frame." *' Malediction on the frame ! You are as had as my uncle. He bouLrlit her for the frame. She is not old; she never will be old ; such beauty is immortal. Now tell me. my good Cath- erine. I dare say you have lived in this district jill your life — Gone!" It was too true ; the servant, like the master, had escaped my enthusiasm, and left me to my thev')ries. But I painted on, and loved my idol in spite of them all, utid held fast my deter- mination to discover her by publishing her features from Havre to Marseilles. One day my uncle received a very welcome letter. It an- nounced a visit from an old fellow-collegian of his, a highly distiiignishod person, a statesman, an ambassador, .id peer of Franco — the Cori*^ de Pontarlais. This thrilled me w'.'Ai ex- citement and curiosity. I had never sat at the same tabic with an ambassador. Only I feared our way of living would seem very humble, and, worst of all, that Catherine would wait at table, and get between his Excellency and our one peerless gem, the portrait of my divinity. I was all in a ihiHer as the hour drew near, and looked out for a carriage with outriders, whence should emerge a figure stri[)ed with broad ribbon and emblazoned with orders. Arrived with militarv precision an elderly jvcntleman on a mule, with a small valise carried by a peasant, lie was well dressed, but siiii[)Iy ; embraced my uncle alfectionately ; and they walked up and down the grass arm in arm, to be as near one another as possible, since they met so seldom. From the lawn ihey entered the library; and T was going thither some- what shyly, to be presented, when Suzon met me in wild distress. "Oh, Monsieur Frederic! what sliall we do? Here's Cath- erine been ailing this three days and scarce able to get about, and the master ordered a great dinner, and she would cook it, 10 THE PICTURE. and not fit to stand, and she fainted away, and now she is lying down on Ijer bed more dead tlian alive." " Poor thing!" said I. " Well, you must get a woman into the kitchen, and you put on your best cap and wait." " Since you order it," said Suzon, demurely, and lowered her eyelashes. Now, this extreme deference had not been her habit hitherto. Encouraged by this piece of flattery, I added : " And please stand beliind viy chair to-day instead of my uncle's. It is not that I wish to give myself importance — " " The idea !" said Suzon. " But that — ahem ! — his Excellency — " " I understand," said Suzon ; " you wish me to have a good look at him — and so do 1." So may a man's best motives be misinterpreted by shallow minds. Tiie next moment I entered the library, and was presented, blushing, to his Excellency. He put mc at my ease by his kind- liness and quiet, genial manner. To be sure, such men have a different manner for different occasions. He had long studied with success the great art of pleasing. Under this charming surface, however, I could see a calm authority, and in those well-cut features Voltairian finesse. By and by Suzon announced dinner, and I took that oppor- tunity to say that poor Catherine was very ill, and his Excel- lency would have much to excuse. His Excellency interrupted me : " My young friend, trust to my experience. Company is spoiled by service ; the fewer majestic and brainless figures stand behind our chairs, the bet- ter for us. The most delightful party I can remember, every- thing was on the table, or on a huge buffet, and we helped our- selves and helped each other. Why, the very circumstance loosened our tongues, that formality would have paralyzed. We puffed all the dishes, to which we invited our fair convives ; and told romantic stories about them, and not a word of truth." Thus chatting, he entered the salle a manger and \l -,rr" T-r- -. ■ THE PICTURE. 11 is lying lan into cred her ler habit d please It is not 3 a good shallow resented, his kind- sn have a studied charming in those at oppor- lis Excel- 3nd, trust the fewer 3, the bet- ter, every- elped our- 3umstance paralyzed. convives ; \ word of anger and was about to take the seat my uncle waved him to, when he suddenly started back, with an ejaculation, not loud but elo- quent, and his eyes fixed upon the portrait of my idol. The very next moment he turned them with a Hash of keen and almost suspicious inquiry upon my uncle ; then quietly seated himself at the tabic, and his host, good man, observed nothing. For my part, I was trembling with curiosity all dinner-time, and longing to ask the great man if he had seen some living beauty who resembled that portrait. But I was too shy. My eyes kept travelling from him to the portrait, and back, but I said nothing. However, his quick eye must have detected me, for, after diimer was over, and Suzon ordered to make the cof- fee, his Excellency, who was peeling a pear very carefully, looked steadily at me^ and said, " May I ask how that portrait came here?" " Oh, yes, monsieur le Comte," said T. " My uncle bought it in a bric-a-brac shop. My uncle hastened to justify his conduct — it was the frame which had tempted him. " However," said he, "the picture, incorrect as it is — just look at that little finger! — has found a rapturous admirer in my nephew there, who, you may have re- marked, is very young." "It has," said I, stoutly. "It reflects her beauty and li'r expression, and no bad picture does that. I'd give the worM to find out the artist, for then he would tell me where I can find the divine original." " That does not follow," said the Count, dryly ; " tliest fair creatures keep in one place during the sitting ; but in the course of the next forty years or so th)y consider themselves at liberty to move about like the rest or us." "Oh, of course," said I; "but such beauty must leave traces everywhere. I am sure, if I knew wlio painted the picture, I could find the -original." I will put that to the tost," said his Excellency. " Come, t( now — I painted the picture ?? Ill'' 12 THE PICTURE. I bounded o£E my cliair with the vivacity of youtli, and stood staring at our guest with all my eyes. " You !" said I, ^'^" AsTonishino-r said my uncle. Then, calmly, "That ac- counts for the little finger." , " For shame, uncle !" said I. " It's a masterpiece. Ah, sir, you must have been inspired by- AVho is she? Who was she r " She was my betrothed." itli, and said I, ?hat ac- Ah, sir, '^ho was IT. I STARED at the speaker, first stupidly, then incredulously, then with a growing- conviction that the marvellous revelation was nevertheless true; then my uncle and I, by one impulse, turned round and looked at the picture with a fresh gush of wonder; then wc turned back to the Count again and glared; but found no words. At last I managed to stammer out, " Betrothed to her, and not married !" " Strange, is it not ?" said the Count, with a satirical shrug. "Permit mo " said he, with ironical meekness, "to urge in my defence that I have not married any one else." I said I could well understand that. " Tooh !" said my uncle, " he has been taken up with affairs of state." " That is true," said his Excellency ; " yet, to be frank, my celibacy is partly due to that fair person. She administered a lesson at a time of life when instruction, deeply engraved, re- mains in the mind forever." " Tell us all about it," said my uncle, " if it is not a sore subject." "Alas, my friend," said Monsieur do Pontarlais, "after forty years, what subject is too sore to handle ? Even the tender poets versify their youthful groans. I will tell the whole story — not to you, on whom it will be comparatively wasted, but to my young friend opposite. He is evidently fascinated inchains him — as it once did me 7» ey I blushed furiously at this keen old man's sagacity, but w 14 THE PICTURE. stood ray ground, and avowed the rapturous interest I felt in a creature so peerless. Then came to nie a bcwitchino- hour. An accomplished old man told us a thrilling passage of his youth, with every charm and grace that could adorn a spoken narrative. The facts struck so deep that I can reproduce them in order; but the tones, the glances, the subtle irony, the governed and well-bred emotion — where arc they ? They linger still like distant chimes in my memory, and must die with me. " I was born," said M. de Pontarlais, " when })arents married tlieir children, and the young people had hardly a voice. At ten years of age I was betrothed to Mademoiselle Irene, only daughter of the Marquis de Groucy, my father's fast friend. Between that period and my coming of age great changes took place in France, and a terrible revolution drew near. But my father made light of all plebeian notions, so did his friend ; and, indeed, if they had listened to anything so absurd as the new cry of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity seemed to them, it would not even then have occurred to them to depart from the riu'hts of nature ; and was it not one of those rioflits that parents sliould christen, educate, confirm, and marry their chil- dren when and how they thought proper? " xVccordingly, at twenty-one years of age, my parents sent me into this very province to marry and make acquaintance with Mademoiselle de Groucy. The Marquis, a tall, military figure, bronzed by the suns of Provence, met me with his gun slung at his back. He embraced me warmly, and his dogs barked round me with the ready cordiality of sporting dogs. I felt at home directly. "The Marquis and I dined en tete-a-tete; I was anxious to see my bride, but she did not appear. After dinner we adjourned to the salon, but she did not appear. I cast timid glances tow- ards all the doors; the Marquis observed, and rang a bell, and ordered coffee and his daughter. The coffee came directly, and while we were sipping it a female figure glided in at the great door, and seemed to traverse the parquet by some undulating ■^<4I,--- IffBfcW- THE PICTURE. 15 It in a icd old charm Q facts )ut the ell-brcd distant married CO. At ne, only i friend. gcs took But my i friend; I'd as the to them, ,art from Thts til at leir chil- ■ents sent uaintance military his gun his dogs 411 g dogs. ous to see adjourned ances tow- bell, and rectly, and the great indulating movement whicli was quite noiseless, though everybody else clattered on the floor at t'lat epoch. " Instead of the high shoes, bare neck, and short, sliglit waist of the day, she was in rational shoes, and a loose dress of India muslin that moved every way with her serpentine fig- ure, and veiled without hiding her noble arms and satin bust. As she drew nearer her loveliness dazzled me. I rose and bowed respectfully. Her father apologized for this model of symmetry and beauty. " ' Be pleased to excuse her dress,' said he. ' It is my fault : they came roaring at me with news of a wild boar, and I for- got to tell her who was coming to-day.' " I said I did not pretend to judge ladies' dresses, but thought the costume beautiful. I suppose my eyes conveyed that I knew where the beauty lay. The young lady edged quietly away, and put her father a little between us ; but there was no tremor, nor painful, blushing shyness. " Afterwards, at her father's order, she poured me out a cup of coffee with the loveliest white hand I had ever seen, and, though reserved, she was more self-possessed than I was. " The Marquis invited me to a game of piquet. I was off iny guard, and consented. The beauty saw us fairly engaged, then glided out of the room, leaving ine a little mortified with my- self as a wooer; for at twenty-one years of age nature prevails over custom, and wc desire to please our bride even before we many her. "Next day M. dc Groucy, who was a mighty sportsman, invited me to join him; but, with some hesitation and confu- sion, I said I was very desirous to pay respect to my Jiancee^ and to show her how mueh I atlmiivd her already. "My host thanked me gracefully in his daughter's nam(\ in- timated that in his day marriage used to come first and then courtsliip, but said I was at liberty to reverse tlie order of things if I chose ; it would all come to the same at the end. "On this understaiidino- I devoted myself to wooinu' iiiv beautiful betrothed. She gave me no direct cncouragenieiit, !,r 16 THE PICTURE. but she did not avoid mc. She was often in licr own room ; and out of it she was o'enenilly guarded by a stately gouver- naute, one Mademoiselle Donon. But this lady had the dis- cretion to keep guard a few yards oflF, and I treated her as a lay figure. These encounters soon destroyed my peace of mind, and filled all my veins with an ardent passion for the peerless creature whose dead likeness liangs there — and it really is a likeness; but where are the prismatic clianges that illumined her mobile features? An J all of them, even scorn and anger, were beautiful ; but each softer sentiment divine. " Unfortunately, while she set me on firc,^he remained quite cool ; though she did not avoid me personally, her mind some- how evaded mine on nearly every topic that young people de- light in. She listened with polite indifference to all my de- scriptions of Paris and its gayeties; and when I assured her she would be the acknowledged belle of that brilliant city, she said, quietly, that it would not compensate her for the loss of her beloved mountains; and she turned from me to the window and fixed a long, loving look upon them that set mc yearning foi one such glance. " She rarely contradicted me, but that must have been pure indifference, for she never doubted about anything; I soon found out that trait in her character. " One day a local newspaper related a popular outrage in our neighborhood. The rude peasants in their political ardor had sacked and destroyed a noble chateau. "'Where will this end?' said I. 'Will revolutionary mad- ness ever corrupt the simple, primitive people one meets about this chateau?' " ' Why, it is done already,' said my host. ' Emissaries from Paris, preachers of anarchy, are wriggling like weasels all through the nation, with books and pamphlets and discourses teaching the common people that all titles are an aff^'ont to the ignoble, and all hereditary property a theft from those who have no ancestors. (Wait till a peasant gets a landed estate, and then see if his son will resign it to the first beggar that n1 Ii I i '"^JfiTln THE PICTURE. 17 room ; {jouver- the dis- her as a of mind, peerless >ally is a llumined id anger, ned qviiie ind some- )eoplc de- ill my de- ed her she ^, she said, OSS of her indow and sarning foi been pure ifr; I soon Lra2;c in our _ ardor had lonary mad- Inccts about Issavics from weasels all discourses Event to the those who Inded estate, be<''"'ar that covets it.) Wliy, I cauglit two of their inflaniiii;it»-iiy treatises in this very house. I>y the same token, I sent them t.) the executioner at Marseilles, with a request that he would hii'u them publicly, and charge me his usual fee for the extinct ion of vermin.' " During this tirade Irene changed color, and seemed to glow with ire; but she merely said, or rather ground out between her clinched teeth, ' Nothing will stop the march of free opin- ion in France.' " ' I am afraid not,' said her father. * Still, I have some little faith left in charges of cavalry and discharges of grape-shot.' " ' A fine argument !' said she, haughtily. "I was so unlucky as to suggest that it was one the virtuous citizens who had just sacked the neighboring chateau would probably understand better than any other. The father huighed his approval, but the daughter turned on me with such a flash of furious resentment that I quailed under her eye ; it glittered wickedly. Nothing more was said, but from that hour I learned that my glacier was inflammable. " It was not long before I received another lesson of the same kind. I ha];)pened y remark one day that Mademoiselle Do- non, the youvernante, as I have called her, must have been a handsome woman in her day. 'Handsome?' said the Marquis; 'there was not such a figure and such a face in the country- side; ;uid the late Marquise used to urge her to marry, and offered her a handsome dowrv to wed one of licr rustic, a«^o/.s'.' "'What blind vanity T said Irene. 'Those rustics are free men, and she is a menial. Such a husband would have elevated her, in time, to his own level.' " ' x\.y,' said the Marquis; 'this is the cant of the day. But learn, mademoiselle, that in such houses as ours a faithful do- Imestic is not a menial, but a humble friend, respecting and re- spected. And Donon is an intelligout atid cducnti'l v riti;!ii ; 2 w 18 THE PICTURE. slic would li.ivc really dcscentlcd in the scale of humanity if she liad allied herself to one of these uneducated peasants.' " Mademoiselle de Groucy made no re})ly, but her whole frame quivered, and she turned white with wrath. Wliitc ! She was ghastly. I looked at her with surprise, and with a certain chill foreboding. 1 had seen red anger and black an- ger, but this white-hot ire, never ; and all about what ? Her theories contradicted somewhat roughly by her father; but theories which, I concluded, she could only have gathered from books, for she rarely went abroad except to mass, and never without her duenna. Looking at her pallid ire, and the white of \u:y eve, which seemed to enlarge as she turned her head away from the Marquis in her grim determination not to reply to him, I could not help saying to myself, ' Fm not her father, and husbands are apt to provoke their wives: this fair creature Will perhaps kill mc some day.' 1 felt all manner of vague alaiiiis at a character so cold, so fiery, so profound, so unintel- ligible to me, and asked myself then and there whether it would not be wise to withdraw my claims to her. . " But I could not. Like the bird that flutters round the dazzling serpent, I was fascinated by the beautiful, dangerous creature, and neither able nor honestly willing to escape. "M'-'antime the grand and simple character of my father-in- law won my heart, and I used now and then to go out shoot- ing with him — for his company, not the sport. One day he shot a hare running by the edge of a precipice ; she rolled over, and lay in sight of us on a ledge of rock, but at a dej)th of eighty feet at least, and the descent almost perpendicular. The Marquis ordered his dogs by name to go down and fetch up the hare. They ran eagerly to the edge to oblige him, and barked zealously, but did not like the commission. We were about to abandon our prey in despair, when suddenly there ap- peared on the scene a gigantic peasant with a shock head of red hair so thick and stiff and high that his cap seemed to be perched on a bundle of carrots. Close at his heels, with nose inserted between his calves, came a ragged lurcher. This per- THE PICTURE. 19 luity if Us.' [' whole White I [ with a )lac\v an- it? Her tier; hut ivcd from md never the white her head ►t to reply tier fatlier, ir creature L- of vague so unintel- er it would round the dangerous cape. y father-in- ) out shoot- ne day he rolled over, a depth of icular. The nd fetch up cvG him, and \Vc were Illy there ap- ock head of eemed to be Is, with nose This per- sonage looked over the edge of the ravine, saw our difficulty, grinned, and with perfect sanr/-froid proceeded to risk his life and his cur's for our hare, lie made an ohlique descent, wirli the help of certain projections and shrubs, the dog sliding down at his heels, and on an emergency fixing his teeth in the man's loose trousers, till they reached a part where the descent was easier. Then the lurcher started on his own account, and witii great dexterity scrambled down to the hare, and scrambled up with her in his mouth back to his master. " But now came a very serious question : how were they to get back again ? I felt really anxious, and said so ; but the Marquis said : ' Oh, don't be afraid ; this fellow is the athlete of the district ; wins all the prizes ; they call him the champion. He will get out of it somehow.' The man hesitated a moment for all that. But he soon hit upon his plan. He took the hare up, and held her by the skin of her back, with teeth the size of ivory chess pawns; then he put his dog before him, and slowly, carefully, driving the points of his thick boots into every crevice, and grasping with iron strength every ledge or tuft that offered, he effected the perilous ascent ; but it was no child's play. The perspiration trickled down his face, and he panted a little. " I offered hiin a three-franc piece (none of them left now), but he declined it rather cavalierly, and busied himself with putting the hare into the Marquis's game-bag. He was so gen- erous as to add a little wooden figure he took out of his bosom. But this contribution was not observed by the Marquis — only by mo — and I was pleased, and still more amazed, by this giant's simplicity. " On our return we were met in the hall by Irene and her gouvernante ; and the Marquis> when he took the hare out of the game-bag, told her how it had been recovered for him by the champion and his dog. " ' What is the name of that colossus that wins all the prizes V Michel Flaubert,' said the young lady. Ay, Flaubert, that's his name — a vauricn that wrestles, (( ( U ( 20 THE PICTURE. ^:.f and dances, and poaches, and won't work. No matter; he saved niy hare, ho and his cur. I will buy that cur if he will sell Jilm. What have wc here V And he drew out the little wooden tiguic. Wc all inspected the crude image. ' It is a sports- man,' said the Marquis, 'leaning on his gun. lie will blow his own head off some day.' " Mademoiselle Donon opined it was a saint, and begged the ^larquis not to part with it; it would bring him good luck. " ' You arc blind,' said Irene ; ' it is a shepherd leaning on his staff.' And she put out her white hand, took the hideou^i statuette, and put it into her pocket. I said she did it great honor. " ' No,' said she ; ' I only do it justice. You, who despise the simple art of a self-taught man, what can you do that you have not been taught ?' " ' I can love, for one thing,' said I. And Mademoiselle de Groucy colored high at that, but tossed her head. ' And in the matter of art, if I cannot cut little dolls that resemble nothing in nature, I can paint a picture that shall resemble a creature whose loveliness none but the blind will dispute.' " ' Oh, indeed,' said she, satirically ; * and pray what creature is that V " ' It is yourself.* "'Me!' " ' Yes. Do mo the honor to sit to me for your portrait, and I am quite content you shall compare my work with the sculpture of the illustrious Flaubert.' " ' A fair challenge !' cried the Marquis, joyously. * And I back the gentleman.' " ' Oh, of course,' said his daughter. ' But the day is gone by for despising our fellow-creatures.' " ' I despise no honest man,' said I. ' But so long as educa- tion and refined sentiments go with birth, you will be superior in my eyes to any peasant girl, and why not I to a peasant V " The Marquis stopped me. ' Why waste your time in com- baiing moonshine? My daughter knows these rustics only in 1! THE PRTLHE. 21 ; lie saved 3 will sell Ic wooden a sports- 11 blow his :«cg2C( 1 the )d laelv. leaning on he hideous lid it great /ho despise io that you jmoiselle do . ' And in at resemble resemble a ispntc' hat creature our portrait, Di-k with the ay. *AndI day IS gone 3ng as educa- l be superior a peasant?' time in com- LTstics only in landscapes and revolutionary pamphlets. Oh, I forget ! — she lias seen them in church ; but she never heard them, far less smelled them. Ye gods ! when that Flaubert toiled up the precipice and brought me my hare, it was like a kennel of foxes.' " At that Mademoiselle de Groucy left the room with queen- ly dignity. She was invincible. Her way of retiring put us botli in the wrong, especially me, and I made a vow to connive at her theories in future. What did they matter, after all ? I>ut I liad gained one great point this time : I was to paint her [)icture. I foresaw, as a lover, many advantages to be gained by tiiat, and I lust no time in buying and preparing the canvas. The best -lighted room for the purpose proved to be Irene's boudoir; so I was introduced into that sanctum, and for some hours every day had all the delight of a painter in love. I di- rected her superb poses ; I had the right to gaze at her and en- joy all her prismatic changes. She was reserved and full of defence, but not childishly shy. She could not be always on her guard, so ever and anon came happy moments when she seemed conscious only of her youth and her beauty. Then a tender light glowed through her limpid eyes, and she looked at me with that divine smile which my hand, inspired by love, has rendered better perhaps than a skilful artist would have done whose lieart was not in the work. The picture advanced slowly but surely. The Marquis himself one day spared his partridges and sat with us. lie was delighted, and said, ' This portrait is mine, since I give you the original ;' and he ordered a magnificent frame for it directly. " The portrait was finished at last, and my courtship pro- ceeded with a certain smoothness; only I made no very per- ceptible advances. I never contradicted her republican theo- ries ; indeed, I was so subdued by her grand beauty I dared not thwart her in any way. Yet somehow I could not find out her heart ; it evaded me. Often she seemed to be looking over my head at some greater person or grander character. I remcml)er once in particular that I sat by her side on the ve- 1 1 ' i! i iiiiN ' a2 THE PICTURE. r.'inJa. After many atttMiipts on my part the conversation died, aiul I was contont to sit a little behind her, and watch her p:race and beauty. She leaned her swan-like neck softly for- ward, her white orow just touched the flowering creepers, and she seemed in a soft revery. I, too, contemplated her in quiet ecstasy. Suddenly slie blushed and quivered, and her lovely bosom rose and fell tumultuously. I started up, and looked over to sec who or what it was that moved her so. Instinct then told mc I had a rival, and that he was in sight. " 1 looked far and near, i could see no rival. It was tlie usual sleepy liuidscapc : a few washerwomen at the fountain hard by, a few peasants dispersed over the background. " For all that, my mind misgave me, and at last I opened my heart to my friend the Marquis. I told him I was dis- couraged and uiihai)py ; his daughter's heart seemed above my roach. " ' Fiddle-do-dee !' said ho. ' It all comes of this new sys- tem ; courting young ladies before marriage s[)oils them. They don't know all they gain by marriage, so they give themselves airs.' " ' Ay,' said I ; * but that is not all : I have watched her closely, and there is some one her heart beats for, though not for me.' " Nonsense !' said he ; ' there is not a gentleman she would look at in the district. I know them all.' " ' Dut, monsieur,' said I, ' perhaps some prince of the blood lias passed this way, or some great general, or hero, or patriot, and she has given him her heart ; for she looks above me, and docs not disguise it.' " ' She has seen no such personage,' was the reply. * Ask Donon, who never leaves her.' " ' Then,' said I, ' it must be some imaginary character too lofty for poor me to compete with ; for an i. Instinct It was tlic ic fountain ind. t I opened I was dis- 1 above my is new sys- icm. They | 1 themselves matched her though not she would f the blood ), or patriot, ovc me, and }ply. ' Ask [laracter too Q has.' e.' I her reading " M. (le Groucy lost his composure directly. ' Tiic " N<-u\(lle IK'loise,"' said he; 'and did you not lling it out of the win- dow V " I confessed I dared not. I dared do nothing to ofTend her. " The Manpiis bestowed a look of pity on me, and left the room all in a hurry, and I awaited his return in no littK- aiixi- etv. lie came back in about half an hour, which he must have spent in ransacking his daughter's library. lie reappeared with the ' Nouvelle lleloise,' a philosophic History, by 1 forget whom, a discourse on Superstition (vulgarly called lieligion), by D'Alembert, and one or two works tending to remove the false distinction civilization had invented between mcnni and tunui and the classes o^^ society. The Marquis sliowed me the books, and then invitci mc to follow him. lie went first to the kitchen, and made the cook brand these chef-iVauvrcs of modern sentiment with a red-hot iron. Then he had them carefully packed in a box and sent to the executioner at Mar- seilles for public conflagration. " Having thus cased his mind, he reviewed the situation more calmly. 'My son,' said he, 'you have tried your new- fangled system, with the result that might have been expected. Vou ap})roach the girl cap in hand, and she gives herself airs accordingly. Now we will try ancestral wisdom. Next Sun- day I shall publisli your banns in the church, and this day week (Wednesday) you will marry her; and on Thursday you will find her obliging; on Friday, affectionate; on Saturday, cajol- ing. Saturday afternoon she will probably make the usual attempt to be master — they all do. You will put that down with a high hand, and from that hour she will respect and love you with all the loyalty of her race.' " llis confidence inspired mc. Ilis affection and partisan- ship affected me deeply. I threw myself into his arms, and I remember I said, ' If she would only love me as much as I love you — ' And then my tongue faltered. " The Marquis patted me tenderly on the head with his huge ii w <\ } I 24 THE PICTURE. li.'ind — lie was a man of c;reat f^taturc — and said, 'She sliall adore you. Leave that to nic' " 1 am h(Miii(l to admit tliat so mucli of tlie proo-nmime as deixndiil on him was carried out to the letter. Tlic very next SiiiKhiy we all went to mass in state; and after the porvice the prie-^t read out I'lom the altar with a loud voice: "'Arc hetrotiied this dav, the liio-h and excellent Seio-neur rrr(.'^'(»ire, N'iscouut of Pontarlais, and the high and excellent damsel Irene do (xroucy,' etc. There was an anixry murmur from the crowd : tlK\v ohjected to our titles. The Marcjuis shrug-ged his slioulders with unutterable scorn at that, anil said, aloud, ' Monsieur le Vicomte, do me the honor to give your liand to your bride, and pass out before the rest of us.' '' 1 came forward with a beating heart. Mademoiselle de Groucy was pale, and trembled a little — she was evidently taken by surprise ; but she put her hand in mine without a moment's hesitation, and we marched down the aisle, and through the western door. But, once outside the place, the people flocked round us, and there were some satirical murmurs, at which the ^lanpiis changed color, and his eyes flashed contemptuous ire. But presently a band of about twelve broke through the mass, headed by that very peasant who hail rescued our hare for us; and he came cap in hand, and begged the Marquis to preside at the wrestling and shooting for prizes which were to take place that afternoon. " I thiidv', had it been any other applicant, the offended gen- tleman would have refused; but he remembered his hare, and the fellow's good services, and gave a cold consent. Then we turned to go home, but the crowd once riore embarrassed us, and it was not a friendly crowd. My blood got up, and, tak- ing my betrothed under my arm, I prepared to force a passage ; but she slipped from me like an eel, and said, imperiously, ' l-'laubert, clear the way.' The giant, on this order, stepped in front of us, and shoved the other peasants out of the way, right and left, as if they had been so much dirt. As soon as we were clear, he turned on his liccl with as utter a contempt M '' " "T" " T Hfsssmmsra , 'Slic sliall lo-rainine ns he very next c eervico the mi Seio'iicnr nd excellent fy\'y niurnmr riie Marquis Kit, anil saul, ,0 i>'ivc your f us.' Icraoisello do idcntly taken t a moment's tlirouii'li the cople iioclvcd at which the ^mptuous ire. thvoug-h the ucd our hare ic Marcjuis to vhich were to offended gcn- [ his hare, and mt. Then we nbarrassed us, : up, and, tak- )rce a passage ; I, imperiously, order, stepped Lit of the way, t. As soon as ter a contempt THE PICTURE. 25 for those who were not his equals in brute strength as ever a French noble showed for those who were not his equals in birth and breeding. " We walked hoine, maderaoisclle in front, haughtily, as one whom no such trifles could di^^turb ; but the Marquis sombre and agitated. He put his hand on my shoulder, and said : ' We have almost been insulted. This will end in bloodshed. I shall prepare the defence of my castle. You said a good thing the other day : grape-shot is an argument the canaille can understand. Meantime, we honor that village with no more visits. Your wedding will be celebrated in my private chapel.' "I looked anxiously to sec how my betrothed received this. She said nothing; but, somehow, her whole body seemed to hear it. After breakfast I entered her boudoir, and found her trimming a scarf of many colors with gold-lace. It was in the worst possible taste, but I dared not say so I ai-ked, with feigned admiration, whom it was to adorn. " * You, if you can earn it,' said slie, dryly. ' It is for the victor in the sports ; the swiftest runner, the strongest wrestler. You have only to eclipse these despised peasants in such marly exercises, and I shall have the honor of placing it on your shoul- ders,' " I saw she was bent on mortifying me, and perhaps drawing me into a quarrel ; so I remembered Wednesday was near, and said, as pleasantly as I could : ' Do not think I share our father's violent prejudices. I desire to be just to all men. There is much to admire in the hardy, honest sons of toil. But neither are the gentry fit subjects of wholesale contempt. The peas- ant who carves a figure which one critic takes for a shepherd, another for a sportsman, and another for a saint, could not paint your picture to save his life, and a polite duel with glit- tering ra})iers demands more true manhood than a wrestling bout.' " My words, I knew, would not please her, so I made the tone so humble and conciliatory that she vouchsafed no reply. 26 THE PICTURE. . : 'X- W iiiii. 111! I "Tlien I sat down beside Iier, and asked her to forgive me if I esteemed a little too liiolilv that chiss slic belono-ed to and adorned. None tlic less should her ophdons always be respect- ed bv nie. Tiien I added : ' Wliv sliould we waste our time on such subjects? For my part, I am too happy to dispute. Oh, if I was only more worthy of you ! and if I but knew how to make you love me a little, now that you have accepted me publicly as your betrothed — ' *' ' Say " my espouRcr^^ ' isaid she, calmly. Then I remem- bered that in liousseau's volume of poison that pedantic, sensual hussy applies this term to the two suitors she despises. I was stuno- with the scorpion jealousy, and my old suspicion revived and maddened me. ' Ah !' said I, haughtily, ' and who is the St. Preux for whom you mortify me so cruelly ? If he is wor- thy of you, how comes it he is afraid to show his face ?' "'Be assured,' said she, with sullen dignity, 'I shall never marry any one of whom I am ashamed.' " ' Of that I am sure,' said I ; ' and if ever St. Proux appears, and comes between my betrothed and me, it will be an honor to me to cross steel with him, and a greater still to kill him, which I shall do, as sure as heaven is above us.' At that time I was an accomplished swordsman. " ' Oh,' said she, ' then you would marry me against my will r " * No,' snid I, staggered by so direct a blow ; ' but I would not go back from my troth plighted at the altar; would you? The conversation is taking such a turn that I think monsieur the Marquis dc Groucy is entitled to share in it.' *' She turned pale, but recovered herself in a moment. ' That is unnecessary,' said she. ' I am sorry if I have offended you.' She drooped her head with infinite grace, and when she raised it she smiled on me and said : ' I am flattered by your affec- tion. You have the prejudices of your class, but not their vices. Let us be friends.' She held out her white hand. I fell on my knees and kissed it devotedly. *' ' Oh, how I adore you !' I sighed ; and my eyes filled with SBsoaa THE PICTUKE. 27 forecive me iigcd to and > be I'cspect- ite our time to dispute, t knew how [iccepted me n I remcm- Lutic, sensual ises. I ^vas cion revived [ who is the If he is wor- face V [ shall never cux appears, be an honor to kill him, At that time against ray but I would would you? nk monsieur lont. 'That fended you.' n she raised your affec- ut not their ite hand. I !s filled with tenderness. Even hers seemed to dwell on me with a gentler expression than I had ever seen before in them. " But just as I was making friends with her so sweetly, came a cruel interruption." These words were scarcely out of the narrator's mouth when what I thought a cruel interruption occurred. The cure came in, dripping. My hospitable uncle had his outer garment removed, and a pint of old Burgundy spiced and heated, and in his warm hospitality would have resigned the story alto- gether. But that was intolerable to me. As soon as I could with decency I said, timidly, " Monsieur le cure loves a good story as well as anybody." " That I do," said the cure, with such zeal that I could have hugged him. And in short, after a few polite spec3hes, and a reminder from me as to where he had left off, ^lonsieur do Poutarlais resumed ; and it struck me at the time that he was not sorry to have one more intelligent and attentive auditor, for indeed the good cure seemed to drink in every word. " Well, gentlemen, my courtship was interrupted by a sum- mons to visit the sports. As to the running and the shooting, 1 remember only that it was nothing to boast of, and that the prize for the latter was won by that red-headed giant, and that he came to the Marquis, cap in hand, and received a pewter mug. " Then came the wrestling. Two rustics, naked to the waist, struQ-o-lcd too-ether with more strenoih than skill. One was thrown, and retired crestfallen. Another came on, and threw the victor. Each bout occupied a long time. The sun began to sink, and your humble servant to yawn. " My betrothed was all eyes and enthusiasm, though the sight was more monotonous than delicate; but the Marquis pitied me, and said: ''You arc not bound to endure all this. The result is known beforehand. After two dozen encounters, a victor will be declared, and then " the champion " will throw him with considerable ease : the champion is that red-headed giant P ! i i ; 1 t W'.i II i! ' II 1 28 THE PICTURE. Flaubert. FTc will come forward and go down on one knee, and my dauo'liter will bestow this scarf on liim. — Brought your smelling-bottle, child, I hope ? — Then, on other occasions, I used to feast them all ; but after their insolence at the church door — insolence to you, monsieur mon r/endre — I shall admit only the champion Flaubert and his guard of honor, twelve in num- ber. Pierre has his orders : if the rest try to force their way, he will let the portcullis down on their heads. They have all been told that, and wJnj.^ " Well, I did not care to see my betrothed put that scarf upon the champion, so I strolled away, and wandered about the cha- teau. An irresistible curiosity led me to that part of the build- ing in which Mademoiselle de Groucy slept. ITer bedroom was in a large tower loidcing down upon the parterre, which was, like the hanging gardens of Babylon, full thirty feet above the plain the castle stood on ; for, indeed, it was a castle rather than a chateau. I entered her bedroom with a tremor of curi- osity and delight; it was large and lofty; the bed had no cur- tains, and was covered with a snowy sheet — nothing more. Spartan simplicity was seen in every detail. The picture, framed as you see it now, rested on two huge chairs; and at this my heart beat. On a table by the side of the looking- glass I discovered the quaint little figure Flaubert had bestowed upon the Marquis along with the famous hare. 'Well,' thought I, looking at that monstrosity and at my picture, 'that is a comparison she is welcome to make.' I was ashamed of my curiosity, and soon retired. I went and sat in her boudoir. Ilcr work was about; there were many signs of her presence; a delicate perfume mingled with the scents of the flowers. I sat at the open window. Voices murmured in the chateau, but outside all was still. Soft dreams of coming happiness pos- sessed me ; I loaned my head out of window and drank the evening air, and thouiiht of Wedncsdav, and the life of bliss to follow. I was calm, and for the first time ineffably happy. "The sun set; the castle was still; no doubt even the limited number of visitors admitted by the Marquis had re- THE PICTURE. 20 n one knee, Irougbt your sions, I used cburcli door 1 admit only ilve in num- ic tlicir way, 'hey have all at scarf upon lOut the cha- of the build- bedroom was ?, ^Ybich was, cet above the castle rather •emor of curi- [1 had no cur- othino; more. The picture, hairs; and at the lookinfv- had bestowed re. ' Well,' .picture, ' that IS ashamed of her boudoir. icr presence; e flowers. I chateau, but ppiness pos- d drank the life of bliss to y ^''-^ppy- libt even the ■quis had re- tired ; still I remained there in a delicious rcvery. Presently, in the darkness, I thought I saw a figure pass along* close to the wall, and stop at the tower a little while. Then it suddenly disa[)peared, so that it was most likely a shadow. Shadow or not, 1 WHS going to be jealous again, when my betrothed en- tered the room gayly, and invited me to supper. " ' You must not abandon us altogether,' said she, and she beamed so, and her manner was so kind and caressing, that I was in the seventh heaven directly. She gave me her hand of her own accord, and I conducted her to the salle a manyer. " ' Oh, you have found him, have you V said the Marquis, gayly. 'That is lucky, for I have the appetite of a wolf.' " A noble repast was served in honor of our betrotlial, and we did honor to it. I forget what was said, but I remember that for the first time Irene allowed her gifts to appear. What animation ! what grace ! what sparkling wit without ill-nature I what inimitable powers of pleasing, coupled for once with the desire to please ! Oh, marvellous inconsistency of woman I " Her father was fascinated as well as I, and embraced her warmly when she retired, with a sweet, submissive apology to me, saying that the day, though delightful, had been a little fatio-uino;. " Her father and I remained, and instead of our invariable piquet, were well content to sing her praises, and congratulate ourselves. " The subject was inexhaustible, and I am sure we had sat toocther more than an hour, when a great murmur of voices was heard, and Mademoiselle Donon came in with a terrified air to say that there was a tumult outside. " ' More likely a serenade on this festive occasion,' suggested the Marquis. But at that moment the great bell of the church began to peal. It was the tocsin. " ' Are we on fire,' cried the Marquis, ' and don't know it?' " I ran to the window, threw it open, and looked out. I saw flamino- torches movino- towards the castle from various parts, and heard angry murmurs. ' i ! mi \ 'I t \ ii*l' I \ 90 THE PICTURE. ' 'Sir,' said I, in no little agitation, 'tliey are going to at- tack us, as tliey did that other cliateau.' "De Groucy smiled grimly. 'All the worse for them if they do. I had the drawbridge raised at dusk, and we have plenty of ammunition.' " Here a servant came in with a face of news. " ' What is the matter V asked the Marquis. " ' They have not the sense to say,' replied the man lie ■was the master of the hounds. ' I hailed them through the grating, and asked them to declare their grievance. But the fools kept roaring " The champion ! the champion !" and not another word could I get out of them. Do they think we have taken the blackguard prisoner V " ' Stuff !' said the Marquis ; ' that is a blind. Load all the muskets with ounce bullets this instant.' " The man retired to execute this order. " ' But, sir,' said I, ' may not the champion have been shut in when you raised the drawbridge ? I thouglit I saw a figure on the parterre, groping his way about in the dark.' " ' No, no,' said the Marquis. ' If any one had been shut in by accident, he would have come to the postern, and the jani- tor would have let him out. Any stick to beat a dog ! any excuse to insult or pillage their bettors ! — that is the France we live in now. So be it. Not one of the canaille shall enter the place alive.' " ' I am at your orders,' said I, catching fire. " All these, you must understand, were hnn-icd words, spoken as we marched, the Marquis lending the way, up the great staircase. At the head of it Pierre and Guillaume met liim, with the loaded muskets and ammunition, and he then said to me : " ' You wonder, perhaps, to see me so calm, with women un- der my charge, and wild beasts howling outside. But I am a Idler, and know what I am about. This castle is simply im- r)rognable to foes of that kind except at one spot, the small posteni, and that is bound with iron. Should they battel' it T ^■K^HPS^WN^* mm mm THE PICTURE. 81 going to at- for them if and we have ic man lie through the cc. But the >n !" and not ley think we Load all the D been shut in saw a figure k.' been shut in and the jani- a dog! any s the France le shall enter iri'icd words, way, up the Liillaunie met land he then [i women un- But I am a |s simply im- )t, the small liey batter it down, tlic aperture is small ; we throe can kill them all, one at a time ; and at daybreak I will hand the survivors over to Ca^ tain Beaumont, who will be here with a squadron of mounted carabineers. The worst of it is, Vicomtc, 1 must dis- turb your betrothed, for it is only from her window we can fire upon the postern.' " lie led the way to his daughter's room, and we naturally drew back. In the passage adjoining a cold wind blew on us, and small but massive door with gigantic bolts was found to be jijar. "The Marquis turned round on us, astonislied, and for the rst time showed anxiety. lie said, in a low, unsteady voice: " * Who has opened this passage V " ' Does it lead to the parterre V said I, and began to fear J|sonie strange mystery. " ' It did,' said he, ' but I condemned it ten years ago.' " ' Full that, sir,' said Pierre ; ' 'twas I nailed it up, by your orders. I wish I knew the traitor who has taken out the nails nd drawn the bolts back.' "The Marquis's cheek was pale and his eyes flashed. *To he portcullis, Pierre and Guillaume,' said he ; ' and if any stranger comes to it from the house, kill him without a word. ■You and I, son-in-law, can defend the postern.' " Our forces thus separated, he went on to his daughter's room, and knocked gently ; there was no reply. He knocked Jouder ; there was no reply. " ' She is asleep,' said he ; ' I will go in and prepare her.' " Then I drew back, out of delicacy. " lie took out a pass-key and opened the door. " There was a man in his daughter's room. "That man was 'the champion.' " ' The champion' stoodmotionlcss, and looked quite stupefied. " Mademoiselle de Groucy, quick as he was slow, darted be- fore him with extended arms to protect him ; but the next 'moment cried, * Fly, fly for your life !' The moment she made \^'ay for him to fly the Marquis levelled his musket, and fired hRI his head with as little hesitation as he would at a wild boar. I tl t ! ii ( H ^i, ■ ?f i « J' ' 1 k , ? fc ii j * 32 THE PICTURE. " What I took to be tlie cliain[)ion's brains flew liorribly be- fore the discliarge ; tlic air was all smoke ; a licavy body rushed between the Marquis and nie and drove us apart, and the door of the condemned passage was slammed. M. de Groucy strode into the room ; I followed him. The smoke began to clear, and all things were visible as in a mist; patches of hair floated about, mowed by the bullet off the champion's skull. "Irene leaned against the mantelpiece, white as a ghost; but only lier body crouched, and that not much ; lier haughty head was erect, and her eyes faced us, shining supernatural ly. The Marquis, stout as he was, sank into a chair and trembled. "'How did that man get in here?' said he, hoarsely. " ' I let him in by the condemned door,' said she, pale but unflinching. 'Cannot you see that I love him V " ' You love that canaille r groaned the Marquis. "'I love that young man because he is a man, and has all the virtues that belong to his humble condition. He earns his bread, and I shall be proud to earn mine with him. But it is you and this gentleman who have hastened things ; you were forcino- me and hurrving me into a marriaoe without love. Xo misery, no degradation, can equal that. That is why I called him to my aid. I placed myself under his protection.' " ' I will kill him,' said the Marquis to me, with deadly calm- ness. " She came forward directly and folded her arms before him. 'Then you will kill my honor, for he is my lover; I belong to him.' "At that audacious avowal the Marquis rose like a tower, and lifted his hand to fell her to the earth. But he did not strike her. Better for her, perhaps, if he had, for words c be more terrible than blows. m n i nnce you can fall d h no lower, saui ne, marry your peas- ant, and live on his dunghill with him. You are no child of mine. I banish you, and I disown you, and may God's cuise light on you and him forever 1' " Then for the first time her proud head drooped upon her THE PICTURE. 83 ,' hovriblv be- ' body rushed and the door jroucy strode '*^1n to clear, )f hair floated :all. I as a gliost; ; her haui>;hty mpcrnatu rally, iud trembled, arscly. she, pale but .lis. Ill, and has all He earns his lim. But it is no-s; voii were hout love, ^o whv I called ection.' deadly calm- •ms before him. ir ; I belong to like a tower. )Ut he did not for words can irry your peas- are no child of ay God's cuise >oped upon her land, and that hand upon the mantelpiece. ' You w ill forgive jc one day,' she murmured, faintly. " ' Forgive you V said he, with unutterable scorn ; ' I shall Foro-et you. You arc no more to me now than the dirt I walk in. Come, my son, my only child.' lie took my hand and i|rew me away. He never looked back ; but I cast one long, miserable glance on her whom it was my misery to love and Jiate. Her white wrist rested on a high chair, her head was bowed, yet her fearless eyes did not turn from us. She was Ibeantiful as she stood there half cowed by a father's curse ; as beautiful as she had been in her scorn, in her ire, and in her happy reveries, when her lips parted with that happy smile, and it tender fire glowed in her dewy eyes." Wiiile the narrator paused, and we sat silent, looking at the picture, Suzon came hurriedly in, with tears in her eyes, and told the. cure Catherine was very ill indeed, and begging to see Ibim. He rose directly and accompanied her. " You had better sleep here," said my uncle ; " your bed is always ready, you know." " With pleasure," said he. As soon as the door had closed on him I remarked, rather peevishly, that I never knew an interesting story allowed to proceed without a whole system of interruption. The elders smiled at my impatience. M. de Pontarlais sug- gested that perhaps I felt those interruptions more tiian others. Ily uncle said : " We must take good men as they are, and thank God for them. I have known him fourteen years, yet never once to neglect a sick person for any personal gratification whatever." Then, I remember, I was half ashamed of myself, and said I generated the good cu7'e and loved him dearly, and if lie would Itay with Catherine, well and good ; but he would be coming [ack in a few minutes, and it was this perpetual va-et-vient that ^as breaking my heart and the thread of the only beautiful toiy I had ever heard told by word of mouth. 3 nr Mliilii ml J34 THE PICTURE. "Calm yourself, my young friend," said Monsieur de Pont- arliiis ; "mv stow is nearly ended. "Tlie Manjuis compelled me to leave liim, after a while, and seek rt'|)ose. 1 could not find it; I raged with fury; I sick- cjkmI with despair ; 1 loved and I liated. This is the world's hell. "Tiie first thing next morning Mademoiselle Donon e; me to the Manpiis and me, in tears, and told us she had lieard all, hut implored us not to believe one word against Irene's honor. She could otily, until that fatal night, have spt)ken to the man at the village fetes, or from the balcony of the parterre, forty feet above the ground. ' Poor inexperienced girl,' said she, ' how should she measure her words? She did not know what she was saying.' "'The pupils of Rousseau have not much to learn,' was the grim reply. " The next minute Pierre came in and told us mademoiselle had left the house with a bundle in her liand, and dressed like a peasant girl. I started up ; but the Marquis laid a hand of iron on me. 'Let her go,' said he. ' Let her taint a peasant's home; she shall not dishonor mine. Her own mother should not keep her if she were alive and went on her knees to me.' " This was the end. I stayed that miserable day, and then the Marquis sent me home. I told him I should tell my father our tempers were irreconcilable, his daughter's and mine. " ' What! tell a lie about her?' said the iron noble. 'Tell the truth, my son, and retain jm/ love.' " Well, that difficulty was solved for me. I reached home in a high fever, and it soon settled on my brain, and I was insen- sible for weeks. " I recovered slowly, and it was many months ere I could walk. Ah, fatal beauty ! you nearly killed two men : the black- guard you adored with all those queenly airs of yours — a bullet grazed his skull and ploughed his hair to the roots; and all through you the gentleman you despised lay at death's door many a day." Our friend the cure came in as these words were spoken. THE PICTURE. 35 uv dc Pont- a while, and [ui y ; I sick- j world's hell. )nou ei me to heard all, but 1 honor. She D the man at rre, forty feet aid she, ' how now what she earn,' was the , inademoi;>cllo id dressed like laid a hand of lint a peasant's mother should vuees to me.' y, and then the 'my father our line, noble. 'Tell cached home in bd 1 was insen- ths ere I could jiien : the black- lyours — a bullet roots; and all it death's door were spoke 1 ;i. He looked very grave, and said that he must stay the niirht. Catherine was, he feared, a dying woman. She was asleep jii^t now, but a sleep of utter exhaustion. My uncle was much concerned. He got up directly to no and see his faithful servant, and the story was interrupted again, as I iiad foreseen, and the conversation turned on poor Catherine and her humble virtues till my uncle returned, looking very oinm. Then Suzon came in, bearing a huge silver bowl, and this was speedily filled with wine, sugar, lemon, and spices — a delicious and fragrant compound. It was ladled out into our glasses, and under its influence I took courage, and implored the Count to finish the story. lie consented at once, but said it would have little interest for me now, since the principal figure had disappeared. " I lay a long time b')tween life and death, and even when I was out of danger my mind was confused and troubled. How- ever, by degrees I recovered a certain dogged calm of mind, and, indeed, since then I have observed in other victims of the tender passion that a brain-fever from disappointed love either kills the body or cures the heart. " My long and dangerous illness was followed by a period of bodily weakness, during which those about me seemed leagued together to know nothing about the family of De Groucy. No doubt they had their orders. " At last, one day, being now stronger, I asked my father, with feigned composure, if he still corresponded with my dear |fricnd the Marquis dc Groucy. S " ' Yes, my son,' was his reply. ' lie is in England. Ho ihas sold his property and emigrated. He came here on his %vay, and wept over you ; but you did not know him.' This inadc my tears flow\ After a while I said, * Father, she whom |[ loved so dearly — oh, father, I can bear anything now ; tell me. [cr own parent has abandoned her, but perhaps she has come ^0 her senses, and only needs a friend to save her from that wretch.' Gregoirc,' said my father, firmly, * be a man ; forget that U I ,1 M THE PICTURE. woman. She is not wortli a thouixht. She has chosen her dunghill ; let lici* lie on it.' Then, as I persisted in begging liiin to tell me something about her, he said, 'I will tell you tliis much : you have no betrothed, my poor friend has no daui;hter, and liis noble race is extinct.' "After that I maintained a sort of sad and gloomy silence, aiul all those who really loved me flattered themselves I had forgotten her; but now, after so many years, I own to you, Monsieur Frederic, that her beauty and her voice and the love I had given her haunted me, and were an obstacle to marriage, until celibacy became too fixed a habit. Even now, in the de- cline of life, my old heart thrilled at the sudden sight of her shadow there, the life-like image of one I loved too well." This set us all gazing at the portrait, and the cure in particu- lar got up and examined it very closely, and with a puzzled air. But I still thirsted for more. "Surely," said 1, "in the course of all these years, you must have heard something more about her?" ''Not a word." "Made some inquiries?" "None?" " At least, sir, you know whether she is alive or dead ?" " No, I do not." Then I began to bemoan my ill fortune. "Oh, sir," said T, " when you began your beautiful story I felt sure I should hear all about her, and where she is now ; but you lost sight of her when she was no older than I ain, and there you drop the cur- tain, and all is dark. It is all over now ; !tobody will ever tel! | me the story of her life; nobody knov s .-.nything about her." "You are mistaken," said the cure, gravely. "I know a great deal about her." "Is it possible?" I cried, wild with excitement. "Oh, how fortunate ! Ah, my dear friend, tell us all you know." " Not so. Monsieur Frederic. I must not tell you what I know as her confessor and director, but I will tell you all that I havi a rio-ht to tell. Alas ! it is a short, but terrible, history. THE PICTURE. 87 ^ chosen her d in begging will tell you riencl has no oomy silence, inselves I luid own to yon, 3 and the love c to marriage, low, in the de- n sight of her too well." :ure in particu- 1 a puzzled air. iaid 1, " in the omething more } or dead?" )h, sir," said T, re I should hear )st sight of her |u drop the ear- ly will ever tell \ct about her/' "I know a |nt. "Oh, how Iknow." ],ell you what I tell you all that terrible, history. " Well, then, for many years before I came here I liad a cnre on the other side of the mountains, and among my parish iuiuth was a family of farmers called Flaubert. The head of it wa-* a widow woman, who farmed a little freehold with ijreat ability and keenness, and kept the house with strict economy. She had two sons and their wives undf^r her roof. "The elder took after her, was prudent, laborious, and mar- ried a young woman who had a piece of land and a bit of money, and was also a managing woman. She had two chil- dren, and no more. The other son was a young man spoiled early in life by his physical gifts. He was of colossal size, yet could run like a deer, and dance like a faun ; a first-rate shot, a poacher, and the champion wrestler of the district. Indeed, he was called ' the champion' even in his own family, and they were proud of him three or four times a year, when he brought home prizes from the fairs ; the rest of the time they blushed for him. This young man's wife was a person you could not fail to remark. Her figure was stately and erect ; her carriage graceful. As to her face, it had not the bloom of youth and beauty which illumines that lovely picture. Seven years of peasant life and the hot sun of Provence had tanned lier neck and arms, and a discontented mind, which never looked to re- ligion for comfort, had imbittered her very face. I remember that even then a deep line crossed her forehead, and her cheeks were hollow, compared with that plump beauty, and her throat was not a smooth column like that. But, now I think of it, her hands, though brown with exposure, were shapely, and not like a peasant's, and her eyes and eyebrows were really superb, and her forehead and face were white and smooth as ivory. Yes, I can just believe that this picture was like her in the ^flower of her youth. Only, as I said before, when I first saw Iher she was hardened by labor, bronzed by the sun, withered, l^as I now learn, by a father's curse, and soured by infidelity. I " The Flaubert family lived a quarter of a league from the Ivillage, and I saw the wife of Michel about, more than once, ibefore I i-poke to her. Her appearance and carriage were so 1 1 ] 1 ' . ; ■ ■ 1 ;■ : 1 :h i \\' H t ' I ■ft d8 THE PICTURE. striking that I made inquiries about her of the villagers with whom I had already made acquaintance. " ' Oh ! the fair peasant !' said one. * The countess I' said another, in coarse derision of her superior ; and they told mo she was the daughter of a red-hot aristo, who had fled to Eng- land because she married a peasant for love. They gave me plenty of detail*; and you would smile if you heard the vulgar romances each narrator constructed on her true story, which, nevertheless, was romantic enough. "The widow and her eldest daughter attended mass, and I conversed with them. In due course I asked the widow if she had not another dauo-liter-in-law. " The two women looked at each other and shruo-o-ed their shoulders. 'Yes, I have, sir,' said the widow, *to my mis- fortune.' " ' Shall I not see her at mass ?' " ' Let us hope not ; for she would only come to yawn or to mock. She is a pagan, I believe, imong her other qualities.' " ' Perhaps she attends to the liomc while you are out?' " ' She attend to the home !' and both women lau^fhed CD heartily at the idea — so heartily that the younger thought it necessary to make an apology. The elder chimed in and said, in the sly way of a Provencal peasant, ' If her outside has in- terested M. le Care, I can give him a picture of her at this mo- ment. She is sitting over my fire, burning her petticoat, witli her hands lolling by her sides, making useless embroidery, or else in a pure revery. As for her household occupation, slio is either letting the pot boil over or get cold. I could not swear which ; but 'tis one or t'other.' "Of course I checked these remarks, and lectured upon Christian charity. My discourse was received with respectful silence, but my hearers seemed turned into wood. " Some days after this I was caught in a heavy rain, and the nearest shelter was the farmhouse of the Flauberts. I knocked at the door, no notice was taken ; I knocked again ; a light footstep, and the door was opened by Madame Michel. She did •.•T2*^ tS^iESBUsa THE PICTURE. 39 1 villagers with countess 1' said 1 they told mo ad fled to Eng- They gave me eard the vulgar e stovy, which, ed mass, and I le widow if she shruo-o'cd their V, *to my mis- c to yawn or to :her qualities.' (U are out?' vomen laughed ngcr thought it ued in and said, outside has in- her at this mo- petticoat, witli embroidery, or occupation, she Id. I could not lectured upon with respectful )d. vy rain, and the 3rts. I knocked again ; a ligl>t lichcl. She did ot receive me hospitably. She said, in broad Provencal, Tiierc is nobody in the house,' and she held the door in her and. Then I tried her in French. ' Madame,' said I, * I am ,vet through, and if I could, without incommoding you — ' " ' Do me the honor to come in,' said she, with perfect ac- cent and the most graceful courtesy. She seated me by the fire, and we entered into conversation. I believe we conversed about trifles, and I could not help admiring her grace and jcourtesy, and the French language, the language of politeness, which had at once recalled her to her native good-breeding. She spoke it exquisitely, notwithstanding the little use she now made of it. " I forget all our small-talk ; but I remember at last that she fixed her eyes full upon mine and said, ' Monsieur, why did you speak to me in French ?' " I answered her honestly, and with some emotion : * Be- cause, madame, I know your story from others ' (her pale cheek colored at that), ' and, to be quite frank, I came here hoping, by my advice and authority, to make matters smoother and more pleasant in this house.' " ' You would but waste your time,' said she. ' These peo- ple hate me with all their hearts, and I despise them with all jny soul. Matters are come <"o such a pitch that we endure ieach other only because we are about to part. My husband is lieir to a small sum of money, and he has purchased a cottage iand a few acres that are sold very chea]; belonging to an emi- ^f/re. We shall do very well when we are alone.' " ' You have my best wislics.' taid I ; * but I am afraid you Hre too little accustomed to fchc haii life of a working farmer; imd even your husband has never Icf rned to dig and mow a < labor like his brother; his tastes appear to be for pastimes and ^ames and — ' I " * You need not mince tho matter,' said she ; ' he is lazy, ||nd, worse still, he is fond of drinking and gambling. But it ^ all his mother's fault, with her weak indulgence; and now |he encourages him to desert his home out o' he* jealousy of |iji||ii|itM I lillil li 40 THE PICTURE. 1110. Once I get him caway from this vile woman he will stay beside mo, and lead an honest, industrious life, as I shall for hi« sake.' " I knew Michel was hardened in his ill habits, and that love could not convert him without religion. I thought it my duty to tell her so. The woman froze directly, and when I nrgcc my views she encountered me with all the cold infidelity and satire of this unhappy age. She was armed at all points by Messieurs Volney, D'Alembert, Voltaire, and others, and by licr own self-confidence. So I told her I would not argue with her, but pray for her. " 'Do you believe prayers are heard?' said she, ironically. " I told her I thought earnest prayers were always heard, and sometimes granted. " ' Veil,' said she, ' the most earnest prayer I ever heard \va> when my own father cursed me and my husband. Will God grant that V " • Not against your souls,' said I. "She shrugged her shoulders, as much as to say the excep lion was of very little value ; and I left the house defeated an: sad." " And I answer for it you kept your word, and prayed foi this perverse creature," said my uncle. " With all my heart and soul," replied the good cure. He continued : " The next time I saw her was one evening ; the whole fair. ily was there except Michel. They all received me in a friend' manner, and gave me the place of honor at a long table, abo which they were all seated, picking the shoots out of son damaged wheat for their own use. CD " The eldest son entertained me with a voluble disconr- about the markets, the price of grain ; and all the time Michc! wife sat with her feet at the fire, and her arms folded, and li head against the wall, in an attitude of sleepy disdain. " But presently there was a whistle heard in the yard, ai she started up, all animation. W I THE PICTURE. 41 >man he will stay , as I shall for hi? Dits, and that love ought it my duty ,nd when I nrgc^ old infidelity am] i at all points by )thers, and by licr i not argue with she, ironically, ere always heard, r I ever heard wa- iband. Will God to say the excep ouse defeated ani d, and prayed foi cood cure. the whole fair. d me in a friend long table, abo oots out of son: voluble disconr the time Miclic! ns folded, and li ■f disdain, in the yard, ai " * There he is !' she cried, and darted out of the door. She on returned with ' the champion,' who greeted us all, in a ud, jovial voice, with blunt civility. "' Daughter-in-law,' said her mother, * serve your husband.' " Then she cut an enormous slice of bread, and ladled a large sinful of soup out of the great pot. Unfortunately, the pot d been taken off the fire to put on more wood, and the soup as lukewarm. The champion made a grimace. J" ' Cold weather outside and cold soup within,' said he. his was not said harshly, but his mother fired up directly. i " ' Saints in paradise !' she cried, turning towards her obnox- ious daughter-in-ly.w. ' Is it possible that a woman can reach jfoixY years and not learn to keep her man's soup hot against he comes home wet and hungry ?' " The young woman just turned two haughty eyes upon iter, and said, ' It's nobody's business if Michel does not com- plain.' Then I, to make peace, said I feared that I was the per- on in fault, for I had moved the pot a little to warm my feet. " The champion — a good-humored fellow at bottom — slop- ed me, and said : ' Don't let's make a mountain of a molehill, he soup's very good if it is a little cold, and it's going to a ^^arm place anyway ;' and with this he shovelled it rapidly pown his throat. ' The worst of it is,' said he, ' that my feet arc wet through with the snow and the slush;' and he took off a pair of enormous shoes and threw them roughly towards his wife, and said, ' There, wife, put all that right for me.' ' "The daughter of the Marquis de Groucy took her peasant lord's shoes, bowed her head meekly over them, scraped the |lay from them with a piece of stick, then wiped them with a ilamp cloth, then put some hot cinders inside, shook them out •gain, and brought the shoes to her master. He received them ifirithout a word of thanks. This gave me some pain, and I joon after took my leave. Michel's wife, remembering, I sup- ose, the habits of her youth, accompanied me to the end of c court that lay before the door. I took this opportunity of ying that since she had learned to humble herself before a. :^ i I \ 11!! :il| ' I' f 11 MW^ 43 THE PICTURE. man, and do the duty of a wife so meekly, I felt sure she would some day learn to humble herself before God, who abaseth th proud and lifteth up the lowly. " What think you was the answer I received from this keen spirit, nursed upon the wit of Messieurs Volney, D'Alembert, and Voltaire ? " * Monsieur,' says she, * there are cures who can only tali religion ; there are some who can also talk reason ; you are one of the happy few who can talk reason if you choose, foi you have been a man of the world. If it is all the same to you, pray, when you do me the honor to converse with me. don't talk religion ; ^k sense.' "'I consent, madar- "' -jid I, sorrowfully; 'but you must permit me to pray for yo. , " About a fortnight after this I met the champion. He was going to a neighboring fair, dressed in his Sunday clothes. 1 asked him if he was going to compete for the prize for wrest ling, as usual. He said : * No ; this time it's more serious. Mj mother has at last paid me the eight hundred francs she has long promised me, and I am going to buy a cottage and a bit of emigrant's land — house and farm. There my wife and 1 shall keep house alone. The truth is. Monsieur le cure,'' said he, * that the women can't agree at home : my mother despises mj wife, and my wife hates my mother. We shall do better apart. " I had my doubts on that point, and thought both husband and wife equally unfitted for the labor and self-denial that laj before them ; but I kept that to myself, and all I did was t' warn this confident young man against the temptations of the fail " * Have no fear,' said he ; and went away full of buoyan confidence. " That very evening he called at my house, pale and agitate; and told me a different tale. He had been induced to gambl for a small sum, in order, he said, to buy his wife a gold chain he had lost it, and his wild endeavors to recover it by the sam unlikely means had thrown away his little fortune. One vii tue the poor fellow had — filial reverence. He told me wit! f i : \ u n n P m ti ci ■I il a I THE PICTURE. 43 elt sure she would , who abaseth th( ed from this keen Iney, D'Alembert, ho can only tall reason ; you are f you choose, foi s all the same to onverse with me^ ; * but you must ampion. He was anday clothes. 1 e prize for wrest nore serious. Mj 3d francs she has cottage and a bit e my wife and 1 r le cure,'' said he, )ther despises mj 1 do better apart, ^ht both husband 3lf-denial that laj all I did was t' tations of the fail Y full of buoyan lale and agitate: iduced to gambl dfe a gold chain er it by the sani )rtune. One vii le told me witl ,rs in his eyes of all his mother's goodness and self-denial, he said that he couldn't face her and tell her he had wasted a day what had cost her four years to save. He spoke of ving the country, and begged me to carry her his penitence shame. I said, * M7 son, I'll do better : I will take you to , and show you the depth of a mother's love.' ' Well, at last I prevailed on him to come with me to the ise, but he couldn't be induced to come in until I had made confession for him. As I expected, the mother said : * Poor lish boy ! Just tell him to come in to his supper; his mother's s shall not be closed to him.' So I brought him in. The ers received him in grim silence, but the old woman merely d : * Why, Michel, it's a pity you had not more sense ; but your own money you have lost, and no one else has a right I complain. This house is always open to you.' Then, find- his wife dead silent and terribly pale, he went to her to ke his peace with her ; but she started back from him and d : ' Don't you come near me, you vile prodigal and mad- n. You've condemned me to live all my life with these ople, who hate me, and I hate them with all my heart.' As outrageous quarrel was clearly impending, I withdrew ; but ething — I know not what — induced me to wait at a little tance, and pray for the peace of this ill-assorted couple. as ! I had better have stayed ; for, as I learned from the oth- , that angry wife reproached him and taunted him in her fury he actually raised his huge hand and struck her on the face. I" She was stunned at first, I heard, but soon uttered a wild of anguish and frenzy, and catching up, with a woman's rt|ange intent, some embroidery she had been working upon, l|b turned round and cursed them all. Rot on your dunghill, all of you !' she cried, and tore open tile door and dashed out. Then the old woman cried, 'Mind, Michel, she will dis- ce you !' and he dashed after her. ' Unluckily, she stumbled over something in the yard, and I the swift-footed champion overtake her, and seize her, and ^-m i i^'- i \ ( ; ' Mi i i"i !' , r i '. .1 t ^!H! 11 ti 44 THE PICTURE. drag her back towards the house. She screamed, she stmo gled, in vain ; but at last, by a furious effort, she half freed hoi self for a moment, and I saw her lift her hand high, and the strike the man on the breast. At this moment I was comin^ forward to interfere. " To my surprise, the giant uttered a cry of dismay, an staggered away from her, and burst headlong into the hoiis To be sure, the blow was furious, but it was only a woman hand that struck, and I saw no weapon in that hand. As fc her, she rushed the other way, and I think would have passoi me without notice but that I uttered an ejaculation of pity an concern ; then she stopped and glared at me, and I must tc! you that I tlien noticed something which Monsieur de Pontar lais has already drawn attention to — the whites of her cye^ showed themselver. ' me in the moonlight with a strange adl I may say, a terrible expression — the expression of some infii| riated wild aiiimal. MIe struck me!' she cried. 'He stnidj me! the woman wiiu gave up all for him, and braved a father^ curse. My curse and my father's be on Jiwiund all his brood] With that she darted past me and disappeared. " After a moment's hesitation I felt it my duty to enter tlij house, and make some sort of endeavor, however hopeless, repair the mischief ; indeed, I was prepared to use all the a'] thority my office gave me, and take part with great sever; against this ruffian, and all the rest who, by their animosit| had paved the way for th^'s abominable outrage. "Well, I went in at the open door; I found the champl | leaning with his back against the wall, rolling his eyes as if i'l pa; | and groaning loudly. The situation seemed to amuse his broi | er ; at least, that person was jeering him for not being able | bring his wife back by force. 'You'li win no more prizes! wrestling at the fair.' "'No,' said the colossus; *Pm done for;' and with tli still groaning, he seemed to sink half down by the wall, a; his hands grasped wildly at his breast. " Then I looked, and saw something that began to give m a THE PICTURE. 45 amcd, she stmc le half freed hei i high, and the nt I was com in, J of dismay, an r into the hous i only a woman at hand. As fc /ould have passe? lation of pity aiu^ ;, and I must tt!" insieur de Pontat hites of her eye ith a strange ad, iion of some infuj ried. ' He stnicii 1 braved a father' !vnd all his brood | ^d. duty to enter tk ^vever hopeless,! to use all the a'lj ith great sevcritj their animosit;^ ge- , _ md the champil scyesasif inpiiif ,0 amuse his brot not being able o more prizes! -,' and with tli; by the wall, a'| egan to give wi Jlrible raiso-iving. Being in liis gala dross, he had on a white Irt, and in the iniddh) of his ample bosom was something that first looked like a very large stud or breastpin made of ^ther-of-pearl. "Round this thing was a thin circle of red, fine as a hair, this red circle I saw enlarging. My experience in the army me how serious this was, and I cried, ' Silence ! the man stabbed, and is bleeding internally.' As these words left my Is, the poor champion sunk to the ground, and gasped out je more *" Je suis un homme inrdu^ In a moment they were around him, and after a few hurried words, with his moth- |s consent I took on me to draw the weapon out from the mnd. It was an instrument ladies used in that day for em- )idery. I think they opened a passage for the needle with The whole instrument was not four inches long, and the kl portion of it scarcely three inches ; but a woman's hand |d driven it home so keenly that even a portion of the handle Id entered the wound. When I withdrew this insignificant |t fatal weapon the champion gave a sigh of relief. He then iscd to bleed inwardly, but immediately the blood spurted poured out of him through that small aperture. All at- ipts to stanch it were vain, and, indeed, were useless, for his ke was to bleed to death either inwardly with pain or out- krdly without pain. I told tliem all that, very gravely, and tenderly as I could. Then the poor wretches burst out into Iprccations on the woman that had brought him to that. ^en I put on for the first time the authority of the Church. )ok out my crucifix, and I ordered them all, even the moth- jwho bore him, from the room. That grand body, so full of )od, of strength, and youth, resisted long the fatal drain, God gave me time to do his work. The dying man con- ised his sins; he owned the justice of this fatal blow, since [had raised his hand against the weak creature he had vowed [protect and cherish ; he blessed his mother and his brother, forgave his wife. Then I gave him absolution with all my irt and conscience, and he died in peace. 4d THE PICTURE. i 1 1; " Ah, my friends, who that had seen this could pride himsc on youth and superior strength ? Here was the champion c all those parts lying on his own floor, surrounded by the ju[ and mugs and plates he had won by conquering the other San sons of the district, felled by a woman's hand armed with bare bodkin. " I spare you, my friends, the miother's agony and all the so row of the house — sorrow that didn't soften the hatred, ar that you cannot wonder at. They set the emissaries of justic upon the culprit's track, and she was easily found, for no soor er did she hear the fatal news than she gave herself up to tli law. She was tried at Marseilles, and it's a wonder to me thf my good friend here does not remember that trial, for it cause no little sensation at the time. The friends of the deccaseii and the mother especially, urged the prosecution with the ii; most bitterness. The old woman, indeed, said that notliii. could console her for the loss of her son but to see the m .r deress's head roll in the basket of the executioner. I was ;ii i^| the trial, and I remember little of it except the few woii; spoken by the accused ; those words seem somehow graven ii f my memory. She wore a peasant's dress, but her demean i jl was that of a noble ; she was depressed, but dignified and ps * tient ; never interrupted, and never complained. When h time came to speak in her defence, she said : ■ " * Citizens, the public accuser has told you I killed my In; ** band, and that, alas ! is too true ; but he has told you I kill " him maliciously, and there he is quite mistaken. My husbai ^ was my all. I gave up father, friends, rank, wealth, everytliii ** for him, and I loved him dearly. He gave me a bitter prov *^ cation, and I reproached him cruelly. Then he struck meba|* barously. What did I do ? Did I seize some deadly weap ^ and strike him in return ? No. I merely fled ; and if he li r^ let me escape, this calamity would never have occurred. B he caught me, and seized me, and was dragging me back to bouse where every man and woman was my enemy. My pi sion was great, I admit, but my fear was greater, and in fear hi ta THE PICTURE. 47 ^ick, not malice. Did I seek some deadly weapon ? No ; I ick with what was in ray hand, scarcely knowing at the le what was in my hand. I believe that when the weak are icked with overi»')\VL'ring strength they are permitted to matters equal with some weapon. But can you call that ly instrument of woman's art a weapon ? Was ever a strong slain with such a thing before ? My husband died by the jer of God; I was the unhappy instrument: and I am his mourner, and shall mourn him wbon all else have forgot- hini. Even his mother has another son, but he was my all I this world. I say these things because they are the truth. It to avert punishment. How can you punish me ? Impris- [ment cannot add to my misery, and death would end it. icrefore I ask no mercy : be just.' I" Before these words, and their sad and noble delivery, the irge of wilful homicide dissolved away. The prisoner was Indcmned to two years' seclusion in a religious house. ["I visited there many times; and found her a changed )man. Pier heart was broken and contrite; she wept for [urs together, and in time she found consolation. Great was |w her humility. When she regained her liberty I became director. ' The penance I inflicted was — obscurity. For many years has gained her own living under another name, and never realed the story of her life. Some people say, with a sneer, 10 greater the sinner, the greater the saint.' But there is Ith in it. Men can go on sinning within certain bounds all |ir lives, and not feel themselves sinners ; but when they imit a crime, the world helps them to undeceive themselves, penitence enters when self-deception retires. That criminal long been a truly pious woman, humble, industrious, faitb self-denying, and full of Christian charity. On earth she )bscnre by choice ; but methinks her seat will be high in |ven." ^he good cure's words melted us all ; and now we all desired ow her in her humble condition and alleviate her lot. ^p= '■wm,^ wj.'.>- t Ji \\\ i ;r ■ ! !|1 1 ' H I m f )'■ 111 I) M » "' • I j" I ^ li; il 48 THE PlCTL'liE. But the cure would not hear of it. "No," said he. "This. is a secret of the confessional. She is vowed to obscurity, ant she must persevere to the end. But if you, Monsieur de Pont arlais, can forgive her the pain she once caused you, that woulc be a comfort to her." " Ah ! poor soul, witli all my heart," cried he, and put hi handkerchief to his eyes. After this narrative and these reflections we none of us fell disposed for small-talk, and we soon retired to bed, all but tlu good cure, who was summoned hastily to Catherine's bcdsidi by Suzon. That night the house seemed to me strangely uii quiet. I was awakened several times by hurrying to and fro But sleep soon comes again to careless youth. In the morniiii I found Suzon in tears, and my uncle himself very sad : tli, faithful Catherme was dead. After breakfast the cui-e requested us to witness the officii document he had to prepare on that melancholy occasion. II handed it to us with this remark: "The confessional has n. secrets now." Judge my surprise when I read these words " Died, the 10th day of July, 1821, of general prostration, Iren de Groucy, widow of Michel Flaubert." My uncle took the picture down. " I prefer," said he, " t think of my poor faithful Catherine as she was." I was of tli. same mind. But when my dear uncle died, and it became im own, I hung it again in a room I frequented but little. Lately, in the decline of my own life, drawing near to tlia. place where beautiful souls shall be highest, I have given tli . once-loved picture a place of honor. Being so strange a reii inisccnce of my youth, I think sometimes of poor Catherii! viewing her own picture with such grace, dignity, and plot humility ; and I expect to find that white-robed saint mo; beautiful by far than the picture which so fascinated me. THE END. ' said lie. "This to obscurity, anc ^lonsicur de Pont d you, that woulc d he, and put hi i^e none of us fell ,0 bed, all but tlit atherinc's bedsidi me strangely nii frying to and fro , In the morning elf very sad: tli, vitness the officia oly occasion. II mfeesional has ni read these words [ prostration, Iren efer," said he, " t. as." I was of tli. and it became iii; but little, iwing near to tlia: , I have given tli so strange a reii of poor Catherii dignity, and ploi: i-robed saint mo: iscinated me. .*r " \W', a^'T ■" * %'- #* 4 i %; '' ., f-l \ H *•. r 4* r. * ■% #. '*"« i