THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 COMMODORE BYRON MCCANDLESS
 
 AY UNCLE 
 
 AND 
 
 15y Jean De LEX Bretc 
 
 Illustrations- 
 
 Jonct 
 
 . 
 
 DODD./AEIAD 6? COMPANY 
 
 -PUBL15HEK.5 >
 
 **&"**i / 
 / 
 
 MY UNCLE AND MY CURE
 
 >
 
 MY UNCLE AND MY CURE 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 OF 
 
 JEAN DE LA BRETE 
 
 BY ERNEST REDWOOD 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGES JANET 
 
 NEW YORK 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 1892
 
 Copyright, 1892, 
 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
 
 MY UNCLE AND MY CURE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 T AM so small that one might call me a dwarf, were 
 not my head, my feet, and my hands in perfect pro- 
 portion to my figure. My face has neither the undue 
 length nor the absurd breadth which one associates with 
 dwarfs, and with deformed persons in general ; and the 
 daintiness of my extremities would be envied by more 
 than one beautiful woman. 
 
 Nevertheless, my diminutive figure has made me pour 
 out tears in secret. I say in secret, because my liliputian 
 
 i
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 body encloses a soul haughty, proud, and incapable of 
 showing its wounds to the first comer, above all, to my 
 aunt. Such at least was my way of thinking when I was 
 fifteen. But the incidents, the troubles, the cares, the 
 joys, in a word, the affairs, of life have broadened 
 rapidly characters much more rigid than mine. 
 
 My aunt was the most disagreeable woman I have ever 
 known. She was very ugly, so far as I could judge, who 
 had seen nothing, and had no standard of comparison. 
 
 Beside her I had the appearance of a gnat, of an 
 ant. When I spoke to her I had to raise my head as 
 high as if I wished to examine the top of a poplar. 
 She was of plebeian origin, and like many of that 
 class considered physical strength above everything, 
 and professed for my puny person a disdain which 
 crushed me. 
 
 Her disposition was a faithful copy of her physique. 
 It was made up of irregularities, asperities, and sharp 
 corners, against which the unfortunates who lived with 
 her ran every day. 
 
 My uncle, a country gentleman whose stupidity had 
 become a proverb in the place, had married her through 
 weakness of mind and character. He died a short time 
 after his marriage, and I never knew him. When I 
 came to think it over, I attributed his premature death 
 to my aunt, who seemed to me strong enough to put 
 speedily underground not only one poor fellow, like my 
 uncle, but a whole regiment, even, of husbands.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 I was two years old when my parents went to the 
 other world, leaving me to the caprice of the events of 
 life and of my relatives. They left a goodly remnant 
 of a large fortune, about four hundred thousand francs 
 in land, which brought in a very fair revenue. 
 
 My aunt consented to bring me up. She did not love 
 children, but she was poor, for her husband had man- 
 aged his affairs badly, and she bethought her with sat- 
 isfaction that comfort would come into her house with me. 
 
 What an ugly house, large, dilapidated, built in the 
 midst of a court full of manure, mud, fowls, and rabbits ! 
 Behind stretched a garden in which all the plants in 
 creation crowded one another, pell-mell, without any one 
 caring for them the least in the world. I believe that 
 in the memory of man no one had seen a gardener trim 
 the trees or weed out the useless plants, which increased 
 according to their fancy, while it never occurred to my 
 aunt and me to busy ourselves with them. 
 
 This virgin forest displeased me, because even as a 
 child I had an innate taste for order. 
 
 The place was called Buisson. It was situated in 
 the heart of the country, half a league from the church 
 and a little village of some twenty thatched cottages. 
 Neither chateau, castle, nor manor was within five 
 leagues in any direction. We lived in the most com- 
 plete isolation. My aunt sometimes went to C , the 
 
 town nearest Buisson. I wished keenly to go with her, 
 consequently she never took me.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 The only incidents in our life were the arrival of the 
 farmers, who brought their indebtedness or their rents, 
 and the visits of the cure. 
 
 Oh, what an excellent man the cure was ! He came 
 to the house three times a week, having undertaken, in 
 a moment of great zeal, to cram my head with all the 
 learning known to him. 
 
 He followed up his task with perseverance, although 
 I understood how to put his patience to the test. Not 
 that I was a blockhead, I learned easily; but laziness 
 was my darling sin. I loved it, I coddled it, in spite of 
 the cure's expenditure of eloquence and the many 
 efforts he made to tear this plant of Satan from my 
 soul. 
 
 Then, and this was the most serious point, my ability 
 to argue developed rapidly. I entered into discussions 
 which irritated the cure ; I assumed opinions which often 
 offended and clashed with his dearest convictions. 
 
 It was a keen pleasure to me to contradict him, to 
 tease him, to take a stand opposed to his ideas, his 
 tastes, his arguments. This stirred my blood and kept 
 my mind on the alert. I suspect that he had the same 
 feeling, and that he would have been in despair had I lost 
 all at once my cavilling ways and my independence of 
 thought. 
 
 But I never laid them aside, because when I saw him 
 stir in his seat, run his hands through his hair in despair, 
 and smear his nose with snuff, forgetting all the laws
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 of propriety, a forgetfulness that came only when the 
 case was serious, nothing could equal my satisfaction. 
 
 Nevertheless, if he alone had been concerned, I fancy 
 that I should sometimes have resisted the demon of a 
 tempter. My aunt had taken the baleful habit of being 
 present at the lessons, although she understood nothing, 
 and yawned ten times an hour. 
 
 Contradiction, even when her ugly self was not con- 
 cerned, put her in a fury, a fury all the greater that 
 she did not dare to say anything before the cure. Then, 
 to see me argue seemed to her something abnormal in 
 the physical and moral order of things. I never attacked 
 her directly, because she was brutal and I feared her 
 blows. Lastly, my voice though I flatter myself that 
 it is sweet and musical produced upon her auditory 
 nerves a disastrous effect. 
 
 In such case it will be understood that it was im- 
 possible, absolutely impossible, for me not to be mali- 
 cious enough to set to work to enrage my aunt and 
 torment my cure. 
 
 Nevertheless I loved him, this poor cure. I loved 
 him dearly; and I know that in spite of my absurd 
 arguments, which sometimes reached impertinence, he 
 had the greatest affection for me. I was not only the 
 chosen one of his flock, I was the child of his adoption, 
 his work, the daughter of his heart and mind. With 
 this paternal affection was blended a tinge of admiration 
 for my capabilities, my words, and my acts in general.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 He had taken his task to heart. He had sworn to 
 instruct me, to watch over me as a guardian angel, 
 notwithstanding my obstinacy, my logic, and my whims. 
 And this task had at once become the sweetest thing 
 in his life, the greatest, if not the only, distraction 
 in his monotonous existence. 
 
 Through rain, wind, snow, hail, heat, cold, and 
 storms, I used to see the cure appear, his cassock 
 tucked up to his knees, and his hat under his arm. I 
 do not know that in all my life I ever saw him with 
 his hat on. He had a way of walking with head un- 
 covered, smiling at the passers-by, at the birds, at the 
 trees, at the blades of grass. Round and plump, he 
 seemed to rebound from the ground which he trod with 
 a quick step, and to which he seemed to say, " You 
 are good, and I love you." He was happy to be living, 
 content with himself and with all the world. His 
 kindly face, ruddy and fresh, surrounded with white 
 hair, used to recall those late roses which still blos- 
 som under the first snows. 
 
 When he entered the court, fowls and rabbits ran 
 at his voice to nibble some crusts of bread which he 
 had been careful to slip into his pocket before leaving 
 the presbytere. Perrine, the milkmaid, made a cour- 
 tesy; then Suzon, the cook, hastened to open the door 
 and show him into the salon, where we took our 
 lessons. 
 
 My aunt, planted in an armchair with the grace of
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 a rather thick lightning-rod, rose at his approach, bade 
 him welcome with a surly air, and began at a gallop 
 on the subject of my misdeeds. After which, seating 
 herself as stiff as a poker, she took her knitting, her 
 favourite cat on her knees, and awaited, or did not await, 
 an occasion to say something disagreeable to me. 
 
 The worthy cure heard with patience her harsh, ear- 
 piercing voice. He shrugged his shoulders as if the 
 reprimand were for him, and threatened me with his 
 finger, half laughing. Dieu merci, he had known my 
 aunt a long time! We settled ourselves at a little 
 table which we placed near the window. This position 
 had a twofold advantage, in that it removed us far 
 enough from my aunt, who sat in state near the hearth 
 at the end of the room, and at the same time allowed 
 my eyes to follow the flights of the swallows and the 
 flies, and in winter to note the effect of the snow and 
 the hoar-frost on the trees of the garden. 
 
 The cure placed his snuff-box beside him, a checked 
 handkerchief on the arm of his chair, and the lesson 
 began. 
 
 When my laziness had not been too great, every- 
 thing went well, at least while he was correcting my 
 exercises ; for although they were as short as possible, 
 they were always done with care. My handwriting was 
 clear and my style easy. The cure would nod his head 
 with an air of satisfaction, take snuff enthusiastically, 
 and say over and over, " Good ! very good ! "
 
 8 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 During this time I was mentally counting the spots 
 on his cassock, and asking myself how he would appear 
 if he had a black wig, tight breeches, and a coat of red 
 velvet like that which my great-uncle wore in his 
 portrait. 
 
 The idea of the cure in breeches and a wig was so 
 amusing that I would break out in a loud laugh. 
 Then my aunt would cry, 
 
 "Idiot! little stupid!" 
 
 And utter other amenities of this sort which were 
 privileged as parliamentary, as well as explicit. 
 
 The cure would look at me, smiling, and say two or 
 three times over, 
 
 " Ah, youth, happy youth ! " 
 
 And a reminiscence of himself at fifteen would make 
 him half emit a sigh. 
 
 After this we passed to the recitation, and matters 
 did not go so well. This was the critical time, the 
 time for talk, for personal opinions, for discussions, 
 not to say almost disputes. 
 
 The cure" admired the men of antiquity, the heroes, 
 and the almost fabulous deeds in which physical cour- 
 age had played an important part. This preference 
 was strange, because the cure was not exactly of the 
 stuff of which heroes are made. 
 
 I had noticed that he did not at all like to go 
 home at night; and this discovery, while it made 
 me more fond of him, because I was a great coward
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 1 1 
 
 myself, left me no illusion on the subject of his 
 courage. 
 
 For this good, peaceful, tranquil soul, lover of re- 
 pose, of routine, of his flock and of his own self, had 
 never, no, never, dreamed of being a martyr. I have 
 seen him pale, at least as much as his red cheeks 
 could pale, on reading the accounts of the tortures 
 inflicted on the early Christians. He considered it 
 a fine thing to enter heaven with the stride of a hero, 
 but he thought it much pleasanter to advance peace- 
 fully toward eternity, without fatigue and without 
 haste. He had not those exaltations which inspire a 
 desire for death in order to see the sooner the Lord of 
 worlds and time. No, not at all ! He had made up 
 his mind to go without a murmur when his time came ; 
 but he was sincerely desirous that this should be as 
 distant as possible. 
 
 I confess that my temperament, which does not shine 
 in the heroic line, disposes itself after the same sweet 
 and comfortable fashion. 
 
 Nevertheless, he clung to his heroes; he admired 
 them, extolled them, and loved them doubtless the 
 more that, the opportunity being offered, he knew it 
 absolutely impossible for him to imitate them. 
 
 As for me, I shared neither his tastes nor his 
 enthusiasms. I experienced a profound antipathy to 
 the Greeks and Romans. Through some subtile 
 working of my fantastic intelligence, I had made up
 
 12 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 my mind that these latter resembled my aunt, or 
 that my aunt resembled them, as you please; and 
 from the day when I decided that they were alike, the 
 Romans were tried, condemned, and executed in my 
 eyes. 
 
 Nevertheless, the cure persisted in dabbling with 
 me in Roman history; and I on my side obstinately 
 refused to take any interest. The men of the Repub- 
 lic did not stir my blood, and the emperors were all 
 mixed up in my head. The cure would exclaim in 
 admiration, would become provoked, would argue; 
 nothing shook my indifference and my own conviction. 
 
 For example, in narrating the history of Mucius 
 Scaevola, I ended thus, 
 
 "He burned his right hand to punish himself for 
 being deceived, which proves that he was a fool. " 
 
 The cure, who had heard me a moment before with a 
 satisfied air, started with indignation. 
 
 "A fool, Mademoiselle, and why so? " 
 
 "Because the loss of his hand could not make 
 amends for his error," I answered, "since Porsena 
 was none the less alive, and since a secretary would 
 do no better." 
 
 " True, ma petite ; but Porsena was so frightened as 
 to raise the siege immediately. " 
 
 "That, Monsieur le Cure, proves only that Porsena 
 was a coward. " 
 
 "Even so. Rome was delivered, and thanks to
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 13 
 
 whom? Thanks to Scaevola, thanks to his heroic 
 deed!" 
 
 And the cure, who, shuddering at the idea of burning 
 his little finger, only admired Mucius Scaevola the 
 more, became enthusiastic and strove to make me ap- 
 preciate his hero. 
 
 "I hold to what I have said," I answered quietly, 
 " that he was only a fool, and a great one. " 
 
 The cure gasped and exclaimed, 
 
 "When children undertake to argue, mortals hear 
 much foolishness." 
 
 " Monsieur le Cure", you told me the other day that 
 the reasoning faculty is the most excellent that man 
 possesses." 
 
 " Without doubt, without doubt, when he knows 
 how to employ it. Then I was speaking of a man 
 grown and not of little girls." 
 
 " Monsieur le Cure, the little birds try their wings 
 on the edge of the nest." 
 
 The worthy man, a little disconcerted, ran his hands 
 through his hair energetically, which gave him the look 
 of a wolf's head powdered white. 
 
 "You do wrong to argue so much, ma petite," he 
 said to me sometimes ; " it is a sin of pride. You 
 will not have me always to answer you; and when 
 you are fighting the battle of life, you will learn that 
 one does not argue with it, one submits." 
 
 But I do not trouble myself much as to life. I
 
 14 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 have a cur6 to practise my logic upon, and that is 
 enough for me. 
 
 When I had been very teasing, tiring, and torment- 
 ing, he would try to assume a severe expression, but 
 he was obliged to give up the attempt; his mouth, 
 always smiling, absolutely refused to obey him. 
 
 Then he would say to me, 
 
 "Mademoiselle de Lavalle, you will go over your 
 Roman emperors again, and you will do it in such a 
 way as not to confound Tiberius and Vespasian." 
 
 " Let us leave those good people alone, Monsieur le 
 Cure," I would answer; "they tire me. Do you know 
 that if you had lived in their time they would have 
 grilled you alive, or torn out your tongue and nails, or 
 cut you into little pieces like the meat in a pate? " 
 
 At this gloomy picture the cure started slightly, 
 and trotted off without deigning to answer me. 
 
 I knew that his displeasure was at its height when 
 he called me Mademoiselle de Lavalle. This cere- 
 monious title was its most active manifestation ; and I 
 was filled with remorse until the instant when I saw 
 him appear again, his hair blowing in the wind and a 
 smile on his lips.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 j\ /T Y aunt treated me harshly when I was a child, 
 * and I was so afraid of blows that I obeyed her 
 without a word. She beat me even on my sixteenth 
 birthday, but that was the last time. After that day, 
 so full of events of peculiar interest to me, a revolu- 
 tion, which for some months had been secretly gather- 
 ing head in me, broke out all at once and changed 
 completely my behaviour toward her. 
 
 At that time the cure" and I were reviewing the 
 history of France, which I flattered myself I knew very 
 well. Certainly, considering the omissions and the 
 reservations of my book, my knowledge was as com- 
 plete as possible. 
 
 The cure professed a love amounting almost to ven- 
 eration for her kings, and yet he did not admire 
 Francis I. This antipathy was the more singular, for
 
 1 6 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Francis I. was valorous, and is still a popular hero. 
 But he did not please the cure, who lost no opportunity 
 to criticise him; consequently, in a spirit of contra- 
 diction, I selected him as my favourite. 
 
 On the day of which I have spoken above, I was to 
 recite a lesson about my friend. I thought a long 
 time the evening before how I might make him shine 
 in the cure's eyes. Unfortunately I could only quote 
 the words of my history to sustain my views, which 
 were based more on an impression than on actual 
 facts. 
 
 I racked my brains for an hour, when a brilliant idea 
 flashed through my head. 
 
 "The library!" I exclaimed. 
 
 I instantly ran through a long corridor, and entered, 
 for the first time, a room of moderate size lined with 
 shelves covered with books, all firmly bound together 
 by a multitude of spider-webs. It communicated 
 with the rooms which had been closed and never used 
 after my uncle's death, and was so mouldy and close 
 that I was nearly stifled. I made haste to open a tiny 
 window which had neither shutters nor blinds, and 
 gave on the wildest part of the garden; then I pro- 
 ceeded to investigate. But how was I to find Francis 
 I. among all these volumes ? 
 
 I was about to give the thing up when the title of a 
 little book made me cry out for joy; it was the lives 
 of the kings of France to Henry IV. only. A fair en-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. i 7 
 
 graving, showing Francis I. in the splendid costume 
 of the Valois, was inserted. I examined it with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Is it possible," I said to myself in amazement, 
 " that there were men as beautiful as that ? " 
 
 The biographer, who did not share the antipathy 
 of the cure for my hero, praised him without stint. 
 He spoke with an enthusiastic conviction of his 
 beauty, his valour, his chivalrous spirit, and of the 
 enlightened support he extended to letters and the 
 arts. He ended with two lines about his private 
 life, and I learned that of which I was entirely igno- 
 rant, it was this : 
 
 " Francis I. led a joyous life, and loved the ladies 
 dearly. He preferred, above all and sincerely, the 
 lovely Anne de Pisseleu, whom he married to the 
 Comte d'Etampes, whom he had created a duke that 
 he might be more acceptable to her." 
 
 From these words I drew the following conclusions : 
 First, having discovered, within the month, that my 
 life was monotonous, that I lacked many things, that 
 the possession of a cure, an aunt, fowls and rabbits, 
 was not enough to create happiness, I decided that, a 
 joyous life being evidently the opposite of mine, Francis 
 I. had shown great judgment in choosing it ; 
 
 Second, that he certainly practised the holy virtue 
 of charity which my cure preached, since he loved the 
 ladies so much;
 
 j 8 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Third, that Anne de Pisseleu was a fortunate per- 
 son, and that I should have been much pleased to have 
 a king marry me to a count whom he had created a 
 duke to be "more acceptable" to me. 
 
 " Bravo ! " I cried, tossing the book up to the ceil- 
 ing and catching it again skilfully, "here is what 
 will confound the cure, and convert him to my 
 opinion." 
 
 That night in bed I re-read the little biography. 
 
 "What a gallant man was this Francis I. ! " I said to 
 myself. " But why does the author speak of his affec- 
 tion for ladies only? Why does he not say that he 
 loved men too ? After all, each one to his taste ; but 
 if I may judge women by my aunt, I think that I 
 should have a marked preference for the men." 
 
 Then I recalled that the biographer was of the mas- 
 culine gender; and I concluded that he had thought 
 it polite, amiable, and modest to pass over himself 
 and his fellows in silence. 
 
 I went to sleep with this brilliant idea. 
 
 The next day I rose in great good-humour. In the 
 first place, I was sixteen years old ; besides, the little 
 creature who looked at herself in the glass saw a face 
 that did not displease her; then I made two or three 
 pirouettes as I thought of the stupefaction of the cur6 
 before my new learning. 
 
 In my impatience I was installed at my table al- 
 ready for some time when he arrived, rosy and smil-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 19 
 
 ing. At sight of him my heart beat a little, like 
 those of great captains the night before a battle. 
 
 "Come, ma petite," he said, when the exercises 
 were corrected and he had made a face over their brev- 
 ity, "let us take up Francis I., and examine him 
 from all points of view." 
 
 He settled himself comfortably in his chair, took 
 his snuff-box in one hand, his handkerchief in the 
 other, and, looking askance at me, prepared to main- 
 tain the argument which he saw was forthcoming. 
 
 I entered with great speed upon my subject; I grew 
 earnest ; I became excited ; I was enthusiastic. I dwelt 
 at length on the qualities extolled in my history, after 
 which I passed to my especial bits of information, 
 
 "And what a charming man, Monsieur le Cure! 
 His figure was majestic, his face noble and beautiful, 
 with such a lovely beard, worn in a point, and such 
 fine eyes! " 
 
 I stopped for an instant to take breath, and the cure, 
 looking scared and rising with a start like a Jack-in-a- 
 box, cried, - 
 
 "Where have you picked up this stuff, Mademoi- 
 selle?" 
 
 "That is my secret," I said, with a little myste- 
 rious smile. 
 
 And burning my ships, 
 
 " Monsieur le Cure, I cannot think what this poor 
 Francis I. has done to you ! Do you know that he
 
 20 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 had great judgment? He led a joyous life and loved 
 the ladies dearly." 
 
 Then the eyes of the cure" opened so wide that I 
 feared they would leap from their sockets. " Saint 
 Michel! Saint Barnabt!" he exclaimed, and let his 
 snuff-box fall with so loud a noise that the cat, 
 stretched in an easy-chair, leaped to the floor with a 
 despairing miaow. 
 
 My aunt, who was asleep, awoke with a start and 
 cried, 
 
 "Miserable wretch! " 
 
 addressing me and not the cat in tnis fashion, and 
 without knowing what was in question. But this 
 expression invariably began and ended all her remarks. 
 
 I had certainly expected to produce a great effect ; 
 none the less, I was taken a little aback by the ex- 
 traordinary expression on the cure's face. 
 
 But I began again at once, unconcernedly, 
 
 " He loved especially a beautiful woman to whom 
 he gave a duchy. Acknowledge, Monsieur le Cure, 
 that he was very good, and that it would have been 
 most delightful to be in the place of Anne de 
 Pisseleu." 
 
 " Sainte Mere de Dicu ! " murmured the cure, in an 
 inaudible voice, "the child is possessed! " 
 
 " What is it ? " cried my aunt, transfixing her chignon 
 with one of her knitting-needles; "send her out of the 
 room if she is impertinent."
 
 My Uncle and My Ciire. 21 
 
 "My child," said the cure, "where did you learn 
 what you have told me?" 
 
 "In a book," I answered shortly, without mention- 
 ing the library. 
 
 "And how could you repeat such abominations? " 
 
 "Abominations!" I said, scandalized. "What, 
 Monsieur le Cure, do you find it abominable that 
 Francis I. was generous and loved the ladies? Do 
 you not love them, then, yourself?" 
 
 "What does she say?" roared my aunt, who had 
 been listening attentively for some minutes, and who 
 drew from my question the most direful surmises. 
 " Little brazen face, you 
 
 " Peace, my good woman, peace ! " interrupted the 
 cure, appearing all at once relieved of a great weight. 
 " Let me have an explanation with Reine. Let us 
 see; what do you find praiseworthy in the conduct of 
 Francis I. ? " 
 
 "Truly, it is very simple," I answered in a tone a 
 little contemptuous, thinking that my cure must be 
 growing old and slow of comprehension. " You exhort 
 me every day to love my neighbour ; it seems to me that 
 Francis I. put in practice your favourite precept, ' Love 
 your neighbour as yourself, for the love of God. ' ' 
 
 Hardly had I finished my sentence, when the cure, 
 mopping his face, on which rolled great drops of 
 sweat, threw himself back in his chair, and crossing 
 his hands over his stomach, abandoned himself to a
 
 22 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Homeric laugh which lasted so long that tears of 
 vexation and annoyance came to my eyes. 
 
 "Truly," I said in a trembling voice, "I was very 
 foolish to take so much trouble to learn my lesson, 
 and to make you admire Francis I." 
 
 "My good little child," he said at last, regaining 
 his serious tone, and using his favourite expression 
 when he was pleased with me, " my good little child, 
 that which caused me so much astonishment was that 
 I did not know that you felt such an admiration for 
 those who practised the virtue of charity." 
 
 "In any case, it is not a laughing matter," I said in 
 a sullen tone. 
 
 "Come, come, do not let us quarrel." 
 
 And the cure, giving me a little pat on the cheek, 
 cut short the lesson, said that he would return the 
 next day, and went to confiscate the key of the library, 
 which he knew of without my suspecting it. 
 
 He had not even left the court before my aunt 
 rushed at me, shaking me hard enough to dislocate 
 my shoulder. 
 
 " Silly wretch, what have you said, what have you 
 done, to make the cure go so early? " 
 
 "If you do not know the reason," I said, "why do 
 you get angry ? " 
 
 "Ah! I do not know! Did I not hear what you 
 said to the cure, brazen face?" 
 
 Considering words not sufficient to express her
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 23 
 
 wrath, she boxed my ears, struck me roughly, and 
 turned me out of the room like a little dog. 
 
 I fled to my room, where I barricaded the door 
 securely. My first care was to take off my dress, and 
 to note in the glass that my aunt's thin and bony fin- 
 gers had left blue marks on my shoulders. 
 
 "Wretched little slave," I said, pointing my finger 
 at my reflection, "how long will you stand such 
 things? Are you such a coward as not to dare 
 revolt?" 
 
 I admonished myself severely for some minutes; 
 then, a reaction coming, I threw myself into a chair 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 "What have I done," thought I, "to be treated so? 
 The wicked woman ! And yet why was the cure" so 
 amused while I recited my lesson ? " 
 
 And I began to laugh, while the tears rolled down 
 my cheeks. But though I strove hard, I could find 
 no solution to the problem. 
 
 Approaching the open window, I was looking at the 
 garden in melancholy mood, and was regaining my 
 self-possession, when I seemed to recognize the voice 
 of my aunt talking with Suzon. I leaned forward a 
 little to hear their conversation. 
 
 " You should be ashamed !" said Suzon; "the little 
 one is only a child. If you treat her harshly, she will 
 complain to Monsieur de Pavol, who will take her to 
 live with him."
 
 24 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " I would like mightily to see it! But how should 
 she ever think of her uncle? It is a chance if she 
 knows of his existence." 
 
 " Bah ! The child is clever, and a single flash of 
 memory will be enough to send you to the right about, 
 if you make her unhappy; and her good income will 
 disappear with her." 
 
 "Ah! well, we shall see. I will not strike her 
 again, but 
 
 They moved away and I did not hear the end of the 
 sentence. 
 
 After dinner, at which I refused to appear, I went 
 to find Suzon. 
 
 Suzon had been my aunt's friend before becoming 
 her cook. They quarrelled ten times a day, but 
 were not able to live apart. You will hardly believe 
 me when I say that Suzon loved her mistress sincerely, 
 but that is the exact truth. 
 
 But if she forgave my aunt personally her rise on 
 the social ladder, she doubtless cherished a grudge 
 against her fellow-creatures, circumstances, and life, 
 for she never stopped scolding. She had a face bearded 
 like a highwayman, and always wore short petticoats 
 and slippers without heels, though she never went to 
 town to sell the milk, and had no more imagination 
 than Perrette. 
 
 "Suzon," I said to her, planting myself before her 
 deliberately, "I am rich, then?"
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 27 
 
 "Who has told you such stuff, Mademoiselle? " 
 
 " That is no affair of yours, Suzon. I wish you to 
 answer me, and to tell me where my Uncle de Pavol 
 lives." 
 
 " I wish, I wish ! " grumbled Suzon. " She is no 
 longer a child, upon my word. Go about your busi- 
 ness, Mademoiselle; I will tell you nothing, because 
 I know nothing." 
 
 " You are not telling the truth, Suzon, and I forbid 
 you to answer me so. I heard what you said to my 
 aunt just now." 
 
 "Very well, Mademoiselle, if you have heard, it is 
 not necessary for me to take the trouble to tell you." 
 
 Suzon turned her back on me and would not answer 
 any of my questions. 
 
 J returned to my room, thoroughly exasperated ; and, 
 remaining a long time leaning on my elbow at the 
 window, I called the moon, the stars, and the trees to 
 witness that I had formed a firm resolve not to allow 
 myself to be struck, to no longer fear my aunt, and to 
 devote all my wits to making myself disagreeable 
 to her. 
 
 And as I dropped the petals of a flower which I 
 was tearing to pieces, I threw to the winds my fears, 
 my pusillanimity, and my timidity of the past. I felt 
 that I was no longer the same person, and I went to 
 
 sleep comforted. 
 
 During the night I dreamed that my aunt, trans-
 
 28 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 formed into a dragon, fought with Francis I., who 
 slew her with his great sword. He took me in his 
 arms and flew away with me, while the cure watched 
 us with a melancholy air, and mopped his face with 
 his checked handkerchief. Then he wrung it out 
 with all his might, and the sweat ran from it as if it 
 had been soaked in the river.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 'THHE next morning hardly were we seated at our 
 
 -*- table, the cure and I, when the door opened 
 with a crash and we saw Perrine enter, her bonnet on 
 her neck and her sabots, stuffed with straw, in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Is the house on fire ? " demanded my aunt. 
 
 " No, Madame ; but the very devil is to pay. The 
 cow is in the field of barley which is doing so well; 
 she is destroying it all, I cannot get her out. The 
 fowls are on the roof, and the rabbits are in the vege- 
 table-garden. " 
 
 " In the vegetable-garden ! " exclaimed my aunt, who 
 sprang up, darting an angry glance at me, for the 
 kitchen-garden was a sacred place to her, and the 
 object of her only affections.
 
 30 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " My beautiful fowls ! " grumbled Suzon, who judged 
 it a propos to appear and unite her crabbed note with 
 the shrill one of her mistress. 
 
 " Ah, you jade ! " cried my aunt. 
 
 She hurried out at the heels of the servants, slam- 
 ming the door angrily. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure"," I said at once, "do you be- 
 lieve that in the whole world there is another 
 woman as hateful as my aunt ? " 
 
 "Well, wdll! Ma petite, why do you say this?" 
 
 "Do you know what she did yesterday, Monsieur le 
 Cure ? She beat me ! " 
 
 "Beat! " repeated the cure", in a tone of incredulity, 
 so impossible did it appear to him that any one would 
 dare to touch, even with the end of a finger, a little 
 creature as delicate as I. 
 
 "Yes, beat! and if you do not believe me, I will 
 show you the mark of the blows. " 
 
 With the word I began to unbutton my dress. 
 The cure looked straight before him with a fright- 
 ened air. 
 
 "It is not necessary! It is not necessary! I be- 
 lieve your word," he cried hastily, his face crimson, 
 and his eyes modestly directed to the tips of his shoes. 
 
 " To beat me on my sixteenth birthday ! " I went on, 
 re-buttoning my dress. "Do you know, I detest her." 
 
 And I struck the table with my fist and hurt myself, 
 severely.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Come, come, my good little child," said the cure, 
 much disturbed, "calm yourself, and tell me what 
 you did." 
 
 " Nothing at all ! When you left, she called me 
 shameless, and threw herself on me like a fury ! The 
 wicked woman! " 
 
 " Come, Reine, come, you know that we must for- 
 give our enemies." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " I cried, pushing my chair back sud- 
 denly, and striding up and down the salon, " I will 
 never forgive her, never, never!" 
 
 The cure rose too, and began to pace in such fashion 
 that in continuing our conversation we passed each 
 other continually, like the ogre and little Hop o' my 
 Thumb, when he has stolen one of the seven-league 
 boots and the monster is in pursuit. 
 
 " You must be reasonable, Reine, and take this 
 humiliation as a kind of penance for the remission 
 of your sins! " 
 
 " My sins ! " I exclaimed, stopping and shrugging 
 my shoulders slightly; "you know well, Monsieur le 
 Cure, that they are so small, so small, that they are 
 not worth mentioning." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the cure, who was not able to keep 
 back a smile. " Then, since you are a saint, bear your 
 troubles patiently for the love of God." 
 
 "Not I," I answered in a very decided tone; "I am 
 perfectly willing to love the good God a little, not
 
 32 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 too much ; do not frown, Monsieur le Cure, but I 
 understand that he loves me enough not to be at all 
 pleased at seeing me unhappy." 
 
 " What a head ! " exclaimed the cure. " What an 
 education I have given her!" 
 
 "In short," I continued, beginning to pace again, 
 " I wish revenge, and I will have it. " 
 
 "Reine, this is very wrong. Be silent and hear 
 me." 
 
 "Revenge is the delight of the gods," I answered, 
 jumping up to catch a big fly that was hovering over 
 my head. 
 
 " Let us speak seriously, ma petite." 
 
 "But I am speaking seriously," I answered, stop- 
 ping an instant before a glass to note, with some 
 satisfaction, that animation was very becoming to 
 me. "You will see, Monsieur le Cure, I will take a 
 sword, and I will decapitate my aunt as Judith did 
 Holof ernes." 
 
 " The child is mad ! " cried the cure, with a distressed 
 air. " Calm yourself, Mademoiselle, and do not talk 
 foolishness." 
 
 "Very well, Monsieur le Cure; but confess that 
 Judith was not worth two sous." 
 
 The cure" leaned back against the mantel-piece and 
 delicately took a pinch of snuff. 
 
 "Pardon me, ma petite, that depends on the point 
 of view from which one observes her."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 33 
 
 "How illogical you are!" I said. "You think 
 Judith's action superb because she delivered some 
 paltry Jews, who were certainly not worth as much as 
 I, and who ought not to interest you at all, since they 
 have been dead and buried this long time; and you 
 think it very wrong that I should do as much for my 
 own deliverance. And Heaven knows that I am very 
 much alive," I added, spinning around many times 
 on my heels. 
 
 "You have a good opinion of yourself," answered 
 the cure, forcing himself to assume a severe air. 
 
 "Ah, excellent!" 
 
 " Come, will you listen to me now? " 
 
 "I am sure," I said, pursuing my idea, "that Holo- 
 fernes was infinitely more agreeable than my aunt, and 
 that I should have got on with him perfectly. Conse- 
 quently, I cannot see any great objection to my imitat- 
 ing Judith." 
 
 "Reine! " cried the cure, stamping his foot. 
 
 " My dear cure", do not be angry, I beg. You can 
 reassure yourself; I shall not kill my aunt, - I have 
 another way to take my revenge. " 
 
 "Tell it to me," said the excellent man, softened 
 at once, as he fell into a chair. 
 
 I seated myself beside him. 
 
 " Very well. You have heard of my Uncle de Pavol ? " 
 
 "Certainly. He lives near V ." 
 
 " Excellent ! What is the name of his estate? " 
 
 3
 
 34 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Pavol." 
 
 " Then if I wrote to my uncle at the Chateau Pavol 
 near V , the letter would arrive safely? " 
 
 "Without doubt." 
 
 " Then, Monsieur le Cur6, I have found my revenge. 
 You know that though my aunt does not love me, she 
 loves my money." 
 
 "But, my child," said the cure, astounded, "where 
 did you learn this?" 
 
 " I heard her say it herself, so I am sure of what I 
 state. She fears above all that I will complain to 
 Monsieur de Pavol, and that I will ask him to take me 
 to live with him. I count on threatening to write 
 to my uncle; and I do not say," I continued after a 
 moment's hesitation, "that I shall not do it, some 
 day or other." 
 
 "Come, that is harmless enough," said the good 
 cure, smiling. 
 
 "You will see," I cried, clapping my hands; "do 
 you approve? " 
 
 " Yes, up to a certain point, ma petite, for it is 
 clear that you should not be struck ; but I forbid any 
 impertinence. Do not use your weapon except for 
 legitimate defence, and remember that if your aunt 
 has faults, you owe her respect and should not be f 
 in the least aggressive." 
 
 I made an expressive grimace. 
 
 "I promise you nothing; or rather, wait, to be
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 35 
 
 frank, I promise to do exactly the opposite of what 
 you say." 
 
 " It is a veritable revolt ! I shall end by being 
 angry, Reine. " 
 
 "It is more than a revolt," I replied gravely; "it is 
 a revolution." 
 
 "I am at the end of my patience and my wits," 
 muttered the cure. " Mademoiselle de Lavalle, be so 
 good as to submit to my authority." 
 
 "Listen," I went on in a coaxing tone; "I love you 
 with all my heart. You are indeed the only person in 
 the world that I do love. " 
 
 The cure's face brightened. 
 
 "But I detest, I execrate my aunt; my opinions on 
 this subject will never change. I am much more 
 intelligent than she " 
 
 Here the cure, whose face was growing dark, broke 
 in with a hasty exclamation. 
 
 "Do not protest," I went on, watching him slyly: 
 "you know that you are of my opinion." 
 
 "What an education! what an education!" mur- 
 mured the cure, in a piteous tone. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure, my salvation is not jeopardized. 
 Do not disturb yourself. I shall meet you some day 
 or other in heaven, " I resumed. " Having, then, 
 much more intelligence than my aunt, it will be easy to 
 irritate her by my remarks. Last night I swore to
 
 36 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 myself to be very disagreeable. I called the moon 
 and stars to witness my oath." 
 
 "My child," said the cure", "you are not willing to 
 hear me, and you will be sorry." 
 
 " Bah ! We shall see about that ! I hear my aunt ; 
 she is furious because it was I who let out the cow, 
 the fowls, and rabbits, in order to be alone with you. 
 Give her a talking to, Monsieur le Cure. I assure you 
 that she struck me very hard ; I have black marks on 
 my shoulders." 
 
 My aunt entered like a hurricane, and the stunned 
 cure had no time to answer me. 
 
 " Reine, come here ! " she cried, her face purple with 
 rage and the hurried chase she had had after the rabbits. 
 
 I made her a deep courtesy. 
 
 "I leave you with the cure," I said, darting a look 
 of intelligence at my ally. 
 
 The window, most fortunately, was open. 
 
 I jumped into a chair, threw my legs over the sill, 
 and let myself drop into the garden, to the great aston- 
 ishment of my aunt, who had stationed herself before 
 the door to cut off my retreat. 
 
 I confess that I pretended to run away, but that in 
 reality I hid behind a laurel and had such delight as 
 never before in hearing the reproaches of the cure and 
 the furious exclamations of my aunt. That evening, 
 during dinner, she had the pleasant manners of a 
 mastiff from whom one has taken a bone.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 39 
 
 She scolded Suzon, who bade her mind her business, 
 maltreated her cat, and threw the silver on the table 
 with a horrible noise; finally, exasperated at my 
 impassible and satirical air, she seized a carafe, and 
 threw it out of the window. 
 
 I instantly seized a dish of rice, which she had not 
 yet tasted, and sent it after the carafe. 
 
 "Miserable fool!" shouted my aunt, darting toward 
 me. 
 
 "Do not come near me," I said, retreating; "if you 
 touch me, I will write to my Uncle de Pavol. " 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed my aunt, standing petrified, her 
 arm raised. 
 
 "If not to-night, "I added, "to-morrow, or in a day 
 or two, for I do not propose to be beaten." 
 
 " Your uncle will not believe you," cried my aunt. 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed. Your fingers have left their 
 mark on my shoulders. I know that he is very kind, 
 and I will go to him." 
 
 I had really no knowledge of my uncle's character, 
 as I was six years old when I saw him for the first and 
 last time. But I thought that I ought to appear to 
 have known about him for a long time, and that by so 
 doing I should show great diplomacy. I went out 
 majestically, leaving my aunt to overflow into the 
 breast of Suzon.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 XT 7AR was declared; and from that moment I 
 * * passed my time in fighting Madame de La- 
 valle. Until then I had hardly dared to open my 
 mouth before her, unless the cure made a third; for 
 she would bid me be silent even before I had finished 
 my sentence. 
 
 I assure you that this method of procedure was par- 
 ticularly disagreeable to me, because I am extremely 
 fond of talking. I made up for it a little with the 
 cure, but this was entirely insufficient. I had, be- 
 sides, acquired the habit of talking aloud to myself. 
 I often took my stand before my mirror and talked to 
 my reflection for whole hours.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 41 
 
 My dear mirror! faithful friend! confidant of my 
 most secret thoughts! 
 
 I do not know whether men have ever considered 
 seriously the enormous influence which this little piece 
 of furniture can exercise on the mind. Note that I do 
 not specify the sex of the mind, being perfectly con- 
 vinced that individuals with beards have as much 
 pleasure in observing their appearance as we. 
 
 If I were writing a philosophic work, I should select 
 as my subject, The Influence of the Mirror on the In- 
 tellect and Heart of Mankind. 
 
 I do not deny that my treatise would perhaps be 
 unique of its kind, that it would in no way resemble 
 the philosophy in which Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and 
 others have dabbled all their lives, to their own great 
 glory, and the still greater happiness of posterity, 
 which reads them with an interest the more keen that 
 it understands nothing. No; my treatise will not fol- 
 low at all in the footsteps of these gentlemen. It will 
 be clear, concise, practical, with a touch of the caustic ; 
 and one must push the love of contradiction very far 
 not to admit that these characteristics do not apper- 
 tain to the philosophies above mentioned. But not 
 finding my knowledge sufficiently ripe for this great 
 work, I content myself with cherishing for my mirror 
 a sincere affection, and with looking at myself every 
 day for a long time in a spirit of thankfulness. 
 
 I am perfectly aware that in face of this revelation
 
 42 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 some of those peevish, fault-finding spirits who see 
 everything at its darkest will insinuate that coquetry 
 plays a great part in the feeling which I profess for 
 my mirror. Mon Dieu / one is not perfection, and 
 note, good reader, that if you are sincere, which 
 is by no means certain, you will acknowledge that 
 personal interest, to use no harsher word, holds first 
 place in the greater part of your opinions. 
 
 To return to my subject, I will say that, having 
 broken entirely with my old fears, I no longer tried 
 to restrain my loquacity before my aunt. There was 
 not a meal when we did not have discussions that 
 threatened to degenerate into tempests. 
 
 Although I did not yet know her origin, I was not 
 slow to discover that she was as ignorant as a carp, 
 and that she experienced a lively vexation when I 
 supported my opinions by my knowledge or that of 
 the cure", though as to that, I never hesitated to 
 give the authority of history to ideas drawn from my 
 own brain. Unfortunately it was not possible for me 
 to combat the personal experience of my aunt; and 
 when she asserted that things were thus and so in the 
 world, that men were nothing at all but scamps and 
 tools of Satan, I was angry because I could make no 
 reply. I had enough good sense to perceive that the 
 persons with whom I was living could give me a most 
 imperfect idea of human kind in the ordinary cir- 
 cumstances of life.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 43 
 
 The cure dined with us every Sunday. He had, 
 doubtless, his private reasons for not crying up the 
 lords of creation before me, except when it con- 
 cerned his heroes of antiquity, on behalf of whom he 
 had no longer to fear an enterprising spirit, be- 
 cause he offered the weakest denials to the asser- 
 tions of my aunt. 
 
 The Sunday dinner was composed invariably of a 
 capon or a fowl, a salad of hard-boiled eggs, and curds, 
 if it were the season. The cure, whose cheer was of 
 the slightest at home, and whose palate could appreci- 
 ate Suzon's cooking, used to arrive rubbing his hands, 
 and declaring himself famished. 
 
 We placed ourselves at the table immediately, and 
 the beginning of the conversation was as invariable as 
 the menu. 
 
 "It is beautiful weather," my aunt would say. Her 
 remark, if it rained, was varied only by a change of 
 the adjective. 
 
 "Superb weather," the cure would answer joyously. 
 "It is delightful to walk in the bright sunshine." 
 
 If it had rained, if it had snowed, if it had frozen, 
 if it had hailed stones and brimstone, the cure" would 
 have expressed his satisfaction as strongly as if expa- 
 tiating on the charms of a snug room or singing the 
 praises of a blazing fire. 
 
 "But it is not cold," my aunt would add. "It is 
 astonishing. In my time we put on white dresses at 
 Easter."
 
 44 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Were white dresses becoming to you?" I would 
 ask eagerly. 
 
 My aunt, who foresaw some impertinence, launched 
 a forbidding look at me before replying, 
 
 "Certainly, very becoming." 
 
 " Oh ! " I would exclaim, in a tone which left no 
 doubt as to my private opinion. 
 
 "In my time," my aunt would say, "little girls did 
 not speak unless they were spoken to." 
 
 " You never spoke when you were young, Aunt ? " 
 
 "When some one spoke to me, not otherwise." 
 
 "And were all the girls like you, Aunt? " 
 
 "Certainly, my niece. " 
 
 " What a horrible time ! " I would sigh, raising my 
 eyes to heaven. 
 
 The cure would look at me reproachfully, and 
 Madame de Lavalle would eye the different objects 
 on the table, evidently greatly tempted to throw some- 
 thing at my head. 
 
 Conversation, having reached this acute stage, would 
 cease suddenly, until my aunt's sharp humours, held 
 in check by an effort of will, exploded all at once like 
 a boiler subjected to too strong pressure. She would 
 vent her wrath upon all creation. Men, women, and 
 children, nothing escaped it. Of the poor men there 
 was left at the dinner's end only a horrible mixture, 
 not of bones and mangled flesh, but of monsters of all 
 kinds.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 45 
 
 "Men are not worth a dog's trotters," my aunt 
 would say, in the harmonious and choice language 
 which was habitual to her. 
 
 The cure, who realized the unfortunate fact that he 
 was not a woman, lowered his head and appeared full 
 of contrition. 
 
 " What miscreants ! what scamps ! " my aunt would 
 go on, regarding me with a furious look, as if I be- 
 longed to the class in question. 
 
 " Humph ! " the cure would say. 
 
 " Creatures who think of nothing but to enjoy them- 
 selves and eat," she would add, smarting under the 
 poverty bequeathed her by her husband. " What tools 
 of Satan ! " 
 
 " Humph ! humph ! " the cure would say again, nod- 
 ding his head. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure," I would cry impatiently, 
 "'humph' is not a very strong argument." 
 
 "Allow me, allow me," the worthy man would 
 say, disturbed in the enjoyment of his dinner. " I 
 think that Madame de Lavalle said more than she 
 really meant in using the expression ' tools of Satan. ' 
 But it is true that there are many men who do not in- 
 spire much confidence." 
 
 "You are like Francis I., you prefer the ladies," I 
 would say, with my little candid air. 
 
 " Palsambleu! " my aunt would cry. She had re- 
 placed certain most expressive words of her own with
 
 46 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 this one, borrowed from her husband, which seemed to 
 her thoroughly aristocratic, " Palsambleu ! hold your 
 tongue, fool ! " 
 
 But the cure" would make a mysterious sign, and the 
 excellent woman would bite her lips. 
 
 "And your heroes, Monsieur le Cure, your Greeks 
 and Romans?" 
 
 "Oh, the men of to-day are not in the least like 
 those of antiquity," the cure would say, entirely cer- 
 tain that he expressed a great truth. 
 
 "And the cures? " I would ask. 
 
 "The cure's are not under consideration," he would 
 answer with a pleasant smile. 
 
 This kind of conversation, filled with hidden mean- 
 ings, had the effect of stimulating me tremendously. 
 I became aware that a world of ideas and sentiments 
 was unknown to me, and that I ought to lose no time in 
 discovering it. I had my doubts as to the absolute jus- 
 tice of my aunt's condemnation of humanity; but I un- 
 derstood that I was ignorant of many things, and that 
 I was likely to remain a long time in my ignorance. 
 
 One morning when I was meditating on this lament- 
 able state of affairs, the idea occurred to me to consult 
 the three persons whom I was able to see every day : 
 Jean the farmer, Perrine, and Suzon. 
 
 The last-named having lived at C , I decided 
 
 that her estimate ought to be based on a wide experi- 
 ence, and I reserved her for a bonne bouche.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 47 
 
 Wrapping myself in a cloak, I took my sabots and 
 the road to the farm, which was about a half-mile from 
 the house. 
 
 Paddling, splashing, plunging, I reached Jean, who 
 was cleaning his plough. 
 
 "Good-morning, Jean." 
 
 "Good-morning, Mamselle," said Jean, taking off 
 his worsted hat; whereupon all his hair stood up 
 straight on his head. When it was not under pres- 
 sure, it was given to indulging in this little practice. 
 
 " I come to consult you on a subject very, very im- 
 portant," I said, emphasizing the adverb to awaken his 
 wits, which I knew were disposed to be wool gather- 
 ing when he was questioned. 
 
 " At your service, Mamselle. " 
 
 "My aunt says that all men are scamps; what is 
 your opinion on the subject, Jean?" 
 
 "Scamps!" repeated Jean, opening his eyes as if he 
 perceived a monster before him. 
 
 "Yes; but that is my aunt's opinion, and I wish 
 yours." 
 
 " Dame ! it ought to be the same." 
 
 " But that is not an opinion, Jean. Come, do you 
 believe, yes or no, that men are generally scamps?" 
 
 Jean laid the first finger of his right hand on the 
 end of his nose, which is, as every one is aware, the 
 evidence of profound thought. 
 
 After having reflected a good minute, he made me 
 this clear and decisive answer,
 
 48 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " Listen, Mamselle ; I will tell you. It may be yes, 
 but then it may be no." 
 
 " Blockhead ! " I exclaimed, indignant at contem- 
 plating such phenomenal stupidity. 
 
 He opened his eyes; he opened his mouth; he 
 opened his hands; he would have opened his entire 
 person if he had been able, to show his astonishment 
 better. 
 
 I returned to the courtyard of Buisson, storming 
 at the mud, my sabots, Jean, and myself. 
 
 "Perrine," I cried, "come here." 
 
 Perrine, who was cleaning her milk-pans, ran at once, 
 a bunch of nettles in her hand, her arms bare, her face 
 red as a lady apple, and her bonnet on the back of her 
 head, as was her habit. 
 
 " What is your opinion about men ? " I asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " About men ! " 
 
 And Perrine changed from the red of an apple to 
 that of a peony, dropped her nettles, seized the corner 
 of her apron, lifted her left foot and remained perched 
 on the right, while she looked at me with amazement. 
 
 "Well, then, answer! What do you think of men? " 
 
 "Mamselle is making fun of me, surely! " 
 
 "Not at all; I am speaking seriously. Answer 
 quickly." 
 
 "Dame! Mamselle," said Perrine, standing erect 
 again on her two legs, "when they are handsome lads 
 my opinion is that there are worse things to look at. "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 49 
 
 This way of considering the question gave me great 
 matter for reflection. 
 
 "I am not speaking of their personal appearance," 
 I said, shrugging my shoulders, "but of their 
 character." 
 
 " Ma foi ! I have found them most amiable," an- 
 swered Perrine, whose little eyes sparkled. 
 
 "What! you have not found them miscreants, 
 scamps, tools of Satan? " 
 
 Perrine burst into a broad laugh. 
 
 " You see, Mamselle, the talk of these miscreants is 
 so pleasant that " 
 
 Here she broke off and gave her head a great thump 
 with her fist. She twisted her apron, dropped her 
 eyes, and seemed disposed to take to her heels. 
 
 " What next ? finish your sentence ! " 
 
 "Mamselle makes me talk nonsense, that is cer- 
 tain. I am going. " 
 
 And making me her best courtesy, she disappeared 
 in the depths of the dairy, shutting the door in my 
 face. 
 
 Why did she say nonsense? Come, Suzon is my last 
 resource ; it remains to be seen if she will speak. 
 
 I went into the kitchen. Suzon, armed with a broom, 
 was preparing for active work. It seemed to me that 
 she had one of her blue days, and I judged that it 
 would be judicious to use some oratorical skill in pro- 
 pounding my question.
 
 50 My Unck and My Cure. 
 
 " How beautiful your coppers are, and how they 
 shine!" I said graciously. 
 
 "I do the best I can," grumbled Suzon. "After 
 all, those who don't like it have only to say so." 
 
 "Your fricassee of fowl is a great success, Suzon," 
 I continued, undiscouraged ; "you must teach me how 
 to make it." 
 
 "It is not proper work for you, Mademoiselle; stay 
 in your own part of the house and leave me in peace 
 in my kitchen." 
 
 My methods of conciliation not producing any effect, 
 I turned my batteries in another direction. 
 
 "Do you know one thing, Suzon? You must have 
 been very pretty when you were young," I said, 
 thinking to myself that if I had been her husband 
 I would have put her to bake in the oven to get rid 
 of her. 
 
 I had touched a responsive chord, for Suzon deigned 
 to smile. 
 
 "Every one was pretty once, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Suzon," I resumed, profiting by this sudden soften- 
 ing to get more quickly to my subject, " I want to ask 
 one question. What is your opinion of men and 
 women?" I added, thinking it ingenious to extend my 
 studies to both sexes. 
 
 Suzon leaned on her broom, assumed her most 
 severe expression, and answered me with absolute 
 conviction,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 51 
 
 " Women, Mademoiselle, are not much, but men are 
 nothing at all. " 
 
 " Oh ! " I protested ; " are you sure ? " 
 "As sure as that I speak to you, Mademoiselle." 
 She gave a great blow with her broom to the parings 
 of vegetables that were on the floor, and made them 
 disappear with as much dexterity as if they repre- 
 sented the bipeds so obnoxious to her. 
 
 I retired to my room to meditate on the misan- 
 thropic axiom of Suzon, discouraged enough to think 
 that I was not much, and that my unknown friends, 
 the men, merited the humiliating description of being 
 nothing at all.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "V TEVERTHELESS, my studies of morals appear- 
 *- ^ ing to me totally inadequate, I resolved to 
 continue them with the aid of the romances in the 
 library. 
 
 Regularly on a Monday, the day of the fair, my 
 
 aunt, the cure, and Suzon went together to C . 
 
 My aunt had decided, as she always did, that I should 
 remain under the charge of Perrine, and for the first 
 time in my life, I was enchanted at this decision. I 
 was sure to be left to my own devices, Perrine busy- 
 ing herself far more with her cow than with my 
 doings.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 53 
 
 For an excursion such as this the farmer, at eight 
 o'clock in the morning, brought into the courtyard a 
 sort of tilted cart, called in those parts a maringote. 
 My aunt appeared in her best clothes, her head adorned 
 with a round hat of black felt, to which she had fas- 
 tened strings of tender violet. She placed it jauntily 
 on the top of her chignon. She was wrapped in furs, 
 whether it was warm or cold, having since her mar- 
 riage adopted the belief that a lady of quality should 
 never travel without carrying upon her the skin of 
 some animal. When she was thus arrayed, she firmly 
 believed that the evidences of her origin were effaced. 
 
 She seated herself at the back of the maringote on a 
 chair, upon which was placed a pillow, in order that 
 that delicate part of the person which a modest pen 
 refuses to name might not be injured. 
 
 Suzon, who was to drive a horse who drove himself, 
 placed herself on the right of the seat before her, and 
 the cure climbed up by her side. 
 
 Then, as one man, they turned to me. 
 
 "Don't do anything foolish," said my aunt, "and 
 don't go into the kitchen-garden." 
 
 "Don't make a mess in my kitchen," said Suzon, 
 "and be satisfied with cold veal for breakfast." 
 
 The cur6 did not say a word, but he smiled at me 
 pleasantly, and made a gesture as if to say, 
 
 " I would have liked very much to take you, but 
 she would not."
 
 54 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 On this memorable Monday all went as usual. I 
 took a few steps along the road and saw them disap- 
 pear, shaking, all three, like salad-baskets. 
 
 Without losing an instant, I put into execution a 
 plan which had been ripening for a long time. It was 
 no other than to take possession of the library, whose 
 key the cure had had the unlucky idea of carrying off, 
 but I was not the girl to be discouraged by such a 
 trifle. 
 
 I ran to get a ladder, which I dragged under the 
 library window; after superhuman efforts I succeeded 
 in raising it, and planting it solidly against the wall. 
 Clambering quickly up the rounds, I broke a pane of 
 glass with a stone with which I had armed myself: 
 then taking out the pieces of glass sticking to the 
 sash, I passed the upper part of my body through the 
 opening, and dropped into the library. 
 
 I fell head-first on the floor, and made a huge bump 
 on my forehead; and the cure", the next day, brought 
 me an ointment for it. 
 
 My first care, when I had picked myself up, and the 
 dizziness caused by my fall had passed off, was to 
 rummage the drawers of an old bureau for a key like 
 the one the cure had carried off. My search was not 
 long, and after one or two unsuccessful attempts I 
 found what I wanted. 
 
 After having concealed as far as possible the evi- 
 dences of my house-breaking, I settled myself in a
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 57 
 
 chair, and while I rested from my exertions, my eye 
 was caught by the works of Walter Scott on a shelf 
 in front of me. I chose one at random from the set, 
 and went to my room, carrying, as if it were a treas- 
 ure, "The Fair Maid of Perth." 
 
 In all my life I had never read a romance, and I fell 
 into an ecstasy, a rapture, which cannot be expressed. 
 Should I live nine hundred and sixty-nine years, like 
 the good Methuselah, I shall never forget my impres- 
 sions on reading "The Fair Maid of Perth." 
 
 I felt the joy of a prisoner transported from his cell 
 into the midst of trees, flowers, and sunshine, or bet- 
 ter still, of an artist who hears played for the first time, 
 and to perfection, the work of his heart and brain. 
 That unknown world, for which I was unconsciously 
 sighing, was opened to me all at once. A light shone 
 suddenly into my brain, which I had thought until 
 then dull and idiotic. I was intoxicated, inebriated, 
 by this romance, so full of colour, life, and movement. 
 
 That evening I went, as in a dream, down to the 
 dining-room, where the cure, who was to take dinner 
 with us, was impatiently awaiting me. 
 
 He looked at my face with deep sympathy, and 
 asked, with the greatest interest, how the accident 
 had happened. 
 
 " An accident ?" I said with astonishment. 
 
 "Your forehead is all black and blue, ma petite 
 Reine."
 
 58 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "The blockhead has been climbing up a tree or a 
 ladder," said my aunt. 
 
 "A ladder; yes, you are right," I answered. 
 
 "My poor child! " cried the cure; "you fell on your 
 head?" 
 
 I made a sign of assent. 
 
 " Have you used arnica, ma petite ? " 
 
 "Bah! it serves her right," said my aunt. "Eat 
 your soup, Monsieur le Cure, and do not trouble 
 about this giddy pate. She got no more than she 
 deserves." 
 
 The cure" said no more, but made a little friendly 
 sign, and watched me stealthily. 
 
 But I did not pay much attention to what went on 
 around me. I was thinking of that charming Cathe- 
 rine Glover, and that brave Henry Smith, with whom 
 I had fallen in love until some one better should come 
 along, when, behold, without the slightest warning 
 I broke into sobs. 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu!" cried the cure, springing up. 
 "My dear little Reine! my good little child!" 
 
 "Leave her alone," said my aunt; "she is sulky 
 because she did not go with us to C . " 
 
 But the cure", who knew that I detested tears, and 
 that I was too proud to show before my aunt any mor- 
 tification of which she was the cause, came to me, and 
 asked in a low tone why I cried, and tried to comfort 
 me.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 59 
 
 "There is nothing the matter, my dear, good cureV' 
 I said, drying my tears and trying to smile. " You 
 see I have a horror of pain, my head aches, and then 
 I must be a spectacle." 
 
 " No more than usual," said my aunt. 
 
 The cure looked at me uneasily. He was not satis- 
 fied with my explanation, and said to himself that 
 something out of the common had happened during 
 the day. He advised me to go to bed without delay, 
 which I did straightway. 
 
 I was mortified at having made an exhibition of 
 feeling, and all the more mortified that I did not 
 know why I had cried. Was it from pleasure or vex- 
 ation? I could not tell, and I went to sleep saying 
 to myself that it was useless to try to analyze my 
 feeling. 
 
 During the following month I devoured the greater 
 part of Walter Scott's works. Truly, since then I 
 have had deep and real joys ; but however great they 
 have been, I do not know that they have been more 
 keen than those I experienced when my mind emerged 
 from its mist, like a butterfly from its chrysalis. I 
 went from rapture to rapture, from ecstasy to ecstasy. 
 I thought of nothing but my romances and the charac- 
 ters that excited my imagination. 
 
 When the cure explained to me a problem, I thought 
 of Rebecca, whom I had left t$te-a-t$tc with the Tem- 
 plar; when he gave me a course of history, I saw
 
 60 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 march before me those delightful heroes, among whom 
 my fickle heart had already chosen more than a dozen 
 husbands; when he reproached me, I did not hear more 
 than half, being engaged in designing a costume like 
 that of Queen Elizabeth or Amy Robsart. 
 
 "What have you done to-day?" he would ask on 
 arriving. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "How nothing? " 
 
 "All this wearies me," I would say with a tired 
 air. 
 
 The poor cure was in dismay. He concocted long 
 exordiums, and delivered them at me without stopping 
 for breath; but he would have produced as much effect 
 had he addressed a redskin. 
 
 Presently I became all at once very depressed. If my 
 aunt no longer struck me, she made up for it by say- 
 ing disagreeable things. She had discovered that I 
 was mortified at being so small. She never lost an 
 opportunity to wound me in this vulnerable spot ; she 
 called me a shrimp, and kept reiterating that I was 
 ugly. 
 
 Not long before, I had thought myself very pretty, 
 and had much more confidence in my opinion than in 
 my aunt's. But in making acquaintance with Walter 
 Scott's heroines, a misgiving arose in my mind. They 
 were so beautiful that I was wretched at the thought 
 that one must be like them to be loved.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 61 
 
 The cure, through very sympathy, lost his smiles 
 and his colour. He watched me with a tearful look, 
 spent his time in taking snuff, forgetting all the 
 etiquette of the art, and tried to discover my secret, 
 employing Machiavellian means to gain his ends, but 
 I was impenetrable. 
 
 One day I saw him go toward the library, but I had 
 been careful not to leave the key in the lock; he 
 came back shaking his head, and running his hands 
 through his hair, which, more disordered than ever, 
 looked like a plume. 
 
 I was hidden behind a door, and when he passed 
 near me, I heard him mutter, 
 
 "I will come back with the key." 
 
 This decision annoyed me greatly. I said to myself 
 that he would surely discover my secret, and that I 
 should not be able to continue my beloved reading. 
 
 I went at once to get some volumes, which I took 
 to my room, replacing them on the shelves by books 
 taken at random, but, despite my precautions, I felt 
 sure that the square of paper with which I had re- 
 placed the broken pane would cry aloud against me. 
 
 It was on that day, while examining some letters 
 which I found in the bureau, I discovered my aunt's 
 origin. It gave me a weapon against her which I 
 resolved not to delay in using. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast she was in a bad 
 humour. When she was in that state of mind, if she
 
 62 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 could not find a pretext for being disagreeable to me, 
 she did not wait for it. 
 
 I was dreaming of that charming Buckingham, who 
 seemed to me adorable with his insolence, his fine 
 clothes, his bows, and his wit, and I was asking my- 
 self why Alice Bridgenorth was in despair at finding 
 herself at his house, when my aunt said to me without 
 preamble, 
 
 " How ugly you are this morning, Reine! " 
 
 I started in my seat. 
 
 "Here it is," I said, handing her the salt. 
 
 " I did not ask for the salt, idiot. Truly, you have 
 become as stupid as you are ugly ! " 
 
 It is to be noted that my aunt never addressed me 
 affectionately. From the day that she became my 
 uncle's wife, she believed it due to the dignity of her 
 position to suppress any affectionate expressions. She 
 spoke to me as she did to her rabbits. 
 
 "I do not share your opinion," I answered dryly; "I 
 think myself very pretty." 
 
 " A good joke ! " exclaimed my aunt. " Pretty ! you ! 
 a little shrimp not higher than the mantel-piece!" 
 
 " It is better to be like a delicate plant than to just 
 miss being a man," I answered. 
 
 My aunt firmly believed that she had been a beauty, 
 and would not tolerate jesting on that subject. 
 
 " I was beautiful, Mademoiselle, so beautiful that 
 they called my sister and me goddesses ! "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 63 
 
 " Did your sister look like you, Aunt? " 
 
 "Very much; we were twins." 
 
 "Her husband ought to have been a happy man," I 
 said impressively. 
 
 My aunt uttered a bad word, which I will not allow 
 my pen to repeat. 
 
 "As to that," I resumed calmly, "you have naturally 
 the tastes of a woman of the people, while I, I - 
 
 But I stopped open-mouthed in the midst of my sen- 
 tence ; my aunt had smashed her plate with the handle 
 of her knife. What I had said showed that all the 
 efforts she had hitherto made to conceal her birth 
 from me had been of no avail, and revenged me in 
 full for all her unkindness. 
 
 " You are a serpent ! " she cried in a choked voice. 
 
 "I think not, Aunt." 
 
 "A serpent!" 
 
 "You have said that already," I answered, tranquilly 
 swallowing my last strawberry. 
 
 " A serpent warmed in my bosom ! " repeated my 
 aunt, too angry to draw further on her imagination. 
 
 I shook my head, saying to myself that if I were a 
 serpent, I should certainly decline to assume that posi- 
 tion of my own free will. 
 
 "Permit me," I resumed; "I have studied this ani- 
 mal in my natural history, and I have never seen that 
 it had the habit of being warmed in the bosom of any 
 one whatsoever."
 
 64 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 My aunt, always disconcerted when I referred to my 
 reading, made no answer, but the expression of her 
 face seemed to me so little reassuring that I made 
 haste to be off, singing at the top of my voice, "II 
 tait une fois un oncle de Pavol, de Pavol, de Pavol. " 
 
 We were at the middle of June. Butterflies were 
 flying everywhere; flies were buzzing; the air was full 
 of a thousand odours, in short, the weather was so 
 charming that I forgot my usual prudence. I took 
 my book, and settled myself in a meadow in the 
 shadow of a haystack. 
 
 My heart was a little heavy as I thought of what my 
 aunt had said. It is certainly most distressing to 
 be so small, so very small. Who would ever fall in 
 love with me? But I comforted myself by reading 
 "Peveril of the Peak." Among all Scott's novels this 
 was my first choice, precisely because of Fenella, 
 whose figure was certainly smaller than mine. 
 
 I loved, I adored, Buckingham. I was in a rage at 
 Fenella, who said to him things that were really very 
 severe, and at the moment when she disappeared 
 through the window, I stopped reading to exclaim: 
 
 " Little simpleton ! such a charming man ! " 
 
 As I uttered the words, I raised my eyes, and gave 
 a loud cry, for there was the cure, standing before me. 
 With folded arms he looked at me in astonishment. 
 He seemed as dismayed as the individual in fairy 
 stories who finds his diamonds changed to nuts.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 67 
 
 I rose a little shamefacedly, because I had been 
 abominably entrapped. 
 
 " Oh, Reine ! " he began. 
 
 "My dear cure," I cried, pressing " Peveril of the 
 Peak " to my heart, " I beg you, I pray you, let me 
 keep on ! " 
 
 " Reine ! my little Reine ! I never would have be- 
 lieved it of you." 
 
 This gentleness softened me, the more that my con- 
 science was not entirely clear; so I set myself to lead 
 him from the subject by tactics peculiarly feminine. 
 
 "It was a distraction, Monsieur le Cure, and I am 
 so unhappy." 
 
 " Unhappy, Reine ? " 
 
 " Do you think it can. be amusing to have an aunt 
 like mine? She does not beat me any more, it is true; 
 but she says things which give me so much pain." 
 
 How well I understood my cure! He had already 
 forgotten his displeasure and his reproaches, the 
 more that there was a solid foundation of truth to 
 my words. 
 
 " Is that the reason you are so depressed, my good 
 little child?" 
 
 "Certainly, Monsieur le Cure. Consider that my 
 aunt tells me in every possible way that I am a 
 shrimp, and that I am ugly enough to frighten one." 
 
 My eyes filled with tears, for the subject was one 
 that went right to my heart.
 
 68 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 The good cure, very much disturbed, rubbed his 
 nose with a perplexed air. He was far from sharing 
 my aunt's ideas on this point, and was considering 
 how he might remove my mortification without awak- 
 ening in my soul pride, vanity, and the other con- 
 comitants of damnation. 
 
 " Come, Reine, we must not attach too much impor- 
 tance to things which perish so quickly." 
 
 "Meanwhile, they exist at the present moment," I 
 replied; thus being in accord, after an interval of 
 two centuries, with the thought of the most beautiful 
 daughter of France. 
 
 "And then, you see, perhaps there are people who 
 do not think as Madame de Lavalle. " 
 
 "Are you one of them, Monsieur le Cure? Do you 
 think me pretty? " 
 
 "Ye-es," answered the cur6, in a tone of commis- 
 eration. 
 
 "Very pretty?" 
 
 "But but yes," answered the cur6, in the same 
 tone. 
 
 "Ah, how happy I am ! " I cried, pirouetting. "How 
 I love you, my dear cure ! " 
 
 ' This is all very well, Reine, but you have com- 
 mitted a serious fault. You have forced your way 
 into the library at the risk of breaking your neck, 
 and you have read books which I should probably 
 never have given you."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 69 
 
 "Walter Scott, Monsieur le Cure, only Walter 
 Scott. My literature speaks very highly of him." 
 
 And I described to him all my impressions. I 
 talked volubly for a long time, charmed to see that 
 the cure not only had no intention of scolding me, 
 but that he listened with interest to what I was say- 
 ing. At the sight of my enthusiasm and my cheer- 
 fulness, regained as if by magic, he recovered his 
 colour and his smiling looks. 
 
 " Come," he said to me, " I will allow you to con- 
 tinue to read Walter Scott, I will even re-read him 
 myself so that I may discuss him with you, but prom- 
 ise me that you will not renew your escapade." 
 
 I gave him the promise joyfully, and from that time 
 we had a new subject of discussion and dispute, for, 
 be it understood, we were never of the same mind. 
 
 But soon the interest which I felt for my romances 
 was effaced by a surprising, an unheard-of event, 
 which took place some weeks later at Buisson. It 
 was one of those events which do not make empires 
 tremble to their base, but which fill the heart or the 
 imagination of young girls with disturbing thoughts.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TT was a Sunday. 
 
 *- On Sunday we regularly attended High Mass, 
 which was the only morning service, the cure having 
 no vicaire. My aunt entered our armorial pew first; 
 I followed her; Suzon came next; and Perrine closed 
 the file. 
 
 Our little church was old and wretched. The origi- 
 nal colour of the walls had disappeared under a sort 
 of green slime, caused by the dampness; and the floor, 
 instead of being level, had many fissures and hillocks 
 which invited the faithful to break their necks, and 
 take advantage of being in a sacred place to rise the 
 sooner to the skies. The altar was decorated with fig- 
 ures of angels, painted by the village wheelwright, 
 who prided himself on being an artist ; two or three 
 saints surveyed themselves with surprise, astonished
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 71 
 
 at their own ugliness. Often, in looking at them, I 
 have said to myself that if I were a saint, and mortals 
 represented me in so hideous a fashion, I should be 
 absolutely deaf to their prayers ; but perhaps the saints 
 have not my temperament. Through a broken win- 
 dow a white rose lifted its perfumed head, and by its 
 beauty and freshness seemed to protest against the 
 bad taste of men. 
 
 We were the owners of a harmonium of which only 
 three notes sounded ; sometimes the number rose to 
 five, the instrument, owing to the weather, being sub- 
 ject to caprices, like the rheumatism of our precentor, 
 who roared for two hours in so naive and so profound 
 a belief that he had a fine voice that it was impossi- 
 ble to be out of patience with him. 
 
 The tabouret of the officiant was placed at the foot 
 of a chasm, in such a way that from my position I 
 could see only the head and shoulders of the cure, 
 who had the appearance of undergoing punishment. 
 The choir-boys made faces and whispered behind his 
 back, without its occurring to him to be annoyed. 
 
 After the Gospels he took off his chasuble and stole 
 before us, it was all in the family, tripped over 
 some holes, and reached the pulpit. 
 
 Among the men and women who live and struggle 
 the wide world over, I suppose there is not one who, 
 at some time in his life, has not had an aspiration. 
 Man, be his position low or high, cannot live without
 
 72 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 longings ; and the cur, obeying the common law, had 
 for thirty years of his life dreamed of having a pulpit. 
 
 Unhappily, he was very poor; his parishioners were 
 equally so; and my aunt, who was the only person who 
 could help him, made no response to his timid hints. 
 Besides being niggardly in the matter of giving, she 
 had the very slightest consideration for the cure's 
 aspiration. 
 
 At last, by dint of economy, the cure found himself 
 one day the master of two hundred francs. He re- 
 solved then to realize his dream, for good or evil. 
 
 One morning I saw him arrive, out of breath. 
 
 " Ma petite Reine, come with me! " he cried. 
 
 " Where, Monsieur le Cure? " 
 
 " To the church, come quick!" 
 
 " But Mass is over!" 
 
 " Yes, yes; but I have something charming to show 
 you ! " 
 
 He had such a joyous air, his kindly figure breathed 
 such lightheartedness, that I laugh now when I think 
 of it, and his delight is one of my most cherished 
 memories of those days. 
 
 He did not walk, he flew; and we reached the 
 church on a run. Men had come to set up the pulpit.; 
 and the cur6, in an ecstasy before it, said to me in a 
 low tone, 
 
 " Look, petite Reine, look! Is it not a happy con- 
 trivance? At last we have a pulpit! It has not a very
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 73 
 
 solid look, but it is firm enough. And now the dream 
 of my life is realized! One must never despair of any- 
 thing, ma petite, never ! " 
 
 I looked at it a little dismayed, because I could not 
 conceal from myself that my fancy had always pictured 
 a pulpit as something grand, monumental. The one 
 before my eyes was a sort of box of white wood placed 
 on iron supports, and raised so little that in case of 
 necessity one could have entered it without steps. But 
 a pulpit without steps, such a thing was never seen; 
 so to save its reputation, they had managed to place 
 two, each six inches high. 
 
 "See, Reine," said the cure, "what a good effect it 
 produces. When I have a little money, I will have it 
 given a coat of paint, or rather I will paint it myself; 
 that will amuse me, and besides it will be cheaper. It 
 really ought to be a little higher, but one must not be 
 too ambitious." 
 
 And the poor, excellent man walked around the 
 pulpit with an admiring air. Had the panels been 
 painted by Raphael or carved by Michael Angelo, he 
 could not have been more happy. 
 
 He did not consider that the reality, as, alas ! always, 
 did not in the least resemble his dream ; he made 
 no comparisons, and enjoyed his happiness without 
 reservation. 
 
 "It was I who designed it, my dear child; and it 
 was really a very clever idea. Nevertheless, there is
 
 74 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 another side to the picture, and I must acknowledge 
 that I am a little in debt; the price asked me is a 
 little higher than I had expected; but it seems that 
 that is always the case when one builds. I counted 
 on buying a great-coat this winter ; eh, well ! I must 
 go without it, that 's all ! " 
 
 Oh, yes, his joy is one of my sweetest memories 
 of those days. I have never seen a man so happy, and 
 one who so brightened a common pleasure by the re- 
 flection of his own kindly disposition, and his almost 
 childish interest. 
 
 "It certainly has all the appearance of a pulpit," he 
 said, laughing and rubbing his hands.. 
 
 I had truly some doubts on this point, but I con- 
 cealed them, and was as enthusiastic as I could be 
 over this extraordinary object, which, on account of 
 the irregular form of the church, was placed in a 
 recess, so that when the cure preached, three fourths 
 of the congregation saw only an arm and a bit of 
 white hair which moved eloquently in the different 
 stages of the discourse. 
 
 The cure* was so pleased to say to himself, " I will 
 enter the pulpit," that we had to resign ourselves to 
 having a sermon every Sunday. 
 
 Hardly had he opened his mouth than the women 
 made themselves comfortable for a little nap; than 
 Perrine profited by the general drowsiness to ogle the 
 pew next ours ; and than Reine de Lavalle set herself
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 75 
 
 to meditate on the vicissitudes of a life represented 
 by an aunt and the vexation of sermons. 
 
 I know not why the cure loved to discourse on 
 human passions, but one day when he allowed him- 
 self to be carried away in the heat of improvisation, I 
 asked him at dinner questions so indiscreet and em- 
 barrassing that he made a firm resolve never again to 
 touch on certain subjects before me. He contented 
 himself thereafter with speaking of idleness, drunken- 
 ness, anger, and other vices which excited neither my 
 curiosity nor my loquacity. 
 
 For an hour he would lay bare to our eyes the great 
 iniquity in which we were sunk; then, when our 
 moral state had become truly and entirely lament- 
 able, with a radiant air he would descend with us 
 into hell within an inch of the punishments which 
 our sin-ravaged souls deserved; after which, passing 
 by a bold flight of rhetoric to ideas less horrible, he 
 would emerge little by little from the infernal re- 
 gions, remain a few moments on the earth, and finally 
 leave us happy in heaven, and would descend from 
 his pulpit with the triumphant step of a conqueror 
 who has cut some Gordian knot. 
 
 The congregation would wake up with a start, 
 except Suzon, who was too happy to hear evil of 
 humanity to sleep, and who drank it all in while 
 the cure whipped his flock with his flowers of 
 rhetoric.
 
 76 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 It was, then, a Sunday. The heat was overpower- 
 ing; and as we returned home, Suzon said to us, 
 
 "There will be a storm before the day is over." 
 
 Her prediction pleased me; a storm was a happy 
 break in my monotonous life; and notwithstanding 
 my cowardice, I loved the thunder and lightning, 
 although they made me tremble in every limb when 
 the peals came too close together. 
 
 During the early part of the afternoon I wandered, 
 like a soul in pain, in the garden and the little wood. 
 I was bored to death, and said to myself dismally that 
 no adventure would ever happen to me, and that I was 
 fated to live always with my aunt. 
 
 Toward four o'clock, returning to the house, I went 
 up to the second-story hall ; and, with my face glued 
 to the pane of a large window, I amused myself 
 by watching the clouds which piled themselves up 
 over Buisson, and brought us the storm predicted 
 by Suzon. 
 
 I asked myself whence they came, what they had 
 seen on their way, what they could tell me, me who 
 knew nothing of life and of the world, and who longed 
 to see and to know. They were formed behind that 
 horizon which I had never passed, and which hid from 
 me mysteries, splendours, at least, I hoped so, - 
 joys, and pleasures on which I meditated inwardly. 
 
 I was diverted from my reflections by noticing that 
 Perrine, hidden away in a snug corner, was being em-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 77 
 
 braced by a big rustic, who had put his arm around 
 her waist. 
 
 I opened the window quickly, and cried, clapping 
 my hands, 
 
 "Very good, Perrine; I see you, Mademoiselle!" 
 
 Perrine, in a fright, seized her sabots and fled for 
 refuge to the stable. The big rustic pulled off his 
 hat, and looked at me with a silly smile that stretched 
 his mouth from ear to ear. 
 
 I was laughing with all my might, when a light car- 
 riage, which I had not heard approach, entered the 
 courtyard. A man leaped to the ground, said some 
 words to the servant who was with him, and looked 
 about to find some one to speak to. 
 
 But Perrine, whose white cap I saw peeping over 
 the barred window of the stable, did not budge, and 
 her lover had thrown himself flat on his stomach be- 
 hind a heap of straw. As to myself, stupefied before 
 this apparition, I had drawn one of the blinds of 
 the window, and was watching without making a 
 movement. 
 
 The unknown cleared in two strides the dilap- 
 idated flight of steps, and looked for a bell that never 
 existed; seeing which, and patience not being his 
 dominant quality, he rapped loudly with his fist upon 
 the door. 
 
 My aunt and Suzon rushed together to open it, and 
 I certify that from that moment I had the most
 
 78 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 favourable opinion of his courage, for he did not show 
 the slightest fear. He bowed lightly, and I made out 
 from his gestures that the threatening skies having 
 alarmed him, he was asking shelter at Buisson. 
 
 In fact, the storm broke with great violence at that 
 very moment; there was just time to put the horse 
 and carriage under shelter. 
 
 Solitude is said to create timidity, but in certain 
 cases it produces just the contrary effect. Having 
 come in contact with no one, and having no one to 
 compare myself with, I had the greatest self-confi- 
 dence, and I was absolutely ignorant of that strange 
 feeling which annihilates the most brilliant faculties, 
 and makes the most clever men stupid. 
 
 Nevertheless, in the face of this adventure, which 
 seemed as if evoked by my thoughts, my heart beat 
 wildly, and I hesitated so long to enter the salon that 
 I was still at the door when the cure arrived, all drip- 
 ping, but in great good-humour. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure," I cried, rushing toward him, 
 "there is a man in the salon!" 
 
 "Very well, Reine; a farmer, no doubt? " 
 
 " Not at all, Monsieur le Cure" ; it is a real man! " 
 
 " How a real man ? " 
 
 " I mean to say that it is neither a cure nor a peas- 
 ant, but a young man, well dressed. Let us go in, 
 quick." 
 
 We entered, and I almost uttered a cry of surprise
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 79 
 
 when I noticed that my aunt wore a really gracious 
 expression, and that she was smiling agreeably at the 
 unknown, who, seated opposite her, seemed as much 
 at his ease as if he were at home. 
 
 For that matter, his appearance alone would have 
 been enough to brighten the gloomiest disposition. 
 He was tall, of good weight, with a face cheerful, 
 fresh, and open. His blond hair was cut short, he 
 had a mustache pointed at the ends, a well-shaped 
 mouth, and white teeth, which a frank and natural 
 laugh let one often see. All his person breathed 
 lightheartedness and the joy of living. 
 
 He rose on seeing us enter, and waited a moment 
 for my aunt to present him. But that ceremony 
 was as little known to her as to the inhabitants 
 of Greenland, and he presented himself as Paul 
 de Conprat. 
 
 " De Conprat ! " cried the cur6 ; " are you the son of 
 that excellent Commandant de Conprat whom I used 
 to know? " 
 
 " My father is commandant, it is true, Monsieur le 
 Cure. You have known him ? " 
 
 " He did me a kindness many years ago ! An admi- 
 rable, an excellent man ! " 
 
 "I know that every one loves my father," answered 
 Monsieur de Conprat, his face brighter than ever. 
 " It is always a fresh pleasure to me to have evi- 
 dence of it."
 
 8o My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "But," resumed the cure, "are you not a relative 
 of Monsieur de Pavol?" 
 
 ''Certainly, a third cousin." 
 
 "Here is his niece," said the cure, presenting me. 
 
 Notwithstanding my inexperience, I saw very 
 clearly that Monsieur de Conprat's look expressed a 
 certain admiration. 
 
 " I am enchanted to make the acquaintance of so 
 charming a cousin," he said to me in a tone of con- 
 viction, holding out his hand. 
 
 The compliment gave me a pleasant little thrill, 
 and I placed my hand in his without the least 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "Not precisely cousins," said the cure, with a jubi- 
 lant air; "Monsieur de Pavol is only Reine's uncle by 
 marriage; his wife was a Mademoiselle de Lavalle. " 
 
 " It makes no difference," cried Monsieur de Conprat ; 
 " I am not going to renounce our relationship. Be- 
 sides, if you look carefully, you will find marriages 
 between my family and that of de Lavalle." 
 
 We fell to talking like three good comrades, and it 
 seemed to me as if we had always seen and known one 
 another, and been friends. I had that curious feeling 
 as if what was taking place before one's eyes had 
 already happened at some distant time, a time so 
 distant that one preserved only a vague and half-effaced 
 memory of it. 
 
 But when I ran over in my mind all the heroes of
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 81 
 
 romance that I knew, I could not find a single one as 
 plump as my own. He was stout, there was not the 
 shadow of doubt about that, but so good, so light- 
 hearted, so witty, that this physical defect became 
 instantly in my eyes a transcendent virtue. Soon 
 even my imaginary heroes seemed totally shorn of 
 charm. Notwithstanding their figures, which were 
 elegant and always slight, they were blotted out, 
 totally blotted out, by this good, plump fellow, jolly 
 and jocund, whom I mentally endowed with a host of 
 accomplishments. 
 
 Meanwhile, although the storm had diminished in 
 violence, the rain had not ceased; and the hour for 
 dinner approaching, my aunt invited Paul de Conprat 
 to share it with us. He declared at once that he was 
 as hungry as a cannibal, and accepted with an alacrity 
 which charmed me. 
 
 I slipped out for an instant to face Suzon's bad 
 temper. 
 
 "Suzon," I said, entering the kitchen excitedly, 
 " Monsieur de Conprat is going to dine with us. Have 
 we a large fowl, milk, strawberries, and cherries?" 
 
 "//"// Seigneur! here 's a fuss! " grumbled Suzon. 
 " There is what there is ! there now ! " 
 
 " Really and truly, Suzon ! but answer me now. A 
 capon perhaps will not be enough." 
 
 "It is not a capon, Mademoiselle, it is a turkey; 
 just take a look." 
 
 6
 
 82 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 And Suzon quickly, with an air of pride, opened the 
 oven and let me admire the bird, which, well fattened 
 by her cares and those of Perrine, must have weighed 
 at least twelve pounds. The browning, skin puffed 
 up here and there, showing the delicacy and tender- 
 ness of the meat which it covered, and offering to my 
 delighted eyes a most joyful sight. 
 
 " Bravo ! " I said. " But the curds, Suzon, are they 
 a success? Is there a good deal of them? And the 
 salad, look carefully to the dressing!" 
 
 " I am accustomed to succeed in what I undertake, 
 Mademoiselle. Besides, this gentleman is neither 
 a prince nor an emperor, I suppose. He is a man like 
 any other, and will put up with what is given him." 
 
 "A man like any other, Suzon!" I said with indig- 
 nation. " You have not seen him, then ? " 
 
 " Ma foi! yes, Mademoiselle, I have seen and have 
 heard him, I can truly say that. Is it allowable for 
 a Christian man to beat with all his might on the door 
 of an honest house as he did ? After that, fall in love 
 with him if you wish ! " 
 
 I opened my mouth to answer sharply, but stopped 
 short, prudently reflecting that, to show her resent- 
 ment and provoke me, Suzon was quite capable of 
 letting the turkey burn. 
 
 A few moments later we passed into the dining- 
 room, and I could not refrain from casting a melan- 
 choly glance at the hangings, which, dirty and worn,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure, 83 
 
 fell in rags. To make matters worse, Suzon had a 
 most singular fashion of laying the cloth. Three 
 salt-cellars ranged themselves in the middle of the 
 table after the fashion of an epergne. The silver 
 was thrown helter-skelter; the bottles crowded one 
 another; while the one and only carafe was placed so 
 that each guest had to nearly dislocate himself to 
 grasp it, the table being three times too large. For 
 the first time in my life, I had an intuition that all the 
 laws of symmetry were violated by Suzon 's fantastic 
 taste. But Monsieur de Conprat had one of those 
 happy dispositions that look at everything on the 
 bright side. And then he had the faculty of identify- 
 ing himself with any place in which he found himself. 
 
 He looked at the table cheerfully, and swallowed his 
 soup, talking without stopping, complimented Suzon, 
 and uttered genuine expressions of delight at the sight 
 of the turkey. 
 
 "It must be confessed, Monsieur le Cure," said he, 
 "that life is a happy invention, and that Heraclitus 
 was endowed with a strong dose of stupidity." 
 
 "Do not speak ill of philosophers," answered the 
 cure; "they have their good points." 
 
 "You are too kind, Monsieur le Cure. For my 
 part, if I were the government I would turn out the 
 lunatics and put the philosophers in their place, taking 
 care not to separate them, so that they might be able 
 the better to destroy one another."
 
 84 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "What is it, this Heraclitus? " said my aunt. 
 
 "An idiot, Madame, who spent his time in whin- 
 ing. It was ridiculous, man Dieu! and to have suc- 
 ceeded in imposing himself on posterity!" 
 
 "Perhaps," insinuated I, "he had lived with many 
 aunts, and that had soured his disposition." 
 
 Monsieur de Conprat looked at me in astonishment, 
 and broke into a loud laugh. The cure stared ; but my 
 aunt, busy with the turkey which she was carving skil- 
 fully, I must admit, had not heard. 
 
 "History is silent on this point, my cousin." 
 
 "In any case," I resumed, "beware of attacking the 
 men of antiquity ; Monsieur le Cur6 will tear out your 
 eyes." 
 
 "Ah, the villains! how they plagued me! I have 
 kept only one souvenir of them, that of the imposi- 
 tions they caused me!" 
 
 "Permit me," said the cure, making an effort to 
 bring his friends to the surface, and about to swamp 
 himself completely in my opinion, "permit me; you 
 cannot deny certain noble virtues, certain heroic acts, 
 which " 
 
 "Delusions, delusions!" interrupted Paul de Con- 
 prat. " They were insupportable villains ; and because 
 they are dead they are clothed with incredible virtues 
 to humiliate us poor fellows who are living, and who 
 are worth more than they. Dieu ! what an excellent 
 turkey ! "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 85 
 
 And while talking without stopping, he ate with 
 an animation and appetite without equal. 
 
 The slices heaped on his plate disappeared with a 
 rapidity so remarkable that there was a moment when 
 my aunt, the cure, and I remained, fork in air, watch- 
 ing him in silent astonishment. 
 
 "I gave you fair warning," he said, laughing, "that 
 I was as hungry as a cannibal, a hunger that comes 
 to me, by the way, three hundred and sixty-five times 
 a year." 
 
 " What a sum you must pay out for your table ! " 
 cried my aunt, whose peculiarity it was to seize on 
 the commercial side of things, and to say what she 
 ought not to say. 
 
 " Twenty-three thousand three hundred and seventy- 
 seven francs, Madame," answered Monsieur de Conprat, 
 in all seriousness. 
 
 "It is not possible," stammered my aunt, stupefied. 
 
 "You seem very happy, Monsieur," said the cur6, 
 rubbing his hands. 
 
 "Am I happy, Monsieur le Cure? I believe so, 
 thoroughly. And look, frankly now, is it very natu- 
 ral to be unhappy?" 
 
 "Sometimes," answered the cure", smiling. 
 
 " Ah, bah ! unhappy persons are generally so through 
 their own fault, because they take life at cross purposes. 
 You see, unhappiness does not exist ; it is human stu- 
 pidity which exists."
 
 86 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "But that is already an unhappy circumstance," 
 said the cure. 
 
 "Sufficiently negative in itself, Monsieur le Cur; 
 and because my neighbour is a fool, it does not follow 
 that I should imitate him." 
 
 "You love a paradox, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Not at all ; but I am provoked when I see so many 
 people make their lives gloomy through an unhealthy 
 imagination. I suppose they do not eat enough, that 
 they live on larks or a boiled egg, and derange the 
 brain at the same time as the stomach. I adore life; 
 I think that every one should find it delightful, and 
 that it has but one fault, it must end, and that so 
 quickly." 
 
 The turkey, the salad, the curds, all were devoured ; 
 and my aunt looked with a face which was no longer 
 gracious at the skeleton of the bird on which she had 
 planned to feast for several days. We were about to 
 leave the table, when Suzon half opened the door, and 
 poking her head through, said aggressively, 
 
 " I have made some coffee ; shall I bring it ? " 
 
 7 O 
 
 " Who gave you permission - " began my aunt. 
 
 "Yes, yes," I said, interrupting quickly; "bring it 
 at once." 
 
 I could have embraced her for this happy thought, 
 but my aunt did not share my feelings. She disap- 
 peared in order to go and quarrel with Suzon, and we 
 did not see her again, except in the salon.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 87 
 
 "You have an excellent cook, Cousin," said Paul de 
 Conprat, sipping his coffee. 
 
 " Yes, but such a scold ! " 
 
 "That is a detail simply." 
 
 "And my aunt, what do you think of her? " I asked 
 in a confidential tone. 
 
 "Well rather majestic," answered Monsieur de 
 Conprat, a little embarrassed. 
 
 " Ah, majestic ! you would like to say disagreeable ? " 
 
 "Reine! " murmured the cure. 
 
 "Oh, well, let us talk of something else, Monsieur 
 le Cure; but I should really like to have my cousin's 
 happy disposition, and find the go.od side of my 
 aunt. " 
 
 " Have a little practical philosophy, charming 
 cousin; it supplies a solid basis for happiness, and 
 is the only philosophy which seems to me to have 
 any common-sense." 
 
 "What a pity that you could not have been my 
 aunt ; how we should have loved each other ! " 
 
 "I can answer for that," he cried, laughing; "and 
 we should have no need of philosophy to arrive at that 
 result. But if it is the same to you, I would prefer 
 not to change my sex, and to be your uncle." 
 
 "I should ask nothing better, because I am not like 
 Francis I. ; for my part, I have a pronounced antipathy 
 to women." 
 
 "Truly," he replied, laughing with all his might, 
 "you know the tastes of Francis I. ?"
 
 88 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 The cure made a gesture of despair, to which 
 Monsieur de Conprat returned an expressive wink which 
 seemed to say, "Don't be disturbed; I understand." 
 
 This pantomime irritated me, and I made a desper- 
 ate attempt to grasp its hidden meaning. 
 
 "Speaking of uncles," I said, "you know Monsieur 
 de Pavol very well ? " 
 
 "Yes, very; my estate is within a league of his." 
 
 "And his daughter, what is she like?" 
 
 " I played with her often when she was a child, but 
 for four years I have lost sight of her. She is said 
 to be very beautiful." 
 
 " How much I should like to be at Pavol ! " I sighed; 
 "we should see each other often." 
 
 "Who knows, little cousin? perhaps I should no 
 longer please you if you knew me better. Neverthe- 
 less, I can truly say that I am a good fellow; and 
 except that I have a passion for turkey, and love 
 pretty women to the point of folly, I do not know 
 that I have any small vices." 
 
 " To love pretty women is certainly no fault. For 
 my part, I detest ugly people, my aunt, for ex- 
 ample. But to compare a turkey to a pretty woman 
 is scarcely flattering to the latter, Cousin." 
 
 "It is true; I admit that my choice of words was 
 unhappy." 
 
 "I pardon you," I said vivaciously. "Now, do you 
 think me pretty ? "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 89 
 
 For two hours at least, I had been saying over and 
 over in my inmost soul that I must not let the oppor- 
 tunity escape of enlightening myself by a frank and 
 competent opinion on a subject of thrilling interest 
 to me. Since the beginning of dinner I had waited 
 impatiently for the time to ask my question. Not 
 that I had any doubts as to the answer; but to hear 
 absolutely directly, and face to face, that one is 
 pretty, from some one other than a cure, is truly 
 delicious. 
 
 " Pretty, my cousin ! you are simply lovely ! I have 
 never seen more beautiful eyes nor a prettier mouth." 
 
 " How delightful ! and how agreeable men are, what- 
 ever my aunt may say ! " 
 
 "Does not your aunt like men? She has passed the 
 age of coquetry, it is true." 
 
 "Coquetry! I have never heard of it. Do you 
 think one should be a coquette ? " 
 
 " Without doubt, Cousin ; in my eyes, it is a great 
 accomplishment. " 
 
 "You have never told me this, Monsieur le Cure," 
 I cried. 
 
 During this conversation the unhappy cure had a 
 foretaste of the pains of purgatory. He mopped his 
 face, and had great difficulty in swallowing his coffee, 
 which seemed to him very bitter. 
 
 "Monsieur de Conprat is laughing at you," he said 
 to me.
 
 90 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Are you really, Cousin? " 
 
 "Not at all," answered Paul de Conprat, who had 
 the appearance of being highly amused. "To my 
 mind, a woman who is not a coquette is not a 
 woman. " 
 
 "Very good; I will try to become one, then." 
 
 " Let us go into the salon, Mademoiselle de Lavalle, " 
 said the cur, rising. 
 
 "Ah," thought I, "now the cure is provoked; yet I 
 have said nothing amiss. " 
 
 The rain had stopped, the clouds dispersed; and I 
 proposed to Paul de Conprat to take a walk in the 
 garden. Off we went, without waiting permission, 
 followed by the cur6, whose face was almost gloomy, 
 and who thought that his ewe lamb was on the road 
 to perdition. 
 
 We ran like two children through the wet grass; 
 we soaked our feet and ankles, shouting with laugh- 
 ter. We talked, we chattered, I especially telling the 
 events of my life, my little disappointments, my aspi- 
 rations and antipathies. 
 
 Oh, that delightful, charming, delicious evening! 
 
 Monsieur de Conprat climbed into a cherry-tree, and 
 shaking it violently, let fall on me all the rain-drops 
 that it held. With his mouth full of cherries, he 
 cried out from the top of the tree that the rain-drops 
 shone in my beautiful hair like an ideal crown, and 
 that he had never seen anything so beautiful.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 93 
 
 "And Suzon," I said to myself, "pretended that he 
 was a man like any other. Is it possible one can be 
 such a fool ? " 
 
 We returned to the salon, where a great fire was 
 made for us to dry ourselves. Seated side by side, 
 Paul de Conprat and I, we talked on together in a 
 subdued tone. 
 
 My aunt, stunned by my audacity, my freedom from 
 restraint, and the delight which shone on my face, 
 said not a word. The cure, charmed at my happiness, 
 was nevertheless not so actively preoccupied as to 
 forget to make a third with us. Oh, what a delight- 
 ful evening! 
 
 At last Monsieur de Conprat rose to go, and we 
 accompanied him into the courtyard. 
 
 He said good-by warmly to the cure, and thanked 
 my aunt; then, coming to me, he took my hand and 
 said in a low tone, 
 
 "I should have liked this evening never to end, 
 Cousin." 
 
 "And I too! but you will come again, will you 
 not?" 
 
 "Certainly, and very soon, I hope." 
 
 He lifted my hand to his lips; and it must truly be 
 the case that human nature has, at the bottom, a great 
 depth of perversity, for this homage gave me a pleas- 
 ure so new, keen, and perfect that I had the indecor- 
 ous idea mon Dien ! must I confess it ? yes, I had
 
 94 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 the idea, which I did not put into execution, of 
 throwing myself on his neck and embracing him on 
 both cheeks, notwithstanding my aunt, and notwith- 
 standing the cure, who watched us like some new 
 kind of dragon, an excellent dragon, chubby and 
 genial.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1\ /[" Y mind was for some days after the departure of 
 -*-*- Monsieur de Conprat in a beatific state which 
 it would be difficult for me to describe. I had mani- 
 fold sensations which showed themselves outwardly 
 in gambols and pirouettes, for this latter exercise 
 had for a long time been my fashion of expressing a 
 multitude of feelings. 
 
 After pirouetting wildly, I would throw myself on 
 the grass, and looking at the sky would day-dream 
 over many things, while really not thinking at all. 
 That delightful mental state, when the mind is in a 
 kind of drowsiness, a dreamy tranquillity which re- 
 sembles sleep, although it may be very wakeful, has 
 furnished me the sweetest food for recollection.
 
 g6 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 From this time, too, dates my passionate love for 
 the sky, which since then has always seemed to sym- 
 pathize with my thoughts, were they depressed or 
 cheerful, serious or trifling. 
 
 When I had allowed my imagination to lose itself 
 in shady byways, so obscure that it had to grope its way, 
 I would bring it back to the light and let it survey 
 Monsieur de Conprat. I laughed at the remembrance 
 of his frank face, his pleasant smile, and his white 
 teeth. I loved the kiss he gave my hand, and I ex- 
 perienced a veritable glee in thinking that, had I car- 
 ried out my idea, I should have kissed him on both 
 cheeks. I experienced these delightful sensations a 
 long while, until a time came when I began to ask my- 
 self why my mind passed through these divers phases. 
 
 But when I reached this delicate question I was all 
 in the dark, and my imagination had to deal with such 
 vaporous fancies that, in despair of the task, I aban- 
 doned the attempt, in order to think again of a mouth 
 which pleased me, of eyes which had smiled at me, 
 and of an expression which I had firmly decided never 
 to forget. 
 
 But those fantastic personages, my thoughts, did 
 not leave me long in peace, and little by little, I fell 
 into their power. Thus I was all uncertainty, until 
 one day, bethinking me to corroborate certain im- 
 pressions by those of my chosen heroines, I was en- 
 lightened on a leading point.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 97 
 
 I discovered that I was in love, and that love was 
 the most delightful thing in the world. The dis- 
 covery filled me with the keenest joy. In the first 
 place, because my life was beautified by a charm 
 which, though undefined, was none the less real ; next, 
 because if I loved I was certainly loved in return. 
 I, in fact, loved Monsieur de Conprat because he had 
 seemed to me charming, consequently the sight of 
 me ought to produce the same ravages in his heart, 
 because he thought me ravishing. My logic, coupled 
 with complete inexperience, went no further, and was 
 amply sufficient to confirm my reasoning and to make 
 me happy. 
 
 One discovery led to another, and I came to think 
 that charity could have played only a very insignifi- 
 cant r61e in the love which Francis I. felt for ladies 
 in general, and Anne de Pisseleu in particular; that 
 love was not in the least like affection, for I adored 
 my cure", and had not the least desire to embrace him, 
 while I should not have had to be invited to throw 
 myself on Paul de Conprat's neck; that it was per- 
 fectly ridiculous to assume a mysterious and evasive 
 tone in speaking of so natural a thing, in which evi- 
 dently there was not the shadow of harm. 
 
 But a cure, I thought, must necessarily have errone- 
 ous and extraordinary views of love, because, as he is 
 not permitted to marry, he cannot fall in love. All 
 the same, Francis I. was married and I do not 
 
 7
 
 98 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 understand anything of all this, and must get some 
 light. 
 
 There was such a chaos in my thoughts that not- 
 withstanding my scornful prejudices on the subject 
 of the curb's knowledge, I resolved to enter on this 
 delicate subject with him. 
 
 The poor cure saw clearly that I was greatly troubled 
 in mind, but he had too much finesse and good sense 
 to seem to attach importance to impressions which 
 would have acquired undue importance had he sought 
 my confidence. He tried to distract me by every 
 means in his reach ; and taking up the habit of com- 
 ing to Buisson every day, he prolonged the lessons 
 indefinitely. 
 
 We were seated at our window. My aunt, who had 
 been ailing for some time, had retired to her room; 
 my thoughts were away in the moon, and the cure was 
 exerting himself to explain my problems to me. 
 
 " See, now, what you have done, Reine ! you have 
 worked with kilograms instead of working with 
 grams. And here, being given | multiplied by " 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure," I said, "guess what is the 
 most fascinating thing in the world ! " 
 
 "What is 'it, then, Reine?" 
 
 " Love, Monsieur le Cure. " 
 
 " What are you talking about, ma petite ? " cried the 
 cure, uneasily. 
 
 "Oh, of something that I know very well," I an-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 99 
 
 swered, nodding my head sagely; "I even ask myself 
 why you have never said a word to me about it, since 
 one sees it every day." 
 
 "This comes from reading romances, Mademoiselle; 
 you take seriously what is only imagination." 
 
 " How wrong it is to say what you do not think, 
 Monsieur le Cure! You know perfectly well that 
 people fall in love in real life, and that it is per- 
 fectly charming." 
 
 "It is a subject that does not concern young girls, 
 Reine; you ought not to speak of it." 
 
 " How can it not concern young girls, when it is 
 they who love and are loved ? " 
 
 "How unfortunate I am," cried the cure, "to have 
 to deal with such a head ! " 
 
 "Don't say anything bad about my head, my dear 
 cure; as for me, I am very fond of it, especially since 
 Monsieur de Conprat thought it so pretty." 
 
 "Monsieur de Conprat was amusing himself with 
 you, Reine. Make up your mind that he took you for 
 a little girl of no account." 
 
 "Not at all," replied I, offended, "for he kissed my 
 hand. And do you know the idea that came to me at 
 that moment ? " 
 
 "Let us hear it," answered the cur6, who was on 
 thorns. 
 
 "Well, then, Monsieur le Cure\ I was on the point 
 of throwing myself on his neck."
 
 ioo My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "What folly! One does not throw one's self on 
 anyone's neck unless one knows them intimately." 
 
 " Oh, yes, but he - And yet, had he been a 
 woman, the idea would never have occurred to me." 
 
 "Why not, Reine? You talk nonsense. " 
 
 "Oh, because " 
 
 A silence followed this profound reply, and I stealth- 
 ily examined the cur6, who moved uneasily in his seat 
 and took snuff to conceal his embarrassment. 
 
 "My good cure," I said in an insinuating tone, "if 
 you were very good-natured 
 
 "What then, Reine?" 
 
 "Well, I should like to ask you a few little ques- 
 tions about some subjects which are running through 
 my head. " 
 
 The cur6 settled himself in his chair, like a man 
 who suddenly makes a grand resolve. 
 
 "Very well, Reine; I am listening. It is much 
 better to speak openly of what is occupying your 
 thoughts than to puzzle your brain and not come to 
 the point." 
 
 " I am not puzzling at all, Monsieur le Cure, and I 
 am not wandering from the point ; only I have thought 
 a great deal of love because " 
 
 "Because? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing. But to begin, tell me why it is that 
 if you should kiss my hand I should think it ridicu- 
 lous and not agreeable, although I love you with all
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 101 
 
 my heart, while it is exactly the contrary when 
 Monsieur de Conprat is in question." 
 
 "What? what? What is it you say, Reine? " 
 
 " I say that I found it very delightful to have 
 Monsieur de Conprat kiss my hand, while if you 
 
 "But, ma petite, your question is absurd, and the 
 feeling of which you speak means nothing, and is not 
 worth considering." 
 
 "Ah, that is not my opinion. I have thought a 
 good deal, and this is what I have discovered : it is 
 that if Monsieur de Conprat's action seemed delight- 
 ful to me, it is because he is young, and might 
 marry me, while you are old, and, as a cure, can 
 never marry." 
 
 "Yes, yes," the cure answered mechanically. 
 
 "For one always loves one's husband dearly; is it 
 not so ? " 
 
 " No doubt ! No doubt ! " 
 
 " Now, Monsieur le Cure, tell me whether it is true 
 that men can love many women." 
 
 "I know nothing about it," said the cure, becoming 
 irritated. 
 
 " But you certainly ought to know. Then can a mar- 
 ried man love another woman than his wife, as Francis 
 I. loved Anne de Pisseleu when he was married ? " 
 
 "Francis I. was a mauvais snjet," cried the exas- 
 perated cure ; " and Buckingham, whom you admire so 
 much, was another!"
 
 IO2 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " Man Dieu!" I exclaimed, "everyone has his pecu- 
 liarities, and I do not see why one should consider it 
 a crime to love several women. Queen Claude and 
 the Duchess of Buckingham were perhaps like my 
 aunt. Besides, I am coming to find out that the 
 feelings do not keep themselves under control, and 
 they can no more refuse to love than I 
 
 "What? Reine!" 
 
 "Nothing, Monsieur le Cure; but I am afraid that I 
 have a weakness for mauvais sujets, for I find Bucking- 
 ham especially charming." 
 
 " Listen, ma petite ; I have tried to make you under- 
 stand some things since you read Walter Scott, and 
 you appear to have understood absolutely nothing." 
 
 "Listen to me, my dear cure; your explanations 
 are not very lucid, and there is so much that is not 
 clear to my mind. All this is very strange," I con- 
 tinued musingly. "At least, tell me, Monsieur le 
 Cur6, why love arouses your indignation?" 
 
 "Reine," said the cur6, out of patience, "this is 
 enough. You have such a way of putting your ques- 
 tions that it is impossible to answer you. I say to 
 you in all seriousness that there are subjects of 
 which you should not speak, and which you cannot 
 understand, because you are too young." 
 
 The cur put his hat under his arm and departed. 
 I ran to the doorstep and cried, 
 
 "You may say what you will, my dear cure\ but I
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 103 
 
 know perfectly well what love is; it is the most de- 
 lightful thing in the world! Vive r amour!" 
 
 The cure let two days go by without coming to 
 Buisson; therefore, full of contrition at having been 
 so teasing, on the third day I took my way to the 
 presbytere to beg his pardon. I found him in his 
 kitchen before a frugal breakfast, which he was eat- 
 ing with equal animation and appetite. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure," I said in a fairly humble tone, 
 "are you angry? " 
 
 "A little, petite Reine; you will never listen to 
 me." 
 
 " I promise not to speak of love again, Monsieur le 
 Cure." 
 
 " Try, above all, Reine, not to think of things which 
 you do not understand." 
 
 " Oh, that I do not understand ! " I cried, taking 
 fire immediately; "I understand perfectly, and in 
 spite of all the cures on the earth, I will maintain 
 that " 
 
 "Come," interrupted the discouraged cure; "here 
 you are in fault already ! " 
 
 "It is true, my dear cure; but I assure you that a 
 cure understands nothing at all of these things." 
 
 "And Reine de Lavalle no more. I will go and 
 give you your lesson to-day, ma petite." 
 
 And in this fashion ended the most serious dispute 
 I ever had with my cure.
 
 104 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Nevertheless, as the days went by and Paul de Con- 
 prat did not return, my nervous system began to give 
 way and showed an irritability which boded ill. A 
 month after my memorable adventure, I had lost my 
 hopes and my tranquillity; and, my ennui contribut- 
 ing, I fell into a state of gloomy depression. 
 
 It was then that the cure" quarrelled with my aunt, 
 who turned him out of the house. 
 
 Seated under the window of the salon, I heard the 
 following conversation: 
 
 "Madame," said the cure, "I have come to speak 
 to you about Reine. " 
 
 "Why about her?" 
 
 "The child is tired and ill, Madame. Monsieur 
 de Conprat's visit opened to her intelligence hori- 
 zons upon which light had already been thrown by 
 some romances she had read. She must have some 
 diversion." 
 
 "Diversion! Where would you like me to take her? 
 I am not able to move. I am ill ! " 
 
 " For that reason I do not count on you to furnish 
 her diversion, Madame. Monsieur de Pavol must be 
 written to, and asked to take her to his house for 
 some time." 
 
 "Monsieur de Pavol written to! Certainly not! 
 The child would never want to come back." 
 
 " That is possible ; but it is a secondary considera- 
 tion, which we can take up later. Inasmuch as she
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 105 
 
 is destined to live some day or other in the world, it 
 seems to me necessary that she should change her 
 mode of life, and see many things of which she has 
 no conception." 
 
 " I will not hear of it, Monsieur le Cure. Reine 
 shall not leave here ! " 
 
 "But, Madame," replied the cure, growing warm, 
 " I say again that the matter does not admit of delay. 
 Reine is depressed ; her brain is active and constantly 
 working. I am certain that she fancies herself in 
 love with Monsieur de Conprat. " 
 
 "It is all the same to me," said my aunt, who 
 was entirely incapable of understanding the cure's 
 reasons. 
 
 "It has been said that solitude is the Devil's advo- 
 cate, Madame; and it is perfectly true with youth. 
 Solitude is injurious to Reine; a little diversion 
 will make her forget what is really only a childish 
 impression." 
 
 "What ridiculous ideas the cure has!" I thought. 
 "To treat lightly such a serious thing, and to be- 
 lieve that some day I shall forget Monsieur de 
 Conprat ! " 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure," said my aunt, in her dryest 
 tone, "mind your own business. I will act accord- 
 ing to my judgment and not yours." 
 
 "Madame, I love the child with all my heart, and 
 will not hear of her being unhappy," answered the
 
 io6 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 cure", in a tone I did not recognize. " You have buried 
 her at Buisson ; you have never given her the slight- 
 est gratification; and I can say that, had it not been 
 for me, she would have grown up in ignorance and 
 stupidity, and would have been a wild, half-nourished 
 little plant. I repeat, Monsieur de Pavol must be 
 written to." 
 
 " This is too much ! " cried my aunt, furious. " Am I 
 not the mistress in my own home? Leave the house, 
 Monsieur le Cure, and don't put foot in it again." 
 
 "Very well, Madame; I know now what I must do, 
 and I see clearly to-day that if I have not acted 
 sooner, it is because I was blinded by the selfish 
 pleasure of seeing my little Reine constantly." 
 
 The cure found me in the road all in tears 
 
 "Is it possible, my good cure, turned out of the 
 house on my account ? What is going to become of 
 us if we cannot see each other any more?" 
 
 "You heard the discussion, my little child? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I was under the window. Ah, what a 
 woman ! what 
 
 "Come, come; be calm, Reine," said the cure", who 
 was all flushed and trembling. "This very night I 
 shall write to your uncle." 
 
 "Write soon, my dear cure; perhaps he will come 
 for me at once." 
 
 "Let us hope so," said the cure, with a smile kindly 
 but a little sad.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 107 
 
 But other duties prevented his writing that same 
 night to Monsieur de Pavol; and the next day my 
 aunt, who had been struggling for some weeks against 
 disease, fell dangerously ill. Five days later death 
 knocked at the door of Buisson, and changed the 
 aspect of my life.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 T TOOK refuge at the presbytere immediately after 
 the death of my aunt, who never once asked to 
 see me during her illness, and who was nursed de- 
 votedly by Suzon. 
 
 The cure" had written to Monsieur de Pavol to inform 
 him that Madame de Lavalle was ill ; but the progress 
 of the disease was so rapid that my uncle received the 
 despatch announcing its fatal result before he had 
 been able to answer the cure's letter. He telegraphed 
 at once that it would be impossible for him to be pres- 
 ent at the funeral service. 
 
 The next day we received a letter in which he said 
 that as he had not yet recovered from an attack of 
 gout, he should not come to Buisson. He begged the
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 109 
 
 cure to take me, a few days later, to C , when he 
 
 hoped to be well enough to come there to meet me. 
 
 My aunt was buried without pomp and without cere- 
 mony. She had not been loved, and departed for the 
 other world without a long train of mourners. 
 
 I returned from the interment, making many efforts 
 to feel a little sorry, but could not. Whatever may 
 have been the reproaches of my conscience, a feeling 
 of deliverance was predominant in my head and my 
 heart. Nevertheless, had I known the saying of a 
 celebrated man, I should certainly have appropriated 
 it, and I declare that I should have cried in a superb 
 outburst of misanthropy, 
 
 " I know not what goes on in the heart of a wretch ; 
 but I know that of an honest little girl, and what I see 
 there frightens me." 
 
 But the saying being entirely unknown to me, I 
 could not use it to appease the manes of my aunt. 
 
 My uncle had fixed on the loth of August as the 
 day for me to leave; it was now the 8th, and I was 
 passing the two days with the cur6, whose cheerful- 
 ness departed hourly at the thought of our separation. 
 
 Tuesday morning he prepared for me an excellent 
 breakfast, and we took our places face to face for the 
 last time, to try to force ourselves to eat. But each 
 mouthful choked me"; and I had all the trouble in the 
 world to keep back my tears. 
 
 The poor cure had passed the night without sleep.
 
 no My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 He was too full of grief for that; and, besides, not 
 being able to accompany me to C , he had writ- 
 ten my uncle a letter of seventeen pages, as I learned 
 later on, in which he enumerated my accomplish- 
 ments, great and small and medium. As to faults, 
 they were not mentioned. 
 
 "My dear little child," he said to me after a long 
 silence, "you will never forget your old cur6?" 
 
 "Never! Never!" I said earnestly. 
 
 "And you will not forget my counsels either. Dis- 
 trust your imagination, petite Reine. I may compare 
 it to a beautiful flame which lightens and vivifies the 
 mind when judiciously fed, but which, if given too 
 much nourishment, becomes a bonfire which spreads 
 to the house, and the conflagration leaves behind it 
 only ashes and dross." 
 
 "I will strive to manage the flame wisely, Mon- 
 sieur le Cur; but I confess that I am very fond of 
 bonfires." 
 
 " Yes ; but beware of a conflagration ! Don't let us 
 play with fire, Reine." 
 
 "Just a little bonfire, Monsieur le Cur6, that is 
 charming. And if one is afraid of a conflagration, 
 one can throw cold water on the grate." 
 
 "But where is the cold water to be found, ma 
 petite ? " 
 
 "Ah, I do not know yet, but some day perhaps I 
 shall find out."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 1 1 1 
 
 " God grant you may not, my dear little child ! Cold 
 water means disillusion and heartaches; and I shall 
 pray fervently every day that they may be removed 
 from your path." 
 
 Tears came to my eyes when I heard my curd speak 
 in this way, and I swallowed a great glass of water to 
 keep down my emotion. 
 
 "Before I leave you," I resumed, "I ought to tell 
 you that I believe I have a very strong taste for 
 coquetry. " 
 
 "It is the weak spot with all women, that I know," 
 said the cure, with his kindly smile, "but not a great 
 fault, Reine. As to the rest, mixing with the world 
 will teach you to govern your feelings, and, besides, 
 your uncle will be able to advise you." 
 
 " How charming the world will be, Monsieur le 
 Cure ! and I am sure to please, being so pretty - 
 
 "Without doubt, without doubt; but distrust exag- 
 gerated compliments, and be on your guard against 
 vanity." 
 
 " Bah ! it is so natural to love to please ; there is no 
 harm in that." 
 
 "Hum! That is a rather lax doctrine," answered 
 the cure, ruffling up his hair. "Eh, well, your argu- 
 ments are those of your age, and, Heaven be thanked, 
 you have not yet to say, as in Ecclesiastes, all is 
 vanity, and nothing but vanity." 
 
 "What an exaggerator that Ecclesiastes is! and
 
 U2 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 then he is so old. I fancy that his ideas must be 
 superannuated." 
 
 "Come, come; let us leave the subject! I am per- 
 fectly aware that the Holy Scriptures and the thoughts 
 of a poor country cure cannot be understood by a 
 pretty young girl, who appears to me to have a very 
 good opinion of her appearance." 
 
 He looked at me smiling, but his lips trembled, for 
 the time for departure was close at hand. 
 
 "Be careful not to be cold on the way, Reine." 
 
 " But, Monsieur le Cure, it is the middle of August. 
 It is stifling." 
 
 "It is true," answered the cure, who seemed a little 
 dazed. "Then do not wrap too warmly, for fear of 
 taking a chill." 
 
 We rose from the table, after vain attempts to 
 nibble some bits of bread and pate. 
 
 " I am so unhappy ! " I cried, bursting suddenly into 
 sobs. "I am so unhappy at leaving you, my dear 
 curd!" 
 
 "Do not cry, do not cry! it is perfectly absurd," 
 said the cure, not noticing that big tears were run- 
 ning down his own cheeks. 
 
 "Ah, my cure," I said, seized with sudden remorse, 
 "I have been such a plague." 
 
 "No, no; you have been the joy of my life, my only 
 happiness. " 
 
 "What will become of you without me, my poor 
 cure ? "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 113 
 
 The cure made no reply. He took some steps up 
 and down the room, blowing his nose loudly, and suc- 
 ceeded in conquering the emotion which was choking 
 him, and almost causing him to break into sobs. 
 
 The maringote was at the door. Perrine, in all her 
 
 finery, was to go with me as far as C and put me 
 
 in my uncle's arms. The farmer had been directed 
 to drive us, in place of Suzon, who, thoroughly to her 
 regret, remained provisionally in charge at Buisson. 
 I told Jean to drive on ; and the cure and I walked a 
 little way so as to be longer together. 
 
 "I will write you every day, Monsieur le Cure." 
 
 " I do not ask so much as that, my dear child ; write 
 me once a month, and then very intimately." 
 
 " I will write you everything, absolutely everything, 
 even my views on love. " 
 
 "We shall see about that," said the cure, with an in- 
 credulous smile. " The life which you will lead will be 
 so new to you, so full of amusements, that I do not 
 count very much on your keeping your promise exactly. " 
 
 Jean had stopped to wait for us, and I saw that 
 we must part. I grasped my cure's hands, crying 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Life has some very wretched moments, Monsieur 
 le Cure!" 
 
 "They will pass, they will pass," he answered in a 
 broken voice. " Good-by, my dear, good little child, 
 do not forget me, and mistrust mistrust 
 
 8
 
 1 14 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 But he could not finish the sentence, and helped 
 me hurriedly climb into the cart. 
 
 I took my aunt's old place, crushed on one side by 
 a trunk which had lost its lock, and on the other by 
 innumerable packages of the most outlandish shape, 
 made up by Perrine. 
 
 "Good-by, my cure; good-by, my old cureV' I 
 cried. 
 
 He waved me an affectionate adieu, and turned back 
 brusquely. Through my tears, I saw him stride away 
 and put his hat on his head, a proof absolute that 
 his mind was not only in the most violent agitation, 
 but really topsy-turvy. 
 
 After having sobbed for ten good minutes, I con- 
 cluded that it was time to follow the advice of Perrine, 
 which she kept repeating over and over, - 
 
 "You must be reasonable, Mamselle; you must be 
 reasonable." 
 
 I thrust my handkerchief into my pocket, and set 
 myself to thinking. 
 
 Truly, life is a very strange thing. Who would 
 have believed, a fortnight before, that my dreams 
 would have come true so promptly and that I should 
 soon see Monsieur de Conprat? This cheerful idea 
 chased the last clouds which darkened my spirits; 
 and I began to note that the sky was blue, life 
 sweet, and that aunts who go to heaven or purgatory 
 are gifted with superior intelligence.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 117 
 
 My second thought was of my uncle. I was much 
 concerned as to the impression I should make on him ; 
 and I was sure that the black dress and the curious 
 hat, which Suzon had stuck together, were perfectly 
 ridiculous. The unhappy hat caused me a veritable 
 torture, I mean a mental torture. Made with crepe 
 which dated from the death of Monsieur de Lavalle, 
 it had the look of a pancake which had been a play- 
 ground for impertinent snails. It was evidently un- 
 becoming; and this idea being unbearable, I took off 
 my hat, I rolled it into a wad, and I put it in my 
 pocket, the size and depth of which did honour to 
 Suzon's practical genius. 
 
 Next, I was tormented by the fear of appearing 
 stupid, for I knew that a multitude of things which 
 seemed natural to all the world would be a source 
 of surprise and wonder to me. I resolved, then, so 
 as not to expose my self-esteem to the danger of ridi- 
 cule, to hide my astonishments carefully. 
 
 These various preoccupations prevented me from 
 finding the journey long; and I thought we were still 
 
 far from C when we were just about reaching 
 
 it. We went directly to the railway station after 
 having passed through the town as rapidly as the 
 stiff joints of our horse would permit. 
 
 My uncle being neither stout nor thin, I had natu- 
 rally pictured him as both. I was therefore much 
 astonished when I saw a genial gentleman, with a
 
 1 1 8 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 careless gait, approach the cart and cry, if my uncle 
 could ever cry, 
 
 "Good-morning, my niece; I had really begun to 
 think that I had made a mistake in expecting you." 
 
 He gave me his hand to help me down, and em- 
 braced me cordially. After which, examining me 
 from head to foot, he said to me, 
 
 " Not taller than a fairy, but devilish pretty ! " 
 
 "That is exactly my opinion, Uncle," I answered, 
 dropping my eyes modestly. 
 
 "Ah, that is your opinion? " 
 
 " Yes, and that of my cure, and that of But here 
 is a letter from the cure for you, Uncle. " 
 
 "Why is he not here?" 
 
 " He was prevented by clerical duties." 
 
 " So much the worse ; I should have been happy to 
 see him. You have no hat, Niece ? " 
 
 " Yes, Uncle, it is in my pocket. " 
 
 " In your pocket ! Why there ? " 
 
 "Because it is hideous, Uncle." 
 
 " An excellent reason ! Who ever saw a hat carried 
 in a pocket! One cannot travel without a hat, ma 
 petite. Hurry and put it on, while I check your 
 baggage." 
 
 Somewhat disconcerted by this reprimand, I re- 
 placed my hat on my head, not without proof that a 
 journey in the pocket is not healthful for this product 
 of human industry.
 
 My Uncle and My Ciir'e. 1 1 9 
 
 After this I said good-by to Jean and Perrine. 
 
 "Ah, Mamselle," said Perrine to me, "if you were 
 a good and beautiful cow, I could not feel worse in 
 leaving you." 
 
 "Many thanks," I said, half laughing, half crying. 
 "Let us embrace and say good-by." 
 
 I kissed Perrine's firm red cheeks, on which, I 
 greatly fear, more than one soft-spoken scamp had 
 left kisses sly or resounding. 
 
 "Good-by, Jean." 
 
 "Good-by, Mamselle," said Jean, laughing stupidly, 
 which was his way of showing his feelings. 
 
 A few moments after, I was in the train seated oppo- 
 site my uncle, really scared and dizzy at the bustle 
 of the station and the novelty of my position. 
 
 When I had recovered myself a little, I examined 
 Monsieur de Pavol. 
 
 My uncle, of average height, well built, with broad 
 shoulders and thick red hands not very well cared for, 
 did not at first glance present an aristocratic appear- 
 ance. He had a red face, high forehead, large nose, 
 and hair like a brush cut very short; his eyes were 
 small and piercing, and deep-sunk beneath eyebrows 
 bushy and prominent. But under this commonplace 
 exterior could be seen at once the man of the world 
 and the man of family. His strongest feature, the 
 one most striking, was his mouth. Clear-cut, strong, 
 and fairly handsome, although the lower lip was a
 
 I2O My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 little thick, his mouth had an expression fine, ironi- 
 cal, humorous, crafty, and satirical which disconcerted 
 the least timid and floored them on the spot. In 
 observing it, one forgot entirely the commonplace in 
 my uncle's face, or rather one found nothing common- 
 place in it, and had to admit that his rough features 
 were a frame which brought out admirably his intel- 
 lectual mouth. 
 
 My uncle did not talk much, and always slowly, 
 but what he said was generally to the point. He 
 sometimes used strong expressions, which produced 
 a curious effect, because they were uttered slowly 
 and quietly. He was only sixty years old; but be- 
 ing subject to frequent attacks of the gout, his mind 
 was a little dulled by physical suffering. But if 
 he had lost his old quickness of repartee, his mouth, 
 by a movement nearly imperceptible, expressed all 
 the shades of difference between irony, shrewd- 
 ness, open ridicule, or satire; and I have seen per- 
 sons annihilated before my uncle had uttered a 
 word. 
 
 I was naturally too inexperienced to make at once 
 a searching study of Monsieur de Pavol; but I watched 
 him with the greatest interest. He, on his part, while 
 reading the letter which I had brought him, threw at 
 me, from time to time, a scrutinizing glance, as if 
 to satisfy himself that my face did not contradict the 
 cure's assertions.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 121 
 
 >" 
 
 "You look at me very fixedly, my niece," he said 
 to me. "Do you think me handsome, perchance?" 
 
 " Not the least in the world ! " 
 
 My uncle made a slight grimace. 
 
 " That is frankness, or I do not know it. And can 
 you tell me why you are so pale?" 
 
 "Because I am dying of fear, Uncle." 
 
 "Fear! and of what?" 
 
 " We are going so fast, it is frightful ! " 
 
 " Ah, very good, I understand. It is your first jour- 
 ney. But do not be alarmed; there is no danger." 
 
 " And my cousin, Uncle, is she at Pavol ? " 
 
 "Certainly; she will be greatly pleased to make 
 your acquaintance." 
 
 My uncle asked me some questions about my aunt 
 and my Itfe at Buisson ; then he took a newspaper and 
 said not a word until we were at V . 
 
 We there got into a landau, with two horses, which 
 was to take us to Pavol. My heavy packages were 
 piled in this elegant carriage as they best could be, 
 and presented a sorry appearance which mortified me 
 greatly. 
 
 Hardly were we in our seats than my uncle gave 
 me a package of cakes to cheer me up, and plunged 
 into a fresh newspaper. 
 
 This method of procedure began to irritate me. 
 
 Besides its being my way not to be long silent, I 
 had a great many questions to ask; so when I had
 
 122 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 grown used to the novelty of finding myself borne 
 along in a handsome, easy, well-upholstered carriage, 
 I ventured to break the silence. 
 
 "Uncle," I said, "if you don't care to read any 
 more, we might talk a little." 
 
 "Willingly, my niece," said my uncle, folding up 
 his paper at once. "I thought I was pleasing you 
 by leaving you to your thoughts. What are we going 
 to talk about ? Shall it be the Eastern question, politi- 
 cal economy, doll's dresses, or the habits of monkeys? " 
 
 "All these are of little interest to me; and as to 
 the habits of monkeys, I fancy, Uncle, that I know as 
 much on that subject as you." 
 
 "It is very possible," replied Monsieur de Pavol, 
 much astonished at my self-possession. 
 
 " Tell me, Uncle, are you not a little of a scamp ? " 
 
 " Heh ! what the devil do you say, my niece? " 
 
 " I ask you, Uncle, if you are not a little of a scamp 
 and a bully? " 
 
 " you, are you laughing at me?" cried my 
 
 uncle, using a word entirely unparliamentary. 
 
 "Don't be angry, Uncle; I am beginning a study of 
 morals, more interesting than the study of monkeys. 
 I want to know whether my aunt was right; she as- 
 serted that all men were scamps." 
 
 "Then your aunt had not common-sense." 
 
 "She had a great deal when she departed for the 
 other world, but not at any other time."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 123 
 
 Monsieur de Pavol looked at me with evident 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Ah, indeed, my niece ! you have a rather crude way 
 of expressing your thought ! You did not get on, then, 
 with Madame de Lavalle? " 
 
 " Not at all. She was very cross, and beat me more 
 than once. Ask the cure, whom she turned out of the 
 house on my account when he stood up for my rights. 
 And how did it happen, Uncle, that you left me so 
 long with her ? She was a woman of the people, and 
 you would not have liked her." 
 
 "When your parents died, Reine, my wife was 
 very ill, and I was only too glad that my sister-in-law 
 was willing to take charge of you. I saw you when 
 you were six years old; you seemed then happy and 
 well cared for, and since, upon my word, I had nearly 
 forgotten you. I regret it now keenly, since you were 
 not happy." 
 
 " You will keep me with you now always, Uncle? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said Monsieur de Pavol, with 
 almost animation. 
 
 "When I say always, I mean until my marriage, 
 for I shall marry soon." 
 
 " You will marry soon ! What, you have hardly 
 left the nursery, and you talk of marrying! Mar- 
 riage is a foolish invention, understand that, my 
 niece." 
 
 " Why ? "
 
 124 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 i 
 
 "Women are not worth a rap," said my uncle, in a 
 tone of conviction. 
 
 I threw myself back into my corner, shocked, as I 
 thought this estimate was not very flattering to my 
 Aunt Pavol. When I had meditated over my uncle's 
 remark, I answered, - 
 
 " But since I shall marry a man, it is- all the same 
 to me that women are not worth a rap. My husband 
 will have to arrange matters with me as best he 
 can." 
 
 " Here is logic for you ! You know how to reason, 
 it appears. Young girls are all crazy to marry, it 
 is a well-known fact." 
 
 " Does my cousin share my ideas ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied my uncle, gloomily. 
 
 "Ah, so much the better," I said, rubbing my 
 hands. " Is my cousin tall ? " 
 
 "Tall and lovely," answered Monsieur de Pavol, 
 complacently; "a veritable goddess and the delight 
 of my eyes. But you will see her in a moment, for 
 we are just arriving." 
 
 We were, in fact, turning into an avenue of huge 
 elms which led to the chateau. 
 
 My cousin awaited us on the steps, and received 
 me in her arms with the majesty of a queen accord- 
 ing a favour to a subject. 
 
 " Dieu! how beautiful you are!" I exclaimed, look- 
 ing at her with admiration.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 125 
 
 It is certainly rare to meet absolutely beautiful 
 women, but my cousin's beauty was so manifest as 
 not to admit of a question. She was not always 
 pleasing, her face being haughty and sometimes a 
 little hard, but those who admired her least were 
 obliged to say with my uncle, 
 
 " She is devilish pretty ! " 
 
 She had brown hair growing low on her forehead, 
 a perfectly pure Grecian profile, a beautiful colour, 
 dark eyelashes, and well-formed brows. Tall, strong, 
 with a well-developed figure, she would have passed 
 for more than eighteen had not her mouth, notwith- 
 standing a little disdainful curve, which threatened 
 to become too accentuated later, had signs of weak- 
 ness, betraying early youth. Her step and her move- 
 ments were slow and a little nonchalant, though always 
 harmonious and without affectation. A friend of 
 Monsieur de Pavol had said laughingly one day that 
 at twenty-five she would resemble Juno line for line. 
 The name clung to her. 
 
 I was suddenly seized with a veritable enthusiasm 
 for my magnificent cousin; and my uncle was much 
 amused at my astonishment. 
 
 "You have never seen beautiful women, then, my 
 niece? " 
 
 " I have never seen anything at all, for I was buried 
 alive in a hole." 
 
 "You should look in the glass, Reine; Monsieur de
 
 126 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Conprat told us the truth, that you were very 
 pretty." 
 
 " Paul de Conprat ? " I cried. 
 
 "It is a fact," said my uncle; "I had forgotten to 
 speak to you of him. It seems that he took refuge at 
 Buisson one stormy day?" 
 
 "I remember him well," I answered, blushing. 
 
 " Is he coming to breakfast on Monday, Blanche? " 
 
 "Yes, Father; the commandant has written a line 
 to-day to accept the invitation. Who made your 
 dresses, Reine?" 
 
 " Suzon, a counterpart of my aunt in bad taste 
 and stupidity," I answered viciously. 
 
 "We will make good the deficiency of your ward- 
 robe to-morrow, my niece. Only have a little more 
 respect for the memory of Madame de Lavalle. You 
 did not love her; but she is dead, and peace to her 
 soul. Come to dinner. Juno will show you your 
 rooms afterward." 
 
 I passed a part of the night at my window in deli- 
 cious dreams, and in watching the sombre masses of 
 the great trees about Pavol, where I was to laugh, to 
 weep, to amuse myself, to mourn, and to see my des- 
 tiny accomplished. 
 
 I was so happy that night that my cure was hardly 
 an appreciable unit in my recollections.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "OUT I beg that no one will believe me trifling 
 *-* and inconstant, for this forgetfulness was only 
 momentary ; and three days after my arrival at Pavol, 
 I wrote my cure the following letter: 
 
 MY DEAR CUR&, I have so many things to say, so many 
 discoveries to tell you of, so many confidences to make, that I 
 do not know where to begin. Picture to yourself that the sun 
 is brighter here than at Buisson ; that the trees are finer ; that 
 the flowers are fresher ; that everything is delightful ; that an 
 uncle is one of Nature's happy inventions ; and that my cousin 
 is beautiful as a fairy. Though you should lecture me, scold 
 me, and remonstrate well with me, my dear cure", you could not 
 change my opinion that if Francis I. loved women as beauti- 
 ful as Blanche de Pavol he had a singularly sound judgment. 
 You yourself, Monsieur le Cure, even you, would fall in love 
 with her at sight. But I confess that her queenly manner in- 
 timidates me a little, me, whom nothing intimidates. And
 
 128 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 then she is so tall ; and I could have wished that she were 
 small, it would have consoled me a little, although I know 
 now that my figure, even if small, is lithe, elegant, and per- 
 fectly proportioned. All the same, a few inches more in 
 height, what difference could it have made, I ask you, to the 
 Iwn Dieu ? Confess, Monsieur le Cure", that the bon Dieu is 
 sometimes very contrary. 
 
 1 will not speak of my uncle, for I know that you know 
 him ; but I see already that I shall love him, and that I have 
 made a conquest of him. It is a great pleasure to have a 
 good figure, my dear cure", very much greater than you would 
 like to admit ; every one admires it, and when I am a grand- 
 mother, I will tell my grandchildren that it was the first and 
 most delightful discovery which I made when I went into the 
 world. But there is plenty of time to think of that. 
 
 Although I go from surprise to surprise, I am already per- 
 fectly accustomed to Pavol and the luxury which surrounds 
 me. Nevertheless, I should sometimes utter exclamations of 
 astonishment if I were not afraid of appearing ridiculous ; I 
 conceal my impressions, but to you, my dear cure, I can con- 
 fess that I am often greatly amazed. 
 
 We went to V day before yesterday to buy me an 
 
 outfit, Suzon's productions being decided horrors. Don't de- 
 lude yourself, my poor cure" ; notwithstanding your admiration 
 for certain gowns, I came here dressed like a fright, a perfect 
 fright. 
 
 Ah, what a pleasant thing a town is ! I was delighted, 
 was wonder-struck, at the streets, the shops, the houses, the 
 churches ; and Blanche was much amused at me, for she calls 
 
 V a hole on a hill. What would one call Buisson, then? 
 
 After a three hours' interview with the dressmaker and milli-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 129 
 
 ner, my cousin, who is very devout, went to confession, and 
 left me to make some purchases with the maid. My uncle 
 had given me some money to purchase what was useful and 
 practical; but do you believe that I cannot decide what is 
 useful and practical? I began by going to a cake-shop, and 
 stuffing myself with little cakes ; I humbly acknowledge, my 
 dear cure, that I have a passion for little cakes. While I 
 gave myself up to this occupation, as necessary as agreeable, 
 you will admit, for after all it is an important duty to nourish 
 this body of clay, I noticed many very pretty things in a shop 
 facing that of the confectioner. I went at once and bought 
 forty-two little terra-cotta men, all they had in the place. 
 After that I not only had no money left, but I was deeply in 
 debt, though that troubled me little, for I am rich. My 
 cousin laughed a great deal, but my uncle scolded me. He 
 wished me to understand that common-sense ought to guide 
 every one, great or small, that it is useful at every age, and 
 that without it one does foolish things ; for example, one 
 buys forty-two little terra-cotta men instead of supplying one's 
 self with stockings and chemises. I heard this discourse with 
 a contrite and humble air, my dear cur ; but at its end, which 
 was, on my word, very fine, my rebellious fancy pictured com- 
 mon-sense as having an ill-favoured body, a long, almost 
 Roman nose, a face withered and sharp, and this individual 
 resembled my aunt so much that, on the spot, I took a dislike 
 to common-sense. Such was the result of my uncle's elo- 
 quence. Meantime I have forty-two little men weeping, smil- 
 ing, grimacing, scattered about my room, and I am happy. 
 
 Last night I talked with Blanche about love, Monsieur le 
 Cure. Why did you say to me that it was found only in 
 
 books, and that it did not concern young girls ? Ah, my cur, 
 
 9
 
 130 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 my cure" ! I am afraid that you very often deceived me. 
 We shall go into society when the first weeks of mourning 
 have passed. My uncle thinks me very young, but I cannot 
 stay at Pavol alone. If it were in question, you understand, 
 Monsieur le Cure", that there would be only one thing to do, 
 either to throw myself out of the window, or to set the house 
 on fire. 
 
 It appears that I have good reason to expect a great suc- 
 cess, because I am both pretty and the owner of a big dot. 
 Blanche has informed me that a pretty face without a dot has 
 little value, but that the two things combined make a perfect 
 whole and a rare morsel. I am, then, my dear cure", a savoury 
 mouthful, delicate and succulent, which will be envied, sought 
 after, and swallowed in the twinkling of an eye, if I am willing 
 to permit it. I shall not permit it, rest easy, at least until 
 But, chut! 
 
 And now, Monsieur le Cure", I am awaiting Monday with 
 impatience, only I will not tell you why. On that day an 
 event is to take place which makes my heart beat, an event 
 which makes me want to pirouette until I am out of breath, 
 to throw my hat in the air, to dance, and to commit some 
 folly. Dieu .' what a beautiful thing life is ! 
 
 But nothing is perfect, because you are not here, and I 
 miss you very much. I cannot tell you how much, my poor 
 cure*. I should so love to make you admire the chateau and 
 the well-kept gardens, so little like those at Buisson. I should 
 so love to have you enjoy the generous and comfortable life 
 which is led here. The smallest thing is arranged down to its 
 minutest detail ; and I really believe myself in a terrestrial par- 
 adise. Every moment I have some new cause for pleasure and 
 admiration, and every moment 1 wish to share it with you. I
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 131 
 
 want you, I call you ; but the echoes of this beautiful park are 
 silent. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, good cur ; I do not embrace you, be- 
 cause one does not embrace a cure (I wonder why, for in- 
 stance), but I send you all my heart holds for you, and it is 
 full of affection. I adore you, Monsieur le Cure. 
 
 REINE. 
 
 It is a fact that I accustomed myself at once to 
 the atmosphere of luxury and elegance into which I 
 had been suddenly transplanted. It is equally certain 
 that although Blanche was very friendly with me, and 
 had decided that we should be on intimate terms, 
 she overawed me during the first days that followed my 
 arrival at Pavol. Her goddess-like carriage, her slight 
 air of haughtiness, and the idea that she had had much 
 more experience than I, all this overpowered me and 
 prevented my being very unreserved with her. But 
 that impression lasted only as long as an icicle under 
 an April sun ; and after a conversation which we had 
 Sunday morning in my room, the prestige with which 
 I had endowed her disappeared entirely. 
 
 I was still in bed, half asleep and coddling myself 
 deliciously, opening an eye from time to time to 
 survey with delight my bright and comfortable room, 
 my little terra-cotta men, and the trees which I could 
 see through the open window. Blanche came in, in 
 a long wrapper, her hair on her shoulders, and an 
 anxious look on her face.
 
 132 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " As beautiful as the most beautiful of Walter Scott's 
 heroines," I said, watching her with admiration. 
 
 "Petite Reine," she said, seating herself on the foot 
 of my bed, " I have come to talk with you." 
 
 " So much the better. But I am not entirely awake, 
 and my ideas are befogged." 
 
 "Even if it is about marriage?" asked Blanche, 
 who knew already my opinion on this important 
 subject. 
 
 " Marriage ! I am very wide awake ! " I said, rais- 
 ing myself up suddenly. 
 
 " Do you want to be married, Reine ? " 
 
 "Do I want to be married! What a question! I 
 do indeed, and as soon as possible. I adore men; I 
 love them much more than women, except when the 
 women are as beautiful as you." 
 
 "One should not say that one adores men," said 
 Blanche, severely. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I do not know exactly why; but I assure you that 
 it is not proper for a young girl. " 
 
 " So much the worse. Besides, I think it is ! " I 
 answered, snuggling down under the covers. 
 
 "Child!" exclaimed Blanche, looking at me with a 
 sort of pity which was rather offensive. " I have 
 come to talk to you about my father, Reine." 
 
 "What about him?" 
 
 " Listen. I am like you in wanting to marry some
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 133 
 
 day or other; my father has already refused many 
 good offers, but that is all the same to me, because 
 I am in no hurry. I am willing to wait until I am 
 twenty; but I should like to know if he is going to 
 object always to my marriage." 
 
 "You must ask him." 
 
 "Ah, that is the difficulty," answered Blanche, a 
 little embarrassed. " I confess that I am afraid of 
 my father, or rather that he overawes me." 
 
 Filled with surprise, I raised myself on my elbow, 
 and pushed back the hair which fell over my face to 
 see my cousin better. In that moment she fell from 
 the clouds of Olympus, on which I had placed her; 
 and under the beautiful figure of Juno, I discovered 
 a young girl, who no longer intimidated me. 
 
 "No one overawes me," I cried, seizing my pillow 
 and sending it flying into the middle of the room. 
 
 Blanche looked at me in astonishment. 
 
 " What are you doing, Reine ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is a habit of mine. When I was at Buisson, 
 I always threw my pillow, no matter where, to pro- 
 voke Suzon, whom it always put in a passion." 
 
 "As Suzon is not here, I advise you to give up 
 the habit. But to return to what we were saying, do 
 you think you have the courage to have an argument 
 with my father on the subject of marriage, which he 
 is always abusing?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; I am very strong on arguing, you will
 
 134 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 see. I will attack my uncle to-night, and will manage 
 things easily." 
 
 During dinner I addressed an expressive pantomime 
 to my cousin, to let her know that I was going to 
 enter the lists. My uncle, who scented some clanger, 
 watched under his shaggy eyebrows; and Blanche, 
 already disconcerted, urged me by a sign to be quiet. 
 But I snapped my fingers, coughed loudly, and leaped 
 boldly into the arena. 
 
 "Uncle, can persons have children without being 
 married? " 
 
 "No, certainly not!" answered my uncle, whom my 
 question seemed to amuse greatly. 
 
 "Would it be a misfortune if humanity were to 
 disappear? " 
 
 " Hum ! That is a grave question. Philanthropists 
 would say yes, and misanthropes, no." 
 
 " But your opinion, Uncle ? " 
 
 " I have not given the matter consideration. Never- 
 theless, as Providence has done all things well, I vote 
 for the perpetuation of the human race." 
 
 "Then, Uncle, you are not consistent when you 
 abuse marriage." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " said my uncle. 
 
 " Since one cannot have children unless married, 
 and you vote for the perpetuation of the human race, 
 it follows that you ought to approve of marriage for 
 every one."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 135 
 
 " Ventre Saint-Gris!" exclaimed Monsieur de Pa- 
 vol, working his lip with so satirical an air that 
 Blanche became red; "this is what it is to argue. 
 What is marriage, then, in your opinion, my niece?" 
 
 " Marriage, " I said enthusiastically, " is the most 
 beautiful of all the institutions in the world, a life- 
 long union with him whom one loves! They sing and 
 dance together; he kisses her hand. It is charming! " 
 
 " He kisses her hand ! Why the hand, my niece? " 
 
 "Because it is oh, that is an idea of mine," I 
 said, addressing a smile full of mystery to my past. 
 
 " Marriage is an institution which delivers a victim 
 to the executioner," growled my uncle. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Juno and I protested with all our might. 
 
 "Who is the victim, Father?" 
 
 "The man, parbleu!" 
 
 "So much the worse for the men," I answered in 
 a decided tone; "let them defend themselves. As 
 for me, I am ready to transform myself into an 
 executioner." 
 
 "'What are you trying to get at now, young ladies ? " 
 
 "At this, Uncle: Blanche and I are strong advo- 
 cates of marriage, and we have resolved to put our 
 theories into practice. I wish it to be as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 "Reine!" cried my cousin, stunned at my audacity. 
 
 "I have spoken the truth, Blanche; only you are
 
 136 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 willing to wait, while as for me, I have not the 
 patience." 
 
 "Indeed, my niece! I suppose, however, that you 
 are not in love ? " 
 
 "Naturally," said Blanche, laughing; "she does 
 not know a soul." 
 
 Since my arrival at Pavol I had often thought of 
 my love and of Monsieur de Conprat; and I often 
 asked myself if I ought not to tell my cousin this 
 inmost secret of my heart. But all things consid- 
 ered, I decided in this case to break all my princi- 
 ples and to join the Arab in finding with him that 
 silence is golden. Nevertheless, at this assertion 
 by Blanche, and notwithstanding my fixed resolution 
 to keep my secret, I was on the point of letting it 
 out; but I managed to overcome the temptation to 
 speak. 
 
 " In any case, I shall be in love some day or other, 
 for one cannot live without loving." 
 
 " Indeed ! Where have you got your ideas, Reine ? " 
 
 "But, Uncle, that is life," I answered composedly. 
 "Just consider Walter Scott's heroines a moment, 
 how they love and are loved." 
 
 "Ah, did the cure permit you to read romances 
 and give you a course on love ? " 
 
 "My poor cure! How I provoked him about that 
 very thing ! As to romances, Uncle, he did not wish 
 me to have them ; he even carried off the key of the
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 139 
 
 library, but I got in through the window by breaking 
 a pane. " 
 
 "Here is a promising child! As a consequence, 
 you are in haste to day-dream and moon about love." 
 
 "I do not moon at all, Uncle, above all, on that 
 subject, for I know perfectly well what I am talking 
 about." 
 
 " Diable!" said my uncle, laughing, "and yet you 
 say that you are not in love with any one." 
 
 "It is true," I answered quickly, confused enough 
 at my blunder. "But do you not think, Uncle, that 
 reflection can supply the lack of experience?" 
 
 " Most assuredly ! I am convinced of it, especially 
 on such a subject. And then you seem to me to have 
 a very well-ordered mind." 
 
 " I am only logical, Uncle. Tell me, does one ever 
 love any man but one's husband? " 
 
 "No, never!" answered Monsieur de Pavol, smiling. 
 
 "Very well; since one loves no man but one's hus- 
 band, and one naturally always loves one's husband 
 dearly, and one is not able to live without love, I con- 
 clude that it is necessary to marry." 
 
 "Yes; but not before twenty-one, young ladies." 
 
 "It is all the same to me," said Blanche. 
 
 " But it is not all the same to me ; I can never wait 
 five years ! " 
 
 "You will have to wait five years, Reine; at least, 
 unless in some extraordinary case."
 
 140 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "What do you call an extraordinary case, Uncle? " 
 
 " A match so suitable in every respect that it would 
 be absurd to refuse it." 
 
 This modification of my uncle's programme was so 
 delightful to me that I jumped up to pirouette. 
 
 "Then I am sure of my case," I cried, taking to 
 my heels. 
 
 I took refuge in my room, where Juno soon ap- 
 peared, with a majestic air. 
 
 " How brazen you are, Reine ! " 
 
 "Brazen! Is that the way you thank me when I 
 did what you wanted me to?" 
 
 " Yes ; but you say things so point blank. " 
 
 "It is my way; I like things on the square." 
 
 "Then it seemed as if you wanted to vex my 
 father." 
 
 " I should be sorry indeed to vex him. He charms 
 me with his satirical face, and I already love him 
 dearly. But to keep to the subject, Blanche, it was 
 he who provoked us, by declaiming against marriage, 
 and, after all, you know what you wanted to know." 
 
 "Certainly," answered Blanche, in a dreamy way. 
 
 Monsieur de Pavol learned very soon, to his cost, 
 that if women were not worth a rap, young girls were 
 worth no more, and trampled under foot without win- 
 cing the views of a father and an uncle.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1\ /T ONDAY morning I got up feeling very happy. 
 ** I dreamed of Paul de Conprat in the night, 
 and I woke uttering a cry of joy. 
 
 The pleasure of putting on for the first time a gown 
 such as I had never owned added still more to my 
 cheerfulness ; and when I was dressed, I looked at my- 
 self for a long time in silent admiration. Then I set 
 myself to whirling around in an access of exuberant 
 joy, and nearly overturned my uncle in the hall. 
 
 "Where are you running to in this fashion, my 
 niece? " 
 
 " Into the bedrooms, Uncle, to survey myself in 
 all the mirrors. See how well I look ! "
 
 142 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Not badly, it's a fact." 
 
 " Is not my figure pretty in a well-made dress? " 
 
 "Charming," answered Monsieur de Pavol, who 
 seemed enchanted at my delight, and who kissed me 
 on both cheeks. 
 
 " Ah, Uncle, how happy I am ! It is my opinion, 
 as Perrine would say, that the ' extraordinary case ' 
 will soon present itself." 
 
 Upon that I disappeared and precipitated myself 
 like a water-spout into Juno's room. 
 
 " Look ! " I cried, spinning around so rapidly that 
 my cousin could see only a whirlwind. 
 
 "Be quiet a moment, Reine," she said, with her 
 usual calm. "When will you give up your whirl- 
 ings? Yes; the dress is very nice." 
 
 " Look what a little foot," I said, pushing it forward. 
 
 "You inborn coquette!" cried Blanche, laughing. 
 "Who would have thought that such a little savage 
 as you could have already reached such a degree 
 of coquetry ? " 
 
 "You will see more still," I answered seriously. 
 "I know, you see, that coquetry is an accomplish- 
 ment, a real accomplishment." 
 
 " It is the first time that I have heard it. Who 
 told you? Not your cure, I suppose." 
 
 "No, no; but some one who knew perfectly. Is 
 any one beside the De Conprats coming to breakfast, 
 Blanche?"
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 143 
 
 " Yes; the cure and two of my father's friends." 
 
 We installed ourselves in the salon to await our 
 guests; and soon my uncle arrived with the Com- 
 mandant de Conprat, to whom he presented me. 
 
 Mon Dien! what a handsome face the commandant's 
 was ! He had eyes as limpid as those of a child, with 
 mustache and hair as white as snow, and an expres- 
 sion so good, so kindly, that he recalled my cure, 
 though there was not any real resemblance between 
 them. I felt myself drawn to him at once, and I saw 
 that the attraction was mutual. 
 
 "A little relative of whom I have heard," he said, 
 taking my hands. "Let me kiss you, my child. I 
 was a friend of your father." 
 
 I allowed myself to be embraced with a good grace, 
 not without saying inwardly that I should much prefer 
 to have his son relieve him in this delicate operation. 
 
 At last he came; and I would have willingly 
 given my entire dot, and my pretty dress to boot, 
 for the right to run to him and embrace him with 
 open arms. 
 
 He shook hands with my cousin, and saluted me 
 so ceremoniously that I stood still, quite confused. 
 
 "Give me your hand," I said; "you know perfectly 
 well that we are acquainted." 
 
 " I was awaiting your good pleasure, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "What stupidity!" 
 
 "There, there, Reine!" said my uncle, reprovingly.
 
 144 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " A bit of a wild-flower," said the commandant, look- 
 ing at me in a friendly way, " but a lovely flower, truly. " 
 
 These words did not succeed in dispelling the irri- 
 tation which I felt without knowing exactly why, 
 and I remained silent for some time in my corner, 
 watching Monsieur de Conprat, who talked gayly with 
 Blanche. Ah, how charming he seemed, and how 
 my heart beat when I saw again his pleasant smile, 
 his white teeth, and the honest eyes of which I had 
 so often dreamed in my horrid old home! And my 
 aunt, my cur6, Suzon, the wet garden, and the cherry- 
 tree in which he had climbed passed across my mem- 
 ory like flying shadows. 
 
 Soon I joined in the conversation, and had recov- 
 ered part of my good-humour when we went into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Seated between the cure and Monsieur de Con- 
 prat, I attacked the latter at once. 
 
 "Why did you not come back to Buisson? " I said 
 to him. 
 
 " I was not the master of my own movements, my 
 cousin." 
 
 " You regretted it, at least ? " 
 
 "Very greatly, I assure you." 
 
 "Why, then, did you not shake hands with me 
 when you came? " 
 
 "But etiquette required that you should make the 
 first advance, Mademoiselle."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 145 
 
 " Ah, etiquette ! You did not think of it over there. " 
 
 "No; we met under peculiar circumstances, and 
 were out of the world, that is certain," he answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Does the world hinder one from being friendly? " 
 
 "No, not exactly; but the proprieties often repress 
 an outburst of friendship." 
 
 "It is very silly!" I said shortly. 
 
 But 1 was well enough satisfied with the explanation 
 to recover all my spirits. Nevertheless, in talking 
 with him, I perceived that he did not attach the same 
 importance as I to what he had said to me at Bins- 
 son. But I was so happy to see him, and to speak 
 with him, that at the moment this little misgiving 
 passed through my mind without impairing its con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " Monsieur de Conprat says that there will be a 
 number of balls in the month of October." 
 
 "I am delighted," answered Juno. 
 
 "You will teach me how to dance? " I said, dancing 
 already on my chair. 
 
 "I demand the office of instructor !" cried Paul de 
 Conprat. 
 
 "Paul is an accomplished dancer," said the com- 
 mandant; "all the ladies like to waltz with him." 
 
 " And, besides, he is charming," I added with unction. 
 
 The commandant and his son laughed; the cure and 
 my uncle's two friends looked at me smilingly, nod-
 
 146 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 ding their heads paternally. But Monsieur de Pavel's 
 face assumed a displeased expression ; and my cousin 
 raised her eyebrows, an action peculiar to her when 
 something displeased her, and an action so full of 
 disdain that I had the painful impression of having 
 said something silly. 
 
 After dinner we walked in the wood. I had 
 recovered my cheerfulness, and talked without stop- 
 ping, amusing myself with imitating the look and 
 accent of one of our guests whose absurdities struck 
 me. 
 
 " Reine, how badly you have been brought up ! " 
 said Blanche. 
 
 "He speaks this way," I answered, pinching my 
 nose to imitate my victim's voice. 
 
 Monsieur de Conprat laughed ; but Juno wrapped 
 herseli in an imposing dignity which did not trouble 
 me the least in the world. 
 
 There was a moment when I was beside him, while 
 my cousin walked on before with a nonchalant air. I 
 noticed that he watched her closely. 
 
 " How beautiful she is, isn't she?" I said to him 
 in the innocence of my heart. 
 
 "Lovely, perfectly lovely!" he answered in a 
 suppressed voice which made me start. 
 
 A doubt and a presentiment crossed my mind ; but 
 at sixteen impressions of this kind take flight and 
 disappear like the butterflies which flutter about us,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 147 
 
 and I was in a state of foolish gayety until our 
 guests said farewell to Monsieur de Pavol. 
 
 When they had gone, my uncle retired to his 
 study, and sent for me. 
 
 " Reine, you have been ridiculous. " 
 
 " How, pray, Uncle ? " 
 
 "One does not say to a young man that he is 
 charming, my niece." 
 
 "But it was because I found him so, Uncle." 
 
 " All the more reason not to say it. " 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, nonplussed. " Then ought I 
 to say that I found him the reverse of charming?" 
 
 " You ought not to touch on the subject. Have what 
 opinions you please, but keep them to yourself." 
 
 "But it is very natural to say what one thinks, 
 Uncle." 
 
 " Not in the world, my niece. Half of the time it 
 is necessary to say what you do not think, and to 
 conceal what you do." 
 
 "What a frightful principle!" I exclaimed in hor- 
 ror. "I shall never be able to put it in practice." 
 
 " You will learn to ; but in the mean time observe 
 the rules of etiquette." 
 
 " That everlasting etiquette ! " I exclaimed, going 
 out of the room in a bad humour. 
 
 That night in dreaming at my window, as I had 
 taken up the custom of doing, my musings were 
 troubled by an indefinite disquiet which I could not
 
 148 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 well define. I thought over the day, awaited with 
 such impatience; and I could not conceal from myself 
 that things had not gone as I had wished. What 
 had I expected? I did not know; but I talked to 
 myself a long time to convince myself that Monsieur 
 de Conprat was in love with me, and my peroration 
 was followed by a feeling of foreboding. 
 
 Nevertheless, the next day my uneasiness had dis- 
 appeared ; but in the afternoon I received a long letter 
 from my cure, a letter filled with good advice, and 
 ending thus: 
 
 s. 
 
 " Petite Reine, your letter has come to console and delight 
 me in my solitude. Do not fail to write me, I pray you. 
 I do not know how to get on without you, and I do not dare 
 to go to Buisson, for fear of weeping like a child. I reproach 
 myself for my selfishness, for you are happy ; but, as says the 
 Scripture, the flesh is weak, and uxy freslytirc, my duties, and 
 my prayers have not been able to comfort me. 
 
 " Farewell, dear, good little child ; my last word to you 
 shall be, Distrust your imagination." 
 
 And this sentence produced a disagreeable impression 
 on my already depressed spirits.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 T HAD been installed for three weeks at Pavol; 
 *- and my uncle asserted that I was so improved 
 in appearance that it would be impossible for the 
 cure to recognize me if he met me. He compared 
 me to a perennial plant which grows well in a thank- 
 less soil, because it comes of good stock, but whose 
 beauty develops all at once and incredibly when it 
 is transplanted to a congenial earth. 
 
 When I looked into the glass, I had proof that my 
 brown eyes had a new brilliancy, that my lips were 
 ruddier, and that my dark skin was acquiring rosy 
 and delicate tones which awoke in me a lively 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Nevertheless, a few days after the breakfast of 
 which I have spoken, I discovered, without a shadow 
 of doubt, that in my great simplicity I was thor- 
 oughly deceived in believing that Monsieur de Conprat
 
 150 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 was in love with me. But I had never been a pessi- 
 mist, and I called in my logic to console me. I said 
 to myself that of necessity all hearts could not be 
 constructed alike; that some yield instantly, while 
 others must ponder and consider well before taking 
 fire ; that if Monsieur de Conprat did not love me, he 
 would some day or other, because it was clear that 
 there was an actual resemblance between our respec- 
 tive tastes and characters. So that although the 
 deception had been a great one, my peace of mind 
 for many days was not seriously affected. And I ex- 
 panded in this spot so congenial to my tastes; I 
 basked in my happiness like a lizard in the sun. 
 
 My cousin was very musical. The commandant, 
 who was devoted to music, came to Pavol often dur- 
 ing the week, and his son regularly came with him. 
 The door was always open to him, because of his 
 youthful intimacy with Blanche, and the ties of kin- 
 ship which united the two families. Furthermore, 
 my uncle saw this intimacy with pleasure, because, 
 with the approval of the commandant, and notwith- 
 standing his diatribes on marriage, he wished very 
 much to marry his daughter to Monsieur de Conprat, 
 finding, with sufficiently good reason, that he repre- 
 sented an "extraordinary case." 
 
 I learned of this project later on, at the same time 
 with other facts which I should have discovered easily 
 if I had had more experience.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 151 
 
 The gentlemen usually came to breakfast. Paul, 
 endowed with the appetite you know of, ate heartily, 
 and took a bite at three o'clock. After that, if we 
 were alone, Blanche gave me a dancing lesson while 
 he played with animation a waltz of her composition. 
 Sometimes he was the teacher; my cousin took her 
 place at the piano; the commandant and my uncle 
 watched us with a jovial air; and 1 spun around in 
 the arms of Monsieur de Conprat with a joy unspeak- 
 able. Ah, what happy days! 
 
 We made no plan without his sharing it. His 
 contagious cheerfulness, his considerate disposition, 
 and the genius for organization and droll invention 
 which he possessed in the highest degree, made him 
 a charming companion, brightened our existence, and 
 increased my love. Adroit, ingenious, and obliging, 
 he was good for everything, and knew how to do 
 everything. If we broke a watch or a bracelet, or 
 no matter what, we would say, Blanche and I, " If 
 Paul comes to-day, he will mend it." 
 
 He painted a good deal, and often brought us his 
 productions. It is the only point on which I could 
 never agree with him. I had an inveterate antipathy 
 for the arts; but, above all, for music, because that 
 wretched etiquette forbade me to stop my ears, while 
 it is easy not to look at a picture or to turn one's 
 back on it. Sometimes, when Monsieur de Conprat 
 played dance music, I listened willingly and for a long
 
 152 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 time; but it was he in the music that I loved, and 
 not the music itself. I note this sentiment in pass- 
 ing, because one day I analyzed it, and the analysis 
 led me to a terrible discovery. 
 
 "Why paint the trees, Cousin?" I would say. 
 "The ugliest tree is vastly better than these little 
 green dabs which you put on your canvas." 
 
 "Is that the way you understand art, young 
 cousin? " 
 
 "Do you not think that Juno is a thousand times 
 more beautiful in reality than in her portrait ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; I know it ! " 
 
 "And these little blue flowers that you place in 
 the trees, what are they?" 
 
 "But that is a bit of sky, Cousin." 
 
 I pirouetted, and cried pathetically, 
 
 " O heavens ! O trees ! O Nature ! what crimes are 
 committed in your names!" 
 
 My uncle had many friends at V ; he was con- 
 nected with nearly all the families thereabout, and 
 kept open house. It was seldom that we did not 
 have some guests to breakfast or to dine. It was 
 for me a way of making acquaintance with social cus- 
 toms, and of acquiring, as the cure said, a mental 
 equipoise; but I must say that I acquired little of 
 this, and that I never reached the point of dissem- 
 bling my impressions and my thoughts, which were 
 often as ridiculous as impertinent.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 155 
 
 My uncle and Juno, rigid on the subject of the 
 proprieties, addressed me certain perfectly intelligi- 
 ble remonstrances, but they might as well have talked 
 to the wind. With a persistence truly lamentable, I 
 never lost an opportunity to commit a blunder or 
 make a foolish speech. 
 
 "You were very impolite to Madame A , 
 
 Reine." 
 
 "How, you hypocritical Juno? I let her see that 
 I did not like her, that's all." 
 
 "It is precisely that which is rude, my niece." 
 
 " She is so ugly, Uncle ! You see I do not feel 
 drawn toward women. They are so satirical and 
 spiteful, and examine you from head to foot as if 
 you were a strange animal." 
 
 " How can you reproach them for being satirical, 
 Reine? You spend your time in noticing people's 
 absurdities, and imitating them." 
 
 " Yes, but I am pretty, and everything is permitted 
 me; Monsieur C told me so the other day." 
 
 "I do not agree with his deduction. But do you 
 not believe that men examine you from head to 
 foot ? " 
 
 "Yes, but it is with admiration; while women look 
 for faults in my figure, or invent them, if need be. 
 You see, I have already noticed a number of things." 
 
 "So it appears, my niece; but try to notice that 
 good manners are a real accomplishment."
 
 156 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 When our guests were young men, they devoted 
 themselves to Blanche and me, and I was much en- 
 tertained; but when they were old Dicn! the poli- 
 tics which always started up, enough to make the 
 head ache. Ah, how they bored me, those politics! 
 
 The worthy men would arrive, greatly excited at 
 some misdeeds of the government. They would talk 
 with moderation until some fiery Bonapartist would 
 cry that he would like to shoot all republicans, to 
 strike them with terror. The naivett of the expres- 
 sion would cause a laugh and clear the decks of 
 irritation and wild talk. We would throw ourselves 
 head-first into politics, and dabble in them until the 
 end of dinner. All agreed in abominating a repub- 
 lic and republicans; but when each guest would draw 
 from his pocket a little scheme of government which 
 he had been careful to bring with him, they were 
 not long in darting furious glances at one another, 
 and becoming red as tomatoes. 
 
 The legitimist wrapped himself in the dignity of 
 his traditions, his reverence for the throne, and his 
 regrets, and considered the imperialist a revolutionist ; 
 the latter in his inmost soul considered the legitimist 
 a fool, but politeness not allowing him to express his 
 opinion, he would bawl the louder to make up for 
 it. Then some one would fall afresh upon the republi- 
 cans, would pile up invectives on them, would trans- 
 port them, would shoot them, would decapitate them,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 157 
 
 would pound them to a jelly; imperialists and legiti- 
 mists would unite in a common hatred to sweep these 
 unhappy bipeds from the face of the earth. They 
 would perorate passionately, gesticulate, save the 
 country, and grow purple in the face, which did not, 
 alas ! prevent things from going on in their own 
 sweet way. 
 
 My uncle, in the midst of these divagations, would 
 throw out from time to time a witty remark or one 
 full of good sense, and would raise the discussion 
 to a more elevated plane than that of personal inter- 
 ests and individual sympathies. In no sense a legiti- 
 mist, and yet having no fixed opinions, he none the 
 less thought that for nearly a century France had 
 advanced with her eyes on the ground, and that this 
 abnormal position would end in making her lose her 
 equilibrium and fall into some abyss, where she 
 would be buried. 
 
 He laughed at the tricks and the blunders of the 
 different political parties; but he often felt sick at 
 heart, which he showed by some humorous remark. 
 I have never seen him angry; he preserved his tran- 
 quillity in the midst of the varied clamours of his 
 guests, sure, for that matter, of having the last word, 
 because he saw clearly and far. Nevertheless his an- 
 tipathies were active; and he detested the republi- 
 cans. Not that he was too much in earnest to be 
 impartial; he would have accepted a republic had he
 
 158 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 believed it practicable, and he respected the honesty 
 of certain men who strove in good faith for a Utopia. 
 
 I have sometimes heard him call our rulers racket- 
 players, comparing the laws which the two chambers 
 bandy to and fro daily to the balls, which the French 
 people, gazing aloft, watched devoutly flying through 
 the air, until they fell on their respectable carti- 
 lages and flattened them entirely. From which I 
 drew, for my own little scheme of government, some 
 deductions which I will mention in their time and 
 place. 
 
 Monsieur de Pavol liked conversation and even 
 argument. If he spoke little, he listened with interest. 
 Under a rough exterior he had -a wide knowledge, a 
 taste correct, elevated, and delicate, great common- 
 sense, and a really high point of view. He was 
 neither a saint nor a bigot. Like the majority of 
 men, he had, I suppose, his weaknesses and his faults ; 
 but he believed in God, in the soul, in virtue, and 
 did not in the least consider unbelief, cavilling, and 
 the spirit of disparagement as evidence of manliness 
 and intelligence. He loved to hear materialists and 
 free-thinkers develop their theories; and his mouth 
 was expressive as he watched his opponent and made 
 his heavy brows meet until they almost entirely hid 
 his eyes. Then he would answer slowly and very 
 quietly, 
 
 "Morbleu, Monsieur, I admire you! You have
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 159 
 
 nearly reached that perfect humility preached by the 
 Evangelist. I am overcome at not being able to 
 follow in your steps; but I have a devil of a pride 
 which always prevents my putting myself on a level 
 with the worm which crawls at my feet, or the pig 
 which wallows in my pen." 
 
 Always at war with the municipal council of his 
 commune, he did not love the villagers, and declared 
 that no one is more knavish and rascally than a peas- 
 ant; so that though he was esteemed and respected, 
 he was not loved. Nevertheless, he gave largely in 
 charity, and offered his services when there was occa- 
 sion; but he never allowed himself to be duped by 
 artifices and the wiles of adventurers. 
 
 In short, though my uncle had never chosen any 
 vocation in life, though he had been neither physi- 
 cian, lawyer, engineer, soldier, diplomat, nor even 
 minister, he did his duty in life in perpetuating 
 sound traditions, in respecting what was worthy of 
 respect, in not allowing himself to be carried away 
 by the " isms " of the day, and in using his influence 
 in the direction of what is good and right, in a 
 word, my uncle was a man of intelligence, a man of 
 heart, a good man. I loved him dearly; and if he 
 had never talked politics, I should have thought that 
 he had not a fault. In his private life he was ami- 
 able. He adored his daughter, and very soon gave 
 me a great share of his affection.
 
 160 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "What frightful things governments are!" I said 
 to Monsieur de Conprat. "They ought to be sup- 
 pressed ; then we should hear no more politics. Two 
 things to suppress, the piano and politics." 
 
 " Ma foi! I am rather of your opinion," he an- 
 swered, laughing. 
 
 "Ah! you do not like the piano? But you lis- 
 ten to Blanche rapturously; at least, you have that 
 appearance." 
 
 "It is because my Cousin Blanche has a real talent." 
 
 This explanation gave me that enervating sensa- 
 tion caused by mosquitoes who sing about a sleeper; 
 they annoy him without entirely spoiling his sleep. 
 The explanation was plainly unplausible, because not- 
 withstanding Juno's talent, I, who did not like the 
 piano, had always a desire to scream or to run away 
 when she played Mozart's or Beethoven's sonatas. 
 They are men, these two, who can boast of having 
 bored humanity! I am heart-broken when I think 
 of their wives! 
 
 In the midst of this peaceful life, of my hopes and 
 my little inquietudes, which vanished before a kind 
 word, and the distractions of a way of living so new 
 to me, we reached the end of September. My uncle, 
 with the funereal face of a man being led to the 
 scaffold, made ready to escort us to the balls an- 
 nounced by Monsieur de Conprat.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I CAN answer for my not having exercised my 
 powers of observation at all at my first ball. Of 
 that evening I recall only a delirious joy, and the 
 foolish things I said, because they cost me a sharp 
 reprimand the next day. 
 
 From time to time Juno tapped me on the arm with 
 her fan, and whispered in my ear that I was behaving 
 ridiculously; but it was like beating the air, and I 
 flew off in the arms of my partners, thinking that if 
 the waltz is not allowed in heaven, it is hardly worth 
 while to go there. 
 
 Sometimes my cavalier tried to make a little 
 conversation. 
 
 "You have not lived in this part of the country 
 long, Mademoiselle ? "
 
 1 62 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "No, Monsieur; about six weeks. " 
 
 "Where did you live before you came to Pavol? " 
 
 "At Buisson, a frightful place, with a frightful 
 aunt, who is dead, Dieu merci!" 
 
 'In any case, your name is very well known, 
 Mademoiselle; there was a Chevalier de Lavalle shut 
 up at Mont St. Michel in 1423." 
 
 " Indeed ! What was he doing there, this chevalier? " 
 
 " Why, he defended the place when it was attacked 
 by the English." 
 
 " Instead of dancing? What a great simpleton ! " 
 
 " Is that your appreciation of your ancestors and of 
 heroism, Mademoiselle?" 
 
 "My ancestors! I never thought of them. As to 
 heroism, I have no opinion of that." 
 
 "What has it done to you, this poor heroism? " 
 
 "The Romans were heroic, it seems; and I detest 
 the Romans ! But let us waltz instead of talking. " 
 
 And I tired my partner out. 
 
 My happiness reached its height when, in that bril- 
 liantly lighted salon, under the eyes of the ladies en 
 grande toilette, in the midst of that world from which 
 I had been so far such a little time before, I danced 
 with Monsieur de Conprat. There was no doubt that 
 he danced better than any of the others. Although he 
 was large, and I was very small, his beautiful blond 
 mustache, twisted into a point, caressed my cheek 
 from time to time; and I had certain little tempta-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 163 
 
 tions of which I will not speak, for fear of scandaliz- 
 ing my neighbour. 
 
 Intoxicated with joy and the compliments which 
 buzzed around me, I said all the silly things imagi- 
 nable and unimaginable; but I made the conquest of all 
 the men, and was the despair of all the young girls. 
 
 The cotillon excited my wildest enthusiasm; and 
 when my uncle, who had the air of a martyr in his 
 corner, made us a sign that it was time to go, I 
 called out from one end of the salon to the other: 
 
 " Uncle, you shall not take me away except at the 
 point of the bayonet ! " 
 
 But I had to dispense with bayonets, and follow 
 Juno, who, beautiful and dignified as ever, made 
 haste to obey her father without considering my 
 protestations. 
 
 Having returned to my room, I undressed myself 
 calmly enough; but when in my nightdress and just 
 on the point of getting into bed, I was seized with an 
 irresistible craze. I caught up my bolster and began 
 to waltz with it, singing at the top of my lungs. 
 
 Juno, whose room was not far from mine, came in, 
 a little frightened. 
 
 " What are you doing, Reine ? " 
 
 "You see perfectly well. I am waltzing." 
 
 "Man Dieu! what a child you are! " 
 
 "My dear, if the world were wise, it would waltz 
 day and night."
 
 164 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Come, Reine, it is cold; you will be ill. Get 
 into bed, I beg." 
 
 I threw my bolster into a corner, and slipped be- 
 tween my sheets. Blanche seated herself on the bed, 
 and began a harangue. She tried to convince me 
 that self-control in every event of life is a great 
 accomplishment; that everything has a time and 
 place; that, after all, a bolster does not seem a very 
 charming partner, and 
 
 "As to that, I am of your opinion," I said, inter- 
 rupting her abruptly. " It is only dancers in flesh 
 and blood who amount to anything, and are agree- 
 able, especially when they have mustaches; blond 
 mustaches, for instance. A little mustache which 
 caresses the cheek while one is waltzing, ah! that 
 is truly deli " 
 
 On this I fell asleep, and did not wake up until 
 the next afternoon at three o'clock. 
 
 When I was dressed, Monsieur de Pavol asked me 
 to come to his study. I went at once on this invita- 
 tion, imagining that my uncle's brain was concocting 
 some lecture. From his solemn air I saw that my 
 surmises were correct; and as I always loved my ease 
 as much during lectures as in other circumstances 
 of life, I pushed forward an easy-chair, in which I 
 settled myself comfortably; I crossed my hands in 
 my lap, and closed my eyes in an attitude of pro- 
 found attention.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 165 
 
 At the end of two seconds, hearing nothing, I said : 
 
 "Very well, Uncle; go ahead." 
 
 "Have the kindness to sit up, Reine, and take a 
 more respectful position ! " 
 
 "But, Uncle," I said, opening my eyes in astonish- 
 ment, " I had no intention of being disrespectful ! I 
 took a receptive position, the better to listen to 
 you." 
 
 "My niece, you will drive me distracted!" 
 
 "It is very likely, Uncle," I answered quietly; 
 "my cure told me often that I nearly killed him." 
 
 "And do you really think that I wish to go to 
 the Devil because of a little girl who has been badly 
 brought up? " 
 
 "In the first place, Uncle, I hope you will never 
 go to the Devil, much as you love that personage; 
 secondly, I should be most unhappy to lose you, be- 
 cause I love you with all my heart." 
 
 "Hum! that is most delightful. Will you tell 
 me now why, after my lessons and my counsels, you 
 behaved so improperly last night?" 
 
 " Make your charges specific, Uncle. " 
 
 " That would take too long, because everything you 
 did was badly done; you had the air of a horse broken 
 loose. Among other blunders, when you saw Mon- 
 sieur de Conprat, you called him by his first name. 
 I was near you, and saw that your partner was 
 greatly astonished."
 
 1 66 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "I believe him capable of it. He had the air of 
 
 a goose! 
 
 " I am not a goose, Reine ; and I tell you that it 
 was not well-bred." 
 
 "But, Uncle, he is our cousin; we see him nearly 
 every day, Blanche and I ; we always call him Paul 
 when we speak of him, and even when we speak to 
 him." 
 
 "That is allowed in the intimacy of private life, 
 but not in the world, where every one is not supposed 
 to know relationships and connections. " 
 
 "So it is necessary to act in one way at home 
 and in another in the world?" 
 
 "That is what I am trying to tell you, my niece." 
 
 "It is hypocrisy, neither more nor less." 
 
 "In Heaven's name, be a hypocrite! I ask nothing 
 else. Next, it appears that you told five or six 
 young gentlemen that they were very delightful." 
 
 "It's perfectly true!" I cried, in an outburst of 
 sympathy for my partners. " So charming, so polite, 
 so attentive! Then I was confused as to my prom- 
 ises, and was afraid of vexing them." 
 
 " Meantime, you vex me greatly, Reine. It is now 
 seven weeks since Blanche and I began to try to make 
 you understand that it is good form to weigh your ac- 
 tions and the expression of your opinions; neverthe- 
 less, you seize every occasion to say or do some stupid 
 thing. You have intelligence; you are coquettish;
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 167 
 
 unhappily for me, you have a face ten times too pretty, 
 and " 
 
 "That is something like!" I interrupted delight- 
 edly. " How I love lectures ! " 
 
 "Reine, do not interrupt me; I am speaking 
 seriously." 
 
 " Come, Uncle, let us reason. The first time you 
 saw me you said, 'You are devilish pretty! ' 
 
 "Very well, my niece? " 
 
 "Very well, Uncle; you see clearly that one cannot 
 always repress a first impulse." 
 
 "It is possible; but you ought to try, and, above all, 
 to listen to me. Notwithstanding your extreme youth 
 and your slight figure, you have the air of a woman ; 
 try to have the dignity of one." 
 
 "The dignity!" I said, astonished. "What for?" 
 
 "How! What for?" 
 
 " I do not understand, Uncle. Would you preach 
 dignity to me when the government has so little? " 
 
 " I do not catch the connection. What is this new 
 freak?" 
 
 " But, Uncle, you assert that the government passes 
 its time in playing at rackets. For a government, 
 frankly, this is undignified. Why should private in- 
 dividuals be more dignified than ministers and 
 senators ? " 
 
 My uncle laughed. 
 
 "It is difficult to scold you, Reine; you slip through
 
 1 68 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 the fingers like an eel. But be that as it may, I as- 
 sure you that if you are not willing to listen to me, 
 you shall go no more into society." 
 
 "Oh, Uncle, if you did such a thing as that you 
 would deserve the tortures of the Inquisition!" 
 
 "The Inquisition being abolished, I shall not be 
 tortured. But you must obey me; be certain of that. 
 I do not wish my niece to acquire habits and manners 
 which, though endurable at her age, would later on 
 make her pass for hum!" 
 
 "For what, Uncle?" 
 
 Monsieur de Pavol had a violent fit of coughing. 
 
 " Hum ! for a woman brought up in the backwoods 
 or some such place." 
 
 "Such a description of me would not be so foolish. 
 Buisson and the backwoods are very much alike." 
 
 " In short, my niece, make up your mind that I am 
 speaking seriously. Go, and think it over." 
 
 This time I realized that I could not trifle with so 
 serious a reprimand. I shut myself up in my room, 
 where I sulked for twenty-eight and a half minutes, 
 during which time I felt springing up in my heart a 
 praiseworthy desire to make acquaintance with self 
 control.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 T LEARNED speedily that sometimes proverbs do 
 *- not belie their reputation for wisdom; that in 
 certain cases to will is to do; and that with a lit- 
 tle effort on my part, I was able to put in practice 
 my uncle's suggestions. I do not mean to say that 
 I committed no more blunders, oh, no, they still 
 came often enough, but I succeeded in becoming 
 more sedate and in acquiring comparatively quiet 
 ways. 
 
 In fact, though my uncle had reproved me, it was 
 rather, as he himself said, with an eye to the future, 
 for I found myself in a place where my words and 
 deeds were judged with the greatest indulgence, a 
 place full of courtesy, consideration, and kindly tradi- 
 tions, in which, without my suspecting it, I had a 
 goodly number of relatives and connections.
 
 i jo My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Thanks to my name, my beauty, and my dot, many 
 of my sins against the proprieties were forgiven me. 
 I was the spoiled child of the dowagers, who repeated 
 with delight stories of my grandparents, my great- 
 grandparents, and sundry ancestors whose doings 
 must have been remarkable to make these amiable 
 marquises speak of them with so much warmth. I 
 discovered with satisfaction that ancestors are of some 
 use in life, and that they hide with their dusty shields 
 the pertness and whims of youthful descendants who 
 have come out of the backwoods. 
 
 I was the spoiled child of prospective husbands, who 
 saw my dot shine in my beautiful eyes; the spoiled 
 child of my partners in the dance, because my coquetry 
 amused them ; and I confess very, very low, that I felt 
 a great delight in laying waste their hearts, and in 
 turning certain heads into weathercocks. 
 
 Oh, Coquetry, what a charm lies hidden in every 
 letter of thy name ! 
 
 The taste for it must have been inborn with me, 
 for after two or three evenings, I knew its details, 
 its shades, and its wiles. 
 
 I should like to be a preacher simply to preach 
 coquetry to my audience, and to refuse absolution to 
 my penitents so lacking in judgment as not to give 
 themselves up to this charming pastime. I should 
 not perhaps remain long in the bosom of the Church; 
 but in my brief career I think that I should make
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 171 
 
 some converts. I pity men who, thinking they know 
 everything, are ignorant of the choicest, the most 
 delicate of pleasures. In my eyes they lead the life 
 of a simpleton, or at best that of a pumpkin. 
 
 While I was all animation, and was overturning all 
 hearts, Blanche kept on her way, lovely and haughty, 
 too sure of her beauty to take any trouble, too digni- 
 fied to descend to the excitements and the wiles which 
 delighted me. 
 
 Nevertheless, when my first effervescence had sub- 
 sided, I was not long in noticing that Monsieur de 
 Conprat took a very long time to fall in love with me. 
 He saw me under all circumstances, in full dress, 
 in demi-toilette, coquettish, serious, sometimes melan- 
 choly, though rarely, I must confess; and notwith- 
 standing all these varied phases, which prevented an 
 attachment to me being monotonous, not only did he 
 not declare himself, but he seemed really to treat me 
 as a child. My cure's remark, "Make up your mind 
 that he takes you for a little girl of no consequence," 
 began to trouble me greatly. 
 
 In spite of my coquetry, my amusements, and my 
 numberless distractions, my love had never changed 
 for an instant. No doubt the excitements of my life 
 prevented my thinking of it constantly, and that ex- 
 plains my long blindness; but I never expected to 
 find a man more charming than Paul de Conprat. And 
 yet, in the court which pressed about me, there were
 
 172 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 many suitors who actually resembled the heroes of 
 Walter Scott whom I had so greatly admired. I often 
 asked myself how my stout hero, with his cheerful 
 face and his wonderful appetite, had been able to 
 affect me so astonishingly when I was under the in- 
 fluence of imaginary personages so little like him. 
 This is a psychological subject which I shall leave 
 to the consideration of philosophers, for, as to my- 
 self, I have no time to stop; I state the fact, I make 
 my bow to philosophy, and I pass on. 
 
 The 25th of October we had our last dance, in a 
 chateau situated near Pavol. I put on a light blue 
 dress with ornaments in my black hair, which was 
 coquettishly arranged. I was particularly pretty, and 
 that night I had a wild success, a success so 
 assured that during the following week five offers of 
 marriage were made to my uncle for me; but I was 
 restless, feverish, uneasy, and, contrary to my custom, 
 did not enjoy the infatuation caused by my beauty. 
 
 I awaited Monsieur de Conprat impatiently in order 
 to watch him with my own eyes, which were beginning 
 to be opened. He generally came very late with three 
 or four young men, composing the smart set of the 
 neighbourhood. These gentlemen, being blast? from 
 their earliest youth, and finding it extremely fatigu- 
 ing, laborious, and heart-rending to dance with pretty 
 women, secured a few partners with a bored, noncha- 
 lant and almost impertinent air, except Paul de Con-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 175 
 
 prat, who was too good and too natural not to dance 
 with the satisfaction which the circumstances called 
 for. Sometimes, I must say, my enthusiasm dispelled 
 the ennui of these unfortunate victims of experience, 
 as a warm sun dissipates a light mist. I knew so well 
 how to rouse them, to raise their spirits, to make them 
 veer with every breath of my caprice, that my uncle 
 said, "The deuce is in her!" 
 
 Evil to him who evil thinketh. 
 
 I noticed with vexation that Paul waltzed with 
 Blanche often, while he seldom asked me, and then 
 without ceremony or eagerness. I redoubled my 
 coquetry to attract his attention, but what difference 
 did it make to him? His thoughts and his heart 
 were far from me; and I took refuge in a distant 
 corner, refusing positively to dance. 
 
 For a few seconds I hid myself in the curtains 
 which separated the large salon from a boudoir where 
 a number of ladies were sitting; and there I overheard 
 the conversation of two excellent dowagers of whom 
 I had made a conquest. 
 
 "Reine is delightful this evening; she is the great- 
 est success, as she always is." 
 
 " Blanche de Pavol is more beautiful, though. " 
 
 "Yes; but she has less charm. She is a haughty 
 queen, and Mademoiselle de Lavalle the adorable 
 little princess of fairy stories." 
 
 "Princess is the right word for her; she comes of
 
 176 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 a family of princes, and what would shock one in 
 others is charming in her." 
 
 "They say that the marriage of her cousin with 
 Monsieur de Conprat is arranged." 
 
 " I have heard so. " 
 
 For some seconds, orchestra, dowagers, waltzers, 
 executed before me a dance without name; and to 
 escape falling I clung to the hangings in which I 
 was shrouded. 
 
 When I recovered from my shock, the brilliant 
 salon seemed to me hung with thick crepe. To 
 Juno's great surprise I begged her to go home at 
 once, without waiting for the cotillon. 
 
 As we returned to Pavol, I kept saying to myself, 
 " It is not true ; I am sure that it is not true ! Why 
 should I take it so much to heart ? " 
 
 But I undressed myself in tears, with the feeling 
 that a great trouble was^ coming upon me. 
 
 Still, as nothing is more variable than one's spirits 
 at sixteen, the next day I began to hope again, and to 
 consider the talk of these ladies as idle gossip. I re- 
 solved to watch Monsieur de Conprat ; and I was in a 
 condition of mind in which the slightest sign would 
 substantiate my suspicions, though they were past and 
 fleeting. 
 
 In the afternoon of this ill-omened day we were all 
 in the salon. The commandant and my uncle were 
 having a. game of chess. Blanche was playing a
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 177 
 
 sonata of Beethoven; and I, stretched in a chair, 
 watched, under my half-closed eyelids, the attitude 
 and expression of Paul de Conprat. Seated near the 
 piano, a little behind Juno, he listened with a seri- 
 ous air, without taking his eyes off her. I knew 
 that this serious expression was unnatural, and showed 
 that he was bored. I was confirmed in my opinion 
 by noticing that he tried to suppress certain little 
 unseasonable yawns. It was then that I suddenly 
 recalled my own pleasure when he played dance 
 music. I realized that I did not love the airs, but 
 the player, and that he had precisely the same feel- 
 ing. He did not care for Beethoven, but he was in 
 love with Blanche, and things personally uncongenial 
 pleased him in the woman he loved. 
 
 Juno finished her frightful sonata; and Paul said 
 to her with an enthusiasm of which I knew the hid- 
 den motive, 
 
 "What a master Beethoven was! You interpret 
 him perfectly, Cousin." 
 
 "You yawned!" I cried, springing to my feet so 
 suddenly that the chess-players gave a tremendous 
 growl. 
 
 " I thought you were asleep, Reine ! " 
 
 " No, I was not asleep ; and I say that Paul yawned 
 while you were playing your wretched Beethoven." 
 
 "Reine dislikes music so much," said my uncle, 
 "that she ascribes to others her own feelings." 
 
 12
 
 178 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Yes, yes! My feelings have made me a charm- 
 ing discovery," I answered in a trembling voice. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Reine ? You are out of 
 humour because you did not sleep enough last night." 
 
 " I am not out of humour, Juno, but I detest hypoc- 
 risy; and I repeat, maintain, and will maintain to the 
 very death that Paul yawned, and yawned a second 
 time." 
 
 After this outburst I fled with the calm of a whirl- 
 wind, leaving the occupants of the salon plunged in 
 astonishment. 
 
 I shut myself up in my room, and paced back and 
 forth, cursing my blindness and thumping myself on 
 my head with my fist, after the fashion of Perrine 
 when she was perplexed; but thumping the head 
 with the fist, aside from its disturbing the brain, has 
 never been of use as a remedy for unhappy love, and 
 absolutely discouraged, I fell into an easy-chair, 
 where I remained a long time, thoroughly chilled 
 and miserable. 
 
 As in all cases of this sort, I recalled words and 
 occurrences which I said to myself ought to have 
 enlightened me times without number. My chief 
 feeling, among many other very confused ones, was 
 that of intense anger; and my pride awaking, great 
 and sore, made me swear that no one should per- 
 ceive my trouble. I was sincere in this, and firmly 
 believed that it would be easy tor me to dissemble
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 179 
 
 my feelings, although I had been accustomed to hurl 
 them at people's heads. 
 
 I was passing through one of those moments of 
 irritation when the most placid individual feels a vio- 
 lent desire to strangle some one or to break some- 
 thing. The nerves, which cannot be relieved by 
 tears, feel the need of some relaxation; and I seized 
 my little terra-cotta men, whose grimaces and smiles 
 seemed to me all at once odious and ridiculous. I 
 hurled them straightway through the window, experi- 
 encing a bitter pleasure in hearing them break on the 
 gravel of the walk. 
 
 But my uncle, who was passing, received one on his 
 venerable head, happily protected by a hat, and find- 
 ing the performance outside all the laws of etiquette, 
 uttered an expressive exclamation, 
 
 "What devil's play are you at there, my niece? " 
 " I am throwing my little men out of the window, 
 Uncle," I answered, approaching the casement, from 
 which I had kept at some distance in order to hurl 
 my projectiles with more force. 
 
 " Is that a reason for breaking my head ? " 
 "A thousand pardons, Uncle; I did not see you." 
 "Have you suddenly gone crazy, my niece? Why 
 do you break all your bibelots?" 1 
 
 "They set my teeth on edge, Uncle; they put me 
 out of patience; they make me nervous! There, 
 that's the last of them!"
 
 i8o My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 I hurled five at the same time, and closing the 
 window abruptly, left Monsieur de Pavol to storm 
 against nieces, their whims, and his disordered walk. 
 
 That night he lectured me, but I heard absolutely 
 unmoved that miserable lecture, which, in the midst 
 of my serious anxieties, produced no more effect than 
 a soap-bubble breaking on my head. 
 
 After dinner I went to look at my little terra-cotta 
 men, which were lying piteously on the walk. Broken! 
 pulverized! exactly like my illusions and my happi- 
 ness, which I believed lost forever.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1\ /T Y lack of perspicacity may perhaps seem aston- 
 ^'^ ishing; but who is there, who, without the 
 excuse of my sixteen years, has not given, at some 
 time in his life, proofs of the most inconceivable 
 blindness? I should like to know if there exists a 
 man who does not consider himself a fool for not 
 having seen a thing for a long time, although it was 
 plainly visible. Ah, it is easy to talk of clear- 
 sightedness, and as easy to show it, when a thing is 
 under one's 
 
 It was a veritable torture now for me to watch 
 Monsieur de Conprat, to note all the delicate atten- 
 tions he showed Blanche, knowing perfectly what was 
 the hidden motive. How I wept in secret! But 
 never, I believe, did I feel any great jealousy of
 
 1 82 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Blanche. Man Dicu, no! I was a little thing who 
 loved sincerely and deeply ; there was not the shadow 
 of bitterness in my love. I was, however, in a con- 
 stant irritation at Monsieur de Conprat. He was the 
 scapegoat upon whom I vented my ill-humour, my 
 heart-ache, and my bitterness ; as a matter of course, 
 I never stopped teasing him and saying tart things. 
 Then I would take refuge in my room, where I would 
 stride to and fro, saying to myself, - 
 
 "What an intelligent thing it is to fall in love with 
 a woman whose character is so little like your own! 
 He so gay, so talkative, as talkative as I am, 
 really! and she sedate, silent, a worshipper of eti- 
 quette, while he is sometimes bored by it, I see it 
 clearly. We are so alike! Why has he not seen 
 it? But Blanche is as good as she is beautiful; he 
 has known her a long time; and, after all, love is 
 not its own master 
 
 But these excellent reasons did not console me in 
 the least. I went to bed sobbing, and even sometimes 
 sobbed in the night; and notwithstanding my firm 
 resolve to hide my feelings, by the end of a fortnight 
 the family and habitues of Pavol were astonished at 
 my strange caprices. 
 
 In the morning I would be light-hearted almost to 
 laughter; in the evening I would take my place at 
 the table with a sombre mien, and would not open 
 my lips during the meal.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 183 
 
 This silence, so contrary to my habits, disquieted 
 Monsieur de Pavol greatly. 
 
 "What is passing through your little brain, Reine? " 
 
 "Nothing, Uncle." 
 
 "Are you bored? Would you like to travel? " 
 
 " Oh, no, no, Uncle ! I should be very sorry to 
 leave Pavol." 
 
 " If you still wish to marry, my niece, you are free 
 to do so. I am not a tyrant. Do you regret the 
 refusals to the proposals which have been following 
 one another for some time?" 
 
 "No, Uncle; I have given up my idea. I do not 
 wish to marry." 
 
 These unhappy proposals added to my troubles. I 
 could not hear of marriage without wanting to weep. 
 Though Monsieur de Pavol did not urge me to 
 accept, he made me see the advantages of each offer, 
 and insisted mildly that I should at least make the 
 acquaintance of my suitors. He would even have 
 easily enough passed them as "extraordinary cases; " 
 and among the numberless discoveries which I was 
 making every day, my uncle's inconsistency was not 
 the least astonishing. At the bottom of his heart 
 I believe that he was a little frightened at the charge 
 of a soul, which had fallen upon him. But he left 
 me entirely free, and was satisfied with my reasons 
 for refusing certain offers, although they had neither 
 head nor tail.
 
 184 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " Why did you say so often that you were eager to 
 marry, Reine ? " Blanche asked me. 
 
 " I will not marry until I have found what I wish." 
 
 " Ah ! and what do you wish ? " 
 
 "I do not know yet," I answered chokingly. 
 
 Blanche took my face in her two hands and looked 
 at me closely. 
 
 "I would like to read your thoughts, little Reine. 
 Do you love any one? Is it Paul?" 
 
 "I swear that it is not," I said, escaping from her 
 embrace. " I do not love any one, and when I do, 
 you shall know it at once." 
 
 If death were not such a frightful thing, I am sure 
 that one could have killed me then before I would 
 have acknowledged my love for a man who loved an- 
 other woman, and this woman my cousin. Happily it 
 was a question of neither the stake nor the guillotine, 
 the sight of which would probably have destroyed my 
 stoicism. 
 
 " I am doing as you are doing, Blanche, I am 
 waiting." 
 
 " I am not the same success as my little savage from 
 Buisson," she said, smiling. " Five proposals at once ! " 
 
 "Don't speak to me of it any more, I beg; it tires 
 me, bores me, and wears me out." 
 
 Unhappily a sixteenth suitor, uniting in himself 
 qualities the most rare, the most extraordinary, the 
 most perfect, placed himself all at once in the ranks
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 187 
 
 of my adorers. Alas! I reaped what I had sown, be- 
 cause on entering society I had taken pains to say to 
 every one that I meant to marry as soon as possible. 
 
 My uncle summoned me, and we had a long talk 
 together. 
 
 " Reine, Monsieur Le Maltour desires the honour of 
 marrying you." 
 
 " Great good may it do him, Uncle ! " 
 
 " Does he please you ? " 
 
 " Not at all ! " 
 
 "Why not? Give me some reasons, good reasons; 
 those the other day, for the offers you refused off- 
 hand, were worth nothing." 
 
 "Your suitors were not presentable, Uncle." 
 
 " Let us see: Monsieur de P was excellent." 
 
 " Oh, a man of thirty ! Why not a patriarch ? " 
 
 "And Monsieur C ? " 
 
 "A frightful name, Uncle!" 
 
 "Monsieur de N , a young fellow of excellent 
 
 parts and very intelligent?" 
 
 " I counted his hairs. He had not over fourteen ; 
 and he only twenty-six years old." 
 
 "Ah! and little D ?" 
 
 " I do not like dark men. Besides, he is a perfect 
 nonentity. Once married, he would adore his figure, 
 his cravats, and my dot, that's all!" 
 
 "I give you up; but to come back to the Baron 
 Le Maltour, what do you object to in him?"
 
 1 88 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "A man who only danced square dances with me 
 because I did not waltz d trois temps!" I cried with, 
 indignation. 
 
 "A real grievance! Reine, I repeat that I think 
 it absurd to marry so young; but notwithstanding 
 your dot and your beauty, perhaps you will never 
 again have an offer like this. He is a thorough 
 gentleman, and I have the best reports as to his 
 morals and his character; he has an immense for- 
 tune, a title; his family is honourable and very 
 ancient." 
 
 "Ah, yes; ancestors! that is what Blanche said," I 
 interrupted disdainfully. " I have a horror of ances- 
 tors, Uncle." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "People whose only idea was to fight and get their 
 heads broken. What idiocy!" 
 
 "Very well! I know that the registrar of the 
 
 court at V thmks you charming. He has no 
 
 ancestors; would you like him to be told that for 
 that reason Mademoiselle de Lavalle is disposed to 
 marry him? " 
 
 "Do not laugh at me, Uncle; you know perfectly 
 well that I am patrician to my finger-tips," I an- 
 swered, seizing the occasion to admire my hand and 
 the ends of my taper fingers. 
 
 "That is what I thought, if your appearance did 
 not deceive me. Now, my niece, listen to me. You
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 189 
 
 do not know Monsieur Le Maltour well enough to 
 form an opinion of him; and I must insist on your 
 seeing him a number of times before giving a final 
 answer. I am going to write Madame Le Maltour 
 that the decision rests with you, and that I authorize 
 her son to present himself at Pavol whenever it shall 
 seem good to him." 
 
 "Very well, Uncle; it shall be as you wish." 
 
 Five minutes after, I was wandering in the wood, 
 a prey to the most violent agitation. 
 
 "Ah, that is it!" I said, biting my handkerchief 
 to stop my sobs; "he shall have a pleasant reception, 
 this Maltour. I will give him four days to vanish out 
 of my life. And my uncle, who sees nothing, who 
 understands nothing ! " 
 
 I was mistaken. My uncle, notwithstanding my 
 sudden attempts at dissembling, saw very clearly, but 
 he acted wisely. He could not prevent Monsieur de 
 Conprat from loving his daughter, and abandon the 
 dream in which he and the commandant had indulged 
 so long. Besides, thoroughly convinced that my feel- 
 ing had little depth, and that there was much of 
 child's play in it, he fancied that the best way to 
 cure this caprice was to turn my thoughts toward a 
 man who, in loving me, would make me love him, 
 according to the axiom, Love begets love. 
 
 His reasoning would have been perfect had he not 
 been mistaken in his premises.
 
 190 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Two days later Madame Le Maltour and her son 
 arrived at Pavol, smiles on their lips and hope in 
 their glances. The excellent lady said a hundred 
 amiable things to me, to which I responded with a 
 Jesuitical scowl. 
 
 The baron was a good soul allow me, I do not 
 mean to say by that, that he was stupid, not at all. 
 He was intellectual and witty; but he was only 
 twenty-three years old. He was bashful and very 
 much in love, a final peculiarity which did not 
 unlock his wits, but which it would be bad taste in 
 me to reproach him with. 
 
 The next day he came to see us without his mother, 
 and made an effort to talk to me. 
 
 "Are you sorry that there are no more balls, 
 Mademoiselle? " 
 
 "Yes," answered I, in a tone as supercilious as that 
 of Suzon. 
 
 "Did you have a good time the other day, at 
 the s' ? " 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 "It was brilliant, though. What a pretty dress 
 you wore ! Do you like blue ? " 
 
 "Evidently, since I wore it." 
 
 Monsieur Le Maltour coughed discreetly, to keep 
 up his courage. 
 
 " Are you fond of travel, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 "No."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 191 
 
 "You surprise me; I should have thought you loved 
 adventure and change of scene. " 
 
 " How silly ! I am afraid of everything." 
 
 The conversation went on for some time in this 
 fashion. Disconcerted by my curtness and the in- 
 terest with which, in the most impertinent way in 
 the world, I watched the performances of a fly who 
 was walking on the arm of my chair, the baron rose, 
 a trifle red, and cut short his visit. 
 
 My uncle escorted him to the garden gate, and 
 came back in a rage to find me. 
 
 "This cannot go on, Reine! You are rude to me 
 as well as to this poor fellow, who is bashful, and 
 whom you disconcert absolutely. Monsieur Le Mai- 
 tour is not a man to be treated like a puppet, my 
 niece. No one will oblige you to marry him, but I 
 wish you to be polite and amiable. Heaven knows 
 you have a glib tongue when you wish ! Try to have 
 it to-morrow. Monsieur Le Maltour will breakfast 
 here." 
 
 "Very good, Uncle; I will talk, have no fear." 
 
 "Don't talk foolishly either." 
 
 "I will get my inspiration from science, Uncle," I 
 answered majestically. 
 
 "How? From " 
 
 "Do not worry; I will do as you wish, I will 
 talk without stopping." 
 
 "That is not the point, my niece
 
 192 My Uncle and My Cure, 
 
 But I left my uncle to confide his thought to 
 the furniture of the salon, and ran into the library to 
 find what was necessary to carry out the idea which 
 had come into my head. I took away with me Male- 
 branche's Philosophy, and a work on Tartary. 
 
 Malebranche nearly produced a delirium; and I 
 abandoned him to devote myself to Tartary, which 
 had more to offer me. I studied some pages hard 
 until midnight, grumbling at and anathematizing the 
 inhabitants of Bokhara, who wore such strange names. 
 I succeeded, however, in mastering some details about 
 the country and many strange words of the signifi- 
 cance of which I was entirely ignorant. I went to 
 bed, rubbing my hands. 
 
 "We shall see," I said to myself, "if Le Maltour 
 will withstand this experience. Ah, my worthy uncle, 
 I will get the best of him, be sure of that ; and in 
 a few hours I shall be rid of this intruder." 
 
 The next day he presented himself with the pleas- 
 ing and awkward air of a man who is treading on 
 needles; but I received him so graciously that he 
 was soon at his ease, and Monsieur de Pavol's anxiety 
 disappeared. 
 
 The De Conprats and the cure breakfasted with 
 us. It made my heart ache to watch Paul talking 
 gayly with Blanche, while I was condemned to un- 
 dergo the bashful attentions of Monsieur Le Maltour, 
 whose fine figure wore on my nerves.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 195 
 
 "I have changed my opinion since yesterday," I 
 said to him suddenly. " I am very fond of travel. " 
 
 " I share your taste, Mademoiselle ; it is the most 
 intellectual of pleasures." 
 
 " You have travelled? " 
 
 "Yes, a little." 
 
 " Do you know the Ruddars, the Schakird-Pische, . 
 the Usbecs, the Tadjics, the Mollahs, the Dehbas- 
 chi, the Pendja-Baschi, the Alamanes?" I said, all 
 in a breath, confounding race, class, and rank. 
 
 "Who are all they?" demanded the astounded 
 baron. 
 
 "What! have you never been in Tartary? " 
 
 "No, never." 
 
 "Never been in Tartary!" I exclaimed scornfully. 
 "At least you know Nasr-Oullah-Bahadin-Khan-Melic- 
 el-Mounemin-Bird-Blac-Bloc and the Devil?" 
 
 I added some syllables at my own pleasure to the 
 name of Nasr-Oullah, to produce more effect, believ- 
 ing that the spirit of this worthy man would not rise 
 from the tomb to reproach me. 
 
 My uncle and his guests bit their lips to keep from 
 laughing. 
 
 Monsieur Le Maltour looked really frightened ; and 
 Blanche cried, - 
 
 "Are you crazy, Reine? " 
 
 "No, not in the least! I was asking Monsieur 
 whether he shared my liking for Nasr-Oullah, a
 
 196 My Uncle and My Cure, 
 
 man who, it appears, had all the vices. He passed 
 his time in cutting his fellow-creatures' throats, in 
 throwing ambassadors into dungeons where he left 
 them to rot; in short, he was endowed with energy, 
 and was never timid, a horrible fault, in my 
 opinion. And his country! What a lovely country! 
 All diseases raged there; and there is where I should 
 send my husband. Consumption, small-pox, vomit- 
 ings that last six months, ulcers, leprosy, a worm 
 called rischta, which gnaws you; to get rid of it, 
 one 
 
 " Enough, Reine, enough ; let us breakfast in peace. " 
 
 "What would you have, Uncle? I find myself 
 drawn to Tartary. And you?" I said to Monsieur 
 Le Maltour. 
 
 "What you say is indeed not very encouraging, 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 "For those who have no blood in their veins," I 
 answered scornfully. "When I am married, I shall 
 go to Tartary." 
 
 " Dieu merci! you will not be your own master, my 
 niece." 
 
 "Be very sure that I will, Uncle. I shall always 
 go to my own head, and not mind my husband. For 
 that matter, I will take him to Bokhara to be eaten 
 by worms." 
 
 "How! to be eaten by " murmured the baron, 
 timidly.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 197 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; you have heard correctly. I said 
 'eaten by worms,' because in my eyes the most 
 charming position in life is that of a widow!" 
 
 High and puissant Baron Le Maltour, though of a 
 gallant race, could not resist this. Realizing the 
 hidden meaning in my tartaric caprices, he departed 
 and did not return. 
 
 My uncle was angry, but I did not trouble myself 
 in the least. I pirouetted, and said to him in a 
 sententious tone, - 
 
 "Uncle, who wishes an end, contrives the means."
 
 *T\ \ ay ** ' ^-^ 
 
 aw uvoii; '^~~^"^ J " 
 
 N 
 
 - <ir. .,.**? 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 T HAD kept my promise to the cure", and had writ- 
 -^ ten him very regularly twice a week. The hab- 
 it seemed so sweet and consoling to him that 
 when all at once I interrupted the regularity of my 
 correspondence, he was plunged in grief and anxiety. 
 Absorbed in my troubles, I remained a fortnight 
 without giving a sign of life; then, yielding to his 
 urgent entreaties, I sent him letters like this: 
 
 " Man is a stupid creature, Monsieur le Cure, I am getting 
 to find that out. What is your opinion, my cure ? I embrace 
 you, in defiance of all the proprieties." 
 
 Or,- 
 
 "Ah, my poor cur, I am afraid I have discovered the 
 source of the cold water of which we were talking three 
 months ago. Happiness does not exist ; it is a lure, a myth, 
 anything you will, except reality. 
 
 " Adieu ; if death did not make us so ugly, I should be 
 glad to die. To die, yes, my cure, you have read it aright."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 199 
 
 He sent me letter after letter. 
 
 DEAR DAUGHTER, What does the tone of your last notes 
 mean? Three weeks ago you seemed so happy in the joy 
 and pride of your social success. No, no, little Reine ; happi- 
 ness is not a myth, it shall be yours. But at the moment 
 imagination has possession of you, carries you away, and hin- 
 ders you from seeing accurately. You have not followed my 
 advice, Reine ; you have made too great bonfires, have you 
 not? Poor little child, come to see me, and we will talk 
 over together what is in your mind. 
 
 I replied to him, 
 
 MONSIEUR LE CURE, Imagination is a fool ; life is a thing of 
 shreds and patches, and the world an old rag, dazzling enough 
 when seen from afar, but good only at best to hang in a 
 cherry-tree to frighten the birds. I should like to enter La 
 Trappe, my dear cure ! If I were sure that I should be 
 allowed to waltz from time to time with charming men such 
 as I know, I should certainly take refuge there and bury my 
 youth and beauty; but I believe that kind of amusement is 
 not allowed under the rules. Advise me on this point, Mon- 
 sieur le Cure", and make up your mind that you are simply an 
 optimist in pretending that happiness is real and will fall to 
 my lot. You lead the life of a rat in a cheese. I do not mean 
 that you are selfish; but you do not know the catastrophes 
 that can overtake those who live in the world. I have no 
 more illusions, my cure". I am a little old woman, stunted, 
 shrunken, and shrivelled, mentally, I mean, because I am 
 prettier than ever, a little old woman, who no longer believes 
 in anything or hopes for anything, and who says to herself that
 
 2OO My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 the world is very stupid to go on with its revolutions when her 
 joys and dreams are dissipated, pulverized, and reduced to 
 imperceptible atoms. My inner man, if one could strip off its 
 carnal covering, which deceives the observer's eye, I admit, 
 my inner man, I say, is nothing but a skeleton, a dead tree, 
 completely dead, without sap, and leafless, and holding toward 
 heaven its great rigid, emaciated arms. Can the mind de- 
 stroy the body, Monsieur le Cure 1 ? I tremble at the thought. 
 To have no illusions left at sixteen, is not that terrible ? 
 Au revoir, my old cure. 
 
 Two days after sending this letter, which ought 
 to have given the cur6 a sufficiently melancholy idea 
 of my state of mind, my uncle decided that we should 
 go to spend an afternoon at Mont St. Michel. That 
 day there was something sinister in the air; I felt it. 
 The night before, the commandant and Monsieur 
 de Pavol had had a long and private interview. 
 Paul seemed uneasy and nervous, and my cousin 
 thoughtful. 
 
 My uncle and Juno, who were devoted to Mont 
 St. Michel, did me the honours of the place with 
 complacence; but architecture interested me very 
 little, and besides, I saw everything through the dark 
 veil of a perfectly killing temper. 
 
 " How tiring it is to climb all these steps ! " I said, 
 whining at each one. 
 
 " More than six hundred to scale to reach the top, 
 my cousin."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 201 
 
 "I want to stop, then." 
 
 "Come, my niece, what the deuce, you haven't 
 the gout ? " 
 
 And as he climbed the steps trodden by so many 
 generations, my uncle recited to me the history of 
 the mount and the incident of Montgomery. 
 
 But how did it concern me, this Montgomery, these 
 ramparts, this marvellous abbey, these mighty halls, 
 these numberless souvenirs which have slept there for 
 centuries? I should have taken good care not to 
 awaken them, for I was a hundred times more inter- 
 ested in watching the face of the big fellow who was 
 so attentive and so thoughtful for Blanche, and never 
 considered me at all. 
 
 What a fool I was not to have seen his love sooner! 
 He went into ecstasies over the smallest stone to 
 please her; and from time to time I cast some 
 black looks at him, which he did not even deign to 
 notice. 
 
 " Ah, here we are in the salle des chevaliers. Come, 
 Reine, what have you to say to this ? " 
 
 "I say, Uncle, that if the chevaliers were here, 
 the hall would be charming." 
 
 "You don't find it so in itself? " 
 
 "Not in the least. I see huge fireplaces and col- 
 umns with little designs carved at top; but without 
 the chevaliers whose heads one might perhaps turn 
 a little pooh! it all amounts to nothing."
 
 2O2 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "I had never thought of that way of looking at 
 feudal architecture," answered my uncle, laughing. 
 
 We went through dark passages which frightened 
 me. 
 
 "We are going to break our necks," I groaned, 
 clinging tightly to the commandant's arm, while Paul 
 offered his to Blanche. 
 
 "You are in trouble, little Reine?" said the com- 
 mandant to me, in a very low tone. 
 
 "You speak like my cure," I answered, greatly 
 moved. 
 
 " Come, do you want to confide in me ? " 
 
 "I have no trouble," I answered chokingly, "and 
 I have no confidence in any one. Suzon told me 
 that men were good for nothing, and I am of Suzon 's 
 opinion! " 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " said the commandant, watching me with 
 so kindly an air that I was afraid of breaking into ' 
 sobs ; " such misanthropy in one so young ! " 
 
 I did not answer; and as we were reaching a sort 
 of long terrace, I made my escape and ran to hide 
 behind an enormous row of columns. I leaned my 
 head on one of the stones, many hundreds of years 
 old, and wept. 
 
 "Ah," I thought, " how right my cure was in tell- 
 ing me a long time, a very long time, ago, that one 
 does not argue with life, one submits. All my logic 
 is good for nothing under these circumstances. How
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 203 
 
 miserable it is, mon Dicu! how miserable it is to see 
 one's self treated as a little girl of no consequence! " 
 
 And through my tears I looked at those famous 
 sands, which seemed to me dreary, at the pile whose 
 height oppressed and made me dizzy; but without 
 knowing why, I felt a kind of relief in that strange 
 affinity of Nature, which seemed sad in accord with 
 my own feelings, and in the contemplation of those 
 great walls which threw their melancholy shadows 
 across the earth and the past. 
 
 When we were in the train on our way home, my 
 uncle said to me, 
 
 "Well, Reine, taken all together, what is your feel- 
 ing about Mont St. Michel?" 
 
 " I think, Uncle, that one would die of fear there, 
 and would catch the rheumatism." 
 
 As we drove along the route which led from the 
 
 station at V to Pavol, I reflected that few things 
 
 are stable here below. It was hardly three months 
 since I passed over the same road, full of happy 
 dreams, in an intoxication of joyous thoughts about 
 that future which I believed so beautiful, and now 
 the way seemed strewn with the debris of my 
 happiness. 
 
 It was quite late when we reached the chateau; 
 nevertheless, my uncle took Blanche into his study, 
 saying that he wished that very evening to have a 
 serious talk with her.
 
 2O4 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 I went to bed weeping with all my heart, and with 
 the conviction that the sword of Damocles was hang- 
 ing over my head. 
 
 For a long time Juno had been very friendly with 
 me. Every morning she would come and sit on my 
 bed, and we would talk indefinitely. The next day 
 about seven o'clock she came into my room, with a 
 calm and tranquil step, and that charming smile which 
 transfigured her haughty face, and which perhaps I 
 alone knew well. 
 
 "Reine," she said to me suddenly, "Paul has pro- 
 posed for me." 
 
 The thread was broken, and the sword of Damocles 
 fell on my breast. How lacking in common-sense was 
 that king to hang so heavy a thing by a simple 
 thread! Does not history call it a hair? It is very 
 likely. 
 
 There is no doubt that I was expecting this revela- 
 tion; but so long as a fact is not proved and accom- 
 plished, where is the human being who does not 
 cherish a little hope at the bottom of her heart? I 
 became very pale, so pale that Blanche noticed it, 
 although the room was darkened. 
 
 "What is the matter, Reine? Are you ill? " 
 
 "A cramp," I murmured feebly. 
 
 "I will go and get the ether," she exclaimed, jump- 
 ing up quickly. 
 
 "No, no," I answered, making a violent effort to
 
 My Uncle and My Ciir'e. 205 
 
 recover my pride, which was vanishing into thin air; 
 "it is over, Blanche, entirely over." 
 
 "Have you had this trouble often, Reine? " 
 
 "No, only occasionally. It is nothing; don't say 
 anything more about it." 
 
 Blanche passed her hand across her forehead, like 
 one who tries to drive away an intrusive thought; 
 but I resumed the conversation in so steady a voice 
 that she seemed relieved of her anxiety. 
 
 "Well, Juno, what do you intend to do? " 
 
 "My father says the marriage would meet all his 
 views, Reine." 
 
 "Would you like it?" 
 
 "The marriage would suit me evidently; for all 
 considerations favour it; only I do not love Paul 
 except as a cousin." 
 
 "What fault do you find in him?" 
 
 "I find no fault, except that he does not please 
 me enough. He is a capital fellow, but I do not 
 love that kind of man. In the first place, he 
 is not handsome enough; then that abnormal appe- 
 tite of his is not poetical, you will agree to 
 that." 
 
 "But it is perfectly logical to eat when one is 
 hungry," I answered, keeping back my tears. 
 
 "What would you have? I think that we should 
 not get on well together. " 
 
 "Are you going to refuse him, then, Juno? "
 
 206 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 " I have asked a month to consider it, little Reine. 
 I am very perplexed, for I dread to disappoint my 
 father. Besides, from certain points of view the 
 match would be all I could wish; and lastly, the 
 man is thoroughly estimable." 
 
 "But if you do not love him, Blanche? " 
 
 "My father holds that I will love him later, and 
 for that matter that love, so called, is not necessary 
 for marriage and happiness in a home." 
 
 "How can you believe a thing like that?" I said, 
 springing up with indignation. " My uncle really has 
 abominable opinions!" 
 
 But Blanche answered tranquilly that her father 
 was full of good sense; that she had often noticed 
 that he was seldom deceived in his judgments, and 
 that she was disposed to listen to him. 
 
 "Does Paul love you very much, Juno?" I mur- 
 mured under my breath. 
 
 "Yes, and has for some time." 
 
 " Did you know it ? " 
 
 "Of course; a woman always knows such things. 
 And you, did you not see it?" 
 
 "Yes a little," I answered, sending a backward 
 glance full of melancholy at my stupidity. 
 
 Blanche left me after explaining that Paul had 
 delayed asking her hand because he was afraid of 
 being refused. 
 
 It was exactly as I thought; and I dressed my-
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 207 
 
 self feverishly, thinking that under her father's in- 
 fluence she would end by giving her consent. 
 
 In her place, I should have said yes in a second, 
 and a fortnight after I should have been married. 
 
 Alas! it was the end of my dreams;. and I fell into 
 a deep depression.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT was arranged that Paul should not come to 
 Pavol for some time, and though the thing 
 appeared to me incredible and unheard of, from the 
 day when she ceased to see him Blanche seemed as 
 if she had nearly made up her mind to marry him. 
 We talked of him together constantly; we even dis- 
 cussed wedding dresses; and I showed a stoic resig- 
 nation worthy of the men of antiquity. 
 
 But this resignation was only on the surface. 
 
 My despondency increased ; my eyes had black cir- 
 cles; and I had reached the point of saying to myself 
 that, life being insupportable away from the man I 
 loved, the simplest thing to do was to take my de- 
 parture to the other world. 
 
 This plan was obviously a very painful one, but I 
 clung to it eagerly. I thought over it ; I cherished it 
 with an almost morbid delight. Yet I swear on my
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 209 
 
 honour that I never had any idea of suffocating my- 
 self or of swallowing poison, methods of suicide so 
 dear to those of our clay. But having read, in I 
 do not know what book, that a young girl had died 
 of grief from an unhappy love-affair, I decided that 
 I would follow her example. 
 
 My course of action decided on, and my ill looks 
 confirming my lugubrious thoughts, I considered that 
 it was polite and proper to inform the cure, and that, 
 indeed, I could not die without pressing his hand. 
 
 This being determined on, I entered my uncle's 
 study one morning and begged him to let me go to 
 Buisson. 
 
 " It would be better to ask the cure to come here, 
 Reine. " 
 
 "He could not, Uncle; he never has a sou in his 
 pocket. " 
 
 "It will not be very enlivening for me to take you 
 there, my niece." 
 
 "Do not come, Uncle, I beg; you would be dread- 
 fully in the way. I want to go alone with the old 
 housekeeper, if you will let me." 
 
 " Do as you wish. My carriage shall take you to 
 C , where it will be easy to find some convey- 
 ance to carry you to Buisson. When shall you go ? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning, early, Uncle ; I want to sur- 
 prise the cure, and I will sleep at the presbytire. " 
 
 "Very well; so be it. I will send the carriage for 
 
 14
 
 2io My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 you in a couple of days ; be at C day after to- 
 morrow about three." 
 
 He watched me closely under his heavy eyebrows, 
 rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 
 
 "Are you ill, Reine? " 
 
 "No, Uncle." 
 
 "Little niece," he said, drawing me to him, "I have 
 almost come to hope that my plans shall not succeed. " 
 
 I looked at him, thoroughly astonished, because I 
 had always firmly believed that he had seen nothing. 
 
 I answered him very coolly that I did not know what 
 he meant ; that I was very happy, and that I would pray 
 that all his plans might succeed. He embraced me 
 affectionately, and dismissed me. 
 
 I set out, then, the next morning without Blanche, 
 who wished to go with me. 
 
 On the way I thought over my uncle's words. 
 
 "He knows all," I said to myself. " Mon Dicu! 
 how blind I was in my assumptions ! But even though 
 Juno's marriage should not take place, what differ- 
 ence could that make to me, since Paul is in love 
 with her? He could not love another person now. I 
 don't understand my uncle." 
 
 I did not believe now, any more than before, that 
 one could love several women. Judging from my 
 own feelings, I said to myself that a man could not 
 love twice in his life without presenting to the world 
 a most astonishing phenomenon.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 2 1 1 
 
 Having thus regulated the heart-throbs of bearded 
 humanity, my thoughts took another direction, and 
 I was filled with delight at the idea of seeing my 
 cure. I resolved to throw myself on his neck, were 
 it only to show my independence and my contempt 
 for conventionalities. 
 
 Having reached the presbytere, I entered, not by the 
 gate, but through a hole in the hedge which I had 
 known from time immemorial, and advanced on tip- 
 toe toward the window of the parlour, where the cure 
 ought to be just about breakfasting. The window was 
 very low; but I was so small that to look into the 
 room I had to climb on a log which had been rolled 
 against the wall for a seat. 
 
 I lifted my head cautiously through the ivy, which 
 made a leafy frame to the casement, and I saw my 
 cure. 
 
 He was at the table, and was eating dejectedly. 
 His cheeks had lost some of their colour and their 
 roundness; his thick white hair no longer stood on 
 end, as of old, but lay flat on his head in an inex- 
 pressibly melancholy fashion. 
 
 " Ah, my poor, good cure ! " 
 
 I leaped down from the log; I rushed into the 
 presbytere, losing my hat as I went, and burst into 
 the parlour like a bomb. 
 
 The cure" rose with a start. His kindly and good 
 face shone with joy on seeing me; and it was not to
 
 212 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 break the traditions of etiquette, but in an outburst 
 of genuine affection and of strong feeling, that I 
 threw myself into his arms and wept a long time on 
 his shoulder. I know perfectly that nothing in the 
 world is more contrary to etiquette than to weep 
 on the shoulder of a cure; that my uncle, Juno, and 
 all the dowagers of the land, in spite of my ancestors, 
 would have veiled their faces before a sight so scan- 
 dalous. But I had been too short a time at the 
 school of self-control to lose my spontaneity. Be- 
 sides, I am positive that only idiots and unnatural 
 and heartless people believe in never sacrificing the 
 proprieties to real and deep feeling. 
 
 "Life is an old rag, my cure, a miserable old 
 rag," I said, sobbing. 
 
 " Have we come to that, dear little daughter, have 
 we really come to that? No, no; it is not possible! " 
 
 And the poor cur6, who smiled and wept at the same 
 time, looked at me affectionately, stroked my head 
 with his hand, and spoke to me as to a little wounded 
 bird, whose broken wing he would have cured by ca- 
 resses and kind words. 
 
 "Come, Reine, come; calm yourself a little, my 
 dear child," he said, raising me gently. 
 
 "You are right," I answered, thrusting my hand- 
 kerchief into the bottom of my pocket. " For three 
 months I have had self-control preached to me; and 
 I have not profited in the least by the lessons, as
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 215 
 
 you see. Let us have something to eat, Monsieur 
 le Cure." 
 
 I took off my gloves and my cloak ; and in one of 
 those reversions of feeling to which I had been sub- 
 ject for some time, I began to laugh, and established 
 myself joyfully at the table. 
 
 "We will talk when we have eaten, my dear cure; 
 lam dead with hunger!" 
 
 "But I have almost nothing to give you." 
 
 " Here are beans, I adore beans! and home-made 
 bread, it's delicious!" 
 
 " But you did not come alone, Reine ? " 
 
 " Sure enough ; the housekeeper is still sitting in 
 the carriage behind the church. Send for her, Mon- 
 sieur le Cure, and tell them to pick up my hat, which 
 is walking about the garden." 
 
 The good cure" went to give the orders, and came 
 back and sat opposite me. While I ate with a capi- 
 tal appetite, notwithstanding my consumption and my 
 troubles, he forgot all about his breakfast, and watched 
 me with an admiration which he strove in vain to 
 hide. 
 
 "You find me prettier, do you not, Monsieur le 
 Cure?" 
 
 "Yes a little, Reine." 
 
 "Ah, my cure, if I were going to confess, what 
 great sins I should have to tell you of! They are no 
 longer the little sins of old, which you knew so well. "
 
 216 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 And without ceasing to eat, I told him of all my 
 vain delights, my impressions, my dresses, my new 
 ideas. He laughed, took snuff without stopping, with 
 his old jocund air, and looked at me without in the 
 least thinking of finding fault. 
 
 "Am I not on the road to perdition, Monsieur le 
 Cure?" 
 
 " I do not think so, my good little child. One must 
 be young when one is young." 
 
 " Young, my poor cure ! If you could see into the 
 bottom of my heart! I wrote you that I was nothing 
 but a skeleton, and it is really true." 
 
 "You do not look it, at all events." 
 
 "We will talk together in a moment, Monsieur le 
 Cure, and you will see ! " 
 
 When I had changed my seat, the servant cleared 
 the table, made a magnificent fire, and we took our 
 places, each in a chimney-corner. 
 
 "Come, Reine, let us talk seriously now. What 
 have you to tell me ? " 
 
 I stretched out my little foot to the blaze, and 
 answered quietly, 
 
 " My cure, I am dying ! " 
 
 The cure", a little startled, shut with a snap the 
 snuff-box, in which he was about to introduce the ends 
 of his fingers. 
 
 "You do not look it, my dear child." 
 
 "What! you have not noticed my heavy eyes, my 
 pale lips? "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 217 
 
 "Not at all, Reine; your lips are red, and your 
 face is blooming with health. But of what are you 
 dying?" 
 
 Before answering, I looked around me, reflecting 
 that I was going to pronounce a word which this 
 modest room had never heard uttered within its 
 wretched walls, a word so strange that the old 
 clock without a spring, which stood in a corner, and 
 the pious images fastened to the walls, would prob- 
 ably fall on my head in a transport of surprise and 
 indignation. 
 
 "Well, Reine?" 
 
 " Well, Monsieur le Cure 1 , I am dying of love ! " 
 
 The clock, the images, the furniture, preserved their 
 immobility; and the cure himself gave only a little 
 jump. 
 
 "I was sure of it," he said, running his hands 
 through his hair, which had resumed the bushy ways 
 of happy days, "I was sure of it. Your imagina- 
 tion has played tricks with you, Reine." 
 
 "It is not a question of the imagination, but of 
 the heart, Monsieur le Cure, for I am in love." 
 
 "Oh, so young! such a child!" 
 
 " Is that any reason ? I repeat that I am dying of 
 love for Monsieur de Conprat." 
 
 "Ah! it is he, then?" 
 
 "Do you take me for a rattlebrain, a thoughtless 
 creature, my cure?" I cried.
 
 218 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "But, little Reine, instead of dying, you would do 
 better to marry him." 
 
 " That would be logical, my dear cure", very logical, 
 but, unhappily. I do not please him." 
 
 This assertion seemed to him so extraordinary that 
 he remained petrified for some seconds. 
 
 "It cannot be possible," he exclaimed in a tone of 
 such conviction that I could not keep from laughing. 
 
 " Not only does he not love me, but he loves some 
 one else; he is infatuated with Blanche, and has pro- 
 posed for her." 
 
 I recounted what had been taking place for some 
 time at Pavol, my discoveries, my blindness, and 
 Juno's indecision. I finished the account with hot 
 tears, for my disappointment was very real. 
 
 The cure, who until then had not been able to 
 make up his mind to take my words and troubles 
 seriously, presented the picture of consternation. He 
 drew his chair near mine, took my hand, and tried to 
 reason with me. 
 
 " Your cousin is undecided ; perhaps the marriage 
 will not take place." 
 
 "What difference will that make, since he is in 
 love? One cannot love twice." 
 
 "Such a thing has been seen, my little child." 
 
 " I cannot believe it ; it would be horrible. I am 
 very unhappy, my poor cure." 
 
 " Have you spoken to your uncle ? "
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 219 
 
 "No; but he has divined my thoughts. Besides, 
 what would be the use? He could not force Paul to 
 love me and forget his daughter. I would not have 
 him know of my love, I would rather die." 
 
 A long silence followed this manifestation of my 
 pride. We looked into the fire like two good little 
 sorcerers who were trying to read the secrets of the 
 future in the flames and the glowing embers. 
 
 But flames and embers made no answer, and I was 
 weeping silently, when the cure resumed, with a half- 
 smile, 
 
 " He does not, then, resemble either Francis I. or 
 Buckingham ! " 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur le Cure," I answered quickly, "if 
 Francis I. or Buckingham were there, they would not 
 have to be entreated to love me, and I should be 
 very happy." 
 
 " Hum ! " the cur6 found this answer unorthodox 
 and capable of unpleasant interpretations. 
 
 He abandoned at once a subject so bristling with 
 snares, and preached resignation. 
 
 " Consider, Reine, how young you are. This 
 trial will pass, and you have a long life before 
 you." 
 
 " I have not a resigned nature, my cure ; learn that. 
 If I live, I shall never marry; but I shall not live, I 
 am consumptive, listen ! " 
 
 And I tried to produce a hollow cough.
 
 220 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Don't let us joke on that subject, Reine. Dicu 
 mcrci! you are in good health." 
 
 "Come," I said, rising, "I see that you will not 
 believe me. Let us take advantage of the fine 
 weather and the few moments I have left of life to 
 go to Buisson, Monsieur le CureV' 
 
 We set out briskly for my old home under a pleas- 
 ant November sun infinitely less sweet, less genial, 
 than the affection of my cure, and the sight of his 
 kindly face grown all rosy since my coming. I 
 watched with delight his hair fluttering in the wind, 
 his elastic step, his whole figure, stout and jocund, 
 which I had watched so often through the hall win- 
 dow while the rain whipped the panes and the wind 
 roared and whistled through the dilapidated doors 
 of the old house. 
 
 After a visit to Perrine and Suzon, I went through 
 it from top to bottom. Truly, time should not be 
 measured by the number of days that have passed, 
 but by the vividness and the number of events. A 
 very few weeks before I had left this old ruin; and 
 if some one had told me that many years had passed 
 over my head, I should have really believed them. 
 
 I dragged the cure into the garden. Poor virgin 
 forest! it recalled unhappy days, yet I was delighted 
 to go all over it. 
 
 And then the remembrance of some rapturous hours 
 came into my head, a remembrance still delightful
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 221 
 
 to me, notwithstanding the bitterness of the miscon- 
 ceptions that had followed a moment of happiness. 
 
 "Do you remember, Monsieur le Cure"?" I said, 
 pointing out the cherry-tree which Paul had climbed. 
 
 "Let us talk of something else, little Reine. " 
 
 "Is it possible, my dear cure? If you knew how I 
 love him! He has no faults, I assure you!" 
 
 Once started on this subject, no power, human or 
 supernatural, could have stopped me, the more that 
 at Pavol I was obliged to hide my feelings. I talked 
 so long that the unhappy cure was entirely dazed. 
 
 We passed the evening in conversing and arguing. 
 The cur6 employed all his oratorical skill to prove to 
 me that resignation is a virtue full of wisdom and 
 easy of acquirement. 
 
 "My cure," I answered seriously, "you do not know 
 what love is." 
 
 "Believe me, Reine, with a little effort you will 
 forget and easily overcome this trial. You are so 
 young! " 
 
 So young! that was his refrain. Does not one 
 suffer at sixteen as at no matter what age? These 
 old people are astonishing! 
 
 On my side I answered, shaking my head, 
 
 "You do not understand, my cure; you do not 
 understand ! " 
 
 The next morning, while he walked with me in his 
 garden, I said to him,
 
 222 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cure, I had an idea last night." 
 " Let us have the idea, ma petite. " 
 "I want you to come to the living at Pavol. " 
 "One cannot take another's place, Reine. " 
 " The curate of Pavol is as old as Herod, Monsieur 
 le Cur6 ; he ages fast, and I watch the signs of weak- 
 ness with a tender solicitude. Would you not like 
 to succeed him ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course ; yet I should be sorry to leave my 
 parish. Thirty-five years have I been here, and I 
 love it now." 
 
 " Now ! have you not always loved it ? " 
 "No, indeed, Reine; you know how dull it is. 
 Perhaps it has never occurred to you that I have 
 been young. My aspirations were not exactly like 
 yours, my little child; but I should have loved an 
 active life; I should have loved to see and to hear 
 things, for I did not lack intelligence, and I desired 
 the intellectual resources which I have never had. 
 Then, before you came into my life, I had neither 
 affection nor friendship from a soul. But one over- 
 comes vexations and disappointments, Reine, when 
 one really wishes. I was very happy for a long 
 time before you left Buisson; I had forgotten the 
 dreary and evil days of my youth." 
 
 The good cure looked before him, a little thought- 
 fully ; and I, who had never imagined, seeing him so 
 light-hearted and contented, that he had suffered in
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 223 
 
 his time, was touched by his resignation so real, so 
 sweet, and so free from rancour. 
 
 " You are a saint, my cure ! " I said, taking his 
 hand. 
 
 "C/iutf Don't talk nonsense, dear child! I have 
 suffered from a narrow life; but that is the lot, you 
 see, of all my brethren who have a young and active 
 disposition. I have spoken of this to make you un- 
 derstand that one can bear everything, that one can 
 even find happiness and cheerfulness when trials 
 have passed, if one bears them courageously." 
 
 I understood him perfectly, but the cure was preach- 
 ing in the desert. I was too young not to be very 
 fixed in my ideas, and I naturally said to myself that 
 in the way of troubles nothing can compare with a 
 disappointment in love. 
 
 " If the living of Pavol is vacant some day, I should 
 be happy to go there, Reine, only I have no voice in 
 the matter." 
 
 " Yes, I know that ; but my uncle is a great friend 
 of the bishop. He will arrange it." 
 
 The cure drove me back to C . When he saw 
 
 me installed in my uncle's elegant landau, he cried : 
 
 " How happy I am to see you in your proper place, 
 Reine! This landau makes a better setting for you 
 than Jean's cart ! " 
 
 "You will soon see me in a beautiful chateau," I 
 answered. " I am going to pray the saints that the
 
 224 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 cur6 of Pavol may fly away to heaven; it is a very 
 charitable wish, because he is old and ill. You will 
 have a beautiful church and a pulpit, Monsieur le 
 Cure, a real high pulpit!" 
 
 The horses started, and I leaned over the door to 
 see the last of my old cure, who waved me adieus 
 without thinking of putting on his hat, for a bliss- 
 ful and joyous hope had entered his heart. 

 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ''T^HIS visit to the cure did me good for a time 
 
 -*- only. 
 
 The salutary effect of his counsels vanished rapidly. 
 I fell back into my gloomy fancies ; and my uncle, all 
 the while inwardly cursing womankind, nieces, their 
 obstinacy, and their caprices, spoke of taking us to 
 Paris, Blanche and me, for a change of scene, when 
 most happily events came with a rush. 
 
 A few days after this, Monsieur de Pavol received a 
 letter from a friend, who asked permission to bring 
 to the chateau one of his cousins, a Monsieur de 
 Kerveloch, an old attach^ of the embassy. 
 
 My uncle answered promptly that he would be 
 happy to receive Monsieur de Kerveloch, and invited 
 him to breakfast without suspecting that he was has- 
 tening an event which, while it destroyed his pet 
 scheme, would restore my hopes and happiness. 
 
 is
 
 226 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 The next day but one, I have good reason to 
 always remember that famous day, the next day but 
 one, the weather was atrocious. 
 
 According to our custom, we were all in the salon. 
 Blanche, thoughtful, seated near the fire, answered 
 Monsieur de Conprat in monosyllables. 
 
 This headstrong lover, not being able to bear his 
 exile, had reappeared at Pavol forty-eight hours before. 
 My uncle read his paper; and as for me, I had taken 
 refuge in a window-recess. 
 
 Now I worked with a nervous activity, for I was 
 devoted to needle-work; now I watched the leaden 
 sky, and the rain which fell without stopping. I 
 heard the wind roar, that November wind which 
 wails in such melancholy fashion, and I felt tired 
 and sad without the least presentiment of happi- 
 ness, although at that very moment happiness was 
 coming to me behind a fine pair of fast-trotting 
 horses. 
 
 From time to time I threw a stealthy glance of 
 the eye at Paul. He was watching Blanche with a 
 look which made me want to strangle him. 
 
 "What a stupid he looks like," I said to myself, 
 "with his staring, sheepish eyes glued on her! Yes; 
 but if I were in Blanche's place, and he looked at 
 me in the same way, I should think him charming 
 and more attractive than ever! Such is human stu- 
 pidity and inconsistency."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 227 
 
 And I drove my needle with such fury that it 
 broke off short. 
 
 At that moment we heard a carriage approach the 
 chateau. My uncle folded up his paper; Juno pricked 
 up her ears, saying, " Here comes some one ; " and a 
 few seconds after my uncle's friend and his attach^ 
 of the embassy appeared. 
 
 I do not know why in my mind this title was 
 inseparable from old age and baldness. Neverthe- 
 less, not only was Monsieur de Kerveloch neither old 
 nor bald, but with the exception of Francis I. as 
 shown in his portrait, I have never seen a man of 
 such fine physique. 
 
 When he entered, I had an idea that he had matri- 
 monial designs in his handsome head. He was thirty 
 years old, and was so tall that beside him Paul 
 seemed transformed into a pygmy; his expression was 
 intelligent, haughty, and such that no one at first 
 sight, or even at second sight, would have assigned 
 him the aureole of a saint. Reserved, but courteous 
 to a degree, he had polished manners, and an ease 
 which captivated Blanche on the spot. 
 
 Monsieur de Kerveloch watched her with admira- 
 tion; and when he rose to go away, and stood before 
 her, I felt with a secret joy that a better-assorted 
 couple could not be seen. 
 
 I think each one had the same idea, for Paul left 
 us with a gloomy face. Juno played over Weber's
 
 228 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 Last Thought, or something equally tiresome, ten 
 times in succession, a proof with her of great absent- 
 mindedness; while my uncle watched each of us with 
 a thoughtful and satirical air. 
 
 Monsieur de Kerveloch came to breakfast the next 
 day at Pavol ; three days after, he proposed for Blanche ; 
 and two weeks later I wrote to the cure, 
 
 MY DEAR CUR, Man is an inconstant, changeable, capri- 
 cious little animal, a weathercock which veers to all the whims 
 of imagination and circumstance. When I say man, I mean 
 to speak of humanity in general, because I am to-day the 
 little animal in question. 
 
 I am in despair no longer. I have no more desire to die, 
 my cure. I find that the sun has recovered its brilliancy ; that 
 the future holds many pleasures for me ; that the universe is 
 wise in existing, and that death is the most stupid invention 
 of the Creator. 
 
 Blanche is to marry, Monsieur le Cure ! Blanche is to 
 marry the Comte de Kerveloch ! Dieu ! how well they suit 
 each other ! And it was only by a straw, a hair's breadth, by 
 nothing at all, that she missed accepting Monsieur de Conprat, 
 a man she did not love, and whom she found fault with for 
 eating too much. Eating too much, it is absurd, such an 
 idea ! as if it were not perfectly rational to eat heartily when 
 one has a good appetite. If you ask me how matters have 
 changed so suddenly at Pavol, I can hardly answer you. I am 
 entirely upset ; and all that I can tell you is that one beautiful 
 day, one superb day, no, it was raining in torrents, but that 
 is no matter, one day, I say, Monsieur de Kerveloch came 
 here, brought by a friend of my uncle. When I saw him enter,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 229 
 
 I fancied that he had some ulterior motive, fancied also that he 
 would please Blanche, because he has all the qualities she 
 dreams of in a husband. Monsieur de Kerveloch looked at 
 her as a man who knows how to appreciate beauty ; and some 
 days after he solicited the honour of her hand, as my uncle 
 and etiquette express it. 
 
 Juno shook off her usual nonchalance to declare with 
 warmth that no suitor had ever pleased her as much, and that 
 she had fully decided to refuse Monsieur de Conprat. 
 
 That is the story, my dear cure\ It is plain, simple, 
 clear ; and since then my fancies soar as in the past. I throw 
 the reins on the neck of my imagination and let it canter and 
 canter until it can go no longer ; and I dance in my room 
 when I am all alone. Ah, my dear cure", I do not know why 
 I love you to-day ten times more than usual. Your good face 
 seems to me more smiling than ever, your affection more touch- 
 ing, more delightful, your beautiful white hair more charming. 
 
 This morning I looked at the leafless trees, which seemed 
 to me fresh and green, at the gray sky, which seemed quite 
 blue, and all at once I made friends with my imagination. 
 I shall repent all my life of having treated it so villanously the 
 other day. It is a fairy, my dear cure, a fairy full of charm, 
 of power, of poetry, which, touching the ugliest things with 
 its magic wand, clothes them with its own beauty. 
 
 What a changeable little being it is ! I cannot get over it. 
 Why cherish hope and joy? Why make one's self wretched 
 when things arrange themselves so well without one's inter- 
 ference ? But why am I so light-hearted when nothing is yet de- 
 cided as to my future, and when I remember that it is not pos- 
 sible to love twice in the course of one's life. What a chaos, 
 my cure 1 ! The world is full of mysteries, and the soul is a
 
 230 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 fathomless abyss. I believe that some one, I do not know 
 where, has already uttered this thought, perhaps even I read it 
 no later than yesterday, but I was perfectly able to say as much. 
 
 Nevertheless, when my excitement subsides, my joyful 
 hopes are seized with an irresistible panic ; they escape, fly 
 away, and disappear, and I often cannot call them back. Be- 
 cause, after all, he loves her, Monsieur le Cure ; he loves her, 
 a wretched word used as I use it now. 
 
 You said to me that it was not unusual to be in love twice 
 in a lifetime, my cure ; but are you sure ? Are you perfectly 
 certain ? Love attracts love, they say ; if he knew my secret, 
 would he, perhaps, love me? You, who are a man of sense, 
 Monsieur le Cure 1 , do you not find the proprieties idiotic? An 
 avowal on my part would probably be enough to secure the 
 happiness of my whole life ; and here are these rules, invented 
 by some one without judgment, which prevent my following 
 my inclination to reveal my secret thoughts and tell my love 
 to him I love. To speak the truth, something, I know not 
 what, at the bottom of my heart, compels me as strongly to be 
 silent and did I not say to you that the soul was a fathom- 
 less abyss ! My dear cure', I see a procession of gloomy 
 fancies approaching. How ill-balanced man is ! 
 
 There is no doubt that circumstances modify opinions. 
 My uncle goes so far as to assert that fools only never change 
 their minds ; but is it the same with the heart as the mind? 
 
 Enlighten me, my old cure\ 
 
 When a thing was decided on, Monsieur de Pavol 
 never liked to dilly-dally in carrying it out. In ac- 
 cordance with this principle he decided that Blanche's 
 marriage should take place January 15.
 
 My Uncle and My Ciir'e. 231 
 
 His misapprehension had been a rude shock; but 
 he was the less disposed to oppose his daughter 
 because he knew of my love, and because he was 
 generous, upright, intelligent, and incapable of per- 
 sisting in any pet project when the happiness of 
 his niece was at stake. 
 
 As to Paul, he bore his ill-fortune bravely. Like 
 the little creature who loved him so tenderly with- 
 out his suspecting it, he had not the smallest par- 
 ticle of angry feeling. I certify that he never had 
 a desire to poison his rival or gallantly cut his throat 
 in some lonely and poetic nook in the woods. 
 
 When he knew that his hopes were ruined, he came to 
 see us with the commandant. He held out his hand 
 to Blanche, saying in a generous and natural tone, 
 
 "Cousin, I wish only your happiness, and I hope 
 we shall continue good friends." 
 
 But this way of acting the comedy hero did not pre- 
 vent his being greatly disappointed. His visits to 
 Pavol became very rare; and when I saw him, I 
 thought him changed mentally and physically. 
 
 Then I wept anew in secret, feeling very angry at 
 him. It would have been so logical to love me, so ra- 
 tional to see that our two characters were prodigiously 
 alike, and that I loved him to distraction. Truly if 
 men were always logical, the world would be no worse, 
 and their dispositions would be much better.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 'THHE 1 5th of January was beautiful and very cold. 
 The fields, covered with hoar-frost, looked 
 like fairyland. Juno, though very pale, was so 
 beautiful in her white dress that I could not keep 
 my eyes off her. She seemed to me like the cold 
 and magnificent world without, which, robed in daz- 
 zling white, was in keeping with her beauty. 
 
 After the breakfast she went to her room to change 
 her dress. She came down greatly agitated ; we kissed 
 her tearfully ; and she was off for Italy. 
 
 " The happy moment, the happy moment ! " I said 
 to myself.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 233 
 
 My many emotions had tired me out, and I wanted 
 to be alone. So leaving my uncle to dispose of 
 his guests as he best could, I caught up a fur cloak 
 and set out for a spot in the park of which I was 
 especially fond. 
 
 The park was crossed by a swift and narrow stream ; 
 at a certain part of its course it broadened out and 
 formed a cascade which some skilfully arranged rocks 
 made high and picturesque. A little way from the 
 cascade a tree had fallen, its foot on one side of 
 the stream, its top on the other. It had been for- 
 gotten as it lay; and when, the next spring, my uncle 
 wanted to take it away, he saw that it was alive 
 by the vigorous branches which were shooting out 
 all along its trunk. He had another tree thrown 
 beside it, intertwined their branches, planted con- 
 volvulus, which was trained over the two, and in 
 course of time branches and convolvulus became 
 so thick that my uncle had an original rustic bridge 
 which could be crossed without the least danger 
 of any one's getting entangled in the branches and 
 falling into the water. 
 
 It was this lonely spot, at some distance from 
 the chateau, which I had chosen as the scene of 
 my meditations. I stopped near the frost-covered 
 bridge to reflect on the future and admire the enor- 
 mous icicles hanging at the cascade which the cold 
 had frozen as the water fell.
 
 234 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 I do not know how long I was meditating thus 
 without noticing the cold which stung my face, 
 when I saw approaching the "object of my affec- 
 tion," as Madame Cottin would say. 
 
 The "object" appeared to be melancholy and in a 
 very bad humour; with a cane which in a moment of 
 abstraction he had stolen from my uncle, he dealt 
 energetic blows at the trees which came in his way, 
 and the white dust which covered them was scat- 
 tered over him. 
 
 I half turned about; but it is well known that 
 women have eyes in the backs of their heads, and 
 I did not miss one of his movements. 
 
 When he came near he crossed his arms, looked 
 at the motionless cascade, the bridge, the trees, but 
 did not open his mouth. Busy with a little fir twig 
 which I was breaking off, I held my breath, watch- 
 ing him sideways without his knowing it. 
 
 " Cousin ! " 
 
 "Cousin!" 
 
 I waited some seconds for him to conclude his 
 remarks; but finding that he stopped there, I con- 
 descended to turn half about toward the speaker, 
 to encourage him. 
 
 He scowled and* burst out, 
 
 " I should like to blow my brains out ! " 
 
 "Very well," I said dryly; "I will go to your 
 funeral."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 235 
 
 This reply surprised him so much that he dropped 
 his arms and stared at me. 
 
 "You would not keep me from committing suicide, 
 Cousin? " 
 
 "Certainly not," I answered tranquilly. "Why 
 should I mix myself in what does not concern me? 
 I love liberty; and if you desire to quit this vale 
 of tears, eh, mon Dieu! I would not raise a 
 finger to stop you. Let every one in this world do 
 as he pleases." 
 
 With that I set about considering my fir twig 
 again, while "my object," disconcerted by the lib- 
 eral way in which I had regarded his lugubrious 
 plan, had a somewhat disconcerted air. 
 
 "I thought you had a little regard for me, Made- 
 moiselle ma Cousine. The first time you saw me 
 you thought me agreeable." 
 
 "Alas, Monsieur mon Cousin! what signifies the 
 liking of a little country girl who is reduced to 
 the society of a cure, a scolding aunt, and a cross- 
 grained cook ? " 
 
 "Which means that you were nice to me simply 
 because I was not a cure, and my face was not en- 
 tirely withered like that of Madame de Lavalle?" 
 
 "You have said it, fair cousin." 
 
 He looked at me with fury, twisting his mustache 
 viciously, and seizing his hat, threw it angrily on 
 the bridge. Oh, how well I understood the action
 
 236 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 of his mind! He was delighted, delighted to find 
 a pretext to growl, and to blame me for his decep- 
 tion, just as I had vented my bitterness on my terra- 
 cotta men and the unfortunate Baron Le Maltour. 
 
 " Your aunt was horrible, Mademoiselle ! " he said 
 brusquely. 
 
 "My beautiful eyes made up for it, Monsieur," 
 I answered in the same tone. 
 
 "And what a charming table and lovely service! 
 Everything was criss-cross ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but what a turkey ! How was it you did not 
 die of indigestion? I really thought you had, until I 
 saw you here mon Dicn! in perfect health." 
 
 " I know that it is impossible to have the last 
 word with you, Mademoiselle; I am not, for all that, 
 altogether unbearable, Cousin. What have I done 
 to you?" 
 
 " Nothing at all ! I have proved that by promising 
 to accompany your body to its last resting-place." 
 
 " My body ! " he cried with a painful shiver. " I 
 am not yet dead, Mademoiselle. Understand that 
 I do not intend to kill myself, and that I am about 
 to set out for Russia." 
 
 " Bon voyage, Monsieur mon Cousin ! " 
 
 He went away; and thinking that he was gone 
 for a very long time, I crossed my hands dejectedly 
 and great tears were coming to my eyes, when I 
 saw him running back.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 237 
 
 " Come, Reine, let us not sulk, either of us. Why 
 were you an Why, are you crying? " 
 
 "I was thinking of Juno," I said, succeeding in 
 speaking in a natural tone. 
 
 "That is true, little cousin; you will be entirely 
 alone. Let us shake hands, shall we? " 
 
 "Willingly, Paul." 
 
 Alas! he did not kiss my hand; he only pressed 
 it in melancholy fashion, because he was thinking 
 of a fairer hand which he had dreamed of possessing. 
 
 And he went away for good and all. 
 
 Notwithstanding the cold, which I took no thought 
 of, I sat down near the bridge in tears, and lean- 
 ing over the stream, watched them fall on the ice. 
 
 "To speak of blowing out his brains!" I said, 
 "he must love her prodigiously. I know that he 
 will not; but he is probably as infatuated with her 
 as I with him, and I am sure that I could never 
 forget him. How silly it is! how silly it is! to 
 fall in love with a woman who is so ill-suited to 
 him, while close at hand there is a little - 
 
 "What are you doing here, Reine? " said my uncle, 
 who had drawn near without my having heard his 
 step. 
 
 I rose quickly, ashamed of not being able to hide 
 my emotion. 
 
 " What ! we are crying ! " 
 
 " How stupid men are, Uncle ! "
 
 238 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "A profound truth, my niece! Is that why you 
 are crying? " 
 
 " Paul wants to blow his brains out," I said, weeping. 
 
 " Do you believe him capable of proceeding to such 
 extremities? " 
 
 "No," I answered, smiling in spite of my tears. 
 "Violence is certainly contrary to his nature; but his 
 wish proves that 
 
 "Yes, I know, my niece. His wish shows that he 
 loves my daughter; but, believe me, he will forget 
 her very quickly, and when he returns here we will 
 take such steps that his heart shall not go astray 
 again." 
 
 "You think, then, Uncle, that a man can love 
 twice in his life without being a phenomenon?" 
 
 Monsieur de Pavol patted my cheek and looked at 
 me with a commiseration addressed as much to my 
 inexperience as to my trouble. 
 
 "Poor little niece! The men who love only once 
 in a life are as little known as the peak of Aiguille- 
 Verte." 
 
 "Then, Uncle, man is a wretched creature," I said 
 with conviction. 
 
 But I was as enchanted as indignant, and I asked 
 nothing better than to profit by the inherent villany 
 of human nature. 
 
 " But Juno is so beautiful ! " 
 
 "Look at this bridge which you are so fond of,
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 239 
 
 Reine. Before the branches and the plants which 
 cover it are green again, Paul will have forgotten ; 
 before the leaves have had time to turn yellow and 
 fall again, he will have returned to Pavol, and 
 
 He smiled significantly, and took himself off with- 
 out finishing his sentence; while I, quite startled, 
 watched him disappear, thinking that uncles who 
 predict the future with so much self-possession are 
 truly singular beings. 
 
 "It is all very well," I said, retaking with slow 
 steps the path to the house; "but if his heart changes, 
 he can be infatuated with some woman on his travels. 
 And, in fact, they say that Russian women are very 
 beautiful He must be sent among the Eskimos." 
 
 I began to run with all my might, and reached 
 the door of the chateau just as the commandant was 
 getting into his carriage. 
 
 I took his arm and led him one side. 
 
 "Commandant, Paul is going to Russia? " 
 
 "Yes; his journey is decided on." 
 
 " I thought if you liked that in short, it would 
 be better 
 
 Decidedly it was much more difficult to speak out 
 than I had supposed. My pride stood in the way 
 and urged me to be silent. 
 
 "Well, dear child, speak quickly; I am freezing 
 here ! " 
 
 " The die is cast ! " I cried aloud, stamping my foot.
 
 240 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 My pride and I crossed the Rubicon, and I said, 
 dropping my eyes, 
 
 "My dear commandant, I beg you, advise Paul to 
 go among the Eskimos." 
 
 " Why among the Eskimos ? " 
 
 "Because the women of that country are hideous, 
 and the Russians are very beautiful." 
 
 The good commandant raised my face, all red with 
 confusion, and answered simply, 
 
 " So be it ; I shall advise him to go among the 
 Eskimos." 
 
 " How I love you ! " I said, tears in my eyes as I 
 pressed his hand. " But tell him not to stay long in 
 the huts of those good people and get ill; it seems 
 that there is a most atrocious smell 
 
 Seeing my uncle approach, I fled, saying, 
 
 " Commandant, a man of honour has but to give 
 his word. Be sure and keep yours." 
 
 I went up to my room with the very disagreeable 
 assurance that I had followed fully the example of 
 the government, and that I had trodden under foot 
 all considerations of dignity. 
 
 But, bah! if one does not help one's self a little in 
 this world, how can one be able to take advantage 
 of an opportunity? This reflection suppressed my 
 compunctions. I sat down at my secretary and wrote : 
 
 " All is over, Monsieur le Cur ! They are married ; they 
 have gone, happy and blissful ; and I would have given ten
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 241 
 
 years of my existence to be in Juno's place, with him whom 
 you well know. When shall I be there ? 
 
 " Do you know what my uncle said ? He asserts that men 
 who love only once in their life are as little known as the peak 
 of Aiguille- Verte. My cur, my dear cur, I beg you, pray 
 to-morrow that Monsieur de Conprat be not the peak of 
 Aiguille-Verte. 
 
 " Au revoir, Monsieur le Cure ; I hope you will come soon 
 to the living of Pavol." 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 r I ""HE only event of the end of the winter was, in fact, 
 -* the installation of the cure in the parish of Pavol, 
 and I will not dwell on the happiness we had in finding 
 ourselves without fear of a near separation. 
 
 With what delight did I see him enter the pulpit, 
 and preach, with a joyous air, on the iniquities of man. 
 Then he came to the chateau, as of old to Buisson, his 
 cassock tucked up, his hat under his arm, his hair blow- 
 ing in the wind. 
 
 We resumed our talks, our arguments, our disputes. 
 The time seemed to me very long; and Juno's letters, 
 which breathed the most complete happiness, were not 
 of a kind to console and make me patient. So I went
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 243 
 
 continually to find the cure, to confide to him my cares, 
 my anxieties, my hopes, and my impatience at the delay 
 which I had to endure. 
 
 I knew that "my object" had not in the least ap- 
 proved the idea of going among the Eskimos. He was 
 wandering tranquilly about St. Petersburg, and the beau- 
 tiful Russian ladies frightened me terribly. 
 
 "Are you sure that he will not fall in love with a 
 Russian, Monsieur le Cure?" 
 
 " We will hope so, little Reine." 
 
 " We will hope so ! Answer more categorically, my 
 cure ! What are you thinking of ? Come, it is not 
 possible that he should fall in love with a foreigner; tell 
 me that it is not, and that he will love me some day ! " 
 
 " I hope so sincerely, my poor little child ; but you 
 would do better to think otherwise and act accordingly." 
 
 " You will worry me to death with your resignation, 
 my dear cure." 
 
 " Ah, how little wisdom you have, Reine ! " 
 
 " W'isdom, in my opinion, consists in wishing for 
 happiness. Tell me that he will love me, my cure, I 
 beg you." 
 
 " I ask nothing better, my dear child," answered the 
 cure, who, notwithstanding his dread of physical suffer- 
 ing, would have been perfectly capable of following the 
 example of Mucius Scaevola and burning his right hand, 
 if my happiness had depended on such a sacrifice. 
 
 None the less, notwithstanding the joy of having my
 
 244 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 cur, notwithstanding the kindness of my uncle and all 
 those about me, I became very depressed. 
 
 I loved to wander alone through the paths of the 
 wood. I loved to stay by the hour near the cascade, 
 thinking of our last meeting, thinking what I should do 
 if I saw him appear, bright and charming, with his eyes 
 full of that look which had pleased me so much at 
 Buisson, and which I had never since seen in them for 
 me. 
 
 This love of solitude increased day by day, and my 
 melancholy increased in proportion. At last I lost, 
 little by little, my talkativeness ; and if Monsieur de Pavol 
 had not now for a long time believed in the sincerity of 
 my love, this fact alone would have proved its depth. 
 
 Six months passed in this way. 
 
 One day, the anniversary of my arrival at Pavol, I 
 was seated in the garden of the presbythe. A shower, 
 two hours before, had refreshed the air and bathed the 
 curb's flowers. He was amusing himself in looking for 
 snails; while I, under the influence of pleasant thoughts, 
 leaned my head against the wall near which my bench 
 was placed, and let joyful hopes take possession of me. 
 The drops of water, which bent down the leaves under 
 their weight, alone disturbed my meditations as they 
 fell, and the odour of the wet earth recalled the hap- 
 piest hours of my life. 
 
 From time to time the cure said to me, 
 
 " It is astonishing, all these snails ! Would you
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 245 
 
 believe, Reine, that I have already found more than five 
 hundred?" 
 
 I lifted my head carelessly, and smilingly watched the 
 good cure, who continued his researches with ardour. 
 Then I betook myself again to my reveries, and ended 
 by falling half asleep. 
 
 I was awakened by the scraping of the gate in the 
 garden-hedge and the sound of a cheerful voice which 
 gave me the most violent start I ever had. 
 
 "Good-day, my dear cur; how do you do? How 
 pleased I am to see you ! And Reine, where is she? " 
 
 Reine was still seated in the same place, finding it 
 impossible to speak or move. 
 
 " Ah, there she is ! " cried Paul, approaching with long 
 strides. " Dear little cousin, how happy I am, mon 
 Dieu, how happy I am to see you ! " 
 
 He took my hand and kissed it. 
 
 I declare that what followed was entirely independent 
 of my will, and that it is not necessary to make unkind 
 inferences with respect to me. 
 
 I declare that I fought against temptation with all my 
 might. But when I felt his lips on my hand ; when I 
 realized that the act was not inspired by ordinary 
 gallantry, but by a deeper feeling ; when I saw him bend 
 over me and look at me with an anxious, singular, affec- 
 tionate expression, a hundred times more enchanting 
 than what I had dreamed of, it was too much for my 
 strength ; and fate, in which I have been a believer from
 
 246 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 that moment, picked me up and threw me into his 
 arms. 
 
 I had hardly time to feel the embrace that responded 
 to my outburst. I took refuge, red and confused, on 
 the bench, hiding my face in my hands, not without 
 having caught a glimpse of the face of the cure, whose 
 stupefied, frightened, delighted look came back to me 
 afterward. 
 
 " Dear Reine," Paul murmured in my ear, " if I had 
 known your secret sooner, I should not have stayed so 
 long away from you." 
 
 I did not answer, for I was weeping. 
 
 He took one of my hands by force and held it in his ; 
 while, overcome by an attack of timidity such as I had 
 never had, I turned my head aside, trying to withdraw 
 it. 
 
 " Let me have it, this pretty little hand ; it belongs to 
 me now. Turn your head this way, Reine." 
 
 I looked straight into those beautiful honest eyes 
 which smiled at me, and cried, 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! my uncle was right; you are not 
 the peak of Aiguille-Verte ! " 
 
 " The peak of Aiguille-Verte ! " he exclaimed, 
 astonished. 
 
 " Yes ; my uncle asserted but no matter ! Who told 
 you what you did not know when you went away? " 
 
 " My father, Monsieur de Pavol, and many things 
 which recurred to me during the last two months."
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 249 
 
 "It is true, then, that love attracts love?" I said 
 innocently. 
 
 " Nothing is more true, dear little fiancee.!" 
 
 Oh, the sweet name ! Yes, we were engaged ; and we 
 were silent, while the cure wept for joy, the sparrows on 
 the roof of the presbyttre chattered deafeningly, and the 
 snails, escaping from the prison where the cure had 
 placed them, ran in every direction. 
 
 Most certainly the sparrow is not a fascinating bird ; 
 its plumage is dull and ugly, its note lacks sweetness, 
 and some persons declare that it is a thief and immoral, 
 which I refuse to believe. I do not know further that 
 snails have passed for very poetic animals; it is none 
 the less true that from the moment of which I am 
 speaking, I have adored sparrows and snails. 
 
 I was in an ecstasy ; I thought myself in a dream. I 
 did not take my eyes off him, as I listened to the voice 
 I loved so well and felt my hand grasped in his. All 
 the same, in spite of myself, the recollection of her 
 whom he had loved haunted my mind and troubled my 
 joy a little, though I did not dare to speak of it. 
 
 " My uncle knows that you are here, Paul? " 
 
 "Yes, I come from Pavol; and I wished to come to 
 you absolutely alone. This wet garden, does it recall 
 anything to you, Reine? " 
 
 I did not answer His question directly. I said to him 
 only,
 
 250 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 "But you you retained a bad impression of 
 Buisson?" 
 
 " I, indeed ! I never passed so pleasant an evening." 
 
 " Oh," I went on, watching him slyly, " my aunt, who 
 was horrible ? " 
 
 " No, no, not so horrible. A little common, perhaps ; 
 but you seemed only the more charming for it." 
 
 " And the cover so badly laid, everything criss-cross ! " 
 
 " I never dined so well. That dilapidated interior 
 made you appear like a flower which seems prettier and 
 more delicate because the plot in which it sprung is ugly 
 and unkempt." 
 
 " You have become a poet on your travels," I said, 
 smiling. 
 
 " No, not in the least, little Reine." 
 
 He put my arm in his and led me aside. 
 
 " No, not a poet, but your lover. Cousin, hear me ; I 
 love you sincerely and with all my heart." 
 
 I enjoyed the sweet words and the look which accom- 
 panied them, saying to myself inwardly that it was most 
 fortunate that men were inconstant. 
 
 But the change appeared to me unheard of, and I 
 could not help saying, 
 
 " Is it certain that you do not love her any more at 
 all, at all?" 
 
 "Would I speak as I have if it were not so?" he 
 answered seriously. " Have you not confidence in my 
 loyalty?"
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 251 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " I exclaimed, crossing my hands on his arm 
 in an outburst of affection. 
 
 It was perfectly true, for after his answer the image 
 of Blanche never rose to trouble me. I loved him with- 
 out a thought of the past, of jealousy or distrust ; and he 
 deserved this perfect confidence. 
 
 " Ah, here come my father and Monsieur de Pavol." 
 
 " Well, my niece, what do you think of my pre- 
 diction?" 
 
 " You are not very discreet, Uncle," I said, blushing. 
 
 " It was the commandant who revealed the secret, 
 Reine ; he has known it for a long time." 
 
 " Oh, no, only for eight months." 
 
 " From the first day when I saw you, dear little 
 daughter." 
 
 "Is it possible?" 
 
 "And Paul did not go at all among the Eskimos," 
 added my uncle, laughing. 
 
 How delightful it is to live among kind hearts ! I felt 
 this pleasure keenly as I saw with what satisfaction they 
 all shared my joy, with what delicacy, what kindliness, 
 they jested about that famous secret which, without 
 suspecting it, I had proclaimed to all the winds. 
 
 Then began that enchanting time, the time when one 
 is engaged, that delicious period which has nothing like 
 it in life. Nothing can take the place of those hours of 
 innocent love, of trust, of perfect illusions, and of youth- 
 ful fancies. Ah, how I pity those who have never
 
 252 My Uncle and My Cure. 
 
 loved in this way ! How I pity those whose folly draws 
 them far from the common path and pure affection ! 
 And as to that, never, never, no matter what may be 
 the eloquence of those who wish to convince me, will I 
 believe that true love can exist without having respect 
 as its basis. 
 
 We passed our days most delightfully at the prcsby- 
 tire, under the chaperonage of the cure. We watched 
 him bustling about his garden, fastening his plants to 
 their stakes, pulling up weeds, and stopping in his work 
 to throw an inquiring glance in our direction, in order 
 to let us know that he was a serious mentor. 
 
 We smiled at each other because we knew the sever- 
 ity of our debonair guardian. 
 
 I would go and fall in ecstasies with him over some 
 flower, shrub, or fruit, and would say, 
 
 " My cure, do you remember the time when you 
 tried to persuade me that love was not the most charm- 
 ing thing in the world?" 
 
 " Ah, my little child, I believe that Bossuet himself 
 could not have convinced you." 
 
 " Come, was I not right? " 
 
 " I begin to believe so," he would answer with his 
 good and charming smile. 
 
 The day of my marriage dawned radiant for me. 
 Never had the vault of heaven seemed more splendid. 
 Since then I have been told that it was cloudy ; but I 
 believe none of it.
 
 My Uncle and My Cure. 253 
 
 A throng of friends filled the church. There were 
 whispers, 
 
 " What a lovely bride ! How happy and tranquil she 
 seems ! " 
 
 It is true that I was surprisingly calm. 
 
 But why should I have disquieted myself? My most 
 cherished dream had come true ; a future of happiness 
 opened before me; and not the lightest anxiety came to 
 trouble me. 
 
 I saw indistinctly some dowagers smiling as I passed ; 
 and I was seized with a great compassion, as I reflected 
 that they were too old to be married. 
 
 The organ resounded so joyously that at the time I 
 overcame a little of my prejudice against music. The 
 altar was adorned with flowers and dazzling with lights, 
 and all the details of decoration under the artistic taste 
 of Juno charmed the eye. 
 
 My husband put the wedding ring on my finger with 
 an uncertain hand, biting his beautiful mustache to hide 
 his trembling lips. He was much more affected than I, 
 and his look said what I should have loved to have said 
 over and over without end. 
 
 And truly one might have searched the world over, 
 and all the other planets of the universe, to find a face 
 as radiant as that of my cure. 
 
 THE END.
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 m our* 
 
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