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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) LO U 1.25 1^ 1^ 2.8 3.6 14.0 1.4 2.5 Z2 2.0 1.6 .APPLIED IN/l^GE I nc 1653 East Main Street i CL. ff hat out of place in this mixed circle, though she was perfectly amiable, and well bred in her manner. On Risler's other side sat Madame Chebe, the bride s mother, who was dazzling to behold, in a robe of glossy green satin. All that day the ffood woman's thoughts had been as brilliant as her dress and she had said to herself a hundred times, " My daughter marries Fromont and Risler." For to h r mind it was not Risler alone whom her daughter married, it was the firm itself, so famous in Paris • and, each time that Madame Ch^be arrived a this conclusion, .he drew herself up so erect that the Bilk of her waist creaked like the harness of a war- horse. ^ ,^f .^^^^"trast to her husband, who sat farther ott ! ihis little man, with his glossy bald head, as round and as empty as a tenpin-ball, looked s furi- ously indignant as his wife was radiant ; this, to be A WEDDINO-PARTY AT VAPOURS. 9 sure, was but bis usual expression. This evenino- be was not so shabby as was bis custom, and bil new black coat was a proper pendant to his wife's green satin ; but, unfortunately, his thoughts were as sombre as his coat. " Why had he not been put next the bride, as was his right ? Why had tliat plac^ been given to young Froniont ? And why did old Gardmois, the Fromonts' grandfather, sit on the other side of Sidonie ? Of course, every considera- tion must be paid tc the Fromonts and none to the Ohebes, and yet such people had the face to wonder at revolutions ! " • Portunately, as a safety-valve for his indignation, the irate httle man had next him his friend Dolo- beile, a superannuated actor, who listened to his complaints with a majestic and unmoved counte- nance. _ A man may have been driven from the sta^e y *'if ^""^ "^*'°ations of managers, kept from It for fifteen years, and yet have in reserve manv impressive attitudes and magnificent poses. So on this especial evening Dolobelle felt that much was expected of him, and he had adopted a half-smilino- half-serious air, at once condescending and solemn! One would have imagined him at a feast in the first act of a new play, assisting at a banquet where all *e meats were of pasteboard. In fact, this absurd Dolobelle had precisely the air of plav^ng a part, feigning to listen to what was said, but reflly meditating only on his reply. Singukrly enough, the bride, too, had a little of tHe same expression. On her vm,n^ op^ „»„*,,. ^. cuue 10 SIDONIE. I was to be detected a certain preocci^on .r,,! -na„, a fai.t smile, as if ^.:S^S:^ Plied toT "''.' ""'^ ""^ ^«'"' """« «-t 1:^^ £r G^rSr* r™«"'='' -■■"■-■«- of Grandfa- tlier Winois, who was seated on her right. m.n -ir^u '^"''*'' *'"'" '"°"*''«'" continued the ^rood inan with a boisterous laugh, « since this h-ttle mTnx moni T r' ^""^'^'^ '^ ""''■■"^ -"to •'' "«nnery-a monastery, I fancy, would have suited her better!" Every one applauded this poor joke of the old peasant, whose colossal wealth, as well as na tive s,ewdness, inspired respect, imong he few he fanced was "little Chebe," as he called her-ll had known her from infancy, and understood hr thoroughly, while she in her turn was too recentlv endowed with wealth not to venerate rTches and t eated h™ always with an odd mixture of vene^ tion and coquetry. venera^ To George Fi'omont, who sat on her left how ever, her manner was very reserved. TWr con setm dlir '^^i^' '"^ -«'>-»- of civiliti,rd seemed hke an affectation of indifference S„T denly came the flutter and rustle of ^.s the hi" sdence and the general indication, of rising from country, who was in ^Z!^;, ^Z^ Z standing leanmg on the arm of M. Gardinois. 1 te 1 you, cousin," exclaimed the proud mother no one aas ever yet been able to read'the thought^ A WEDDim-PARTr AT VgPOURS. II or feelings of my Sidonie ! " Then the gii^^^T^ inuoh laughter passed into tlio grand sahm. While the guests, who wore invited only to tho ball which was to crown the festivities, wer'e asseni- bhng, and the orchestra were tuning their instru- ments, while the youths hovering in the doorway were mentally deciding with whom to dance, Kisler took refuge in a smaller, darker, and cooler room commun.cating with the salon. Sigisn.ond Tlanus,' h.s old fnend, and the cashier for thirty years of the Mercantile house of Fremont, joined him. Thev were alone, and could say a few words in comfort. Sigismond, old boy! I am perfectly happy 1 » Sigismond wished to express his delight but Bisler gave him no opportunity of doing so. All the joy in the good man's heart bubbled to the snr- taoe, and he continued : "Just think of it, Sigismond ! Is it not aston- i 1 r t' r''' ^'°""S ^''-^ '''^■'^ t'''-^* «°"W ••'c- cept me? I know quite well that I am old and "gly, for I am forty-four. Many another she might h ve marriec^ without counting Frantz, who ^u W worshiped her. But no-she wanted old Kisler, and she has got him. ''It all came about, too, in such an extraordinary fashion. For some time I had fancied her sad Z on of spnus. I feared lest some unfortunate love- affair caused this state of things. In vain did her motherand I talk it over together. We could Ink of no one whom she could possibly care a sou for. J- i,.a.y , Cue moraiug, m came Madame Chdbe, all in If hi i \ 12 SIDONIE. tears, to my office. 'It is you WilHom „,T. y. loves ! ' she cried And 1 if f' ''°™ *® tliif m„ /• ,, , , ^° " ""^s- Just think of t ut, my fnendl And who ever Ixeard of a man u>v,ng two such strokes of good h.ck, followU so c^ose on one another, as I have had ia ZllT^ To be admitted into the house of Fromont as ful a>fM~:nrha3::is;tn:^^rrd .epirtsSsTr-^^^^^^^^ smiltog." '"''"'" ''^^^^'i Sidomo, fiercely, but still " I swear it is true ! " answered the youn- man iiij ? '^ ^'°""' '""^ ^""^ ^^'^ S°»«- How could I mira'tir '"fll"'' ""''''' '^^''^ -* the pair in ad- dan ttethe/p^ E t "; '''*" "^" ^''^ P;„i "f®"^"®"^- -"^"t) as the two caught siffht of lusler hey separated, and Sidonie went difecthr toward her husband. ""ectly for Z" m ^ " *' '"''• " ^^^-7 one is looking lor you. Why are you not in the ballroom?" and Kist ,''-f.' ''" .^''^'"^ '^'''"^ ^^ cravat, while Kisler smiled out of the corner of his eves at 8i«. f mond, and was too delighted with tKtle h^d ± "'^O-Df^o-PAnrr at vHfovrs. ^ 13 made his badly-out b dlvfin '^' ""'"'^ "''"■" more awkward^ hnt ^ j^f "'"« ^«-'" «PPear still like the klot of a LvT „d '7' '° ""''' ''^'- accept hi™ as he ^"e:l:\::ir'T .''' moment of gratified vanity aTshe to^-e. t^r ', ' and to the left on their p'assage up : Vo^m" T fortunately, it soon came to an end for "Hi. 2 >"' «.i. w, ... 'ulJ:s~r': Jiut, my good friend," interruntp^ M„ i George, " Sidonie and I are intim Seadv C ' have eve^ reason to love each othe. " 1^,. Z' ot^L'X^^-'-'^^^^-^i-^hostiht thepfctiS^ral^^^^^^^ contmued, in the same tone • « T.lZ.r ', '^®'" Httle one; there is but one Malme'ce " '^ 'f' ™ <.ae . just like her father, a true Frfmont I » 14 8ID0NIE. Sidonie, with her eyes cast down, bowed with- out reply; but a slight shiver ran from the tip of her satin shoe to the smallest bud on her wreath of orange-blossoms. Uut the good Ilisler saw nothing. The ball, the music, the lights, and the flowers, had intoxicated him ; he thouglit every one as happy as himself, and knew and susj^ected nothing of all the rivalries and small hatreds tliat went on about him. He did not see DolobelJe, with his elbow on the chimney-i^iece, one hand on his hip holding his hat, waiting for the time to come to utilize his especial talents ; nor did he notice M. Oh^be lean- ing against a pillar of the door, more furious than ever against the Fromonts. " Oh, these Fromonts I Why should they occupy Buch a conspicuous position at this wedding"? What had they to do with it ?-and he, the father of the bride, had not even been presented to Madame George!"— and the little man cast enraged glances at his wife, who sat smiling in supreme content. ^ At this wedding, as at almost all others, the dis- tinct circles jostled each other, but did not harmon- ize. Finally, one gave way to the other. " Those Fromonts," who so irritated M. Ch^be, and who formed the aristocracy of the ball, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, a distinguished solicitor, and the old millionaire Gardinois, all retired about midnight, quickly followed by M. and Madame George Fremont. Then the bride, with her mother and Risler, slipped away, leaving M. Chebe, who had recovered his spirits, to do the honors. •> f ^i A WhDDiifa-pARry at r£roujis. 15 Througli the deserted streets the bridal ou-ria.re rolled heavily toward tlie new home. Madame Chebe talked i.u.ch, en.uuerating all the splendors of this ■neniorable day, dwelling especially on the dinner, the com.nonplace carte of which had been to her the epitome of luxury. Sidonio was half asleep in the corner of the carriage; and if Risler, opposite did not say, "I am happy," it was because his heart_ was too full to speak. Once he attempted to take m his the little white hand that rested on the window, but it was quickly withdrawn, and he sat lost m silent adoration. Once the carriage stopped to drop Madame Oliebe at her own door too narrow for the yoluminous flounces of her magi nihcent dress. A few minutes later the coach drew xip before the massive gates of an old hotel in La Kue des Vielles Ilaudriettes, bearing, above the letters of gold and blue, were to be read the words, "Wall-Papees, at Wholesale only." The bride leaned forward. Had not all the lights been extinguished in the enormous building surrounding the court, Risler would have seen he smile of tnumph that irradiated the pretty, enin- matieal, contradictoiy face. '= The noise of the wheels was deadened bv the hotel'oTtto^'r- "''T "'"^^ ''' '« *he smal fln! r*T, '*"■"''• ^' ""^^ t^*"-"' o'^ the lower floor, hat George Fremont lived, and the RisleL were to nonnn^r fl.^ o^^^^j mi , . -Li-JoieiH Ij v^.. =.v.uxiu. xne House, simple as 10 mDONIE. I HI I it was, 'irtd yet Ui -> . of luxury that niglit, lent by the magntH<'4)nt liow\ -b and slirubs that lined the Lall nnd sfaircasc. While Ki§]or surveyed his new home in Bupremo content, {^iitti'onie retreated to ]ier boudoir. l>y the light of tho i'o«' "olorod chandelier r^^e first care- fully surveyed herbvjlf in the long mirror, and then calmly turned to examine in a leisurely fashion each detail of this, to her, unwonted luxury. This examination over, she threw open a \vindow and stepped out on a balcony. The night was clear and mild. By the waning light of the moon she saw the whole of the manufactory, with its thou- sand windows and numerous chinmeys. At her feet lay the small but exquisitely-kept px&^. All around were black and narrow streets. Suddenly she started. Below, off toward the left, in one of the most wretched of all the crowded at- tics, she saw a window in the fifth storv thrown widely open. She knew it instantly — it was the staircase window of the floor which her parents inhabited. How well she knew it I How many things the sight of it recalled I How many hours — how many lays indeed — had she passed there, leaning from this window without a railing or a balcony, looking toward , the manufar>tory 1 She fancied she could at that distance detect "little Chebe's " small head, set in the frame of the win- dow ; and all hor past life seemed to unfold before her — ^her childho ^ ^nnd^ worse than all, the sad youth of a poor gi,j l ih( jity of Paris, lent by ned tlio 5upremo IJy the rst ca re- nd then fashion '. This ow and as clear )on she bs thou- cly-kept streets, the left, ^ded at- thrown was the parents V many Y hours 1 there, ig or a ^I She " little he win- l before the sad CHAPTER 11. STORT OF "in ITT!' miVJ^nr," iniLE CIIEBE "—THREE FAMILIES ON A FLOOB. apartment Thp 'f .5f ^^'^^^ ^'Y tlicm as another Oh^i: ^"^ y ^ ^^'^ "^^" «"io^^'e. When ^Mlffl^ i^ / * ine child obeyed her ffladlv part of tZo^jT'T! 'Z' 'T' '°™'"^ "° roofs and chimneys and n r!I ^ ^^"^ ^^^^^^ la^ cool and fresh among the duln .,""'"' superannuated bnildin<.s "^ "^^"^ ""'' i....n.o luomQ^ which were always gloomy and I i in I ^ij IS SID OKIE. sunless, and wellnigli intolerable when it rained, and lier father could not go out. Ferdinand Chebe was indolent, and always form- ing plans to make a magnificent fortune. At Urst he had imposed on his wife, but after repeated dis- ai-)pointments she learned to estimate him at his real value, and refused to attach any importance to his wild dreams. Of the comfortable little dowry, brought by her and wasted by him in foolish specu- lations, there remained but a mere pittance: a camel's-hair. shawl, sacred to great occasions; the laces she wore on her marriage-day ; and two dia- mond buttons, small enough, certainly, but still so brilliant that Sidonie often implored her mother to open the white-velvet case in which they had lain for thii'ty years or more. M. Chebe had been years seeking some active employment— his health, as he affirmed, not allow- ing him to lead a sedentary life. It must be ac- knowledged that in the early days of his married life, when his business was prosperous and money was plentiful, when he kept his horse and his groom, he was thrown from a carriage and se- verely injured. This accident had served ever since as an excuse for all liis indolence. One was never five minutes with M. Chebe that he did not say in a confidential tone, " You remember the ac- cident that happened to the Due d'Orleans?" and he added, invariably tapping his own bald head, " Pre- cisely the same thing liapi)ened to me, my friend- precisely the same thing!" STORY OF -LITTLE CUkBEy street was being laid out he fcH ^f ^ "''"' as she ironed the house-linen "V T '''^' day in the sire 1, ?"' """^ P'^^^'' ''^^ «'« fofhead^rr'e^rrfhiVotri^n^^^^^ cakes under his arm f^>. i • T f ^^ *^^® ^^^ pennies and ttit^::f''^«^«'^^P-t a few es% rs r h: Tuf ir^'^ ^"^ ^- The poor wo„.a„ made no l"e th^r /T ? so thoroughly understood the art ofl ' * t^ o.dwt..eshre;'3:,;s^^^^^^^^^ ..„ Opposite the Chebe door were too !'ln ^" me tot, a card, fastened by four small nails, 20 SID NIB. bore the name of " Kisler, Designer of Patterns for Manufacturers," and on the other was a small sign, with this inscription in gilt letters : "MADAME DOLOBELLE. BEETLES AND HUMMING-BIRDS. >» The Dolobelles' door was always wide open, and showed a large square room, where two women — mother and daughter, the latter ahnost a child — la- bored assiduously at one of the thousand small in- dustries by which Paris supplies the civilized world with articles of taste. At that time it was the fashion to ornament hats and ball-dresses with those brilliant beetles from South America, and with those dainty birds whose breasts glitter as if set closely with rubies and em- eralds. This was Madame Dolobelle's specialty. A wholesale house, to whom the goods were con- signed from the Antilles, sent them at once on their arrival to Madame Dolobelle. When the cover was lifted, a dull, dead odor, and a fine arsenical dust, filled the room. The beetles were piled one upon another ; the birds were closely packed, each with its wings stretched on a bit of stiff paper. All these were to be mounted — each beetle must tremble on a bit of wire ; the ruffled plumage of the humming- birds was to be smoothed, and two pearl beads in- serted instead of the eyes that were no longer there ; and each tiny creature must be made to assume a life-like position. The mother did her work under STORY OF '^ LITTLE CHp.BB." 31 her daughter's direction ; i<^^W^I^lI~^^^^^^~^^^ young, bad such exquisite taste, sueli originalltj of mve,^:on, that no one could arrange the bWs as slie acciS,rtlr>,'7-'"''"''^' '" '^^"^^^"^"ee of an of hertfi 1 . '"r>"° ™^ ^''''''''^ "'« beauty of her refined face, Desiree had acquired, in conse- b," d " H '" rf "-^^ ™-obility,\ cert'ain h^- that the natural beanty of her wliite hands was un- injured Iler beautiful hair was always caTefunJ arm-chair, before a table that was covered with faslnon-plates and birds of all tints, finding sime compensation in the elegance of her en^lfy" „ f.;-- the poverty and anxiety of her life She knew that all these little wings would -Ht er at Parisian /^to, and, by the fashion In whi t she would arrange her birds and her beetles ilwa^ easy to divine her thoughts. On her sad S tZ days the wmgs were widely spread, as if eaglr fbr cre^l^;?; r' f-ious enough to bear th? lit& creature far away from this poor abode, and petty ha;;?':hVr'%,^* °""^ ''™^^' -•>- ^^--^ happy, the tiny things themselves looked radiant hke a very caprice of fashion. ' Happy or unhappy, D&ir^e toiled on with un- flagging energy ; from sunrise until far fnto tb« n.ght the table was piled with work. W rday cism.=o.., ouudame Dolobelle lighted her lamp, -fTT" 22 SID ON IE. and, after a light repast, the two resumed their labors. The indefatigable women had but one aim — one fixed idea in life^and this was the dramatic success of Dolobelle, From the unfortunate day that he had left a pro- vincial theatre, to play comedy in Paris, Dolobelle had expected some manager, cleverer and less igno- rant than others, to discover his genius and offer him a position worthy of his talents. Perhaps, in the beginning, Dolobelle might have found some employment in a third-rate theatre, but to such an idea he would not condescend to listen. He pre- ferred, he said, " to wait, and to struggle ! " And shall WG show our readers how he struggled ? He passed his mornings in his chamber— often in his bed— rehearsing his former Toles^ and his wife and daughter shudderod with terror, as they heard some tragic speech loudly declaimed. After a late breakfast the actor sallied forth, well brushed and perfumed, and wandered up and down the boule- vards until night, his hat a little on one side, and a toothpick between his lips. The matter of costume he regarded as of the hio all that his kind- e watched Fremont's rden, the ve in the ler admi- be house- i^orkmen ; irned far profound the voices reorge, as m Risler 5how me md now, thetic in- ned over Qt of the 'k-rooms, his own :his para- ad often his little ), on the !M 89 occasion of a chiUren's balTtliat sbc ^i^^Z^„ for Cliristmas-week. ^ ^ At first M. C1.6be gave a curt refu,^l. "He t^.c e Fromonts, wbose name was never out of R.sler s mouth. Besides, it was a fancy-dress ball and he, unfortunately, did not sell wall-papers, and consequently could not aftbrd to dress hi daughter pro,„i r: , ,''"' ^''r "^^^^"^ ^-^ •'"'■•etted, promismg to take everything upon himself, and a once proceeded to design a costume. It was a memorable evening In Madame Chdbe's apartment D&irde Dolo belle pres,ded over Sidonie's toilet. The room wt of cotton lay on the table. The little girl, in her short skirt of red flaI.Hel striped with Walk stonH grave and e.ct before the mi.^or. She w^'it mg The bodice laced with black velvet over a Mir fell from a broad-brimmed straw-hat Thn reTn'f K "f "''"•^ ''^'^"^ °' Sidonie's cistume w^Je win y *' '^^"'^'^ '"'<'"«<'°' fe«« and by W b^lSs :k a?mir2 "^ ^^^^^^ herself to t n • '.^''°" '" '^' *^«^' ^"^ ^e^med tainmen wl -tT'^u '* *' *'^°"g'^' "^ an enter- tamment which she should never see. The creat man appeared. He made Sidonie repeat the^ loundeonrtfifiTrTiriii^i, i.^ T-_ 1 , , . ^ "^*^ V^^- ^, .^..^ ..,; Hau taugiit iier, and showed 80 8ID0NIE, her how to enter a room, and to pay lier respects to lier hostess. It was trnly droll to see the accuracy with which the child obeyed these instructions. "She has the blood of an actress in her veins!" cried the old actor, enthusiastically; and, without knowing why, that great blockhead of a Frantz felt ready to cry. A year after this happy evening, had any one asked Sidonie what flowers decorated the rooms, the color of the furniture, the name of the waltz that she heard as she entered the house, she could have answered in turn each question correctly. She forgot nothing, not one of the costumes that whirled past her ; she still heard the childish laugh- ter, and the sound of the little feet on the waxed floor. For a moment, as she sat on the red-satin sofa, and took an ice from the tray which an attentive servant held before her, she thought of the dark staircase, the small, ill-ventilated home of her parents, and it all seemed to her like a distant country left behind forever. Every one thought her charming, and petted and caressed her. Claire Fromont, a small marquise, in pink and blue, presented her cousin George, a magnificent hussar, who turned around every minute or two to see the effect of his sabretache. " You understand, George, she is my friend ; she is coming to play with us on Saturday. Mamma has invited her." STO/iY OF ''LITTLE CIlkliKy 31 And in tlie joy of lior hapi)y little heart Cluiro embraced Sidonie with velieiueiiee. Nevertheless, the lionr caine to leave. Through the dark street— where the snow was silently falling --lip the narrow staircase, and in the dull room where her mother sat .vaiting, the child still beheld the glittering lights ufthe ballroom. "Was it beautiful? did you enjoy it?" ques- tioned her mother, as she unfastened the brilliant costume. And Sidonie, overwhelmed with fatigue, slept as she stood, and began an alluring dream then and there that lasted all through the da>« of her youth and cost her many bitter tears. ' Claire Fremont kept her word: Sidonie went often to play with her in that lovely garden, and examined at her ease the gilded aviary. She knew each corner of the huge factory, and played there many a game of hide-and-go-seek on a quiet Sunday afternoon. '' Everybody loved her without her ever evincing much affection for any one. As long as she was in the midst of this luxury she was gentle and happy; but at home again with her parents, looking at the outer walls of the manufactory through the cloudy win- dow on the corridor, she felt a pang of inexplicable anger. ^ Sometimes she drove to the Bois in that beauti- tul coupe, and occasionally she was invited for a week to the country-house of Claire's grandfather. Thanks to Eisler, « , WHO was very proud of the girl's 32 SIDONIE. success, she was always well dressed. Madame Chebe spared no pains, and D6sir^e was always ready to employ in her little friend's service her own marvelous taste and ingenuity. M. Chebe, always hostile to the Fromonts, con- templated with contempt this increasing intimacy. The truth was, that he was never asked himself; but this reason he naturally never gave, and only said to his wife : " Can't you see that the girl is always sad when she returns home, and that she passes hour after hour m idleness, looking out of the window ? " But poor Madame Cli^be, so unfortunate in her marriage, had become improvident. She maintained that one must enjoy the present • seize happiness as It passes, since often one has in .fe, for support and consolation, nothing but the remembrance of a happv childhood. "^ For once M. Ch^be was right. I. Madame was always vice her own omonts, con- ig intimacy, himself; but only said to 78 sad when ir after hour nate in her maintained lappiness as support and > of a happy CHAPTER III. After two or three years of intimacy, years in which Sidonie acquired with marvelous el e uxu f f we^2 S f! • Tr^ "^~ ^' "^^ 01 wealtH, the friendship was suddenly broken nn The two children promised to love each othpr .] oldpr ^1 / ^ ^^"""^ ^"'^s grew taller and sf.«p-... „-.! ^. '"''"® *° '•"" a^ay at once. Tl,„ ->.6" =wu ^moarrassed her with questions. " '" 84 SIB ON IK Where did she live ? Had she a carriage ? Hearing them talk of their convent, of their mutual friends, Sidonie felt that she lived in a world apart — a thousand leagues from theirs ; and a mortal sadness overwhelmed her, above all, when on her return home her mother spoke of entering her as apprentice to a Mademoiselle Le Mire, a friend of the Dolobelles, who had in a neighboring street an establishment for the sale of imitation pearls. Eisler thought well of this plan. " Let her learn her trade," said this kind heart, " and by-and-by I will furnish her with capital to start her in business." In fact, Mademoiselle Le Mire talked of retiring in a few years. One dreary morning in November, her father took Sidonie to the fourth story of an old house- older and blacker than their own. On the lower door was hung, among twenty other signs, a small glass case, covered with dust ; within were some neck- laces of imitation pearls, yellowed by time, and the pretentious name of Angelina Le Mire surmounted the whole. What a forlorn place it was !— a narrow stairway, and narrower door; a succession of small rooms, each sunless and cold, and in the last an elderly wom- an with a false front of curls, black-lace mitts, read- ing a tumbled and soiled number of a magazine, and appearing somewhat out of temper that she had been disturbed in this lively employment. Mademoiselle Le Mire received the father and daughter without rising ; spoke at length of her lost STORY OF '^ LITTLE CHkBEr 35 social position, of her father, and o7a faithless ag^t who had run away with their fortune. She, there- fore, became extremely absorbing to M. Chebe, who felt a keen interest always in all such incidents. With difficulty he tore himself away, telling his daughter that he would come for her at seven in the evening. The new apprentice was shown into the still empty work-room, and was placed before a lar^e drawer of pearl beads, in which needles and scissors, bodkms and cheap novels, were thrown pell-mell Sidonie had only to sort the pearls, and to strino- them in little bunches of equal length, to sell to small merchants. The other young ladies, ma- demoiselle said, would soon be there, and would show her just what to do; and mademoiselle re- treated to the farther room, where she spent her life reading romances. At nine o'clock the work-women arrived, five tall, pale girls, faded and worn, miserably dressed, bi>. with their hair exquisitely arranged, as is the custom among the working-classes in Paris Two or three talked, between their yawns, rub- bmg their eyes, and saying that they were dyinr. for want of sleep. Then they went to work at a W table, where each one had her drawer and her tools! An order had just come in for some mourning orna- ments and they must hurry. Sidonie, who had been taught her duties by the head-woman, in a tone ot infinite superioritv, beiran to strlnc, ....i. a quantity of black pearls. iCiiUl 36 SIDONIE. The others took no notice, other than an inquisi- tive stare, of the new-comer, and were soon deep in gossip over a marriage that was to take place that day at a church round the corner. *'Let us go," cried one dark-ejed girh "It is at noon exactly ; we shall have time." And at that hour the five girls snatched their shawls and rushed down the stairs like a whirlwind, leaving Sidonie to eat from a corner of the long table the dinner she had brought with her. The girl thought it dreary enough, and her life intol- erable. At one, the work-women returned noisy and gay. "Did you notice the richness of that white silk? And the veil of real point? What luck for her I" And they continued to chatter in the work-room, as loudly as tliey had done in the church, where, un- awed by tlie solenmity, they had examined each toilet in detail. A rich marriage, jewels, and fine clothes, were the themes of their discourse. But their fingers flew as they talked. The black walls of mademoiselle's close rooms no longer bounded their horizon. Their hopes and wishes had over- leaped tliem. " If you were rich, what would you do ? " said one. " Do ? Why, I should have apart- ments on the Champs-filysees, and drive in my carriage. 5> From her corner, Sidonie listened in silence, handling the black beads with the delicacy and pre- cision of touch she h^d learned from Desiree. When her father appeared at night, he received STORY OF '^LITTLE CUtBE:' m mqiiisi- )n deep in place tliat "It is at 3hed their diirlwind, ■ tlie long ber. The life intol- y and gay. 'hite silk? for her!" k-room, as rhere, un- ined each , and fine irse. Biit Jack walls bounded had over- N^ould you lave apart- JQ in my n silence, r and pre- Desiree. received 37 many compliments ou^^^T^^^^^^^^^^ .j^-^j^ Henceforward, one day was like another; the only difference being, that some days she worked on whi e instead of black pearls, or she strung red beads that looked like coral, for Mademoiselle La Mire used only imitations and tinsel-and it was thus that ^'little Ch^be" took her first step in lifT For some time, the new apprentice, younger and better educ- .d than the others, found herself in solitude among them. Later, as she grew older, she was admitted to their friendship and confidence, ^vithout ever sharing their pleasures. She was too proud to run through the streets to witness a mar- riage, and when she heard of their suppers and their dances, she shrugged her shoulders with disdain Our visions soar higher than that, Sidonie, do they Sometimes, toward the end of the year, she was obliged to send her father home again without her and remain with the others to finish some pressS work Under the flickering light of the gas, the! sl^s "^'^'^^^^ ^'^"* P^^^^^> white'as'tW seves, gave one the heart-ache. It was the same fragile brilliancy. They chatted of the thelie and^masked balls, and the peai-ls rattled as ti:; middle of the day the apprentices slept, or one of lie girls borrowed a magazine from their mistress and read aloud to the others. n^^stiess, But Sidunie cared little for romances; she carried 88 SIDONIE. one in her own small head, infinitely more interest- ing than any she could hear read. Nothing had obliterated her interest in the fac- tory. Each morning, as she passed on her father's arm, she examined it carefully. At that hour the chimney belched forth thick volumes of black smoke. She heard the busy hum of the laborers, and the strong iind rhythmical strokes of the machinery, and all these noises were confused in her memory, with the recollection of fetes and of blue coupes, " The child is not looking well, Madame Chebe; she must have some amusement : next Sunday we will all go * "-0 the country I" These parties of pleasure, arranged by the kind- hearted Risler for Sidonie's especial pleasure, only depressed her. In the first place, she was obliged to rise at four o'clock — for the poor buy all their pleasures very dearly. There is always something to be ironed at the last moment ; a trimming to sew on ; to rejuvenate the everlasting little lilac muslin, with white stripes, that Madame Chebe conscien- tiously lengthens each year. They start all together, the Chebes, and Eislers, and the illustrious Dolobelle. Desiree and her mother do not go. The delicate girl, mortified by her infirmity, prefers to remain in her arm-chair, and her mother stays with her child. Besides, she has no toilet in which to appear by the side of that great man, her husband ; she would have destroyed all the effect. At first, Sidonie was somewhat gay. Paris in .i B interest- n the fac- jr father's hour the ,ck smoke. 3, and the lachinerj, memory, le coupes, le Chebe ; iinday we the kind- sure, only IS obliged 1 all their something ng to sew ic muslin, conscien- i Hislers, and her irtified by irm- chair, ssides, she e of that destroyed Paris in STORY OF ''LITTLE CHiJBE» 39 the early mist of a July morning, the stations filled by well-dressf3d erowdo, the country seen from the car-windows, the exercise and the fi-esli air, the per- fuine of flowers, the green turf, all raised the youn/' girl s spirits for a few moments, but her heart soon grew weary as she thought of the triviality of her amusement. ;• It is always the same thing over and over agam ! she said to herself. In fact, Sidonie found but one pleasure in these Sunday excursions ; and that consisted in feeling herself admired, even by the simple rustics whom she met on the road Sometimes Risler, with his brother and "little Chebe, deserted the rest of their party, and wan- dered into the woods and meadows, to gather flowers and trailing brand .s; these were to serve as models for his wall-papers. Frantz, with his long arms pulled down a spray of hawthorn or climbed on a stone-wall to gather some wandering vine that pleased them by its careless grace. But it was by the side ot a river or running stream that they found their richest harvest. For in the damper soil grew tall, flexible plants whose long, slender stems threw out luxuriant masses of leaves ; and reeds of a rich brown, or a wild convolvulus with its bunches of brigat-blue flowers. Risler grouped his leaves, his buds and flowers, as if Kature alone had done it, tying his bouquet with a wide blade of grass, and hung It oyer Frantz's shoulder, and on they ;ent I isler talking all the time of subjects and comb nj '1 f J i 1 ^ 1: 1 ■ 40 SID ON IE. " Look," said he, " at tliat cluster of lilies of the valley, with its greenish bells, peeping through that branch of wild roses! Don't you think it would have a pretty effect on a ground of pale gray ? " ^ Sidonie cared little for lilies or roses. Wild flowers were but weeds in her eyes. She remem- bei-ed those m the conservatory at Grandfather Gar- dinois's, and thought of the rare plants growin- in the majolica vases on the balcony. Those were^'the only flowers she loved, so you may fancy that she cared little for the country. These recollections of the chateau de Savigny came to her at each step. If they passed a pavk- gate, she cast a lingering glance up the straight avenue. The green lawns, shaded by tall trpes, vq. called other trees and other lawns. These glimpses of unattainable luxury made these excursions infi- nitely dreary to her. I3ut returning home utterly overwhelmed her. The small stations in the vicinity of Pans are on such evenings fearfully crowded and uncomfortable. Eut M. Chc^be was in his element • he bustled about, complained of a train that was relayed for two or three minutes, and threatened loudly to call on one of the directors. " Imagine " he said in a blustering tone, " such a thing happen- mg in America ! " And the noble actor answered with a shruff of the shoulders, " Precisely I " The single word, thanks to the wonderful talent of the comedian, conveyed to the gaping spectators if. STORY OF '' LITTLE CH^BE:' 41 the idea that the two men had just returned from a voyage around tlie world. Seated by Frantz'e side, his enomous bouquet half in her lap, Sidoi.ij remained for a long time absolutely silent ; contemplating the black masses of trees agamst the skies, a long country road, and the crowd that came and went occasionally through the glass doors of the waiting-room, the young girl caught a glimpse of a train that Hashed by without stopping ; then came the one that her party was to take, and they hastened to find seats. How dusty and uncomfortable it all was!— the tumbled, soiled dresses of the women, the men red and warm. A thick white dust obscured the one lamp, and hunc^ hke a mist over everything. Sidonie pushed up the window at her side, and fixed her eyes on the loner rows of trees as they glided past. Soon, like count''- less stars, they saw before them the street-lamps of Paris. This melancholy day of pleasure was at last over, and each member of the now silent party be- gan to think of to-morrow's toil. Sidonie rebelled at this contemplation, and envied the rich, to whom each day brought fresh amusements ; and vaguely, as in a dream, peopled the fair avenues she had seen, with a crowd of well-dressed men and women, who were amusing themselves by watching the citizens who, in the face of heat and dust, and so much discomfort, had persisted in seeking a holi- day. From her thirteenth to her seventeenth birth- dav. such wns RirlnnJ^'a T«.^r,^+^, i-j?- -»» -• ^. vui-^ « isiviivtviiuus iXLu. ivi rvGame 42 SIDONIE. Cli^be's cashiTiere sliawl was a trifle more woi-n, and the lilac dress was irretrievably shabby ; these, and an additional inch to Sidonie's lieight, were all the changes. Frantz now treated the girl with silent adoration, which she alone, of all their little circle, failed to detect. Nothing interested her ; slio performed all her duties silently and mechanically. Frantz, on the contrary, worked with singular energy ; it was easy to see that he proposed to him- self some end and aim, and succeeded so well that at twenty-four he received a government appoint- ment. On the fevening of that day Risler invited all the Chebe family to go to the theatre. He and Madame Chebe exchanged a constant succession of nods and signs. On coming out, Madame Chebe resigned Sidonie to the care of Frantz with an air that seemed to say, " Now, settle it all between you— it is your own affair." And the young lover was quite ready. The- walk was a long one, so Frantz began by speaking of the play. "I like those," he said, "in which there is some sentiment ; don't you, Sidonie ? " ho asked. " I don't care," she answered, "what the play is, if the dresses are pretty." In tnith, at the theatre she thought of little else, and the scene simply inspired her with a wild long- ing for wealth and power, and she took away with her only new models for a dress, or for the arrange- ment of her hair. ore M'oi'Ti, by ; those, ;, were all girl with their little [1 her ; she laiiical ly. 1 singular id to him- well that : appoint- ed all the I Madame nods and resigned at seemed it is your ly. Tlie- speaking in which lie?" ho e play is, ittle else, did long;- way with arrange- STORY OF "LITTLE CH^BE» 43 The exaggerated toilets of the actresses, their very walk and attitudes, ahsurdly conventional, seemed to her the perfection of elegance and dis- tinction. The crowded house, the carriages at the door, all delighted her. Her lover continued : "How well they played that love-scene!"— and, as he uttered these words, he bent tenderly over the pretty little head in its white hood. Sidonie sighed : " Ah ! yes, the love-scene. The actress wore superb diamonds." There was a moment's silence. Poor Fi-antz had some difficulty in explaining himself. The words he sought came not at his bidding, and ho felt himself growing very cowardly. " I will speak," he said to himself, " before we turn the next corner." But Sidonie began to talk on such indifferent subjects that his declaration froze on his lips. At last he said suddenly : " Listen to me, Sidonie— I love you " ^ This same night the Dolobelles had sat up very late. It was the habit of these courageous women to make their hours of toil as many as possible, and their lamp was the last to be extinguished in their quiet street. They always waited for the return of their hero, for whom they kept a small, comfort- ing supper hot. "When he was playing— years before— naturally and Wisfilv AnAnfTll fln'a V^«1^,V 1,^,1 1 .1 , -, - -^. --..^„j^^ ^^i„ iJttLfiL HUM uuen auoptea, lor 44 SID ONI E. is ^i Le was o ,l,gcd to Uine early and lightly. Uut Dolo- belle Lad not played for a long tuj; yet haS "o nght, as he said, to reli„ani.h tl^ dltl f careful ly retained the habits it necessitated of which h hot supper was by „o .ncans the leLt ^ 1 able lo retire without it would have been to a nut hnnself coaBE» ^_ 45 marvelous journeys to an iinaginary world, wli^o she always returned a happy wife on the arm of Irantz. Even her fin^rers shared the radiaar>e of her dream, and the little bird whose wings she was spreading looked as if he had just arrived from a troi)ical land of fruit and flowers. ^ The door suddenly opened. I "Do I disturb you ? » asked a triumphant voice. Ihe mother, half asleep, started up. "Ah I It is only Frantz-come in. You see we are waiting for papa. These artists, you know are always irregular in their hours. You will wait and sup with him ? " "I^o--tlianks," answered the youth, wliose lips were stdl white with emotion, «I will not waif I Baw your light, and came only to tell you-to infonu you of a great piece of news, because I know you love me-in short, I have come to tell you that i^ rantz Risler and Sidonie are engaged."* " Just as I was saying to D^sirle that you only needed now a little wife to be perfectly happy " cned Madame Dolobelle, congratulauug the Gun- man heartily. o j o Desir^e could not speak. She bent her head ower over her work, and as Frintz was absorbed in Ills own happiness, and her mother had eyes only lor the clock, no one saw tae young girl's emotion, nor her sudden pallor, nor noticed the violent trem- bhng of the little bird in her fingers, whose wings drooped and head fell on one side like a creature nrvauQuu Lo aeatii. I 1 ' i,il ' CHAPTER ly. STORY CF "Lrrri-E crfBE»_TnE FmE-FLIES OP SAVIGNY. Tr nn ft 'P'"'*-- ^™"<^P^ liad been out of tem cousin has become a m «T^^ i ^ P.' ^^^ides, my u Q J J 'J«^t.ome a man of busmess in thesp ^n^ri "Suddenly grandpa turned to mp '^^.7 up, mv dpflr qnri To *^ ^" ^^^' cheer us tll%« kM ^ ''™'"'' ^°'' ^« «" "^od some- . *' ^^v^nj is only a lovely desert Tn fl.« to my room, throw ofiE all my wT put onnV "* dress and feed the chickens anHir, TI T i^^&^''"^« nearatha"nd,t^^I loT^l waid to that as some amusement. George and my STORY OF '^ LITTLE GUMEr 47 father will both be here more, and you too— for you are going to answer at once, and tell me what dav welTSr;- ^ ^''^^T'^ ^^^ were\"ot!4t5 wel , and the air here will do you a world of ^ood. iinpatf:n:r°' "'^"^^ ^^^'^^^ ^ ^- ^^-i-th "Claire ." Her letter was finished, and Claire Fromont put on her wide-brimmed hat, for the August sun was very hot, and went herself to place it in the little box on the park-gate, from which the postman ■ would take it the following morning, m kindly breeze whispered in the girl's ear a warning to pre- vent her sending that fatal letter, and she hurried back to the house to prepare for Sidonie a pretty room next to her own. The letter reached its destination, arriving in ±;aris the next morning, and was duly delivered to bidonie. What an event it was ! They all read it over and over again, and for the next week it lay on the chimney-piece with Madame Ch^be's more precious relics of the past. To Sidonie it was like a romance full of enchantment and of promise. There was no talk of her marixage now-every one was absorbed in her toilets for the chdteau; every one was busy in cutting and sewing, while sht. her- self was all the time occupied in trying on her new dresses. Unfortunate Frantz I How all these prep- arations made his heart ache I This visit to Savic^y would postpone his marriage. It was in vain "f or mm to oppose the plan, and he saw Sidonie slipping 48 8ID0NIE. % i ifls w 'If each day, as it were, from his grasp. Once at Sa- vignj, who could say when she would return ? It was to the Dolobelles that the unhappy lover went with his melancholy forebodings; and he never noticed how D&ir6e, as soon as he entered, made a place for him at her work-table, with eyes cast down and scarlet cheeks. For several days the beetles and birds had been laid aside. The mother and daughter were em- brmdenng some rose-colored flounces for a dress of Sidonie s, and never had the lame girl sewed more diligently, for she inherited much of her father's hopeful heart and powers of self-deception While Frantztold her of his disappointment and of his fears, Desiree thought only that, were Sidonie onee far away, he would fall into the habit of com- ing to her for consolation. Perhaps, too, a Imppy night would come when, as they sat alone waiting for 'papa," Irantz would realize the difference b^ tween a woman who adored him and one who mere- ly permitted herself to be adored. _ Consequently, the impatience she felt for Sido- nie s departure lent to her needle such e.rtraordi- nary velocity that Frantz watched the ruffles and ruches piling up about her with almost a feelin- of Latred-for Sidonie's departure was only delayed until the rose-colored dress was finished. When the last stitch was taken. Mademoiselle Chobe left for Savigny The chdteau, built in the time of Louis AV had an air of sombre magnificence. It stood m the centre of a large park, and the trees surround- uy.ii e at Sa- n? 57 lover le never made a st down ad been jre em- iress of d more father's mt and 5idonie f com- happj raiting ice be- mere- Sido- •aordi- !S and ing of jlajed 3n the ft for Loui8 stood ound- STOnr OF ^^ LITTLE CH^BE:^ ■M 49 wf« '1 TT"^"^ ' Y the^i;;;^;^;;;;:;^;^ was a lovely river that ran through the grounds Unfortunately, the manners and ap^rancf of tt present proprietors did not correspond with the aristocratic air of the chateau. The wealthy tradesman, after buying the estate from Its impoverished owners, cut down many o^ the trees "to open a view," and then built a Lh wall to keep out intmders. But his tenderest solici- tude was lavished on his vegetable-garden ^ Of the salon, whose white panels were finished day, of the lake, whitened by water-lilies; of thegrot- toes and bridges, he thought nothing, save when his guests went into ecstasies over them. Advanced in years, he could neither hunt nor fish, and passed his ^me in superintend- .. the most minute details of this enormous proj ... The gi-ain Math which the poultry was fed, the number of bundles of straw piled in the barn, served him to scold about for a ong summer's day. And certainly, when one he- held from afar off this beautiful spot, the shininc. nver and green turf, the trees and the flowers, one would never have suspected the meanness and nar- row mmd of its owner, who lived there throughout with^hTm ' "^^""^""^ '""^^ ^^'^' ^^^"^^''^ Madame Fremont was of a gentle nature, but dull and without cultivation, intimidated from her birth^ by her father's brutal disposition. She was -x^xu, coo, 01 u,.r husband, whose goodness and con- 50 SID ON m Btant indulgence had never succeeded in winning the entire confidence of his wife. Having always been kept in utter ignorance of business-matters, thcj had grown lich almost without her knowledge, and without the smallest desire on her part to profit by it. Her superb apartments in Paris and her father's chateau were equally a burden to her. She always gathered ^^er skirts about her closely, and made it her study to take up as little sp; e as possible. She had but one passion, one pursuit in life: she was simply deranged on the subject of cleanliness and order, and brushed and dusted, pol- ished and rubbed, everything she could get hold of. ^ When she could find nothing else to clean, this singular woman took out her rings and chains, rubbed down her cameos and loosened her jewels from their settings. At Savigny she amused her- self by picking up the twigs in the avenue, by dig- ging out the moss between the stones with the point of her umbrella, and would have liked to dust the very leaves on the trees. M. Fromont had no attachment for Savigny, and only Claire loved the beautiful pai-k. She knew its every corner, and had her favorite walk, her own tree, under the shade of which she read or sewed. She spent the whole day in the air, and went into the house only when summoned by a bell to her meals. In the folds of her dress lingered the freshness of the summer's day; and her soft, limpid eyes seemed to reflect the sparkle and glitter of the lake near which she had wandered in solitude. STORY OF •• LITTLE CIlkBEy wmumg always matters, >wledge, :o proUt Lnd her to her. closely, spiice as rsuit in )ject of ed, pol- lold of. clean, chains, jewels 3d her- by dig- e point ust the Lvigny, . She J walk, 'ead or ir, and ■ a bell tigered r soft, glitter litude. 61 The beanty of the plac^^I^^^^^^^;;;:^^^ above the vnlgar routine of the day. Her .rand father might fret and f .me before her for houT o gether ; he m.ght tell her anecdotes of the duplicity and mdolence of the servants and tradespeojj Her mother might enumerate all her gr erand complain of the ravages n.ade by moths !ndm"e by dust and dampness ; but not a syllable w^a re membered by Claire. An hour by tl/e river-si e or a rapid walk on the turf, and her mind was tn calm and her t.mper unsoured. ^ Her grandfather regarded her as a creafure otally out of place in his family. Wll ate , chdd, she annoyed him by a certain steadfast Took n her big gray eyes, and by a w^ay she had of set tling every subject by the question, "Is that right"'> She IS just like her father," he said to hhn^elf tastP T 2 f' """' ^'^^ ^"^''^^ ^^^^'^ to his taste. In her he recognized a kindred soul a .ature as amb tious and unscrupulous as his own Ibe young girl flattered him in a hundred adroi ways. Her frank adoration for his weali itr ou po^n longings for riches, were a constan't delight to him She amused the old man, too, by certain Blang phrases, reserved for his heaing alone S wh.hac^^^^^ When Sidonie arrived itfp». n i i • -—- - ^" ^^e extreme of the mode, her f\ a *i' 02 SWONIE. ii prettj figure and intelligent, mobile face, she had a great success. Old Gardinois was astonished to see this tall young girl, instead of the child he had ex- pected,^ and thought her infinitely more attractive than Claire. Sidonie had both grace and style; but she lacked the calm beauty of her friend, the purity of expression, the sweetness and repose of manner, that characterized Claire. Sidonie's grace, like her costume, was of inferior quality. The material was often imitation, always cheap, but made up in the newest style. The girl was radiant as she drove up the avenue. She had been in a dream of dciight all the morning! She took in 6ach luxurious detail. The liveried ser- vant who opened the carriage door, the glitter of the dinner-table with its silver and glass, the hot- house flowers, even Madame Fremont's indolent way of giving orders to the obsequious maid, de- lighted her. Ah! yes; this was living, indeed! Th's was the existence for which she was made ! In a day or two she almost forgot that she was a stranger, and looked on this luxury as her own. Suddenly, to arouse her from her dream, came a letter from' Frantz, that recalled her to the reality of her posi- tion, and to the fact that she was about to marry a poor man who would install her in a dark and dreary home. Should she break off her marriage ? She could do so, of course, but might she not regret the step afterward ? STORY OF '^ LITTLE CH^BEr 53 i 5 ! In tliat small head many singular ideas had taken firm root. Sometimes she contemplated Grandpa Gardinois, who in her honor had aban- doned a certain old Test and gaiters, with a very smgnlar expression. "Ah! if he were only some twenty years younger!" she said to herselt\ But this notion of becoming Madame Gardinois did not last long. A new person and a new hope entered upon the scene. r >-u Since Sidonie's arriyal, George Fromont, who before had yisited Sayigny only on Sundays, had taken up the habit of coming daily to dinner He was a tall, slender fellow, distinguished in appearance and manners; an orphan, he had been brought up by his uncle, M. Fromont, who in- tended that he should be his successor in business, and also that he should marry Olaire. This future so carefully arranged for him, depriyed him of all ambition. From the first he disliked the manufac- tory; as to his cousin, there existed between them a certain mtimacy, arising from common tastes and in erests, to say nothing of early companionship. Jiut there was no loy^on his side, at all events. With Sidonie he felt at once timid and anxious -anxious to produce a good impression, and too with her studied graces, to please a nature like his • Bt hlllTnrrtfdr" ''^ '''''-'''''' ''^ -^'^ ^^ When the two young girls sat on the hanV ,>f me ruer, it was always Sidonie who listened for t-,. 54 SID OKIE. the whistle of the coming train, and George's first ground, but who, by her studied attitude and con «p.cuous costume, seemed to demand attentLT Ihere was no word of love between the two b"t every snnle and glance was full of silent avowl and encouragement. avowals of ?r ""X^Yy ''^'"""g-the «- was full friends left tl A > ^"^ oppressivc-the two taends left the table as soon as dinner was over and paced up and down the avenue. George foined them and the three chatted on indifferent^uCs sTeps IV %' P^'""^^ S™*«<^ ""-J-- *-•■• Blow' wait togetherl^bllartr;, th'S^onTylr ,? A damp soft wind blew in their faces. The lit- t^ lake nppled and dashed in minute waves atainst the arches of the stone bridge TIib „„! • . Kme-trees filled the air withth^ir^^f L" Id^a _ " Look at those lovely fire-fiies I " cried the vonno. giri, embarrassed by the long silence. ^ ^ vJr or *''' ^^^ «^'"<^' ^d the small, greenish l-gnts. She stooped to take ,ne on her flng!r ■tie came anrl trplf ox v-_ . , , ^ * Kneit at iiur Biae ; close together STORY OF ''LITTLE CII^BBy 55 ?e's first lie back- tnd con- tention, wo, but avowals i^as full le two "^er, and joined objects, r slow yeorge led to de be- d not le litr gainst 8 and md a e air • they bent over the turf, and looked at each otlier by the light of the fire-ilies. How strange and lovely she was in that singular reflection which illuminated her forehead and rippling hair I He threw one arm around her, and, suddenly feeling that she yielded to his embrace, he pressed a long kiss on her lips. '^ What are you looking for ? " asked Claire from the deep shadow behind them. George could not speak, but Sidonie rose from her knees with the greatest calmness, saying, as she shook out her skirts : "Fire-flies only— see how many there are to- night, and how they glitter ! " Her eyes glittered, too, with extraordinary brill- iancy. " It is the coming storm, probably," murmured George, still struggling to restrain his emotion. In fact, the storm was close at hand. In a moment a whirlwind of dust and dead leaves flew from one end of the avenue to the other. All three ran into the house. George tried to read a paper, while Madame Fromont cleaned her rings ; the young ladies occu- pied themselves with their embroidery ; and M. Gardinois played a gams of billiards in the next room with his son-in-law. How long this evening seemed to Sidonie ! She had but one desire, and that was to be alone, free to think her own thoughts. But in the silence and darkness of her own room what transports of joy filled her soul! Georije loved her — George Fro- 66 aiDON-iE. mont the LoiV /vfTi ~ I ^ -— vermi nature the first IhL * . '° *^'« ''"'e on', thoughts of aXt;/,;°- -'' -keuod ty, « ho tS trni\r'' f :'^''°-'« --- «^-eno in the ZZri^I "'"^ '^'"^ ''^ "^« '^"'^f the ardor of his oI,i'l7,r '''» ,«f '"^ «^««' tored as he pre.«ed h ! ll . , ' """''^' ""'' ^^ "'- "ot the «ro.fli: 'own fer hi t" . ^'" "'^^ ''"^ eyes? All „i„.|,t tCv r }T^ "' ""«" «« his e/es; the park tj f^n'T!^ '^^f'"-« I'er closed looked from the l7jo^ ^ *""• ^'eepless she ^ith the tiny areatoi T~. /'7 '''' ^'''^ '•^diant torches asse,Lrd to 1 , ''"^"^ *<=■» ^""^y •George and herSf °''°'' *° ^''^ '"^"•-i'e of co^tr^C^eoSet^dtT ^ ^'^^ -« t-in- Would 1,: Zry heTf o !^ "'' ''"■ worldling was bv no rl ^^ *'''*' ""^ httle did not alarm her ShTr; '"'' ''"' '^''* doubt which she had to dea?r. ''""'' *^« "'>'"■•« ^^th proper amount of r^ La^ce"" ''^'''"^ '"^^^ *« -n^^e the affair JraTI^ ^ "« ^^ *» • . «f-- found thi'srhtt^s- ''-neeeasar,forberto:Seat?:/r iiifir BTORT OP " LITTLE CIlkSE.' S7 ncBuvre so that she might go^^U^^M^^^^^^a She wa8 not mistaken. She found a letter da.np with the dews of the evening, and so white in W^ snTpS. '''' "" ''" " ^"^"^^ '-' ^^^^ t Then, when she was alone, what joy to open it- decipher Us minute characters, to see the words tha to her dazzled vision seemed to be surrounded with blue and yellow circles, as when one gazes at the sun m noonday 1 *> 2 ^n T -7^°'^ ""^ ' " ^"-o'o George. that tL '^ r' ''"'^'-'- ^"t' ^''«" «l'e felt that the game was hers, she wrote simply, « I will love no man but my husband." 1 i 1 ■ 1 CHAPTER V. HOW "little OIiAbe's" 8T0BY ENDS. Sewembee arrived, and with it a large number of guests at the eMteau. They were mostly vulgar interested S.don.e. The days were beginning to shorten perceptibly, and the evenings ^ere dlnp bait {' '" '"''' 'P°'*™'^" ^"-o SM to drive back m their carnages, and, after a hurried toilet assembled in the well-lighted drawing-rooms. ' Claire Fromont was very reserved and quiet annoyed by the distasteful assembly in which shl' found herself. But Sidonie was /uite i:'::' et ment. Her complexion and eyes were more than ordmanly brilliant, and the admii-ation of the people flS ed r"'' T7 T"'^ ^''''^''"^- Her suceL hmshed George's infatuation; but the more he ad- vanced the more she retreated. From that moment he swore she should be his wife. He swore it to himself with that exaggeration of repetition which characterizes those weak natures who determine to hght in advance with those objections to which thev are conscious that one day they will yield. This was the most glorious moment «f " Uffi,. now^^ LITTLE CHkBE^S" STORY B^DS. number '• vulgar pecially ling to 3 damp drive toilet, » quiet, cli sbe er ele- e than people success lie ad- onient it to which ine to 1 they 59 Ch^be's-life. For, above and beyond her ambitious projects, her iiiHincere and ('oquottish nature pri/ed this clandestine love-affair that she was brinLnn- to so triumphant a conclusion. ^ m one suspected anything of it. Claire was at taat healthy and charming season of youth when the mind, but half developed, sees onlv what is spread widely open, and suspects no concealments or treacliery M. Fromont thought of his business, his Wife of the dust among her jewels. It was only M Gardinois whom Sidonie feared, and, " after al If he were to suspect anything," ,h. said to her- selt, he IS not the man to betrav me,' She tri umphed, when suddenly a catastp-r^ic, toully un- foreseen and unsuspected, came to c!i :;trc-v all her hopes. '^ One morning M. Fromont was brought in mor- tally wounded ; he had received the full charge of his own fowling-piece in his temple. The chdteau was in confusion, and the party dispersed in every direction Claire, crazy with grief, was in her father's room, when Risler, informed of the catastrophe, came to take Sidonie away. On this last evenin-' 8he had a final interview with George-an inteit view saddened and solemnized by the near presence ot death. They promised to love each other al ways and agreed on some plan of correspondence, and tnen they separated. Sidonie returned home under t!ie care of Risle.- who was in flpflrkQi'i. . -P^« <•!,_ J-,n4.T, £ -u. ' cxiii Oi Ills mastei* •ievable loss. She and 111 m 'II 60 SIBONIE. was compelled to give to her mother and the Dolo- belles each detail of her visit, to enumerate theXt and the toilets and, fl,>ally, to describe the Zl S aster at the end. The pain and agony this cost a:z:,i:r ^ ^"^-' - ^- ^-^"/for snenc: Frantz took his old place at her side, and his words and tender looks drove her nearly mad for the youth naturally claimed certain rights as hronfr''^ «nd impatient lover, and Sidonie Bhrank from even the touch of his hand. The day arrived at ast, however, when indecision was no longer possible. She had promised to marry Frantz that tins was now done. She must marry him or give hnn a reason for her refusal. In this dilemma she thought of D&iree. Although the lame gW ad never opened her heart to her, Sidonie thofougjlj comprehended her love for Frantz. Had the ci^ cumstances been different, the knowledge, perhaps tha another woman loved \..r fianciVZ^ hive made him more endurable to Mademoiselle Chebe Jastaswe place statues on tombs to render them' ess sad so did the pale, pretty face of D&irde on iZ hreshold of Sidonie's dismal future make t a " r less dreary and hopeless. ^'^ But now she grasped at this, as furnishino- an easy pretext for releasing herself from her promise. „ ^ 's impossible, mamma," she s,.i,l, one day ; 1 will never consent to make Deshve so unhappy ■tlave you not noticed that. Bvor <.;n„o .„„ .„.._: %Ji ffOW ^^ LITTLE CHEBE^S- STORY ENDS. 61 ehe Las been pale and sad, and that she watches me with eyes full of entreaty and reproach ? JS^o, I wdl not do her this wrong. Poor Desiree ! " Al- though Madame Ch^be admired her daughter's kind and generous heart, she thought the sacrifice too great for her to make. "Take care, my child! we are poor, and a man hke Frantz does not present himself everv day." '" ['So much the worse, then, for me ! At all events I will not marry him," cried Sidonie, and repeated her words without wavering to Frantz himself. He grew angry, as she would give no reasons, either to hnn or to his brother, though her mother whispered mysteriously to the elder brother that she was proud of her daughter, and add. -^ under a promise of secrecy, that it was on Desiree's account. " Do not utter a word of reproach, my boy " said Risler to Frantz ; " she is an angel." " Yes, an angel I " sighed Madame Ch^be, in Buch a way that the poor fellow decided to leave Pans, and he immediately sought and obtained a position at Ismailia, on the works at the isthmus of Suez. He departed, knowing nothing of Desiree's affection, and yet, when he went to bid her farewell her love was plainly to be read in her clear blue eyes. Fortunately, some suffering souls are endowed with infinite patience. Her friend gone, the lame girl, with the courage and hope inherited from her father, toiled on industriously, sayiuir to herself with a gentle smile, " I will yv^it I " and from that I": 63 8ID0NIE. r i i li ti moment her bi.ds' wings were widely spread as if th„re about to take flight to'E^" 'tW lettei-a letter at once eomieal and toucLin- • a S"wUrt'""T' -P--''--^ t-de^ss mixed with the most commonplace details of the vessel m which he was to sail. ^ ther laughed nor cried at this letter, for many otW thmgs filled her head. Si.e had become ve™ louscer George's silence. Since she haStla' T.gny she had,not received one line fron. him het own letters elicited no response. It was true' tSa she had learned from liisler that George wLoeou Fed day and night, for his uncle's death'had thrown ior , out not to write one word ! c if ^ From the window in the corridor, where she had again resumed her silent watches (f^r she Tad r^ 1 nquished her position at Mademoiselle La Mire'st S-donie caught many a glimpse of her lover she ' aw him going iu and out of the manufactc^; and m the evening watched him enter liis carriarre r. h„ omen to the train that was to take h mtolv :„'; where his aunt and cousin were passing thS months of their mourning ^ ' the real d, tauce between herseJi and her lover She could almost make him hear the sound oT^^r HOW ''LITTLE CHEBE^S'' STORY ENDS. C3 voice; only a few stone-walls divided tliem ; and yet, how far off he was I One snowy night that winter Kisler entered Madame Oh^be's apartment. "News!" he said "great news ! " George Fromont had just informed him that, in obedience to his uncle's last wishes, he was about to marry his cousin Claire, and that, as it was impossible for him to carry on the business alone, he had resolved to take him into partnership, giving to the new firm the name " Fromont & Kis- ler." Sidonie never knew whence came the strength that enabled her to keep her secret, when she learned that the manufactory had eluded her grasp, and that another woman was about to take her place. What a miserable evening ! Madame Chebe sat at the table before a huge basket of ho^isehold linen, while her husband was in front of the fire. The lamp burned badly ; the room was cold, and an odor of cooking hung about it ; but Kisler was gay, intoxi- cated, in fact, with joy. For many a long day Sidonie lay ill, dangerous- ly ill. As the sick girl lay in her bed and heard her windows rattle behind her curtains, she fancied that the carriages rolling past were bearing Claire and George to their wedding. This fancy brought on paroxysms of nervou3 weeping, which puzzled her nurses and physicians. Finally, her youth and good constitution tri- umphed, and, thanks to the tender care of her ...ji^vi aiiv* o^cDiicu, \yu{j uy tiiis time uaa learned ji • •; fl ' 64 SIDONIE. ;i I! •; 1 \ ll hmk ■H 1 ^^KtK^ ■if ■ii ^^S^ "'' . lit. the sacnhce that had been made for her, Sidonie rose from her siok-bed ; but the girl was ou o " ! ts and weary of her life. Sometimes she talked of c.ded to enter a convent. All her friends watched her tenderly, more anxious about her now than hey Lad been when her ailment had been merely physf cal Suddenly she acknowledged her secret^o h r mother. She loyed the elder Kisler ; she had neyer dared to say so but it was he whom she had alwlys rucklfth^'p ?"""^- ^^^^^^""^ -- --d- yount 1-T' " T'' *'^'" """y ''^''^'^ •' but the him with such tender eyes, that it was not long be- fore the good fellow worshiped the yery ground ot wbch she stood. Perhaps, too, this a&f^ion ba" omy lain dormant m the dim recesses of his heart And now, dear reader, you understand why, on the evening of her marriage-day, Madame Eisler, in her ghstemng white raiment, looked forth with a smile of triumph at the window where for the last houis. That haughty, contemptuous smile was evi- dently bestowed on the poor child whom she fancied i7ti7prr ''""^' ''^ "^''^''"^^ «^ '-^^ --s^* ^. "]^'l' T y°" "'■'ying. little Ch6be?" mur- mured bidome. « You see I am here, after all." BOOK II. CHAPTER I. "my wife's eeception-day." The manufactorj-bell has just rung; it is noon, and mothers hurrj lioine to their babies, having an hour of leisure, wliile Risler and his young partner Creorge Fromont, stroll leisurely through the L^ar- den toward the pretty home they occupy under the same roof. They are talking earnestly on iheir Dusmess-affairs. "You must look out," said Fromont, «or we shall hnd the Prochassons dangerous rivals." Risler had no fears ; he knew his own strength, and had had vast experience. " Then, too," he add- ed--" but this is confidential-I am on the track of a new invention that will be a fortune in itself" By this time they had crossed the carefully-kept garden, with its acacias almost as old as the house itse f, ana its superb ivies that veiled the h-^avv walls. "^ By Fremont's side Risler looked like a clerk ren- dering an account of the day's transactions. Ho i'i" ■' ""^'J ^^^^ ^^W° to unian a sentence^ for liia ( ;|-f 66 BID ON IE. fi ill words came My. He had no idea that a pretty laoo ^as loobng at him It.rough the curtains of a window m the upper storv. cpme to lunel>, and was very i.npatient at his delay She beck-oned to him, '.ut Kisler did not see hS kce and nbbons. How pretty the lictle creature was Your very image, Madame Georse ! » _ Do you think so ? And yet almost every one thmks her more like her father ! " of Z''' 7T^^"' ^'™' °^ '=°"^'''- '^"'-" and all of them-fatii«-, mother, Risler, ar,d tlie ...rse- gravely examine th, atom of humanity, who look= at them m turn, with wiU...por, wo/derin. ev thtTe .n ,' '"" Y °P- «-''"«:. 'o -e what come up. "'^' ' ''""^ '"'■ ■^"*^'"'^ ^"^^ »<" Kisler had just taken the infant into his own arms, ana stood, enveloped in the floating robes and blue nbbon. trying to win a smile or a coo of de- ight from th. child. He looked like its grand- father <• How old the poor man is groJng!" thought Sidonie; -'and how absurd he ifoks pL. ".g with that baby ! " At last, tired of waiting^ sTe sent her maid to say that lunch was waiting. K,Z consigned the infant to its nurse with eWdent re- gret, and ran up the staircase, laughing like a school- boy. He laughs sfll as he enters the dining-room but one look at his wife checks his merrimenl Z y -m CK "Mr WIFE'S J!ECEPTIO.V-Z>Ay:' was eated at the table, a dmfing-clish in front of her he knew that she was thorouH.ly out of t per by her martyr-like air ° ^ °^ '^'"- " How of ' K "' "^ ^^^'- ' ">=•* '''"W is . .1" dear ? - " """ ^ '° '"^^ ^"^ »«' '° call me ' my 'VBiil if we are alone?" I am not a Fromont and Thf .^^ ''^ ™'"«' " I?„t J^"^'"°'"' ana f have no carriage 1 » i3ut my dear-I beg your pardon-I mean- you can always use Madame Georo-e's o.J„r V lias told von flmf ,v • 1 ^'-"^ftt.s coi//?^. bhe "An, 1, i ""'^^'^ ""^ >'°'"- disposal." And how often am I to tell von th/t r -n place n,yself under any obli^aion^ f^.^ . ' "'" " O Sidonie I » """S'^t'ons to that woman ? » a<.ailT'ti ^ ""'^r'f <^- I ■""«' not breathe a word agamst this doll. I must allow her to tread ,,^« under her feet ! " " '"® wifl *aLl" ' " 'f P""-- P^'^'- *"- to -othe his wile, and to say a few words in favor of 1,;. a Buddenly Sidon.e burst out in a torrent of indignant li J'f *'" ^°"' '" 'P"*" °* '"='■ *''«"'3»« air and saint- Sl"r.r°' «-' — - >-ghty and mall -■.... ^^u uutests me, and I know it. When I was 68 BIDONIE. mill) little Sidonie, to whom she could toss her broken playthings and cast-off clothing, I was all veiy well But now that I have a good position, and need no assistance from her, too, she wishes to humiliate me at every turn. She presumes to volunteer her ad- vice, and to criticise my every act. She was kind enough, too, to express her astonishment at my en- gaging a maid-naturally— for had I not always been accustomed to waiting on myself? She seeks every opportunity to hurt and wound me. When I present myself on her reception-day, you should hear the condescending tone in which she asks for dear Madame Chebe I Ah, well I Yes, I am a Chebc, and she a Fromont. My grandfather was a druggist, and here a money-lender and a peasant I 1 shall tell her so some fine day, and shall also take occasion to mention that the linle girl of whom she ^so proud is the living image of old Gardinois, and Heaven knows that he is no beauty ! " "My child!" gasped Risler, who could find no words to answer such a tirade. " Yes, admire that baby if you choose ! " It is always ill, and cries half the night, and keeps me awake. In the morning the mother's piano begins." Kisler adopted the wisest course— he said not one syllable in reply. But after a while, when he saw that his wife was calmer, and looking a little ashamed of her outbreak, he began to say a few complimentary words to her. , " That is a very pretty costume. Are you ffoinff to pay visits to-day ? " ^ & 8 "Jfr WIFE'S RECEFTI0X~DA7» 69 "No, I am not going out," answered Sidonie. " On the contrary, I receive. Tin's is my day." Seeing ber Imsband's look of utter astonishment, she continued: " Yes, it is my day. Why should I' not have a day as well as Madame Fromont ?" " Without doubt— certainly," muttered poor Ris- ler, looking about him anxiously. « That is the reason, then, that there are so many flowers in the rooms?" "Yes.. This morning, when I sent Justine into the garden— I am wrong again, then, am I ? You do not say so, but I can see that you think I had no right to send Justine for flowers. I thought the garden belonged to us as well as to the Fromonts ? " " It* does, certainly ; but it would have been better—" " To ask for them— I suppose— of course. Pile on the humiliations, I beg of you ! A few miser- able chrysanthemums, and some green branches, are worth asking for, are they not ? At all events, I took them openly, and when she comes up by-and- by I will show them to her." " Shb is coming, then ? How good of her I " Sidonie started up in a rage. " Good of her ! And why, pray ? Do I not go every Wednesday to her rooms, where I am bored to death by her attitudes and affectations ? " Madame Risler omitted to state that these same Wednesdays had been of immense service to her— that they were like a weekly journal des modes, where she had been taught how to enter and leave a -how to receive and dismiss a guest— where room- ll 70 SIDONIE. m to place J,o.- flowers. Nor diTsidonie ^TZt seW fail f„ T"" '' y""""^ ^''^^'"« Froniont l.er- Belt fail to make her appearance^ 'J-.v.nie erew more and more disturbed and a. ,.„u. IfaZ went on. "Trnpret" „).„ • , ■ uie day luiriyi she cried, jmi,atentlv : "how- long you are to-day over tlie Junch-table < " smoke h,s p,pe at table over his coffee. B J f he was robbed of these dear dcli-dits I i» ^.-""^ must not be taken from its easeVon c^ou" of'k! ma violent mrry, as he must change his dress so «iat he might present idmself to the lad es Ta h ° Wife's salon, later in the day ' ' seenTo enr"''''°" ? *''' ^'"='°''^' ^l^''" R'^'er was s^en to enter on a week-day in a black coat an.l white Tot a't ^,"^^;^^'-»"^^-.«>-d. "ot without pride iNotatall. It is my wife's dav 1 " .»,.*• "". ''"''''•^ ""'' ''"®«' *'"'* it ^"8 Sidonie's re onghly out of temper because the la uel at the sate Lad been robbed of its best branches. ^ windowt-',' f/r^'^S-ho.r., „„,«r the hiVa window, Risler had thrown aside his coat and tumeH up his fresh cuffs !?iit th^ ■ lumel »" cuus. i,ut the consciousness th"": his •^^ ''MY WIFE'S RECEPTIOK-BAYr 71 wife expects company disturbs him, and occasion- ally he puts on his coat and mounts the private stairs to ascertain how thin<(s are going. " No one here yet { " he asks, timidly. *' No one, sir." In the red drawing-room— for they have a salon furnished in red damask— Sidonie is installed on a low couch— several arm-chairs in front of her, a small tal»^o at her side, on which lie a book or two, a work-basket, and a bunch of violets. All is ar- ranged exactly as at the IVomonts', on the story below. But the indefinable good taste which char- acterizes all Claire's belongings is lacking in Si- donie's rooms. The mistress of the house is too elaborately dressed ; her costume is too new— she has rather the air of paying a visit thuu of receiving one. But, in Risler's eyes, everything is superb. Ho began to say so as ho entered the room, but his wife's frown intimidated him. *' You bci4- .^^ *V.£|. .„^_1,3 _T • *% 78 swoms. f Si; "Tf'° '"'' ""^'"'•^> ^*°'"' g'-ed at a wiiiUow, leeliii;; verv much i;b« dares not ,.,ove" .luiTilu/lU^CTe/!:: Bho„M attract the li.Stuin, to lu« own defoioL Sidonio movea about restlesslv aJi.Yfo « i • and finally p„,, the bell violen f ' "^t^^ If no one Ims eo.ue for mo to-dfv " ^ .f -.t turned to obe, her, M^nt^^M^f ^^ -" am oi' '" ^"^ f '■'""'^'^' '"" P'^of'^ that I But no, Achille had seen no one. the itv "fl"' ''""^*"-'"'"''" f"" on tl'e inmates of W f '"^^.^""'^■-^'•cnted roo,n. Ridonie follows her husband's example and takes up a position^ ano her window. Both look down'ln tre g °deL dimly seen through the gathering twillWU SM,! ".ond's lan>p is already lighted, and his lishSw waver,, on the ceiling of the co;,nting-room": Suddenly a co^^p6 drives up to the door-from It emerges a mass of lace and velvet L ?^ f-js-aud SHonie recogni.es one of Sre^m^^ fasl .enable friends. A visitor at last! So the httle household falls into position. The gentle ...an leans idly on the mantel, and the lady!! het low^cha. carelessly turns over the leaves of Tnew not for s!i'"'-'' :r,*™^ "^^y ; th« ^i^'-' was below ! ^"^°°'^-'''« ^^^f' <^^ was for the floor "MY WIFE'S reception-day:' 73 Ah I if Madame Geornje could but have heard ihc denunciations of herself and her friend I At this moment, the door was thrpu'n open, and Mademoiselle Planus was announced. This lady was the cashier's maiden sister — a sweet and gentlo old lady, who came as a matter of duty to pay a visit to the wife of her brother's employer, and who was overwhehned with amazement at the warmth of the welcome she received. Sidonie was very gra- cious, happy to show herself in all her glory to a former acquaintance. She talked and laughed gayly, that Madame George might know that she had vis- itors ; and, when the lady went away, Sidonie ac- companied her to the head of the stairs, with a great rustling of flounces and a sharp click of high- heeled boots, and called out loudly that she was al- ways at home on Fridays. Now it is night. In the next room the table is being laid for dinner. Madame Fremont will not come, and Sidonie is white with indignation. " We are too insignificant for your idol to visit," she said, " but I will revenge myself in some way ! " And, as she raised her voice angrily, her intonation lost its refinement, and betrayed Mademoiselle La Mire's apprentice. Risler murmured : " Who can tell what the rea- son is ? The child may be ill." She turned fiercely upon him. " It is your fault entirely," she cried ; "you have taught your friends to neglect and insult me." And the door of her sleeping-room was shut with such < i i 74 SID mm murmured, moolianieally : ^^"''' ""^ " My wife's day 1 » S,!i CHAPTER II. REAL PEARL, AND IMITATION PEARL. " What is the matter ? What have I done to her? 'I asked Claire of herself, as she tlioiight of Sidonie. Slio was absohitely ignorant of all that had passed between her friend and George at Sa- yigny. ^ With her straightforward natnre, it was impossible for her to imagine the jealousy and low ambitions that had grown up at her side, and yet her former friend's cold and disdainful air disturbed the calmness of her daily life. To a polite reserve, singular enough from a per- son whom she had known so intimately, suddenly •succeeded an air of angry contempt, before which Claire stood as helpless and silent as before a mathe- matical problem. Sometimes, too, a vague presenti- ment assailed her— a suggestion of possible unhap- piness — for women are always more or less clear- sighted, and even those most innocent and unsus- picious have wonderful intuitions. Occasionally, Madame Fremont would wonder at Sidonie's con- duct, but her own life was so full of tender cares for husband, child, and mother, that she had little time to spare for Sidonie's caprices. Had she been still 76 SIDOjYIB. umnarne,! tins sudden destruction of an old friend- tiup would l,ave pained her intensely ; but noraU was changed ; even Sidonie's n^arilge Ld „o astomshed her. HUW was too old, ceftainlv ; bu what d.d It nsatter, if his wife loved hiui ? ^ As to being vexed that "little Chiibc » had reached her present position, such an idea had never ente ed Cla.re's n.ind. Her nature M-as too gener ous for such baseness. She had, on the confrarT hopeu sjncerely that this young woman, who had livid under the s.ame roof as herseff, would be happy a„d contented in her new position. In the mo t affec onate manner she sought to advise her, and to k B^.-uct her in the ways of the world to wLch she" was as yet a stranger. "^ Between two women, eqnally pretty and eauallv inl tone < tL ■°'""^"''°"'?' '"" ^"'^ '" » ^'^"'-^ m„ tone Too many jewels, dear ; and then von know w,th a high-necked dress, one sho. dl^ver heTfreTtt ^'^ ^^^^ ''"^'^ -o-l, tl.aX ceived ^XrY':^' Sidonie had been coolly re- sTons b„t^ '; '''"^""•? St-Germain has its pretent s^ons but, ,f you „„agine that the mercantile com mum y are without them, you are greatly m aken' knew It" eTl-"'. '^''''T "' ^'^^-^^^''^^'o Knew Jittle Chdbe s story, and, had they not known It, they would have iruessed it f..,. >.i.! . "y"" „ -,v«.i tivi way 01 prtj. REAL PEARL, AND IMITATION PEARL. 77 n\ senting herself to their notice. She was too eager and too humble, and about her lingered something of the air of a shop-girl ; and her occasional disdain- ful attitudes recalled the young women in black silk, in a millinery establishment, who are absolutely imposing from the height of the puffs and curls on their heads, and who look with utter contempt on the ignorant persons who attempt to make a bargain. Sidonie felt herself criticised and examined, and she prepared for battle. The names pronounced in her presence— the fetes— diwdi the books of which they talked — were equally unknown to her. Claire did her best to place her at her ease. Among these ladies, several thought Sidonie very pretty, too pretty to belong to their circle; others, proud of their wealth, and of the success of their husbands, found it easy to be insolently con- descending to the little jyarvenue. Sidonie, however, included them all in her sweeping phrase: " If they are Claire's friends, they are my enemies," she said, with infinite bitterness. The two men suspected nothing of what was going on betw ?n their wives. Hisler— absorbed in his new invention — sat half the night at his draw- ing-board. Fromont passed his days out of his liouse, breakfasted and often dined at his club, and was rarely seen at the factory. In fact, Sidonie'a vicinity troubled him. The passionate caprice he had had for her, and which he had relinquished at liis uncle's bidding, still haunted his memory ; and, feeling his own weakness, he soui: 'i pi If If safety in flight. 78 SID ox IE. m ' The n,ght of Risler's marriage, when ho himself tut he could not ...eet Sidonie with impuuitv iMom that moment he avoided her society, and 2; by any chance did her name pass his !ips. Unfortunately, as they lived in the same house as the lad.es exchanged a dozen visits each day ho prospect of „,eeting l,er was always be bre'l.ta ter^ninedTd '^ ^"^ "'•^' "'^ ^^'''^ '"•^'^-^ ™- tenmned *o do no wrong, felt compelled to leave cental '•',% "'' " '■•'''"^" '"^-^''-- Claire ac to.ned her to incessant though short "trios on verrf' r' f "^ ''"^ ''-band's absence she in- vented for herself new pursuits and home dnties . ,^'^:'°'° ^ent out a good deal. Often toward n.glit, jnst as she was entering her garden itlT^ a snperb toilet, George's earrilge wfu Id daf 'pa^ her. Shoppmg, for the mere pleasure of spendiul money, was one of her favorite amusementrandf occupied her that she was often detained muehlat r e lavished on the little girl who stretched forth her arms to greet him. Sidonie seemed to have otaly forgotten the past ; or, if she recalled at eu, 5 Z "''"■ ""' *""«' ">°' ^^-^ -"tireJy oc- cupied. After some hesitation, she had deci.led to take lessons in siuirln.. tl,i„i,;„„ .,,.. ,, '"""""U to o o, -....,a,^^ tiiiii, it was ratlier H «wy«]r;«s;«fK;,^ REAL PEARL, AND IMITATION PEARL. '^^ late in life to begin the piano ; and, twice each week, Madame Dobson, a pretty, sentimental blonde, gave her a lesson, from twelve to one o'clock. This lesson heard througli the open windows, and tlie con- stant practice of scales, gave to the house something of the air of a boarding-school ; but Sidonie* had said to herself: " Claire plays tlie piano ; she passes for an elegant and distinguished woman ; 1 am de- termined that the world shall say as much for me.'» The poor child did not dream of studv, or of real improvement in any way ; she passed her life in the shops, and with her milliner and dress-maker. Of those imitation pearls which she had handled for so long a time, something still clung to her— a httle of their brilliancy without depth, of their pale lustre, and of their fragility. She was herself an imitation pearl, fair and brilliant; but Claire Fro- niont was a real jewel, a deep-sea pearl, and, when the two women were together, it was easy to dis- tinguish the Parisian imitation from the natural growth. Of all Claire's surroundings, the one which Si- donie most envied her was her infant— a dainty mass of ribbons and lace. She had no thought of sweet maternal duties— no knowledge of Claire's long hours of wakefulness— of anxious watches and tender hopes. She never longed for the touch of dimpled lingers, or dreamed of glad awakenings, merry shouts, and splasliing water. JSTo mother-in- stinct was aroused within lier empty heart; she sim- ply regarded the child, with its fln 'vina robes, in the 80 8ID0NIE. arms of its tall-capped nurse, as a charming acces- sorj to her morning walks and spring toilets. She liad only her parents or her husband as companions, consequently she preferred to go out alone. Ifer husband mortified her by his awkward care.-8es, and a habit he had of tapping her like a cluld on her cheek, or of taking her by the chin. His very way of sitting and looking at her enra-ed her--it was so like an affectionate dog ! Her parents she had managed to dispose of for the time bein^ by mducing her husband to rent for them a little house at Montrouge. This had put an end to M Uiebe 8 frequent invasions, and to the interminable visits of her mother, who, cheered by her daughter's good fortune, was gradually falling into idle habits. Sidome would have much liked to get rid of the I^olobelles ; she was annoyed by their living so near Her. Jiut the old actor was not easily moved from a situation that he liked, having the theatres and the boulevards so close at hand. Then Desir^e was attached to their rooms, and their dingy court-dark at four o clock-was to her like the familiar face of a friend. Sidonie rarely saw her old neighbors, however and her life would have been solitaiy enough if It had not been for the amusements that Claire procured for her. Each of these, however, was a new injuiy, and she said to herself, " Must I always be indebted to her ? " And when, at the dinner-table, they sent her tickets for the theatre, oi :n invitation for the even- mg, even while she hurried tn Hrpa^ cT.« .1 1.^ -T¥>,i' W^ftv^'-.^awAT., JiEAL PEARL, AND IMITATION PEARL. 81 only of crushing lier rival Tlicse occasions, how- ever, became more and more infrequent, for Claire was much occupied with her child. When her grandfather came to Paris, he never failed to brin- them all together. He invited them to dine Kt Bome famous restaurant, expended a vast deal of money, and tlipu took tliem to the theatre. He talked familiarly to the waiters at the res- taurant, laughed loudly at the theatre, and made their party as conspicuous as possible. On the oc- casion of these somewhat vulgar festivities, which (xeorge contrived sometimes to avoM, Claire dressed very quietly, and thus escaped observation ; Sidonie on the contrary, made a gorgeous toilet, took a front-seat in the box, and enjoyed the coarse jests ot the old peasant. She looked at herself in' the mm-ors and, with an air of proprietorship, placed her opera-glass, handkerchief, and fan, on the red velvet m front of her. The commonplace glitter of these public places enchanted her, and she accepted them as the epitome of luxury; she bloomed therein, like a pretty paper flower in a filigree garden One evening at the Palais Royal, when a great crowd assembled to witness a new plav, among all the women present -pain ted celebrities, with powdered hair and enormous fans-Sidonie attracted the most attention. All the opera-glasses in the house, influ- enced by a certain magnetism, were one by one directed to her box. Claire was infinitely annoyed, and finally relinquished her chair to her husband aua took refuge in the back of their box. 83 8TD0KIE. George, young and very distinguished in appear- ance, had, at Sidonie's side, the air of lier Inisband ; while Bislcr, older and graver, looked as if he be^ longed to Cluire, who in her dark and quiet costume had the air of a woman who desired to escape obser- vation. Going out, each took the aim of her neighbor, and a little grisette, commenting loudly on Sidonie's appearance, used the words "her husband "—and the foolish little woman was in a glow of delight. " Her husband ! " These simple words sufficed to awaken a crowd of wicked thoughts and plans, that for some time hac| slept quietly in the recesses of her nature. She looked at Risler and at Claire as they walked m front. Madame Fromont's quiet elegance seemed dowdiness to her distorted vision. She said to herself, " How vulgar I must look when I have my husband's arm ! " and her heart beat more quickly as she thought of the distinguished- looking pair she and George Fromont would have made. And when she saw Claire and her husband enter the well-known blue covpe, she allowed her- self to dwell on the idea that Claire had stolen her place, and that she had a right to take it again if she could. ^ i I CHAPTER HI. TOE TAVEIOr OP TOE ElE BLONDEL. _ Ever since his marriage, Rislcr had given up go- mg to the brewery. Sidonio would have no objee- t.on to an elegant club, but tlio idea of his spending: an evening over his pipe witli Dolobelle, and Si.^is- mond h.9 cashier, liumiliated and annoyed her Consequently he never wont, and this was somewha of a samhce for him. It was almost li!le but amicable disputes of Dolobelle and Ch^.be. When Risler „. ,„^.^ ,„„ ojjjg,.^ ueserted it also. M. Chebe, to be sure, had excellent reasons for doin- 84 SIDO.yiK 80, as he now resided at too great a distance ; for, thanks to his children's generosity, he had at last realized the dream of his whole life. "When I am rich," he had always said, "I will have a little house of my own just o'^r of Paris, and a garden that I siiall take care of myself. It will he better for my health tlian Paris; the life here is too excitina:." Ah, well! he had his house and his garden, but after all he was not amused by them. It was at Montrouge that he resided, in a square box of a cottage — glaringly white — with a grape-vine on one side. Xext to him was anothci* house precisely similar, which was occupied by the cashier, Sigis- mond Planus, and his sister. To Madame Chcibe these neighbors were invaluable. When the good woman was tired of herself, she took her knitting, and enlivened the quiet old maid with anecdotes of past sjDlendors. Unfortunately, her husband did not appreciate these same resources. At first all went well. It was n Id summer, and M. Chebe was very busy arrai^ging the house. Each nail led to endless discussions. In the garden it was the same thing. lie wanted the turf to bo always green, and insisted on an orchard. "My dear," said his wife, "you forget that time is neces- sary for that." " True I " said the little man, and for lack of an orchard he planted a vegetable-gar- den. He dug and weeded morning after morning, and wiped his brow ostentatiously, so that his wife would say : THE TAVERN OF TIIE RUE JiLONDEl. 85 "Rest, mj dear; you will cer;aiiily kill youi- While thr fine weatlier lasted, the worthy people admired the sunsets, and talke market. She sat near the window, and contemplated the dreary prospect : the rain fell in straight lines, the vines drooped from the wall, and the dead leaves lay in damp, sticky masses on the little path. And o short way off was the omnibus-station, with th. well-known names of Parisian streets painted ou their varnished sides. Each time that one of these omnibuses started on its return she followed it with longing eyes, in the san. way that a convict at Cayenne watches the vessel that sets sail for Franco —made the journey in her imagination— knew just where it would stop, and through which gay streets it w^ould clumsily roll along. Under these circumstances M. Chebe became unendurable. He had no one to listen to his long stories, no new listener to the history of the acci- dent, "like that of the Due d'Orleans." Conse- quently, the poor man reproached his wife. " Your daughter has exiled us— your daughter is ashamed of us I" For, in his indignation, the angry man threw the whole responsibility of this unnatural, heartless daughter on his wife. The poor woman was happy only when she saw him 'II 1^ ffl \ i MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ 1^ 2.8 3.2 3.6 14,0 1.4 2.5 2.2 2.0 ^ APPLIED IIVMGE Inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 (716) 482 -OJOO - Phone (716) 288-5989 -Fax USA 86 SIDONm m start off for Paris, to narrate his wrongs to Dolo- uelle. This illustrious man had his own injuries, in his turn. He had meant to form an important part of the new menage, to organize /c'to, and to occupy the post, m fact, of general adviser. Instead of that, Sidonie received him very coolly, and Eisler gave him no more invitations to the brewery ; nev- ertheless, the actor did not complain too openly, and when he met his old friend overwhelmed him with flattery, for he meant to make use of him. Tired at last of expecting the intelligent man- ager, Dolobelle had conceived the extravagant idea ot purchasing a theatre, and becoming a manager himself, lie looked to Eisler for the necessL funds. Just at this time he had found a small theatre that was to be sold, in consequence of the tailure of the manager. Dolobelle spoke of it to Bisler, at first indifferently. "It would be an excellent speculation," he said. Risler hstened quietly, saying, "It would be a good thing for you." Then to a direct appeal, to which he dared not say "No," Kislcr took refuge behind "I will so^ lerhaps " and finally uttered the unfortunate words 1 must see the estimates." _ For eight days the old actor had figured indus- tnously-had added up long columns, seated hi tvyeeii two women who watched him admiringly. Throughout the house rang the enchanting words, M. Dolobelle is gomg to buy a theatre 1" Hi^ KktOa. .piT^ THE TAVERN OF THE RUE BI.ONDEL. 87 friends on the boulevards, and at the cifea talked that he had found some one who would furnish !.,« with ,„oney and he was soon surrounded b^ a ir 1 J"s ear, Do not forget me, mj boy ! " h,.»Tf ^/T''f "^'^'Ttlnng that was aske.l of him breakfasted and dined at the cafe, wrote hi, e e« there, and received his friends; and aire dv tvvo needy authors had brought him ^iays fo h <<^o, eT ing niglit." He said, "lly theatre "LT 7 \ Ill's lotfn^o !.« u 1 , •' ''"'^^''re, and ordered mana^? ''"■""' *° '""' "^- »-'ol^<="e, Ws Il'imat'f """''IT'' '" ^'■°^r"'^'"^' «"de erv for ht • 7' *' "'"' ^^'^"^ '' '^"^ brew- ery, for h.s friend was too busy to receive him dw- mg office-hours. " himfe?at"tL-'";!i1 ,','' ""'"^''^y «^^*' "^''''"ed ^miself at then- old table, called for two glasses of beer, anti waited. Eisler did r^nt „„ .. t, I . 1 . ivioici uiu not come; the ai^tnr- took out his papers and read them over tain"' SiillTf '.fP'?'"'' """«'• ^"««'^ ^-^^ eer- n r , 1, r' "' '"""^'^'J ^"J surprised to see Jritt^his '''"'•"? '''' *" ^''^ '"■•"• "^'^^ wntten to his sou-m-law, that mornin<- tli.f ),o wished to have a long and 'serious con v rtti ' li h Inm and would see him at the brewery Jeasfof «r."Vnr' ^- ''''"'^^ ''•"■^ >'elinquished the ease of the little cottage at Montrouge, and had lured a shnn anA -,„< 7 • r - »°' '"'*' "aa 1.^. a.^a w.r,c-ow m la itue do Mail. Uav- 88 SIBONIE. "•g done all this,, his courage forsook him, and he was very anxious to tnow how his daa-ght^r wouM look at the matter, particularly as th^ shop w s more expensive than the cottage, and ,.ould besid reqmre qu.te a sum of money to be expJea in epau.s before they could take'possession^ tlZ "law S"f .'■ r"°f "'' good-nature of his son- to hun, and thus leave to Eisler the responsibility of nmung to his wife the announcement of this domestic ooup-d'etat. Instead of Eisler, it was Dolobelle whom he saw. They exammed each other, like two dogs at he same platter. Each understood who it waTtha the other expected. " Is not my son-in-law here 2 » asked M. Ch^be loobngat the papers spread out on the table and emphasxzmg the words " my son-in-law," as if to ^cheate that Eisler belonged to him, and to no one DololLr '^Pf''""^,'^'"' momentarily," answered Ddobelle coolly, as he gathered up his estimates. Then, with a theatrical, mysterious air, he added, VV e have important business together." <,„„ \^°^ -'"^r ^^" ''"^"•ered M. Ch^be, whose scanty bair began to bristle, like the quills of the fretful porcupine. He, in his turn, called for two glasses of beer, and drew up a chair to the table. K.sler did not appear, and the two men grew very impatient. Each hoped that the other would leave. At last their ill-temper could no lon<.er be ,X.r. ___r^7MnM.V OF THE RUE BLOHDEL. 89 restrained and, n"M^,v.a3 theiTw^i^T^o was a tae,.:ed. II. Dolobelle began first : " I be" lietre tlie fellow is moekino' me ' " .„/'.h' " ^T "r" '"'' ^f'^ ^''"'^- ^"d «'«" the two put then- heads together and whispered : " Risler was close Kisler was selfish, as well as a par,eT" They laughed at his accent and his manners. lu Chobewent still further: "My son-in-law had be fnd IT, °r- '' '" ""<^^ ''"'^^ ^'^ -"•'^'^ fetter and mother, he must guard her more carefully him- self. You understand ? " ^ "Certainly," said Dolotdle, "certainly. I am tod too, that Sidonie is somewhat recklfss. Bu^ what could one e.xpect ? A man of that age- Hush ! here he comes." * Risler excused himself as well as possible but was ev>dent y not at ease. He could not leave home tmt. late ; bi^ wife had guests. And, all the t me that he was speak.ng, the poor fellow was wonder! mg to wh,ch of the two men he ought to listen Dolobelle was generous. « You wish to talk with each other, gentlemen. Do not let me disturb tCpaper". '" ""^""'''^ '° ^'^'^'•' "^ have ;; The papers ! •' said the other, in amazement. actor Th ^^^*"""^^f> yo'^ know," answered the actor. Thereupon wth a great affectation of dis- cretion, he turned his back. The two others conversed at first in a low voice but finally Ch^be'a wrath .nnl^ „. i„„ °®' 1;: iViiJ rcr b e re- 90 BIB ON IE. i Ifii Bh-a-ed. He did not mean to be buried alive, he as rZ!lT \ ^^ '''"' ' *°P ' " ^P^^'^'d Chibe, tl nt I ^l^f'^'^'-;^^^- " You forgot, sir, I think tlut I am a merclmnt, and the son of a merchant I hav n„ ,,pi ,_ ,^ .^ ^^^^^ ^^_^ ^^,^^^^ fault i 1 at j If the person who exiled me from Paris-" Here Risler enjoined silence, and lisjointed words only were now to be distinguishe,! : " i mo2 oonvement shop_a magnificent enterprise," 1 At last, when M, Ohibe was exhausted by his own energy, h>s son-in-law turned toward DolobeJb w.h a s.gh. Chebe drew his chair closer, h^t he f"k dT r ""'""""" '^^■"'" *'^' "- "eto "Another t ^-7"''' 'r' ''■■'^ "' ^ '"'S^ified tone, Another time, if you please." ' But M. Chebe was not to be thus rebuffed • he ero is t^r • "t'^ ""-'"-'^'^ "^ - --k ti- oitnf K >, i'"^ ^''"' "'"'='' "'^' buffoon can get out of him " So he remained to watch. Dolobe le was furious, for it was impossible to postpone the purchase for more than a day or twl and Kisler had just told him that on the foUow n^ moriimg he should go to SaWgny for a mol! ^ lor a month!" exclaimed M. Cliibe, agliast. TVT n i. . '''^" '^°™e up to town every day But M. airdiiio . is determined to have Sidonie l2? ness, said he; "a master should always be on hand THE TAVERN OF THE RUE BLOXDEL. 91 to Stand ia the breacli. AVhat if the factory should take lire some night ? " Finally the last omnibus bore away the trouble- some father-in-law, and Dolobelle could speak freely " First the prospectus," he said, not wishing to begin with figures, and, placing his eye-glasses on his nose, he began in this way : ^^' When we consider calmly the decrepitude into which the theatres of France have fallen ; when we recall the days when Moliere-" There were a good many pages like this ; Eisler smoked and listened Unfortunately, just at this point, the waiters be- gan to put out the liglits. They must depart-they would read as they went along. The actor stopped at each street-lamp and deciphered his own figures —so much for this— so much for that— so much for the salary of the actors. On this point he became eloquent. " You must remember that we shall not have to pay our star anything, for I, of course, will take all the first parts ; this, therefore, is a clear saving, and just the same as putting the money in your own pocket " Risler did not reply ; his thoughts were evident- ly wandering. At last Dolobelle put the question squarely « Will you, or will you not, lend the money ? " " Frankly, then," answered Eisler, with a cour- age that came as he saw the black walls of his fac- tory before him, " I will not." Dolobelle was stupefied; he was so certain of the money that he could hardlv ' '" 4 '' I: lievfi ITS. 'iif: ' Hi 1. i 92 SIDONIE, iv. 89i'' "]S"o," continued Risler: "I sav no hpn.nuo -f • absolute,, impossible for „.e to drwllt .T k I will tell you why." ^ ■*■ rich^lht '',"'"'' "*"" "'^P'"''""' *''^' l^^ ^«« not had but h tie money at his own disposal. Georo-e and he each month drew a certain bu,„, and a he trtriTiTdtecTJr ^""" ''^ '^ ^"- "- "^^ "It certainly would," answered the actor cran- ddoquently, "for I should be there-" ^ To all poor Dolobelie's entreaties Risler would only answer : " Wait two or three years ; at present I have no nght to speculate; my nam is „Tmy bankrupt? he continued, passionately, and then more calmly, added: "Come to me Lin a year' from now, and I will aid 70U if I ,>«„ A a ^ good-night. Here is Aehirat thS ^. " ^°' "'^'^ It was after two o'clock when the actor reached and M..dame Dolobelle held her bi<. scissors wTfh «hng hands. The birds on the tlwZZZt wi iTer r " -"'^''r '' ^"P^ "^<^ '-«■-'» t"l witn uei Jite-givmg fingers. Madame Dolobelle watched the clock "Ah I " * THE TAVERN- OF Tn E^nUEBLOKLm. 93 "lie will, I am sure-M. Eisler is so kind- Lcarted; and thca Sidonie loves us dearlv, thou-.h SM,ce her u,arriage she has seen.ed to .;ogleet Z,. We mnst take ..ito consideration the great diiferenco m our positions; but I shall never forget all she Las done for m^." and what Sidonie liad done, but lier thoughts a^ain wandered to her husband. "If your fatlier sliould liave a theatre lie would play every night, as he did when you were little— you do not remember it, but at Alenjon he had an immense success. Ah ! how handsome and .^ay he was in those days ! but misfortune has sadly champed him, and yet I feel that a little happiness and fr'ee- com from care would make him quite young again At Alen§on the manager had a carriage-just think of our having a carriage ! it would be such a good thing for you, my dear I you could go out every day and drive into the country; you could see the water, and the trees — " The little lame girl drew a long breath. At this moment the door below shut violently, and M Mobelle's heavy step was heard on the staircase.' ihe two women dared not look at each other The poor fellow had certainly received a cruel blow. Ihe humiliation of a refusal, the ridicule of his associates, the debt that he had incurred at the c^e all weighed on his soul as he slowly mounted the long flights of stairs. His heart was nearly nrnk-