
 <£>££ 
 
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 (&m& 
 
THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE 
 By H. DE BALZAC 
 
 SCENES FROM PROVINCIAL LIFE 
 PIERRETTE 
 
 AND 
 
 THE VICAR OF TOURS 
 
BALZAC'S NOVELS. 
 
 Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. 
 
 Already Published: 
 PEEE GORIOT. 
 DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. 
 RISE AND PALL OF CESAR BIROTTEAU. 
 EUGENIE GRANDET. 
 COUSIN PONS. 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 THE TWO BROTHERS. 
 THE ALKAHEST. 
 MODESTE MIGNON. 
 THE MAGIC SKIN (Peau de Chagrin). 
 COUSIN BETTE. 
 LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 BUREAUCRACY (Les Employes). 
 SERAPHITA. 
 SONS OP THE SOIL. 
 FAME AND SORROW. 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 URSULA. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. 
 ALBERT SAVARUS. 
 BALZAC : A MEMOIR. 
 PIERRETTE. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 BOSTON. 
 
HONORE DE BALZAC 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 
 
 PIERRETTE 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 3 SOMERSET STREET 
 
 BOSTON 
 1892 
 
Copyright, 1892, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 S3 ft*/- 
 
 dm'iraitg fJrtss: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 PIERRETTE. 
 
 CHAPTEK TAGE 
 
 I. The Lorrains 2 
 
 II. The Rogrons 20 
 
 III. Pathology of Retired Mercers .... 38 
 
 IV. Pierrette . . < , . . , 73 
 
 V. History of Poor Cousins in the Homes 
 
 of Rich Ones 95 
 
 VI. An Old Maid's Jealousy 117 
 
 VII. Domestic Tyranny 143 
 
 VIII. The Loves of Jacques and Pierrette . 162 
 
 IX. The Family Council 192 
 
 X. Verdicts — Legal and Other 208 
 
 THE VICAR OF TOURS 227 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 :ebeeti e. 
 
 To Mademoiselle Anna Hanska: 
 
 Dear Child, — You, the joy of the household, you, 
 
 whose pink or white pelerine flutters in summer among 
 
 the groves of Wierzschovnia like a will-o'-the-wisp, 
 
 followed b}^ the tender eyes of your father and your 
 
 mother, — how can I dedicate to you a story full of 
 
 melancholy ? And yet, ought not sorrows to be spoken 
 
 of to a young girl idolized as you are, since the day 
 
 may come when your sweet hands will be called to 
 
 minister to them? It is so difficult, Anna, to find 
 
 in the history of our manners and morals a subject 
 
 that is worthy of j^our eyes, that no choice has been 
 
 left me ; but perhaps you will be made to feel how 
 
 fortunate your fate is when you read the story sent 
 
 to you by 
 
 Your old friend, 
 
 De Balzac. 
 
Pierrette. 
 
 THE LORRAINS. 
 
 At the dawn of an October day in 1827 a young 
 fellow about sixteen years of age, whose clothing pro- 
 claimed what modern phraseology so insolently calls 
 a proletary, was standing in a small square of Lower 
 Provins. At that early hour he could examine without 
 being observed the various houses surrounding the 
 open space, which was oblong in form. The mills 
 along the river were already working; the whirr of 
 their wheels, repeated by the echoes of the Upper 
 Town in the keen air and sparkling clearness of the 
 early morning, only intensified the general silence so 
 that the wheels of a diligence could be heard a league 
 away along the highroad. The two longest sides of 
 the square, separated by an avenue of lindens, were 
 built in the simple style which expresses so well the 
 peaceful and matter-of-fact life of the bourgeoisie. 
 No signs of commerce were to be seen ; on the other 
 hand, the luxurious porte-cocheres of the rich were 
 few, and those few turned seldom on their hinges, ex- 
 cepting that of Monsieur Martener, a physician, whose 
 
Pierrette. 3 
 
 profession obliged him to keep a cabriolet, and to 
 use it. A few of the house-fronts were covered hy 
 grape vines, others by roses climbing to the second- 
 story, windows, through which they wafted the fra- 
 grance of their scattered bunches. One end of the 
 square enters the main street of the Lower Town, 
 the gardens of which reach to the bank of one of the 
 two rivers which water the valley of Provins. The 
 other end of the square enters a street which runs 
 parallel to the main street. 
 
 At the latter, which was also the quietest end of 
 the square, the young workman recognized the house 
 of which he was in search, which showed a front of 
 white stone grooved in lines to represent courses, win- 
 dows with closed gray blinds, and slender iron bal- 
 conies decorated with rosettes painted yellow. Above 
 the ground floor and the first floor were three dormer 
 windows projecting from a slate roof; on the peak 
 of the central one was a new weather-vane. This 
 modern innovation represented a hunter in the attitude 
 of shooting a hare. The front door was reached by 
 three stone steps. On one side of this door a leaden 
 pipe discharged the sink-water into a small street- 
 gutter, showing the whereabouts of the kitchen. On 
 the other side were two windows, carefully closed 
 by g ra y shutters in which were heart-shaped openings 
 cut to admit the light; these windows seemed to be 
 
4 Pierrette. 
 
 those of the dining-room. In the elevation gained 
 by the three steps were vent-holes to the cellar, closed 
 by painted iron shutters fantastically cut in open-work. 
 Everything was new. In this repaired and restored 
 house, the fresh-colored look of which contrasted with 
 the time-worn exteriors of all the other houses, an 
 observer would instantly perceive the paltry taste and 
 perfect self-satisfaction of the retired petty shop- 
 keeper. 
 
 The young man looked at these details with an 
 expression of pleasure that seemed to have something 
 rather sad in it ; his eyes roved from the kitchen 
 to the roof, with a motion that showed a deliberate 
 purpose. The rosy glow of the rising sun fell on a 
 calico curtain at one of the garret windows, the others 
 being without that luxury. As he caught sight of it 
 the young fellow's face brightened gayly. He stepped 
 back a little way, leaned against a linden, and sang, 
 in the drawling tone peculiar to the west of France, 
 the following Breton ditty, published by Bruguiere, a 
 composer to whom we are indebted for many charm- 
 ing melodies. In Brittany, the young villagers sing 
 this song to all newly-married couples on their wedding- 
 day:— 
 
 m -ype > ve come to wish you happiness in marriage, 
 To m'sieur your husband 
 As well as to you : 
 
Pierrette. 5 
 
 * You have just been bound, madam' la mariee, 
 
 With bonds of gold 
 That only death unbinds : 
 
 " You will go no more to balls or gay assemblies ; 
 You must stay at home 
 While we shall go. 
 
 * Have you thought well how you are pledged to be 
 
 True to your spouse, 
 
 And love him like yourself? 
 
 " Receive these flowers our hands do now present you ; 
 Alas ! your fleeting honors 
 Will fade as they." 
 
 This native air (as sweet as that adapted by Chateau- 
 briand to Ma soeur, te souvient-il encore) , sung in this 
 little town of the Brie district, must have been to 
 the ears of a Breton maiden the touchstone of imperious 
 memories, so faithfully does it picture the manners 
 and customs, the surroundings and the heartiness of 
 her noble old land, where a sort of melancholy reigns, 
 hardly to be denned ; caused, perhaps, by the aspect 
 of life in Brittany, which is deeply touching. This 
 power of awakening a world of grave and sweet and 
 tender memories by a familiar and sometimes lively 
 ditty, is the privilege of those popular songs which are 
 the superstitions of music, — if we may use the word 
 "superstition" as signifying all that remains after the 
 ruin of a people, all that survives their revolutions. 
 
6 Pierrette. 
 
 As he finished the first couplet, the singer, who 
 never took his eyes from the attic curtain, saw no 
 signs of life. While he sang the second, the curtain 
 stirred. When the words "Receive these flowers" 
 were sung, a youthful face appeared; a white hand 
 cautiously opened the casement, and a girl made a 
 sign with her head to the singer as he ended with the 
 melancholy thought of the simple verses, — "Alas! 
 your fleeting honors will fade as they." 
 
 To her the young workman suddenly showed, draw- 
 ing it from within his jacket, a yellow flower, very 
 common in Brittany, and sometimes to be found in 
 La Brie (where, however, it is rare), — the furze, or 
 broom. 
 
 "Is it really you, Brigaut?" said the girl, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Yes, Pierrette, yes. I am in Paris. I have 
 started to make my way ; but I 'm ready to settle 
 here, near you." 
 
 Just then the fastening of a window creaked in a 
 room on the first floor, directly below Pierrette's attic. 
 The girl showed the utmost terror, and said to Brigaut, 
 quickly : — 
 
 "Run away!" 
 
 The lad jumped like a frightened frog to a bend 
 in the street caused by the projection of a mill just 
 where the square opens into the main thoroughfare ; 
 
Pierrette. 7 
 
 but in spite of his haste his hob-nailed shoes echoed 
 on the stones with a sound easily distinguished from 
 the music of the mill, and no doubt heard by the 
 person who opened the window. 
 
 That person was a woman. No man would have 
 torn himself from the comfort of a morning nap to 
 listen to a minstrel in a jacket; none but a maid 
 awakes to songs of love. Not only was this woman a 
 maid, but she was an old maid. When she had opened 
 her blinds with the furtive motion of a bat, she looked 
 in all directions, but saw nothing, and only heard, 
 faintly, the flying footfalls of the lad. Can there be 
 anything more dreadful than the matutinal apparition 
 of an ugly old maid at her window? Of all the 
 grotesque sights which amuse the eyes of travellers 
 in country towns, that is the most unpleasant. It 
 is too repulsive to laugh at. This particular old maid, 
 whose ear was so keen, was denuded of all the ad- 
 ventitious aids, of whatever kind, which she employed 
 as embellishments ; her false front and her collarette 
 were lacking ; she wore that horrible little bag of 
 black silk with which old women insist on covering 
 their skulls, and it was now revealed beneath the 
 night-cap which had been pushed aside in sleep. This 
 rumpled condition gave a menacing expression to the 
 head, such as painters bestow on witches. The tem- 
 ples, ears, and nape of the neck, were disclosed in all 
 
8 Pierrette. 
 
 their withered horror, — the wrinkles being marked in 
 scarlet lines that contrasted with the would-be white 
 of the bed-gown which was tied round her neck by 
 a narrow tape. The gaping of this garment revealed 
 a breast to be likened only to that of an old peasant 
 woman who cares nothing about her personal ugliness. 
 The fleshless arm was like a stick on which a bit 
 of stuff was hung. Seen at her window, this spinster 
 seemed tall from the length and angularity of her 
 face, which recalled the exaggerated proportions of 
 certain Swiss heads. The character of her counte- 
 nance — the features being marked by a total want 
 of harmon3 T — was that of hardness in the lines, sharp- 
 ness in the tones ; while an unfeeling spirit, pervad- 
 ing all, would have filled a physiognomist with dis- 
 gust. These characteristics, fully visible at this mo- 
 ment, were usually modified in public by a sort of 
 commercial smile, — a bourgeois smirk which mimicked 
 good-humor; so that persons meeting with this old 
 maid might very well take her for a kindly woman. 
 She owned the house on shares with her brother. The 
 brother, by-the-bye, was sleeping so tranquilly in his 
 own chamber that the orchestra of the Opera-house 
 could not have wakened him, wonderful as its diapason 
 is said to be. 
 
 The old maid stretched her neck out of the window, 
 twisted it, and raised her cold, pale- blue little ej'es, 
 
Pierrette. 9 
 
 with their short lashes set in lids that were always 
 rather swollen, to the attic window, endeavoring to 
 see Pierrette. Perceiving the uselessness of that at- 
 tempt, she retreated into her room with a movement 
 like that of a tortoise which draws in its head after 
 protruding it from its carapace. The blinds were then 
 closed, and the silence of the street was unbroken 
 except by peasants coming in from the country, or 
 very early persons moving about. 
 
 When there is an old maid in a house, watch-dogs 
 are unnecessary ; not the slightest event can occur 
 that she does not see and comment upon and pursue 
 to its utmost consequences. The foregoing trifling 
 circumstance was therefore destined to give rise to 
 grave suppositions, and to open the way for one of 
 those obscure dramas which take place in families, 
 and are none the less terrible because they are se- 
 cret, — if, indeed, we may apply the word "drama" 
 to such domestic occurrences. 
 
 Pierrette did not go back to bed. To her, Brigaut's 
 arrival was an immense event. During the night — 
 that Eden of the wretched — she escaped the vexa- 
 tions and fault-findings she bore during the day. Like 
 the hero of a ballad, German or Russian, I forget 
 which, her sleep seemed to her the happy life ; her 
 waking hours a bad dream. She had just had her 
 only pleasurable waking in three years. The memo- 
 
10 Pierrette. 
 
 ries of her childhood had sung their melodious ditties 
 in her soul. The first couplet was heard in a dream ; 
 the second made her spring out of bed ; at the third, 
 she doubted her ears, — the sorrowful are all disciples 
 of Saint Thomas ; but when the fourth was sung, 
 standing in her night-gown with bare feet by the 
 window, she recognized Brigaut, the companion of 
 her childhood. Ah, yes ! it was truly the well-known 
 square jacket with the bobtails, the pockets of which 
 stuck out at the hips, — the jacket of blue cloth which 
 is classic in Brittany ; there, too, were the waistcoat 
 of printed cotton, the linen shirt fastened by a gold 
 heart, the large rolling collar, the earrings, the stout 
 shoes, the trousers of blue-gray drilling unevenly col- 
 ored by the various lengths of the warp, — in short, 
 all those humble, strong, and durable things which 
 make the apparel of the Breton peasantry. The big 
 buttons of white horn which fastened the jacket made 
 the girl's heart beat. When she saw the bunch of 
 broom her eyes filled with tears ; then a dreadful fear 
 drove back into her heart the happy memories that 
 were budding there. She thought her cousin sleeping 
 in the room beneath her might have heard the noise she 
 made in jumping out of bed and running to the window. 
 The fear was just ; the old maid was coming, and she 
 made Brigaut the terrified sign which the lad obeyed 
 without the least understanding it. Such instinctive 
 
Pierrette. 11 
 
 submission to a girl's bidding shows one of those 
 innocent and absolute affections which appear from 
 century to century on this earth, where they blossom, 
 like the aloes of Isola Bella, twice or thrice in a 
 hundred years. Whoever had seen the lad as he ran 
 away would have loved the ingenuous chivalry of his 
 most ingenuous feeling. 
 
 Jacques Brigaut was worthy of Pierrette Lorrain, 
 who was just fifteen. Two children ! Pierrette could 
 not keep from crying as she watched his flight in 
 the terror her gesture had conveyed to him. Then 
 she sat down in a shabby armchair placed before a 
 little table above which hung a mirror. She rested 
 her elbows on the table, put her head in her hands, 
 and sat thinking for an hour, calling to memory the 
 Marais, the village of Pen-Hoel, the perilous voyages 
 on a pond in a boat untied for her from an old willow 
 by little Jacques; then the old faces of her grand- 
 father and grandmother, the sufferings of her mother, 
 and the handsome face of Major Brigaut, — in short, 
 the whole of her careless childhood. It was all a 
 dream, a luminous joy on the gloomy background of 
 the present. 
 
 Her beautiful chestnut hair escaped in disorder from 
 her cap, rumpled in sleep, — a cambric cap with ruffles, 
 which she had made herself. On each side of her 
 forehead were little ringlets escaping from gray curl- 
 
12 Pierrette. 
 
 papers. From the back of her head hung a heavy 
 braid of hair that was half unplaited. The excessive 
 whiteness of her face betrayed that terrible malady 
 of girlhood which goes by the name of chlorosis, de- 
 prives the body of its natural colors, destroys the 
 appetite, and shows a disordered state of the organism. 
 The waxy tones were in all the visible parts of her 
 flesh. The neck and shoulders explained by their 
 blanched paleness the wasted arms, flung forward and 
 crossed upon the table. Her feet seemed enervated, 
 shrunken from illness. Her night-gown came only to 
 her knees and showed the flaccid muscles, the blue 
 veins, the impoverished flesh of the legs. The cold, 
 to which she paid no heed, turned her lips violet, 
 and a sad smile, drawing up the corners of a sensitive 
 mouth, showed teeth that were white as ivory and 
 quite small, — pretty, transparent teeth, in keeping 
 with the delicate ears, the rather sharp but dainty 
 nose, and the general outline of her face, which, in 
 spite of its roundness, was lovely. All the animation 
 of this charming face was in the eyes, the iris of 
 which, brown like Spanish tobacco and flecked with 
 black, shone with golden reflections round pupils that 
 were brilliant and intense. Pierrette was made to be 
 gay, but she was sad. Her lost gayety was still to be 
 seen in the vivacious forms of the eye, in the ingenuous 
 grace of her brow, in the smooth curve of her chin. 
 
Pierrette. 13 
 
 The long eyelashes lay upon the cheek-bones, made 
 prominent by suffering. The paleness of her face, 
 which was unnaturally white, made the lines and all 
 the details infinitely pure. The ear alone was a little 
 masterpiece of modelling, — in marble, you might say. 
 Pierrette suffered in many ways. Perhaps you would 
 like to know her history, and this is it. 
 
 Pierrette's mother was a Demoiselle Auffray of 
 Provins, half-sister by the father's side of Madame 
 Eogron, mother of the present owners of the house. 
 
 Monsieur Auffray, her husband, had married at the 
 age of eighteen ; his second marriage took place when 
 he was nearly sixty-nine. By the first, he had an 
 only daughter, very plain, who was married at sixteen 
 to an innkeeper of Provins named Rogron. 
 
 By his second marriage the worthy Auffray had 
 another daughter ; but this one was charming. There 
 was, of course, an enormous difference in the ages 
 of these daughters ; the one by the first marriage 
 was fifty years old when the second child was born. 
 By this time the eldest, Madame Rogron, had two 
 grown-up children. 
 
 The youngest daughter of the old man was married 
 at eighteen to the man of her choice, a Breton officer 
 named Lorrain, captain in the Imperial Guard. Love 
 often makes a man ambitious. The captain, anxious 
 to rise to a colonelc} 7 , exchanged into a line regiment. 
 
14 Pierrette. 
 
 While he, then a major, and his wife enjoyed them- 
 selves in Paris on the allowance made to them by 
 Monsieur and Madame Auffray, or scoured Germany at 
 the beck and call of the Emperor's battles and truces, 
 old Auffray himself (formerly a grocer) died, at the 
 age of eighty-eight, without having found time to make 
 a will. His property was administered by his daughter, 
 Madame Rogron, and her husband so completely in 
 their own interests that nothing remained for the 
 old man's widow beyond the house she lived in on 
 the little square, and a few acres of land. This widow, 
 the mother of Madame Lorrain, was only thirt3'-eight 
 at the time of her husband's death. Like many widows, 
 she came* to the unwise decision of remarrying. She 
 sold the house and land to her step-daughter, Madame 
 Rogron, and married a young physician named N£raud, 
 who wasted her whole fortune. She died of grief and ^ 
 misery two years Tatert <J * > ""* v\ 
 
 Thus the share of her father's property which ought 
 to have come to Madame Lorrain disappeared al- 
 most entirely, being reduced to the small sum of eight 
 thousand francs. M&JoH^ Lorrain was killed at the 
 battle of Montereau, leaving his wife, then twenty- 
 one years of age,*with a little daughter of fourteen 
 months, and no c^Jrei"* means than the pension to which 
 she was entitled and an eventual inj^fitance from her 
 late husband's parents, Monsieur and Maxiame Lorrain, 
 
Pierrette. 15 
 
 retail shop-keepers at Pen-Hoel, a village in Vendee, 
 situated in that part of it which is called the Marais. 
 These Lorrains, grandfather and grandmother of Pier- 
 rette Lorrain, sold wood for building purposes, slates, 
 tiles, pantiles, pipes, etc. Their business, either from 
 their own incapacity or through ill-luck, did badly, and 
 gave them scarcely enough to live on. The failure 
 of the well-known firm of Colinet at Nantes, caused 
 by the events of 1814 which led to a sudden fall in 
 colonial products, deprived them of twenty-four thou- 
 sand francs which they had just deposited with that 
 house. 
 
 The arrival of their daughter-in-law was therefore 
 welcome to them. Her pension of eight hundred 
 francs was a handsome income at Pen-Hoel. The 
 eight thousand francs which the widow's half-brother 
 and sister Rogron sent to her from her father's estate 
 (after a multitude of legal formalities) were placed 
 by her in the Lorrains' business, they giving her a 
 mortgage on a little house which they owned at 
 Nantes, let for three hundred francs, and barely worth 
 ten thousand. 
 
 Madame Lorrain the younger, Pierrette's mother, 
 died in 1819. The child of old Auffray and his young 
 wife was small, delicate, and weakty ; the damp cli- 
 mate of the Marais did not agree with her. But her 
 husband's family persuaded her, in order to keep her 
 
16 Pierrette. 
 
 with them, that in no other quarter of the world could 
 she find a more healthy region. She was so petted 
 and tenderly cared for that her death, when it came, 
 brought nothing but honor to the old Lorrains. 
 
 Some persons declared that Brigaut, an old Ven- 
 d£en, one of those men of iron who served under 
 Charette, under Mercier, under the Marquis de Mon- 
 tauran, and the Baron du Guenic, in the wars against 
 the Republic, counted for a good deal in the willing- 
 ness of the younger Madame Lorrain to remain in 
 the Marais. If it were so, his soul must have been 
 a truly loving and devoted one. All Pen-Hoel saw 
 him — he was called respectfully Major Brigaut, the 
 grade he had held in the Catholic arm} 7 — spending 
 his da}'s and his evenings in the Lorrains' parlor, 
 beside the widow of the imperial major. Toward the 
 last, the curate of Pen-Hoel made certain represen- 
 tations to old Madame Lorrain, begging her to per- 
 suade her daughter-in-law to marry Brigaut, and prom- 
 ising to have the major appointed justice of peace for 
 the canton of Pen-Hoel, through the influence of the 
 Vicomte de Kergarouet. The death of the poor young 
 woman put an end to the matter. 
 
 Pierrette was left in charge of her grandparents 
 who owed her four hundred francs a year, interest on 
 the little property placed in their hands. This small 
 sum was now applied to her maintenance. The old 
 
Pierrette. 17 
 
 people, who were growing less and less fit for business, 
 soon found themselves confronted by an active and 
 capable competitor, against whom they said hard 
 things, all the while doing nothing to defeat him. 
 Major Brigaut, their friend and adviser, died six 
 months after his friend, the younger Madame Lorrain, 
 — perhaps of grief, perhaps of his wounds, of which 
 he had received twenty-seven. 
 
 Like a sound merchant, the competitor set about 
 ruining his adversaries in order to get rid of all rivalry. 
 With his connivance, the Lorrains borrowed money 
 on notes, which they were unable to meet, and which 
 drove them in their old days into bankruptcy. Pier- 
 rette's claim upon the house in Nantes was superseded 
 by the legal rights of her grandmother, who enforced 
 them to secure the daily bread of her poor husband. 
 The house was sold for nine thousand five hundred 
 francs, of which one thousand five hundred went for 
 costs. The remaining eight thousand francs came to 
 Madame Lorrain, who lived upon the income of them 
 in a sort of almshouse at Nantes, like that of Sainte- 
 Perine in Paris, called Saint- Jacques, where the two 
 old people had bed and board for a humble payment. 
 
 As it was impossible to keep Pierrette, their ruined 
 little granddaughter, with them, the old Lorrains be- 
 thought themselves of her uncle and aunt Rogron, in 
 Provins, to whom they wrote. These Rogrons were 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 £4UF0KH\b> 
 
18 Pierrette. 
 
 dead. The letter might, therefore, have easily been 
 lost ; but if anything here below can take the place of 
 Providence, it is the post. Postal spirit, incomparably 
 above public spirit, exceeds in brillianc}' of resource 
 and invention the ablest romance-writers. When the 
 post gets hold of a letter, worth, to it, from three to 
 ten sous, and does not immediately know where to 
 find the person to whom that letter is addressed, it 
 displays a financial anxiety only to be met with in 
 very pertinacious creditors. The post goes and comes 
 and ferrets through all the eighty-six departments. 
 Difficulties only rouse the genius of the clerks, who 
 may really be called men-of-letters, and who set about 
 to search for that unknown human being with as much 
 ardor as the mathematicians of the Bureau give to 
 longitudes. They literally ransack the whole king- 
 dom. At the first ray of hope all the post-offices 
 in Paris are alert. Sometimes the receiver of a mis- 
 sing letter is amazed at the network of scrawled di- 
 rections which covers both back and front of the 
 missive, — glorious vouchers for the administrative 
 persistency with which the post has been at work. 
 If a man undertook what the post accomplishes, he 
 would lose ten thousand francs in travel, time, and 
 money, to recover ten sous. The letter of the old 
 Lorrains, addressed to Monsieur Rogron of Provins 
 (who had then been dead a year) was conveyed by 
 
Pierrette, 19 
 
 the post in due time to Monsieur Rogron, son of the 
 deceased, a mercer in the rue Saint-Denis in Paris. 
 And this is where the postal spirit obtains its greatest 
 triumph. An heir is always more or less anxious to 
 know if he has picked up ever} r scrap of his inheritance, 
 if he has not overlooked a credit, or a trunk of old 
 clothes. The Treasury knows that. A letter addressed 
 to the late Rogron at Provins was certain to pique the 
 curiosity of Rogron, Jr., or Mademoiselle Rogron, the 
 heirs in Paris. Out of that human interest the Treas- 
 ury was able to earn sixty centimes. 
 
 These Rogrons, toward whom the old Lorrains, 
 though dreading to part with their dear little grand- 
 daughter, stretched their supplicating hands, became, 
 in this way, and most unexpectedly, the masters of 
 Pierrette's destiny. It is therefore indispensable to 
 explain both their antecedents and their character. 
 
20 Pierrette, 
 
 n. 
 
 THE ROGRONS. 
 
 Pere Rogron, that innkeeper of Provins to whom 
 old Auffray had married his daughter by his first wife, 
 was an individual with an inflamed face, a veiny nose, 
 and cheeks on which Bacchus had drawn his scarlet and 
 bulbous vine-marks. Though short, fat, and pot-bellied, 
 with stout legs and thick hands, he was gifted with the 
 shrewdness of the Swiss innkeepers, whom he re- 
 sembled. Certainly he was not handsome, and his wife 
 looked like him. Never was a couple better matched. 
 Rogron liked good living and to be waited upon by 
 ,pretty girls. He belonged to the class of egoists whose 
 behavior is brutal ; he gave way to his vices and did 
 their will openly in the face of Israel. Grasping, sel- 
 fish, without decency, and always gratifying his own 
 fancies, he devoured his earnings until the day when 
 his teeth failed him. Selfishness stayed by him. In 
 his old days he sold his inn, collected (as we have seen) 
 all he could of his late father-in-law's property, and went 
 to live in the little house in the square of Provins, 
 bought for a trifle from the widow of old Auffray, 
 Pierrette's grandmother. 
 
Pierrette. 21 
 
 Kogron and his wife had about two thousand francs 
 a year from twenty-seven lots of land in the neighbor- 
 hood of Provins, and from the sale of their inn for 
 twenty thousand. Old Auffray's house, though out of 
 repair, was inhabited just as it was by the Rogrons, — 
 old rats like wrack and ruin. Rogron himself took to 
 horticulture and spent his savings in enlarging the 
 garden ; he carried it to the river's edge between two 
 walls and built a sort of stone embankment across the 
 end, where aquatic nature, left to herself, displayed the 
 charms of her flora. 
 
 In the early years of their marriage the Rogrons 
 had a son and a daughter, both hideous ; for such human 
 beings degenerate. Put out to nurse at a low price, 
 these luckless children came home in due time, after the 
 worst of village training, — allowed to cry for hours after 
 their wet-nurse, who worked in the fields, leaving them 
 shut up to scream for her in one of those damp, dark, low 
 rooms which serve as homes for the French peasantry. 
 Treated thus, the features of the children coarsened ; 
 their voices grew harsh ; they mortified their mother's 
 vanity, and that made her strive to correct their bad 
 habits by a sternness which the severity of their father 
 converted through comparison to kindness. As a 
 general thing, they were left to run loose about the 
 stables and courtyards of the inn, or the streets of the 
 town ; sometimes they were whipped ; sometimes the}' 
 
22 Pierrette. 
 
 were sent, to get rid of them, to their grandfather 
 Auffray, who did not like them. The injustice the 
 Rogrons declared the old man did to their children, 
 justified them to their own minds in taking the greater 
 part of " the old scoundrel's " property. However, 
 Rogron did send his son to school, and did DU3 7 him a 
 man, one of his own cartmen, to save him from the 
 conscription. As soon as his daughter, Sylvie, was 
 thirteen, he sent her to Paris, to make her way as ap- 
 prentice in a shop. Two years later he despatched 
 his son, Jerome-Denis, to the same career. When his 
 friends the carriers and those who frequented the inn, 
 asked him what he meant to do with his children, 
 Pere Rogron explained his system with a conciseness 
 which, in view of that of most fathers, had the merit of 
 frankness. 
 
 " When they are old enough to understand me I 
 shall give 'em a kick and say : l Go and make your 
 own way in the world ! ' " he replied, emptying his 
 glass and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 
 Then he winked at his questioner with a knowing look. 
 " Hey ! hey ! they are no greater fools than I was," he 
 added. " My father gave me three kicks ; I shall only 
 give them one ; he put one louis into my hand ; I shall 
 put ten in theirs, therefore they '11 be better off than I 
 was. That 's the way to do. After I 'm gone, what 's 
 left will be theirs. The notaries can find them and give 
 
Pierrette. 23 
 
 it to them. What nonsense to bother one's self about 
 children. Mine owe me their life. I 've fed them, and I 
 don't ask anything from them, — I call that quits, hey, 
 neighbor? I began as a cartman, but that did n't prevent 
 my marrying the daughter of that old scoundrel Auffray." 
 Sylvie Rogron was sent (with six hundred francs for 
 her board) as apprentice to certain shopkeepers origi- 
 nally from Provins and now settled in Paris in the rue 
 Saint-Denis. Two years later she was " at par," as 
 they say ; she earned her own living ; at any rate her 
 parents paid nothing for her. That is what is called 
 being " at par" in the rue Saint-Denis. Sylvie had a 
 salary of four hundred francs. At nineteen years of 
 age she was independent. At twenty, she was the 
 second demoiselle in the Maison Julliard, wholesale 
 silk dealers at the " Chinese Worm " rue Saint-Denis. 
 The history of the sister was that of the brother. 
 Young Jerome-Denis Rogron entered the establishment 
 of one of the largest wholesale mercers in the same 
 street, the Maison Guepin, at the "Three Distaffs." 
 When Sylvie Rogron, aged twenty-one, had risen to be 
 forewoman at a thousand francs a year Jerome-Denis, 
 with even better luck, was head-clerk at eighteen, with 
 a salary of twelve hundred francs. 
 
 Brother and sister met on Sundays and fete-days, 
 which they passed in economical amusements ; they 
 dined out of Paris, and went to Saint-Cloud, Meudon, 
 
24 Pierrette. 
 
 Belleville, or Vincennes. Towards the close of the 
 } T ear 1815 they clubbed their savings, amounting to 
 about twenty thousand francs, earned by the sweat of 
 their brows, and bought of Madame Guenee the prop- 
 erty and good-will of her celebrated shop, the " Family 
 Sister," one of the largest retail establishments in the 
 quarter. Sylvie kept the books and did the writing. 
 Jer6me was master and head-clerk both. In 1821, 
 after five years' experience, competition became so 
 fierce that it was all the brother and sister could do to 
 carry on the business and maintain its reputation. 
 
 Though Sylvie was at this time scarcely forty, her nat- 
 ural ugliness, combined with hard work and a certain 
 crabbed look (caused as much by the conformation of 
 her features as by her cares), made her seem like a 
 woman of fifty. At thirty-eight J6r6me Rogron pre- 
 sented to the eyes of his customers the silliest face that 
 ever looked over a counter. His retreating forehead, 
 flattened by fatigue, was marked by three long wrinkles. 
 His grizzled hair, cut close, expressed in some indefin- 
 able way the stupidity of a cold-blooded animal. The 
 glance of his bluish eyes had neither flame nor thought 
 in it. His round, flat face excited no sympathy, nor 
 even a laugh on the lips of those who might be exam- 
 ining the varieties of the Parisian species ; on the con- 
 trary, it saddened them. He was, like his father, short 
 and fat, but his figure lacked the tatter's brutal obesity, 
 
Pierrette. 25 
 
 and showed, instead, an almost ridiculous debility. His 
 father's high color was changed in him to the livid flab- 
 biness peculiar to persons who live in close back-shops, 
 or in those railed cages called counting-rooms, for- 
 ever tying up bundles, receiving and making change, 
 snarling at the clerks, and repeating the same old 
 speeches to customers. 
 
 The small amount of brains possessed by the brother 
 and sister had been wholly absorbed in maintaining 
 their business, in getting and keeping money, and in 
 learning the special laws and usages of the Parisian 
 market. Thread, needles, ribbons, pins, buttons, tail- 
 ors' furnishings, in short, the enormous quantity of 
 things which go to make up a mercer's stock, had 
 taken all their capacity. Outside of their business they 
 knew absolutely nothing ; they were even ignorant of 
 Paris. To them the great city was merely a region 
 spreading around the Rue Saint-Denis. Their narrow 
 natures could see no field except the shop. They 
 were clever enough in nagging their clerks and their 
 young women and in proving them to blame. Their 
 happiness lay in seeing all hands busy at the counters, 
 exhibiting the merchandise, and folding it up again. 
 When they heard the six or eight voices of the young 
 mea and women glibly gabbling the consecrated phrases 
 by which clerks reply to the remarks of customers, the 
 day was fine to them, the weather beautiful ! But on 
 
26 Pierrette. 
 
 the really fine days, when the blue of the heavens 
 brightened all Paris, and the Parisians walked about 
 to enjoy themselves and cared for no "goods" but 
 those they carried on their back, the da} 7 was overcast 
 to the Rogrons. "Bad weather for sales," said that 
 pair of imbeciles. 
 
 The skill with which Rogron could tie up a parcel 
 made him an object of admiration to all his apprentices. 
 He could fold and tie and see all that happened in the 
 street and in the farthest recesses of the shop by the 
 time he handed the parcel to his customer with a 
 "Here it is, madame ; nothing else to-day?" But the 
 poor fool would have been ruined without his sister. 
 Sylvie had common-sense and a genius for trade. She 
 advised her brother in their purchases and would piti- 
 lessty send him to remote parts of France to save a 
 trifle of cost. The shrewdness which all women more 
 or less possess, not being employed in the service of 
 her heart, had drifted into that of speculation. A busi- 
 ness to pay for, — that thought was the mainspring 
 which kept the machine going and gave it an infernal 
 activity. 
 
 Rogron was really onty head-clerk ; he understood 
 nothing of his business as a whole ; self-interest, that 
 great motor of the mind, had failed in his case to in- 
 struct him. He was often aghast when his sister 
 ordered some article to be sold below cost, foreseeing 
 
Pierrette. 27 
 
 the end of its fashion ; later he admired her idiotically 
 for her cleverness. He reasoned neither ill nor well ; 
 he was simply incapable of reasoning at all ; but he 
 had the sense to subordinate himself to his sister, and 
 he did so from a consideration that was outside of the 
 business. "She is my elder," he said. Perhaps an 
 existence like his, always solitary, reduced to the sat- 
 isfaction of mere needs, deprived of money and all 
 pleasures in youth, may explain to physiologists and 
 thinkers the clownish expression of the face, the feeble- 
 ness of mind, the vacant silliness of the man. His 
 sister had steadily prevented him from marrying, afraid 
 perhaps to lose her power over him, and seeing only 
 a source of expense and injury in some woman who 
 would certainly be younger and undoubtedly less ugly 
 than herself. 
 
 Silliness has two ways of comporting itself; it talks, 
 or is silent. Silent silliness can be borne ; but Ro- 
 gron's silliness was loquacious. The man had a habit 
 of chattering to his clerks, explaining the minutiae of 
 the business, and ornamenting his talk with those 
 flat jokes which may be called the "chaff" of shop- 
 keeping. Rogron, listened to, of course, by his sub- 
 ordinates and perfectly satisfied with himself, had 
 come at last into possession of a phraseology of his 
 own. This chatterer believed himself an orator. The 
 necesshy of explaining to customers what they want, 
 
28 Pierrette. 
 
 of guessing at their desires, and giving them desires 
 for what they do not want, exercises the tongue of 
 all retail shop-keepers. The petty dealer acquires the 
 faculty of uttering words and sentences in which there 
 is absolutely no meaning, but which have a marked 
 success. He explains to his customers matters of 
 manufacture that they know nothing of; that alone 
 gives, him a passing superiority over them ; but take 
 him away from his thousand and one explanations 
 about his thousand and one articles, and he is, rela- 
 tively to thought, like a fish out of water in the sun. 
 
 Rogron and Sylvie, two mechanisms baptized by 
 mistake, did not possess, latent or active, the feelings 
 which give life to the heart. Their natures were shriv- 
 elled and harsh, hardened by toil, by privation, by 
 the remembrance of their sufferings during a long and 
 cruel apprenticeship to life. Neither of them com- 
 plained of their trials. They were not so much im- 
 placable as impracticable in their dealings with others 
 in misfortune. To them, virtue, honor, loyalty, all 
 human sentiments consisted solely in the payment of 
 their bills. Irritable and irritating, without feelings, 
 and sordid in their economy, the brother and sister 
 bore a dreadful reputation among the other merchants 
 of the rue Saint- Denis. Had it not been for their 
 connection with Provins, where they went three or 
 four times a year, when they could close the shop 
 
Pierrette. 29 
 
 for a day or two, they would have had no clerks or 
 young women. But old Rogron, their father, sent them 
 all the unfortunate young people of his neighborhood, 
 whose parents wished to start them in business in Paris. 
 He obtained these apprentices by boasting, out of vanity, 
 of his son's success. Parents, attracted by the prospect 
 of their children being well-trained and closely watched, 
 and also, by the hope of their succeeding, eventual^, 
 to the business, sent whichever child was most in the 
 way at home to the care of the brother and sister. 
 But no sooner had the clerks or the young Women 
 found a way of escape from that dreadful establish- 
 ment than they fled, with rejoicings that increased 
 the already bad name of the Rogrons. New victims 
 were supplied yearly by the indefatigable old father. 
 
 From the time she was fifteen, Sylvie Rogron, trained 
 to the simpering of a saleswoman, had two faces, — 
 the amiable face of the seller, the natural face of 
 a sour spinster. Her acquired countenance was a 
 marvellous bit of mimicry. She was all smiles. Her 
 voice, soft and wheedling, gave a commercial charm 
 to business. Her real face was that we have already 
 seen projecting from the half-opened blinds ; the mere 
 sight of her would have put to flight the most resolute 
 Cossack of 1815, much as that horde were said to 
 like all kinds of Frenchwomen. 
 
 When the letter from the Lorrains reached the 
 
30 Pierrette. 
 
 brother and sister, they were in mourning for their 
 father, from whom they inherited the house which 
 had been as good as stolen from Pierrette's grand- 
 mother, also certain lands bought by their father, 
 and certain moneys acquired by usurious loans and 
 mortgages to the peasantry, whose bits of ground the 
 old drunkard expected to possess. The yearly taking 
 of stock was just over. The price of the " Family 
 Sister" had, at last, been paid in full. The Rogrons 
 owned about sixty thousand francs' worth of merchan- 
 dise, forty thousand in a bank or in their cash-box, 
 and the value of their business. Sitting on a bench 
 covered with striped green Utrecht velvet placed in 
 a square recess just behind their private counter (the 
 counter of their forewoman being similar and directly 
 opposite) the brother and sister consulted as to what 
 they should do. All retail shopkeepers aspire to be- 
 come members of the bourgeoisie. By selling the 
 good-will of their business, the pair would have over 
 a hundred and fifty thousand francs, not counting the 
 inheritance from their father. B} r placing their present 
 available property in the public Funds, they would 
 each obtain about four thousand francs a year, and 
 by taking the proceeds of their business, when sold, 
 they could repair and improve the house they inherited 
 from their father, which would thus be a good in- 
 vestment. They could then go and live in a house 
 
Pierrette. 31 
 
 of their own in Provins. Their forewoman was the 
 daughter of a rich farmer at Donnemarie, burdened 
 with nine children, to whom he had endeavored to 
 give a good start in life, being aware that at his 
 death his property, divided into nine parts, would be 
 but little for any one of them. In five years, however, 
 the man had lost seven children, — a fact which made 
 the forewoman so interesting that Rogron had tried, 
 unsuccessfully, to get her to marry him ; but she 
 showed an aversion for her master which baffled his 
 manoeuvres. Besides, Mademoiselle Sylvie was not 
 in favor of the match; in fact, she steadily opposed 
 her brother's marriage, and sought, instead, to make 
 the shrewd young woman their successor. 
 
 No passing observer can form the least idea of the 
 cryptogamic existence of a certain class of shopkeepers ; 
 he looks at them and asks himself, " On what, and why, 
 do they live? whence have they come? where do they 
 go? " He is lost in such questions, but finds no answer 
 to them. To discover the feeble seed of poesy which 
 lies in those heads and fructifies in those lives, it is 
 necessary to dig into them ; and when we do that we 
 soon come to a thin subsoil beneath the surface. The 
 Parisian shopkeeper nurtures his soul on some hope or 
 other, more or less attainable, without which he would 
 doubtless perish. One dreams of building or manag- 
 ing a theatre ; another longs for the honors of may- 
 
32 Pierrette. 
 
 oralty; this one desires a country-house, ten miles 
 from Paris, with a so-called * park," which he will adorn 
 with statues of tinted plaster and fountains which squirt 
 mere threads of water, but on which he will spend 
 a mint of money ; others, again, dream of distinc- 
 tion and a high grade in the National Guard. Provins, 
 that terrestrial paradise, filled the brother and sister 
 with the fanatical longings which all the lovely towns of 
 France inspire in their inhabitants. Let us say it to 
 the gloiy of La Champagne, this . love is warranted. 
 Provins, one of the most charming towns in all France, 
 rivals Frangistan and the valley of Cashmere ; not only 
 does it contain the poesy of Saadi, the Persian Homer, 
 but it offers many pharmaceutical treasures to medical 
 science. The crusades brought roses from Jericho to 
 this enchanting valley, where by chance they gained 
 new charms while losing none of their colors. The 
 Provins roses are known the world over. But Provins 
 is not only the French Persia, it is also Baden, Aix, 
 Cheltenham, — for it has medicinal springs. This was 
 the spot which appeared from time to time before the 
 eyes of the two shopkeepers in the muddy regions of 
 Saint-Denis. 
 
 After crossing the gray plains which lie between La 
 Ferte-Gaucher and Provins, a desert and yet pro- 
 ductive, a desert of wheat, you reach a hill. Suddenly 
 3*ou behold at your feet a town watered by two rivers ; 
 
Pierrette. 33 
 
 at the feet of the rock on which you stand stretches a 
 verdant valley, full of enchanting lines and fugitive hori- 
 zons. If you come from Paris you will pass through 
 the whole length of Provins on the everlasting high- 
 road of France, which here skirts the hillside and 
 is encumbered with beggars and blind men, who will 
 follow you with their pitiful voices while you try to 
 examine the unexpected picturesqueness of the region. 
 If you come from Troyes you will approach the town 
 on the valley side. The chateau, the old town, and its 
 former ramparts are terraced on the hillside, the new 
 town is below. They go by the names of Upper and 
 Lower Provins. The upper is an airy town with steep 
 streets commanding fine views, surrounded by sunken 
 road-ways and ravines filled with chestnut trees which 
 gash the sides of the hill with their deep gulleys. 
 The upper town is silent, clean, solemn, surmounted by 
 the imposing ruins of the old chateau. The lower is a 
 town of mills, watered by the Voulzie and the Durtain, 
 two rivers of Brie, narrow, sluggish, and deep ; a town 
 of inns, shops, retired merchants ; filled with diligences, 
 travelling-carriages, and waggons. The two towns, or 
 rather this town with its historical memories, its melan- 
 choly ruins, the gayety of its valley, the romantic charm 
 of its ravines filled with tangled shrubbery and wild- 
 flowers, its rivers banked with gardens, excites the 
 love of all its children, who do as the Auvergnats, the 
 
 3 
 
34 Pierrette. 
 
 Savoyards, in fact, all French folks do, namely, leave 
 Provins to make their fortunes, and always return. 
 "Die in one's form," the proverb made for hares and 
 faithful souls, seems also the motto of a Provins native. 
 Thus the two Rogrons thought constantly of their 
 dear Provins. While Jerome sold his thread he saw 
 the Upper town ; as he piled up the cards on which were 
 buttons he contemplated the valley ; when he rolled 
 and unrolled his ribbons he followed the shining rivers. 
 Looking up at his shelves he saw the ravines where he 
 had often escaped his father's anger and gone a-nutting 
 or gathering blackberries. But the little square in the 
 Lower town was the chief object of his thoughts ; he 
 imagined how he could improve his house : he dreamed 
 of a new front, new bedrooms, a salon, a billiard-room, 
 a dining-room, and the kitchen garden out of which he 
 would make an English pleasure-ground, with lawns, 
 grottos, fountains, and statuary. The bedrooms at 
 present occupied by the brother and sister, on the 
 second floor of a house with three windows front and 
 six storeys high in the rue Saint-Denis, were furnished 
 with the merest necessaries, yet no one in Paris had 
 finer furniture than they — in fancy. When Jerome 
 walked the streets he stopped short, struck with ad- 
 miration at the handsome things in the upholsterers' 
 windows, and at the draperies he coveted for his 
 house. When he came home he would say to his 
 
Pierrette. 35 
 
 sister : "I found in such a shop, such and such a 
 piece of furniture that will just do for the salon." The 
 next day he would buy another piece, and another, and 
 so on. He rejected, the following month, the articles of 
 the month before. The Budget itself, could not have 
 paid for his architectural schemes. He wanted every- 
 thing he saw, but abandoned each thing for the last 
 thing. When he saw the balconies of new houses, 
 when he studied external ornamentation, he thought all 
 such things, mouldings, carvings, etc., out of place in 
 Paris. " Ah ! " he would say, u those fine things would 
 look much better at Provins." When he stood on his 
 doorstep leaning against the lintel, digesting his morn- 
 ing meal, with a vacant eye, the mercer was gazing at 
 the house of his fancy gilded by the sun of his dream ; 
 he walked in his garden ; he heard the jet from his 
 fountain falling in pearly drops upon a slab of lime- 
 stone ; he played on his own billiard-table ; he gathered 
 his own flowers. 
 
 Sylvie, on the other hand, was thinking so deepty, 
 pen in hand, that she forgot to scold the clerks ; she 
 was receiving the bourgoisie of Provins, she was look- 
 ing at herself in the mirrors of her salon, and admiring 
 the beauties of a marvellous cap. The brother and 
 sister began to think the atmosphere of the rue Saint- 
 Denis unhealthy, and the smell of the mud In the 
 markets made them long for the fragrance of the 
 
36 Pierrette. 
 
 Provins roses. They were the victims of a genuine 
 nostalgia, and also of a monomania, frustrated at 
 present by the necessity of selling their tapes and 
 bobbins before they could leave Paris. The promised 
 land of the valle}- of Provins attracted these Hebrews 
 all the more because they had really suffered, and for 
 a long time, as they crossed breathlessly the sandy 
 wastes of a mercer's business. 
 
 The Lorrains' letter reached them in the midst of 
 meditations inspired by this glorious future. They 
 knew scarcely anything about their cousin, Pierrette 
 Lorrain. Their father got possession of the Auffray 
 property after the}^ left home, and the old man said 
 little to any one of his business affairs. They hardly 
 remembered their aunt Lorrain. It took an hour of 
 genealogical discussion before they made her out to be 
 the younger sister of their own mother by the second 
 marriage of their grandfather Auffray. It immediately 
 struck them that this second marriage had been fatally 
 injurious to their interests by dividing the Auffray 
 property 'between the two daughters. In times past 
 they had heard their father, who was given to sneering, 
 complain of it. 
 
 The brother and sister considered the application of 
 the Lorrains from the point of view of such reminis- 
 cences, which were not at all favorable for Pierrette. 
 To take charge of an orphan, a girl, a cousin, who 
 
Pierrette. 37 
 
 might become their legal heir in case neither of them 
 married, — this was a matter that needed discussion. 
 The question was considered and debated under all its 
 aspects. In the first place, they had never seen Pier- 
 rette. Then, what a trouble it would be to have a 
 young girl to look after. Wouldn't it commit them to 
 some obligations towards her? Could they send the 
 girl away if they did not like her? Besides, wouldn't 
 they have to many her ? and if Jer6me found a yoke- 
 mate among the heiresses of Provins they ought to 
 keep all their property for his children. A yokemate 
 for J6r6me, according to Sylvie, meant a stupid, rich 
 and ugly girl who would let herself be governed. 
 They decided to refuse the Lorrain request. Sylvie 
 agreed to write the answer. Business being rather 
 urgent just then she delayed writing, and the fore- 
 woman coming forward with an offer for the stock and 
 good-will of the "Family Sister,'' which the brother 
 and sister accepted, the matter went entirely out of 
 the old maid's mind. 
 
 Sylvie Rogron and her brother departed for Provins 
 four years before the time when the coming of Brigaut 
 threw such excitement into Pierrette's life. But the 
 doings of the pair after their arrival at Provins are as 
 necessary to relate as their life in Paris ; for Provins 
 was destined to be not less fatal to Pierrette than the 
 commercial antecedents of her cousins ! 
 
38 Pierrette. 
 
 III. 
 
 PATHOLOGY OF RETIRED MERCERS. 
 
 When the petty shopkeeper who has come to Paris 
 from the provinces returns to the provinces from Paris 
 he brings with him a few ideas ; then he loses them in 
 the habits and ways of provincial life into which he 
 plunges, and his reforming notions leave him. From 
 this there do result, however, certain trifling, slow, 
 successive changes by which Paris scratches the sur- 
 face of the provincial towns. This process marks the 
 transition of the ex-shopkeeper into the substantial 
 country bourgeois, but it acts like an illness upon him. 
 No retail shopkeeper can pass with impunity from his 
 perpetual chatter into dead silence, from his Parisian 
 activity to the stillness of provincial life. "When these 
 worthy persons have laid by property they spend a 
 portion of it on some desire over which they have long 
 brooded and into which the}' now turn their remaining 
 impulses, no longer restrained by force of will. Those 
 who have not been nursing a fixed idea either travel 
 or rush into the political interests of their municipalit}-. 
 
Pierrette. 39 
 
 Others take to hunting or fishing and torment their 
 farmers or tenants ; others again become usurers or 
 stock-jobbers. As for the scheme of the Rogrons, 
 brother and sister, we know what that was ; they had 
 to satisfy an imperious desire to handle the trowel and 
 remodel their old house into a charming new one. 
 
 This fixed idea produced upon the square of Lower 
 Provins the front of the building which Brigaut had 
 been examining ; also the interior arrangements of the 
 house and its handsome furniture. The contractor did 
 not drive a nail without consulting the owners, without 
 requiring them to sign the plans and specifications, 
 without explaining to them at full length and in every 
 detail the nature of each article under discussion, where 
 it was manufactured, and what were its various prices. 
 As to the choicer things, each, they were told, had been 
 used by Monsieur Tiphaine, or Madame Julliard, or 
 Monsieur the mayor, the notables of the place. The 
 idea of having things done as the rich bourgeois of 
 Provins did them carried the day for the contractor. 
 
 " Oh, if Monsieur Garceland has it in his house, put 
 it in," said Mademoiselle Rogron. "It must be all 
 right ; his taste is good." 
 
 " Sylvie, see, he wants us to have ovolos in the cor- 
 nice of the corridor." 
 
 4 ' Do you call those ovolos ? " 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
40 Pierrette. 
 
 " What an odd name ! I never heard it before." 
 
 " But you have seen the thing ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you understand Latin ? " 
 
 « No." 
 
 " Well, it means eggs — from the Latin ovum." 
 
 1 ' What queer fellows you are, you architects!" 
 cried Rogron. "It is stepping on egg-shells to deal 
 with you." 
 
 " Shall we paint the corridor?" asked the builder. 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! " cried Sylvie. " That would 
 be five hundred francs more ! " 
 
 " Oh, but the salon and the staircase are too pretty 
 not to have the corridor decorated too," said the man. 
 "That little Madame Lesourd had hers painted last 
 year." 
 
 " And now her husband,, as king's attorney, is obliged 
 to leave Provins." 
 
 " Ah, he '11 be chief justice some of these days," said 
 the builder. 
 
 " How about Monsieur Tiphaine ? " 
 
 " Monsieur Tiphaine ? he 's got a pretty wife and is 
 sure to get on. He '11 go to Paris. Shall we paint the 
 corridor ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Rogron. u The Lesourds must be 
 made to see that we are as good as they." 
 
 The first year after the Rogrons returned to Provins 
 
Pierrette. 41 
 
 was entirely taken up by such discussions, by the pleas- 
 ure of watching the workmen, by the surprise occa- 
 sioned to the townspeople and the replies to questions 
 of all kinds which resulted therefrom, and also by the 
 attempts made by Sylvie and her brother to be socially 
 intimate with the principal families of Provins. 
 
 The Rogrons had never gone into any society ; they 
 had never left their shop, knowing absolutely no one in 
 Paris, and now they were athirst for the pleasures of 
 social life. On their arrival in Provins they found their 
 former masters in Paris (long since returned to the 
 provinces), Monsieur and Madame Julliard, lately of 
 the " Chinese Worm," their children and grandchildren ; 
 the Gu6pin family, or rather the Guepin clan, the 
 youngest scion of which now kept the "Three Dis- 
 taffs ; " and thirdly, Madame Gu£n£e from whom they 
 had purchased the " Family Sister," and whose three 
 daughters were married and settled in Provins. These 
 three races, Julliard, Guepin, and Gu6n6e, had spread 
 through the town like dog-grass through a lawn. The 
 mayor, Monsieur Garceland, was the son-in-law of 
 Monsieur Guepin ; the curate, Abbe Peroux, was own 
 brother to Madame Julliard ; the judge, Monsieur 
 Tiphaine junior, was brother to Madame Guenee, who 
 signed herself " n£e Tiphaine." 
 
 The queen of the town was the beautiful Madame 
 Tiphaine junior, only daughter of Madame Roguin, 
 
42 Pierrette. 
 
 the rich wife of a former notary in Paris, whose name 
 was never mentioned. Clever, delicate, and pretty, 
 married in the provinces to please her mother, who for 
 special reasons did not want her with her, and took her 
 'from a convent only a few days before the wedding, 
 Melanie Tiphaine considered herself an exile in Provins, 
 where she behaved to admiration. Handsomely dowered, 
 she still had hopes. As for Monsieur Tiphaine, his old 
 father had made to his eldest daughter Madame Guenee 
 such advances on her inheritance that an estate worth 
 eight thousand francs a year, situated within fifteen 
 miles of Provins, was to come wholly to him. Conse- 
 quently, the Tiphaines would possess, sooner or later, 
 some forty thousand francs a year, and were not 
 " badly off," as they say. The one overwhelming de- 
 sire of the beautiful Madame Tiphaine was to get 
 Monsieur Tiphaine elected deputy. As deputy he would 
 become a judge in Paris ; and she was firmly resolved to 
 push him up into the Royal courts. For these reasons 
 she tickled all vanities and strove to please all parties ; 
 and — what is far more difficult — she succeeded. Twice 
 a week she received the bourgeoisie of Provins at her 
 bouse in the Upper town. This intelligent young 
 woman of twenty had not as yet made a single blunder 
 or misstep on the slippery path she bad taken. Six- 
 gratified everybody's self-love, and petted their hobbies ; 
 serious with the serious, a girl with girls, instinctively a 
 
PUrretU. $M 
 
 mother with mother. gay with young wives and dis- 
 posed to help them, gracious to all, — in short, a pearl, 
 a treasure, the pride of Provins. She had never yet 
 said a word of her intentions and wishes, bat all the 
 electors of Provins were awaiting the time when their 
 dear Monsieur Tiphaine had reached the required age 
 for nomination. Every man in the place, certain of 
 his own talents, regarded the future deputy as his par- 
 tienlar friend, his protector. Of course, Monsieur 
 Tiphaine would attain to honors ; he would be Keeper 
 of the Seals, and then, what wouldn't he do for 
 Provins ! 
 
 Stu'h were the pleasant means by which Madame 
 Tiphaine had come to rale over the little town. Ma- 
 dame Guenee, Monsieur Tiphaine's sister, after having 
 married her eldest daughter to Monsieur Lesoord, 
 prosecuting attorney, her second to Monsieur Martener, 
 the doctor, and the third to Monsieur Auffray, the 
 notary, had herself married Monsieur Galardon. the 
 collector. Mother and daughters all considered Mon- 
 sieur Tiphaine as the richest and ablest man in the 
 family. The prosecuting attorney had the strong- 
 est interest in sending his uncle to Paris, expecting 
 to step into his shoes as judge of the local court of 
 Provins. The four ladies formed a sort of court 
 round Madame Tiphaine, whose ideas and advice they 
 followed on all occasions. Monsieur J ulliard, the 
 
44 Pierrette. 
 
 son of the old merchant, who had married the only 
 daughter of a rich farmer, set up a sudden, secret, 
 and disinterested passion for Madame Tiphaine, that 
 angel descended from the Parisian skies. The clever 
 Melanie, too clever to involve herself with a Julliard, 
 but quite capable of keeping him in the condition 
 of Amadis and making the most of his folly, advised 
 him to start a journal, intending herself to play the 
 part of Egeria. For the last two years, therefore, 
 Julliard, possessed by his romantic passion, had pub- 
 lished the said newspaper, called the " Bee-hive," 
 which contained articles literary, archaeological, and 
 medical, written in the family. The advertisements 
 paid expenses. The subscriptions, two hundred in 
 all, made the profits. Every now and then melan- 
 choly verses, totally incomprehensible in La Brie, ap- 
 peared, addressed, " To Her ! ! ! " with three exclam- 
 ation marks. The clan Julliard was thus united to 
 the other clans, and the salon of Madame Tiphaine 
 became, naturally, the first in the town. The few 
 aristocrats who lived in Provins were, of course, 
 apart, and formed a single salon in the Upper town, 
 at the house of the old Comtesse de Breautey. 
 
 During the first six months of their transplantation, 
 the Rogrons, favored by their former acquaintance 
 with several of these people, were received, first by 
 Madame Julliard the elder, and by the former Madame 
 
Pierrette. 45 
 
 Gu6n£e, now Madame Galardon (from whom they 
 had bought their business), and next, after a good 
 deal of difficult}', by Madame Tiphaine. All parties 
 wished to study the Rogrons before admitting them. 
 It was difficult, of course, to keep out merchants of 
 the rue Saint-Denis, originally from Provins, who had 
 returned to the town to spend their fortunes. Still, 
 the object of all society is to amalgamate persons 
 of equal wealth, education, manners, customs, accom- 
 plishments, and character. Now the Guepins, Guenees, 
 and Julliards had a better position among the bour- 
 geoisie than the Rogrons, whose father had been held 
 in contempt on account of his private life, and his 
 conduct in the matter of the Auffray property, — the 
 facts of which were known to the notary Auffra}-, 
 Madame Galardon's son-in-law. 
 
 In the social life of these people, to which Madame 
 Tiphaine had given a certain tone of elegance, all was 
 homogeneous ; the component parts understood each 
 other, knew each other's characters, and behaved and 
 conversed in a manner that was agreeable to all. The 
 Rogrons flattered themselves that being received by 
 Monsieur Gareeland, the mayor, they would soon be 
 on good terms with all the best families in the town. 
 Sylvie applied herself to learn boston. Rogron, in- 
 capable of playing a game, twirled his thumbs and 
 had nothing to say except to discourse on his new 
 
46 Pierrette. 
 
 house. Words seemed to choke him ; he would get 
 up, try to speak, become frightened, and sit down 
 again, with comical distortion of the lips. Sylvie 
 naively betrayed her natural self at cards. Sharp, 
 irritable, whining when she lost, insolent when she 
 won, nagging and quarrelsome, she annoyed her part- 
 ners as much as her adversaries, and became the 
 scourge of society. And yet, possessed by a silly, 
 unconcealed ambition, Rogron and his sister were bent 
 on playing a part in the society of a little town already 
 in possession of a close corporation of twelve allied 
 families. Allowing that the restoration of their house 
 had cost them thirt} T thousand francs, the brother and 
 sister possessed between them at least ten thousand 
 francs a year. This they considered wealth, and with 
 it they endeavored to impress society, which imme- 
 diately took the measure of their vulgarity, crass ig- 
 norance, and foolish envy. On the evening when they 
 were presented to the beautiful Madame Tiphaine, 
 who had already eyed them at Madame Garceland's 
 and at Madame Julliard the elder's, the queen of the 
 town remarked to Julliard junior, who stayed a few 
 moments after the rest of the company to talk with 
 her and her husband : — 
 
 "You all seem to be taken with those Rogrons." 
 " No, no," said Amadis, " they bore my mother 
 and annoy my wife. When Mademoiselle Sylvie was 
 
Pierrette. 47 
 
 apprenticed, thirty years ago, to my father, none of 
 them could endure her." 
 
 " I have a great mind," said Madame Tiphaine, 
 putting her pretty foot on the bar of the fender, "to 
 make it understood that my salon is not an inn." 
 
 Julliard raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if to say, 
 "Good heavens? what wit, what intellect! " 
 
 "I wish my society to be select; and it certainly 
 will not be if I admit those Rogrons." 
 
 "They have neither heart, nor mind, nor manners ; " 
 said Monsieur Tiphaine. " If, after selling thread for 
 twenty years, as my sister did for example — " 
 
 " Your sister, my dear," said his wife in a paren- 
 thesis, " cannot be out of place in any salon." 
 
 " — if," he continued, " people are stupid enough not 
 to throw off the shop and polish their manners, if they 
 don't know any better than to mistake the Counts of 
 Champagne for the accounts of a wine-shop, as Rogron 
 did this evening, they had better, in my opinion, stay 
 at home." 
 
 "They are simply impudent," said Julliard. "To 
 hear them talk you would suppose there was no other 
 handsome house in Provins but theirs. They want to 
 crush us ; and after all, they have hardly enough to 
 live on." 
 
 " If it was only the brother," said Madame Tiphaine, 
 " one might put up with him ; he is not so aggressive. 
 
48 Pierrette. 
 
 Give him a Chinese puzzle and he will sta}' in a 
 corner quietly enough ; it would take him a whole 
 winter to find it out. But Mademoiselle Sylvie, with 
 that voice like a hoarse Iryena and those lobster-claws 
 of hands ! Don't repeat all this, Julliard." 
 
 When Julliard had departed the little woman said to 
 her husband : — 
 
 "I have aborigines enough whom I am forced to 
 receive ; these two will fairly kill me. With your per- 
 mission, I shall deprive myself of their society." 
 
 "You are mistress in your own house," replied he ; 
 " but that will make enemies. The Rogrons will fling 
 themselves into the opposition, which hitherto has had 
 no real strength in Provins. That Rogron is already 
 intimate with Baron Gouraud and the lawyer Vinet." 
 
 " Then," said Melanie, laughing, " they will do you 
 some service. Where there are no opponents, there is 
 no triumph. A liberal conspirac}', an illegal cabal, a 
 struggle of any kind, will bring you into the foreground." 
 
 The justice looked at his young wife with a sort of 
 alarmed admiration. 
 
 The next day it was whispered about that the 
 Rogrons had not altogether succeeded in Madame 
 Tiphaine's salon. That lady's speech about an inn was 
 immenseh' admired. It was a whole month before she 
 returned Mademoiselle Sylvie's visit. Insolence of 
 this kind is very much noticed in the provinces. 
 
Pierrette. 49 
 
 During the evening which Sylvie had spent at 
 Madame Tiphaine's a disagreeable scene occurred be- 
 tween herself and old Madame Julliard while playing 
 boston, apropos of a trick which Sylvie declared the old 
 lady had made her lose on purpose ; for the old maid, 
 who liked to trip others, could never endure the same 
 game on herself. The next time she was invited out 
 the mistress took care to make up the card-tables before 
 she arrived ; so that Sylvie was reduced to wandering 
 from table to table as an onlooker, the players glancing 
 at her with scornful eyes. At Madame Julliard senior's 
 house, they played whist, a game Sylvie did not know. 
 
 The old maid at last understood that she was under a 
 ban ; but she had no conception of the reason of it. 
 She fancied herself an object of jealousy to all these 
 persons. After a time she and her brother received 
 no invitations, but they still persisted in paying evening 
 visits. Satirical persons made fun of them, — not spite- 
 fully, but amusingly ; inveigling them to talk absurdly 
 about the eggs in their cornice, and their wonderful 
 cellar of wine, the like of which was not in Provins. 
 
 Before long the Rogron house was completely fin- 
 ished, and the brother and sister then resolved to give 
 several sumptuous dinners, as much to return the 
 civilities they had received as to exhibit their luxury. 
 The invited guests accepted from curiosity only. The 
 first dinner was given to the leading personages of the 
 
50 Pierrette. 
 
 town ; to Monsieur and Madame Tiphaine, with whom, 
 however, the Rogrons had never dined ; to Monsieur 
 and Madame Julliard, senior and junior ; to Monsieur 
 Lesourd, Monsieur le cure, and Monsieur and Madame 
 Galardon. It was one of those interminable provincial 
 dinners, where you sit at table from five to nine o'clock. 
 Madame Tiphaine had introduced into Provins the Par- 
 isian custom of taking leave as soon as coffee had been 
 served. On this occasion she had company at home and 
 was anxious to get away. The Rogrons accompanied 
 her husband and herself to the street door, and when they 
 returned to the salon, disconcerted at not being able to 
 keep their chief guests, the rest of the party were 
 preparing to imitate Madame Tiphaine's fashion with 
 cruel provincial promptness. 
 
 " They won't see our salon lighted up," said Sylvie, 
 "and that's the show of the house." 
 
 The Rogrons had counted on surprising their guests. 
 It was the first time any one had been admitted to 
 the now celebrated house, and the company assembled 
 at Madame Tiphaine's was eagerly awaiting her opinion 
 of the marvels of the " Rogron palace." 
 
 "Well!" cried little Madame Martener, "you've 
 seen the Louvre ; tell us all about it." 
 
 "All? Well, it would be like the dinner, — not 
 much." 
 
 "But do describe it." 
 
Pierrette. 51 
 
 " Well, to begin with, that front door, the gilded 
 grating of which we have all admired," said Madame 
 Tiphaine, "opens upon a long corridor which divides 
 the house unequally ; on the right side there is one 
 window, on the other, two. At the garden end, the 
 corridor opens with a glass door upon a portico with 
 steps to the lawn, where there 's a sun dial and a 
 plaster statue of Spartacus, painted to imitate bronze. 
 Behind the kitchen, the builder has put the staircase, 
 and a sort of larder which we were spared the sight 
 of. The staircase, painted to imitate black marble 
 with yellow veins, turns upon itself like those you 
 see in cafes leading from the ground-floor to the 
 entresol. The balustrade, of walnut with brass or- 
 naments and dangerously slight, was pointed out to 
 us as one of the seven wonders of the world. The 
 cellar stairs run under it. On the other side of the 
 corridor is the dining-room, which communicates by 
 folding-doors with a salon of equal size, the windows 
 of which look on the garden." 
 
 "Dear me, is there no ante-chamber?" asked 
 Madame Auffray. 
 
 " The corridor, full of draughts, answers for an ante- 
 chamber," replied Madame Tiphaine. " Our friends 
 have had, they assured us, the eminently national, 
 liberal, constitutional, and patriotic feeling to use 
 none but French woods in the house ; so the floor 
 
52 Pierrette. 
 
 in the dining-room is chestnut, the sideboards, tables, 
 and chairs, of the same. White calico window-cur- 
 tains, with red borders, are held back by vulgar red 
 straps ; these magnificent draperies run on wooden 
 curtain rods ending in brass lion's-paws. Above one 
 of the sideboards hangs a dial suspended by a sort 
 of napkin in gilded bronze, — an idea that seemed to 
 please the Rogrons hugel}'. They tried to make me 
 admire the invention ; all I could manage to say was 
 that if it was ever proper to wrap a napkin round 
 a dial it was certainly in a dining-room. On the 
 sideboard were two huge lamps like those on the 
 counter of a restaurant. Above the other sideboard 
 hung a barometer, excessively ornate, which seems 
 to play a great part in their existence ; Rogron gazed 
 at it as he might at his future wife. Between the 
 two windows is a white porcelain stove in a niche over- 
 loaded with ornament. The walls glow with a mag- 
 nificent paper, crimson and gold, such as you see 
 in the same restaurants, where, no doubt, the Rogrons 
 chose it. Dinner was served on white and gold china, 
 with a dessert service of light blue with green flowers ; 
 but they showed us another service in earthenware 
 for everyday use. Opposite to each sideboard was 
 a large cupboard containing linen. All was clean, 
 new, and horribly sharp in tone. However, I admit 
 the dining-room; it has some character, though dis- 
 
Pierrette. 53 
 
 agreeable ; it represents that of the masters of the 
 house. But there is no enduring the five engravings 
 that hang on the walls ; the Minister of the Interior 
 ought really to frame a law against them. One was 
 Poniatowski jumping into the Elster; the others, 
 Napoleon pointing a cannon, the defence at Clichy, 
 and the two Mazeppas, all in gilt frames of the vul- 
 garest description, — fit to carry off the prize of disgust. 
 Oh ! how much I prefer Madame Julliard's pastels 
 of fruit, those excellent Louis XV. pastels, which 
 are in keeping with the old dining-room and its gray 
 panels, — defaced by age, it is true, but they possess 
 the true provincial characteristics that go so well with 
 old family silver, precious china, and our simple habits. 
 The provinces are the provinces ; they are only ridicu- 
 lous when they mimic Paris. I prefer this old salon 
 of my husband's forefathers, with its heavy curtains 
 of green and white damask, the Louis XV. mantel- 
 piece, the twisted pier-glasses, the old mirrors with 
 their beaded mouldings, and the venerable card-tables. 
 Yes, I prefer my old Sevres vases in royal blue, 
 mounted on copper, my clock with those impossible 
 flowers, that rococco chandelier, and the tapestried 
 furniture, to all the finery of the Rogron salon." 
 
 " What is the salon like?" said Monsieur Martener, 
 delighted with the praise the handsome Parisian be- 
 stowed so adroitly on the provinces. 
 
54 Pierrette. 
 
 " As for the salon, it is all red, — the red Made- 
 moiselle Sylvie turns when she loses at cards." 
 
 M Sylvan-red," said Monsieur Tiphaine, whose spark- 
 ling saying long remained in the vocabulary of Provins. 
 
 " Window-curtains, red; furniture, red; mantel- 
 piece, red, veined yellow, candlelabra and clock ditto 
 mounted on bronze, common and heavy in design, — 
 Roman standards with Greek foliage ! Above the clock 
 is that inevitable good-natured lion which looks at you 
 with a simper, the lion of ornamentation, with a big 
 ball under his feet, symbol of the decorative lion, who 
 passes his life holding a black ball, — exactlj- like a 
 deputy of the Left. Perhaps it is meant as a consti- 
 tutional myth. The face of the clock is curious. The 
 glass over the chimney is framed in that new fashion 
 of applied mouldings which is so trumpery and vulgar. 
 From the ceiling hangs a chandelier carefully wrapped 
 in green muslin, and rightly too, for it is in the 
 worst taste, the sharpest tint of bronze with hideous 
 ornaments. The walls are covered with a red flock 
 paper to imitate velvet inclosed in panels, each panel 
 decorated with a chromo-lithograph in one of those 
 frames festooned with stucco flowers to represent 
 wood-carving. The furniture, in cashmere and elm- 
 wood, consists, with classic uniformity, of two sofas, 
 two easy-chairs, two armchairs, and six common chairs. 
 A vase in alabaster, called a la Medicis, kept under 
 
Pierrette. 55 
 
 glass stands on a table between the windows ; before the 
 windows, which are draped with magnificent red silk 
 curtains and lace curtains under them, are card-tables. 
 The carpet is Aubusson, and you may be sure the 
 Rogrons did not fail to lay hands on that most vulgar 
 of patterns, large flowers on a red ground. The room 
 looks as if no one ever lived there ; there are no 
 books, no engravings, none of those little knick-knacks 
 we all have lying about," added Madame Tiphaine, 
 glancing at her own table covered with fashionable 
 trifles, albums, and little presents given to her by 
 friends; " and there are no flowers, — it is all cold 
 and barren, like Mademoiselle Sylvie herself. Buffon 
 says the* style is the man, and certainly salons have 
 styles of their own." 
 
 From this sketch everybody can see the sort of house 
 the brother and sister lived in, though they can never 
 imagine the absurdities into which a clever builder 
 dragged the ignorant pair, — new inventions, fantastic 
 ornaments, a system for preventing smoky chimneys, 
 another for preventing damp walls ; painted marquetry 
 panels on the- staircase, colored glass, superfine locks, 
 — in short, all those vulgarities which make a house ex- 
 pensive and gratify the bourgeois taste. 
 
 No one chose to visit the Rogrons, whose social plans 
 thus came to nothing. Their invitations were refused 
 under various excuses, — the evenings were already en- 
 
56 Pierrette. 
 
 gaged to Madame Garceland and the other ladies of the 
 Provins world. The Rogrons had supposed that all 
 that was required to gain a position in society was to 
 give a few dinners. But no one any longer accepted 
 them, except a few young men who went to make fun 
 of their host and hostess, and certain diners-out who 
 went everywhere. 
 
 Frightened at the dead loss of forty thousand francs 
 swallowed up without profit in what she called her 
 " dear house." Sylvie now set to work to recover it by 
 economy. She gave no more dinners, which had cost 
 her forty or fifty francs without the wines, and did not 
 fulfil her social hopes, hopes that are as hard to 
 realize in the provinces as in Paris. She sent away 
 her cook, took a country-girl to do the menial work, 
 and did her own cooking, as she said, " for pleasure." 
 
 Fourteen months after their return to Provins, the 
 brother and sister had fallen into a solitary and wholly 
 unoccupied condition. Their banishment from society 
 roused in Sj 7 lvie's heart a dreadful hatred against the 
 Tiphaines, Julliards and all the other members of the 
 social world of Provins, which she called " the clique," 
 and with whom her personal relations became extremely 
 cold. She would gladly have set up a rival clique, but 
 the lesser bourgeoisie was made up of either small 
 shopkeepers who were only free on Sundays and fete- 
 days, or smirched individuals like the lawyer Vinet and 
 
Pierrette. 57 
 
 Doctor Ne>aud, and wholly inadmissible Bonapartists 
 like Baron Gouraud, with whom, however, Rogron 
 thoughtlessly allied himself, though the upper bour- 
 geoisie had warned him against them. 
 
 The brother and sister were, therefore, forced to sit 
 by the fire of the stove in the dining-room, talking over 
 their former business, trying to recall the faces of their 
 customers and other matters they had intended to for- 
 get. By the end of the second winter ennui weighed 
 heavily on them. They did not know how to get 
 through each day ; sometimes as they went to bed the 
 words escaped them, "There's another over!" They 
 dragged out the morning by staying in bed, and dress- 
 ing slowly. Rogron shaved himself every day, exam- 
 ined his face, consulted his sister on any changes he 
 thought he saw there, argued with the servant about 
 the temperature of his hot water, wandered into the 
 garden, looked to see if the shrubs were budding, sat 
 at the edge of the water where he had built himself a 
 kiosk, examined the joinery of his house, — had it 
 sprung? had the walls settled, the panels cracked? 
 or he would come in fretting about a sick hen, and 
 complaining to his sister, who was nagging the servant 
 as she set the table, of the dampness which was coming 
 out in spots upon the plaster. The barometer was 
 Rogron's most useful bit of property. He consulted it 
 at all hours, tapped it familiarly like a friend, saying : 
 
58 Pierrette. 
 
 '• Vile weather ! n to which his sister would reply, 
 M Pooh ! it is only seasonable." If an}' one called to 
 see him the excellence of that instrument was his chief 
 topic of conversation. 
 
 Breakfast took up some little time ; with what delib- 
 eration those two human beings masticated their food ! 
 Their digestions were perfect; cancer of the stomach 
 was not to be dreaded hy them. They managed to get 
 along till twelve o'clock by reading the " Bee-hive " 
 and the " Constitutional." The cost of subscribing to 
 the Parisian paper was shared by Vinet the lawyer, and 
 Baron Gouraud. Rogron himself carried the paper to 
 Gouraud, who had been a colonel and lived on the 
 square, and whose long yarns were Rogron's delight; 
 the latter sometimes puzzled over the warnings he had 
 received, and asked himself how such a lively com- 
 panion could be dangerous. He was fool enough to 
 tell the colonel he had been warned against him, and 
 to repeat all the u clique "had said. God knows how 
 the colonel, who feared no one, and was equally to be 
 dreaded with pistols or a sword, gave tongue about 
 Madame Tiphaine and her Amadis, and the ministerial- 
 ists of the Upper town, persons capable of any villany 
 to get places, and who counted the votes at elections 
 to suit themselves, etc. 
 
 About two o'clock Rogron started for a little walk. 
 He was quite happy if some shopkeeper standing 
 
Pierrette. 59 
 
 on the threshold of his door would stop him and 
 sa}r, "Well, pere Rogron, how goes it with you?" 
 Then he would talk, and ask for news, and gather all 
 the gossip of the town. He usually went as far as the 
 Upper town, sometimes to the ravines, according to 
 the weather. Occasionally he would meet old men 
 taking their walks abroad like himself. Such meetings 
 were joyful events to him. There happened to be in 
 Provins a few men weary of Parisian life, quiet scholars 
 who lived with their books. Fancy the bewilderment 
 of the ignorant Rogron when he heard a deputy-judge 
 named Desfondrilles, more of an archaeologist than a 
 magistrate, saying to old Monsieur Martener, a really 
 learned man, as he pointed to the valley : — 
 
 " Explain to me why the idlers of Europe go to Spa 
 instead of coming to Provins, when the springs here 
 have a superior curative value recognized by the 
 French faculty, — a potential virtue worthy of the medi- 
 cinal properties of our roses." 
 
 " That is one of the caprices of caprice," said the 
 old gentleman. " Bordeaux wine was unknown a hun- 
 dred years ago. Marechal de Richelieu, one of the noted 
 men of the last century, the French Alcibiades, was ap- 
 pointed governor ofGu} T enne. His lungs were diseased, 
 and, heaven knows why! the wine of the country 
 did him good and he recovered. Bordeaux h.stantly 
 made a hundred millions ; the marshal widened its 
 
60 Pierrette. 
 
 territory to Angouleme, to Cahors, — in short, to over a 
 hundred miles of circumference ! it is hard to tell where 
 the Bordeaux vineyards end. And yet they haven't 
 erected an equestrian statue to the marshal in Bor- 
 deaux ! 
 
 4 'Ah! if anything of that kind happens to Provins," 
 said Monsieur Desfondrilles, " let us hope that some- 
 where in the Upper or Lower town they will set up a 
 bas-relief of the head of Monsieur Opoix, the re-dis- 
 coverer of the mineral waters of Provins." 
 
 4 'My dear friend, the revival of Provins is impos- 
 sible," replied Monsieur Martener; "the town was 
 made bankrupt long ago." 
 
 " What ! " cried Rogron, opening his eyes very wide. 
 
 " It was once a capital, holding its own against 
 Paris in the twelfth century, when the Comtes de 
 Champagne held their court here, just as King Rene" 
 held his in Provence," replied the man of learning ; "for 
 in those days civilization, gayety, poesy, elegance, and 
 women, in short all social splendors, were not found 
 exclusively in Paris. It is as difficult for towns and 
 cities as it is for commercial houses to recover from 
 ruin. Nothing is left to us of the old Provins but the 
 fragrance of our historical glory and that of our roses, 
 — and a sub-prefecture ! " 
 
 "Ah! what mightn't France be if she had only 
 preserved her feudal capitals ! " said Desfondrilles. 
 
Pierrette. 61 
 
 "Can sub-prefects replace the poetic, gallant, warlike 
 race of the Thibaults who made Provins what Ferrara 
 was to Italy, Weimar to Germany, — what Munich is 
 trying to be to-day." 
 
 " Was Provins ever a capital? " asked Rogron. 
 
 " Why ! where do you come from ? " exclaimed the 
 archaeologist. "Don't you know," he added, striking 
 the ground of the Upper town where they stood with 
 his cane, " don't you know that the whole of this part 
 of Provins is built on catacombs ? " 
 
 "Catacombs?" 
 
 " Yes, catacombs, the extent and height of which 
 are yet undiscovered. They are like the naves of 
 cathedrals, and there are pillars in them." 
 
 " Monsieur is writing a great archaeological work to 
 explain these strange constructions" interposed Mon- 
 sieur Martener, seeing that the deputy-judge was about 
 to mount his hobby. 
 
 Rogron came home much comforted to know that 
 his house was in the valley. The crypts of Pro- 
 vins kept him occupied for a week in explorations, 
 and gave a topic of conversation to the unhapp}' 
 celibates for man}' evenings. 
 
 In the course of these ramblings Rogron picked up 
 various bits of information about Provins, its inhabitants, 
 their marriages, together with stale political news ; all of 
 which he narrated to his sister. Scores of times in 
 
62 Pierrette. 
 
 his walks he would stop and sa}', — often to the 
 same person on the same daj*, — " Well, what 's the 
 news? " When he reached home he would fling himself 
 on the sofa like a man exhausted with labor, whereas he 
 was only worn out with the burden of his own dulness. 
 Dinner came at last, after he had gone twenty times to 
 the kitchen and back, compared the clocks, and opened 
 and shut all the doors of the house. So long as the 
 brother and sister could spend their evenings in paying 
 visits they managed to get along till bedtime ; but 
 after they were compelled to stay at home those even- 
 ings became like a parching desert. Sometimes persons 
 passing through the quiet little square would hear 
 unearthly noises as though the brother were throttling 
 the sister ; a moment's listening would show that they 
 were only 3-awning. These two human mechanisms, 
 having nothing to grind between their rusty wheels, 
 were creaking and grating at each other. The 
 brother talked of marrying, but only in despair. He 
 felt old and weary ; the thought of a woman frightened 
 him. Sylvie, who began to see the necessity of having 
 a third person in the home, suddenly remembered the 
 little cousin, about whom no one in Provins had yet 
 inquired, the friends of Madame Lorrain probably sup- 
 posing that mother and child were both dead. 
 
 Sylvie Rogron never lost anything ; she was too 
 thoroughly an old maid even to mislay the smallest 
 
Pierrette. 63 
 
 article ; but she pretended to have suddenly found the 
 Lorrains' letter, so as to mention Pierrette naturally to 
 her brother, who was greatly pleased at the possibility 
 of having a little girl in the house. Sylvie replied to 
 Madame Lorrain's letter half affectionately, half com- 
 mercially, as one may sa} T , explaining the delay by 
 their change of abode and the settlement of their* affairs. 
 She seemed desirous of receiving her little cousin, and 
 hinted that Pierrette would perhaps inherit twelve 
 thousand francs a year if her brother Jerome did not 
 marry. 
 
 Perhaps it is necessary to have been, like Nebuchad- 
 nezzar, something of a wild beast, and shut up in a 
 cage at the Jardin des Plantes without other prey than 
 the butcher's meat doled out by the keeper, or a retired 
 merchant deprived of the joys of tormenting his clerks, 
 to understand the impatience with which the brother 
 and sister awaited the arrival of their cousin Lorrain. 
 Three days after the letter had gone, the pair were 
 already asking themselves when she would get there. 
 
 Sylvie perceived in her spurious benevolence towards 
 her poor cousin a means of recovering her position in 
 the social world of Provins. She accordingly went to 
 call on Madame Tiphaine, of whose reprobation she 
 was conscious, in order to impart the fact of Pierrette's 
 approaching arrival, — deploring the girl's unfortunate 
 position, and posing herself as being only too happy 
 
64 Pierrette. 
 
 to succor her and give her a position as daughter and 
 future heiress. 
 
 " You have been rather long in discovering her," 
 said Madame Tiphaine, with a touch of sarcasm. 
 
 A few words said in a low voice by Madame Garce- 
 land, while the cards were being dealt, recalled to the 
 minds of those who heard her the shameful conduct of 
 old Rogron about the Auffray property ; the notary ex- 
 plained the iniquity. 
 
 "Where is the little girl now?" asked Monsieur 
 Tiphaine, politely. 
 
 " In Brittany," said Rogron. 
 
 "Brittany is a large place," remarked Monsieur 
 Lesourd. 
 
 u Her grandfather and grandmother Lorrain wrote 
 to us — when was that, my dear?" said Rogron ad- 
 dressing his sister. 
 
 Sylvie, who was just then asking Madam Garce- 
 land where she had bought the stuff for her gown, 
 answered hastily, without thinking of the effect of 
 her words : — 
 
 " Before we sold the business." 
 
 " And have you only just answered the letter, ma- 
 demoiselle?" asked the notary. 
 
 Sylvie turned as red as a live coal. 
 
 " We wrote to the Institution of Saint- Jacques," 
 remarked Rogron. 
 
Pierrette. 65 
 
 " That is a sort of hospital or almshouse for old peo- 
 ple," said Monsieur Desfondrilles, who knew Nantes. 
 " She can't be there ; they receive no one under 
 sixty." 
 
 "She is there, with her grandmother Lorrain," said 
 Rogron. 
 
 ' ' Her mother had a little fortune, the eight thousand 
 francs which your father — no, I mean of course your 
 grandfather — left to her," said the notary, making the 
 blunder intentional^. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Rogron, stupidly, not understanding the 
 notary's sarcasm. 
 
 "Then you know nothing about your cousin's posi- 
 tion or means ? " asked Monsieur Tiphaine. 
 
 "If Monsieur Rogron had known it," said the 
 deputy-judge, "he would never have left her all this 
 time in an establishment of that kind. I remember 
 now that a house in Nantes belonging to Monsieur 
 and Madame Lorrain was sold under an order of the 
 court, and that Mademoiselle Lorrain's claim was 
 swallowed up. I know this, for I was commissioner 
 at the time." 
 
 The notary spoke of Colonel Lorrain, who, had he 
 lived, would have been much amazed to know that 
 his daughter was in such an institution. The Rog- 
 rons beat a retreat, saying to each other that the world 
 was very malicious. Sylvie perceive d that the news of 
 
 l UNIVERSITY 
 
66 Pierrette. 
 
 her benevolence had missed its effect, — in fact, she had 
 lost ground in all minds ; and she felt that henceforth 
 she was forbidden to attempt an intimacy with the 
 upper class of Provins. After this evening the Rog- 
 rons no longer concealed their hatred of that class and 
 all its adherents. The brother told the sister the scan- 
 dals that Colonel Gouraud and the lawyer Vinet had 
 put into his head about the Tiphaines, the Guenees, 
 the Garcelands, the Julliards, and others : — 
 
 " I declare, Sylvie, I don't see why Madame Tiphaine 
 should turn up her nose at shopkeeping in the rue Saint- 
 Denis ; it is more honest than what she comes from. 
 Madame Roguin, her mother, is cousin to those Guil- 
 laumes of the ' Cat-playing-ball ' who gave up the 
 business to Joseph Lebas, their son-in-law. Her father 
 is that Roguin who failed in 1819, and ruined the house 
 of Cesar Birotteau. Madame Tiphaine's fortune was 
 stolen, — for what else are you to call it when a notary's 
 wife who is very rich lets her husband make a fraudulent 
 bankruptcy ? Fine doings ! and she marries her daughter 
 in Provins to get her out of the way, — all on account of 
 her own relations with du Tillet. And such people set 
 up to be proud ! Well, well, that 's the world ! " 
 
 On the day when Jerome Rogron and his sister 
 Sylvie began to declaim against "the clique" they 
 were, without being aware of it, on the road to having 
 a society of their own ; their house was to become a 
 
Pierrette. 67 
 
 rendezvous for other interests seeking a centre, — those 
 of the hitherto floating elements of the liberal party in 
 Provins. And this is how it came about : The launch 
 of the Rogrons in society had been watched with great 
 curiosity by Colonel Gouraud and the lawyer Vinet, 
 two men drawn together, first by their ostracism, next 
 by their opinions. They both professed patriotism and 
 for the same reason, — they wished to become of conse- 
 quence. The Liberals in Provins were, so far, confined 
 to one old soldier who kept a cafe, an innkeeper, Mon- 
 sieur Cournant a notary, Doctor Neraud, and a few 
 stray persons, mostty farmers or those who had bought 
 lands of the public domain. 
 
 The colonel and the lawyer, delighted to lay hands 
 on a fool whose money would be useful to their schemes, 
 and who might himself, in certain cases, be made to 
 bell the cat, while his house would serve as a meet- 
 ing-ground for the scattered elements of the part}*, 
 made the most of the Rogrons* ill-will against the 
 upper classes of the place. The three had already a 
 slight tie in their united subscription to the " Consti- 
 tutionnel ; " it would certainly not be difficult for the 
 colonel to make a Liberal of the ex-mercer, though 
 Rogron knew so little of politics that he was capable 
 of regarding the exploits of Sergeant Mercier as those 
 of a brother shopkeeper. 
 
 The expected arrival of Pierrette brought to sudden 
 
68 Pierrette. 
 
 fruition the selfish ideas of the two men, inspired as 
 they were by the folly and ignorance of the celibates. 
 Seeing that Sylvie had lost all chance of establishing 
 herself in the good societ}- of the place, an afterthought 
 came to the colonel. Old soldiers have seen so many 
 horrors in all lands, so many grinning corpses on 
 battle-fields, that no physiognomies repel them ; and 
 Gouraud began to cast his eyes on the old maid's for- 
 tune. This imperial colonel, a short, fat man, wore 
 enormous rings in ears that were bushy with tufts of 
 hair. His sparse and grizzly whiskers were called in 
 1799 "fins." His jolly red face was rather discolored, 
 like those of all who had lived to tell of the Beresina. 
 The lower half of his big, pointed stomach marked the 
 straight line which characterizes a cavalry officer. 
 Gouraud had commanded the Second Hussars. His 
 gray moustache hid a huge blustering mouth, — if we 
 ma} T use a term which alone describes that gulf. He 
 did not eat his food, he engulfed it. A sabre cut had 
 slit his nose, by which his speech was made thick 
 and very nasal, like that attributed to Capuchins. His 
 hands, which were short and broad, were of the kind 
 that make women say: "You have the hands of a 
 rascal." His legs seemed slender for his torso. In 
 that fat and active body an absolutely lawless spirit 
 disported itself, and a thorough experience of the 
 things of life, together with a profound contempt for 
 
Pierrette. 69 
 
 social conventions, lay hidden beneath the apparent 
 indifference of a soldier. Colonel Gouraud wore the 
 cross of an officer of the Legion of honor, and his 
 emoluments from that, together with his salary as a 
 retired officer, gave him in all about three thousand 
 francs a year. 
 
 The lawyer, tall and thin, had liberal opinions in 
 place of talent, and his only revenue was the meagre 
 profits of his office. In Provins lawyers plead their 
 own cases. The court was unfavorable to Vinet on 
 account of his opinions ; consequently, even the farmers 
 who were Liberals, when it came to lawsuits preferred 
 to employ some lawyer who was more congenial to 
 the judges. Vinet was regarded with disfavor in other 
 ways. He was said to have seduced a rich girl in the 
 neighborhood of Coulommiers, and thus have forced 
 her parents to marry her to him. Madame Vinet was 
 a Chargeboeuf, an old and noble family of La Brie, 
 whose name comes from the exploit of a squire during 
 the expedition of Saint Louis to Egypt. She incurred 
 the displeasure of her father and mother, who arranged, 
 unknown to Vinet, to leave their entire fortune to their 
 son, doubtless charging him privately, to pa}' over a 
 portion of it to his sister's children. 
 
 Thus the first bold effort of the ambitious man was a 
 failure. Pursued by poverty, and ashamed not to give 
 his wife the means of making a suitable appearance, he 
 
70 Pierrette. 
 
 had made desperate efforts to enter public life, but the 
 Chargeboeuf family refused him their influence. These 
 Royalists disapproved, on moral grounds, of his forced 
 marriage ; besides, he was named Vinet, and how could 
 they be expected to protect a plebeian ? Thus he was 
 driven from branch to branch when he tried to get 
 some good out of his marriage. Repulsed by every 
 one, filled with hatred for the family of his wife, for 
 the government which denied him a place, for the social 
 world of Provins which refused to admit him, Vinet 
 submitted to his fate ; but his gall increased. He 
 became a Liberal in the belief that his fortune might 
 yet be made by the triumph of the opposition, and he 
 lived in a miserable little house in the Upper town 
 from which his wife seldom issued. Madame Vinet had 
 found no one to befriend her since her marriage except 
 an old Madame de Chargeboeuf, a widow with one 
 daughter, who lived at Troyes. The unfortunate young 
 woman, destined for better things, was absolutely alone 
 in her home with a single child. 
 
 There are some kinds of poverty which may be 
 nobly accepted and gayly borne ; but Vinet, devoured 
 by ambition, and feeling himself guilty towards his 
 wife, was full of darkling rage ; his conscience grew 
 elastic ; and he finally came to think any means of 
 success permissible. His }'oung face changed. Per- 
 sons about the courts were sometimes frightened as 
 
Pierrette. 71 
 
 they looked at his viperish, flat head, his slit mouth, 
 his eyes gleaming through glasses, and heard his sharp, 
 persistent voice which rasped their nerves. His muddy 
 skin, with its sickly tones of green and yellow, expressed 
 the jaundice of his balked ambition, his perpetual dis- 
 appointments and his hidden wretchedness. He could 
 talk and argue ; he was well-informed and shrewd, and 
 was not without smartness and metaphor. Accustomed 
 to look at everything from the standpoint of his own 
 success, he was well fitted for a politician. A man 
 who shrinks from nothing so long as it is legal, is 
 strong ; and Vinet's strength lay there. 
 
 This future athlete of parliamentary debate, who was 
 destined to share in proclaiming the dynasty of the 
 house of Orleans had a terrible influence on Pierrette's 
 fate. At the present moment he was bent on making 
 for himself a weapon by founding a newspaper in 
 Provins. After studying the Rogrons at a distance 
 (the colonel aiding him) he had come to the conclusion 
 that the brother might be made useful. This time he 
 was not mistaken ; his days of poverty were over, after 
 seven wretched years, when even his daily bread was 
 sometimes lacking. The day when Gouraud told him 
 in the little square that the Rogrons had finally quar- 
 relled with the bourgeois aristocracy of the Upper 
 town, he nudged the colonel in the ribs significantly, 
 and said, with a knowing look : — 
 
72 Pierrette. 
 
 "One woman or another — handsome or ugly — you 
 don't care ; marry Mademoiselle Rogron and we can 
 organize something at once." 
 
 " 1 have been thinking of it," replied Gouraud, " but 
 the fact is they have sent for the daughter of Colonel 
 Lorrain, and she 's their next of kin." 
 
 " You can get them to make a will in your favor. 
 Ha ! you would get a very comfortable house." 
 
 "As for the little girl — well, well, let's see her," 
 said the colonel, with a leering and thoroughly wicked 
 look, which proved to a man of Vinet's quality how 
 little respect the old trooper could feel for any girl. 
 
Pierrette. 73 
 
 IV. 
 
 PIERRETTE. 
 
 After her grandfather and grandmother entered the 
 sort of hospital in which they sadly expected to end 
 their days, Pierrette, being young and proud, suffered 
 so terribly at living there on charity that she was thank- 
 ful when she heard she had rich relations. When Bri- 
 gaut, the son of her mother's friend the major, and the 
 companion of her childhood, who was learning his trade 
 as a cabinet-maker at Nantes, heard of her departure 
 he offered her the money to pay her way to Paris in 
 the diligence, — sixty francs, the total of his pour-boires 
 as an apprentice, slowly amassed, and accepted by Pier- 
 rette with the sublime indifference of true affection, 
 showing that in a like case she herself would be 
 affronted by thanks. 
 
 Brigaut was in the habit of going every Sunday to 
 Saint-Jacques to play with Pierrette and try to con- 
 sole her. The vigorous young workman knew the 
 dear delight of bestowing a complete and devoted pro- 
 tection on an object involuntarily chosen by^his heart. 
 More than once he and Pierrette, sitting on Sundays 
 
74 Pierrette. 
 
 in a corner of the garden, had embroidered the veil 
 of the future with their youthful projects ; the appren- 
 tice, armed with his plane, scoured the world to make 
 their fortune, while Pierrette waited. 
 
 In October, 1824, when the child had completed her 
 eleventh year, she was entrusted by the two old people 
 and by Brigaut, all three sorrowfully sad, to the con- 
 ductor of the diligence from Nantes to Paris, with an 
 entreaty to put her safely into the diligence from Paris 
 to Provins and to take good care of her. Poor Brigaut ! 
 he ran like a dog after the coach looking at his dear 
 Pierrette as long as he was able. In spite of her signs 
 he ran over three miles, and when at last he was ex- 
 hausted his eyes, wet with tears, still followed her. 
 She, too, was crying when she saw him no longer run- 
 ning by her, and putting her head out of the window 
 she watched him, standing stock-still and looking after 
 her, as the lumbering vehicle disappeared. 
 
 The Lorrains and Brigaut knew so little of life that 
 the girl had not a penny when she arrived in Paris. 
 The conductor, to whom she had mentioned her ricli 
 friends, paid her expenses at the hotel, and made the 
 conductor of the Provins diligence pay him, telling him 
 to take good care of the girl and to see that the charges 
 were paid 03- the famity, exactly as though she were a 
 case of goods. Four days after her departure from 
 Nantes, about nine o'clock of a Monday night, a kind 
 
Pierrette. 75 
 
 old conductor of the Messageries-royales, took Pierrette 
 by the hand, and while the porters were discharging in 
 the Grand'Rue the packages and passengers for Pro- 
 vins, he led the little girl, whose only baggage was a 
 bundle containing two dresses, two chemises, and two 
 pairs of stockings, to Mademoiselle Rogron's house, 
 which was pointed out to him by the director at the 
 coach office. 
 
 " Good-evening, mademoiselle and the rest of the 
 company. I 've brought you a cousin, and here she 
 is ; and a nice little girl too, upon my word. You have 
 forty-seven francs to pay me, and sign my book." 
 
 Mademoiselle Sjlvie and her brother were dumb with 
 pleasure and amazement. 
 
 "Excuse me," said the conductor, "the coach is 
 waiting. Sign my book and pay me forty-seven francs, 
 sixty centimes, and whatever you please for m} T self 
 and the conductor from Nantes ; we 've taken care of 
 the little girl as if she were our own ; and paid for her 
 beds and her food, also her fare to Provins, and other 
 little things." 
 
 " Forty-seven francs, twelve sous ! " said Sylvie. 
 
 " You are not going to dispute it? " cried the man. 
 
 " Where 's the bill? " said Rogron. 
 
 " Bill ! look at the book." 
 
 " Stop talking, and pay him," said Sj'lvie, " You see 
 there 's nothing else to be done." 
 
76 Pierrette. 
 
 Rogron went to get the money, and gave the man 
 forty-seven francs, twelve sous. 
 
 4 'And nothing for nry comrade and me?" said the 
 conductor. 
 
 Sylvie took two francs from the depths of the old 
 velvet bag which held her keys. 
 
 " Thank you, no," said the man ; " keep 'em 3-ourself. 
 We would rather care for the little one for her own 
 sake." He picked up his book and departed, saying 
 to the servant- gii-1 : " What a pair ! it seems there are 
 crocodiles out of Egypt ! " 
 
 11 Such men are always brutal, "said Sylvie, who over- 
 heard the words. 
 
 " They took good care of the little girl, anyhow," said 
 Adele with her hands on her hips. 
 
 " We don't have to live with him," remarked 
 Rogron. 
 
 " Where 's the little one to sleep? " asked Adele. 
 
 Such was the arrival of Pierrette Lorrain in the 
 home of her cousins, who gazed at her with stolid eyes ; 
 she was tossed to them like a package, with no inter- 
 mediate state between the wretched chamber at Saint- 
 Jacques and the dining-room of her cousins, which 
 seemed to her a palace. She was shy and speechless. 
 To all other eyes than those of the Rogrons the little 
 Breton girl would have seemed enchanting as she stood 
 there in her petticoat of coarse blue flannel, with a pink 
 
Pierrette. 77 
 
 cambric apron, thick shoes, blue stockings, and a white 
 kerchief, her hands being covered by red worsted mit- 
 tens edged with white, bought for her by the conductor. 
 Her dainty Breton cap (which had been washed in Paris, 
 for the journey from Nantes had rumpled it) was like a 
 halo round her happy little face. This national cap, of 
 the finest lawn, trimmed with stiffened lace pleated in 
 flat folds, deserves description, it was so dainty and sim- 
 ple. The light coming through the texture and the lace 
 produced a partial shadow, the soft shadow of a light 
 upon the skin, which gave her the virginal grace that all 
 painters seek and Leopold Robert found for the Raffael- 
 esque face of the woman who holds a child in his picture 
 of " The Gleaners." Beneath this fluted frame of light 
 sparkled a white and rosy and artless face, glowing with 
 vigorous health. The warmth of the room brought the 
 blood to the cheeks, to the tips of the pretty ears, to 
 the lips and the end of the delicate nose, making the 
 natural white of the complexion whiter still. 
 
 "Well, are not you going to say anything? I am 
 your cousin Sylvie, and that is your cousin Rogron." 
 
 M Do you want something to eat?" asked Rogron. 
 
 " When did you leave Nantes? " asked Sylvie. 
 
 " Is she dumb? " said Rogron. 
 
 u Poor little dear, she has hardly any clothes," cried 
 Adele, who had opened the child's bundle, tied up in a 
 handkerchief of the old Lorrains. 
 
78 Pierrette. 
 
 "Kiss your cousin," said Sylvie. 
 
 Pierrette kissed Rogron. 
 
 u Kiss your cousin," said Rogron. 
 
 Pierrette kissed Sylvie. 
 
 " She is tired out with her journey, poor little thing ; 
 she wants to go to sleep," said Adele. 
 
 Pierrette was overcome with a sudden and invincible 
 aversion for her two relatives, — a feeling that no one 
 had ever before excited in her. Sylvie and the maid 
 took her up to bed in the room where Brigaut after- 
 wards noticed the white cotton curtain. In it was a 
 little bed with a pole painted blue, from which hung a 
 calico curtain ; a walnut bureau without a marble top, a 
 small table, a looking-glass, a very common night-table 
 without a door, and three chairs completed the furniture 
 of the room. The walls, which sloped in front, were 
 hung with a shabb3 T paper, blue with black flowers. The 
 tiled floor, stained red and polished, was icy to the feet. 
 There was no carpet except a strip at the bedside. The 
 mantelpiece of common marble was adorned by a 
 mirror, two candelabra in copper-gilt, and a vulgar 
 alabaster cup in which two pigeons, forming handles, 
 were drinking. 
 
 "You will be comfortable here, my little girl?" 
 said Sylvie. 
 
 "Oh, it 's beautiful ! " said the child, in her silvery 
 voice. 
 
Pierrette. 79 
 
 " She 's not difficult to please," muttered the stout 
 servant. " Sha'n't I warm her bed? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Sylvie, " the sheets may be damp." 
 
 Adele brought one of her own night-caps when she 
 returned with the warming-pan, and Pierrette, who had 
 never slept in anything but the coarsest linen sheets, 
 was amazed at the fineness and softness of the cotton 
 ones. When she was fairly in bed and tucked up, 
 Adele, going downstairs with Sylvie, could not refrain 
 from saying, " All she has is n't worth three francs, 
 mademoiselle." 
 
 Ever since her economical regime began, Sylvie had 
 compelled the maid to sit in the dining-room so that 
 one fire and one lamp could do for all ; except when 
 Colonel Gouraud and Vinet came, on which occasions 
 Adele was sent to the kitchen. 
 
 Pierrette's arrival enlivened the rest of the evening. 
 
 " We must get her some clothes to-morrow," said 
 Sylvie; "she has absolutely nothing." 
 
 " No shoes but those she had on, which weigh a 
 pound," said Adele. 
 
 "That's always so, in their part of the countiy," 
 remarked Rogron. 
 
 ' ' How she looked at her room ! though it really 
 is n't handsome enough for a cousin of yours, ma- 
 demoiselle." 
 
 " It is good enough ; hold your tongue," said Sylvie. 
 
80 Pierrette. 
 
 M Gracious, what chemises ! coarse enough to scratch 
 her skin off; not a thing can she use here," said 
 Adele, emptying the bundle. 
 
 Master, mistress, and servant were busy till past 
 ten o'clock, deciding what cambric thej 7 should buy 
 for the new chemises, how many pairs of stockings, 
 how man}' under-petticoats, and what material, and in 
 reckoning up the whole cost of Pierrette's outfit. 
 
 " You won't get off under three hundred francs," 
 said Rogron, who could remember the different prices, 
 and add them up from his former shop-keeping habit. 
 
 u Three hundred francs ! " cried Sylvie. 
 
 u Yes, three hundred. Add it up." 
 
 The brother and sister went over the calculation 
 once more, and found the cost would be fully three 
 hundred francs, not counting the making. 
 
 " Three hundred francs at one stroke ! " said Sylvie 
 to herself as she got into bed. 
 
 Pierrette was one of those children of love whom 
 love endows with its tenderness, its vivacity, its gayety, 
 its nobility, its devotion. Nothing had so far disturbed 
 or wounded a heart that was delicate as that of a 
 fawn, but which was now painfully repressed by the 
 cold greeting of her cousins. If Brittany had been 
 full of outward misery, at least it was full of love. 
 The old Lorrains were the most incapable of merchants, 
 
Pierrette. 81 
 
 but they were also the most loving, frank, caressing, 
 of friends, like all who are incautious and free from 
 calculation. Their little granddaughter had received 
 no other education at Pen-Hoel than that of nature. 
 Pierrette went where she liked, in a boat on the pond, 
 or roaming the village and the fields with Jacques 
 Brigaut, her comrade, exactly as Paul and Virginia 
 might have done. Petted by everybody, free as air, 
 they gayly chased the joys of childhood. In summer 
 they ran to watch the fishing, they caught the many- 
 colored insects, they gathered flowers, they gardened ; 
 in winter they made slides, they built snow-men or 
 huts, or pelted each other with snowballs. Welcomed 
 by all, they met with smiles wherever they went. 
 
 When the time came to begin their education, disas- 
 ters came, too. Jacques, left without means at the 
 death of his father, was apprenticed by his relatives 
 to a cabinet-maker, and fed by charity, as Pierrette 
 was soon to be at Saint-Jacques. Until the little girl 
 was taken with her grandparents to that asylum, she 
 had known nothing but fond caresses and protection 
 from every one. Accustomed to confide in so much 
 love, the little darling missed in these rich relatives, 
 so eagerly desired, the kindly looks and wa} T s which 
 all the world, even strangers and the conductors of 
 the coaches, had bestowed upon her. Her bewilder- 
 ment, already great, was increased by the moral 
 
82 Pierrette. 
 
 atmosphere she had entered. The heart turns suddenly 
 cold or hot like the body. The poor child wanted to 
 en', without knowing why ; but being very tired she 
 went to sleep. 
 
 The next morning, Pierrette being, like all country 
 children, accustomed to get up early, was awake two 
 hours before the cook. She dressed herself, stepping 
 011 tiptoe about her room, looked out at the little 
 square, started to go downstairs and was struck with 
 amazement by the beauties of the staircase. She 
 stopped to examine all its details : the painted walls, 
 the brasses, the various ornamentations, the window 
 fixtures. Then she went down to the garden-door, but 
 was unable to open it, and returned to her room to 
 wait until Adele should be stirring. As soon as the 
 woman went to the kitchen Pierrette flew to the 
 garden and took possession of it, ran to the river, 
 was amazed at the kiosk, and sat down in it ; truly, 
 she had enough to see and to wonder at until her 
 cousins were up. At breakfast Sylvie said to her : — 
 
 44 Was it you, little one, who was trotting over 
 my head by daybreak, and" making that racket on 
 the stairs? You woke me so that I couldn't go to 
 sleep again. You must be very good and quiet, and 
 amuse 3'ourself without noise. Your cousin does n't 
 like noise." 
 
 44 And 3'ou must wipe your feet," said Rogron. 
 
Pierrette. 83 
 
 "you went into the kiosk with } T our dirty shoes, and 
 they 've tracked all over the floor. Your cousin likes 
 cleanliness. A great girl like you ought to be clean. 
 Were n't you clean in Brittany? But I recollect when 
 I went down there to buy thread it was pitiable to 
 see the folks, — they were like savages. At any rate 
 she has a good appetite," added Rogron, looking at his 
 sister; "one would think she hadn't eaten anything 
 for days." 
 
 Thus, from the very start Pierrette was hurt by the 
 remarks of her two cousins, — hurt, she knew not why. 
 Her straightforward, open nature, hitherto left to it- 
 self, was not given to reflection. Incapable of thinking 
 that her cousins were hard, she was fated to find it out 
 slowly through suffering. After breakfast the brother 
 and sister, pleased with Pierrette's astonishment at the 
 house and anxious to enjoy it, took her to the salon 
 to show her its splendors and teach her not to touch 
 them. Many celibates, driven by loneliness and the 
 moral necessity of caring for something, substitute 
 factitious affections for natural ones ; they love dogs, 
 cats, canaries, servants, or their confessor. Rogron 
 and Sylvie had come to the pass of loving immoderately 
 their house and furniture, which had cost them so dear. 
 Sylvie began by helping Adele in the mornings to dust 
 and arrange the furniture, under pretence that she did 
 not know how to keep it looking as good as new. This 
 
84 Pierrette. 
 
 dusting was soon a desired occupation to her, and the 
 furniture, instead of losing its value in her ej'es, became 
 ever more precious. To use things without hurting 
 them or soiling them or scratching the woodwork or 
 clouding the varnish, that was the problem which soon 
 became the mania of the old maid's life. Sylvie had 
 a closet full of bits of wool, wax, varnish, and brushes, 
 which she had learned to use with the dexterity of a 
 cabinet-maker; she had her feather dusters and her 
 dusting-cloths ; and she rubbed away without fear of 
 hurting herself, — she was so strong. The glance of 
 her cold blue eye, hard as steel, was forever roving 
 over the furniture and under it, and you could as soon 
 have found a tender spot in her heart as a bit of fluff 
 under the sofa. 
 
 After the remarks made at Madame Tiphaine's, 
 Sylvie dared not flinch from the three hundred francs 
 for Pierrette's clothes. During the first week her time 
 was wholly taken up, and Pierrette's too, by frocks to 
 order and try on, chemises and petticoats to cut out 
 and have made by a seamstress who went out by the 
 day. Pierrette did not know how to sew. 
 
 " That 's pretty bringing up ! " said Rogron. " Don't 
 j-ou know how to do anything, little girl ? " 
 
 Pierrette, who knew nothing but how to love, made 
 a pretty, childish gesture. 
 
 "What did 3'ou do in Brittany? " asked Eogron. 
 
Pierrette. 85 
 
 "I pla} T ed," she answered, naively. " Ever} T body 
 played with me. Grandmamma and grandpapa they 
 told me stories. Ah ! they all loved me ! " 
 
 " Hey ! " said Rogron ; " did n't you take it easy ! " 
 
 Pierrette opened her e} 7 es wide, not comprehending. 
 
 * She is as stupid as an owl," said Sylvie to Made- 
 moiselle Borain, the best seamstress in Provins. 
 
 kt She's so young," said the workwoman, looking 
 kindly at Pierrette, whose delicate little muzzle was 
 turned up to her with a coaxing look. 
 
 Pierrette preferred the sewing-women to her rela- 
 tions. She was endearing in her ways with them, she 
 watched their work, and made them those pretty 
 speeches that seem like the flowers of childhood, and 
 which her cousin had already silenced, for that gaunt 
 woman loved to impress those under her with salutary 
 awe. The sewing-women were delighted with Pierrette. 
 Their work, however, was not carried on without many 
 and loud grumblings. 
 
 "That child will make us pay through the nose!" 
 cried Sylvie to her brother. 
 
 " Stand still, my dear, and don't plague us ; it is all 
 for 3'ou and not for me," she would say to Pierrette 
 when the child was being measured. Sometimes it was, 
 when Pierrette would ask the seamstress some question, 
 " Let Mademoiselle Borain do her work, and don't talk 
 to her ; it is not you who are paying for her time." 
 
86 Pierrette. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said Mademoiselle Borain, "ami 
 to back-stitch this?" 
 
 " Yes, do it firmly ; I don't want to be making such 
 an outfit as this every daj\" 
 
 Sylvie put the same spirit of emulation into Pierrette's 
 outfit that she had formerly put into the house. She 
 was determined that her cousin should be as well 
 dressed as Madame Garceland's little girl. She bought 
 the child fashionable boots of bronzed kid like those the 
 little Tiphaines wore, ver}^ fine cotton stockings, a corset 
 by the best maker, a dress of blue reps, a pretty cape 
 lined with white silk, — all this that she, Sylvie, might 
 hold her own against the children of the women who 
 had rejected her. The underclothes were quite in keep- 
 ing with the visible articles of dress, for Sylvie feared 
 the examining eyes of the various mothers. Pierrette's 
 chemises were of fine Madapolam calico. Mademoiselle 
 Borain had mentioned that the sub-prefect's little girls 
 wore cambric drawers, embroidered and trimmed in the 
 latest style. Pierrette had the same. Sylvie ordered 
 for her a charming little drawn bonnet of blue velvet 
 lined with white satin, precisely like the one worn by 
 Dr. Martener's little daughter. 
 
 Thus attired, Pierrette was the most enchanting little 
 girl in all Provins. On Sunda}-, after church, all the 
 ladies kissed her; Mesdames Tiphaine, Garoeland, Ga- 
 lardon, Julliard, and the rest fell in love with the sweet 
 
Pierrette. 87 
 
 little Breton girl. This enthusiasm was deeply flatter- 
 ing to old Sylvie's self-love ; she regarded it as less due 
 to Pierrette than to her own benevolence. She ended, 
 however, in being affronted by her cousin's success. 
 Pierrette was constantly invited out, and Sylvie allowed 
 her to go, always for the purpose of triumphing over 
 u those ladies." Pierrette was much in demand for 
 games or little parties and dinners with their own little 
 girls. She had succeeded where the Rogrons had 
 failed ; and Mademoiselle Sylvie soon grew indignant 
 that Pierrette was asked to other children's houses 
 when those children never came to hers. The artless 
 little thing did not conceal the pleasure she found in 
 her visits to these ladies, whose affectionate manners 
 contrasted strangely with the harshness of her two 
 cousins. A mother would have rejoiced in the happi- 
 ness of her little one, but the Rogrons had taken Pier- 
 rette for their own sakes, not for hers ; their feelings, 
 far from being parental, were dyed in selfishness and a 
 sort of commercial calculation. 
 
 The handsome outfit, the fine Sunday dresses, and 
 the every-day frocks were the beginning of Pierrette's 
 troubles. Like all children free to amuse themselves, 
 who are accustomed to follow the dictates of their own 
 lively fancies, she was very^hard on her clothes, her 
 shoes, and above all on those embroidered drawers. 
 A mother when she reproves her child thinks only of 
 
88 Pierrette. 
 
 the child ; her voice is gentle ; she does not raise it 
 unless driven to extremities, or when the child is much 
 in fault But here, in this great matter of Pierrette's 
 clothes, the cousins' money was the first consideration ; 
 their interests were to be thought of, not the child's. 
 Children have the perceptions of the canine race for the 
 sentiments of those who rule them ; they know instinct- 
 ively whether they are loved or only tolerated. Pure and 
 innocent hearts are more distressed by shades of dif- 
 ference than by contrasts ; a child does not understand 
 evil, but it knows when the instinct of the good and the 
 beautiful which nature has implanted in it is shocked. 
 The lectures which Pierrette now drew upon herself on 
 propriety of behavior, modesty, and economy were 
 merely the corollary of the one theme, "Pierrette will 
 ruin us." 
 
 These perpetual fault-findings, which were destined 
 to have a fatal result for the poor child, brought the 
 two celibates back to the old beaten track of their 
 shop-keeping habits, from which their removal to Pro- 
 vins had parted them, and in which their natures were 
 now to expand and flourish. Accustomed in the old 
 days to rule and to make inquisitions, to order about 
 and reprove their clerks sharply, Rogron and his sister 
 had actually suffered for want of victims. Little minds 
 need to practise despotism to relieve their nerves, just 
 as great souls thirst for equality in friendship to ex- 
 
Pierrette. 89 
 
 ercise their hearts. Narrow natures expand by perse- 
 cuting as much as others through beneficence ; they 
 prove their power over their fellows by cruel tyranny 
 as others do by loving-kindness ; they simply go the 
 way their temperaments drive them. Add to this the 
 propulsion of self-interest and you may read the enigma 
 of most social matters. 
 
 Thenceforth Pierrette became a necessity to the 
 lives of her cousins. From the day of her coming 
 their minds were occupied, — first, with her outfit, and 
 then with the novelty of a third presence. But every 
 new thing, a sentiment and even a tyranny, is moulded 
 as time goes on into fresh shapes. Sylvie began by 
 calling Pierrette "my dear," or "little one." Then 
 she abandoned the gentler terms for " Pierrette" only. 
 Her reprimands, at first only cross, became sharp and 
 angry ; and no sooner were their feet on the path of 
 fault-finding than the brother and sister made rapid 
 strides. They were no longer bored to death ! It was 
 not their deliberate intention to be wicked and cruel ; 
 it was simply the blind instinct of an imbecile tyranny. 
 The pair believed they were doing Pierrette a service, 
 just as they had thought their harshness a benefit to 
 their apprentices. 
 
 Pierrette, whose true and noble and extreme sensi- 
 bility was the antipodes of the Rogrons' hardness, 
 had a dread of being scolded ; it wounded her so 
 
90 Pierrette. 
 
 sharply that the tears would instantly start in her 
 beautiful, pure eyes. She had a great struggle with 
 herself before she could repress the enchanting spright- 
 liness which made her so great a favorite elsewhere. 
 After a time she displayed it only in the homes of 
 her little friends. By the end of the first month she 
 had learned to be passive in her cousins' house, — so 
 much so that Rogron one da} r asked her if she was 
 ill. At that sudden question, she ran to the end of 
 the garden, and stood crying beside the river, into 
 which her tears may have fallen as she herself was 
 about to fall into the social torrent. 
 
 One day, in spite of all her care, she tore her 
 best reps frock at Madame Tiphaine's, where she was 
 spending a happy day. The poor child burst into tears, 
 foreseeing the cruel things which would be said to her at 
 home. Questioned by her friends, she let fall a few 
 words about her terrible cousin. Madame Tiphaine 
 happened to have some reps exactly like that of the 
 frock, and she put in a new breadth herself. Made- 
 moiselle Rogron found out the trick, as she expressed 
 it, which the little devil had played her. From that 
 day forth she refused to let Pierrette go to any of 
 ''those women's" houses. 
 
 The life the poor girl led in Provins was divided 
 into three distinct phases. The first, already shown, 
 in which she had some joy mingled with the cold kind- 
 
Pierrette. 91 
 
 ness of her cousins and their sharp reproaches, lasted 
 three months. Sylvie's refusal to let her go to her 
 little friends, backed by the necessity of beginning her 
 education, ended the first phase of her life at Provins, 
 the only period when that life was bearable to her. 
 
 These events, produced at the Rogrons by Pierrette's 
 presence, were studied by Vinet and the colonel with 
 the caution of foxes preparing to enter a poultry-yard 
 and disturbed by seeing a strange fowl. They both 
 called from time to time, — but seldom, so as not to 
 alarm the old maid; they talked with Rogron under 
 various pretexts, and made themselves masters of his 
 mind with an affectation of reserve and modesty which 
 the great Tartufe himself would have respected. The 
 colonel and the law} T er were spending the evening with 
 Rogron on the very day when S}*lvie had refused in 
 bitter language to let Pierrette go again to Madame 
 Tiphaine's, or elsewhere. Being told of this refusal the 
 colonel and the lawyer looked at each other with an 
 air which seemed to say that they at least knew Provins 
 well. 
 
 " Madame Tiphaine intended to insult you," said the 
 lawyer. ** We have long been warning Rogron of 
 what would happen. There 's no good to be got from 
 those people." 
 
 "What can you expect from the anti-national 
 party ! " cried the colonel, twirling his moustache and 
 
92 Pierrette. 
 
 interrupting the lawyer. "But, mademoiselle, if we 
 had tried to wean you from those people you might 
 have supposed we had some malicious motive in what 
 we said. If you like a game of cards in the evening, 
 wiry don't you have it at home ; why not play }^our bos- 
 ton here, in your own house? Is it impossible to fill the 
 places of those idiots, the Julliards and all the rest of 
 them? Vinet and I know how to play boston, and we 
 can easity find a fourth. Vinet might present his wife 
 to you ; she is charming, and, what is more, a Charge- 
 boeuf. You will not be so exacting as those apes of the 
 Upper town ; you won't require a good little housewife, 
 who is compelled by the meanness of her family to do 
 her own work, to dress like a duchess. Poor woman, 
 she has the courage of a lion and the meekness of 
 a lamb." 
 
 Sylvie Rogron showed her long yellow teeth as she 
 smiled on the colonel, who bore the sight heroically 
 and assumed a flattered air. 
 
 "If we are only four we can't play boston every 
 night," said Sylvie. 
 
 " Why not? What do you suppose an old soldier of 
 the Empire like me does with himself? And as for 
 Vinet, his evenings are always free. Besides, you '11 
 have plenty of other visitors ; I warrant you that," he 
 added, with a rather mysterious air. 
 
 " What you ought to do," said Vinet, u is to take an 
 
Pierrette. 93 
 
 open stand against the ministerials of Provins and 
 form an opposition to them. You would soon see how 
 popular that would make you ; you would have a 
 society about you at once. The Tiphaines would be 
 furious at an opposition salon. Well, well, why not 
 laugh at others, if others laugh at you ? — and they do ; 
 the clique does n't mince matters in talking about 
 you." 
 
 " How 's that? " demanded Sylvie. 
 
 In the provinces there is always a valve or a faucet 
 through which gossip leaks from one social set to an- 
 other. Vinet knew all the slurs cast upon the Rogrons 
 in the salons from which they were now excluded. 
 The deputy-judge and archaeologist Desfondrilles be- 
 longed to neither party. With other independents like 
 him, he repeated what he heard on both sides and 
 Vinet made the most of it. The lawyer's spiteful 
 tongue put venom into Madame Tiphaine's speeches, 
 and by showing Rogron and Sylvie the ridicule they 
 had brought upon themselves he roused an undying 
 spirit of hatred in those bitter natures, which needed an 
 object for their petty passions. 
 
 A few days later Vinet brought his wife, a well-bred 
 woman, neither pretty nor plain, timid, very gentle, 
 and deeply conscious of her false position. Madame 
 Vinet was fair-complexioned, faded by the cares of 
 her poor household, and very simply dressed. No 
 
94 Pierrette, 
 
 woman could have pleased Sylvie more. Madame 
 Vinet endured her airs, and bent before them like one 
 accustomed to subjection. On the poor woman's 
 rounded brow and delicately timid cheek and in her 
 slow and gentle glance, were the traces of deep reflec- 
 tion, of those perceptive thoughts which women who 
 are accustomed to suffer bury in total silence. 
 
 The influence of the colonel (who now displayed to 
 Sylvie the graces of a courtier, in marked contradiction 
 to his usual military brusqueness) , together with that of 
 the astute Vinet, was soon to harm the Breton child. 
 Shut up in the house, no longer allowed to go out ex- 
 cept in company with her old cousin, Pierrette, that 
 pretty little squirrel, was at the mercy of, the inces- 
 sant cry, " Don't touch that, child, let that alone ! " 
 She was perpetually being lectured on her carriage 
 and behavior ; if she stooped or rounded her shoulders, 
 her cousin would call to her to be as erect as herself 
 (Sylvie was rigid as a soldier presenting arms to his 
 colonel) ; sometimes indeed the ill-natured old maid en- 
 forced the order by slaps on the back to make the girl 
 straighten up. 
 
 Thus the free and joyous little child of the Marais 
 learned by degrees to repress all liveliness and to make 
 herself, as best she could, an automaton. 
 
Pierrette. 95 
 
 HISTORY OF POOR COUSINS IN THE HOME OF RICH 
 ONES. 
 
 One evening, which marked the beginning of Pier- 
 rette's second phase of life in her cousin's house, the 
 child, whom the three guests had not seen during the 
 evening, came into the room to kiss her relatives and 
 say good-night to the company. Sylvie turned her 
 cheek coldly to the pretty creature, as if to avoid kiss- 
 ing her. The motion was so cruelly significant that the 
 tears sprang to Pierrette's eyes. 
 
 "Did you prick yourself, little girl?" said the 
 atrocious Vinet. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Sylvie, severely. 
 
 " Nothing," said the poor child, going up to Rogron. 
 
 " Nothing?" said Sylvie, " that's nonsense ; nobody 
 cries for nothing." 
 
 "What is it, my little darling?" said Madame 
 Vinet. 
 
 '* My rich cousin is n't as kind to me as my poor 
 grandmother was," sobbed Pierrette. 
 
 "Your grandmother took your money," said Sylvie, 
 " and your cousin will leave you hers." 
 
96 Pierrette. 
 
 The colonel and the law} r er glanced at each other. 
 
 " I would rather be robbed and loved," said 
 Pierrette. 
 
 11 Then 3-ou shall be sent back whence you came." 
 
 "But what has the dear little thing done?" asked 
 Madame Vinet. 
 
 Vinet gave his wife the terrible, fixed, cold look with 
 which men enforce their absolute dominion. The 
 hapless helot, punished incessantly for not having the 
 one thing that was wanted of her, a fortune, took up 
 her cards. 
 
 "What has she done?" said Sylvie, throwing up 
 her head with such violence that the yellow wall- 
 flowers in her cap nodded. " She is always looking 
 about to annoy us. She opened my watch to see 
 the inside, and meddled with the wheel and broke the 
 mainspring. Mademoiselle pa} T s no heed to what is 
 said to her. I am all day long telling her to take 
 care of things, and I might just as well talk to that 
 lamp." 
 
 Pierrette, ashamed at being reproved before strangers, 
 crept softly out of the room. 
 
 "I am thinking all the time how to subdue that 
 child," said Rogron. 
 
 "Isn't she old enough to go to school?" asked 
 Madame Vinet. 
 
 Again she was silenced by a look from her husband, 
 
Pierrette. 97 
 
 who had been careful to tell her nothing of his own or 
 the colonel's schemes. 
 
 " This is what comes of taking charge of other 
 people's children ! " cried the colonel. " You may still 
 have some of your own, you or your brother. Why 
 don't you both marry?" 
 
 Sylvie smiled agreeably on the colonel. For the 
 first time in her life she met a man to whom the idea 
 that she could marry did not seem absurd. 
 
 " Madame Vinet is right," cried Rogron ; " perhaps 
 teaching would keep Pierrette quiet. A master would n't 
 cost much." 
 
 The colonel's remark so preoccupied Sylvie that she 
 made no answer to her brother. 
 
 11 If 3'ou are willing to be security for that opposition 
 journal I was talking to } r ou about," said Vinet, " you 
 will find an excellent master for the little cousin in 
 the managing editor; we intend to engage that poor 
 schoolmaster who lost his employment through the 
 encroachments of the clerg}\ My wife is right; 
 Pierrette is a rough diamond that wants polishing." 
 
 " I thought you were a baron," said Sylvie to the 
 colonel, while the cards were being dealt, and after a 
 long pause in which they had all been rather thoughtful. 
 
 " Yes ; but when I was made baron, in 1814, after the 
 battle of Nangis, where my regiment performed mira- 
 cles, I had money and influence enough to secure the 
 
 7 
 
98 Pierrette. 
 
 rank. But now my barony is like the grade of general 
 which I held in 1815, — it needs a revolution to give 
 it back to me." 
 
 "If you will secure my endorsement by a mortgage," 
 said Rogron, answering Vinet after long consideration, 
 "I will give it." 
 
 " That can easily be arranged," said Vinet. "The 
 new paper will soon restore the colonel's rights, and 
 make your salon more powerful in Provins than those 
 of Tiphaine and company." 
 
 " How so? " asked Sylvie. 
 
 While his wife was dealing and Vinet himself ex- 
 plaining the importance they would all gain by the 
 publication of an independent newspaper, Pierrette 
 was dissolved in tears ; her heart and her mind were 
 one in this matter ; she felt and knew that her cousin 
 was more to blame than she was. The little country girl 
 instinctively understood that charity and benevolence 
 ought to be a complete offering. She hated her hand- 
 some frocks and all the things that were made for her ; 
 she was forced to pay too dearly for such benefits. She 
 wept with vexation at having given cause for complaint 
 against her, and resolved to behave in future in such a 
 way as to compel her cousins to find no further fault 
 with her. The thought then came into her mind how 
 grand Brigaut had been in giving her all his savings 
 without a word. Poor child ! she fancied her troubles 
 
Pierrette. 99 
 
 were now at their worst ; she little knew that other 
 misfortunes were even now being planned for her in 
 the salon. 
 
 A few days later Pierrette had a writing-master. She 
 was taught to read, write, and cipher. Enormous injury 
 was thus supposed to be done to the Rogrons' house. 
 Ink-spots were found on the tables, on the furniture, on 
 Pierrette's clothes ; copy-books and pens were left about ; 
 sand was scattered everywhere, books were torn and 
 dog's-eared as the result of these lessons. She was told 
 in harsh terms that she would have to earn her own 
 living, and not be a burden to others. As she listened 
 to these cruel remarks Pierrette's throat contracted 
 violently with acute pain, her heart throbbed. She was 
 forced to restrain her tears, or she was scolded for 
 weeping and told it was an insult to the kindness of 
 her magnanimous cousins. Rogron had found the life 
 that suited him. He scolded Pierrette as he used to 
 scold his clerks ; he would call her when at pla}', and 
 compel her to study ; he made her repeat her lessons, 
 and became himself the almost savage master of the 
 poor child. Sylvie, on her side, considered it a duty 
 to teach Pierrette the little that she knew herself about 
 women's work. Neither Rogron nor his sister had the 
 slightest softness in their natures. Their narrow minds, 
 which found real pleasure in worrying the poor child, 
 passed insensibly from outward kindness to extreme 
 
100 Pierrette. 
 
 severity. This severity was necessitated, they believed, 
 by what they called the self-will of the child, which had 
 not been broken when young and was veiy obstinate. 
 Her masters were ignorant how to give to their instruc- 
 tions a form suited to the intelligence of the pupil, — 
 a thing, by the bye, which marks the difference between 
 public and private education. The fault was far less 
 with Pierrette than with her cousins. It took her an 
 infinite length of time to learn the rudiments. She 
 was called stupid and dull, clumsy and awkward for 
 mere nothings. Incessantly abused in words, the child 
 suffered still more from the harsh looks of her cousins. 
 She acquired the doltish ways of a sheep ; she dared 
 not do an} T thing of her own impulse, for all she did 
 was misinterpreted, misjudged, and ill-received. In all 
 things she awaited silentlj' the good pleasure and the 
 orders of her cousins, keeping her thoughts within her 
 own mind and sheltering herself behind a passive obedi- 
 ence. Her brilliant colors began to fade. Sometimes 
 she complained of feeling ill. When her cousin asked, 
 " Where?" the poor little thing, who had pains all 
 over her, answered, " Everywhere." 
 
 " Nonsense ! who ever heard of any one suffering 
 everywhere?" cried Sylvie. " If you suffered every- 
 where you 'd be dead." 
 
 " People suffer in their chests," said Rogron, who 
 liked to hear himself harangue, "or they have toothache, 
 
Pierrette. 101 
 
 headache, pains in their feet or stomach, but no one 
 has pains everywhere. What do you mean by every- 
 where ? I can tell you ;   everywhere ' means nowhere. 
 Don't you know what you are doing ? — you are com- 
 plaining for complaining's sake." 
 
 Pierrette ended by total silence, seeing how all her 
 girlish remarks, the flowers of her dawning intelligence, 
 were replied to with ignorant commonplaces which her 
 natural good sense told her were ridiculous. 
 
 " You complain," said Rogron, " but you 've got the 
 appetite of a monk." 
 
 The only person who did not bruise the delicate 
 little flower was the fat servant- woman, Adele. Adele 
 would go up and warm her bed, — doing it on the sly 
 after a certain evening when Sylvie had scolded her 
 for giving that comfort to the child. 
 
 " Children should be hardened, to give them strong 
 constitutions. Am I and my brother the worse for 
 it? " said Sylvie. " You '11 make Pierrette zpeakling; " 
 this was a word in the Rogron vocabulary which meant 
 a puny and suffering little being. 
 
 The naturally endearing ways of the angelic child 
 were treated as dissimulation. The fresh, pure blossoms 
 of affection which bloomed instinctively in that young 
 soul were pitilessly crushed. Pierrette suffered many a 
 cruel blow on the tender flesh of her heart. If she tried 
 to soften those ferocious natures by innocent, coaxing 
 
102 Pierrette. 
 
 wiles they accused her of doing it with an object 
 "Tell me at once what you want?" Rogron would 
 sa} 7 , brutallj* ; " you are not coaxing me for nothing." 
 
 Neither brother nor sister believed in affection, and 
 Pierrette's whole being was affection. Colonel Gouraud, 
 anxious to please Mademoiselle Rogron, approved of 
 all she did about Pierrette. Vinet also encouraged 
 them in what they said against her. He attributed all 
 her so-called misdeeds to the obstinacy of the Breton 
 character, and declared that no power, no will, could 
 ever conquer it. Rogron and his sister were so 
 shrewdly flattered b}' the two manoeuvrers that the 
 former agreed to go security for the " Courrier de 
 Provins," and the latter invested five thousand francs 
 in the enterprise. 
 
 On this, the colonel and lawyer took the field. The}* 
 got a hundred shares, of five hundred francs each, taken 
 among the farmers and others called independents, and 
 also among those who had bought lands of the national 
 domains, — whose fears they worked upon. They even 
 extended their operations through the department and 
 along its borders. Each shareholder of course sub- 
 scribed to the paper. The judicial advertisements were 
 divided between the " Bee-hive," and the " Courrier." 
 The first issue of the latter contained a pompous eulogy 
 on Rogron. He was presented to the community as the 
 Laffitte of Provins. The public mind having thus 
 
Pierrette. 103 
 
 received an impetus in this new direction, it was 
 manifest, of course, that the coming elections would be 
 contested. Madame Tiphaine, whose highest hope was 
 to take her husband to Paris as deputy, was in despair. 
 After reading an article in the new paper aimed at her 
 and at Julliard junior, she remarked: " Unfortunately 
 for me, I forgot that there is always a scoundrel close to 
 a dupe, and that fools are magnets to clever men of the 
 fox breed." 
 
 As soon as the ' ' Courrier " was fairly launched on 
 a radius of fifty miles, Vinet bought a new coat and 
 decent boots, waistcoats, and trousers. He set up the 
 gray slouch hat sacred to liberals, and showed his 
 linen. His wife took a servant, and appeared in public 
 dressed as the wife of a prominent man should be ; her 
 caps were pretty. Vinet proved grateful — out of 
 policy. He and his friend Cournant, the liberal notary 
 and the rival of the ministerial notary Auffray, became 
 the close advisers of the Rogrons, to whom they were 
 able to do a couple of signal services. The leases 
 granted by old Rogron their father in 1815, when 
 matters were at a low ebb, were about to expire. 
 Horticulture and vegetable gardening had developed 
 enormously in the neighborhood of Provins. The 
 lawyer and notary set to work to enable the Rogrons 
 to increase their rentals. Vinet won two lawsuits 
 against two districts on a question of planting trees, 
 
104 Pierrette. 
 
 which involved five hundred poplars. The proceeds of 
 the poplars, added to the savings of the brother and 
 sister, who for the last three years had laid by six 
 thousand a year at high interest, was wisely invested in 
 the purchase of improved lands. Vinet also undertook 
 and carried out the ejectment of certain peasants to 
 whom the elder Rogron had lent money on their farms, 
 and who had strained every nerve to pay off the debt, 
 but in vain. The cost of the Rogrons' fine house was 
 thus in a measure recouped. Their landed property, 
 lying around Provins and chosen by their father with 
 the sagacious eye of an innkeeper, was divided into 
 small holdings, the largest of which did not exceed 
 five acres, and rented to safe tenants, men who owned 
 other parcels of land, that were ample security for their 
 leases. These investments brought in, by 1826, five 
 thousand francs a } r ear. Taxes were charged to the 
 tenants, and there were no buildings needing insurance 
 or repairs. 
 
 By the end of the second period of Pierrette's stay in 
 Provins life had become so hard for her, the cold in- 
 difference of all who came to the house, the silly fault- 
 finding, and the total absence of affection on the part of 
 her cousins grew so bitter, she was so conscious of a chill 
 dampness like that of a grave creeping round her, that 
 the bold idea of escaping, on foot and without money, 
 to Brittany and to her grandparents took possession of 
 
Pierrette. 105 
 
 her mind. Two events hindered her from attempting it. 
 Old Lorrain died, and Rogron was appointed guardian 
 of his little cousin. If the grandmother had died first, 
 we may believe that Rogron, advised by Vinet, would 
 have claimed Pierrette's eight thousand francs and 
 reduced the old man to penury. 
 
 "You may, perhaps, inherit from Pierrette," said 
 Vinet, with a horrid smile. " Who knows who may live 
 and who may die ? " 
 
 Enlightened by that remark, Rogron gave old Ma- 
 dame Lorrain no peace until she had secured to Pierrette 
 the reversion of the eight thousand francs at her death. 
 
 Pierrette was deeply shocked by these events. She 
 was on the point of making her first communion, — 
 another reason for resigning the hope of escape from 
 Provins. This ceremony, simple and customary as it 
 was, led to great changes in the Rogron household. 
 Sylvie learned that Monsieur le cure Peroux was in- 
 structing the little Julliards, Lesourds, Garcelands, and 
 the rest. She therefore made it a point of honor that 
 Pierrette should be instructed by the vicar himself, 
 Monsieur Habert, a priest who was thought to belong 
 to the Congregation, very zealous for the interests of 
 the Church, and much feared in Provins, — a man who 
 hid a vast ambition beneath the austerity of stern prin- 
 ciples. The sister of this priest, an unmarried woman 
 about thirty years of age, kept a school for young 
 
106 Pierrette. 
 
 ladies. Brother and sister looked alike ; both were 
 thin, yellow, black-haired, and bilious. 
 
 Like a true Breton girl, cradled in the practices and 
 poetry of Catholicism, Pierrette opened her heart and 
 ears to the words of this imposing priest. Sufferings 
 predispose the mind to devotion, and nearty all 3'oung 
 girls, impelled by instinctive tenderness, are inclined 
 to mysticism, the deepest aspect of religion. The 
 priest found good soil in which to sow the seed of the 
 Gospel and the dogmas of the Church. He completely 
 changed the current of the girl's thoughts. Pierrette 
 loved Jesus Christ in the light in which he is presented 
 to young girls at the time of their first communion, as a 
 celestial bridegroom ; her physical and moral sufferings 
 gained a meaning for her ; she saw the finger of God 
 in all things. Her soul, so cruelly hurt although she 
 could not accuse her cousins of actual wrong, took refuge 
 in that sphere to which all sufferers fly on the wings 
 of the cardinal virtues, — Faith, Hope, Charity. She 
 abandoned her thoughts of escape. Sylvie, surprised 
 by the transformation Monsieur Habert had effected 
 in Pierrette, was curious to know how it had been done. 
 And it thus came about that the austere priest, while 
 preparing Pierrette for her first communion, also won 
 to God the hitherto erring soul of Mademoiselle Sylvie. 
 Sylvie became pious. Jerome Rogron, on whom the 
 so-called Jesuit could get no grip (for just then the 
 
Pierrette. 107 
 
 influence of His Majesty the late Constitutionnel the 
 First was more powerful over weaklings than the influ- 
 ence of the Church), Jerome Rogron remained faithful 
 to Colonel Gouraud, Vinet, and Liberalism. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rogron naturally made the acquaint- 
 ance of Mademoiselle Habert, witli whom she sympa- 
 thized deeply. The two spinsters loved each other 
 as sisters. Mademoiselle Habert offered to take Pier- 
 rette into her school to spare Sylvie the annoyance of 
 her education ; but the brother and sister both declared 
 that Pierrette's absence would make the house too 
 lonely ; their attachment to their little cousin seemed 
 excessive. 
 
 When Gouraud and Vinet became aware of the ad- 
 vent of Mademoiselle Habert on the scene they con- 
 cluded that the ambitious priest her brother had the 
 same matrimonial plan for his sister that the colonel 
 was forming for himself and Sylvie. 
 
 "Your sister wants to get you married," said Vinet 
 to Rogron. 
 
 " With whom? " asked Rogron. 
 
 " With that old sorceress of a schoolmistress," cried 
 the colonel, twirling his moustache. 
 
 "She hasn't said anything to me about it," said 
 Rogron, naively. 
 
 So thorough an old maid as Sylvie was certain to 
 make good progress in the way of salvation. The 
 
108 Pierrette. 
 
 influence of the priest would as certainly increase, 
 and in the end affect Rogron, over whom Sylvie had 
 great power. The two Liberals, who were naturally 
 alarmed, saw plainly that if the priest were resolved 
 to marry his sister to Rogron (a far more suitable 
 marriage than that of Sylvie to the colonel) he could 
 then drive Sylvie in extreme devotion to the Church, 
 and put Pierrette in a convent. They might there- 
 fore lose eighteen months' labor in flattery and mean- 
 nesses of all sorts. Their minds were suddenly filled 
 with a bitter, silent hatred to the priest and his sis- 
 ter, though they felt the necessity of living on good 
 terms with them in order to track their manoeuvres. 
 Monsieur and Mademoiselle Habert, who could play 
 both whist and boston, now came every evening to 
 the Rogrons. The assiduity of the one pair induced 
 the assiduity of the other. The colonel and lawyer 
 felt that they were pitted against adversaries who were 
 fully as strong as they, — a presentiment that was shared 
 by the priest and his sister. The situation soon be- 
 came that of a battle-field. Precisely as the colonel 
 was enabling Sylvie to taste the unhoped-for j'03's of 
 being sought in marriage, so Mademoiselle Habert was 
 enveloping the timid Rogron in the cotton-wool of her 
 attentions, words, and glances. Neither side could 
 utter that grand word of statesmanship, u Let us di- 
 vide ! " for each wanted the whole pre}'. 
 
Pierrette. 109 
 
 The two clever foxes of the Opposition made the 
 mistake of pulling the first trigger. Vinet, under the 
 spur of self-interest, bethought himself of his wife's 
 only friends, and looked up Mademoiselle de Charge- 
 boeuf and her mother. The two women were living in 
 poverty at Troyes on two thousand francs a year. 
 Mademoiselle Bathilde de Chargeboeuf was one of 
 those fine creatures who believe in marriage for love 
 up to their twenty-fifth year, and change their opinion 
 when they find themselves still unmarried. Vinet man- 
 aged to persuade Madame de Chargeboeuf to join her 
 means to his and live with his family in Provins, where 
 Bathilde, he assured her, could marry a fool named 
 Rogron, and, clever as she was, take her place in the 
 best society of the place. 
 
 The arrival of Madame and Mademoiselle de Charge- 
 boeuf in the lawyer's household was a great reinforce- 
 ment for the liberal party ; and it created consternation 
 among the aristocrats of Provins and also in the 
 Tiphaine clique. Madame de Breaute}^, horrified to 
 see two women of rank so misled, begged them to 
 come to her. She was shocked that the royalists of 
 Tro3 T es had so neglected the mother and daughter, 
 whose situation she now learned for the first time. 
 
 " How is it that no old country gentleman has 
 married that dear girl, who is cut out for a lady of 
 the manor?" she said. "They have let her run to 
 
110 Pierrette. 
 
 seed, and now she is to be flung si the head of a 
 
 She ransacked the whole department bat did not 
 fincntd in finding »ny gentleman willing to many 
 a girl whose mother had only two thousand francs 
 a year. The u clique " and the subprefect also looked 
 about them with the same object, but they were all 
 too late. Madame de Breautey made terrible charges 
 which degraded France, — the 
 of materialism, and of the 
 now given by the laws to money : nobility 
 was no longer of value! nor beauty either! Sock 
 creatures as the Bogrons, the Yinets, could stand up 
 and fight with the King of France! 
 
 Bathilde de Chargebceuf had not only the incon- 
 testable superiority of beauty over her rival, but that 
 of dress as wefl- She was dazzhngly lair. At twenty- 
 five her shoulders were fully developed, and the curves 
 of her beautiful figure were exquisite. The roundness 
 of her throat, the purity of its lines, the wealth of her 
 golden hair, the charming grace of her smile, the 
 distinguished carriage of her head, the character of 
 her features, the fine eyes finely placed beneath a 
 well-formed brow, her every motion, noble and high- 
 bred, and her light and graceful figure, — all were in 
 harmony. Her hands were beautiful, and her feet 
 Health gave her, perhaps, too much the 
 
Pitrrette. Ill 
 
 look of a handsome barmaid. " But that can't be a 
 defect in the eyes of a Region," sighed MucUiw 
 Tiphaine. Mademoiselle de ChargebceuFs dress when 
 she made her first appearance in ProTins at the Ro- 
 grons' house was very simple. Her brown 
 edged with green embroidery was worn 
 bat a tulle fichu, carefully drawn down by 
 strings, covered her neck and shoulders, though it 
 opened a little in front, where its folds were caught 
 together with a tevigne. Beneath this delicate fabric 
 Bathilde's beauties seemed all the more enticing and 
 coquettish. She took off her velvet bonnet and her 
 shawl on arriving, and showed her pretty ears adorned 
 with what were then called   ear-drops " in gold. She 
 wore a little Jetmmette — a black velvet ribbon with a 
 heart attached — round her throat, where it shone like 
 the jet ring which fantastic nature has fastened round 
 the tail of a white angora cat She knew all the little 
 tricks of a girl who seeks to marry ; her fingers ar- 
 ranged her curls which were not in the least out of 
 order; she entreated Rogron to fasten a cuff-button, 
 thus showing him her wrist, a request which that 
 dazzled fool rudely refused, hiding his emotions under 
 the mask of indifference. The timidity of the only 
 love he was ever to feel in the whole coarse of his 
 life took an external appearance of dislike. Sylvie 
 and her friend Celeste Habert were deceived by it; 
 
112 Pierrette. 
 
 not so Vinet, the wise head of this doltish circle, among 
 whom no one really coped with him but the priest, — the 
 colonel being for a long time his ally. 
 
 On the other hand the colonel was behaving to Sylvie 
 very much as Bathilde behaved to Rogron. He put on 
 a clean shirt every evening and wore velvet stocks, 
 which set off his martial features and the spotless white 
 of his collar. He adopted the fashion of white pique 
 waistcoats, and caused to be made for him a new sur- 
 tout of blue cloth, on which his red rosette glowed 
 finely; all this under pretext of doing honor to the 
 new guests Madame and Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf. 
 He even refrained from smoking for two hours previous 
 to his appearance in the Rogrons' salon. His grizzled 
 hair was brushed in a waving line across a cranium 
 which was ochre in tone. He assumed the air and 
 manner of a party leader, of a man who was pre- 
 paring to drive out the enemies of France, the Bour- 
 bons, in short, to beat of drum. 
 
 The satanic lawyer and the wily colonel played the 
 priest and his sister a more cruel trick than even the 
 importation of the beautiful Mademoiselle de Charge- 
 boeuf, who was considered 03- all the Liberal party and 
 by Madame de Br6autey and her aristocratic circle to 
 be far handsomer than Madame Tiphaine. These two 
 great statesmen of the little provincial town made 
 everybody believe that the priest was in sympathy with 
 
Pierrette. 113 
 
 their ideas ; so that before long Provins began to talk 
 of him as a liberal ecclesiastic. As soon as this news 
 reached the bishop Monsieur Habert was sent for and 
 admonished to cease his visits to the Rogrons ; but his 
 sister continued to go there. Thus the salon Rogron 
 became a fixed fact and a constituted power. 
 
 Before the year was out political intrigues were not 
 less lively than the matrimonial schemes of the Rogron 
 salon. While the selfish interests hidden in these 
 hearts were struggling in deadly combat the events 
 which resulted from them had a fatal celebrity. Every- 
 body knows that the Villele ministry was overthrown 
 by the elections of 1826. Vinet, the Liberal candidate 
 at Provins, who had borrowed money of his notary to 
 buy a domain which made him eligible for election, 
 came very near defeating Monsieur Tiphaine, who 
 saved his election by only two votes. The head- 
 quarters of the Liberals was the Rogron salon ; among 
 the habitue's were the notary Cournant and his wife, 
 and Doctor Ne>aud, whose youth was said to have 
 been stormy, but who now took a serious view of 
 life ; he gave himself up to study and was, according 
 to all Liberals, a far more capable man than Monsieur 
 Martener, the aristocratic physician. As for the 
 Rogrons, they no more understood their present 
 triumph than they had formerly understood their 
 ostracism. 
 
114 Pierrette. 
 
 The beautiful Bathilde, to whom Vinet had explained 
 Pierrette as an enemy, was extremely disdainful to tb( 
 girl. It seemed as though everybody's selfish schemes 
 demanded the humiliation of that poor victim. Madam< 
 Vinet could do nothing for her, ground as she hersel! 
 was beneath those implacable self-interests which th( 
 lawyer's wife had come at last to see and comprehend 
 Her husband's imperious will had alone taken her to th< 
 Rogron's house, where she had suffered much at th< 
 harsh treatment of the pretty little creature, who woulc 
 often press up against her as if divining her secre 
 thoughts, sometimes asking the poor lady to show he: 
 a stitch in knitting or to teach her a bit of embroider}' 
 The child proved in return that if she were treatec 
 gently she would understand what was taught her, anc 
 succeed in what she tried to do quite marvellously 
 But Madame Vinet was soon no longer necessary to hei 
 husband's plans, and after the arrival of Madame anc 
 Mademoiselle de Chargebceuf she ceased to visit the 
 Rogrons. 
 
 Sjlvie, who now indulged the idea of manying, 
 began to consider Pierrette as an obstacle. The gir 
 was nearly fourteen ; the pallid whiteness of her skin, 
 a symptom of illness entirely overlooked by the ignoranl 
 old maid, made her exquisitely lovely. Sylvie took it 
 into her head to balance the cost which Pierrette had 
 been to them by making a servant of her. All the 
 
Pierrette. \\b 
 
 habitues of the boose to whom she spoke of the matter 
 advised that she should send away Adele. Why 
 should n't Pierrette take care of the boose and cook? 
 If there was too moch work at any time Mademoiselle 
 Kogron could easily employ the colonel's woman-of-all- 
 work, an excellent cook and a most respectable person. 
 Pierrette ought to learn how to cook, and rnb floors, 
 and sweep, said the lawyer ; erery girl should be taught 
 to keep boose properly and go to market and know the 
 price of tilings. The poor little soot, whose self-devo- 
 tion was equal to her ge n erosity, offered herself 
 willingly, pleased to think that she could earn the 
 bitter bread which she ate in that boose. Adele was 
 sent away, and Pierrette thus lost the only person who 
 might hare protected her. 
 
 In spite of the poor child's strength of heart she was 
 henceforth crashed down physically as well as mentally. 
 Her cousins had less consideration for her than for a 
 she belonged to them ! She was scolded for 
 nothings, for an atom of dost left on a glass globe 
 or a marble mantelpiece. The handsome ornaments she 
 had once admired now became odious to her. Ho 
 how she strove to do right, her inexorable 
 always found soww'thisg to reprove in whatever 
 she did. In the coarse of two years Pierrette never 
 received the slightest praise, or heard a kindly word. 
 Happiness for her lay in not being scolded. She bore 
 
116 Pierrette. 
 
 with angelic patience the morose ill-humor of the two 
 celibates, to whom all tender feelings were absolutely 
 unknown, and who daily made her feel her dependence 
 on them. 
 
 Such a life for a 3'oung girl, pressed as it were be- 
 tween the two chops of a vise, increased her illness 
 She began to feel violent internal distresses, secrel 
 pangs so sudden in their attacks that her strength was 
 undermined and her natural development arrested 
 By slow degrees and through dreadful, though hidder 
 sufferings, the poor child came to the state in whicl 
 the companion of her childhood found her when he 
 sang to her his Breton ditty at the dawn of the Octobei 
 day. 
 
Pierrette. 117 
 
 VI. 
 
 AN OLD MAID'S JEALOUSY. 
 
 Before we relate the domestic drama which the 
 coming of Jacques Brigaut was destined to bring about 
 in the Rogron family it is best to explain how the lad 
 came to be in Provins ; for he is, as it were, a some- 
 what mute personage on the scene. 
 
 When he ran from the house Brigaut was not only 
 frightened by Pierrette's gesture, he was horrified by 
 the change he saw in his little friend. He could 
 scarcely recognize the voice, the eyes, the gestures 
 that were once so lively, gay, and withal so tender. 
 When he had gained some distance from the house his 
 legs began to tremble under him ; hot flushes ran down 
 his back. He had seen the shadow of Pierrette, but not 
 Pierrette herself ! The lad climbed to the Upper town till 
 he found a spot from which he could see the square and 
 the house where Pierrette lived. He gazed at it mourn- 
 fully, lost in many thoughts, as though he were enter- 
 ing some grief of which he could not see the end. 
 Pierrette was ill ; she was not happy ; she pined for 
 Brittany — what was the matter with her? All these 
 
118 Pierrette. 
 
 questions passed and repassed through his heart and 
 rent it, revealing to his own soul the extent of his 
 love for his little adopted sister. 
 
 It is extremely rare to find a passion existing be- 
 tween two children of opposite sexes. The charming 
 story of Paul and Virginia does not, any more than 
 this of Pierrette and Brigaut, answer the question put 
 by that strange moral fact. Modern historj' offers only 
 the illustrious instance of the Marchesa di Pescara and 
 her husband. Destined to marry by their parents from 
 their earliest years, they adored each other and were 
 married, and their union gave to the sixteenth century 
 the noble spectacle of a perfect conjugal love without a 
 flaw. When the marchesa became a widow at the age 
 of thirty-four, beautiful, intellectually brilliant, univer- 
 sally adored, she refused to marry sovereigns and 
 buried herself in a convent, seeing and knowing thence- 
 forth only nuns. Such was the perfect love that 
 suddenly developed itself in the heart of the Breton 
 workman. Pierrette and he had often protected each 
 other ; with what bliss had he given her the money for 
 her journey ; he had almost killed himself by running 
 after the diligence when she left him. Pierrette had 
 known nothing of all that ; but for him the recollection 
 had warmed and comforted the cold, hard life he had 
 led for the last three years. For Pierrette's sake he 
 had struggled to improve himself; he had learned his 
 
Pierrette. 119 
 
 trade for Pierrette ; he had come to Paris for Pierrette, 
 intending to make his fortune for her. After spending 
 a fortnight in the city, he had not been able to hold 
 out against the desire to see her, and he had walked 
 from Saturday night to Monday morning. He intended 
 to return to Paris ; but the moving sight of his little 
 friend nailed him to Proving. A wonderful magnetism 
 (still denied in spite of many proofs) acted upon him 
 without his knowledge. Tears rolled from his eyes 
 when they rose in hers. If to her he was Brittany 
 and her happy childhood, to him she was life itself. 
 
 At sixteen years of age Brigaut did not yet know 
 how to draw or to model a cornice ; he was ignorant of 
 much, but he had earned, by piece-work done in the 
 leisure of his apprenticeship, some four or five francs a 
 day. On this he could live in Provins and be near 
 Pierrette ; he would choose the best cabinet-maker in 
 the town, and learn the rest of his trade in working for 
 him, and thus keep watch over his darling. 
 
 Brigaut's mind was made up as he sat there thinking. 
 He went back to Paris and fetched his certificate, tools, 
 and baggage, and three days later he was a journey- 
 man in the establishment of Monsieur Frappier, the 
 best cabinet-maker in Provins. Active, steady work- 
 men, not given to junketing and taverns, are so rare 
 that masters hold to young men like Brigaut when they 
 find them. To end Brigaut's history on this point, we 
 
1 20 Pierrette. 
 
 will say here that by the end of the month he was 
 made foreman, and was fed and lodged by Frappier, 
 who taught him arithmetic and line drawing. The 
 house and shop were in the Grand'Rue, not a hundred 
 feet from the little square where Pierrette lived. 
 
 Brigaut buried his love in his heart and committed 
 no imprudence. He made Madame Frappier tell him all 
 she knew about the Rogrons. Among other things, 
 she related to him the way in which their father had 
 laid hands on the property of old Auffray, Pierrette's 
 grandfather. Brigaut obtained other information as to 
 the character of the brother and sister. He met Pier- 
 rette sometimes in the market with her cousin, and 
 shuddered to see the heavy basket she was carrying on 
 her arm. On Sunda3 T s he went to church to look at 
 her, dressed in her best clothes. There, for the first 
 time, he became aware that Pierrette was Mademoiselle 
 Lorrain. Pierrette saw him and made him a hasty 
 sign entreating him to keep out of sight. To him, 
 there was a world of things in that little gesture, as 
 there had been, a fortnight earlier, in the sign by 
 which she told him from her window to run away. Ah ! 
 what a fortune he must make in the coming ten years 
 in order to marry his little friend, to whom, he was 
 told, the Rogrons were to leave their house, a hundred 
 acres of land, and twelve thousand francs a year, not 
 counting their savings ! 
 
Pierrette. 121 
 
 The persevering Breton was determined to be thor- 
 oughly educated for his trade, and he set about acquir- 
 ing all the knowledge that he lacked. As long as only 
 the principles of his work were concerned he could 
 learn those in Provins as well as in Paris, and thus 
 remain near Pierrette, to whom he now became anxious 
 to explain his projects and the sort of protection she 
 could rely on from him. He was determined to know 
 the reason of her pallor, and of the debility which was 
 beginning to appear in the organ which is always the 
 last to show the signs of failing life, namely the eyes ; 
 he would know, too, the cause of the sufferings which 
 gave her that look as though death were near and she 
 might drop at any moment beneath its scythe. The 
 two signs, the two gestures — not denying their friend- 
 ship but imploring caution — alarmed the young Breton. 
 Evidently Pierrette wished him to wait and not attempt 
 to see her ; otherwise there was danger, there was peril 
 for her. As she left the church she was able to give 
 him one look, and Brigaut saw that her eyes were full 
 of tears. But he could have sooner squared the circle 
 than have guessed what had happened in the Rogrons' 
 house during the fortnight which had elapsed since his 
 arrival. 
 
 It was not without keen apprehensions that Pier- 
 rette came downstairs on the morning after Brigaut 
 had invaded her morning dreams like another dream. 
 
122 Pierrette. 
 
 She was certain that her cousin Sylvie must have heard 
 the song, or she would not have risen and opened her 
 window ; but Pierrette was ignorant of the powerful 
 reasons that made the old maid so alert. For the last 
 eight days, strange secret events and bitter feelings agi- 
 tated the minds of the chief personages who frequented 
 the Rogron salon. These hidden matters, carefully con- 
 cealed by all concerned, were destined to fall in their 
 results like an avalanche on Pierrette. Such nrysterious 
 things, which we ought perhaps to call the putrescence 
 of the human heart, lie at the base of the greatest revolu- 
 tions, political, social or domestic ; but in telling of them 
 it is desirable to explain that their subtle significance 
 cannot be given in a matter-of-fact narrative. These 
 secret schemes and calculations do not show themselves 
 as brutally and undisguisedly while taking place as they 
 must when the history of them is related. To set down 
 in writing the circumlocutions, oratorical precautions, 
 protracted conversations, by which minds intentionally 
 darkened knowledge, and honeyed words glossed over 
 the venom of intentions, would make as long a book as 
 that magnificent poem called " Clarissa Harlowe." 
 
 Mademoiselle Habert and Mademoiselle Sylvie were 
 equally desirous of marrying, but one was ten years 
 older than the other, and the probabilities of life al- 
 lowed Celeste Habert to expect that her children would 
 inherit all the Rogron property. Sylvie was forty-two, 
 
Pierrette. 123 
 
 an age at which marriage is beset by perils. In confid- 
 ing to each other their ideas, Celeste, instigated by her 
 vindictive brother the priest, enlightened Sylvie as to 
 the dangers she would incur. Sylvie trembled; she 
 was terribly afraid of death, an idea which shakes all 
 celibates to their centre. But just at this time the 
 Martignac ministry came into power, — a Liberal victory 
 which overthrew the Villele administration. The Vinet 
 party now carried their heads high in Provins. Vinet 
 himself became a personage. The Liberals prophesied 
 his advancement; he would certainly be deputy and 
 attorney-general. As for the colonel, he would be 
 made mayor of Provins. Ah, to reign as Madame 
 Garceland, the wife of the present mayor, now reigned ! 
 Sj'lvie could not hold out against that hope ; she 
 determined to consult a doctor, though the proceeding 
 would only cover her with ridicule. To consult Mon- 
 sieur N£raud, the Liberal plrysician and the rival of 
 Monsieur Martener, would be a blunder. Celeste 
 Habert offered to hide S}ivie in her dressing-room 
 while she herself consulted Monsieur Martener, the 
 physician of her establishment, on this difficult matter. 
 Whether Martener was, or was not, Celeste's accom- 
 plice need not be discovered ; at any rate he told his 
 client that even at thirty the danger, though slight, did 
 exist. " But," he added, " with your constitution, you 
 need fear nothing." 
 
124 Pierrette. 
 
 " But how about a woman over forty ? " asked Made- 
 moiselle Celeste. 
 
 * A married woman who has had children has noth- 
 ing to fear." 
 
 " But I mean an unmarried woman, like Mademoi- 
 selle Rogron, for instance?" 
 
 M Oh, that's another thing," said Monsieur Martener. 
 " Successful childbirth is then one of those miracles 
 which God sometimes allows himself, but rarely." 
 
 "Why?" asked Celeste. 
 
 The doctor answered with a terrifying pathological 
 description ; he explained that the elasticity given by 
 nature to } T outhful muscles and bones did not exist at 
 a later age, especially in women whose lives were 
 sedentary. 
 
 11 So you think that an unmarried woman ought not 
 to marry after forty ? " 
 
 11 Not unless she waits some years," replied the 
 doctor. " But then, of course, it is not marriage, it is 
 only an association of interests." 
 
 The result of the interview, clearly, seriously, scien- 
 tifically and sensibly stated, was that an unmarried 
 woman would make a great mistake in marrying after 
 forty. When the doctor had departed Mademoiselle 
 Celeste found Sylvie in a frightful state, green and 
 yellow, and with the pupils of her eyes dilated. 
 
 " Then you really love the colonel? " asked Celeste. 
 
Pierrette. 125 
 
 "I still hoped," replied Sylvie. 
 
 " Well then, wait ! " cried Mademoiselle Habert, jesu- 
 itically, aware that time would rid her of the colonel. 
 
 Sylvie's new devotion to the church warned her that 
 the morality of such a marriage might be doubtful. 
 She accordingly sounded her conscience in the confes- 
 sional. The stern priest explained the opinions of the 
 Church, which sees in marriage only the propagation of 
 humanity, and rebukes second marriages and all pas- 
 sions but those with a social purpose. Sylvie's per- 
 plexities were great. These internal struggles gave 
 extraordinary force to her passion, investing it with 
 that inexplicable attraction which, from the days of 
 Eve, the thing forbidden possesses for women. Made- 
 moiselle Rogron's perturbation did not escape the 
 lynx-eyed law} T er. 
 
 One evening, after the game had ended, Vinet ap- 
 proached his dear friend Sjlvie, took her hand, and 
 led her to a sofa. 
 
 " Something troubles you," he said. 
 
 She nodded sadly. The lawyer let the others de- 
 part ; Rogron walked home with the Chargebceufs, and 
 when Vinet was alone with the old maid he wormed 
 the truth out of her. 
 
 " Cleverly played, abbe" ! " thought he. "But you 've 
 played into my hands." 
 
 The foxy lawyer was more decided in his opinion 
 
12(3 Pierrette. 
 
 than even the doctor. He advised marriage in ten 
 years. Inwardty he was vowing that the whole Rogron 
 fortune should go to Bathilde. He rubbed his hands, 
 his pinched lips closed more tightty as he hurried home. 
 The influence exercised by Monsieur Habert, physician 
 of the soul, and by Vinet, doctor of the purse, balanced 
 each other perfectly. Rogron had no piety in him ; so 
 the churchman and the man of law, the black-robed 
 pair, were fairly matched. 
 
 On discovering the victory obtained by Celeste, in 
 her anxiety to marry Rogron herself, over Sylvie, torn 
 between the fear of death and the joy of being baron- 
 ness and ma} r oress, the lawyer saw his chance of driving 
 the colonel from the battlefield. He knew Rogron well 
 enough to be certain he could marry him to Bathilde ; 
 Jer6me had already succumbed inwardly to her charms, 
 and Vinet knew that the first time the pair were alone 
 together the marriage would be settled. Rogron had 
 reached the point of keeping his eyes fixed on Celeste, 
 so much did he fear to look at Bathilde. Vinet had now 
 possessed himself of Sylvie's secrets, and saw the force 
 with which she loved the colonel. He fully understood 
 the struggle of such a passion in the heart of an old 
 maid who was also in the grasp of religious emotion, 
 and he saw his way^ to rid himself of Pierrette and the 
 colonel both by making each the cause of the other's 
 overthrow. 
 
Pierrette. 12T 
 
 The next day, after the court had risen, Vinet met 
 the colonel and Rogron taking a walk together, accord- 
 ing to their daily custom. 
 
 Whenever the three men were seen in company the 
 whole town talked of it. This triumvirate, held in 
 horror by the sub-prefect, the magistrac}', and the 
 Tiphaine clique, was, on the other hand, a source of 
 pride and vanity to the Liberals of Provins. Vinet 
 was sole editor of the " Courrier " and the head of the 
 party ; the colonel, the working manager, was its arm ; 
 Rogron, by means of his purse, its nerves. The 
 Tiphaines declared that the three men were always 
 plotting evil to the government; the Liberals admired 
 them as the defenders of the people. When Rogron 
 turned to go home, recalled by a sens.e of his dinner- 
 hour, Vinet stopped the colonel from following him by 
 taking Gouraud's arm. 
 
 " Well, colonel," he said, "I am going to take a fear- 
 ful load off your shoulders ; you can do better than 
 marry Sylvie ; if you play your cards properly you can 
 marry that little Pierrette in two years' time." 
 
 He thereupon related the Jesuit's manoeuvre and its 
 effect on Sylvie. 
 
 "What a skulking trick!" cried the colonel ; "and 
 spreading over years, too ! " 
 
 lt Colonel," said Vinet, gravely, " Pierrette is a 
 charming creature ; with her you can be happy for the 
 
128 Pierrette. 
 
 rest of your life ; your health is so sound that the dif- 
 ference in your ages won't seem disproportionate. 
 But, all the same, you must n't think it an eas}- thing 
 to change a dreadful fate to a pleasant one. To turn 
 a woman who loves you into a friend and confidant is 
 as perilous a business as crossing a river under fire of 
 the enemy. Cavalry colonel as 30U are, and daring 
 too, you must study the position and manoeuvre }our 
 forces with the same wisdom you have displayed 
 hitherto, and which has won us our present position. 
 If I get to be attorney-general you shall command the 
 department. Oh ! if you had been an elector we should 
 be further advanced than we are now ; I should have 
 bought the votes of those two clerks by threatening 
 them with the loss of their places, and we should have 
 had a majority." 
 
 The colonel had long been thinking about Pierrette, 
 but he concealed his thoughts with the utmost dissimu- 
 lation. His roughness to the child was only a mask ; 
 but she could not understand why the man who claimed 
 to be her father's old comrade should usually treat her 
 so ill, when sometimes, if he met her alone, he would 
 chuck her under the chin and give her a friendly kiss. 
 But after the conversation with Vinet relating to 
 Sylvie's fears of marriage Gouraud began to seek op- 
 portunities to find Pierrette alone ; the rough colonel 
 made himself as soft as a cat ; he told her how brave 
 
Pierrette. 129 
 
 her father was and what a misfortune it had been for 
 her that she lost him. 
 
 A few days before Brigaut's arrival Sylvie had come 
 suddenly upon Gouraud and Pierrette talking together. 
 Instantly, jealousy rushed into her heart with monastic 
 violence. Jealousy, eminently credulous and suspi- 
 cious, is the passion in which fancy has most freedom, 
 but for all that it does not give a person intelligence ; 
 on the contrary, it hinders them from having any ; and 
 in S3 T lvie's case jealousy only filled her with fantastic 
 ideas. When (a few mornings later) she heard Bri- 
 gaut's ditty, she jumped to the conclusion that the man 
 who had used the words " Madam' la mariee," address- 
 ing them to Pierrette, must be the colonel. She was 
 certain she was right, for she had noticed for a week 
 past a change in his manners. He was the only man 
 who, in her solitary life, had ever paid her any atten- 
 tion. Consequently she watched him with all her eyes, 
 all her mind ; and by giving herself up to hopes that 
 were sometimes flourishing, sometimes blighted, she 
 had brought the matter to such enormous proportions 
 that she saw all things in a mental mirage. To use a 
 common but excellent expression, by dint of looking 
 intently she saw nothing. Alternately she repelled, 
 admitted, and conquered the supposition of this rivalry. 
 She compared herself with Pierrette ; she was forty-two 
 years old, with gray hair ; Pierrette was delicately fair, 
 
 9 
 
130 Pierrette. 
 
 with e3*cs soft enough to warm a withered heart. She had 
 heard it said that men of fifty were apt to love young 
 girls of just that kind. Before the colonel had come 
 regularly to the house Sylvie had heard in the Ti- 
 phaines' salon strange stories of his life and morals. 
 Old maids preserve in their love-affairs the exaggerated 
 Platonic sentiments which young girls of twenty are 
 wont to profess ; they hold to these fixed doctrines 
 like all who have little experience of life and no per- 
 sonal knowledge of how great social forces modify, 
 impair, and bring to nought such grand and noble 
 ideas. The mere thought of being jilted by the colonel 
 was torture to Sylvie's brain. She lay in her bed going 
 over and over her own desires, Pierrette's conduct, and 
 the song which had awakened her with the word " mar- 
 riage." Like the fool she was, instead of looking 
 through the blinds to see the lover, she opened her 
 window without reflecting that Pierrette would hear her. 
 If she had had the common instinct of a spy she would 
 have seen Brigaut, and the fatal drama then begun 
 would never have taken place. 
 
 It was Pierrette's dutj^, weak as she was, to take 
 down the bars that closed the wooden shutters of the 
 kitchen, which she opened and fastened back ; then she 
 opened in like manner the glass door leading from the 
 corridor to the garden. She took the vavious brooms 
 that were used for sweeping the carpets, the dining- 
 
Pierrette. 131 
 
 room, the passages and stairs, together with the other 
 utensils, with a care and particularity which no servant, 
 not even a Dutchwoman, gives to her work. She hated 
 reproof. Happiness for her was in seeing the cold blue 
 pallid eyes of her cousin, not satisfied (that they never 
 were), but calm, after glancing about her with the look 
 of an owner, — that wonderful glance which sees what 
 escapes even the most vigilant eyes of others. Pier- 
 rette's skin was moist with her labor when she returned 
 to the kitchen to put it in order, and light the stove 
 that she might carry up hot water to her two cousins 
 (a luxury she never had for herself) and the means of 
 lighting fires in their rooms. After this she laid the 
 table for breakfast and lit the stove in the dining- 
 room; For all these various fires she had to fetch 
 wood and kindling from the cellar, leaving the warm 
 rooms for a damp and chilly atmosphere. Such sudden 
 transitions, made with the quickness of youth, often to 
 escape a harsh word or to obey an order, aggravated 
 the condition of her health. She did not know she was 
 ill, and yet she suffered. She began to have strange 
 cravings ; she liked raw vegetables and salads, and ate 
 them secretly. The innocent child was quite unaware 
 that her condition was that of serious illness which 
 needed the utmost care. If Neraud, the Rogrons' 
 doctor, had told this to Pierrette before Brigaut's ar- 
 rival she would only have smiled ; life was so bitter 
 
132 Pierrette. 
 
 she could smile at death. But now her feelings 
 changed ; the child, to whose physical sufferings was 
 added the anguish of Breton homesickness (a moral 
 malady so well-known that colonels in the army allow 
 for it among their men), was suddenly content to 
 be in Provins. The sight of that yellow flower, the 
 song, the presence of her friend, revived her as a 
 plant long without water revives under rain. Uncon- 
 sciously she wanted to live, and even thought she did 
 not suffer. 
 
 Pierrette slipped timidly into her cousin's bedroom, 
 made the fire, left the hot water, said a few words, and 
 went to wake Rogron and do the same offices for him. 
 Then she went down to take in the milk, the bread, 
 and the other provisions left by the dealers. She stood 
 some time on the sill of the door hoping that Brigaut 
 would have the sense to come to her; but by that 
 time he was already on his way to Paris. 
 
 She had finished the arrangement of the dining-room 
 and was busy in the kitchen when she heard her cousin 
 Sylvie coming down. Mademoiselle Rogron appeared 
 in a brown silk dressing gown and a cap with bows ; 
 her false front was awry, her night-gown showed above 
 the silk wrapper, her slippers were down at heel. She 
 gave an eye to everything and then came straight to 
 Pierrette, who was awaiting her orders to know what 
 to prepare for breakfast. 
 
Pierrette. 133 
 
 "Ha! here you are, lovesick young lady!" said 
 Sylvie, in a mocking tone. 
 
 " What is it, cousin? " 
 
 "You came into my room like a sly cat, and you 
 crept out the same way, though you knew very well 
 I had something to say to you." 
 
 "Tome?" 
 
 " You had a serenade this morning, as if you were 
 a princess." 
 
 " A serenade ! " exclaimed Pierrette. 
 
 "A serenade!" said Sylvie, mimicking her; "and 
 you 've a lover, too." 
 
 " What is a lover, cousin?" 
 
 Sylvie avoided answering, and said : — 
 
 " Do you dare to tell me, mademoiselle, that a man 
 did not come under your window and talk to you of 
 marriage ? " 
 
 Persecution had taught Pierrette the wariness of 
 slaves ; so she answered bravely : — 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, — " 
 
 " Who means ? — your dog ? " said Sylvie, sharply. 
 
 "I should have said 'cousin,'" replied the girl, 
 humbly. 
 
 "And didn't you get up and go in your bare feet 
 to the window ? — which will give you an illness ; and 
 serve you right, too. And perhaps you did n't talk to 
 your lover, either ? " 
 
134 Pierrette. 
 
 " No, cousin." 
 
 "■ I know you have many faults, but I did not think 
 you told lies. You had better think this over, made- 
 moiselle ; you will have to explain this affair to your 
 cousin and to me, or your cousin will be obliged to 
 take severe measures." 
 
 The old maid, exasperated by jealous}' and curiosity, 
 meant to frighten the girl. Pierrette, like all those who 
 suffer more than they have strength to bear, kept 
 silence. Silence is the onty weapon by which such 
 victims can conquer ; it baffles the Cossack charges of 
 envy, the savage skirmishing of suspicion ; it does at 
 times give victory, crushing and complete, — for what 
 is more complete than silence ? it is absolute ; it is one 
 of the attributes of infinity. Sylvie watched Pierrette 
 narrowly. The girl colored ; but the color, instead of 
 rising evenly, came out in patches on her cheekbones, 
 in burning and significant spots. A mother, seeing 
 that sj^mptom of illness, would have changed her tone 
 at once ; she would have taken the child on her lap and 
 questioned her ; in fact, she would long ago have ten- 
 derly understood the signs of Pierrette's pure and 
 perfect innocence ; she would have seen her weakness 
 and known that the disturbance of the digestive organs 
 and the other functions of the body was about to 
 affect the lungs. Those eloquent patches would have 
 warned her of an imminent danger. But an old maid, 
 
Pierrette. 135 
 
 one in whom the family instincts have never been 
 awakened, to whom the needs of childhood and the 
 precautions required for adolescence were unknown, 
 had neither the indulgence nor the compassionate in- 
 telligence of a mother ; such sufferings as those of 
 Pierrette, instead of softening her heart only made 
 it more callous. 
 
 " She blushes, she is guilty ! " thought Sylvie. 
 
 Pierrette's silence was thus interpreted to her injury. 
 
 M Pierrette," continued Sylvie, " before your cousin 
 comes down we must have some talk together. Come," 
 she said, in a rather softer tone, " shut the street door ; 
 if any one comes they will ring and we shall hear 
 them." 
 
 In spite of the damp mist which was rising from 
 the river, Sylvie took Pierrette along the winding 
 gravel path which led across the lawn to the edge of 
 the rock terrace, — a picturesque little quay, covered 
 with iris and aquatic plants. She now changed her 
 tactics, thinking she might catch* Pierrette tripping 
 by softness ; the hyena became a cat. 
 
 •• Pierrette," she said, "you are no longer a child; 
 you are nearly fifteen, and it is not at all surprising 
 that you should have a lover." 
 
 " But, cousin," said Pierrette, raising her eyes with 
 angelic sweetness to the cold, sour face of her cousin, 
 "What is a lover?" 
 
136 Pierrette. 
 
 It would have been impossible for Sylvie to define a 
 lover with truth and decency to the girl's mind. In- 
 stead of seeing in that question the proof of adorable 
 innocence, she considered it a piece of insincerity. 
 
 " A lover, Pierrette, is a man who loves us and 
 wishes to marry us." 
 
 44 Ah," said Pierrette, 44 when that happens in Brit- 
 tany we call the 3 T oung man a suitor." 
 
 44 Well, remember that in owning your feelings for a 
 man you do no wrong, my dear. The wrong is in 
 hiding them. Have you pleased some of the men 
 who visit here?" 
 
 44 1 don't think so, cousin. * 
 
 44 Do you love any of them? " 
 
 44 No." 
 
 "Certain?" 
 
 44 Quite certain." 
 
 44 Look at me, Pierrette." 
 
 Pierrette looked at Sylvie. 
 
 44 A man called to you this morning in the square." 
 
 Pierrette lowered her eyes. 
 
 44 You went to your window, you opened it, and you 
 spoke to him." 
 
 44 No cousin, I went to look out and I saw a 
 peasant." 
 
 44 Pierrette, you have much improved since you 
 made your first communion ; you have become pious 
 
Pierrette. 137 
 
 and obedient, you love God and your relations ; I am sat- 
 isfied with you. I don't say this to puff you up with pride." 
 
 The horrible creature had mistaken despondencj', 
 submission, the silence of wretchedness, for virtues ! 
 
 The sweetest of all consolations to suffering souls, to 
 martyrs, to artists, in the worst of that divine agony 
 which hatred and envy force upon them, is to meet 
 with praise where they have hitherto found censure and 
 injustice. Pierrette raised her grateful eyes to her 
 cousin, feeling that she could almost forgive her for the 
 sufferings she had caused. 
 
 "But if it is all hypocrisy, if I find you a serpent 
 that I have warmed in my bosom, you will be a wicked 
 girl, an infamous creature ! " 
 
 U I think I have nothing to reproach myself with," 
 said Pierrette, with a painful revulsion of her heart at 
 the sudden change from unexpected praise to the tones 
 of the hyena. 
 
 " You know that to lie is a mortal sin? " 
 
 14 Yes, cousin." 
 
 44 Well, you are now under the eye of God," said the 
 old maid, with a solemn gesture towards the sky ; M swear 
 to me that you did not know that peasant." 
 
 44 I will not swear," said Pierrette. 
 
 " Ha ! he was no peasant, you little viper." 
 
 Pierrette rushed away like a frightened fawn terrified 
 at her tone. Sylvie called her in a dreadful voice. 
 
138 Pierrette. 
 
 11 The bell is ringing," she answered. 
 
 " Artful wretch!" thought Sylvie. " She is de- 
 praved in mind ; and now I am certain the little adder 
 has wound herself round the colonel. She has heard 
 us say he was a baron. To be a baroness ! little fool ! 
 Ah ! I '11 get rid of her, I '11 apprentice her out, and 
 soon too ! " 
 
 Sylvie was so lost in thought that she did not notice 
 her brother coming down the path and bemoaning the 
 injury the frost had done to his dahlias. 
 
 11 Sylvie! what are you thinking about? I thought 
 you were looking at the fish ; sometimes they jump out 
 of the water." 
 
 "No," said Sylvie. 
 
 "How did you sleep?" and he began to tell her 
 about his own dreams. "Don't you think my skin is 
 getting tabid?" — a word in the Rogron vocabulary. 
 
 Ever since Rogron had been in love, — but let us not 
 profane the word, — ever since he had desired to many 
 Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf, he was veiy uneasy about 
 himself and his health. At this moment Pierrette came 
 down the garden steps and called to them from a dis- 
 tance that breakfast was ready. At sight of her cousin, 
 Sylvie's skin turned green and yellow, her bile was in 
 commotion. She looked at the floor of the corridor 
 and declared that Pierrette ought to rub it. 
 
 " I will rub it now if you wish," said the little angel, 
 
Pierrette. 139 
 
 not aware of the injury such work may do to a young 
 girl. 
 
 The dining-room was irreproachably in order. Sylvie 
 sat down and pretended all through breakfast to want 
 this, that, and the other thing which she would never 
 have thought of in a quieter moment, and which she 
 now asked for only to make Pierrette rise again and 
 again just as the child was beginning to eat her food. 
 But such mere teasing was not enough ; she wanted a 
 subject on which to find fault, and was angry with herself 
 for not finding one. She scarcely answered her brother's 
 silly remarks, yet she looked at him only ; her eyes 
 avoided Pierrette. Pierrette was deeply conscious of all 
 this. She brought the milk mixed with cream for each 
 cousin in a large silver goblet, after heating it carefully 
 in the bain-marie. The brother and sister poured in the 
 coffee made by Sylvie herself on the table. When Syl- 
 vie had carefully prepared hers, she saw an atom of 
 coffee-grounds floating on the surface. On this the 
 storm broke forth. 
 
 " What is the matter? " asked Rogron. 
 
 " The matter is that mademoiselle has put dust in my 
 milk. Do you suppose I am going to drink coffee with 
 ashes in it? Well, I am not surprised ; no one can do 
 two things at once. She was n't thinking of the milk ! 
 a. blackbird might have flown through the kitchen to- 
 day and she wouldn't have seenJtlJiois^should she 
 
 V Of THE r 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
140 Pierrette. 
 
 see the dust flying ! and then it was my coffee, ha ! 
 that did n't signify ! " 
 
 As she spoke she was laying on the side of her plate 
 the coffee-grounds that had run through the filter. 
 
 "But, cousin, that is coffee," said Pierrette. 
 
 " Oh ! then it is I who tell lies, is it? " cried Sylvie, 
 looking at Pierrette and blasting her with a fearful 
 flash of anger from her eyes. 
 
 Organizations which have not been exhausted by 
 powerful emotions often have a vast amount of the 
 vital fluid at their service. This phenomenon of the 
 extreme clearness of the eye in moments of anger was 
 the more marked in Mademoiselle Rogron because she 
 had often exercised the power of her eyes in her shop 
 by opening them to their full extent for the purpose of 
 inspiring her dependents with salutary fear. 
 
 4 'You had better dare to give me the lie!" con- 
 tinued Sylvie ; M you deserve to be sent from the table 
 to go and eat by yourself in the kitchen." 
 
 " What's the matter with you two?" cried Rogron, 
 " you are as cross as bears this morning." 
 
 " Mademoiselle knows what I have against her," 
 said Sylvie. " I leave her to make up her mind before 
 speaking to you ; for I mean to show her more kindness 
 than she deserves." 
 
 Pierrette was looking out of the window to avoid her 
 cousin's eyes, which frightened her. 
 
"Look at 
 
 Pierrette. 141 
 
 Look at her ! she pays no more attention to what I 
 am saying than if I were that sugar-basin ! And yet 
 mademoiselle has a sharp ear; she can hear and an- 
 swer from the top of the house when some one talks 
 to her from below. She is perversity itself, — perver- 
 sity, I say ; and you need n't expect any good of her ; 
 do you hear me, Jerome ? " 
 
 " What has she done wrong? " asked Rogron. 
 
 "At her age, too! to begin so young!" screamed 
 the angry old maid. 
 
 Pierrette rose to clear the table and give herself 
 something to do, for she could hardly bear the scene 
 any longer. Though such language was not new to 
 her, she had never been able to get used to it. Her 
 cousin's rage seemed to accuse her of some crime. She 
 imagined what her fury would be if she came to know 
 about Brigaut. Perhaps her cousins would have him 
 sent away, and she should lose him ! All the many 
 thoughts, the deep and rapid thoughts of a slave came 
 to her, and she resolved to keep absolute silence about 
 a circumstance in which her conscience told her there 
 was nothing wrong. But the cruel, bitter words she had 
 been made to hear and the wounding suspicion so 
 shocked her that as she reached the kitchen she was 
 taken with a convulsion of the stomach and turned 
 deadl} 7 sick. She dared not complain ; she was not 
 sure that any one would help her. When she returned 
 
142 Pierrette* 
 
 to the dining-room she was white as a sheet, and, 
 saying she was not well, she started to go to bed, 
 dragging herself up step by step by the baluster and 
 thinking that she was going to die. " Poor Brigaut ! " 
 she thought. 
 
 u The girl is ill," said Rogron. 
 
 " She ill! That 's only shamming" replied Sylvie, 
 in a loud voice that Pierrette might hear. ** She was 
 well enough this morning, I can tell you/' 
 
 This last blow struck Pierrette to the earth; she 
 went to bed weeping and praying to God to take her 
 out of this world. 
 
Pierrette. 143 
 
 VII. 
 
 DOMESTIC TYRANNY. 
 
 For a month past Rogron had ceased to carry the 
 " Constitutionnel" to Gouraud ; the colonel came ob- 
 sequiously to fetch his paper, gossip a little, and take 
 Rogron off to walk if the weather was fine. Sure of 
 seeing the colonel and being able to question him, Syl- 
 vie dressed herself as coquettishly as she knew how. 
 The old maid thought she was attractive in a green 
 gown, a yellow shawl with a red border, and a white 
 bonnet with straggling gray feathers. About the hour 
 when the colonel usually came S}ivie stationed herself 
 in the salon with her brother, whom she had com- 
 pelled to stay in the house in his dressing-gown and 
 slippers. 
 
 "It is a fine day, colonel," said Rogron, when 
 Gouraud with his heavy step entered the room. " But 
 I 'm not dressed ; my sister wanted to go out, and I was 
 going to keep the house. Wait for me ; I '11 be ready 
 soon." 
 
 So saying, Rogron left Sylvie alone with the colonel. 
 
 "Where were you going? you are dressed divinely," 
 
144 Pierrette. 
 
 said Gouraud, who noticed a certain solemnity on the 
 pock-marked face of the old maid. 
 
 11 1 wanted very much to go out, but my little cousin 
 is ill, and I cannot leave her." 
 
 " What is the matter with her? " 
 
 " I don't know ; she had to go to bed." 
 
 Gouraud's caution, not to sa}' his distrust, was con- 
 stant^' excited by the results of his alliance with Vinet. 
 It certainly appeared that the lawyer had got the lion's* 
 share in their enterprise. Vinet controlled the paper, 
 he reigned as sole master over it, he took the revenues ; 
 whereas the colonel, the responsible editor, earned 
 little. Vinet and Cournant had done the Rogrons 
 great services ; whereas Gouraud, a colonel on half- 
 pay, could do nothing. Who was to be deputy ? Vinet. 
 Who was the chief authority in the party? Vinet. 
 Whom did the liberals all consult? Vinet. Moreover, 
 the colonel knew fully as well as Vinet himself the 
 extent and depth of the passion suddenly aroused in 
 Rogron by the beautiful Bathilde de Chargebceuf. 
 This passion had now become intense, like all the last 
 passions of men. Bathilde's voice made him tremble. 
 Absorbed in his desires Rogron hid them ; he dared 
 not hope for such a marriage. To sound him, the 
 colonel mentioned that he was thinking himself of ask- 
 ing for Bathilde's hand. Rogron turned pale at the 
 thought of such a formidable rival, and had since then 
 shown coldness and even hatred to Gouraud. 
 
Pierrette. 145 
 
 Thus Vinet reigned supreme in the Rogron household 
 while he, the colonel, had no hold there except by the 
 extremely hypothetical tie of his mendacious affection 
 for Sylvie, which it was not yet clear that Sylvie recip- 
 rocated. When the lawyer told him of the priest's 
 manoeuvre, and advised him to break with Sylvie and 
 marry Pierrette, he certainly flattered Gouraud's foible ; 
 but after analyzing the inner purpose of that advice and 
 examining the ground all about him, the colonel thought 
 he perceived in his ally the intention of separating him 
 from Sylvie, and profiting by^ her fears to throw the 
 whole Rogron property into the hands of Mademoiselle 
 de Chargeboeuf. 
 
 Therefore, when the colonel was left alone with 
 Sylvie his perspicacity possessed itself immediately of 
 certain signs which betrayed her uneasiness. He saw 
 at once that she was under arms and had made this 
 plan for seeing him alone. As he already suspected 
 Vinet of playing him some trick, he 'attributed the con- 
 ference to the instigation of the lawyer, and was in- 
 stantly on his guard, as he would have been in an 
 enemy's country, — with an eye all about him, an ear to 
 the faintest sound, his mind on the qui vive, and his 
 hand on a weapon. The colonel had the defect of 
 never believing a single word said to him by a woman ; 
 so that when the old maid brought Pierrette on the 
 scene, and told him she had gone to bed before midday, 
 10 
 
146 Pierrette. 
 
 he concluded that Sylvie had locked her up by way of 
 punishment and out of jealousy. 
 
 " She is getting to be quite pretty, that little thing," 
 he said with an easy air. 
 
 " She will be pretty," replied Mademoiselle Rogron. 
 
 " You ought to send her to Paris and put her in a 
 shop," continued the colonel. ** She would make her 
 fortune. The milliners all want pretty girls." 
 
 "Is that really your advice?" asked Sylvie, in a 
 troubled voice. 
 
 " Good ! " thought the colonel, " I was right. Vinet 
 advised me to marry Pierrette just to spoil my chance 
 with the old harridan. But," he said aloud, " what 
 else can } r ou do with her? There s that beautiful girl 
 Bathilde de Chargebceuf, noble and well-connected, 
 reduced to single-blessedness, — nobody will have her. 
 Pierrette has nothing, and she '11 never marry. As for 
 beauty, what is it? To me, for example, youth and 
 beauty are nothing ; for have n't I been a captain of 
 cavalr\ T in the imperial guard, and carried my spurs into 
 all the capitals of Europe, and known all the handsomest 
 women of these capitals ? Don't talk to me ; I tell 30U 
 youth and beaut}- are devilishly common and silly. 
 At forty-eight," he went on, adding a few years to his 
 age, to match Sylvie's, " after surviving the retreat 
 from Moscow and going through that terrible campaign 
 of France, a man is broken down ; I 'm nothing but an 
 

 Pierrette. 147 
 
 old fellow now. A woman like you would pet me and 
 care for me, and her money, joined to my poor pension, 
 would give me ease in my old days ; of course I should 
 prefer such a woman to a little minx who would worry 
 the life out of me, and be thirty years old, with passions, 
 when I should be sixty, with rheumatism. At my age, 
 a man considers and calculates. To tell } T ou the truth 
 between ourselves, I should not wish to have children." 
 
 Sylvie's face was an open book to the colonel during 
 this tirade, and her next question proved to him Vinet's 
 perfidy. 
 
 " Then you don't love Pierrette? " she said. 
 
 " Heavens ! are j t ou out of your mind, my dear 
 Sylvie?" he cried. "Can those who have no teeth 
 crack nuts? Thank God I 've got some common- 
 sense and know what I 'm about." 
 
 Sylvie thus reassured resolved not to show her own 
 hand, and thought herself very shrewd in putting her 
 own ideas into her brother's mouth. 
 
 " Jer6me," she said, " thought of the match." 
 
 " How could j'our brother take up such an incongru- 
 ous idea ? Why, it is only a few days ago that, in order 
 to find out his secrets, I told him I loved Bathilde. 
 He turned as white as your collar." 
 
 "My brother! does he love Bathilde?" asked 
 Sylvie. 
 
 " Madly, — and yet Bathilde is only after his money." 
 
148 Pierrette. 
 
 (" One for you, Vinet ! " thought the colonel.) " I can't 
 understand wiry he should have told you that about 
 Pierrette. No, Sylvie," he said, taking her hand 
 and pressing it in a certain way, " since you have 
 opened this matter" (he drew nearer to her), "well" 
 (he kissed her hand ; as a cavalr}' captain he had 
 already proved his courage), "let me tell you that I 
 desire no wife but 3 T on. Though such a marriage may 
 look like one of convenience, I feel, on nry side, a sin- 
 cere affection for you." 
 
 " But if I wish you to marry Pierrette? if I leave 
 her my fortune — eh, colonel?" 
 
 " But I don't want to be miserable in my home, and 
 in less than ten years see a popinja}' like Julliard 
 hovering round my wife and addressing verses to her 
 in the newspapers. I 'm too much of a man to stand 
 that. No, I will never make a marriage that is dispro- 
 portionate in age." 
 
 11 Well, colonel, we will talk seriously of this another 
 time," said Sylvie, casting a glance upon him which 
 she supposed to be full of love, though, in point of fact, 
 it was a good deal like that of an ogress. Her cold, 
 blue lips of a violet tinge drew back from the yellow 
 teeth, and she thought she smiled. 
 
 "I'm ready," said Rogron, coming in and carrying 
 off the colonel, who bowed in a lover-like way to the 
 old maid. 
 
Pierrette. 149 
 
 Gouraud determined to press on his marriage with 
 Sylvie, and make himself master of the house ; resolving 
 to rid himself, through his influence over Sylvie during 
 the honeymoon, of Bathilde and Celeste Habert. So, 
 during their walk, he told Rogron he had been joking 
 the other day ; that he had no real intention of aspiring 
 to Bathilde ; that he was not rich enough to marry a 
 woman without a fortune ; and then he confided to him 
 his real wishes, declaring that he had long chosen 
 Sylvie for her good qualities, — in short, he aspired to 
 the honor of being Rogron's brother-in-law. 
 
 14 Ah, colonel, my dear baron ! if nothing is wanting 
 but my eonsent you have it with no further delay than 
 the law requires," cried Rogron, delighted to be rid of 
 his formidable rival. 
 
 Sylvie spent the morning in her own room consider- 
 ing how the new household could be arranged. She 
 determined to build a second storey for her brother and 
 to furnish the first for herself and her husband ; but she 
 also resolved, in the true old-maidish spirit, to subject 
 the colonel to certain proofs by which to judge of his 
 heart and his morals before she finally committed her- 
 self. She was still suspicious, and wanted to make 
 sure that Pierrette had no private intercourse with the 
 colonel. 
 
 Pierrette came down before the dinner-hour to lay 
 the table. Sylvie had been forced to cook the dinner, 
 
150 Pierrette. 
 
 and had sworn at that " cursed Pierrette " for a spot 
 she had made on her gown, — wasn't it plain that if 
 Pierrette had done her own work Sylvie would n't have 
 got that grease-spot on her silk dress ? 
 
 " Oh, here you are, peakling ! You are like the dog 
 of the marshal who woke up as soon as the saucepans 
 rattled. Ha! you want us to think you are ill, you 
 little liar ! " 
 
 That idea: " You did not tell the truth about what 
 happened in the square this morning, therefore you lie 
 in everything," was a hammer with which Sylvie bat- 
 tered the head and also the heart of the poor girl 
 incessantly. 
 
 To Pierrette's great astonishment Sylvie sent her to 
 dress in her best clothes after dinner. The liveliest 
 imagination is never up to the level of the activity 
 which suspicion excites in the mind of an old maid. 
 In this particular case, this particular old maid carried 
 the day against politicians, lawyers, notaries, and all 
 other self-interests. Sylvie determined to consult Vinet, 
 after examining herself into all the suspicious circum- 
 stances. She kept Pierrette close to her, so as to find 
 out from the girl's face whether the colonel had told 
 her the truth. 
 
 On this particular evening the Chargeboeuf ladies 
 were the first to arrive. Bathilde, by Vinet's advice, 
 had become more elaborate in her dress. She now 
 
Pierrette. 151 
 
 wore a charming gown of blue velveteen, with the 
 same transparent fichu, garnet pendants in her ears, 
 her hair in ringlets, the wily jeannette round her throat, 
 black satin slippers, gray silk stockings, and gants de 
 Sue~de ; add to these things the manners of a queen 
 and the coquetry of a young girl determined to cap- 
 ture Rogron. Her mother, calm and dignified, re- 
 tained, as did her daughter, a certain aristocratic 
 insolence, with which the two women hedged themselves 
 and preserved the spirit of their caste. Bathilde was a 
 woman of intelligence, a fact which Vinet alone had 
 discovered during the two months' stay the ladies had 
 made at- his house. When he had fully fathomed the 
 mind of the girl, wounded and disappointed as it was 
 by the fruitlessness of her beauty and her 3-outh, and 
 enlightened by the contempt she felt for the men of a 
 period in which money was the only idol, Vinet, him- 
 self surprised, exclaimed, — 
 
 " If I could only have married 3-ou, Bathilde, I 
 should to-day be Keeper of the Seals. I should call 
 myself Vinet de Chargeboeuf, and take my seat as 
 deputy of the Right." 
 
 Bathilde had no vulgar idea in her marriage inten- 
 tions. She did not marry to be a mother, nor to pos- 
 sess a husband ; she married for freedom, to gain a 
 responsible position, to be called " madame," and to 
 act as men act. Rogron was nothing but a name to 
 
152 Pierrette. 
 
 her; she expected to make something of the fool, — a 
 voting deputy, for instance, whose instigator she would 
 be ; moreover she longed to avenge herself on her 
 family, who had taken no notice of a girl without 
 money. Vinet had much enlarged and strengthened 
 her ideas by admiring and approving them. 
 
 u My dear Bathilde," he said, while explaining to 
 her the influence of women, and showing her the sphere 
 of action in which she ought to work, " do you sup- 
 pose that Tiphaine, a man of the most ordinary ca- 
 pacity, could ever get to be a judge of the Royal court 
 in Paris by himself ? No, it is Madame Tiphaine who 
 has got him elected deputy, and it is she who will push 
 him when they get to Paris. Her mother, Madame 
 Roguin, is a shrewd woman, who does what she likes 
 with the famous banker du Tillet, a crony of Nucin- 
 gen, and both of them allies of the Kellers. The 
 administration is on the best of terms with those 
 lynxes of the bank. There is no reason why Tiphaine 
 should not be judge, through his wife, of a Royal 
 court. Marry Rogron ; we '11 have him elected deputy 
 from Provins as soon as I gain another precinct in the 
 Seine-et-Marne. You can then get him a place as 
 receiver-general, where he'll have nothing to do but 
 sign his name. We shall belong to the opposition if 
 the Liberals triumph, but if the Bourbons remain — 
 ah ! then we shall lean gently, gently towards the 
 
Pierrette. 153 
 
 sntre. Besides, you must remember Rogron can't 
 live forever, and then you can marry a titled man. 
 In short, put yourself in a good position, and the 
 Chargeboeufs will be ready enough to serve us. Your 
 poverty has no doubt taught you, as mine did me, to 
 know what men are worth. We must make use of 
 them as we do of post-horses. A man, or a woman, 
 will take us along to such or such a distance." 
 
 Vinet ended by making Bathilde a small edition of 
 Catherine de Medicis. He left his wife at home, re- 
 joiced to be alone with her two children, while he 
 went every night to the Rogrons' with Madame and 
 Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf. He arrived there in all 
 the glory of better circumstances. His spectacles were 
 of gold, his waistcoat silk ; a white cravat, black 
 trousers, thin boots, a black coat made in Paris, and 
 a gold watch and chain, made up his apparel. In 
 place of the former Vinet, pale and thin, snarling and 
 gloomy, the present Vinet bore himself with the air 
 and manner of a man of importance ; he marched 
 boldly forward, certain of success, with that peculiar 
 show of security which belongs to lawyers who know 
 the hidden places of the law. His sly little head was 
 well-brushed, his chin well shaved, which gave him a 
 mincing though frigid look, that made him seem agree- 
 able in the style of Robespierre. Certainly he would 
 make a fine attorney-general, endowed with elastic, 
 
154 Pierrette. 
 
 mischievous, and even murderous eloquence, or an orator 
 of the shrewd type of Benjamin Constant. The bitter- 
 ness and the hatred which formerly actuated him had 
 now turned into soft-spoken perfidy; the poison was 
 transformed into anodyne. 
 
 4 'Good-evening, my dear; how are you?" said Ma- 
 dame de Chargeboeuf, greeting Sylvie. 
 
 Bathilde went straight to the fireplace, took off her 
 bonnet, looked at herself in the glass, and placed her 
 pretty foot on the fender that Rogron might admire it. 
 
 "What is the matter with 3 r ou?" she said to him, 
 looking directly in his face. "You have not bowed 
 to me. Pray why should we put on our best velvet 
 gowns to please 30U?" 
 
 She pushed past Pierrette to lay down her hat, 
 which the latter took from her hand, and which she let 
 her take exactly as though she were a servant. Men 
 are supposed to be ferocious, and tigers too ; but 
 neither tigers, vipers, diplomatists, lawyers, execu- 
 tioners or kings ever approach, in their greatest atroci- 
 ties, the gentle cruelty, the poisoned sweetness, the 
 savage disdain of one young woman for another, when 
 she thinks herself superior in birth, or fortune, or 
 grace, and some question of marriage, or precedence, 
 or any of the feminine rivalries, is raised. The " Thank 
 you, mademoiselle," which Bathilde said to Pierrette 
 was a poem in many strophes. She was named Ba- 
 
Pierrette. 155 
 
 thilde, and the other Pierrette. She was a Chargeboeuf, 
 the other a Lorrain. Pierrette was small and weak, 
 Bathilde was tall and full of life. Pierrette was living 
 on charity, Bathilde and her mother lived on their 
 means. Pierrette wore a stuff gown with a chemisette, 
 Bathilde made the velvet of hers undulate. Bathilde 
 had the finest shoulders in the department, and the 
 arm of a queen; Pierrette's shoulder-blades were skin 
 and bone. Pierrette was Cinderella, Bathilde was the 
 fairy. Bathilde was about to marry, Pierrette was to 
 die a maid. Bathilde was adored, Pierrette was loved 
 by none. Bathilde's hair was ravishingly dressed, she 
 had so much taste ; Pierrette's was hidden beneath her 
 Breton cap, and she knew nothing of the fashions. 
 Moral, Bathilde was everything, Pierrette nothing. 
 The proud little Breton girl understood this tragic 
 poem. 
 
 " Good-evening, little girl," said Madame de Charge- 
 boeuf, from the height of her condescending grandeur, 
 and in the tone of voice which her pinched nose gave 
 her. 
 
 Vinet put the last touch to this sort of insult by look- 
 ing fixedly at Pierrette and saying, in three keys, 
 "Oh! oh! oh! how fine we are to-night, Pierrette!" 
 
 " Fine ! " said the poor child ; " 3-011 should say that 
 to Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf, not to me." 
 
 " Oh ! she is always beautifully dressed," replied the 
 
156 Pierrette. 
 
 lawyer. "Isn't she, Rogron?" he added, turning to 
 the master of the house, and grasping his hand. 
 
 41 Yes," said Rogron. 
 
 44 Why do you force him to say what he does not 
 think?" said Bathilde ; 4 ' nothing about me pleases 
 him. Is n't that true ? " she added, going up to Ro- 
 gron and standing before him. " Look at me, and say 
 if it is n't true. " 
 
 Rogron looked at her from head to foot, and gently 
 closed his eyes like a cat whose head is being scratched. 
 
 44 You are too beautiful," he said; 44 too dangerous." 
 
 44 Why?" 
 
 Rogron looked at the fire and was silent. Just then 
 Mademoiselle Habert entered the room, followed by 
 the colonel. 
 
 Celeste Habert, who had now become the common 
 enemy, could only reckon Sylvie on her side ; never- 
 theless, ever3 T bod} r present showed her the more civile 
 and amiable attention because each was undermining 
 her. Her brother, though no longer able to be on the 
 scene of action, was well aware of what was going on, 
 and as soon as he perceived that his sister's hopes were 
 killed he became an implacable and terrible antagonist 
 to the Rogrons. 
 
 Every one will immediately picture to themselves 
 Mademoiselle Habert when they know that if she had 
 not kept an institution for young ladies she would 
 
Pierrette. 157 
 
 still have had the air of a school-mistress. School- 
 mistresses have a way of their own in putting on their 
 caps. Just as old Englishwomen have acquired a 
 monopoly in turbans, schoolmistresses have a monopoly 
 of these caps. Flowers nod above the frame-work, 
 flowers that are more than artificial; lying by in 
 closets for years the cap is both new and old, even 
 on the day it is first worn. These spinsters make it a 
 point of honor to resemble the lay figures of a painter ; 
 they sit on their hips, never on their chairs. When 
 any one speaks to them they turn their whole busts 
 instead of simply turning their heads ; and when their 
 gowns creak one is tempted to believe that the mech- 
 anism of these beings is out of order. Mademoiselle 
 Habert, an ideal of her species, had a stern eye, a 
 grim mouth, and beneath her wrinkled chin the strings 
 of her cap, always limp and faded, floated as she moved. 
 Two moles, rather large and brown, adorned that chin, 
 and from them sprouted hairs which she allowed to 
 grow rampant like clematis. And finally, to complete 
 her portrait, she took snuff, and took it ungracefully. 
 
 The company went to work at their boston. Made- 
 moiselle Habert sat opposite to Sylvie, with the colonel 
 at her side opposite to Madame de Chargebceuf. 
 Bathilde was near her mother and Rogron. Sylvie 
 placed Pierrette between herself and the colonel ; 
 Rogron had set out a second card- table, in case other 
 
158 Pierrette. 
 
 company arrived. Two lamps were on the chimne}-- 
 piece between the candelabra and the clock, and the 
 tables were lighted by candles at fort}- sous a pound, 
 paid for by the price of the cards. 
 
 " Come, Pierrette, take your work, my dear," said 
 Sylvie, with treacherous softness, noticing that the girl 
 was watching the colonel's game. 
 
 She usually affected to treat Pierrette well before 
 compan}^. This deception irritated the honest Bre- 
 ton girl, and made her despise her cousin. She 
 took her embroider}", but as she drew her stitches she 
 still watched Gouraud's play. Gouraud behaved as 
 if he did not know the girl was near him. Sylvie 
 noticed this apparent indifference and thought it ex- 
 tremely suspicious. Presently she undertook a grande 
 misere in hearts, the pool being full of counters, 
 besides containing twentj-seven sous. The rest of the 
 company had now arrived ; among them the deputy- 
 judge Desfondrilles, who for the last two months had 
 abandoned the Tiphaine part}' and connected himself 
 more or less with the Vinets. He was standing before 
 the chimne}r-piece, with his back to the fire and the 
 tails of his coat over his arms, looking round the fine 
 salon of which Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf was the 
 shining ornament; for it really seemed as if all the 
 reds of its decoration had been made express^ to 
 enhance her style of beauty. Silence reigned ; Pierrette 
 
Pierrette. 159 
 
 was watching the game, Sylvie's attention was dis- 
 tracted from her by the interest of the grande misere. 
 
 "Play that," said Pierrette to the colonel, pointing 
 to a heart in his hand. 
 
 The colonel began a sequence in hearts ; the hearts 
 all lay between himself and Sylvie ; the colonel won 
 her ace, though it was protected by five small hearts. 
 
 " That 's not fair ! " she cried. " Pierrette saw my 
 hand, and the colonel took her advice." 
 
 "But, mademoiselle," said Celeste, "it was the 
 colonel's game to play hearts after you began them." 
 
 The scene made Monsieur Desfondrilles smile ; his 
 was a keen mind, which found much amusement in 
 watching the play of all the self-interests in Provins. 
 
 "Yes, it was certainly the colonel's game," said 
 Cournant the notary, not knowing what the question 
 was. 
 
 Sylvie threw a look at Mademoiselle Habert, — one 
 of those glances that pass from old maid to old maid, 
 feline and cruel. 
 
 "Pierrette, you did see my hand," said Sylvie fixing 
 her eyes on the girl. 
 
 " No, cousin." 
 
 " I was looking at 3 T ou all," said the deputy -judge, 
 " and I can swear that Pierrette saw no one's hand but 
 the colonel's." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Gouraud, alarmed, " little girls know 
 how to slide their eyes into everything." 
 
160 Pierrette. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Sj'lvie. 
 
 "Yes," continued Gouraud. " I dare say she 
 looked into your hand to play j t ou a trick. Did n't 
 you, little one?" 
 
 " No," said the truthful Breton, " I would n't do 
 such a thing; if I had, it would have been in my 
 cousin's interests." 
 
 "You know you are a story-teller and a little fool," 
 cried Sylvie. " After what happened this morning do 
 you suppose I can believe a word you say ? You are 
 a—" 
 
 Pierrette did not wait for Sj'lvie to finish her sen- 
 tence ; foreseeing a torrent of insults, she rushed away 
 without a light and ran to her room. Sylvie turned 
 white with anger and muttered between her teeth, 
 " She shall pay for this ! " 
 
 "Shall you pay for the misere?" said Madame de 
 Chargebceuf. 
 
 As she spoke Pierrette struck her he'ad against the 
 door of the passage which some one had left open. 
 
 " Good ! I 'm glad of it," cried Sylvie, as they heard 
 the blow. 
 
 " She must be hurt," said Desfondrilles. 
 
 " She deserves it," replied Sylvie. 
 
 "It was a bad blow," said Mademoiselle Habert. 
 
 Sylvie thought she might escape paying her misere if 
 she went to see after Pierrette ; but Madame de Charge- 
 bceuf stopped her. 
 
Pierrette. 161 
 
 " Pay us first," she said, laughing ; " you will forget 
 it when you come back." 
 
 The' remark, based on the old maid's trickery and 
 her bad faith in paying her debts at cards was approved 
 by the others. Sylvie sat down and thought no more 
 of Pierrette, — an indifference which surprised no one. 
 When the game was over, about half past nine o'clock, 
 she flung herself into an easy chair at the corner of the 
 fireplace and did not even rise as her guests departed. 
 The colonel was torturing her ; she did not know what 
 to think of him. 
 
 " Men are so false ! " she cried, as she went to bed. 
 
 Pierrette had given herself a frightful blow on the 
 head, just above the ear, at the spot where young girls 
 part their hair when they put their "front hair" in 
 curlpapers. The next day there was a large swelling. 
 
 " God has punished you," said Sylvie at the break- 
 fast table. " You disobeyed me ; you treated me with 
 disrespect in leaving the room before I had finished my 
 sentence ; you "got what you deserved." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Rogron, " she ought to put on 
 a compress of salt and water." 
 
 " Oh, it is nothing at all, cousin/' said Pierrette. 
 
 The poor child had reached a point when even such 
 a remark seemed to her a proof of kindness. 
 11 
 
162 Pierrette. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE LOVES OF JACQUES AND PIERRETTE. 
 
 The week ended as it had begun, in continual tor- 
 ture. Sylvie grew ingenious, and found refinements of 
 tyranny with almost savage cruelty ; the red Indians 
 might have taken a lesson from her. Pierrette dared 
 not complain of her vague sufferings, nor of the actual 
 pains she now felt in her head. The origin of her 
 cousin's present anger was the non-revelation of Bri- 
 gaut's arrival. With Breton obstinacy Pierrette was de- 
 termined to keep silence, — a resolution that is perfectly 
 explicable. It is easy to see how her thoughts turned 
 to Brigaut, fearing some danger for him if he were dis- 
 covered, yet instinctive^ longing to have him near her, 
 and happy in knowing he was in Provins. What joy 
 to have seen him ! That single glimpse was like the 
 look an exile casts upon his country, or the martyr lifts 
 to heaven, where his eyes, gifted with second-sight, 
 can enter while flames consume his bod}'. 
 
 Pierrette's glance had been so thoroughly understood 
 by the major's son that, as he planed his planks or 
 opened his compass or took his measures or joined his 
 
Pierrette. 163 
 
 wood, he was working his brains to find out some way 
 of communicating with her. He ended by choosing the 
 simplest of all schemes. At a certain hour of the 
 night Pierrette must lower a letter by a string from her 
 window. In the midst of the girl's own sufferings, she 
 too was sustained by the hope of being able to commu- 
 nicate with Brigaut. The same desire was in both 
 hearts ; parted, they understood each other ! At every 
 shock to her heart, every throb of pain in her head, 
 Pierrette said to herself, "Brigaut is here!" and that 
 thought enabled her to live without complaint. 
 
 One morning in the market, Brigaut, lying in wait, 
 was able to get near her. Though he saw her tremble 
 and turn pale, like an autumn leaf about to flutter 
 down, he did not lose his head, but quietly bought 
 fruit of the market-woman with whom Sylvie was bar- 
 gaining. He found his chance of slipping a note to 
 Pierrette, all the while joking the woman with the 
 ease of a man accustomed to such manoeuvres ; so cool 
 was he in action, though the blood hummed in his 
 ears and rushed boiling through his veins and arteries. 
 He had the firmness of a galley-slave without, and 
 the shrinkings of innocence within him, — like certain 
 mothers in their moments of mortal trial, when held 
 between two dangers, two catastrophes. 
 
 Pierrette's inward commotion was like Brigaut's. She 
 slipped the note into the pocket of her apron. The 
 
164 Pierrette. 
 
 hectic spots upon er cheekbones turned to a cheny- 
 scarlet. These two children went through, all unknown 
 to themselves, many more emotions than go to the 
 make-up of a dozen ordinary loves. This moment in 
 the market-place left in their souls a well-spring of 
 passionate feeling. Sylvie, who did not recognize the 
 Breton accent, took no notice of Brigaut, and Pierrette 
 went home safely with her treasure. 
 
 The letters of these two poor children were fated to 
 serve as documents in a terrible judicial inquiry; 
 otherwise, without the fatal circumstances that occa- 
 sioned that inquiry, they would never have been heard 
 of. Here is the one which Pierrette read that night in 
 her chamber : — 
 
 My dear Pierrette, — At midnight, when every- 
 body is asleep but me, who am watching you, I will 
 come every night under your window. Let down a 
 string long enough to reach me ; it will not make any 
 noise ; you must fasten to the end of it whatever you 
 write to me. I will tie my letter in the same way. I 
 hear they have taught you to read and write, — those 
 wicked relations who were to do you good, and have 
 done } r ou so much harm. You, Pierrette, the daughter 
 of a colonel who died for France, reduced by those 
 monsters to be their servant! That is where all 
 your pretty color and your health have gone. My 
 
Pierrette. 165 
 
 Pierrette, what has become of her? what have they 
 done with her. I see plainly you are not the same, 
 not happy. Oh ! Pierrette, let us go back to Brittany. 
 I can earn enough now to give you what you need ; for 
 you yourself can earn three francs a day and I can 
 earn four or five ; and thirty sous is all I want to live 
 on. Ah ! Pierrette, how I have prayed the good God 
 for yoxx ever since I came here ! I have asked him to 
 give me all your sufferings, and you all pleasures. 
 Why do you stay with them ? why do they keep you ? 
 Your grandmother is more to you than they. They are 
 vipers ; they have taken your gayety away from you. 
 You do not even walk as you once did in Brittanj'. 
 Let us go back. I am here to serve you, to do your 
 will ; tell me what you wish. If you need money I 
 have a hundred and fifty francs ; I can send them up 
 by the string, though I would like to kiss your dear 
 hands and lay the money in them. Ah, dear Pierrette, 
 it is a long time now that the blue sky has been over- 
 cast for me. I have not had two hours' happiness since 
 I put you into that diligence of evil. And when I saw 
 you the other morning, looking like a shadow, I could 
 not reach you ; that hag of a cousin came between us. 
 But at least we can have the consolation of praying to 
 God together every Sunday in church ; perhaps he will 
 hear us all the more when we pray together. 
 Not good-by, my dear, Pierrette, but to-night" 
 
166 Pierrette. 
 
 This letter so affected Pierrette that she sat for more 
 than an hour reading and re-reading and gazing at it. 
 Then she remembered with anguish that she had noth- 
 ing to write with. She summoned courage to make 
 the difficult journey from her garret to the dining-room, 
 where she obtained pen, paper, and ink, and returned 
 safety without waking her terrible cousin. A few 
 minutes before midnight she had finished the following 
 letter : — 
 
 Mr Friend, — Oh! yes, my friend; for there is no 
 one but you, Jacques, and my grandmother to love 
 me. God forgive me, but you are the only two persons 
 whom I love, both alike, neither more nor less. I was 
 too little to know my dear mamma ; but 30U, Jacques, 
 and my grandmother, and my grandfather, — God grant 
 him heaven, for he suffered much from his ruin, which 
 was mine, — but you two who are left, I love you both, 
 unhappy as I am. Indeed, to know how much I love 
 you, 30U will have to know how much I suffer ; but 
 I don't wish that, it would grieve 3 T ou too much. They 
 speak to me as we would not speak to a dog; they 
 treat me like the worst of girls ; and yet I do examine 
 myself before God, and I cannot find that I do wrong 
 by them. Before you sang to me the marriage song I 
 saw the mercy of God in my sufferings ; for I had 
 prayed to him to take me from the world, and I felt so 
 
Pierrette. 167 
 
 ill I said to myself, " God hears me ! " But, Jacques, 
 now you are here, I want to live and go back to Brit- 
 tany, to my grandmamma who loves me, though they 
 say she stole eight thousand francs of mine. Jacques, 
 is that so ? If they are mine could you get them ! But 
 it is not true, for if my grandmother had eight thou- 
 sand francs she would not live at Saint-Jacques. 
 
 I don't want to trouble her last da}"s, my kind, good 
 grandmamma, with the knowledge of my troubles ; she 
 might die of it. Ah ! if she knew they made her 
 grandchild scrub the pots and pans, — she who used to 
 say to me, when I wanted to help her after her troubles, 
 "Don't touch that, my darling; leave it — leave it — 
 you will spoil your pretty fingers." Ah ! my hands 
 are never clean now. Sometimes I can hardty carry 
 the basket home from market, it cuts my arm. Still I 
 don't think my cousins mean to be cruel ; but it is their 
 way always to scold, and it seems that I have no right 
 to leave them. My cousin Rogron is my guardian. 
 One day when I wanted to run away because I could 
 not bear it, and told them so, my cousin Sylvie said the 
 gendarmes would go after me, for the law was my mas- 
 ter. Oh! I know now that cousins cannot take the 
 place of father or mother, any more than the saints can 
 take the place of God. 
 
 My poor Jacques, what do you suppose I could do 
 with your money? Keep it for our journey. Oh J 
 
168 Pierrette. 
 
 how I think of } t ou and Pen-Hoel, and the big pond, — 
 that's where we had our only happy days. I shall 
 have no more, for I feel I am going from bad to worse. 
 I am veiy ill, Jacques. I have dreadful pains in my 
 head, and in my bones, and back, which kill me, and 
 I have no appetite except for horrid things, — roots and 
 leaves and such things. Sometimes I cr} r , when I am 
 all alone, for they won't let me do anything I like if 
 they know it, not even cry. I have to hide to offer my 
 tears to Him to whom we owe the mercies which we 
 call afflictions. It must have been He who gave you 
 the blessed thought to come and sing the marriage song 
 beneath my window. Ah ! Jacques, m} 7 cousin heard 
 you, and she said I had a lover. If you wish to be my 
 lover, love me well. I promise to love you always, 
 as I did in the past, and to be 
 
 Your faithful servant, 
 
 Pierrette Lorrain. 
 You will love me always, won't you? 
 
 She had brought a crust of bread from the kitchen, in 
 which she now made a hole for the letter, and fastened 
 it like a weight to her string. At midnight, having 
 opened her window with extreme caution, she lowered 
 the letter with the crust, which made no noise against 
 either the wall of the house or the blinds. Presently 
 she felt the string pulled by Brigaut, who broke it and 
 
Pierrette. 169 
 
 then crept softly away. When he reached the middle 
 of the square she could see him indistinct^ by the 
 starlight ; but he saw her quite clearly in the zone of 
 light thrown by the candle. The two children stood 
 thus for over an hour, Pierrette making him signs to go, 
 he starting, she remaining, he coming back to his post, 
 and Pierrette again signing that he must leave her. 
 This was repeated till the child closed her window, 
 went to bed, and blew out the candle. Once in bed 
 she fell asleep, happy in heart though suffering in 
 body, — she had Brigaut's letter under her pillow. 
 She slept as the persecuted sleep, — a slumber bright 
 with angels ; that slumber full of heavenly arabesques, 
 in atmospheres of gold and lapis-lazuli, perceived and 
 given to us by Raffaelle. 
 
 The moral nature had such empire over that frail 
 physical nature that on the morrow Pierrette rose light 
 and jo3 r ous as a lark, as radiant and as gay. Such a 
 change could not escape the vigilant eye of her cousin 
 Sylvie, who, this time, instead of scolding her, set 
 about watching her with the scrutiny of a magpie. 
 " What reason is there for such happiness?" was a 
 thought of jealousy, not of tyranny. If the colonel 
 had not been in Sylvie's mind she would have said to 
 Pierrette as formerly, " Pierrette, } r ou are very noisj 7 , 
 and very regardless of what you have often been told." 
 But now the old maid resolved to spy upon her as only 
 
170 Pierrette. 
 
 old maids can spy. The day was still and gloomy, 
 like the weather that precedes a storm. 
 
 " You don't appear to be ill now, mademoiselle," said 
 Sylvie at dinner. u Did n't I tell you she put it all on 
 to annoy us ? " she cried, addressing her brother, and 
 not waiting for Pierrette's answer. 
 
 " On the contrary, cousin, I have a sort of fever — " 
 
 u Fever! what fever? You are as gay as a lark. 
 Perhaps you have seen some one again ? " 
 
 Pierrette trembled and dropped her eyes on her 
 plate. 
 
 " Tartufe ! " cried Sylvie ; " and only fourteen years 
 old ! what a nature ! Do you mean to come to a bad 
 end?" 
 
 "I don't know what you mean," said Pierrette, 
 raising her sweet and luminous brown eyes to her 
 cousin. 
 
 "This evening," said S3 T lvie, " you are to stay in 
 the dining-room with a candle, and do your sewing. 
 You are not wanted in the salon ; I sha'n't have you 
 looking into nry hand to help your favorites." 
 
 Pierrette made no sign. 
 
 " Artful creature ! " cried Sylvie, leaving the room. 
 
 Rogron, who did not understand his sister's anger, 
 said to Pierrette: "What is all this about? Try to 
 please your cousin, Pierrette ; she is ver}- indulgent to 
 3'ou, very gentle, and if you put her out of temper the 
 
Pierrette. 171 
 
 fault is certainly 3'ours. Why do } T ou squabble so? 
 For my part I like to live in peace. Look at Mademoi- 
 selle Bathilde and take pattern by her." 
 
 Pierrette felt able to bear everj'thing. Brigaut would 
 come at midnight and bring her an answer, and that 
 hope was the viaticum of her da}'. But she was using 
 up her last strength. She did not go to bed, and stood 
 waiting for the hour to strike. At last midnight 
 sounded ; softly she opened the window ; this time she 
 used a string made by tying bits of twine together. 
 She had heard Brigaut's step, and on drawing up the 
 cord she found the following letter, which filled her 
 with joy : — 
 
 My dear Pierrette, — As you are so ill you must 
 not tire yourself by waiting for me. You will hear me 
 if I cry like an owl. Happily my father taught me to 
 imitate their note. So when you hear the cry three 
 times you will know I am there, and then you must let 
 down the cord. But I shall not come again for some 
 days. I hope then to bring you good news. 
 
 Oh ! Pierrette, don't talk of dying ! Pierrette, don't 
 think such things ! All nry heart shook, I felt as 
 thougk I were dead myself at the mere idea. No, my 
 Pierrette, j t ou must not die ; you will live happy, and 
 soon yo\x shall be delivered from your persecutors. If 
 I do not succeed in what I am undertaking for your 
 
172 Pierrette. 
 
 rescue, I shall appeal to the law, and I shall speak out 
 before heaven and earth and tell how } r our wicked 
 relations are treating you. I am certain that you have 
 not many more days to suffer; have patience, my 
 Pierrette ! Jacques is watching over 3-011 as in the 
 old days when we slid on the pond and I pulled you out 
 of the hole in which we were nearly drowned together. 
 
 Adieu, m3 T dear Pierrette ; in a few da3's, if God 
 wills, we shall be happ3 T . Alas, I dare not tell 3 r ou the 
 only thing that may hinder our meeting. But God 
 loves us ! In a few days I shall see my dear Pierrette 
 at liberty, without troubles, without an3 r one to hinder 
 my looking at 3*011 — for, ah ! Pierrette, I hunger to see 
 3'ou — Pierrette, Pierrette, who deigns to love me and 
 to tell me so. Yes, Pierrette, I will be your lover 
 when I have earned the fortune you deserve ; till then 
 I will be to you only a devoted servant whose life is 
 yours to do what 3-ou please with it. Adieu. 
 
 Jacques Brigaut. 
 
 Here is a letter of which the major's son said nothing 
 to Pierrette. He wrote it to Madame Lorrain at 
 Nantes : — 
 
 Madame Lorrain, — Your granddaughter will die, 
 worn-out with ill-treatment, if 3'ou do not come to fetch 
 her. I could scarcely recognize her ; and to show 3'ou 
 
Pierrette. 173 
 
 the state of things I inclose a letter I have received 
 from Pierrette. You are thought here to have taken 
 the money of your granddaughter, and }*ou ought to 
 justify yourself. If you can, come at once. We may 
 still be happy ; but if you delay Pierrette will be dead. 
 I am, with respect, your devoted servant, 
 
 Jacques Brigaut. 
 At Monsieur Frappier's, Cabinet-maker, Grand'Rue, Provins. 
 
 Brigaut's fear was that the grandmother was dead. 
 
 Though this letter of the youth whom in her inno- 
 cence she called her lover was almost enigmatical to 
 Pierrette, she believed in it with all her virgin faith. 
 Her heart was filled with that sensation which travellers 
 in the desert feel when they see from afar the palm-trees 
 round a well. In a few days her misery would end — 
 Jacques said so. She relied on this promise of her 
 childhood's friend ; and yet, as she laid the letter be- 
 side the other, a dreadful thought came to her in 
 foreboding words. 
 
 "Poor Jacques," she said to herself, "he does not 
 know the hole into which I have now fallen ! " 
 
 Sylvie had heard Pierrette, and she had also heard 
 Brigaut under her window. She jumped out of bed and 
 rushed to the window to look through the blinds into 
 the square and there she saw, in the moonlight, a man 
 hurrying in the direction of the colonel's house, in 
 
174 Pierrette. 
 
 front of which Brigaut happened to stop. The old 
 maid gently opened her door, went upstairs, was 
 amazed to find a light in Pierrette's room, looked 
 through the keyhole, and could see nothing. 
 
 " Pierrette," she said, " are you ill?" 
 
 " No, cousin," said Pierrette, surprised. 
 
 " Why is your candle burning at this time of night? 
 Open the door ; I must know what this means." 
 
 Pierrette went to the door bare-footed, and as soon 
 as Sylvie entered the room she saw the cord, which 
 Pierrette had forgotten to put away, not dreaming of 
 a surprise. Sylvie jumped upon it. 
 
 " What is that for? " she asked. 
 
 "Nothing, cousin." 
 
 " Nothing!" she cried. "Alwa} r s lying; 3'ou'll 
 never get to heaven that way. Go to bed ; you '11 take 
 cold." 
 
 She asked no more questions and went awa}* , leaving 
 Pierrette terrified by her unusual clemency. Instead 
 of exploding with rage, Sylvie had suddenly deter- 
 mined to surprise Pierrette and the colonel together, 
 to seize their letters and confound the two lovers who 
 were deceiving her. Pierrette, inspired by a sense of 
 danger, sewed the letters into her corset and covered 
 them with calico. 
 
 Here end the loves of Pierrette and Brigaut. 
 
 Pierrette rejoiced in the thought that Jacques had 
 
Pierrette. 175 
 
 determined to hold no communication with her for 
 some days, because her cousin's suspicions would be 
 quieted by finding nothing to feed them. Sylvie did 
 in fact spend the next three nights on her legs, and 
 each evening in watching the innocent colonel, without 
 discovering either in him or in Pierrette, or in the house 
 or out of it, anything that betrayed their understand- 
 ing. She sent Pierrette to confession, and seized that 
 moment to search the child's room, with the method 
 and penetration of a spy or a custom-house officer. 
 She found nothing. Her fury reached the apogee of 
 human sentiments. If Pierrette had been there she 
 would certainly have struck her remorselessly. To a 
 woman of her temper, jealousy was less a sentiment 
 than an occupation ; she existed in it, it made her 
 heart beat, she felt emotions hitherto completely un- 
 known to her ; the slightest sound or movement kept 
 her on the qui vive ; she watched Pierrette with gloomy 
 intentness. 
 
 " That miserable little wretch will kill me," she said. 
 
 Sylvie's severity to her cousin reached the point of 
 refined cruelty, and made the deplorable condition of 
 the poor girl worse daily. She had fever regularly, 
 and the pains in her head became intolerable. Ity the 
 end of the week even the visitors at the house noticed 
 her suffering face, which would have touched to pity all 
 selfishness less cruel than theirs. It happened that 
 
176 Pierrette. 
 
 Doctor Neraud, possibly by Vmet's advice, did not 
 come to the house during that week. The colonel, 
 knowing himself suspected by Sylvie, was afraid to 
 risk his marriage by showing an}' solicitude for Pier- 
 rette. Bathilde explained the visible change in the 
 girl by her natural growth. But at last, one Sunda}' 
 evening, when Pierrette was in the salon, her suffer- 
 ings overcame her and she fainted away. The colonel, 
 who first saw her going, caught her in his arms and 
 carried her to a sofa. 
 
 " She did it on purpose," said Sylvie, looking at 
 Mademoiselle Habert and the rest who were playing 
 boston with her. 
 
 " I assure j T ou your cousin is very ill," said the 
 colonel. 
 
 " She seemed well enough in j'our arms,'* Sylvie 
 said to him in a low voice, with a savage smile. 
 
 " The colonel is right," said Madame de Chargebceuf. 
 " You ought to send for a doctor. This morning at 
 church every one was speaking, as they came out, of 
 Mademoiselle Lorrain's appearance." 
 
 "Iain dying," said Pierrette. 
 
 Desfondrilles called to Sjlvie and told her to un- 
 fasten her cousin's gown. Sylvie went up to the girl, 
 saying, M It is only a tantrum." 
 
 She unfastened the gown and was about to touch 
 the corset, when Pierrette, roused b}' the danger, sat 
 
Pierrette. ' 177 
 
 • up with superhuman strength, exclaiming, " No, no, 
 I will go to bed." 
 
 Sylvie had, however, touched the corset and felt the 
 papers. She let Pierrette go, saying to the company : 
 
 " What do 3'ou think now of her illness? I tell you 
 it is all a pretence. , You have no idea of the perversity 
 of that child." 
 
 After the card-pla} T ing was over she kept Vinet from 
 following the other guests ; she was furious and wanted 
 vengeance, and was grossly rude to the colonel when 
 he bade her good-night. Gouraud threw a look at 
 the lavfyer which threatened him to the depths of his 
 being and seemed to put a ball in his entrails. Sylvie 
 told Vinet to remain. When they were alone, she 
 said, — 
 
 "Never in my life, never in my born days, will I 
 marry the colonel." 
 
 " Now that you have come to that decision I may 
 speak," said the lawyer. "The colonel is my friend, 
 but I am more yours than his. Rogron has done me 
 services which I can never forget. I am as strong a 
 friend as I am an enemy. Once in the Chamber I 
 shall rise to power, and I will make your brother a 
 receiver-general. Now swear to me, before I say 
 more, that }'ou will never repeat w T hat I tell you." 
 (Sylvie made an affirmative sign.) " In the first place, 
 the brave colonel is a gambler — " 
 12 
 
178 Pierrette. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Sylvie. 
 
 44 If it had not been for the embarrassments this vice 
 has brought upon him, he might have been a marshal 
 of France," continued Vinet. " He is capable of run- 
 ning through your property ; but he is very astute ; you 
 cannot be sure of not having children, and } r ou told me 
 3 r ourself the risks you feared. No, if you want to 
 marry, wait till I am in the Chamber and then take 
 that old Desfondrilles, who shall be made chief justice. 
 If you want revenge on the colonel make your brother 
 marry Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf, — I can get her 
 consent ; she has two thousand francs a y ear, and you 
 will be connected with the de Chargeboeufs as I am. 
 Recollect what I tell you, the Chargeboeufs will be glad 
 to claim us for cousins some day." 
 
 44 Gouraud loves Pierrette," was Sylvie's only 
 answer. 
 
 44 He is quite capable of it," said Vinet, 4 ' and capable 
 of manying her after your death." 
 
 44 A fine calculation ! " she said. 
 
 44 1 tell you that man has the shrewdness of the 
 devil. Marry your brother and announce that you 
 mean to remain unmarried and will leave your property 
 to your nephews and nieces. That will strike a blow at 
 Gouraud and Pierrette both ! and you '11 see the faces 
 they'll make." 
 
 44 Ah ! that 's true," cried the old maid, 44 1 can serve 
 
Pierrette. 179 
 
 them both right. She shall go to a shop, and get 
 nothing from me. She has n't a sou ; let her do as we 
 did, — work." 
 
 Vinet departed, having put his plan into Sylvie's 
 head, her dogged obstinacy being well-known to him. 
 The old maid, he was certain, would think the scheme 
 her own, and carry it out. 
 
 The lawyer found the colonel in the square, smoking 
 a cigar while he waited for him. 
 
 " Halt ! " said Gouraud ; " you have pulled me down, 
 but stones enough came with me to bury you — " 
 
 "Colonel! — " 
 
 " Colonel or not, I shall give you your deserts. In 
 the first place, you shall not be deputy — " 
 
 "Colonel! — " 
 
 " I control ten votes and the election depends 
 on — " 
 
 " Colonel, listen to me. Is there no one to marry 
 but that old S} T lvie? I have just been defending you 
 to her ; you are accused and convicted of writing to 
 Pierrette ; she saw you leave your house at midnight 
 and come to the girl's window — " 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " 
 
 "She means to marry her brother to Bathilde and 
 leave her fortune to their children." 
 
 " Rogron won't have any." 
 
 " Yes he will," replied Vinet. " But I promise to 
 
180 Pierrette. 
 
 find you some young and agreeable woman with a 
 hundred and fifty thousand francs? Don't be a fool ; 
 how can you and I afford to quarrel? Things have 
 gone against you in spite of all my care ; but 30U don't 
 understand me." 
 
 "Then we must understand each other," said the 
 colonel. "Get me a wife with a hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs before the elections ; if not — look out 
 for yourself ! I don't like unpleasant bed-fellows, and 
 3'ou 've pulled the blankets all over to your side. Good- 
 evening." 
 
 "You shall see," said Vinet, grasping the colonel's 
 hand affectionately. 
 
 About one o'clock that night three clear, sharp cries 
 of an owl, wonderfully well imitated, echoed through the 
 square. Pierrette heard them in her feverish sleep ; she 
 jumped up, moist with perspiration, opened her window, 
 saw Brigaut, and flung down a ball of silk, to which he 
 fastened a letter. Sylvie, agitated by the events of 
 the day and her own indecision of mind, was not asleep ; 
 she heard the owl. 
 
 "Ah, bird of ill-omen!" she thought. " WI13*, 
 Pierrette is getting up ! What is she after? " 
 
 Hearing the attic window open softty, Sylvie rushed 
 to her own window and heard the rustle of paper 
 against her blinds. She fastened the strings of her 
 
Pierrette. 181 
 
 bed-gown and went quickly upstairs to Pierrette's room, 
 where she found the poor girl unwinding the silk and 
 freeing the letter. 
 
 M Ha ! I've caught you ! " cried the old woman, rush- 
 ing to the window, from which she saw Jacques running 
 at full speed. " Give me that letter." 
 
 " No, cousin," said Pierrette, who, by one of those 
 strong inspirations of youth sustained by her own soul, 
 rose to a grandeur of resistance such as we admire in 
 the history of certain peoples reduced to despair. 
 
 u Ha ! you will not? " cried Sylvie, advancing upon 
 the girl with a face full of hatred and fury. 
 
 Pierrette fell back to get time to put her letter in her 
 hand, which she clenched with unnatural force. Seeing 
 this manoeuvre Sylvie grasped the delicate white hand 
 of the girl in her lobster claws and tried to open it. It 
 was a frightful struggle, an infamous struggle ; it was 
 more than a physical struggle ; it assailed the mind, the 
 sole treasure of the human being, the thought, which 
 God has placed beyond all earthly power and guards 
 as the secret way between the sufferer and Himself. 
 The two women, one dying, the other in the vigor of 
 health, looked at each other fixedly. Pierrette's eyes 
 darted on her executioner the look the famous Templar 
 on the rack cast upon Philippe le Bel, who could not 
 bear it and fled thunderstricken. Sylvie, a woman and 
 a jealous woman, answered that magnetic look with 
 
182 Pierrette. 
 
 malignant flashes. A dreadful silence reigned. The 
 clenched hand of the Breton girl resisted her cousin's 
 efforts like a block of steel. Sylvie twisted Pierrette's 
 arm, she tried to force the fingers open ; unable to do 
 so she stuck her nails into the flesh. At last, in her 
 madness, she set her teeth into the wrist, trying to 
 conquer the girl by pain. Pierrette defied her still, 
 with that same terrible glance of innocence. The 
 anger of the old maid grew to such a pitch that it 
 became blind fury. She seized Pierrette's arm and 
 struck the closed fist upon the window-sill, and then 
 upon the marble of the mantelpiece, as we crack a nut 
 to get the kernel. 
 
 "Help! help!" cried Pierrette, "they are murder- 
 ing me ! " 
 
 " Ha ! you may well scream, when I catch you with 
 a lover in the dead of night." 
 
 And she beat the hand pitilessly. 
 
 " Help ! help ! " cried Pierrette, the blood flowing. 
 
 At that instant loud knocks were heard at the front 
 door. Exhausted, the two women paused a moment. 
 
 Rogron, awakened and uneasy, not knowing what 
 was happening, had got up, gone to his sister's room, 
 and not finding her was frightened. Hearing the 
 knocks he went down, unfastened the front door, and 
 was nearly knocked over by Brigaut, followed by a 
 sort of phantom. 
 
A *■ 4-Ulr, 
 
 Pierrette. 183 
 
 At this moment Sylvie's eyes chanced to fall on 
 Pierrette's corset, and she remembered the papers. 
 Releasing the girl's wrist she sprang upon the corset 
 like a tiger on its pre} r , and showed it to Pierrette with 
 a smile, — the smile of an Iroquois over his victim 
 before he scalps him. 
 
 "I am dying," said Pierrette, falling on her knees, 
 " oh, who will save me? " 
 
 " I ! " said a woman with white hair and an aged 
 parchment face, in which two gray eyes glittered. 
 
 u Ah! grandmother, you have come too late," cried 
 the poor child, bursting into tears. 
 
 Pierrette fell upon her bed, her strength all gone, 
 half-dead with the exhaustion which, in her feeble state, 
 followed so violent a struggle. The tall gray woman 
 took her in her arms, as a nurse lifts a child, and went 
 out, followed by Brigaut, without a word to Sylvie, on 
 whom she cast one glance of majestic accusation. 
 
 The apparition of that august old woman, in her 
 Breton costume, shrouded in her coif (a sort of hooded 
 mantle of black cloth), accompanied by Brigaut, ap- 
 palled Sylvie ; she fancied she saw death. She slowly 
 went down the stairs, listened to the front door closing 
 behind them, and came face to face with her brother, 
 who exclaimed : " Then they have n't killed }*ou? " 
 
 M Go to bed," said Sylvie. " To-morrow we will see 
 what we must do." 
 
184 Pierrette. 
 
 She went back to her own bed, ripped open the 
 corset, and read Brigaut's two letters, which confounded 
 her. She went to sleep in the greatest perplexity, — not 
 imagining the terrible results to which her conduct was 
 to lead. 
 
 The letters sent by Brigaut to old Madame Lorrain 
 reached her in a moment of ineffable joy, which the 
 perusal of them troubled. The poor old woman had 
 grieved deeply in living without her Pierrette beside 
 her, but she had consoled her loneliness with the 
 thought that the sacrifice of herself was in the interests 
 of her grandchild. She was blessed with one of those 
 ever-young hearts which are upheld and invigorated by 
 the idea of sacrifice. Her old husband, whose only jo} T 
 was his little granddaughter, had grieved for Pierrette ; 
 every day he had seemed to look for her. It was an 
 old man's grief, — on which such old men live, of which 
 they die. 
 
 Every one can now imagine the happiness which 
 this poor old woman, living in a sort of almshouse, 
 felt when she learned of a generous action, rare indeed 
 but not impossible in France. The head of the house 
 of Collinet, whose failure in 1814 had caused the 
 Lorrains a loss of twenty-four thousand francs, had 
 gone to America with his children after his disasters. 
 He had too high a courage to remain a ruined man. 
 
Pierrette. 185 
 
 After eleven years of untold effort crowned by success 
 he returned to Nantes to recover his position, leaving 
 his eldest son in charge of his transatlantic house. He 
 found Madame Lorrain of Pen-Hoel in the institution 
 of Saint-Jacques, and was witness of the resignation 
 with which this most unfortunate of his creditors bore 
 her misery. 
 
 " God forgive you ! " said the old woman, " since you 
 give me on the borders of my grave the means of se- 
 curing the happiness of my dear granddaughter ; but 
 alas ! it will not clear the debts of my poor husband ! " 
 
 Monsieur Collinet made over to the widow both the 
 capital and the accrued interest, amounting to about 
 forty-two thousand francs. His other creditors, pros- 
 perous, rich, and intelligent merchants, had easily 
 borne their losses, whereas the misfortunes of the Lor- 
 rains seemed so irremediable to old Monsieur Collinet 
 that he promised the widow to pay off her husband's 
 debts, to the amount of forty thousand francs more. 
 When the Bourse of Nantes heard of this generous repa- 
 ration they wished to receive Collinet to their board be- 
 fore his certificates were granted by the Royal court at 
 Rennes ; but the merchant refused the honor, prefer- 
 ring to submit to the ordinary commercial rule. 
 
 Madame Lorrain had received the money only the 
 day before the post brought her Brigaut's letter, in- 
 closing that of Pierrette. Her first thought had been, 
 
186 Pierrette. 
 
 as she signed the receipt: " Now I can live with my 
 Pierrette and marry her to that good Brigaut, who will 
 make a fortune with my money." 
 
 Therefore the moment she had read the fatal letters 
 she made instant preparations to start for Provins. 
 She left Nantes that night by the mail ; for some one 
 had explained to her its celerity. In Paris she took the 
 diligence for Troyes, which passes through Provins, and 
 by half-past eleven at night she reached Frappier's, 
 where Brigaut, shocked at her despairing looks, told her 
 of Pierrette's state and promised to bring the poor girl 
 to her instantly. His words so terrified the grandmother 
 that she could not control her impatience and followed 
 him to the square. When Pierrette screamed, the 
 horror of that cry went to her heart as sharply as it did 
 to Brigaut's. Together the}' would have roused the 
 neighborhood if Rogron, in his terror, had not opened 
 the door. The scream of the joung girl at h&y gave 
 her grandmother the sudden strength of anger with 
 which she carried her dear Pierrette in her arms to 
 Frappier's house, where Madame Frappier hastily ar- 
 ranged Brigaut's own room for the old woman and her 
 treasure. In that poor room, on a bed half-made, the 
 sufferer was deposited ; and there she fainted away, 
 holding her hand still clenched, wounded, bleeding, 
 with the nails deep bedded in the flesh. Brigaut, 
 Frappier, his wife, and the old woman stood looking at 
 
Pierrette. 187 
 
 Pierrette in silence, all four of them in a state of inde- 
 scribable amazement. 
 
 " Why is her hand bloody?" said the grandmother 
 at last. 
 
 Pierrette, overcome by the sleep which follows all 
 abnormal displays of strength, and dimly conscious 
 that she was safe from violence, gradually unbent her 
 fingers. Brigaut's letter fell from them like an answer. 
 
 " They tried to take my letter from her," said Bri- 
 gaut, falling on his knees and picking up the lines in 
 which he had told his little friend to come instantly 
 and softly away from the house. He kissed with pious 
 love the martyr's hand. 
 
 It was a sight that made those present tremble when 
 they saw the old gray woman, a sublime spectre, standing 
 beside her grandchild's pillow. Terror and vengeance 
 wrote their fierce expressions in the wrinkles that 
 lined her skin of yellow ivory ; her forehead, half 
 i hidden by the straggling meshes of her gra} r hair, 
 expressed a solemn anger. She read, with a power of 
 intuition given to the aged when near their grave, 
 Pierrette's whole life, on which her mind had dwelt 
 throughout her journey. She divined the illness of her 
 darling, and knew that she was threatened with death. 
 Two big tears painfully rose in her wan gray e3^es, 
 from which her troubles had worn both lashes and 
 eyebrows, two pearls of anguish, forming within them 
 
188 Pierrette. 
 
 and giving them a dreadful brightness ; then eaeh tear 
 swelled and rolled down the withered cheek, but did 
 not wet it. 
 
 " They have killed her!" she said at last, clasping 
 her hands. 
 
 She fell on her knees which struck sharp blows on 
 the brick-laid floor, making a vow no doubt to Saint 
 Anne d'Auray, the most powerful of the madonnas of 
 Brittany. 
 
 " A doctor from Paris," she said to Brigaut. "Go 
 and fetch one, Brigaut, go ! " 
 
 She took him by the shoulder and gave him a des- 
 potic push to send him from the room. 
 
 " I was coming, my lad, when you wrote me ; I am 
 rich, — here, take this," she cried, recalling him, and 
 unfastening as she spoke the strings that tied her short- 
 gown. Then she drew a paper from her bosom in 
 which were fortj'-two bank-bills, saying, " Take what 
 is necessary, and bring back the greatest doctor in 
 Paris." 
 
 "Keep those," said Frappier; " he can't change 
 thousand franc notes now. I have money, and the 
 diligence will be passing presently ; he can certainly 
 find a place on it. But before he goes we had better 
 consult Doctor Martener ; he will tell us the best physi- 
 cian in Paris. The diligence won't pass for over an 
 hour, — we have time enough." 
 
Pierrette. 189 
 
 Brigaut woke up Monsieur Marteuer, and brought 
 lim at once. The doctor was not a little surprised to 
 find Mademoiselle Lorrain at Frappier's. Brigaut told 
 him of the scene that had just taken place at the Ro- 
 grons' ; but even so the doctor did not at first suspect 
 the horror of it, nor the extent of the injury done. 
 Martener gave the address of the celebrated Horace 
 Bianchon, and Brigaut started for Paris by the diligence. 
 Monsieur Martener then sat down and examined first 
 the bruised and bloody hand which lay outside the 
 bed. 
 
 " She could not have given these wounds herself," 
 he said. 
 
 "No; the horrible woman to whom I had the mis- 
 fortune to trust her was murdering her," said the 
 grandmother. " My poor Pierrette was screaming 
 i Help ! help ! I 'm dying/ — enough to touch the heart 
 of an executioner." 
 
 4 'But why was it?" said the doctor, feeling Pier- 
 rette's pulse. " She is very ill," he added, examining 
 her with a light. " She must have suffered terribly ; 
 I don't understand why she has not been properly 
 cared for." 
 
 u I shall complain to the authorities," said the grand- 
 mother. " Those Rogrons asked me for my child 
 in a letter, saying they had twelve thousand francs a 
 year and would take care of her ; had they the right to 
 
PiemtU. 
 
 er to do wotk tar 
 
 " They owl mot choose to ace the nost risible of al 
 anladiestowloeh yoaag girfc are hahle, She 
 
 Pierrette was tffabwd by the bgbt wind 
 Frappier was bofcfiag oar ber face, aod by toe horrible 
 io ber head coated by the reaetioo of ber 
 
 r,Ia»TtrraV* 
 her pretty Toiee. 
 
 if the poo, ory little fiieod?"' asked foe 
 
 .Here* oie oiud« tooehtasr her ocad aoore the pffr 
 
 *• There'* 00 abseeos," said the doctor, after 
 the heed lor a loag tine aod qoprtioctog Pierrette 00 
 ber iarnb%i « Yoo nost tell os all, ny child, so 
 tint one any koow bow to care yon. Why is yoar 
 fike nw? Too coald aot bare grrea yoandf 
 
 V*TrrtUtT*h^tbe*tra^tewtahauM^beT 
 eooanSrlrie. 
 
 " Make her talk," said the doctor to the graodnotber, 
 "aod lad oat the whole troth. I will wait the arrival 
 of the doctor fton Paris; aod we will scad for the sor- 
 of the hotf i ft a l here, aod bare a 
 
Pierrette. 191 
 
 tation. The case seems to me a very serious one. 
 Meantime I will send you a quieting draught so that 
 mademoiselle may sleep ; she needs sleep." 
 
 Left alone with her granddaughter the old Breton 
 woman exerted her influence over the child and made 
 her tell all; she let her know that she had money 
 enough now for all three, and promised that Brigaut 
 should live with them. The poor girl admitted Iht 
 martyrdom, not imagining the events to which her ad- 
 missions would give rise. The monstrosity of two 
 beings without affection and without conception of 
 family life opened to the old woman a world of woe 
 as far from her knowledge as the morals of sava^vs 
 may have seemed to the first discoverers who set foot 
 in America. 
 
 The arrival of her grandmother, the certainty of 
 living with her in comfort soothed Pierrette's mind as 
 the sleeping draught soothed her body. The old woman 
 watched her darling, kissing her forehead, hair, and 
 hands, as the holy women of old kissed the hands of 
 Jesus when they laid him in the tomb. 
 
192 Pierrette. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE FAMILY COUNCIL. 
 
 At nine o'clock that morning Monsieur Martener 
 went to see Monsieur Tiphaine, and related to him the 
 scene between Pierrette and S}ivie, and the tortures of 
 all kinds, moral and physical, to which the Rogrons 
 had subjected their cousin, and the two alarming forms 
 of illness which their cruelty had developed. Monsieur 
 Tiphaine sent for Auffray the notary, one of Pierrette's 
 own relations on the maternal side. 
 
 At this particular time the war between the Vinet 
 party and the Tiphaine party was at its height. The 
 scandals which the Rogrons and their adherents were 
 disseminating through the town about the liaison of 
 Madame Tiphaine' s mother with the banker du Tillet, 
 and the bankruptcy of her father (a forger, they said) , 
 were all the more exasperating to the Tiphaines because 
 these things were malicious truths, not libels. Such 
 wounds cut deep ; they go to the quick of feelings and 
 of interests. These speeches, repeated to the parti- 
 sans of the Tiphaines by the same mouths which told 
 the Rogrons of the sneers of " those women " of the 
 
Pierrette. 193 
 
 Tiphaine clique, fed the hatreds of both sides, now in- 
 creased by the political element. The animosities caused 
 at this time in France by the spirit of part}', the vio- 
 lences of which were excessive, were everywhere mixed 
 up, as in Provins, with selfish schemes and wounded or 
 vindictive individual interests. Each party eagerly 
 seized on whatever might injure the rival part}'. Per- 
 sonal hatreds and self-love mingled as much as political 
 animosity in even the smallest matters, and were 
 carried to hitherto unheard-of lengths. A whole town 
 would be roused to excitement over some private strug- 
 gle, until it took the character of a political debate. 
 
 Monsieur Tiphaine at once perceived in the case of 
 Pierrette against the Rogrons a means of humbling, 
 mortifying, and dishonoring the masters of that salon 
 where plans against the monarchy were made and an 
 opposition journal born. The public prosecutor was 
 called in ; and together with Monsieur Auffray the 
 notar}', Pierrette's relation, and Monsieur Martener, a 
 cautious consultation was held in the utmost secrecy 
 as to the proper course to follow. Monsieur Martener 
 agreed to advise Pierrette's grandmother to apply to 
 the courts to have Auffray appointed guardian to his 
 young relation. The guardian could then convene a 
 " Family Council," and, backed by the testimony of 
 three doctors, demand the girl's release from the au- 
 thority of the Rogrons. The affair thus managed 
 
 13 
 
194 Pierrette. 
 
 would have to go before the courts, and the public 
 prosecutor, Monsieur Lesourd, would see that it was 
 taken to a criminal court by demanding an inquiry. 
 
 Towards midday all Provins was roused by the 
 strange news of what had happened during the night at 
 the Rogrons'. Pierrette's cries had been faintly heard, 
 though they were soon over. No one had risen to 
 inquire what they meant, but every one said the next 
 da}*, " Did you hear those screams about one in the 
 morning?" Gossip and comments soon magnified 
 the horrible drama, and a crowd collected in front of 
 Frappier's shop, asking the worthy cabinet-maker for 
 information, and hearing from him how Pierrette was 
 brought to his house with her fingers broken and the 
 hand bloody. 
 
 Towards one in the afternoon the post-chaise of 
 Doctor Bianchon, who was accompanied by Brigaut, 
 stopped before the house, and Madame Frappier went 
 at once to summon Monsieur Martener and the sur- 
 geon in charge of the hospital. Thus the gossip of the 
 town received confirmation. The Rogrons were de- 
 clared to have ill-used their -cousin deliberately, and 
 to have come near killing her. Vinet heard the news 
 while attending to his business in the law courts ; he 
 left everything and hurried to the Rogrons. Rogron 
 and his sister had just finished breakfast. Sylvie was 
 reluctant to tell her brother of her discomfiture of the 
 
... 
 
 Pierrette. 195 
 
 night before ; but he pressed her with questions, to 
 which she would make no other answer than, " That's 
 not your business." She went and came from the 
 kitchen to the dining-room on pretence of preparing 
 the breakfast, but chiefly to avoid discussion. She 
 was alone when Vinet entered. 
 
 " You know what 's happened?" said the lawyer. 
 
 "No," said Sylvie. 
 
 " You will be arrested on a criminal charge," replied 
 Vinet. "from the way things are now going about 
 Pierrette." 
 
 " A criminal charge ! " cried Rogron, who had come 
 into the room. "Why? What for?" 
 
 "First of all," said the lawyer, looking at Sylvie, 
 " explain to me without concealment and as if you 
 stood before God, what happened in this house last 
 night — they talk of amputating Pierrette's hand." 
 
 Sylvie turned livid and shuddered. 
 
 " Then there is some truth in it?" said Vinet. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rogron related the scene, trying to 
 excuse -herself ; but, prodded with questions, she ac- 
 knowledged the facts of the horrible struggle. 
 
 " If you have only injured her fingers you will be 
 taken before the police court for a misdemeanor ; but 
 if they cut off her hand you may be tried at the As- 
 sizes for a worse offence. The Tiphaines will do their 
 best to get you there." 
 
196 Pierrette. 
 
 Sylvie, more dead than alive, confessed her jealousy, 
 and, what was harder to do, confessed also that her 
 suspicions were unfounded. 
 
 "Heavens, what a case this will make!" cried the 
 lawyer. " You and j T our brother may be ruined by 
 it; you will be abandoned by most people whether 
 you win or lose. If you lose, you will have to leave 
 Provins." 
 
 "Oh, my dear Monsieur Vinet, you who are such a 
 great lawyer," said Rogron, terrified, "advise us! 
 save us ! " 
 
 The crafty Vinet worked the terror of the two im- 
 beciles to its utmost, declaring that Madame and 
 Mademoiselle de Chargebceuf might be unwilling to 
 enter their house again. To be abandoned by women 
 of their rank would be a terrible condemnation. At 
 length, after an hour of adroit manoeuvring, it was 
 agreed that Vinet must have some powerful motive 
 in taking the case, that would impress the minds of 
 all Provins and explain his efforts on behalf of the 
 Rogrons. This motive they determined should be 
 Rogron's marriage to Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf ; it 
 should be announced that very day and the banns 
 published on Sunday. The contract could be drawn 
 immediately. Mademoiselle Rogron agreed, in con- 
 sideration of the marriage, to appear in the contract 
 as settling her capital on her brother, retaining only 
 
Pierrette. 197 
 
 the income of it. Vinet made Rogron and his sister 
 comprehend the necessity of antedating the document 
 by two or three days, so as to commit the mother and 
 daughter in the eyes of the public and give them a 
 reason for continuing their visits. 
 
 fc « Sign that contract and I '11 take upon myself to 
 get you safely out of this affair," said the lawyer. 
 " There will be a terrible fight; but I will put my 
 whole soul into it — you '11 have to make me a votive 
 offering." 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes," said Rogron. 
 
 By half-past eleven the lawyer had plenary powers 
 to draw the contract and conduct the defence of the 
 Rogrons. At twelve o'clock application was made to 
 Monsieur Tiphaine, as a judge sitting in chambers, 
 against Brigaut and the widow Lorrain for having 
 abducted Pierrette Lorrain, a minor, from the house 
 of her legal guardian. In this way the bold lawyer 
 became the aggressor and made Rogron the injured 
 party. He spoke of the matter from this point of view 
 in the court-house. 
 
 The judge postponed the hearing till four o'clock. 
 Needless to describe the excitement in the town. Mon- 
 sieur Tiphaine knew that by three o'clock the consulta- 
 tion of doctors would be over and their report drawn 
 up ; he wished Auffray, as surrogate-guardian, to be at 
 the hearing armed with that report. 
 
198 Pierrette. 
 
 The announcement of Rogron's marriage and the 
 sacrifices made by Sylvie in the contract alienated two 
 important supporters from the brother and sister, 
 namely, — Mademoiselle Habert and the colonel, whose 
 hopes were thus annihilated. They remained, how- 
 ever, ostensibly on the Rogron side for the purpose of 
 injuring it. Consequently, as soon as Monsieur Mar- 
 tener mentioned the alarming condition of Pierrette's 
 head, Celeste and the colonel told of the blow she had 
 given herself during the evening when Sylvie had 
 forced her to leave the salon ; and they related the 
 old maid's barbarous and unfeeling comments, with 
 other statements proving her cruelty to her suffering 
 cousin. Vinet had foreseen this storm ; but he had 
 won the entire fortune of the Rogrons for Mademoi- 
 selle de Chargebceuf, and he promised himself that in a 
 few weeks she should be mistress of the Rogron house, 
 and reign with him over Provins, and even bring 
 about a fusion with the Breauteys and the aristocrats 
 in the interests of his ambition. 
 
 From midday to four o'clock all the ladies of the 
 Tiphaine clique sent to inquire after Mademoiselle 
 Lorrain. She, poor girl, was wholly ignorant of the 
 commotion she was causing in the little town. In the 
 midst of her sufferings she was ineffably happ}' in 
 recovering her grandmother and Brigaut, the two ob- 
 jects of her affection. Brigaut's eyes were constantly 
 
Pierrette. 199 
 
 full of tears. The old grandmother sat by the bed and 
 caressed her darling. To the three doctors she told 
 every detail she had obtained from Pierrette as to her 
 life in the Rogron house. Horace Bianchon expressed 
 his indignation in vehement language. Shocked at 
 such barbarity he insisted on all the plrysicians in the 
 town being called in to see the case ; the consequence 
 was that Dr. N6raud, the friend of the Rogrons, was 
 present. The report was unanimously signed. It is 
 useless to give the text of it here. If Moliere's medi- 
 cal terms were barbarous, those of modern science 
 have the advantage of being so clear that the explana- 
 tion of Pierrette's malady, though natural and unfor- 
 tunately common, horrified all ears. 
 
 At four o'clock, after the usual rising of the court, 
 president Tiphaine again took his seat, when Madame 
 Lorrain, accompanied by Monsieur Auffray and Bri- 
 gaut and a crowd of interested persons, entered the 
 court-room. Vinet was alone. This contrast struck 
 the minds of those present. The lawyer, who still 
 wore his robe, turned his cold face to the judge, settled 
 his spectacles on his pallid green ej^es, and then in a 
 shrill, persistent voice he stated that two strangers had 
 forced themselves at night into the Rogron domicile 
 and had abducted therefrom the minor Lorrain. The 
 legal rights were with the guardian, who now demanded 
 the restoration of his ward. 
 
200 Pierrette. 
 
 Monsieur Auffray rose, as surrogate-guardian, and 
 requested to be heard. 
 
 "If the judge," he said, "will admit the report, 
 which I hold in my hand, signed by one of the most 
 famous physicians in Paris, and by all the physicians" 
 in Provins, he will understand not only that the de- 
 mand of the Sieur Rogron is senseless, but also that 
 the grandmother of the minor had grave cause to 
 instantly remove her from her persecutors. Here are 
 the facts. The report of these physicians attribute the 
 almost dying condition of the said minor to the ill- 
 treatment she has received from the Sieur Rogron and 
 his sister. We shall, as the law directs, convoke a 
 Family Council with the least" possible delay, and dis- 
 cuss the question as to whether or not the guardian 
 should be deposed. And we now ask that the minor 
 be not returned to the domicile of the said guardian 
 but that she be confided to some member of her family 
 who shall be designated by the judge." 
 
 Vinet replied, declaring that the physicians' report 
 ought to have been submitted to him in order that he 
 might have disproved it. 
 
 " Not submitted to your side," said the judge, 
 severely, " but possibly to the procureur du roi. The 
 case is heard." 
 
 The judge then wrote at the bottom of the petition 
 the following order : — 
 

 Pierrette. 201 
 
 *' Whereas it appears, from a deliberate and unani- 
 mous report of all the physicians of this town, together 
 with Doctor Bianchon of the medical faculty of Paris, 
 that the minor Lorrain, claimed by Jerome-Denis 
 Rogron, her guardian, is extremely ill in consequence 
 of ill-treatment and personal assault in the house of 
 the said guardian and his sister: 
 
 " We, president of the court of Provins, passing upon 
 the said petition, order that until the Family Council is 
 held the minor Lorrain is not to be returned to the 
 household of her said guardian, but shall be kept in 
 that of her surrogate-guardian. 
 
 M And further, considering the state in which the said 
 minor now is, and the traces of violence which, accord- 
 ing to the report of the physicians, are now upon her 
 person, we commission the attending physician and the 
 surgeon in charge of the hospital of Provins to visit 
 her, and in case the injuries from the said assault be- 
 come alarming, the matter will be held to await the 
 action of the criminal courts ; and this without preju- 
 dice to the civil suit undertaken by Auffray the surro- 
 gate-guardian." 
 
 This severe judgment was read out by President 
 Tiphaine in a loud and distinct voice. 
 
 " Why not send them to the galleys at once? " said 
 Vinet. " And all this fuss about a girl who was carry- 
 ing on an intrigue with an apprentice to a cabinet- 
 
202 Pierrette. 
 
 maker ! If the case goes on in this way," he cried, 
 insolently, M we shall demand other judges on the 
 ground of legitimate suspicion." 
 
 Vinet left the court-room, and went among the chief 
 men of his party to explain Rogron's position, declar- 
 ing that he had never so much as given a flip to his 
 cousin, and that the judge had viewed him much less 
 as Pierrette's guardian than as a leading elector in 
 Provins. 
 
 To hear Vinet, people might have supposed that the 
 Tiphaines were making a great fuss about nothing ; 
 the mountain was bringing forth a mouse. Sylvie, an 
 eminently virtuous and pious woman, had discovered 
 an intrigue between her brother's ward and a workman, 
 a Breton named Brigaut. The scoundrel knew very 
 well that the girl would have her grandmother's mone}-, 
 and he wished to seduce her (Vinet to talk of that!). 
 Mademoiselle Rogron, who had discovered letters 
 proving the depravity of the girl, was not as much to 
 blame as the Tiphaines were trying to make out. If 
 she did use some violence to get possession of these 
 letters (which was no wonder, when we consider what 
 Breton obstinacy is), how could Rogron be considered 
 responsible for that? 
 
 The lawyer went on to make the matter a partisan 
 affair, and to give it a political color. 
 
 "They who listen to only one bell hear only one 
 
Pierrette. 203 
 
 sound," said the wise men. " Have you beard what 
 Vinet says? Vinet explains things clearly." 
 
 Frappier's house being thought injurious to Pierrette, 
 owing to the noise in the street which increased the suf- 
 ferings in her head, she was taken to that of her surro- 
 gate guardian, the change being as necessary medically 
 as it was judicially. The removal was made with the 
 utmost caution, and was calculated to produce a great 
 public effect. Pierrette was laid on a mattress and 
 carried on a stretcher b}' two men ; a Gray Sister 
 walked beside her with a bottle of sal volatile in her 
 hand, while the grandmother, Brigaut, Madame Auffray, 
 and her maid followed. People were at their windows 
 and doors to see the procession pass. Certainly the 
 state in which they saw Pierrette, pale as death, gave 
 immense advantage to the party against the Rogrons. 
 The Auffra} 7 s were determined to prove to the whole 
 town that the judge was right in the decision he had 
 given. Pierrette and her grandmother were installed 
 on the second floor of Monsieur Auffray 's house. The 
 notary and his wife gave her every care with the 
 greatest hospitality, which was not without a little 
 ostentation in it. Pierrette had her grandmother to 
 nurse her; and Monsieur Martener and the head- 
 surgeon of the hospital attended her. 
 
 On the evening of this da} T exaggerations began on 
 both sides. The Rogron salon was crowded. Vinet 
 
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206 Pierrette, 
 
 tween Pierrette and Brigaut, which justified all Made- 
 moiselle Rogron's severity. He showed how natural 
 it was that the guardian should have left the manage- 
 ment of his ward to a woman ; he dwelt on the fact 
 that Rogron had not interfered with Pierrette's edu- 
 cation as planned by his sister Sylvie. But in spite 
 of Vinet's efforts the Council were unanimous in re- 
 moving Rogron from the guardianship. Monsieur 
 Auffray was appointed in his place, and Monsieur 
 Ciprey was made surrogate. The Council summoned 
 before it and examined Adele, the servant-woman, 
 who testified against her late masters ; also Mademoi- 
 selle Habert, who related the cruel remarks made by 
 Mademoiselle Rogron on the evening when Pierrette 
 had given herself a frightful blow, heard by all the 
 company, and the speech of Madame de Chargebceuf 
 about the girl's health. Brigaut produced the letter 
 he had received from Pierrette, which proved their 
 innocence and stated her ill-treatment. Proof was 
 given that the condition of the minor was the result 
 of neglect on the part of the guardian, who was re- 
 sponsible for all that concerned his ward. Pierrette's 
 illness had been apparent to every one, even to per- 
 sons in the town who were strangers to the family, 
 yet the guardian had done nothing for her. The charge 
 of ill-treatment was therefore sustained against Ro- 
 gron ; and the case would now go before the public. 
 
Pierrette. 207 
 
 Rogron, advised by Vinet, opposed the acceptance 
 of the report of the Council by the court. The au- 
 thorities then intervened in consequence of Pierrette's 
 state, which was daily growing worse. The trial of 
 the case, though placed at once upon the docket, was 
 postponed until the month of March, 1828, to wait 
 events. 
 
208 Pierrette. 
 
 VERDICTS LEGAL AND OTHER. 
 
 Meantime Rogron's marriage with Mademoiselle de 
 Chargeboeuf took place. Sylvie moved to the second 
 floor of the house, which she shared with Madame de 
 Chargeboeuf, for the first floor was entirely taken up 
 by the new wife. The beautiful Madame Rogron suc- 
 ceeded to the social place of the beautiful Madame 
 Tiphaine. The influence of the marriage was immense. 
 No one now came to visit Sylvie, but Madame Ro- 
 gron's salon was always full. 
 
 Sustained by the influence of his mother-in-law and 
 the bankers du Tillet and Nucingen, Monsieur Ti- 
 phaine was fortunate enough to do some service to 
 the administration ; he became one of its chief ora- 
 tors, was made judge in the civil courts, and ob- 
 tained the appointment of his nephew Lesourd to his 
 own vacant place as president of the court of Provins. 
 This appointment greatly annoyed Desfondrilles. The 
 Keeper of the Seals sent down one of his own proteges 
 to fill Lesourd's place. The promotion of Monsieur 
 Tiphaine and his translation to Paris were therefore' of 
 
Pierrette. 209 
 
 no benefit at all to the Vinet party ; but Vinet never- 
 theless made a clever use of the result. He had al- 
 ways told the Provins people that they were being 
 used as a stepping-stone to raise the crafty Madame 
 Tiphaine into grandeur ; Tiphaine himself had tricked 
 them ; Madame Tiphaine despised both Provins and 
 its people in her heart, and would never return there 
 again. Just at this crisis Monsieur Tiphaine's father 
 died ; his son inherited a fine estate and sold his house 
 in Provins to Monsieur Julliard. The sale proved to 
 the minds of all how little the Tiphaines thought of 
 Provins. Vinet was right; Vinet had been a true 
 prophet. These things had great influence on the 
 question of Pierrette's guardianship. 
 
 Thus the dreadful martyrdom brutally inflicted on 
 the poor child by two imbecile tyrants (which led, 
 through its consequences, to the terrible operation of 
 trepanning, performed by Monsieur Martener under the 
 advice of Doctor Bianchon), — all this horrible drama 
 reduced to judicial form was left to float in the vile 
 mess called in legal parlance the calendar. The case 
 was made to drag through the delays and the inter- 
 minable labyrinths of the law, by the shufflings of 
 an unprincipled lawyer; and during all this time the 
 calumniated girl languished in the agony of the worst 
 pain known to science. 
 
 Monsieur Martener, together with the Auffray family, 
 
 14 
 
210 Pierrette. 
 
 were soon charmed by the beauty of Pierrette's nature 
 and the character of her old grandmother, whose 
 feelings, ideas, and ways bore the stamp of Roman 
 antiquity, — this matron of the Marais was like a 
 woman in Plutarch. 
 
 Doctor Martener struggled bravely with death, which 
 already grasped its prey. From the first, Bianchon 
 and the hospital surgeon had considered Pierrette 
 doomed ; and there now took place between the doctor 
 and the disease, the former relying on Pierrette's 
 youth, one of those struggles which physicians alone 
 comprehend, — the reward of which, in case of success, 
 is never found in the venal pay nor in the patients 
 themselves, but in the gentle satisfactions of conscience, 
 in the invisible ideal palm gathered by true artists 
 from the contentment which fills their soul after ac- 
 complishing a noble work. The physician strains to- 
 wards good as the artist towards beauty, each impelled 
 by that grand sentiment which we call virtue. This 
 daily contest wiped out of Doctor Martener's mind the 
 petty irritations of that other contest of the Tiphaines 
 and the Vinets, — as always happens to men when they 
 find themselves face to face with a great and real misery 
 to conquer. 
 
 Monsieur Martener had begun his career in Paris ; 
 but the cruel activity of the city and its insensibilit}' to 
 its masses of suffering had shocked his gentle soul, 
 
Pierrette. 211 
 
 fitted only for the quiet life of the provinces. More- 
 over, he was under the yoke of his beautiful native 
 land. He returned to Provins, where he married and 
 settled, and cared almost lovingly for the people, who 
 were to him like a large family. During the whole of 
 Pierrette's illness he was careful not to speak of her. 
 His reluctance to answer the questions of those who 
 asked about her was so evident that persons soon 
 ceased to put them. Pierrette was to him, what indeed 
 she truly was, a poem, mysterious, profound, vast in 
 suffering, such as doctors find at times in their terrible 
 experience. He felt an admiration for this delicate 
 young creature which he would not share with any one. 
 This feeling of the physician for his patient was, 
 however, unconsciously communicated (like all true 
 feelings) to Monsieur and Madame AurTray, whose 
 house became, so long as Pierrette was in it, quiet 
 and silent. The children, who had formerly played so 
 joyously with her, agreed among themselves with the 
 loving grace of childhood to be neither noisy nor 
 troublesome. They made it a point of honor to be 
 good because Pierrette was ill. Monsieur Auff ray's 
 house was in the Upper town, beneath the ruins of the 
 Chateau, and it was built upon a sort of terrace formed 
 by the overthrow of the old ramparts. The occupants 
 could have a view of the valley from the little fruit- 
 garden inclosed by walls which overlooked the town. 
 
212 Pierrette. 
 
 The roofs of the other houses came to about the level 
 of the lower wall of this garden. Along the terrace 
 ran a path, by which Monsieur Auffray's study could 
 be entered through a glass door ; at the other end of 
 the path was an arbor of grape vines and a fig-tree, 
 beneath which stood a round table, a bench and some 
 chairs, painted green. Pierrette's bedroom was above 
 the studj r of her new guardian. Madame Lorrain 
 slept in a cot beside her grandchild. From her window 
 Pierrette could see the whole of the glorious vallej^ of 
 Provins, which she hardly knew, so seldom had she 
 left that dreadful house of the Rogrons. When the 
 weather was fine she loved to drag herself, resting 
 on her grandmother's arm, to the vine-clad arbor. Bri- 
 gaut, unable to work, came three times a day to see 
 his little friend ; he was gnawed by a grief which made 
 him indifferent to life. He lay in wait like a dog for 
 Monsieur Martener, and followed him when he left the 
 house. The old grandmother, drunk with grief, had 
 the courage to conceal her despair; she showed her 
 darling the smiling face she formerly wore at Pen-Hoel. 
 In her desire to produce that illusion in the girl's mind, 
 she made her a little Breton cap like the one Pierrette 
 had worn on her first arrival in Provins ; it made the 
 darling seem more like her childlike self; in it she was 
 delightful to look upon, her sweet face circled with a 
 halo of cambric and fluted lace. Her skin, white with 
 
Pierrette. 213 
 
 the whiteness of unglazed porcelain, her forehead, 
 where suffering had printed the semblance of deep 
 thought, the purity of the lines refined by illness, the 
 slowness of the glances, and the occasional fixity of the 
 eyes, made Pierrette an almost perfect embodiment of 
 melancholy. She was served by all with a sort of 
 fanaticism ; she was felt to be so gentle, so tender, so 
 loving. Madame Martener sent her piano to her sister 
 Madame Auffray, thinking to amuse Pierrette who was 
 passionately fond of music. It was a poem to watch 
 her listening to a theme of Weber, or Beethoven, or 
 Herold, — her eyes raised, her lips silent, regretting no 
 doubt the life she felt escaping her. The cure Peroux 
 and Monsieur Habert, her two religious comforters, 
 admired her saintly resignation. Surely the seraphic 
 perfection of young girls and young men marked with 
 the hectic of death, is a wonderful fact worthy of the 
 attention alike of philosophers and of heedless minds. 
 He who has ever seen one of these sublime departures 
 from this life can never remain, or become, an un- 
 believer. Such beings exhale, as it were, a celestial 
 fragrance ; their glances speak of God ; their voices 
 are eloquent in the simplest words ; often they ring 
 like some seraphic instrument revealing the secrets of 
 the future. When Monsieur Martener praised her for 
 having faithfully followed a harsh prescription the little 
 angel replied, and with what a glance ! — 
 
214 Pierrette. 
 
 " I want to live, dear Monsieur Martener ; but les3 
 for myself than for my grandmother, for my Brigaut, 
 for all of you who will grieve at my death." 
 
 The first time she went into the garden on a beauti- 
 ful sunny day in November attended by all the house- 
 hold, Madame Auffray asked her if she was tired. 
 
 " No, now that I have no sufferings but those God 
 sends I can bear all," she said. " The joy of being 
 loved gives me strength to suffer." 
 
 That was the only time (and then vaguely) that she 
 ever alluded to her horrible martyrdom at the Rogrons, 
 whom she never mentioned, and of whom no one re- 
 minded her, knowing well how painful the memory 
 must be. 
 
 " Dear Madame Auffray," she said one day at noon 
 on the terrace, as she gazed at the valle}', warmed by a 
 glorious sun and colored with the glowing tints of 
 autumn, u my death in your house gives me more hap- 
 piness than I have had since I left Brittany." 
 
 Madame Auffray whispered in her sister Martener's 
 ear: — 
 
 " How she would have loved ! " 
 
 In truth, her tones, her looks gave to her words a 
 priceless value. 
 
 Monsieur Martener corresponded with Doctor Bian- 
 chon, and did nothing of importance without his advice. 
 He hoped in the first place to regulate the functions of 
 
Pierrette. 215 
 
 iture and to draw away the abscess in the head through 
 
 le ear. The more Pierrette suffered, the more he 
 hoped. He gained some slight success at times, and 
 that was a great triumph. For several days Pierrette's 
 appetite returned and enabled her to take nourishing 
 food for which her illness had given her a repugnance ; 
 the color of her skin changed ; but the condition of her 
 head was terrible. Monsieur Martener entreated the 
 great physician his adviser to come down. Bianchon 
 came, stayed two days, and resolved to undertake an 
 operation. To spare the feelings of poor Martener he 
 went to Paris and brought back with him the celebrated 
 Desplein. Thus the operation was performed by the 
 greatest surgeon of ancient or modern times ; but that 
 terrible diviner said to Martener as he departed with 
 Bianchon, his best-beloved pupil: — 
 
 " Nothing but a miracle can save her. As Horace 
 told you, caries of the bone has begun. At her age the 
 bones are so tender." 
 
 The operation was performed at the beginning of 
 March, 1828. During all that month, distressed by 
 Pierrette's horrible sufferings, Monsieur Martener made 
 several journeys to Paris ; there he consulted Desplein 
 and Bianchon, and even went so far as to propose to 
 them an operation of the nature of lithotrity, which 
 consists in passing into the head a hollow instrument 
 by the help of which an heroic remedy can be applied 
 
216 Pierrette. 
 
 to the diseased bone, to arrest the progress of the 
 caries. Even the bold Desplein dared not attempt 
 that high-handed surgical measure, which despair alone 
 had suggested to Martener. When he returned from 
 this journey to Paris he seemed to his friends morose 
 and gloomy. He was forced to announce on that fatal 
 evening to the Auffrays and Madame Lorrain and to the 
 two priests and Brigaut that science could do no more 
 for Pierrette, whose recovery was now in God's hands 
 only. The consternation among them was terrible. The 
 grandmother made a vow, and requested the priests to say 
 a mass every morning at daybreak before Pierrette rose, 
 — a mass at which she and Brigaut might be present. 
 
 The trial came on. While the victim lay dying, 
 Vinet was calumniating her in court. The judge ap- 
 proved and accepted the report of the Family Council, 
 and Vinet instantly appealed. The newly appointed 
 procureur du roi made a requisition which necessitated 
 fresh evidence. Rogron and his sister were forced to 
 give bail to avoid going to prison. The order for fresh 
 evidence included that of Pierrette herself. When 
 Monsieur Desfondrilles came to the Auffrays' to receive 
 it, Pierrette was dying, her confessor was at her bedside 
 about to administer extreme unction. At that moment 
 she entreated all present to forgive her cousins as she 
 herself forgave them, sajing with her simple good sense 
 that the judgment of these things belonged to God alone. 
 
Pierrette. 217 
 
 " Grandmother," she said, " leave all you have to 
 Brigaut" (Brigaut burst into tears) ; u and," continued 
 Pierrette, " give a thousand francs to that kind Adele 
 who warmed my bed. If Adele had remained with 
 my cousins I should not now be dying." 
 
 It was at three o'clock on the Tuesday of Easter 
 week, on a beautiful, bright day, that the angel ceased 
 to suffer. Her heroic grandmother wished to watch 
 all that night with the priests, and to sew with her 
 stiff old fingers her darling's shroud. Towards even- 
 ing Brigaut left the Auffrays' house and went to 
 Frappier's. 
 
 "I need not ask you, my poor boy, for news," said 
 the cabinet-maker. 
 
 44 Pere Frappier, yes, it is ended for her — but not 
 for me." 
 
 He cast a look upon the different woods piled up 
 around the shop, — a look of painful meaning. 
 
 " I understand you, Brigaut," said his worthy 
 master. " Take all you want." And he showed him 
 the oaken planks of two-inch thickness. 
 
 "Don't help me, Monsieur Frappier," said the 
 Breton, " I wish to do it alone." 
 
 He passed the night in planing and fitting Pier- 
 rette's coffin, and more than once his plane took off 
 at a single pass a ribbon of wood which wa3 wet with 
 tears. The good man Frappier smoked his pipe and 
 
218 Pierrette. 
 
 watched him silently, saying only, when the four 
 pieces were joined together, — 
 
 "Make the cover to slide; her poor grandmother 
 will not hear the nails." 
 
 At daybreak Brigaut went out to fetch the lead to 
 line the coffin. By a strange chance, the sheets of lead 
 cost just the sum he had given Pierrette for her journey 
 from Nantes to Provins. The brave Breton, who was 
 able to resist the awful pain of himself making the 
 coffin of his dear one and lining with his memories 
 those burial planks, could not bear up against this 
 strange reminder. His strength gave way; he was 
 not able to lift the lead, and the plumber, seeing this, 
 came with him, and offered to accompany him to the 
 house and solder the last sheet when the body had 
 been laid in the coffin. 
 
 The Breton burned the plane and all the tools he 
 had used. Then he settled his accounts with Frappier 
 and bade him farewell. The heroism with which the 
 poor lad personally performed, like the grandmother, 
 the last offices for Pierrette made him a sharer in 
 the awful scene which crowned the tyranny of the 
 Rogrons. 
 
 Brigaut and the plumber reached the house of Mon- 
 sieur Auffray just in time to decide by their own main 
 force an infamous and shocking judicial question. 
 The room where the dead girl lay was full of people, 
 
Pierrette. 219 
 
 and presented to the eyes of the two men a singular 
 sight. The Rogron emissaries were standing beside 
 the body of their victim, to torture her even after death. 
 The corpse of the child, solemn in its beauty, lay on 
 the cot-bed of her grandmother. Pierrette's eyes were 
 closed, the brown hair smooth upon her brow, the body 
 swathed in a coarse cotton sheet. 
 
 Before the bed, on her knees, her hair in disorder, her 
 hands stretched out, her face on fire, the old Lorrain 
 was crying out, " No, no, it shall not be done ! " 
 
 At the foot of the bed stood Monsieur Auffray and 
 the two priests. The tapers were still burning. 
 
 Opposite to the grandmother was the surgeon of the 
 hospital, with an assistant, and near him stood Doctor 
 N£raud and Vinet. The surgeon wore his dissecting 
 apron ; the assistant had opened a case of instruments 
 and was handing him a knife. 
 
 This scene was interrupted by the noise of the coffin 
 which Brigaut and the plumber set down upon the 
 floor. Then Brigaut, advancing, was horrified at the 
 sight of Madame Lorrain, who was now weeping. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he asked, standing beside 
 her and grasping the chisel convulsively in his hand. 
 
 " This," said the old woman, " this, Brigaut: they 
 want to open the body of nry child and cut into her 
 head, and stab her heart after her death as they did 
 when she was living." 
 
220 Pierrette. 
 
 "Who?" said Brigaut, in a voice that might have 
 deafened the men of law. 
 
 " The Rogrons." 
 
 " In the sacred name of God ! — " 
 . "Stop, Brigaut," said Monsieur Auffray, seeing the 
 lad brandish his chisel. 
 
 "Monsieur Auffray," said Brigaut, as white as his 
 dead companion, "I hear 3-011 because you are Mon- 
 sieur Auffray, but at this moment I will not listen 
 to — " 
 
 " The law ! " said Auffray. 
 
 " Is there law? is there justice?" cried the Breton. 
 "Justice, this is it!" and he advanced to the lawyer 
 and the doctors, threatening them with his chisel. 
 
 "My friend," said the curate, "the law has been 
 invoked by the lawyer of Monsieur Rogron, who is 
 under the weight of a serious accusation ; and it is im- 
 possible for us to refuse him the means of justification. 
 The lawyer of Monsieur Rogron claims that if the poor 
 child died of an abscess in her head her former guardian 
 cannot be blamed, for it is proved that Pierrette con- 
 cealed the effects of the blow which she gave to 
 herself— " 
 
 " Enough ! " said Brigaut. 
 
 " My client — " began Vinet. 
 
 " Your client," cried the Breton, " shall go to hell 
 and I to the scaffold ; for if one of you dares to touch 
 
Pierrette. 221 
 
 her whom your client has killed, I will kill him if my 
 weapon does its duty." 
 
 " This is interference with the law," said Vinet. " I 
 shall instantly inform the court." 
 
 The five men left the room. 
 
 "Oh, my son!" cried the old woman, rising from 
 her knees and falling on Brigaut's neck, " let us bury 
 her quick, — they will come back." 
 
 "If we solder the lead," said the plumber, " they 
 may not dare to open it." 
 
 Monsieur Auffray hastened to his brother-in-law, 
 Monsieur Lesourd, to try and settle the matter. Vinet 
 was not unwilling. Pierrette being dead the suit about 
 the guardianship fell, of course, to the ground. All 
 the astute lawyer wanted was the effect produced by 
 his request. 
 
 At midday Monsieur Desfondrilles made his report 
 on the case, and the court rendered a decision that there 
 was no ground for further action. 
 
 Rogron dared not go to Pierrette's funeral, at which 
 the whole town was present. Vinet wished to force 
 him there, but the miserable man was afraid of exciting 
 universal horror. 
 
 Brigaut left Provins after watching the filling up of 
 the grave where Pierrette lay, and went on foot to 
 Paris. He wrote a petition to the Dauphiness asking, 
 in the name of his father, that he might enter the Royal 
 
222 - Pierrette. 
 
 guard, to which he was at once admitted. When the 
 expedition to Algiers was undertaken he wrote to her 
 again, to obtain employment in it. He was then a ser- 
 geant ; Marshal Bourmont gave him an appointment as 
 sub-lieutenant in a line regiment. The major's son 
 behaved like a man who wished to die. Death has, 
 however, respected Jacques Brigaut up to the present 
 time ; although he has distinguished himself in all the 
 recent expeditions he has never yet been wounded. 
 He is now major in a regiment of infantry. No offi- 
 cer is more taciturn or more trustworthy. Outside of 
 his duty he is almost mute ; he walks alone and lives 
 mechanically. Every one divines and respects a hidden 
 sorrow. He possesses foily-six thousand francs, which 
 old Madame Lorrain, who died in Paris in 1829, be- 
 queathed to him. 
 
 At the elections of 1830 Vinet was made a deputy. 
 The services he rendered the new government have 
 now earned him the position of procureur-general. 
 His influence is such that he will always remain a 
 deputy. Rogron is receiver-general in the same town 
 where Vinet fulfils his legal functions ; and by one of 
 those curious tricks of chance which do so often occur, 
 Monsieur Tiphaine is president of the Royal court in the 
 same town, — for the worthy man gave in his adhesion 
 to the dynasty of July without the slightest hesitation. 
 The ex-beautiful Madame Tiphaine lives on excellent 
 
Pierrette. 223 
 
 terms with the beautiful Madame Rogron. Vinet is 
 hand in glove with Madame Tiphaine. 
 
 As to the imbecile Rogron, he makes such remarks 
 as, "Louis-Philippe will never be really king till he 
 is able to make nobles." 
 
 The speech is evident^ not his own. His health is 
 failing, which allows Madame Rogron to hope she may 
 soon marry the General Marquis de Montriveau, peer 
 of France, who commands the department, and is 
 paying her attentions. Vinet is in his element, seek- 
 ing victims ; he never believes in the innocence of an 
 accused person. This thoroughbred prosecutor is held 
 to be one of the most amiable men on the circuit ; and 
 he is no less liked in Paris and in the Chamber ; at 
 court he is a charming courtier. 
 
 According to a certain promise made b}' Vinet, 
 General Baron Gouraud, that noble relic of our glo- 
 rious armies, married a Mademoiselle Matifat, twenty- 
 five years old, daughter of a druggist in the rue des 
 Lombards, whose dowry was a hundred thousand 
 francs. He commands (as Vinet prophesied) a de- 
 partment in the neighborhood of Paris. He was 
 named peer of France for his conduct in the riots 
 which occurred during the ministry of Casimir Perier. 
 Baron Gouraud was one of the generals who took the 
 church of Saint-Merry, delighted to rap those rascally 
 civilians who had vexed him fgj^vears over the 
 
 UNIVBR SITY 
 
224 Pierrette. 
 
 knuckles ; for which service he was rewarded with the 
 grand cordon of the Legion of honor. 
 
 None of the personages connected with Pierrette's 
 death ever felt the slightest remorse about it. Mon- 
 sieur Desfondrilles is still archaeological, but, in order 
 to compass his own election, the procureur general 
 Vinet took pains to have him appointed president of 
 the Provins court. Sylvie has a little circle, and 
 manages her brother's property; she lends her own 
 money at high interest, and does not spend more than 
 twelve hundred francs a year. 
 
 From time to time, when some former son or 
 daughter of Provins returns from Paris to settle down, 
 you may hear them ask, as they leave Mademoiselle 
 Rogron's house, " Wasn't there a painful story against 
 the Rogrons, — something about a ward ? " 
 
 "Mere prejudice," replies Monsieur Desfondrilles. 
 4 'Certain persons tried to make us believe falsehoods. 
 Out of kindness of heart the Rogrons took in a girl 
 named Pierrette, quite pretty but with no money. Just 
 as she was growing up she had an intrigue with a young 
 man, and stood at her window barefooted talking to 
 him. The lovers passed notes to each other by a 
 string. She took cold in this way and died, having 
 no constitution. The Rogrons behaved admirably. 
 They made no claim on certain property which was to 
 come to her, — they gave it all up to the grandmother. 
 
Pierrette. 225 
 
 The moral of it was, my good friend, that the devil 
 punishes those who try to benefit others." 
 
 "Ah! that is quite another story from the one old 
 Frappier told me." 
 
 " Frappier consults his wine-cellar more than he does 
 his memorjV remarked another of Mademoiselle Ro- 
 gron's visitors. 
 
 " But that old priest, Monsieur Habert says — " 
 
 " Oh, he ! don't you know why ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He wanted to marry his sister to Monsieur Ro- 
 gron, the receiver-general." 
 
 Two men think of Pierrette daily : Doctor Martener 
 and Major Brigaut ; they alone know the hideous truth. 
 
 To give that truth its true proportions we must 
 transport the scene to the Rome of the middle ages, 
 where a sublime young girl, Beatrice Cenci, was 
 brought to the scaffold by motives and intrigues that 
 were almost identical with those which laid our Pier- 
 rette in her grave. Beatrice Cenci had but one de- 
 fender, — an artist, a painter. In our day history, and 
 living men, on the faith of Guido Reni's portrait, con- 
 demn the Pope, and know that Beatrice was a most 
 tender victim of infamous passions and base feuds. 
 
 We must all agree that legality would be a fine thing 
 for social scoundrelism if there were no god. 
 
 15 
 
THE VICAR OF TOURS. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 To David, Sculptor: 
 
 The permanence of the work on which I inscribe 
 your name — twice made illustrious in this century — is 
 very problematical ; whereas you have graven mine in 
 bronze which survives nations — if only in their coins. 
 The day may come when numismatists, discovering 
 amid the ashes of Paris existences perpetuated by you, 
 will wonder at the number of heads crowned in your 
 atelier and endeavor to find in them new dynasties. 
 
 To you, this divine privilege ; to me, gratitude. 
 
 De Balzac. 
 
THE VICAE OF TOURS. 
 
 i. 
 
 Early in the autumn of 1826 the Abbe Birotteau, 
 the principal personage of this history, was overtaken 
 by a shower of rain as he returned home from a friend's 
 house, where he had been passing the evening. He 
 therefore crossed, as quickly as his corpulence would 
 allow, the deserted little square called " The Cloister," 
 which lies directly behind the chancel of the cathedral 
 of Saint-Gatien at Tours. 
 
 The Abbe" Birotteau, a short little man, apoplectic in 
 constitution and about sixty years old, had already 
 gone through several attacks of gout. Now, among 
 the petty miseries of human life the one for which the 
 worthy priest felt the deepest aversion was the sudden 
 sprinkling of his shoes, adorned with silver buckles, and 
 the wetting of their soles. Notwithstanding the woollen 
 socks in which at all seasons he enveloped his feet 
 with the extreme care that ecclesiastics take of them- 
 selves, he was apt at such times to get them a little 
 
230 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 damp, and the next day gout was sure to give him 
 certain infallible proofs of constancy. Nevertheless, 
 as the pavement of the Cloister was likely to be dry, 
 and as the abbe had won three francs ten sous in 
 his rubber with Madame de Listomere, he bore the 
 rain resignedly from the middle of the place de 
 l'Archevech6, where it began to come down in earnest. 
 Besides, he was fondling his chimera, — a desire already 
 twelve years old, the desire of a priest, a desire formed 
 anew every evening and now, apparently, very near 
 accomplishment ; in short, he had wrapped himself so 
 completely in the fur cape of a canon that he did not 
 feel the inclemency of the weather. During the even- 
 ing several of the company who habitually gathered at 
 Madame de Listomere's had almost guaranteed to him 
 his nomination to the office of canon (then vacant in 
 the metropolitan Chapter of Saint-Gatien), assuring him 
 that no one deserved such promotion more than he, 
 whose rights, long overlooked, were indisputable. 
 
 If he had lost the rubber, if he had heard that his 
 rival, the Abbe Poirel, was named canon, the worthy 
 man would have thought the rain extremely chilling ; 
 he might even have thought ill of life. But it so 
 chanced that he was in one of those rare moments 
 when happy inward sensations make a man oblivious of 
 discomfort. In hastening his steps he obeyed a mere 
 mechanical impulse, and truth (so essential in a history 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 231 
 
 of manners and morals) compels us to say that he was 
 thinking of neither rain nor gout. 
 
 In former days there was in the Cloister, on the 
 side towards the Grand'Rue, a cluster of houses form- 
 ing a Close and belonging to the cathedral, where 
 several of the dignitaries of the Chapter lived. After 
 the confiscation of ecclesiastical property the town had 
 turned the passage through this close into a narrow 
 street, called the rue de la Psalette, by which pedes- 
 trians passed from the Cloister to the Grand'Rue. 
 The name of this street, proves clearly enough that the 
 precentor and his pupils and those connected with the 
 choir formerly lived there. The other side, the left 
 side, of the street is occupied by a single house, the 
 walls of which are overshadowed by the buttresses of 
 Saint-Gatien, which have their base in the narrow little 
 garden of the house, leaving it doubtful whether the 
 cathedral was built before or after this venerable dwell- 
 ing. An archaeologist examining the arabesques, the 
 shape of the windows, the arch of the door, the whole ex- 
 terior of the house, now mellow with age, would see at 
 once that it had always been a part of the magnificent 
 edifice with which it is blended. 
 
 An antiquary (had there been one in Tours, — one of 
 the least literary towns in all France) would even 
 discover, where the narrow street enters the Cloister, 
 several vestiges of an old arcade, which formerly made 
 
232 TJie Vicar of Tours. 
 
 a portico to these ecclesiastical dwellings, and was, no 
 doubt, harmonious in style with the general character 
 of the architecture. 
 
 The house of which we speak, standing on the north 
 side of the cathedral, was always in the shadow thrown 
 by that vast edifice, on which time had cast its dingy 
 mantle, marked its furrows, and shed its chill humidit} 7 , 
 its lichen, mosses, and rank herbs. The darkened 
 dwelling was wrapped in silence, broken only by the 
 bells, by the chanting of the offices heard through the 
 windows of the church, by the call of the jackdaws 
 nesting in the belfries. The region is a desert of 
 stones, a solitude with a character of its own, an arid 
 spot, which could only be inhabited by beings who had 
 either attained to absolute nullity, or were gifted with 
 some abnormal strength of soul. The house in ques- 
 tion had always been occupied by abbes, and it be- 
 longed to an old maid named Mademoiselle Gamard. 
 Though the property bad been bought from the na- 
 tional domain under the Reign of Terror by the father 
 of Mademoiselle Gamard, no one objected under the 
 Restoration to the old maid's retaining it, because she 
 took priests to board and was very devout ; it may be 
 that religious persons gave her credit for the intention 
 of leaving the property to the Chapter. 
 
 The Abbe Birotteau was making his way to this 
 house, where he had lived for the last two years. His 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 233 
 
 apartment had been (as was now the canonry) an ob- 
 ject of envy and his hoc erat in votis for a dozen }*ears. 
 To be Mademoiselle's Gamard's boarder and to become 
 a canon were the two great desires of his life ; in fact 
 they do present accurately the ambition of a priest, 
 who, considering himself on the highroad to eternity, 
 can wish for nothing in this world but good lodging, 
 good food, clean garments, shoes with silver buckles, 
 a sufficiency of things for the needs of the animal, and 
 a canonry to satisfy self-love, that inexpressible senti- 
 ment which follows us, they say, into the presence of 
 God, — for there are grades among the saints. But 
 the covetous desire for the apartment which the Abbe 
 Birotteau was now inhabiting (a very harmless desire 
 in the ej^es of worldly people) had been to the abbe* 
 nothing less than a passion, a passion full of obstacles, 
 and, like more guilty passions, full of hopes, pleasures, 
 and remorse. 
 
 The interior arrangements of the house k did not allow 
 Mademoiselle Gamard to take more than two lodgers. 
 Now, for about twelve years before the day when 
 Birotteau went to live with her she had undertaken to 
 keep in health and contentment two priests ; namely, 
 Monsieur l'Abbe Troubert and Monsieur l'Abbe Chape- 
 loud. The Abbe Troubert still lived. The Abbe 
 Chapeloud was dead ; and Birotteau had stepped into 
 his place. 
 
234 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 The late Abbe" Chapeloud, in life a canon of Saint- 
 Gatien, had been an intimate friend of the Abbe 
 Birotteau. Every time that the latter paid a visit to 
 the canon he had constant^ admired the apartment, 
 the furniture and the library. Out of this admira- 
 tion grew the desire to possess these beautiful things. 
 It had been impossible for the Abbe Birotteau to stifle 
 this desire; though it often made him suffer terribly 
 when he reflected that the death of his best friend 
 could alone satisfy his secret covetousness, which in- 
 creased as time went on. The Abbe Chapeloud and 
 his friend Birotteau were not rich. Both were sons of 
 peasants ; and their slender savings had been spent in 
 the mere costs of living during the disastrous years of 
 the Revolution. When Napoleon restored the Catholic 
 worship the Abbe Chapeloud was appointed canon of 
 the cathedral and Birotteau was made vicar of it. 
 Chapeloud then went to board with Mademoiselle 
 Gamard. When Birotteau first came to visit his 
 friend, he thought the arrangement of the rooms ex- 
 cellent, but he noticed nothing more. The outset of 
 this concupiscence of chattels was very like that of a 
 true passion, which often begins, in a young man, with 
 cold admiration for a woman whom he ends in loving 
 forever. 
 
 The apartment, reached by a stone staircase, was on 
 the side of the house that faced south. The Abbe* 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 235 
 
 Troubert occupied the ground-floor, and Mademoiselle 
 Gamard the first floor of the main building, looking 
 on the street. When Chapeloud took possession of 
 his rooms they were bare of furniture, and the ceilings 
 were blackened with smoke. The stone mantelpieces, 
 which were very badly cut, had never been painted. 
 At first, the only furniture the poor canon could put in 
 was a bed, a table, a few chairs, and the books he pos- 
 sessed. The apartment was like a beautiful woman 
 in rags. But two or three years later, an old lady 
 having left the Abbe Chapeloud two thousand francs, 
 he spent that sum on the purchase of an oak book- 
 case, the relic of a chateau pulled down by the 
 Bande Noire, the carving of which deserved the ad- 
 miration of all artists. The abbe made the purchase 
 less because it was very cheap than because the di- 
 mensions of the bookcase exactly fitted the space it 
 was to fill in his gallery. His savings enabled him to 
 renovate the whole galley, which up to this time had 
 been neglected and shabby. The floor was carefuhy 
 waxed, the ceiling whitened, the wood-work painted to 
 resemble the grain and knots of oak. A long table in 
 ebony and two cabinets by Boulle completed the 
 decoration, and gave to this gallery a certain air that 
 was full of character. In the course of two years the 
 liberality of devout persons, and legacies, though small 
 ones, from pious penitents, filled the shelves of the 
 
236 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 bookcase, till then half empty. Moreover, Chapeloud's 
 uncle, an old Oratorian, left him his collection in folio 
 of the Fathers of the Church, and several other impor- 
 tant works that were precious to a priest. 
 
 Birotteau, more and more surprised by the successive 
 improvements of the gallery, once so bare, came by 
 degrees to a condition of involuntary envy. He wished 
 he could possess that apartment, so thoroughly in keep- 
 ing with the gravity of ecclesiastical life. The passion 
 increased from day to day. Working, sometimes for 
 days together, in this retreat, the vicar could appreciate 
 the silence and the peace that reigned there. During 
 the following year the Abbe" Chapeloud turned a small 
 room into an oratory, which his pious friends took 
 pleasure in beautifying. Still later, another lady gave 
 the canon a set of furniture for his bedroom, the cover- 
 ing of which she had embroidered under the eyes of the 
 worthy man without his ever suspecting its destination. 
 The bedroom then had the same effect upon the vicar 
 that the gallery had long had ; it dazzled him. Lastly, 
 about three years before the Abbe Chapeloud's death, 
 he completed the comfort of his apartment by decorat- 
 ing the salon. Though the furniture was plainly 
 covered in red Utrecht velvet, it fascinated Birotteau. 
 From the day when the canon's friend first laid eyes on 
 the red damask curtains, the mahogany furniture, the 
 Aubusson carpet which adorned the vast room, then 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 237 
 
 lately painted, his envy^ of Chapeloud's apartment 
 became a monomania hidden within his breast. To 
 live there, to sleep in that bed with the silk curtains 
 where the canon slept, to have all Chapeloud's comforts 
 about him, would be, Birotteau felt, complete happi- 
 ness ; he saw nothing beyond it. All the envy, all 
 the ambition which the things of this world give birth 
 to in the hearts of other men concentrated themselves 
 for Birotteau in the deep and secret longing he felt for 
 an apartment like that which the Abbe' Chapeloud had 
 created for himself. When his friend fell ill he went to 
 him out of true affection ; but all the same, when he 
 first heard of his illness, and when he sat by his bed to 
 keep him compan}% there arose in the depths of his 
 consciousness, in spite of himself, a crowd of thoughts 
 the simple formula of which was always, " If Chapeloud 
 dies I can have this apartment." And j*et — Birotteau 
 having an excellent heart, contracted ideas, and a lim- 
 ited mind — he did not go so far as to think of means 
 by which to make his friend bequeath to him the library 
 and the furniture. 
 
 The Abbe Chapeloud, an amiable, indulgent egoist, 
 fathomed his friend's desires — not a difficult thing fo 
 do — and forgave them ; which may seem less easy 
 to a priest ; but it must be remembered that the vicar, 
 whose friendship was faithful, did not fail to take a 
 daily walk with his friend along their usual path in 
 
238 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 the Mail de Tours, never once depriving him of an 
 instant of the time devoted for over twenty years to 
 that exercise. Birotteau, who regarded his secret 
 wishes as crimes, would have been capable, out of con- 
 trition, of the utmost devotion to his friend. The 
 latter paid his debt of gratitude for a friendship so in- 
 genuously sincere by saying, a few days before his 
 death, as the vicar sat by him reading the " Quotidi- 
 enne " aloud: " This time you will certainly get the 
 apartment. I feel it is all over with me now." 
 
 Accordingly, it was found that the Abl>e Chapeloud 
 had left his library and all his furniture to his friend 
 Birotteau. The possession of these things, so keenly 
 desired, and the prospect of being taken to board by 
 Mademoiselle Gamard, certainly did allay the grief 
 which Birotteau felt at the death of his friend the 
 canon. He might not have been willing to resuscitate 
 him ; but he mourned him. For several days he was like 
 Gargantua, who, when his wife died in giving birth to 
 Pantagruel, did not know whether to rejoice at the birth 
 of a son or grieve at having buried his good Babette, 
 and therefore cheated himself by rejoicing at the death 
 of his wife and deploring the advent of Pantagruel. 
 
 The Abbe Birotteau spent the first days of his 
 mourning in verifying the books in his library, in 
 making use of his furniture, in examining the whole of 
 his inheritance, saying in a tone which, unfortunately, 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 239 
 
 was not noted at the time, u Poor Chapeloud ! " His 
 joy and his grief so completely absorbed him that he 
 felt no pain when he found that the office of canon, 
 in which the late Chapeloud had hoped his friend 
 Birotteau might succeed him, was given to another. 
 Mademoiselle Gamard having cheerfully agreed to 
 take the vicar to board, the latter was thenceforth a 
 participator in all those felicities of material comfort of 
 which the deceased canon had been wont to boast. 
 
 Incalculable they were ! According to the Abbe 
 Chapeloud none of the priests who inhabited the city 
 of Tours, not even the archbishop, had ever been the 
 object of such minute and delicate attentions as those 
 bestowed by Mademoiselle Gamard on her two lodgers. 
 The first words the canon said to his friend when they 
 met for their walk on the Mail referred usually to the 
 succulent dinner he had just eaten ; and it was a very 
 rare thing if during the seven walks of each week 
 he did not say at least fourteen times, " That ex- 
 cellent spinster certainly has a vocation for serving 
 ecclesiastics." 
 
 "Just think," the canon would say to Birotteau, 
 " that for twelve consecutive years nothing has ever 
 been amiss, — linen in perfect order, bands, albs, sur- 
 plices ; I find everything in its place, always in suffi- 
 cient quantity, and smelling of orris-root. My furniture 
 is rubbed and kept so bright that I don't know when 
 
240 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 I have seen any dust — did you ever see a speck of it 
 in my rooms? Then the firewood is so well selected. 
 The least little things are excellent. In fact, Made- 
 moiselle Gamard keeps an incessant watch over my 
 wants. I can't remember having rung twice for any- 
 thing — no matter what — in ten } T ears. That 's what 
 I call living ! I never have to look for a single thing, 
 not even my slippers. Always a good fire, always a 
 good dinner. Once the bellows annoyed me, the 
 nozzle was choked up ; but I only mentioned it once, 
 and the next day Mademoiselle gave me a very pretty 
 pair, also those nice little tongs you see me mend the 
 fire with." 
 
 For all answer Birotteau would say, " Smelling of 
 orris-root ! " That smelling of orris-root always af- 
 fected him. The canon's remarks revealed ideal joys 
 to the poor vicar, whose bands and albs were the 
 plague of his life, for he was totally devoid of method 
 and often forgot to order his dinner. Therefore, if he 
 saw Mademoiselle Gamard at Saint-Gatien while say- 
 ing mass or taking round the plate, he never failed to 
 give her a kindly and benevolent look, — such a look as 
 Saint Teresa might have cast to heaven. 
 
 Though the comforts which all creatures desire, and 
 for which he had so often longed, thus fell to his share, 
 the Abbe* Birotteau, like the rest of the world, found it 
 difficult, even for a priest, to live without something 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 241 
 
 to hanker for. Consequently, for the last eighteen 
 months he had replaced his two satisfied passions by 
 an ardent longing for a canonry. The title of Canon 
 had become to him very much what a peerage is to 
 a plebeian minister. The prospect of an appointment, 
 hopes of which had just been held out to him at Ma- 
 dame de Listomere's, so completely turned his head 
 that he did not observe until he reached his own door 
 that he had left his umbrella behind him. Perhaps, 
 even then, if the rain were not falling in torrents he 
 might not have missed it, so absorbed was he in the 
 pleasure of going over and over in his mind what had 
 been said to him on the subject of his promotion b} r 
 the company at Madame de Listomere's, — an old lady 
 with whom he spent eveiy Wednesdaj" evening. 
 
 The vicar rang loudly, as if to let the servant know 
 she was not to keep him waiting. Then he stood close 
 to the door to avoid, if he could, getting showered ; 
 but the drip from the roof fell precisely on the toes of 
 his shoes, and the wind blew gusts of rain into his 
 face that were much like a shower-bath. Having cal- 
 culated the time necessary for the woman to leave the 
 kitchen and pull the string of the outer door, he rang 
 again, this time in a manner that resulted in a very 
 significant peal of the bell. 
 
 " They can't be out," he said to himself, not hearing 
 any movement on the premises. 
 10 
 
242 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 Again he rang, producing a sound that echoed 
 sharpty through the house and was taken up and re- 
 peated by all the echoes of the cathedral, so that no 
 one could avoid waking up at the remonstrating racket. 
 Accordingly, in a few moments, he heard, not without 
 some pleasure in his wrath, the wooden shoes of the 
 servant-woman clacking along the paved path which 
 led to the outer door. But even then the discomforts 
 of the gouty old gentleman were not so quickly over 
 as he hoped. Instead of pulling the string, Marianne 
 was obliged to turn the lock of the door with its heavy 
 key, and pull back all the bolts. 
 
 "Why did you let me ring three times in such 
 weather?" said the vicar. 
 
 "But, monsieur, don't you see the door was locked? 
 We have all been in bed ever so long; it struck a 
 quarter to eleven some time ago. Mademoiselle must 
 have thought you were in." 
 
 " You saw me go out, yourself. Besides, Mademoi- 
 selle knows very well I always go to Madame de Lis- 
 tomere's on Wednesday evening." 
 
 " I only did as Mademoiselle told me, monsieur." 
 
 These words struck the vicar a blow, which he felt 
 the more because his late revery had made him com- 
 pletely happy. He said nothing and followed Mari- 
 anne towards the kitchen to get his candlestick, which 
 he supposed had been left there as usual. But instead 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 243 
 
 of entering the kitchen Marianne went on to his own 
 apartments, and there the vicar beheld his candlestick on 
 a table close to the door of the red salon, in a sort of 
 antechamber formed by the landing of the staircase, 
 which the late canon had inclosed with a glass parti- 
 tion. Mute with amazement, he entered his bedroom 
 hastily, found no fire, and called to Marianne, who had 
 not had time to get downstairs. 
 
 11 You have not lighted the fire ! " he said. 
 
 "Beg pardon, Monsieur l'abbe, I did," she said; 
 " it must have gone out." * 
 
 Birotteau looked again at the hearth, and felt con- 
 vinced that the fire had been out since morning. 
 
 " I must dry my feet," he said. " Make the fire." 
 
 Marianne obeyed with the haste of a person who 
 wants to get back to her night's rest. While looking 
 about him for his slippers, which were not in the middle 
 of his bedside carpet as usual, the abbe took mental 
 notes of the state of Marianne's dress, which convinced 
 him that she had not got out of bed to open the door 
 as she said she had. He then recollected that for the 
 last two weeks he had been deprived of various little 
 attentions which for eighteen months had made life 
 sweet to him. Now, as the nature of narrow minds 
 induces them to study trifles, Birotteau plunged 
 suddenly into deep meditation on these four circum- 
 stances, imperceptible in their meaning to others, but 
 
244 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 to him indicative of four catastrophes. The total loss 
 of his happiness was evidently foreshadowed in the 
 neglect to place his slippers, in Marianne's falsehood 
 about the fire, in the unusual removal of his candle- 
 stick to the table of the antechamber, and in the 
 evident intention to keep him waiting in the rain. 
 
 When the fire was burning on the hearth, and the 
 lamp was lighted, and Marianne had departed without 
 saying, as usual, " Does Monsieur want anything 
 more? " the Abbe Birotteau let himself fall gently into 
 the wide and handsome easy-chair of his late friend ; 
 but there was something mournful in the movement 
 with which he dropped upon it. The good soul was 
 crushed by a presentiment of coming calamity. His 
 eyes roved successively to the handsome tall clock, 
 the bureau, curtains, chairs, carpets, to the stately bed, 
 the basin of holy-water, the crucifix, to a Virgin by 
 Valentin, a Christ by Lebrun, — in short, to all the 
 accessories of this cherished room, while his face ex- 
 pressed the anguish of the tenderest farewell that a 
 lover ever took of his first mistress, or an old man of 
 his lately planted trees. The vicar had just perceived, 
 somewhat late it is true, the signs of a dumb persecu- 
 tion instituted against him for the last three months 
 by Mademoiselle Gamard, whose evil intentions would 
 doubtless have been fathomed much sooner by a more 
 intelligent man. Old maids have a special talent for 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 245 
 
 accentuating the words and actions which their dis- 
 likes suggest to them. They scratch like cats. They 
 not only wound but they take pleasure in wounding, 
 and in making their victim see that he is wounded. 
 A man of the world would never have allowed himself 
 to be scratched twice ; the good abbe, on the contrary, 
 had taken several blows from those sharp claws before 
 he could be brought to believe in any evil intention. 
 
 But when he did perceive it, he set to work, with the 
 inquisitorial sagacity which priests acquire by directing 
 consciences and burrowing into the nothings of the 
 confessional, to establish, as though it were a matter 
 of religious controversy, the following proposition : 
 " Admitting that Mademoiselle Gamard did not remem- 
 ber it was Madame de Listo mere's evening, and that 
 Marianne did think I was at home, and did really forget 
 to make my fire, it is impossible, inasmuch as I myself 
 took down my candlestick this morning, that Made- 
 moiselle Gamard, seeing it in her salon, could have 
 supposed I had gone to bed. Ergo, Mademoiselle 
 Gamard intended that I should stand out in the rain, 
 and, by carrying my candlestick upstairs, she meant 
 to make me understand it. What does it all mean ? " 
 he said aloud, roused by the gravity of these circum- 
 stances, and rising as he spoke to take off his damp 
 clothes, get into his dressing-gown, and do up his 
 head for the night. Then he returned from the bed to 
 
246 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 the fireplace, gesticulating, and launching forth in 
 various tones the following sentences, all of which 
 ended in a high falsetto key, like notes of interjection : 
 
 44 What the deuce have I done to her? Why is she 
 angry with me ? Marianne did not forget my fire ! 
 Mademoiselle told her not to light it! I must be a 
 child if I can't see, from the tone and manner she has 
 been taking to me, that I've done something to dis- 
 please her. Nothing like it ever happened to Chape- 
 loud ! I can't live in the midst of such torments as — 
 At my age — " 
 
 He went to bed hoping that the morrow might en- 
 lighten him on the causes of the dislike which 
 threatened to destroy forever the happiness he had 
 now enjoyed two years after wishing for it so long. 
 Alas! the secret reasons for the inimical feelings 
 Mademoiselle Gamard bore to the luckless abbe were 
 fated to remain eternally unknown to him, — not that 
 they were difficult to fathom, but simply because he 
 lacked the good faith and candor by which great souls 
 and scoundrels look within and judge themselves. A 
 man of genius or a trickster says to himself, " I did 
 wrong." Self-interest and native talent are the only 
 infallible and lucid guides. Now the Abbe Birotteau, 
 whose goodness amounted to stupidit}', whose knowl- 
 edge was only, as it were, plastered on him by dint of 
 study, who had no experience whatever of the world 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 247 
 
 and its ways, who lived between the mass and the con- 
 fessional, chiefly occupied in deciding the most trivial 
 matters of conscience in his capacity of confessor to all 
 the schools in town and to a few noble souls who rightly 
 appreciated him, — the Abbe" Birotteau must be re- 
 garded as a great child, to whom most of the practices 
 of social life were utterly unknown. And yet, the 
 natural selfishness of all human beings, reinforced by 
 the selfishness peculiar to the priesthood and that of 
 the narrow life of the provinces had insensibly, and 
 unknown to himself, developed within him. If an}' one 
 had felt enough interest in the goodman to probe his 
 spirit and prove to him that in the numerous petty 
 details of his life and in the minute duties of his daily 
 existence he was essentially lacking in the self-sacrifice 
 he professed, he would have punished and mortified him- 
 self in good faith. But those whom we offend by such 
 unconscious selfishness pay little heed to our real inno- 
 cence ; what they want is vengeance, and they take it. 
 Thus it happened that Birotteau, weak brother that he 
 was, was made to undergo the decrees of that great 
 distributive Justice which goes about compelling the 
 world to execute its judgments, — called by ninnies 
 " the misfortunes of life." 
 
 There was this difference between the late Chapelond 
 and the vicar, — one was a shrewd and clever egoist, 
 the other a simple-minded and clumsy one. When the 
 
248 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 canon went to board with Mademoiselle Gamard he knew 
 exactly how to judge of his landlady's character. The 
 confessional had taught him to understand the bitter- 
 ness that the sense of being kept outside the social pale 
 puts into the heart of an old maid ; he therefore calcu- 
 lated his own treatment of Mademoiselle Gamard very 
 wisely. She was then about thirty-eight years old, and 
 still retained a few pretensions, which, in well-behaved 
 persons of her condition, change, rather later, into 
 strong personal self-esteem. The canon saw plainly 
 that to live comfortably with his landlady he must pay 
 her invariably the same attentions and be more infal- 
 lible than the pope himself. To compass this result, he 
 allowed no points of contact between himself and her 
 except those that politeness demanded, and those which 
 necessarily exist between two persons living under the 
 same roof. Thus, though he and the Abbe Troubert 
 took their regular three meals a da} r , he avoided the 
 family breakfast by inducing Mademoiselle Gamard to 
 send his coffee to his own room. He also avoided the 
 annoyance of supper by taking tea in the houses of 
 friends with whom he spent his evenings. In this way 
 he seldom saw his landlady except at dinner ; but he 
 always came down to that meal a few minutes in ad- 
 vance of the hour. During this visit of courtesy, as it 
 may be called, he talked to her, for the twelve years he 
 had lived under her roof, on nearly the same topics, 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 249 
 
 receiving from her the same answers. How she had 
 slept, her breakfast, the trivial domestic events, her 
 looks, her health, the weather, the time the church 
 services had lasted, the incidents of the mass, the 
 health of such or such a priest, — these were the sub- 
 jects of their daily conversation. During dinner he 
 invariably paid her certain indirect compliments ; the 
 fish had an excellent flavor ; the seasoning of a sauce 
 was delicious ; Mademoiselle Gamard's capacities and 
 virtues as mistress of a household were great. He was 
 sure of flattering the old maid's vanity by praising the 
 skill with which she made or prepared her preserves 
 and pickles and pates and other gastronomical inven- 
 tions. To cap all, the wily canon never left his land- 
 lady's yellow salon after dinner without remarking that 
 there was no house in Tours where he could get such 
 good coffee as that he had just imbibed. 
 
 Thanks to this thorough understanding of Made- 
 moiselle Gamard's character, and to the science of 
 existence which he had put in practice for the last 
 twelve years, no matter of discussion on the internal 
 arrangements of the household had ever come up be- 
 tween them. The Abbe Chapeloud had taken note of 
 the spinster's angles, asperities, and crabbedness, and 
 had so arranged his avoidance of her that he obtained 
 without the least difficulty all the concessions that 
 were necessary to the happiness and tranquillity of 
 
250 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 his life. The result was that Mademoiselle Garaard 
 frequently remarked to her friends and acquaintance 
 that the Abbe Chapeloud was a ver}' amiable man, 
 extremely easy to live with, and a fine mind. 
 
 As to her other lodger, the Abbe Troubert, she said 
 absolutely nothing about him. Completely involved 
 in the round of her life, like a satellite in the orbit of 
 a planet, Troubert was to her a sort of intermediary 
 creature between the individuals of the human species 
 and those of the canine species ; he was classed in her 
 heart next, but directly before, the place intended for 
 friends but now occupied by a fat and wheezy pug 
 which she tenderly loved. She ruled Troubert com- 
 pletely, and the intermingling of their interests was 
 so obvious that many persons of her social sphere be- 
 lieved that the Abbe Troubert had designs on the old 
 maid's property, and was binding her to him unawares 
 with infinite patience, and really directing her while 
 he seemed to be obeying without ever letting her per- 
 ceive in him the slightest wish on his part to govern 
 her. 
 
 When the Abbe' Chapeloud died, the old maid, who 
 desired a lodger with quiet ways, naturally thought of 
 the vicar. Before the canon's will was made known 
 she had meditated offering his rooms to the Abbe 
 Troubert, who was not very comfortable on the ground- 
 floor. But when the Abbe" Birotteau, on receiving his 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 251 
 
 legacy, came to settle in writing the terms of his board 
 she saw he was so in love with the apartment, for 
 which he might now admit his long cherished desires, 
 that she dared not propose the exchange, and accord- 
 ingly sacrificed her sentiments of friendship to the 
 demands of self-interest. But in order to console her 
 beloved canon, Mademoiselle took up the large white 
 Chateau-Renaud bricks that made the floors of his apart- 
 ment and replaced them by wooden floors laid in point 
 de Hongrie. She also rebuilt a smoky chimney. 
 
 For twelve years the Abbe Birotteau had seen his 
 friend Chapeloud in that house without ever giving a 
 thought to the motive of the canon's extreme circum- 
 spection in his relations to Mademoiselle Gamard. 
 When he came himself to live with that saintly woman 
 he was in the condition of a lover on the point of being 
 made happy. Even if he had not been by nature pur- 
 blind of intellect, his eyes were too dazzled by his new 
 happiness to allow him to judge of his landlad} r , or to 
 reflect on the limits which he ought to impose on their 
 daily intercourse. Mademoiselle Gamard, seen from 
 afar and through the prism of those material felicities 
 which the vicar dreamed of enjoying in her house, 
 seemed to him a perfect being, a faultless Christian, 
 essentially charitable, the woman of the Gospel, the 
 wise virgin, adorned by all those humble and modest 
 virtues which shed celestial fragrance upon life. 
 
252 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 So, with the enthusiasm of one who attains an ob- 
 ject long desired, with the candor of a child, and the 
 blundering foolishness of an old man utterly without 
 worldly experience, he fell into the life of Mademoi- 
 selle Gamard precisely as a fly is caught in a spider's 
 web. The first day that he went to dine and sleep at 
 the house he was detained in the salon after dinner, 
 partly to make his landlady's acquaintance, but chiefly 
 by that inexplicable embarrassment which often assails 
 timid people and makes them fear to seem impolite by 
 breaking off a conversation in order to take leave. 
 Consequently he remained there the whole evening. 
 Then a friend of his, a certain Mademoiselle Salomon 
 de Villenoix, came to see him, and this gave Made- 
 moiselle Gamard the happiness of forming a card- 
 table ; so that when the vicar went to bed he felt that 
 he had passed a very agreeable evening. Knowing 
 Mademoiselle Gamard and the Abbe* Troubert but 
 slightly, he saw only the superficial aspects of their 
 characters ; few persons bare their defects at once, 
 they generally take on a becoming veneer. 
 
 The worthy abbe* was thus led to suggest to himself 
 the charming plan of devoting all his evenings to Made- 
 moiselle Gamard, instead of spending them, as Chape- 
 loud had done, elsewhere. The old maid had for years 
 been possessed by a desire which grew stronger day 
 by day. This desire, often formed by old persons and 
 

 The Vicar of Tours. 253 
 
 even by pretty women, had become in Mademoiselle Ga- 
 mard's soul as ardent a longing as that of Birotteau 
 for Chapeloud's apartment ; and it was strengthened 
 by all those feelings of pride, egotism, envy, and vanit}' 
 which pre-exist in the breasts of worldly people. 
 
 This histor}' is of all time ; it suffices to widen 
 slightly the narrow circle in which these personages are 
 about to act to find the coefficient reasons of events 
 which take place in the very highest spheres of social 
 life. 
 
 Mademoiselle Gamard spent her evenings by rotation 
 in six or eight different houses. Whether it was that 
 she disliked being obliged to go out to seek societ}^ and 
 considered that at her age she had a right to expect 
 some return ; or that her pride was wounded at re- 
 ceiving no company in her own house ; or that her 
 self-love craved the compliments she saw her various 
 hostesses receive, — certain it is that her whole ambition 
 was to make her salon a centre towards which a given 
 number of persons should nightly make their wa} r with 
 pleasure. One morning as she left Saint-Gatien, after 
 Birotteau and his friend Mademoiselle Salomon had 
 spent a few evenings with her and with the faithful and 
 patient Troubert, she said to certain of her good friends 
 whom she met at the church door, and whose slave she 
 had hitherto considered herself, that those who wished 
 to see her could certainly come once a week to her 
 
254 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 house, where she had friends enough to make a card- 
 table ; she could not leave the Abbe Birotteau ; Made- 
 moiselle Salomon had not missed a single evening that 
 week; she was devoted to friends; and — et cetera, 
 et cetera. Her speech was all the more humbly haughty 
 and softly persuasive because Mademoiselle Salomon de 
 Villenoix belonged to the most aristocratic society in 
 Tours. For though Mademoiselle Salomon came to 
 Mademoiselle Gamard's house solely out of friendship 
 for the vicar, the old maid triumphed in receiving her, 
 and saw that, thanks to Birotteau, she was on the point 
 of succeeding in her great desire to form a circle as nu- 
 merous and as agreeable as those of Madame de Listo- 
 mere, Mademoiselle Merlin de la Blottiere, and other 
 devout ladies who were in the habit of receiving the 
 pious and ecclesiastical society of Tours. 
 
 But alas ! the Abbe Birotteau himself caused this 
 cherished hope to miscarry. Now if those persons who 
 in the course of their lives have attained to the enjo} r - 
 ment of a long desired happiness and have therefore 
 comprehended the joy of the vicar when he stepped 
 into Chapeloud's vacant place, they will also have 
 gained some faint idea of Mademoiselle Gamard's 
 distress at the overthrow of her favorite plan. 
 
 After accepting his happiness in the old maid's salon 
 for six months with tolerable patience, Birotteau de- 
 serted the house of an evening, carrying with him 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 255 
 
 Mademoiselle Salomon. In spite of her utmost efforts 
 the ambitious Gamard had recruited barely six visitors, 
 whose faithful attendance was more than problematical ; 
 and boston could not be played night after night unless 
 at least four persons were present. The defection of 
 her two principal guests obliged her therefore to make 
 suitable apologies and return to her evening visiting 
 among former friends ; for old maids find their own 
 company so distasteful that they prefer to seek the 
 doubtful pleasures of society. 
 
 The cause of this desertion is plain enough. Although 
 the vicar was one of those to whom heaven is hereafter 
 to belong in virtue of the decree " Blessed are the poor 
 in spirit," he could not, like some fools, endure the 
 annoyance that other fools caused him. Persons with- 
 out minds are like weeds that delight in good earth ; 
 they want to be amused by others, all the more because 
 they are dull within. The incarnation of ennui to which 
 they are victims, joined to the need they feel of getting 
 a divorce from themselves, produces that passion for 
 moving about, for being somewhere else than where 
 they are, which distinguishes their species, — and also 
 that of all beings devoid of sensitiveness, and those who 
 have missed their destinj', or who suffer by their own 
 fault. 
 
 Without really fathoming the vacuity and emptiness 
 of Mademoiselle Gamard's mind, or stating to himself 
 
256 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 the pettiness of her ideas, the poor abbe" perceived, 
 unfortunately too late, the defects which she shared 
 with all old maids, and those which were peculiar to 
 herself. The bad points of others show out so strongly 
 against the good that they usually strike our eyes 
 before they wound us. This moral phenomenon might, 
 at a pinch, be made to excuse the tendency we all have, 
 more or less, to gossip. It is so natural, socially 
 speaking, to laugh at the failings of others that we 
 ought to forgive the ridicule our own absurdities excite, 
 and be annoyed only by calumny. But in this instance 
 the eyes of the good vicar never reached the optical 
 range which enables men of the world to see and evade 
 their neighbors' rough points. Before he could be 
 brought to perceive the faults of his landlady he was 
 forced to undergo the warning which Nature gives to 
 all her creatures — pain. 
 
 Old maids who have never yielded in their habits of 
 life or in their characters to other lives and other 
 characters, as the fate of woman exacts, have, as a 
 general thing, a mania for making others give way to 
 them. In Mademoiselle Gamard this sentiment had 
 degenerated into despotism, but a despotism that could 
 only exercise itself on little things. For instance 
 (among a hundred other examples), the basket of 
 counters placed on the card-table for the Abbe Birot- 
 teau was to stand exactly where she placed ft; and 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 257 
 
 the abbe annexed her terribly by moving it, which he 
 did nearty every evening. How is this sensitiveness 
 stupidly spent on nothings to be accounted for? what 
 is the object of it? No one could have told in this 
 case ; Mademoiselle Gamard herself knew no reason 
 for it. The vicar, though a sheep b} r nature, did not 
 like, any more than other sheep, to feel the crook too 
 often, especially when it bristled with spikes. Not 
 seeking to explain to himself the patience of the Abbe* 
 Troubert, Birotteau simply withdrew from the happi- 
 ness which Mademoiselle Gamard believed that she 
 seasoned to his liking, — for she regarded happiness as 
 a thing to be made, like her preserves. But the luck- 
 less abbe made the break in a clumsy way, the natural 
 way of his own naive character, and it was not carried 
 out without much nagging and sharp-shooting, which 
 the Abb6 Birotteau endeavored to bear as if he did not 
 feel them. 
 
 By the end of the first year of his sojourn under 
 Mademoiselle Gamard's roof the vicar had resumed his 
 former habits ; spending two evenings a week with 
 Madame de Listomere, three with Mademoiselle Sal- 
 omon, and the other two with Mademoiselle Merlin de 
 la Blottiere. These ladies belonged to the aristocratic 
 circles of Tourainean society, to which Mademoiselle 
 Gamard was not admitted. Therefore the abbe's 
 abandonment was the more insulting, because it made 
 17 
 
258 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 her feel her want of social value ; all choice implies 
 contempt for the thing rejected. 
 
 " Monsieur Birotteau does not find us agreeable 
 enough," said the Abbe* Troubert to Mademoiselle 
 Gamard's friends when she was forced to tell them that 
 her " evenings" must be given up. " He is a man of 
 the world, and a good liver ! He wants fashion, luxury, 
 witty conversation, and the scandals of the town." 
 
 These words of course obliged Mademoiselle Gamard 
 to defend herself at Birotteau's expense. 
 
 " He is not much a man of the world," she said. 
 *' Ifit had not been for the Abbe Chapeloud he would 
 never have been received at Madame de Lis to tne re's. 
 Oh, what did n't I lose in losing the Abbe* Chapeloud ! 
 Such an amiable man, and so easy to live with ! In 
 twelve whole years I never had the slightest difficulty 
 or disagreement with him." 
 
 Presented thus, the innocent abbe* was considered by 
 this bourgeois society, which secretly hated the aristo- 
 cratic society, as a man essentially exacting and hard 
 to get along with. For a week Mademoiselle Gamard 
 enjoyed the pleasure of being pitied by friends who, 
 without really thinking one word of what they said, 
 kept repeating to her: "How could he have turned 
 against you ? — so kind and gentle as you are ! " or, 
 '* Console yourself, dear Mademoiselle Gamard, you 
 are so well known that — " et cetera. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 259 
 
 Nevertheless, these friends, enchanted to escape one 
 evening a week in the Cloister, the darkest, dreariest, 
 and most out of the way corner in Tours, blessed the 
 poor vicar in their hearts. 
 
 Between persons who are perpetually in each other's 
 company dislike or love increases daily ; every moment 
 brings reasons to love or hate each other more and 
 more. The Abbe Birotteau soon became intolerable to 
 Mademoiselle Gamard. Eighteen months after she 
 had taken him to board, and at the moment when the 
 worthy man was mistaking the silence of hatred for the 
 peacefulness of content, and applauding himself for 
 having, as he said, " managed matters so well with the 
 old maid," he was really the object of an underhand 
 persecution and a vengeance deliberately planned. The 
 four marked circumstances of the locked door, the 
 forgotten slippers, the lack of fire, and the removal of 
 the candlestick, were the first signs that revealed to 
 him a terrible enmity, the final consequences of which 
 were destined not to strike him until the time came 
 when they were irreparable. 
 
 As he went to bed the wortlry vicar worked his 
 brains — quite uselessly, for he was soon at the end of 
 them — to explain to himself the extraordinarily dis- 
 courteous conduct of Mademoiselle Gamard. The fact 
 was that, having all along acted logically in obeying 
 the natural laws of his own egotism, it was impossible 
 
260 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 that he should now perceive his own faults towards his 
 landlady. 
 
 Though the great things of life are simple to under- 
 stand and easy to express, the littlenesses require a vast 
 number of details to explain them. The foregoing 
 events, which may be called a sort of prologue to this 
 bourgeois drama, in which we shall find passions as 
 violent as those excited hy great interests, required this 
 long introduction ; and it would have been difficult for 
 any faithful historian to shorten the account of these 
 minute developments. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 261 
 
 II. 
 
 The next morning, on awaking, Birotteau thought so 
 much of his prospective canonry that he forgot the four 
 circumstances in which he had seen, the night before, 
 such threatening prognostics of a future full of misery. 
 The vicar was not a man to get up without a fire. He 
 rang to let Marianne know he was awake and that she 
 must come to him ; then he remained, as his habit was, 
 absorbed in somnolent musings. The servant's custom 
 was to make the fire and gently draw him from his 
 half sleep by the murmured sound of her movements, 
 — a sort of music which he loved. Twenty minutes 
 passed and Marianne had not appeared. The vicar, 
 now half a canon, was about to ring again, when he 
 let go the bell-pull, hearing a man's step on the stair- 
 case. In a minute more the Abbe Troubert, after 
 discreetly knocking at the door, obeyed Birotteau's 
 invitation and entered the room. This visit, which the 
 two abbes usually paid to each other once a month, 
 was no surprise to the vicar. The canon at once ex- 
 claimed when he saw that Marianne had not made the 
 fire of his quasi-colleague. He opened the window 
 
262 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 and called to her harshly, telling her to come at once 
 to the abbe ; then, turning round to his ecclesiastical 
 brother, he said, "If Mademoiselle knew that you 
 had no fire she would scold Marianne." 
 
 After this speech he inquired about Birotteau's 
 health, and asked in a gentle voice if he had had any 
 recent news that gave him hopes of his canonr}\ The 
 vicar explained the steps he had taken, and told, 
 naively, the names of the persons with whom Madame 
 de Listomere was using her influence, quite unaware that 
 Troubert had never forgiven that lady for not admit- 
 ting him — the Abbe" Troubert, twice proposed by the 
 bishop as vicar-general ! — to her house. 
 
 It would be impossible to find two figures which 
 presented so many contrasts to each other as those of 
 the two abbes. Troubert, tall and lean, was yellow 
 and bilious, while the vicar was what we call, famil- 
 iarly, plump. Birotteau's face, round and rudd}', pro- 
 claimed a kindly nature barren of ideas, while that 
 of the Abbe Troubert, long and ploughed by many 
 wrinkles, took on at times an expression of sarcasm, 
 or else of contempt ; but it was necessary to watch 
 him very closely before those sentiments could be de- 
 tected. The canon's habitual condition was perfect 
 calmness, and his eyelids were usually lowered over his 
 orange-colored eyes, which could, however, give clear 
 and piercing glances when he liked. Reddish hair added 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 263 
 
 to the gloom} 7 effect of this countenance, which was 
 always obscured by the veil which deep meditation 
 drew across its features. Many persons at first sight 
 thought him absorbed in high and earnest ambitions ; 
 but those who claimed to know him better denied that 
 impression, insisting that he was only stupidly dull 
 under Mademoiselle Gamard's despotism, or else worn 
 out by too much fasting. He seldom spoke, and never 
 laughed. When it did so happen that he felt agree- 
 ably moved, a feeble smile would flicker on his lips 
 and lose itself in the wrinkles of his face. 
 
 Birotteau, on the other hand, was all expansion, all 
 frankness ; he loved good things and was amused b} T 
 trifles with the simplicit}' of a man who knew no spite 
 or malice. The Abbe Troubert roused, at first sight, 
 an involuntary feeling of fear, while the vicar's pres- 
 ence brought a kindly smile to the lips of all who 
 looked at him. When the tall canon marched with 
 solemn step through the naves and cloisters of Saint- 
 Gatien, his head bowed, his eye stern, respect fol- 
 lowed him ; that bent face was in harmony with the 
 yellowing arches of the cathedral ; the folds of his 
 cassock fell in monumental lines that were worthy of 
 statuary. The good vicar, on the contrary, perambu- 
 lated about with no gravity at all. He trotted and 
 ambled and seemed at times to roll himself along. 
 But with all this there was one point of resem- 
 
264 The Vicar of Tours. . 
 
 blance between the two men. For, precise!}* as Trou- 
 bert's ambitious air, which made him feared, had 
 contributed probably to keep him down to the insig- 
 nificant position of a mere canon, so the character and 
 ways of Birotteau marked him out as perpetually the 
 vicar of the cathedral and nothing higher. 
 
 Yet the Abbe Troubert, now fifty years of age, had 
 entirely removed, partly by the circumspection of his 
 conduct and the apparent lack of all ambition, and 
 partly by his saintly life, the fears which his suspected 
 ability and his powerful presence had roused in the minds 
 of his superiors. His health having seriously failed 
 during the last year, it seemed probable that he would 
 soon be raised to the office of vicar-general of the 
 archbishopric. His competitors themselves desired the 
 appointment, so that their own plans might have time 
 to mature during the few remaining days which a 
 malady, now become chronic, might allow him. Far 
 from offering the same hopes to rivals, Birotteau's 
 triple chin showed to all who wanted his coveted 
 canonry an evidence of the soundest health ; even his 
 gout seemed to them, in accordance with the proverb, 
 an assurance of longevity. 
 
 The Abbe Chapeloud, a man of great good sense, 
 whose amiability had made the leaders of the diocese 
 and the members of the best society in Tours seek his 
 company, had steadily opposed, though secretly and 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 265 
 
 with much judgment, the elevation of the Abbe Trou- 
 bert. He had even adroitly managed to prevent his 
 access to the salons of the best society. Nevertheless, 
 during Chapeloud's lifetime Troubert treated fiim in- 
 variably with great respect, and showed him on all 
 occasions the utmost deference. This constant sub- 
 mission did not, however, change the opinion of the 
 late canon, who said to Birotteau during the last walk 
 they took together: "Distrust that lean stick of a 
 Troubert, — Sixtus the Fifth reduced to the limits of 
 a bishopric ! " 
 
 Such was the friend, the abiding guest of Mademoi- 
 selle Gamard, who now came, the morning after the 
 old maid had, as it were, declared war against the poor 
 vicar, to pay his brother a visit and show him marks 
 of friendship. 
 
 44 You must excuse Marianne," said the canon, as 
 the woman entered. " I suppose she went first to my 
 rooms. They are very damp, and I coughed all night. 
 You are most healthily situated here," he added, look- 
 ing up at the cornice. 
 
 44 Yes ; I am lodged like a canon," replied Birotteau. 
 
 " And I like a vicar," said the other, humbly. 
 
 "But you will soon be settled in the archbishop's 
 palace," said the kindly vicar, who wanted everybody 
 to be happy. 
 
 44 Yes, or in the cemetery ; but God's will be done ! " 
 
266 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 and Troubert raised his eyes to heaven resignedly. 
 M I came," he said, " to ask you to lend me the ' Register 
 of Bishops.' You are the only man in Tours who owns 
 a copy." 
 
 " Take it out of my library," replied Birotteau, re- 
 minded by the canon's words of the greatest happiness 
 of his life. 
 
 The canon passed into the library and stayed there 
 while the vicar dressed. Presently the breakfast bell 
 rang, and the gouty vicar reflected that if it had not 
 been for Troubert's visit he would have had no fire to 
 dress by. " He 's a kind man," thought he. 
 
 The two priests went downstairs together, each 
 armed with a huge folio which they laid on one of 
 the side tables in the dining-room. 
 
 " What's all that?" asked Mademoiselle Gamard, 
 in a sharp voice, addressing Birotteau. "I hope you 
 are not going to litter up nty dining-room with your 
 old books ! " 
 
 " They are books I wanted," replied the Abbe 
 Troubert. " Monsieur Birotteau has been kind enough 
 to lend them to me." 
 
 " I might have guessed it," she said, with a con- 
 temptuous smile. " Monsieur Birotteau doesn't often 
 read books of that size." 
 
 " How are you, mademoiselle?" said the vicar, in a 
 mellifluous voice. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 267 
 
 " Not very well," she replied, shortly. " You woke 
 me last night out of my first sleep, and I was wakeful 
 for the rest of the night." Then, sitting down, she 
 added, " Gentlemen, the milk is getting cold." 
 
 Stupefied at being so ill-naturedly received by his 
 landlady, from whom he half expected an apology, and 
 yet alarmed, like all timid people at the prospect of a 
 discussion, especially if it relates to themselves, the 
 poor vicar took his seat in silence. Then, observing in 
 Mademoiselle Gamard's face the visible signs of ill- 
 humor, he was goaded into a struggle between his rea- 
 son, which told him that he ought not to submit to such 
 discourtesy from a landlady, and his natural character, 
 which prompted him to avoid a quarrel. 
 
 Torn by this inward misery, Birotteau fell to exam- 
 ining attentively the broad green lines painted on the 
 oilcloth which, from custom immemorial, Mademoiselle 
 Gamard left on the table at breakfast-time, without 
 regard to the ragged edges or the various scars dis- 
 played on its surface. The priests sat opposite to each 
 other in cane-seated arm-chairs on either side of the 
 square table, the head of which was taken by the land- 
 lady, who seemed to dominate the whole from a high 
 chair raised on casters, filled with cushions, and stand- 
 ing very near to the dining-room stove. This room and 
 the salon were on the ground-floor beneath the salon 
 and bedroom of the Abbe Birotteau. 
 
268 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 When the vicar had received his cup of coffee, duly 
 sugared, from Mademoiselle Gamard, he felt chilled to 
 the bone at the grim silence in which he was forced 
 to proceed with the usually gay function of breakfast. 
 He dared not look at Troubert's dried-up features, nor 
 at the threatening visage of the old maid ; and he 
 therefore turned, to keep himself in countenance, to 
 the plethoric pug which was lying on a cushion near 
 the stove, — a position that victim of obesity seldom 
 quitted, having a little plate of dainties always at his 
 left side and a bowl of fresh water at his right. 
 
 " Well, my pretty," said the vicar, " are you waiting 
 for your coffee ? " 
 
 The personage thus addressed, one of the most im- 
 portant in the household, though the least troublesome 
 inasmuch as he had ceased to bark and left the talking 
 to his mistress, turned his little eyes, sunk in rolls of 
 fat, upon Birotteau. Then he closed them peevishly. 
 To explain the misery of the poor vicar it should be 
 said that being endowed by nature with an empty and 
 sonorous loquacity, like the resounding of a football, 
 he was in the habit of asserting, without any medical 
 reason to back him, that speech favored digestion. 
 Mademoiselle Gamard, who believed in this hygienic 
 doctrine, had not as 3'et refrained, in spite of their 
 coolness, from talking at meals ; though, for the last 
 few mornings, the vicar had been forced to strain his 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 269 
 
 mind to find beguiling topics on which to loosen her 
 tongue. If the narrow limits of this history permitted 
 us to report even one of the conversations which often 
 brought a bitter and sarcastic smile to the lips of the 
 Abbe Troubert, it would offer a finished picture of the 
 Boeotian life of the provinces. The singular revelations 
 of the Abbe - Birotteau and Mademoiselle Gamard re- 
 lating to their personal opinions on politics, religion, and 
 literature would delight observing minds. It would be 
 highty entertaining to transcribe the reasons on which 
 they mutually doubted the death of Napoleon in 1820, 
 or the conjectures by which the}" mutually believed that 
 the Dauphin was living, — rescued from the Temple in 
 the hollow of a huge log of wood. Who could have 
 helped laughing to hear them assert and prove, by 
 reasons evidently their own, that the King of France 
 alone imposed the taxes, that the Chambers were con- 
 voked to destnty the clergy, that thirteen hundred 
 thousand persons had perished on the scaffold during 
 the Revolution? They frequently discussed the press, 
 without either of them having the faintest idea of what 
 that modern engine really was. Monsieur Birotteau 
 listened with acceptance to Mademoiselle Gamard 
 when she told him that a man who ate an egg every 
 morning would die in a year, and that facts proved it ; 
 that a roll of light bread eaten without drinking for 
 several days together would cure sciatica ; that all the 
 
270 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 workmen who assisted in pulling down the Abbey 
 Saint-Martin had died in six months; that a certain 
 prefect, under orders from Bonaparte, had done his 
 best to damage the towers of Saint-Gatien, — with a 
 hundred other absurd tales. 
 
 But on this occasion poor Birotteau felt he was 
 tongue-tied, and he resigned himself to eat a meal 
 without engaging in conversation. After a while, 
 however, the thought crossed his mind that silence was 
 dangerous for his digestion, and he boldly remarked, 
 u This coffee is excellent." 
 
 That act of courage was completely wasted. Then, 
 after looking at the scrap of sky visible above the 
 garden between the two buttresses of Saint-Gatien, the 
 vicar again summoned nerve to say, •• It will be finer 
 weather to-day than it was yesterday." 
 
 At that remark Mademoiselle Gamard cast her most 
 gracious look on the Abbe" Troubert, and immediately 
 turned her eyes with terrible severity on Birotteau, who 
 fortunately by that time was looking on his plate. 
 
 No creature of the feminine gender was ever more 
 capable of presenting to the mind the elegiac nature 
 of an old maid than Mademoiselle Sophie Gamard. In 
 order to describe a being whose character gives a 
 momentous interest to the petty events of the present 
 drama and to the anterior lives of the actors in it, it 
 ma}' be useful to give a summary of the ideas which 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 271 
 
 find expression in the being of an Old Maid, — re- 
 membering always that the habits of life form the soul, 
 and the soul forms the physical presence. 
 
 Though all things in society as well as in the universe 
 are said to have a purpose, there do exist here below 
 certain beings whose purpose and utility seem inexpli- 
 cable. Moral philosophy and political economy both 
 condemn the individual who consumes without pro- 
 ducing ; who fills a place on the earth but does not 
 shed upon it either good or evil, — for evil is some- 
 times good the meaning of which is not at once made 
 manifest. It is seldom that old maids of their own 
 motion enter the ranks of these unproductive beings. 
 Now, if the consciousness of work done gives to the 
 workers a sense of satisfaction which helps them to 
 support life, the certainty of being a useless burden 
 must, one would think, produce a contrary effect, and 
 fill the minds of such fruitless beings with the same 
 contempt for themselves which they inspire in others. 
 This harsh social reprobation is one of the causes which 
 contribute to fill the souls of old maids with the dis- 
 tress that appears in their faces. Prejudice, in which 
 there is truth, does cast, throughout the world but 
 especially in France, a great stigma on the woman with 
 whom no man has been willing to share the blessings 
 or endure the ills of life. Now, there comes to all 
 unmarried women a period when the world, be it right 
 
 y 
 
272 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 or wrong, condemns them on the fact of this contempt, 
 this rejection. If the}- are ugly, the goodness of their 
 characters ought to have compensated for their natural 
 imperfections ; if, on the contrary, they are handsome, 
 that fact argues that their misfortune has some serious 
 cause. It is impossible to say which of the two classes 
 is most deserving of rejection. If, on the other hand, 
 their celibac}' is deliberate, if it proceeds from a desire 
 for independence, neither men nor mothers will forgive 
 their disloyalty to womanly devotion, evidenced in their 
 refusal to feel those passions which render their sex so 
 affecting. To renounce the pangs of womanhood is to 
 abjure its poetry and cease to merit the consolations to 
 which mothers have inalienable rights. 
 
 Moreover, the generous sentiments, the exquisite qual- 
 ities of a woman will not develop unless by constant 
 exercise. By remaining unmarried, a creature of the 
 female sex becomes void of meaning ; selfish and cold, 
 she creates repulsion. This implacable judgment of 
 the world is unfortunately too just to leave old maids 
 in ignorance of its causes. Such ideas shoot up in 
 their hearts as naturally as the effects of their saddened 
 lives appear upon their features. Consequently they 
 wither, because the constant expression of happiness 
 which blooms on the faces of other women and gives 
 so soft a grace to their movements has never existed 
 for them. They grow sharp and peevish because all 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 273 
 
 human beings who miss their vocation are unhappy, 
 they suffer, and suffering gives birth to the bitterness 
 of ill-will. In fact, before an old maid blames herself 
 for her isolation she blames others, and there is but one 
 step between reproach and the desire for revenge. 
 
 But more than this, the ill grace and want of charm 
 noticeable in these women are the necessary result of 
 their lives. Never having felt a desire to please, ele- 
 gance and the refinements of good taste are foreign to 
 them. They see only themselves in themselves. This 
 instinct brings them, unconsciousty, to choose the 
 things that are most convenient to themselves, at the 
 sacrifice of those which might be more agreeable to 
 others. Without rendering account to their own minds 
 of the difference between themselves and other women, 
 they end by feeling that difference and suffering under 
 it. Jealousy is an indelible sentiment in the female 
 breast. An old maid's soul is jealous and yet void ; 
 for she knows but one side — the miserable side — of the 
 onl}' passion men will allow (because it flatters them) 
 to women. Thus thwarted in all their hopes, forced to 
 deny themselves the natural development of their na- 
 tures, old maids endure an inward torment to which they 
 never grow accustomed. It is hard at any age, above 
 all for a woman, to see a feeling of repulsion on the faces 
 of others, when her true destiny is to move all hearts 
 about her to emotions of grace and love. One result 
 
 18 
 
274 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 of this inward trouble is that an old maid's glance is 
 always oblique, less from modest}' than from fear and 
 shame. Such beings never forgive society for their 
 false position because they never forgive themselves 
 for it. 
 
 Now it is impossible for a woman who is perpetually 
 at war with herself and living in contradiction to her 
 true life, to leave others in peace or refrain from en- 
 vying their happiness. The whole range of these sad 
 truths could be read in the dulled gray eyes of Made- 
 moiselle Gamard ; the dark circles that surrounded 
 those eyes told of the inward conflicts of her solitary 
 life. All the wrinkles on her face were in straight lines. 
 The structure of her forehead and cheeks was rigid 
 and prominent. She allowed, with apparent indiffer- 
 ence, certain scattered hairs, once brown, to grow 
 upon her chin. Her thin lips scarcely covered teeth 
 that were too long, though still quite white. Her com- 
 plexion was dark, and her hair, originally black, had 
 turned gray from frightful headaches, — a misfortune 
 which obliged her to wear a false front. Not knowing 
 how to put it on so as to conceal the junction between 
 the real and the false, there were often little gaps be- 
 tween the border of her cap and the black string with 
 which this semi-wig (always badly curled) was fastened 
 to her head. Her gown, silk in summer, merino in winter, 
 and always brown in color, was invariably rather tight 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 275 
 
 for her angular figure and thin arms. Her collar, limp 
 and bent, exposed too much the red skin of a neck 
 which was ribbed like an oak-leaf in winter seen in 
 the light. Her origin explains to some extent the defects 
 of her conformation. She was the daughter of a wood- 
 merchant, a peasant, who had risen from the ranks. 
 She might have been plump at eighteen, but no trace 
 remained of the fair complexion and pretty color of 
 which she was wont to boast. The tones of her flesh 
 had taken the pallid tints so often seen in devotes. 
 Her aquiline nose was the feature that chiefly pro- 
 claimed the despotism of her nature, and the flat shape 
 of her forehead the narrowness of her mind. Her move- 
 ments had an odd abruptness which precluded all grace ; 
 the mere motion with which she twitched her handker- 
 chief from her bag and blew her nose with a loud noise 
 would have shown her character and habits to a keen 
 observer. Being rather tall, she held herself very 
 erect, and justified the remark of a naturalist who once 
 explained the peculiar gait of old maids by declaring 
 that their joints were consolidating. When she walked 
 her movements were not equally distributed over her 
 whole person, as they are in other women, producing 
 those graceful undulations which are so attractive. 
 She moved, so to speak, in a single block, seeming to ad- 
 vance at each step like the statue of the Commendatore. 
 When she felt in good humor she was apt, like other 
 
276 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 old maids, to tell of the chances she had had to marry, 
 and of her fortunate discovery in time of the want of 
 means of her lovers, — proving, unconsciously, that her 
 worldl}' judgment was better than her heart. 
 
 This typical figure of the genus Old Maid was well 
 framed by the grotesque designs, representing Turkish 
 landscapes, on a varnished paper which decorated the 
 walls of the dining-room. Mademoiselle Gamard usu- 
 ally sat in this room, which boasted of two pier tables 
 and a barometer. Before the chair of each abbe was 
 a little cushion covered with worsted work, the colors 
 of which were faded. The salon in which she re- 
 ceived company was worthy of its mistress. It will be 
 visible to the eye at once when we state that it went 
 by the name of the " yellow salon." The curtains were 
 yellow, the furniture and walls yellow ; on the mantel- 
 piece, surmounted by a mirror in a gilt frame, the 
 candlesticks and a clock all of crystal struck the eye 
 with sharp brilliancy. As to the private apartment of 
 Mademoiselle Gamard, no one had ever been permitted 
 to look into it. Conjecture alone suggested that it was 
 full of odds and ends, worn-out furniture, and bits of 
 stuff and pieces dear to the hearts of all old maids. 
 
 Such was the woman destined to exert a vast influ- 
 ence on the last years of the Abbe Birotteau. 
 
 For want of exercising in nature's own way the ac- 
 tivity bestowed upon women, and }*et impelled to spend 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 211 
 
 it in some way or other, Mademoiselle Gamard had 
 acquired the habit of using it in petty intrigues, pro- 
 vincial cabals, and those self-seeking schemes which 
 occupy, sooner or later, the lives of all old maids. 
 Birotteau, unhappily, had developed in Sophie Gamard 
 the only sentiments which it was possible for that poor 
 creature to feel, — those of hatred ; a passion hitherto 
 latent under the calmness and monotony of provincial 
 life, but which was now to become the more intense 
 because it was spent on petty things and in the midst 
 of a narrow sphere. Birotteau was one of those beings 
 who are predestined to suffer because, being unable to 
 see things, they cannot avoid them ; to them the worst 
 happens. 
 
 " Yes, it will be a fine day," replied the canon, after 
 a pause, apparently issuing from a revery and wishing 
 to conform to the rules of politeness. 
 
 Birotteau, frightened at the length of time which had 
 elapsed between the question and the answer, — for he 
 had, for the first time in his life, taken his coffee with- 
 out uttering a word, — now left the dining-room where 
 his heart was squeezed as if in a vise. Feeling that 
 the coffee lay heav}' on his stomach, he went to walk in 
 a sad mood among the narrow, box-edged paths which 
 outlined a star in the little garden. As he turned 
 after making the first round, he saw Mademoiselle 
 Gamard and the Abbe Troubert standing stock-still 
 
278 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 and silent on the threshold of the door, — he with his 
 arms folded and motionless like a statue on a tomb ; 
 she leaning against the blind door. Both seemed to 
 be gazing at him and counting his steps. Nothing is 
 so embarrassing to a creature naturally timid as to feel 
 itself the object of a close examination, and if that is 
 made by the eyes of hatred, the sort of suffering it 
 causes is changed into intolerable martyrdom. 
 
 Presently Birotteau fancied he was preventing Made- 
 moiselle Gamard and the abbe" from walking in the 
 narrow path. That idea, inspired equally by fear and 
 kindness, became so strong that he left the garden and 
 went to the church, thinking no longer of his canonry, 
 so absorbed was he by the disheartening tyranny of 
 the old maid. Luckily for him he happened to find 
 much to do at Saint-Gatien, — several funerals, a mar- 
 riage, and two baptisms. Thus employed he forgot his 
 griefs. When his stomach told him that dinner was 
 ready he drew out his watch and saw, not without alarm, 
 that it was some minutes after four. Being well aware 
 of Mademoiselle Gamard's punctuality, he hurried back 
 to the house. 
 
 He saw at once on passing the kitchen that the first 
 course had been removed. When he reached the 
 dining-room the old maid said, with a tone of voice in 
 which were mingled sour rebuke and joy at being able 
 to blame him : — 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 279 
 
 "It is half-past four, Monsieur Birotteau. You 
 know we are not to wait for you." 
 
 The vicar looked at the clock in the dining-room, and 
 saw at once, by the way the gauze which protected it 
 from dust had been moved, that his landlady had 
 opened the face of the dial and set the hands in ad- 
 vance of the clock of the cathedral. He could make 
 no remark. Had he uttered his suspicion it would only 
 have caused and apparently justified one of those fierce 
 and eloquent explosions to which Mademoiselle Gamard, 
 like other women of her class, knew very well how to 
 give vent in particular cases. The thousand and one 
 annoyances which a servant will sometimes make her 
 master bear, or a woman her husband, were instinc- 
 tively divined by Mademoiselle Gamard and used upon 
 Birotteau. The way in which she delighted in plotting 
 against the poor vicar's domestic comfort bore all the 
 marks of what we must call a profoundly malignant 
 genius. Yet she so managed that she was never, so 
 far as eye could see, in the wrong. 
 
280 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 III. 
 
 Eight days after the date on which this history 
 began, the new arrangements of the household and the 
 relations which grew up between the Abbe" Birotteau 
 and Mademoiselle Gamard revealed to the former the 
 existence of a plot which had been hatching for the last 
 six months. 
 
 As long as the old maid exercised her vengeance in 
 an underhand way, and the vicar was able to shut his 
 eyes to it and refuse to believe in her malevolent inten- 
 tions, the moral effect upon him was slight. But since 
 the affair of the candlestick and the altered clock, 
 Birotteau would doubt no longer that he was under an 
 eye of hatred turned fully upon him. From that moment 
 he fell into despair, seeing everywhere the skinn}', claw- 
 like fingers of Mademoiselle Gamard ready to hook 
 into his heart. The old maid, happy in a sentiment as 
 fruitful of emotions as that of vengeance, enjoyed 
 circling and swooping above the vicar as a bird of prey 
 hovers and swoops above a field-mouse before pouncing 
 down upon it and devouring it. She had long since 
 laid a plan which the poor dumbfounded priest was 
 quite incapable of imagining, and which she now pro- 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 281 
 
 ceeded to unfold with that genius for little things often 
 shown by solitary persons, whose souls, incapable of 
 feeling the grandeur of true piety, fling themselves into 
 the details of outward devotion. 
 
 The petty nature of his troubles prevented Birotteau, 
 always effusive and liking to be pitied and consoled, 
 from enjoying the soothing pleasure of taking his 
 friends into his confidence, — a last but cruel aggrava- 
 tion of his misery. The little amount of tact which he 
 derived from his timidity made him fear to seem ridic- 
 ulous in concerning himself with such pettiness. And 
 yet those petty things made up the sum of his exist- 
 ence, — that cherished existence, full of busyness about 
 nothings, and of nothingness in its business ; a color- 
 less barren life in which strong feelings were misfortunes, 
 and the absence of emotion happiness. The poor 
 priest's paradise was changed, in a moment, into hell. 
 His sufferings became intolerable. The terror he felt 
 at the prospect of a discussion with Mademoiselle 
 Gamard increased day by day ; the secret distress 
 which blighted his life began to injure his health. One 
 morning, as he put on his mottled blue stockings, he 
 noticed a marked diminution in the circumference of 
 his calves. Horrified by so cruel and undeniable a 
 symptom, he resolved to make an effort and appeal to 
 the Abbe" Troubert, requesting him to intervene, offi- 
 cially, between Mademoiselle Gamard and himself. 
 
282 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 When he found himself in presence of the imposing 
 canon, who, in order to receive his visitor in a bare 
 and cheerless room, had hastily quitted a study full of 
 papers, where he worked incessantly and where no one 
 was ever admitted, the vicar felt half ashamed at 
 speaking of Mademoiselle Gamard's provocations to a 
 man who appeared to be so gravely occupied. But 
 after going through the agon}' of the mental delibera- 
 tions which all humble, undecided, and feeble persons 
 endure about things of even no importance, he decided, 
 not without much swelling and beating of the heart, to 
 explain his position to the Abb6 Troubert. 
 
 The canon listened in a cold, grave manner, trying, 
 but in vain, to repress an occasional smile which to 
 more intelligent eyes than those of the vicar might have 
 betrayed the emotions of a secret satisfaction. A flame 
 seemed to dart from his eyelids when Birotteau pic- 
 tured with the eloquence of genuine feeling the constant 
 bitterness he was made to swallow ; but Troubert laid 
 his hand above those lids with a gesture very common 
 to thinkers, maintaining the dignified demeanor which 
 was usual with him. When the vicar had ceased to 
 speak he would indeed have been puzzled had he 
 sought on Troubert's face, marbled with yellow 
 blotches even more yellow than his usually bilious skin, 
 for any trace of the feelings he must have excited in 
 that mysterious priest. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 283 
 
 After a moment's silence the canon made one of 
 those answers which required long study before their 
 meaning could be thoroughly perceived, though later 
 they proved to reflecting persons the astonishing depths 
 of his spirit and the power of his mind. He simply 
 crushed Birotteau by telling him that " these things 
 amazed him all the more because he should never have 
 suspected their existence were it not for his brother's 
 confession. He attributed such stupidity on his part 
 to the gravity of his occupations, his labors, the absorp- 
 tion in which his mind was held by certain elevated 
 thoughts which prevented his taking due notice of the 
 petty details of life." He made the vicar observe, but 
 without appearing to censure the conduct of a man 
 whose age and connections deserved all respect, that 
 " in former days, recluses thought little about their food 
 and lodging in the solitude of their retreats, where they 
 were lost in holy contemplations," and that " in our 
 days, priests could make a retreat for themselves in the 
 solitude of their own hearts." Then, reverting to 
 Birotteau's affairs, he added that " such disagreements 
 were a novelty to him. For twelve years nothing of 
 the kind had occurred between Mademoiselle Gamard 
 and the venerable Abbe Chapeloud. As for himself, he 
 might, no doubt, be an arbitrator between the vicar and 
 their landlady, because his friendship for that person 
 had never gone beyond the limits imposed by the 
 
284 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 Church on her faithful servants ; but if so, justice 
 demanded that he should hear both sides. He 
 certainly saw no change in Mademoiselle Gamard, who 
 seemed to him the same as ever ; he had always sub- 
 mitted to a few of her caprices, knowing that the ex- 
 cellent woman was kindness and gentleness itself; the 
 slight fluctuations of her temper should be attributed, 
 he thought, to sufferings caused by a pulmonary affection, 
 of which she said little, resigning herself to bear them 
 in a truly Christian spirit." He ended by assuring the 
 vicar that " if he stayed a few years longer in Made- 
 moiselle Gamard's house he would learn to understand 
 her better and acknowledge the real value of her 
 excellent nature." 
 
 Birotteau left the room confounded. In the direful 
 necessity of consulting no one, he now judged Made- 
 moiselle Gamard as he would himself, and the poor 
 man fancied that if he left her house for a few days he 
 might extinguish, for want of fuel, the dislike the old 
 maid felt for him. He accordingly resolved to spend, 
 as he formerly did, a week or so at a country-house 
 where Madame de Listomere passed her autumns, a 
 season when the sky is usually pure and tender in 
 Touraine. Poor man ! in so doing he did the thing 
 that was most desired by his terrible enemy, whose 
 plans could only have been brought to nought by the 
 resistant patience of a monk. But the vicar, unable 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 285 
 
 to divine them, not understanding even his own affairs, 
 was doomed to fall, like a lamb, at the butcher's first 
 blow. 
 
 Madame de Listomere's counts-place, situated on 
 the embankment which lies between Tours and the 
 heights of Saint-Georges, with a southern exposure and 
 surrounded by rocks, combined the charms of the 
 county with the pleasures of the town. It took but 
 ten minutes from the bridge of Tours to reach the 
 house, which was called the u Alouette," — a great ad- 
 vantage in a region where no one will put himself 
 out for an}'thing whatsoever, not even to seek a 
 pleasure. 
 
 The Abbe Birotteau had been about ten days at the 
 Alouette, when, one morning while he was breakfasting, 
 the porter came to say that Monsieur Caron desired to 
 speak with him. Monsieur Caron was Mademoiselle 
 Gamard's lawyer, and had charge of her affairs. Birot- 
 teau, not remembering this, and unable to think of 
 any matter of litigation between himself and others, 
 left the table to see the lawyer in a state of great agi- 
 tation. He found him modestly seated on the balus- 
 trade of a terrace. 
 
 " Your intention of ceasing to reside in Mademoi- 
 selle Gamard's house being made evident — " began 
 the man of business. 
 
 "Eh! monsieur," cried the Abbe Birotteau, inter- 
 
286 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 rupting him, " I have not the slightest intention of 
 leaving it." 
 
 "Nevertheless, monsieur," replied the lawyer, "} t ou 
 must have had some agreement in the matter with 
 Mademoiselle, for she has sent me to ask how long 
 you intend to remain in the country. The event of a 
 long absence was not foreseen in the agreement, and 
 may lead to a contest. Now, Mademoiselle Gamard 
 understanding that your board — " 
 
 "Monsieur," said Birotteau, amazed, and again in- 
 terrupting the lawyer, " I did not suppose it necessary 
 to employ, as it were, legal means to — " 
 
 " Mademoiselle Gamard, who is anxious to avoid 
 all dispute," said Monsieur Caron, " has sent me to 
 come to an understanding with you." 
 
 "Well, if 3'ou will have the goodness to return to- 
 morrow," said the abbe, u I shall then have taken 
 advice in the matter." 
 
 The quill-driver withdrew. The poor vicar, fright- 
 ened at the persistence with which Mademoiselle 
 Gamard pursued him, returned to the dining-room 
 with his face so convulsed that everybody cried out 
 when they saw him: "What is the matter, Monsieur 
 Birotteau ? " 
 
 The abbe, in despair, sat down without a word, so 
 crushed was he by the vague presence of approaching 
 disaster. But after breakfast, when his friends gath- 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 287 
 
 ered round him before a comfortable fire, Birotteau 
 naively related the history of his troubles. His hearers, 
 who were beginning to weary of the monoton}" of a 
 country-house, were keenly interested in a plot so 
 thoroughly in keeping with the life of the provinces. 
 They all took sides with the abbe" against the old 
 maid. 
 
 " Don't you see, my dear friend," said Madame de 
 Listomere, "that the Abbe Troubert wants your 
 apartment ? " 
 
 Here the historian ought to sketch this lady ; but it 
 occurs to him that even those who are ignorant of 
 Sterne's system of cognomology, cannot pronounce the 
 three words "Madame de Listomere" without pictur- 
 ing her to themselves as noble and dignified, softening 
 the sternness of rigid devotion b}' the gracious elegance 
 and the courteous manners of the old monarchical re- 
 gime ; kind, but a little stiff; slightly nasal in voice; 
 allowing herself the perusal of " La Nouvelle H£16ise ; " 
 and still wearing her own hair. 
 
 "The Abbe Birotteau must not yield to that old 
 vixen," cried Monsieur de Listomere, a lieutenant in 
 the navy who was spending a furlough with his aunt. 
 " If the vicar has pluck and will follow my suggestions 
 he will soon recover his tranquillity." 
 
 All present began to analyze the conduct of Made- 
 moiselle Gamard with the keen perceptions which 
 
288 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 characterize provincials, to whom no one can deny the 
 talent of knowing how to lay bare the most secret 
 motives of human actions. 
 
 "You don't see the whole thing yet," said an old 
 landowner who knew the region well. " There is 
 something serious behind all this which I can't yet 
 make out. The Abbe* Troubert is too deep to be 
 fathomed at once. Our dear Birotteau is at the be- 
 ginning of his troubles. Besides, would he be left in 
 peace and comfort even if he did give up his lodging to 
 Troubert? I doubt it. If Caron came here to tell you 
 that 3 t ou intended to leave Mademoiselle Gamard," he 
 added, turning to the bewildered priest, " no doubt 
 Mademoiselle Gamard's intention is to turn you out. 
 Therefore you will have to go, whether you like it or 
 not. Her sort of people play a sure game, they risk 
 nothing." 
 
 This old gentleman, Monsieur de Bourbonne, could 
 sum up and estimate provincial ideas as correct^ as 
 Voltaire summarized the spirit of his times. He was 
 thin and tall, and chose to exhibit in the matter of 
 clothes the quiet indifference of a landowner whose 
 territorial value is quoted in the department. His face, 
 tanned by the Touraine sun, was less intellectual than 
 shrewd. Accustomed to weigh his words and measure 
 his actions, he concealed a profound vigilance behind a 
 misleading appearance of simplicit3- . A ver} T slight ob- 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 289 
 
 servation of him sufficed to show that, like a Norman 
 peasant, he invariably held the upper hand in business 
 matters. He was an authority on wine-making, the 
 leading science of Touraine. He had managed to ex- 
 tend the meadow lands of his domain by taking in a 
 part of the alluvial soil of the Loire without getting 
 into difficulties with the State. This clever proceeding 
 gave him the reputation of a man of talent. If Mon- 
 sieur de Bourbon ne's conversation pleased } T ou and you 
 were to ask who he was of a Tourainean, "Ho! a 
 sly old fox ! " would be the answer of those who 
 were envious of him — and they were many. In 
 Touraine, as in many of the provinces, jealousj r is the 
 root of language. 
 
 Monsieur de Bourbonne's remark occasioned a 
 momentary silence, during which the persons who 
 composed the little party seemed to be reflecting. 
 Meanwhile Mademoiselle Salomon de Villenoix was 
 announced. She came from Tours in the hope of 
 being useful to the poor abbe, and the news she 
 brought completely changed the aspect of the affair. 
 As she entered, every one except Monsieur de Bour- 
 bonne was urging Birotteau to hold his own against 
 Troubert and Gamard, under the auspices of the aris- 
 tocratic society of the place, which would certainly 
 stand by him. 
 
 " The vicar-general, to whom the appointments to 
 
 19 
 
290 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 office are entrusted, is very ill," said Mademoiselle 
 Salomon, 4 ' and the archbishop has delegated his 
 powers to the Abbe" Troubert provisionally. The can- 
 pajry will, of course, depend wholly upon him. Now 
 last evening, at Mademoiselle de la Blottiere's the 
 Abbe* Poirel talked about the annoyances which the 
 Abbe* Birotteau had inflicted on Mademoiselle Gamard, 
 as though he were trying to cast all the blame on our 
 good abbe\ ' The Abbe* Birotteau,' he said, S is a man 
 to whom the Abbe* Chapeloud was absolutely necessary, 
 and since the death of that venerable man, he has 
 shown ' — and then came suggestions, calumnies ! you 
 understand?" 
 
 4 'Troubert will be made vicar-general," said Mon- 
 sieur de Bourbonne, sententiously. 
 
 "Come!" cried Madame de Listomere, turning to 
 Birotteau, " which do you prefer, to be made a canon, 
 or continue to live with Mademoiselle Gamard ? " 
 
 1 ' To be a canon ! " cried the whole company. 
 
 " Well, then," resumed Madame de Listomere, "}-ou 
 must let the Abbe Troubert and Mademoiselle Gamard 
 have things their own way. By sending Caron here 
 they mean to let you know indirectly that if you consent 
 to leave the house j^ou shall be made canon, — one 
 good turn deserves another." 
 
 Every one present applauded Madame de Listomere's 
 sagacity, except her nephew the Baron de Listomere, 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 291 
 
 who remarked in a comic tone to Monsieur de Bour- 
 bonne, " I would like to have Been a fight between the 
 Gamard and the Birotteau." 
 
 But, unhappily for the vicar, forces were not equal 
 between these persons of the best society and the old 
 maid supported by the Abbe" Troubert. The time soon 
 came when the struggle developed openly, went on in- 
 creasing, and finally assumed immense proportions. By 
 the advice of Madame de Listomere and most of her 
 friends, who were now eagerly enlisted in a matter 
 which threw such excitement into their vapid provincial 
 lives, a servant was sent to bring back Monsieur Caron. 
 The lawyer returned with surprising celerity, which 
 alarmed no one but Monsieur de Bourbonne. 
 
 '* Let us postpone all decision until we are better 
 informed," was the advice of that Fabius in a dressing- 
 gown, whose prudent reflections revealed to him the 
 meaning of these moves on the Tourainean chess-board. 
 He tried to enlighten Birotteau on the dangers of his 
 position; but the wisdom of the old "sly-boots" did 
 not serve the passions of the moment, and he obtained 
 but little attention. 
 
 The conference between the lawyer and Birotteau 
 was short. The vicar came back quite terrified. 
 
 " He wants me to sign a paper stating my relinquish- 
 ment of domicile." 
 
 "That's formidable language!" said the naval 
 lieutenant. 
 
292 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 44 What does it mean? " asked Madame de Listomere. 
 
 44 Merely that the abbe" must declare in writing his 
 intention of leaving Mademoiselle Gamard's house," 
 said Monsieur de Bourbonne, taking a pinch of snuff. 
 
 44 Is that all?" said Madame de Listomere. 4i Then 
 sign it at once," she added, turning to Birotteau. 44 If 
 you positively decide to leave her house, there can be 
 no harm in declaring in writing that such is your will." 
 
 Birotteau 1 s will / 
 
 44 That is true," said Monsieur de Bourbonne, closing 
 his snuff-box with a gesture the significance of which it 
 is impossible to render, for it was a language in itself. 
 44 But writing is always dangerous," he added, putting 
 his snuff-box on the mantelpiece with an air and man- 
 ner that alarmed the vicar. 
 
 Birotteau was so bewildered by the upsetting of all 
 his ideas, by the rapidity of the events which found him 
 defenceless, by the ease with which his friends were 
 settling the most cherished matters of his solitary life, 
 that he remained silent and motionless as if moon- 
 struck, thinking of 'nothing, though listening and striv- 
 ing to understand the meaning of the rapid sentences 
 the assembled company addressed to him. He took the 
 paper Monsieur Caron had given him and read it, as if 
 he were giving his mind to the lawyer's document, but 
 the act was merely mechanical. He signed the paper, 
 by which he declared that he left Mademoiselle 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 293 
 
 Gamard's house of his own wish and will, and that he 
 had been fed and lodged while there according to the 
 terms originally agreed upon. When the vicar had 
 signed the document, Monsieur Caron took it and 
 asked where his client was to send the things left by 
 the abbe" in her house and belonging to him. Birotteau 
 replied that they could be sent to Madame de Listo- 
 mere's, — that lady making him a sign that she would 
 receive him, never doubting that he would soon be a 
 canon. Monsieur de Bourbonne asked to see the paper, 
 the deed of relinquishment, which the abbe" had just 
 signed. Monsieur Caron gave it to him. 
 
 " How is this? " he said to the vicar after reading it. 
 " It appears that written documents already exist be- 
 tween you and Mademoiselle Gamard. Where are 
 they ? and what do they stipulate ? " 
 
 " The deed is in my library," replied Birotteau. 
 
 11 Do you know the tenor of it?" said Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne to the lawyer. 
 
 " No, monsieur," said Caron, stretching out his hand 
 to regain the fatal document. 
 
 " Ha ! " thought the old man ; " you know, my good 
 friend, what that deed contains, but you are paid not 
 to tell us," and he returned the paper to the lawyer. 
 
 "Where can I put my things?" cried Birotteau; 
 11 my books, m}' beautiful book-shelves, and pictures, 
 my red furniture, and all my treasures ? " 
 
294 TJie Vicar of Tours. 
 
 The helpless despair of the poor man thus torn up as 
 it were by the roots was so artless, it showed so 
 plainly the puritj- of his ways and his ignorance of the 
 things of life, that Madame de Listomere and Made- 
 moiselle Salomon talked to him and consoled him in 
 the tone which mothers take when they promise a play- 
 thing to their children. 
 
 u Don't fret about such trifles," they said. " We will 
 find you some place less cold and dismal than Made- 
 moiselle Gamard's gloomy house. If we can't find 
 anything you like, one or other of us will take }'Ou to 
 live with us. Come, let 's play a game of backgammon. 
 To-morrow you can go and see the Abbe Troubert and 
 ask him to push your claims to the canonry, and you'll 
 see how cordially he will receive you." 
 
 Feeble folk are as easily reassured as they are fright- 
 ened. So the poor abbe\ dazzled at the prospect of 
 living with Madame de Listomere, forgot the destruc- 
 tion, now completed, of the happiness he had so long 
 desired, and so delightfully enjoyed. But at night 
 before going to sleep, the distress of a man to whom 
 the fuss of moving and the breaking up of all his habits 
 was like the end of the world, came upon him, and he 
 racked his brains to imagine how he could ever find 
 such a good place for his book-case as the gallery in 
 the old maid's house. Fancying he saw his books 
 scattered about, his furniture defaced, his regular life 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 295 
 
 turned topsy-turvy, he asked himself for the thousandth 
 time why the first year spent in Mademoiselle Gamard's 
 house had been so sweet, the second so cruel. His 
 troubles were a pit in which his reason floundered. 
 The canonry seemed to him small compensation for 
 so much misery, and he compared his life to a stocking 
 in which a single dropped stitch resulted in destroying 
 the whole fabric. Mademoiselle Salomon remained to 
 him. But alas, in losing his old illusions the poor 
 priest dared not trust in any later friendship. 
 
 In the citta dolente of spinsterhood we often meet, 
 especially in France, with women whose lives are 
 a sacrifice nobly and daily offered to noble senti- 
 ments. Some remain proudly faithful to a heart which 
 death tore from them ; martyrs of love, they learn the 
 secrets of womanhood only through their souls. Others 
 obey some family pride (which in our days, and to our 
 shame, decreases steadily) ; these devote themselves 
 to the welfare of a brother, or to orphan nephews ; 
 they are mothers while remaining virgins. Such old 
 maids attain to the highest heroism of their sex by 
 consecrating all feminine feelings to the help of sorrow. 
 They idealize womanhood by renouncing the rewards 
 of woman's destiny, accepting its pains. They live 
 surrounded b}' the splendor of their devotion, and men 
 respectfully bow the head before their faded features. 
 Mademoiselle de Sombreuil was neither wife nor maid ; 
 
296 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 she was and ever will be a living poem. Mademoiselle 
 Salomon de Villenoix belonged to the race of these 
 heroic beings. Her devotion was religiously sublime, 
 inasmuch as it won her no glory after being, for years, 
 a daily agony. Beautiful and young, she loved and was 
 beloved ; her lover lost his reason. For five years she 
 gave herself, with love's devotion, to the mere mechani- 
 cal well-being of that unhapp}* man, whose madness she 
 so penetrated that she never believed him mad. She 
 was simple in manner, frank in speech, and her pallid 
 face was not lacking in strength and character, though 
 its features were regular. She never spoke of the events 
 of her life. But at times a sudden quiver passed over 
 her as she listened to the story of some sad or dreadful 
 incident, thus betraying the emotions that great suffer- 
 ings had developed within her. She had come to live 
 at Tours after losing the companion of her life ; but she 
 was not appreciated there at her true value and was 
 thought to be merely an amiable woman. She did much 
 good, and attached herself, by preference, to feeble be- 
 ings. For that reason the poor vicar had naturally 
 inspired her with a deep interest. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Villenoix, who returned to Tours 
 the next morning, took Birotteau with her and set 
 him down on the quay of the cathedral leaving him to 
 make his own way to the Cloister, where he was bent on 
 going, to save at least the canonry and to superintend 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 297 
 
 the removal of his furniture. He rang, not without 
 violent palpitations of the heart, at the door of the 
 house whither, for fourteen years, he had come dairy, 
 and where he had lived blissfully, and from which he 
 was now exiled forever, after dreaming that he should 
 die there in peace like his friend Chapeloud. Marianne 
 was surprised at the vicar's visit. He told her that he 
 had come to see the Abbe Troubert, and turned towards 
 the ground-floor apartment where the canon lived ; but 
 Marianne called to him : — 
 
 " Not there, monsieur le vicaire ; the Abbe* Troubert 
 is in your old apartment." 
 
 These words gave the vicar a frightful shock. He 
 was forced to comprehend both Troubert's character 
 and the depths of the revenge so slowly brought about 
 when he found the canon settled in Chapeloud's libraiy, 
 seated in Chapeloud's handsome armchair, sleeping, no 
 doubt, in Chapeloud's bed, and disinheriting at last the 
 friend of Chapeloud, the man who, for so many j^ears, 
 had confined him to Mademoiselle Gamard's house, by 
 preventing his advancement in the church, and closing 
 the best salons in Tours against him. By what magic 
 wand had the present transformation taken place? 
 Surely these things belonged to Birotteau? And yet, 
 observing the sardonic air with which Troubert glanced 
 at that bookcase, the poor abbe* knew that the future 
 vicar-general felt certain of possessing the spoils of those 
 
298 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 he had so bitterly hated, — Chapeloud as an enemy, and 
 Birotteau, in and through whom Chapeloud still thwarted 
 him. Ideas arose in the heart of the poor man at the 
 sight, and plunged him into a sort of vision. He stood 
 motionless, as though fascinated by Troubert's eyes 
 which fixed themselves upon him. 
 
 "I do not suppose, monsieur," said Birotteau at 
 last, " that you intend to deprive me of the things that 
 belong to me. Mademoiselle may have been impatient 
 to give you better lodgings, but she ought to have been 
 sufficiently just to leave me time to pack my books and 
 remove my furniture." 
 
 " Monsieur," said the Abb6 Troubert, coldly, not 
 permitting an} 7 sign of emotion to appear on his face, 
 " Mademoiselle Gamard told me yesterday of your de- 
 parture, the cause of which is still unknown to me. If 
 she installed me here at once, it was from necessity. 
 The Abbe* Poirel has taken my apartment. I do not 
 know if the furniture and things that are in these rooms 
 belong to you or to Mademoiselle ; but if they are 
 yours, you know her scrupulous honesty ; the sanctity 
 of her life is the guarantee of her rectitude. As for me, 
 you are well aware of my simple modes of living. I 
 have slept for fifteen years in a bare room without com- 
 plaining of the dampness, — which, eventually, will have 
 caused my death. Nevertheless, if you wish to return 
 to this apartment I will cede it to you willingly." 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 299 
 
 After hearing these terrible words, Birotteau forgot 
 the canonry and ran downstairs as quickly as a 3'Oung 
 man to find Mademoiselle Gamard. He met her at the 
 foot of the staircase, on the broad, tiled landing which 
 united the two wings of the house. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, bowing to her without 
 paying any attention to the bitter and derisive smile 
 that was on her lips, nor to the extraordinary flame in 
 her eyes which made them lucent as a tiger's, ' i I can- 
 not understand how it is that you have not waited until 
 I removed my furniture before — " 
 
 "What!" she said, interrupting him, "is it pos- 
 sible that your things have not been left at Madame de 
 Listomere's ? " 
 
 "But my furniture?" 
 
 " Have n't you read your deed?" said the old maid, 
 in a tone which would have to be rendered in music 
 before the shades of meaning that hatred is able to put 
 into the accent of every word could be fully shown. 
 
 Mademoiselle Gamard seemed to rise in stature, her 
 eyes shone, her face expanded, her whole person 
 quivered with pleasure. The Abbe* Troubert opened a 
 window to get a better light on the folio volume he was 
 reading. Birotteau stood as if a thunderbolt had 
 stricken him. Mademoiselle Gamard made his ears 
 hum when she enunciated in a voice as clear as a 
 cornet the following sentence : — 
 
300 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 " Was it not agreed that if you left my house your 
 furniture should belong to me, to indemnify me for the 
 difference in the price of board paid by you and that 
 paid by the late venerable Abbe* Chapeloud ? Now, as 
 the Abbe* Poirel has just been appointed canon — " 
 
 Hearing the last words Birotteau made a feeble bow 
 as if to take leave of the old maid, and left the house 
 precipitately. He was afraid if he stayed longer that 
 he should break down utterly, and give too great a 
 triumph to his implacable enemies. "Walking like a 
 drunken man he at last reached Madame de Listomere's 
 house, where he found in one of the lower rooms his 
 linen, his clothing, and all his papers packed in a 
 trunk. When his eyes fell on these few remnants of 
 his possessions the unhappy priest sat down and hid 
 his face in his hands to conceal his tears from the 
 sight of others. The Abbe* Poirel was canon ! He, 
 Birotteau, had neither home, nor means, nor furniture ! 
 
 Fortunately Mademoiselle Salomon happened to 
 drive past the house, and the porter, who saw and 
 comprehended the despair of the poor abbe\ made a 
 sign to the coachman. After exchanging a few words 
 with Mademoiselle Salomon the porter persuaded the 
 vicar to let himself be placed, half dead as he was, in 
 the carriage of his faithful friend, to whom he was 
 unable to speak connectedly. Mademoiselle Salomon, 
 alarmed at the momentary derangement of a head that 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 301 
 
 was always feeble, took hitn back at once to the 
 Alouette, believing that this beginning of mental 
 alienation was an effect produced by the sudden news 
 of Abbe* Poirel's nomination. She knew nothing, of 
 course, of the fatal agreement made by the abbe* with 
 Mademoiselle Gamard, for the excellent reason that he 
 did not know of it himself; and because it is in the 
 nature of things that the comical is often mingled 
 with the pathetic, the singular replies of the poor abbe 
 made her smile. 
 
 " Chapeloud was right," he said ; " he is a monster ! " 
 
 "Who?" she asked. 
 
 " Chapeloud. He has taken all.** 
 
 " You mean Poirel? " 
 
 " No, Troubert" 
 
 At last the}' reached the Alouette, where the priest's 
 friends gave him such tender care that towards even- 
 ing he grew calmer and was able to give them an 
 account of what had happened during the morning. 
 
 The phlegmatic old fox asked to see the deed which, 
 on thinking the matter over, seemed to him to contain 
 the solution of the enigma. Birotteau drew the fatal 
 stamped paper from his pocket and gave it to Monsieur 
 de Bourbonne, who read it rapidlj- and soon came upon 
 the following clause : — 
 
 11 Whereas a difference exists of eight hundred francs 
 yearly between the price of board paid by the late Abbe 
 
302 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 Chapeloud and that at which the said Sophie Gamard 
 agrees to take into her house, on the above-named 
 stipulated conditions, the said Francois Birotteau ; 
 and whereas it is understood that the undersigned 
 Francois Birotteau is not able for some years to pay 
 the full price charged to the other boarders of Ma- 
 demoiselle Gamard, more especially the Abbe Trou- 
 bert ; the said Birotteau does hereby engage, in con- 
 sideration of certain sums of money advanced by the 
 undersigned Sophie Gamard, to leave her, as indem- 
 nity, all the household property of which he may die 
 possessed, or to transfer the same to her should he, 
 for any reason whatever or at any time, voluntarily 
 give up the apartment now leased to him, and thus 
 derive no further profit from the above-named engage- 
 ments made by Mademoiselle Gamard for his benefit — " 
 
 " Confound her ! what an agreement ! " cried the old 
 gentleman. "The said Sophie Gamard is armed with 
 claws." 
 
 Poor Birotteau never imagined in his childish brain 
 that anything could ever separate him from that house 
 where he expected to live and die with Mademoiselle 
 Gamard. He had no remembrance whatever of that 
 clause, the terms of which he had not discussed, for 
 they had seemed quite just to him at a time when, in 
 his great anxiety to enter the old maid's house, he 
 would readily have signed any and all legal documents 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 303 
 
 she had offered him. His simplicity was so guileless 
 and Mademoiselle Gamard's conduct so atrocious, the 
 fate of the poor old man seemed so deplorable, and 
 his natural helplessness made him so touching, that in 
 the first glow of her indignation Madame de Listomere 
 exclaimed: "I made you put your signature to that 
 document which has ruined you ; I am bound to give 
 you back the happiness of which I have deprived 
 you." 
 
 44 But," remarked Monsieur de Bourbonne, " that 
 deed constitutes a fraud ; there may be ground for a 
 lawsuit." 
 
 "Then Birotteau shall go to law. If he loses at 
 Tours he may win at Orleans ; if he- loses at Orleans, 
 he '11 win in Paris," cried the Baron de Listomere. 
 
 H But if he does go to law," continued Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne, coldly, M I should advise him to resign his 
 vicariat." 
 
 " We will consult law3'ers," said Madame de Listo- 
 mere, " and go to law if law is best. But this affair is 
 so disgraceful for Mademoiselle Gamard, and is likely 
 to be so injurious to the Abbe* Troubert, that I think 
 we can compromise." 
 
 After mature deliberation all present promised their 
 assistance to the Abbe Birotteau in the struggle which 
 was now inevitable between the poor priest and his 
 antagonists and all their adherents. A true presenti- 
 
304 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 ment, an indefinable provincial instinct, led them to 
 couple the names of Gamard and Troubert. But none 
 of the persons assembled on this occasion in Madame 
 de Listomere's salon, except the old fox, had any real 
 idea of the nature and importance of such a struggle. 
 Monsieur de Bourbonne took the poor abbe aside into 
 a corner of the room. 
 
 " Of the fourteen persons now present," he said, in 
 a low voice, '* not one will stand by j T ou a fortnight 
 hence. If the time comes when you need some one to 
 support you you may find that I am the only person 
 in Tours bold enough to take up your defence ; for I 
 know the provinces and men and things, and, better 
 still, I know self-interests. But these friends of yours, 
 though full of the best intentions, are leading you 
 astray into a bad path, from which you won't be able 
 to extricate yourself. Take my advice ; if you want 
 to live in peace, resign the vicariat of Saint-Gatien and 
 leave Tours. Don't say where you are going, but find 
 some distant parish where Troubert cannot get hold 
 of you." 
 
 " Leave Tours ! " exclaimed the vicar, with indescrib- 
 able terror. 
 
 To him it was a kind of death ; the tearing up of 
 all the roots by which he held to life. Celibates sub- 
 stitute habits for feelings ; and when to that moral sys- 
 tem, which makes them pass through life instead of really 
 
The Vicar of Tours. " 305 
 
 living, is added a feeble character, external things as- 
 sume an extraordinary power over them. Birotteau was 
 like certain vegetables ; transplant them, and you stop 
 their ripening. Just as a tree needs daily the same sus- 
 tenance, and must always send its roots into the same 
 soil, so Birotteau needed to trot about Saint-Gatien, 
 and amble along the Mail where he took his daily 
 walk, and saunter through the streets, and visit the 
 three salons where, night after night, he played his 
 whist or his backgammon. 
 
 " Ah ! I did not think of it! " replied Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne, gazing at the priest with a sort of pity. 
 
 All Tours was soon aware that Madame la Baronne 
 de Listomere, widow of a lieutenant-general, had in- 
 vited the Abbe" Birotteau, vicar of Saint-Gatien, to stay 
 at her house. That act, which many persons ques- 
 tioned, presented the matter sharply and divided the 
 town into parties, especially after Mademoiselle Salo- 
 mon spoke openly of fraud and a lawsuit. With the 
 subtle vanity which is common to old maids, and the 
 fanatic self-love which characterizes them, Mademoiselle 
 Gamard was deeply wounded by the course taken by 
 Madame de Listomere. The baroness was a woman 
 of high rank, elegant in her habits and ways, whose 
 good taste, courteous manners, and true piety could 
 not be gainsaid. By receiving Birotteau as her guest 
 she gave a formal denial to all Mademoiselle Gamard's 
 20 
 
306 • The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 assertions, and indirectly censured her conduct by main- 
 taining the vicar's cause against his former landlady. 
 
 It is necessary for the full understanding of this his- 
 tory to explain how the natural discernment and spirit 
 of analysis which old women bring to bear on the 
 actions of others gave power to Mademoiselle Gamard, 
 and what were the resources on her side. Accom- 
 panied by the taciturn Abb6 Troubert she made a 
 round of evening visits to five or six houses, at each 
 of which she met a circle of a dozen or more persons, 
 united by kindred tastes and the same general situation 
 in life. Among them were one or two men who were 
 influenced by the gossip and prejudices of their ser- 
 vants ; five or six old maids who spent their time in 
 sifting the words and scrutinizing the actions of their 
 neighbors and others in the class below them ; besides 
 these, there were several old women who busied them- 
 selves in retailing scandal, keeping an exact account of 
 each person's fortune, striving to control or influence 
 the actions of others, prognosticating marriages, and 
 blaming the conduct of friends as sharply as that of 
 enemies. These persons, spread about the town like 
 the capillary fibres of a plant, sucked in, with the thirst 
 of a leaf for the dew, the news and the secrets of each 
 household, and transmitted them mechanically to the 
 Abbe" Troubert, as the leaves convey to the branch the 
 moisture they absorb. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 307 
 
 Accordingly, during every evening of the week, 
 these good devotees, excited by that need of emotion 
 which exists in all of us, rendered an exact account of 
 the current condition of the town with a sagacity 
 worthy of the Council of Ten, and were, in fact, a 
 species of police, armed with the unerring gift of spy- 
 ing bestowed by passions. When they had divined 
 the secret meaning of some event their vanity led them 
 to appropriate to themselves the wisdom of their san- 
 hedrim, and set the tone to the gossip of their respec- 
 tive spheres. This idle but ever busy fraternity, 
 invisible, yet seeing all things, dumb, but perpetually 
 talking, possessed an influence which its nonentity 
 seemed to render harmless, though it was in fact ter- 
 rible in its effects when it concerned itself with serious 
 interests. For a long time nothing had entered the 
 sphere of these existences so serious and so momen- 
 tous to each one of them as the struggle of Birotteau, 
 supported by Madame de Listomere, against Made- 
 moiselle Gamard and the Abbe Troubert. The three 
 salons of Madame de Listomere and the Demoiselles 
 Merlin de la Blottiere and de Villenoix being consid- 
 ered as enemies by all the salons which Mademoiselle 
 Gamard frequented, there was at the bottom of the 
 quarrel a class sentiment with all its jealousies. It 
 was the old Roman struggle of people and senate in a 
 molehill, a tempest in a teacup, as Montesquieu re- 
 
308 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 marked when speaking of the Republic of San Marino, 
 whose public offices are filled by the day only, — des- 
 potic power being easily seized by any citizen. 
 
 But this tempest, petty as it seems, did develop in 
 the souls of these persons as many passions as would 
 have been called forth by the highest social interests. 
 It is a mistake to think that none but souls concerned 
 In might} r projects, which stir their lives and set them 
 foaming, find time too fleeting. The hours of the Abbe* 
 Troubert fled by as eagerty, laden with thoughts as 
 anxious, harassed by despairs and hopes as deep as 
 the cruellest hours of the gambler, the lover, or the 
 statesman. God alone is in the secret of the energy 
 we expend upon our occult triumphs over man, over 
 things, over ourselves. Though we know not always 
 whither we are going we know well what the journey 
 costs us. If it be permissible for the historian to turn 
 aside for a moment from the drama he is narrating 
 and ask his readers to cast a glance upon the lives of 
 these old maids and abb6s, and seek the cause of the 
 evil which vitiates them at their source, we may find it 
 demonstrated that man must experience certain pas- 
 sions before he can develop within him those virtues 
 which give grandeur to life by widening his sphere and 
 checking the selfishness which is inherent in every 
 created being. 
 
 Madame de Listomere returned to town without 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 309 
 
 being aware that for the previous week her friends had 
 felt obliged to refute a rumor (at which she would 
 have laughed had she known of it) that her affection 
 for her nephew had an almost criminal motive. She 
 took Birotteau to her lawyer, who did not regard the 
 case as an eas} T one. The vicar's friends, inspired by 
 the belief that justice was certain in so good a cause, 
 or inclined to procrastinate in a matter whioh did not 
 concern them personally, had put off bringing the suit 
 until they returned to Tours. Consequently the friends 
 of Mademoiselle Gamard had taken the initiative, and 
 told the affair wherever they could to the injury of Bi- 
 rotteau. The lawyer, whose practice was exclusively 
 among the most devout church people, amazed Madame 
 de Listomere b} T advising her not to embark on such a 
 suit; he ended the consultation by saying that "he 
 himself would not undertake it, for, according to the 
 terms of the deed, Mademoiselle Gamard had the law 
 on her side, and in equity, that is to say outside of 
 strict legal justice, the Abbe" Birotteau would un- 
 doubtedly seem to the judges as well as to all respect- 
 able laymen to have derogated from the peaceable, 
 conciliatory, and mild character hitherto attributed to 
 him ; that Mademoiselle Gamard, known to be a kindly 
 woman and easy to live with, had put Birotteau under 
 obligations to her by lending him the money he needed 
 to pay the legacy duties on Chapeloud's bequest with- 
 
310 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 out taking from him a receipt ; that Birotteau was not 
 of an age or character to sign a deed without knowing 
 what it contained or understanding the importance of 
 it ; that in leaving Mademoiselle Gamard's house at the 
 end of two years, when his friend Chapeloud had lived 
 there twelve and Troubert fifteen, he must have had 
 some purpose known to himself only ; and that the 
 lawsuit, if undertaken, would strike the public mind as 
 an act of ingratitude ; " and so forth. Letting Birotteau 
 go before them to the staircase, the lawyer detained 
 Madame de Listomere a moment to entreat her, if she 
 valued her own piece of mind, not to involve herself in 
 the matter. 
 
 But that evening the poor vicar, suffering the tor- 
 ments of a man under sentence of death who awaits in 
 the condemned cell at Bicetre the result of his appeal 
 for merc} r , could not refrain from telling his assembled 
 friends the result of his visit to the lawyer. 
 
 "I don't know a single pettifogger in Tours," said 
 Monsieur de Bourbonne, " except that Radical law- 
 yer, who would be willing to take the case, — unless 
 for the purpose of losing it; I don't advise you to 
 undertake it." 
 
 " Then it is infamous ! n cried the naval lieutenant. 
 " I myself will take the abbe" to the Radical — " 
 
 " Go at night," said Monsieur de Bourbonne, inter- 
 rupting him. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 311 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I have just learned that the Abbe* Troubert is ap- 
 pointed vicar-general in place of the other man, who 
 died yesterday." 
 
 " I don't care a fig for the Abbe" Troubert." 
 
 Unfortunately the Baron de Listomere (a man thirty- 
 six years of age) did not see the sign Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne made him to be cautious in what he said, 
 motioning as he did so to a friend of Troubert, a 
 councillor of the Prefecture, who was present. The 
 lieutenant therefore continued : — 
 
 " If the Abbe Troubert is a scoundrel — " 
 
 " Oh," said Monsieur de Bourbonne, cutting him 
 short, " wiry bring Monsieur Troubert into a matter 
 which does n't concern him ? " 
 
 " Not concern him?" cried the baron; "isn't he 
 enjoying the use of the Abbe Birotteau's household 
 property ? I remember that when I called on the Abbe" 
 Chapeloud I noticed two valuable pictures. Saj' that 
 they are worth ten thousand francs ; do jou suppose 
 that Monsieur Birotteau meant to give ten thousand 
 francs for living two }'ears with that Gamard woman, — 
 not to speak of the library and furniture, which are 
 worth as much more ? " 
 
 The Abb6 Birotteau opened his eyes at hearing he 
 had once possessed so enormous a fortune. 
 
 The baron, getting warmer than ever, went on to 
 
312 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 say: "By Jove! there's that Monsieur Salmon, 
 formerly an expert at the Museum in Paris ; he is down 
 here on a visit to his mother-in-law. I '11 go and see 
 him this very evening with the Abbe* Birotteau and ask 
 him to look at those pictures and estimate their value. 
 From there I '11 take the abbe* to the lawyer." 
 
 Two days after this conversation the suit was begun. 
 This employment of the Liberal lawyer did harm to the 
 vicar's cause. Those who were opposed to the govern- 
 ment, and all who were known to dislike the priests, or 
 religion (two things quite distinct which many persons 
 confound), got hold of the affair and the whole town 
 talked of it. The Museum expert estimated the Virgin 
 of Valentin and the Christ of Lebrun, two paintings of 
 great beauty, at eleven thousand francs. As to the 
 bookshelves and the gothic furniture, the taste for such 
 things was increasing so rapidly in Paris that their 
 immediate value was at least twelve thousand. In 
 short, the appraisal of the whole property by the expert 
 reached the sum of over thirty-six thousand francs. 
 Now it was very evident that Birotteau never intended 
 to give Mademoiselle Gamard such an enormous sum 
 of money for the small amount he might owe her under 
 the terms of the deed ; therefore he had, legally 
 speaking, equitable grounds on which to demand an 
 amendment of the agreement ; if this were denied, 
 Mademoiselle Gamard was plainly guilt}' of intentional 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 313 
 
 fraud. The Radical lawyer accordingly began the 
 affair by serving a writ on Mademoiselle Gamard. 
 Though very harsh in language, this document, strength- 
 ened by citations of precedents and supported by 
 certain clauses in the Code, was a masterpiece of legal 
 argument, and so evidently just in its condemnation of 
 the old maid that thirty or forty copies were made and 
 maliciously distributed through the town. 
 
314 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A few days after this commencement of hostilities 
 between Birotteau and the old maid, the Baron de 
 Listomere, who expected to be included as captain of 
 a corvette in a coming promotion lately announced by 
 the minister of the Navy, received a letter from one 
 of his friends warning him that there was some inten- 
 tion of putting him on the retired list. Greatly aston- 
 ished by this information he started for Paris immedi- 
 ately, and went at once to the minister, who seemed 
 to be amazed himself, and even laughed at the baron's 
 fears. The next da} T , however, in spite of the min- 
 ister's assurance, Monsieur de Listomere made in- 
 quiries in the different offices. By an indiscretion 
 (often practised by heads of departments in favor of 
 their friends) one of the secretaries showed him a 
 document confirming the fatal news, which was only 
 waiting the signature of the director, who was ill, to be 
 submitted to the minister. 
 
 The Baron de Listomere went immediately to an 
 uncle of his, a deputy, who could see the minister of 
 the Navy at the Chamber without loss of time, and 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 315 
 
 begged him to find out the real intentions of his Ex- 
 cellency in a matter which threatened the loss of his 
 whole future. He waited in his uncle's carriage with 
 the utmost anxiety for the end of the session. His 
 uncle came out before the Chamber rose, and said to 
 him at once as they drove awa}' : " Wh} T the devil 
 have jou. meddled in a priest's quarrel? The min- 
 ister began by telling me you had put yourself at the 
 head of the Radicals in Tours ; that your political 
 opinions were objectionable ; you were not following 
 in the lines of the government, — with other remarks 
 as much involved as if he were addressing the Chamber. 
 On that I said to him, ' Nonsense ; let us come to the 
 point.' The end was that his Excellency told me 
 frankly you were in bad odor with the diocese. In 
 short, I made a few inquiries among my colleagues, 
 and I find that you have been talking slightingly of a 
 certain Abbe" Troubert, the vicar-general, but a very 
 important personage in the province, where he repre- 
 sents the Jesuits. I have made m} r self responsible to 
 the minister for your future conduct. My good nephew, 
 if you want to make your way be careful not to excite 
 ecclesiastical enmities. Go at once to Tours and try 
 to make your peace with that devil of a vicar-general ; 
 remember that such priests are men with whom we 
 absolutely must live in harmony. Good heavens ! 
 when we are all striving and working to re-establish 
 
316 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 religion it is actually stupid, in a lieutenant who wants 
 to be made a captain, to affront the priests. If you 
 don't make up matters with that Abbe" Troubert you 
 need n't count on me ; I shall abandon you. The 
 minister of ecclesiastical affairs told me just now that 
 Troubert was certain to be made bishop before long ; 
 if he takes a dislike to our family he could hinder me 
 from being included in the next batch of peers. Don't 
 you understand? " 
 
 These words explained to the naval officer the nature 
 of Troubert's secret occupations, about which Birot- 
 teau often remarked in his silly way: "I can't think 
 what he does with himself, — sitting up all night." 
 
 The canon's position in the midst of his female senate, 
 converted so adroitly into provincial detectives, and 
 his personal capacity, had induced the Congregation of 
 Jesus to select him out of all the ecclesiastics in the 
 town, as the secret proconsul of Touraine. Arch- 
 bishop, general, prefect, all men, great and small, were 
 under his occult dominion. The Baron de Listomere 
 decided at once on his course. 
 
 " I shall take care," he said to his uncle, " not to get 
 another round shot below my water-line. ,, 
 
 Three days after this diplomatic conference between 
 the uncle and nephew, the latter, returning hurriedly in 
 a post-chaise, informed his aunt, the very night of his 
 arrival, of the dangers the family were running if they 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 317 
 
 persisted in supporting that "fool of a Birotteau." 
 The baron had detained Monsieur de Bourbonne as 
 the old gentleman was taking his hat and cane after 
 the usual rubber of whist. The clear-sightedness of 
 that sly old fox seemed indispensable for an under- 
 standing of the reefs among which the Listomere family 
 suddenly found themselves ; and perhaps the action of 
 taking his hat and cane was only a ruse to have it 
 whispered in his ear : " Stay after the others ; we want 
 to talk to you." 
 
 The baron's sudden return, his apparent satisfaction, 
 which was quite out of keeping with a harassed look 
 that occasionally crossed his face, informed Monsieur 
 de Bourbonne vaguely that the lieutenant had met 
 with some check in his crusade against Gamard and 
 Troubert. He showed no surprise when the baron 
 revealed the secret power of the Jesuit vicar-general. 
 
 " I knew that," he said. 
 
 u Then why," cried the baroness, " did you not warn 
 us?" 
 
 "Madame," he said, sharply, "forget that I was 
 aware of the invisible influence of that priest, and I 
 will forget that j'ou knew it equally well. If we do not 
 keep this secret now we shall be thought his accom- 
 plices, and shall be more feared and hated than we are. 
 Do as I do ; pretend to be duped ; but look carefully 
 where you set your feet. I did warn you sufficiently, 
 
318 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 but you would not understand me, and I did not choose 
 to compromise my self. " 
 
 " What must we do now?" said the baron. 
 
 The abandonment of Birotteau was not even made 
 a question ; it was a first condition tacitly accepted 
 by the three deliberators. 
 
 "To beat a retreat with the honors of war has al- 
 ways been the triumph of the ablest generals," replied 
 Monsieur de Bourbonne. "Bow to Troubert, and if 
 his hatred is less strong than his vanity you will make 
 him your ally ; but if you bow too low he will walk over 
 you rough-shod ; make believe that you intend to leave 
 the service, and 3'ou'll escape him, Monsieur le baron. 
 Send away Birotteau, madame, and you will set things 
 right with Mademoiselle Gamard. Ask the Abbe 
 Troubert, when you meet him at the archbishop's, if he 
 can play whist. He will say yes. Then invite him to 
 your salon, where he wants to be received ; he '11 be 
 sure to come. You are a woman, and you can cer- 
 tainly win a priest to your interests. When the baron 
 is promoted, his uncle peer of France, and Troubert a 
 bishop, you can make Birotteau a canon if you choose. 
 Meantime yield, — but yield gracefully, all the while 
 with a slight menace. Your family can give Troubert 
 quite as much support as he can give you. You'll 
 understand each other perfectly on that score. As for 
 you, sailor, carry your deep-sea line about you." 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 319 
 
 " Poor Birotteau? " said the baroness. 
 
 t4 Oh, get rid of hiin at once," replied the old man, 
 as he rose to take leave. " If some clever Radical lays 
 hold of that empty head of his, he mav cause you much 
 trouble. After all, the court would certainly give a 
 verdict in his favor, and Troubert must fear that. He 
 may forgive you for beginning the struggle, but if they 
 were defeated he would be implacable. I have said 
 my say." 
 
 He snapped his snuff-box, put on his overshoes, and 
 departed. 
 
 The next day after breakfast the baroness took 
 the vicar aside and said to him, not without visible 
 embarrassment : — 
 
 "My dear Monsieur Birotteau, you will think what 
 I am about to ask of you very unjust and very incon- 
 sistent ; but it is necessarj-, both for you and for us, 
 that your lawsuit with Mademoiselle Gamard be with- 
 drawn by resigning your claims, and also that you 
 should leave my house." 
 
 As he heard these words the poor abbe turned pale. 
 
 " I am," she continued, " the innocent cause of your 
 misfortunes, and, moreover, if it had not been for my 
 nephew you would never have begun this lawsuit, which 
 has now turned to your injury and to ours. But listen 
 to me." 
 
 She told him succinctly the immense ramifications of 
 
320 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 the affair, and explained the serious nature of its con- 
 sequences. Her own meditations during the night had 
 told her something of the probable antecedents of 
 Troubert's life ; she was able, without misleading 
 Birotteau, to show him the net so ably woven round 
 him by revenge, and to make him see the power and 
 great capacity of his enem}", whose hatred to Chape- 
 loud, under whom he had been forced to crouch for a 
 dozen years, now found vent in seizing Chapeloud's 
 property and in persecuting Chapeloud in the person 
 of his friend. The harmless Birotteau clasped his 
 hands as if to pray, and wept with distress at the sight 
 of human horrors that his own pure soul was incapable 
 of suspecting. As frightened as though he had sud- 
 denly found himself at the edge of a precipice, he 
 listened, with fixed, moist eyes in which there was no 
 expression, to the revelations of his friend, who ended 
 by saying : " I know the wrong I do in abandoning 
 your cause ; but, my dear abbe\ family duties must be 
 considered before those of friendship. Yield, as I do, 
 to this storm, and I will prove to you my gratitude. 
 I am not talking of your worldly interests, for those 
 I take charge of. You shall be made free of all such 
 anxieties for the rest of your life. By means of Mon- 
 sieur de Bourbonne, who will know how to save ap- 
 pearances, I shall arrange matters so that you shall 
 lack nothing. My friend, grant me the right to aban- 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 321 
 
 don you. I shall ever be your friend, though forced to 
 conform to the axioms of the world. You must 
 decide." 
 
 The poor, bewildered abbe" cried out: " Chapeloud 
 was right when he said that if Troubert could drag him 
 by the feet out of his grave he would do it! He 
 sleeps in Chapeloud's bed ! " 
 
 "There is no use in lamenting," said Madame de 
 Listomere, "and we have little time now left to us. 
 How will you decide ? " 
 
 Birotteau was too good and kind not to obey in a 
 great crisis the unreflecting impulse of the moment. 
 Besides, his life was alread3' in the agony of what to 
 him was death. He said, with a despairing look at 
 his protectress which cut her to the heart, " I trust 
 myself to j'ou — I am but the stubble of the streets." 
 
 He used the Tourainean word bourrier which has no 
 other meaning than a bit of straw. But there are 
 pretty little straws, yellow, polished, and shining, the 
 delight of children, whereas the bourrier is straw dis- 
 colored, muddy, sodden in the puddles, whirled by the 
 tempest, crushed under feet of men. 
 
 " But, madame, I cannot let the Abbe 1 Troubert keep 
 Chapeloud's portrait. It was painted for me, it belongs 
 to me ; obtain that for me, and I will give up all the 
 rest." 
 
 " Well," said Madame de Listomere. " I will go 
 21 
 
322 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 myself to Mademoiselle Gamard." The words were 
 said in a tone which plainly showed the immense effort 
 the Baronne de Listomere was making in lowering 
 herself to flatter the pride of the old maid. " I will 
 see what can be done," she said ; " I hardly dare hope 
 anything. Go and consult Monsieur de Bourbonne ; 
 ask him to put your renunciation into proper form, and 
 bring me the paper. I will see the archbishop, and with 
 his help we may be able to stop the matter here." 
 
 Birotteau left the house dismayed. Troubert as- 
 sumed in his eyes the dimensions of an Egyptian 
 pyramid. The hands of that man were in Paris, his 
 elbows in the Cloister of Saint-Gatien. 
 
 " He ! " said the victim to himself, " he to prevent the 
 Baron de Listomere from becoming peer of France ! — 
 and, perhaps, by the help of the archbishop we may be 
 able to stop the matter here ! " 
 
 In presence of such great interests Birotteau felt he 
 was a mere worm ; he judged himself rightly. 
 
 The news of Birotteau's removal from Madame de 
 Listomere' s house seemed all the more amazing because 
 the reason of it was wholty impenetrable. Madame de 
 Listomere said that her nephew was intending to marry 
 and leave the navy, and she wanted the vicar's apart- 
 ment to enlarge her own. Birotteau's relinquishment 
 was still unknown. The advice of Monsieur de Bour- 
 bonne was followed. Whenever the two facts reached 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 323 
 
 the ears of the vicar-general his self-love was certain to 
 be gratified by the assurance they gave that even if the 
 Listomere family did not capitulate they would at least 
 remain neutral and tacitly recognize the occult power 
 of the Congregation, — to recognize it was, in fact, to 
 submit to it. But the lawsuit was still sabjudice; his 
 opponents yielded and threatened at the same time. 
 
 The Listomeres had thus taken precisely the same 
 attitude as the vicar-general himself ; the}- held them- 
 selves aloof, and yet were able to direct others. But 
 just at this crisis an event occurred which complicated 
 the plans laid by Monsieur de Bourbonne and the 
 Listomeres to quiet the Gamard and Troubert party, 
 and made them more difficult to cany out. 
 
 Mademoiselle Gamard took cold one evening in 
 coming out of the cathedral ; the next da} r she was con- 
 fined to her bed, and soon after became dangerously 
 ill. The whole town rang with pity and false commis- 
 eration : "Mademoiselle Gamard's sensitive nature 
 had not been able to bear the scandal of this lawsuit. 
 In spite of the justice of her cause she was likely to die 
 of grief. Birotteau had killed his benefactress." 
 Such were the speeches poured through the capillary 
 tubes of the great female conclave, and taken up and 
 repeated by the whole town of Tours. 
 
 Madame de Listomere went the day after Mademoi- 
 selle Gamard took cold to pay the promised visit, and 
 
324 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 she had the mortification of that act without obtaining 
 any benefit from it, for the old maid was too ill to see her. 
 She then asked politely to speak to the vicar-general. 
 
 Gratified, no doubt, to receive in Chapeloud's library, 
 at the corner of the fireplace above which hung the 
 two contested pictures, the woman who had hitherto 
 ignored him, Troubert kept the baroness waiting for a 
 moment before he consented to admit her. No courtier 
 and no diplomatist ever put into a discussion of their 
 personal interests or into the management of some 
 great national negotiation more shrewdness, dissimu- 
 lation, and ability than the baroness and the priest dis- 
 played when they met face to face for the struggle. 
 
 Like the seconds or sponsors who in the Middle Ages 
 armed the champion, and strengthened his valor by 
 useful counsel until he entered the lists, so the sly old 
 fox had said to the baroness at the last moment : 
 " Don't forget your cue. You are a mediator, and not 
 an interested party. Troubert also is a mediator. 
 Weigh your words ; study the inflections of the man's 
 voice. If he strokes his chin you have got him." 
 
 Some sketchers are fond oi* caricaturing the contrast 
 often observable between what is said and what is 
 thought by the speaker. To catch the full meaning of 
 the duel of words which now took place between the 
 priest and the great lady, it is necessary to unveil the 
 thoughts that each hid from the other under spoken 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 325 
 
 sentences of apparent insignificance. Madame de 
 Listomere began by expressing the regret she had felt 
 at Birotteau's lawsuit ; and then went on to speak of 
 her desire to settle the matter to the satisfaction of 
 both parties. 
 
 " The harm is done, madame," said the priest, in a 
 grave voice. " The pious and excellent Mademoiselle 
 Gamard is dying." {I don't care a fig for the old 
 thing, thought he, but I mean to put her death on 
 your shoulders and harass your conscience if you 
 are such a fool as to listen to it.) 
 
 " On hearing of her illness," replied the baroness, 
 "I entreated Monsieur Birotteau to relinquish his 
 claims ; I have brought the document, intending to 
 give it to that excellent woman." {I see what you 
 mean, you wily scoundrel, thought she, but we are 
 safe now from your calumnies. If you take this 
 document you '11 cut your own fingers by admitting 
 you are an accomplice.) 
 
 There was silence for a moment. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Gamard's temporal affairs do not 
 concern me," said the priest at last, lowering the large 
 lids over his eagle eyes to veil his emotions. (Ho! 
 ho! thought he, you can't compromise me. Thank 
 God, those damned lawyers won't dare to plead any 
 cause that could smirch me. What do these Listo- 
 meres expect to get by crouching in this way f) 
 
326 The Vicar of Turs. 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the baroness, " Monsieur Birot- 
 teau's affairs are no more mine than those of Made- 
 moiselle Gamard are yours ; but, unfortunate^, religion 
 is injured by such a quarrel, and I come to you as a 
 mediator — just as I myself am seeking to make peace." 
 ( We are not deceiving each other, Monsieur Troubert, 
 thought she. Don't you feel the sarcasm of that 
 answer f) 
 
 " Injury to religion, raadame ! " exclaimed the vicar- 
 general. " Religion is too lofty for the actions of men to 
 injure." (3fy religion is I, thought he.) " God makes 
 no mistake in His judgments, madame ; I recognize no 
 tribunal but His." 
 
 " Then, monsieur," she replied, " let us endeavor to 
 bring the judgments of men into harmony with the judg- 
 ments of God." ( Yes, indeed, your religion is you.) 
 
 The Abbe* Troubert suddenly changed his tone. 
 
 " Your nephew has been to Paris, I believe." ( You 
 found out about me there, thought he ; you know now 
 that lean crush you^ you who dared to slight me, and 
 you have come to capitulate.) 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; thank 30U for the interest you 
 take in him. He returns to-night ; the minister, who 
 is very considerate of us, sent for him; he does not 
 want Monsieur de Listomere to leave the service." 
 {Jesuit, you can't crush us, thought she. I understand 
 your civility.) 
 
 A moment's silence. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 327 
 
 " I did not think my nephew's conduct in this affair 
 quite the thing," she added ; " but naval men must be 
 excused ; they know nothing of law." ( Come, we had 
 better make peace, thought she ; we sha'n't gain any- 
 thing by battling in this way.) 
 
 . A slight smile wandered over the priest's face and 
 was lost in its wrinkles. 
 
 " He has done us the service of getting a proper 
 estimate on the value of those paintings," he said, 
 looking up at the pictures. " They will be a noble 
 ornament to the chapel of the Virgin." ( You shot 
 a sarcasm at me, thought he, and there 's another in 
 return ; we are quits, madame.) 
 
 " If you intend to give them to Saint-Gatien, allow 
 me to offer frames that will be more suitable and 
 worthy of the place, and of the works themselves." (I 
 wish J could force you to betray that you have taken 
 Birotteau's things for your own, thought she.) 
 
 " They do not belong to me," said the priest, on his 
 guard. 
 
 " Here is the deed of relinquishment," said Madame 
 de Listomere ; " it ends all discussion, and makes them 
 over to Mademoiselle Gamard." She laid the docu- 
 ment on the table. {See the confidence I place in you, 
 thought she.) " It is worthj- of 3-ou, monsieur," she 
 added, "worthy of your noble character, to reconcile 
 two Christians, — though at present 1 am not especially 
 concerned for Monsieur Birotteau — " 
 
328 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 "He is living in your house," said Troubert, inter- 
 rupting her. 
 
 " No, monsieur, he is no longer there." (That peer- 
 age and my nepheio's promotion force me to do base 
 things, thought she.) 
 
 The priest remained impassible, but his calm ex- 
 terior was an indication of violent emotion. Monsieur 
 de Bourbonne alone had fathomed the secret of that 
 apparent tranquillity. The priest had triumphed ! 
 
 "Why did you take upon } T ourself to bring that 
 relinquishment," he asked, with a feeling analogous 
 to that which impels a woman to fish for compliments. 
 
 " I could not avoid a feeling of compassion. Birot- 
 teau, whose feeble nature must be well known to you, 
 entreated me to see Mademoiselle Gamard and to 
 obtain as the price of his renunciation — " 
 
 The priest frowned. 
 " of rights upheld by distinguished lawyers, the por- 
 trait of — 
 
 Troubert looked fixedly at Madame de Listomere.   
 " the portrait of Chapeloud," she said, continuing ; 
 " I leave you to judge of his claim." ( You will be cer- 
 tain to lose your case if we go to law, and you know 
 it, thought she.) 
 
 The tone of her voice as she said the words " dis- 
 tinguished lawyers " showed the priest that she knew 
 very well both the strength and the weakness of the 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 329 
 
 enemy. She made her talent so plain to this connois- 
 seur emeritus in the course of a conversation which 
 lasted a long time in the tone here given, that Trou- 
 bert finally went down to Mademoiselle Gamard to 
 obtain her answer to Birotteau's request for the 
 portrait. 
 
 He soon returned. 
 
 " Madame," he said, U I bring you the words of a 
 dying woman. * The Abbe* Chapeloud was so true a 
 friend to me,' she said, ' that I cannot consent to part 
 with his picture.' As for me," added Troubert, " if 
 it were mine I would not yield it. My feelings to my 
 late friend were so faithful that I should feel my right 
 to his portrait was above that of others." 
 
 " Well, there 's no need to quarrel over a bad pic- 
 ture." (I care as little about it as you do, thought 
 she.) " Keep it, and I will have a copy made of it. I 
 take some credit to in}'self for having averted this de- 
 plorable lawsuit ; and I have gained, personally, the 
 pleasure of your acquaintance. I hear you haye 
 a great talent for whist. You will forgive a woman 
 for curiosity," she said, smiling. " If you will come 
 and play at my house sometimes you cannot doubt 
 3'Our welcome." 
 
 Troubert stroked his chin. ( Caught ! Bourbonne 
 was right ! thought she ; he has his quantum of 
 vanity /) 
 
330 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 It was true. The vicar-general was feeling the de- 
 lightful sensation which Mirabeau was unable to sub- 
 due when in the days of his power he found gates 
 opening to his carriage which were barred to him in 
 earlier days. 
 
 " Madame," he replied, " my avocations prevent my 
 going much into society ; but for you, what will not a 
 man do? " ( The old maid is going to die ; I'll get a 
 footing at the Listom&re's, and serve them if they 
 serve me, thought he. It is better to have them for 
 friends than enemies.) 
 
 Madame de Listomere went home, hoping that the 
 archbishop would complete the work of peace so au- 
 spiciously begun. But Birotteau was fated to gain 
 nothing by his relinquishment. Mademoiselle Gamard 
 died the next day. No one felt surprised when her 
 will was opened to find that she had left everything to 
 the Abbe" Troubert. Her fortune was appraised at 
 three hundred thousand francs. The vicar-general 
 sent to Madame de Listomere two notes of invitation 
 for the services and for the funeral procession of his 
 friend ; one for herself and one for her nephew. 
 
 " We must go," she said. 
 
 " It can't be helped," said Monsieur de Bourbonne. 
 4 ' It is a test to which Troubert puts you. Baron, you 
 must go to the cemeterj'," he added, turning to the lieu- 
 tenant, who, unluckily for him, had not left Tours. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 831 
 
 The services took place, and were performed with 
 unusual ecclesiastical magnificence. Only one person 
 wept; and that was Birotteau, who, kneeling in a side 
 chapel and seen by none, believed himself guilty of the 
 death and pra}*ed sincerely for the soul of the de- 
 ceased, bitterly deploring that he was not able to 
 obtain her forgiveness before she died. 
 
 The Abbe" Troubert followed the body of his friend 
 to the grave ; at the verge of which he delivered a 
 discourse in which, thanks to his eloquence, the narrow 
 life the old maid had lived was enlarged to monumental 
 proportions. Those present took particular note of the 
 following words in the peroration : — 
 
 " This life of days devoted to God and to His reli- 
 gion, a life adorned with noble actions silently per- 
 formed, and with modest and hidden virtues, was 
 crushed by a sorrow which we might call undeserved 
 if we could forget, here at the verge of this grave, 
 that our afflictions are sent by God. The numerous 
 friends of this saintly woman, knowing the innocence 
 and nobility of her soul, foresaw that she would issue 
 safely from her trials in spite of the accusations which 
 blasted her life. It may be that Providence has called- 
 her to the bosom of God to withdraw her from those 
 trials. Happy they who can rest here below in the 
 peace of their own hearts as Sophie now is resting in 
 her robe of innocence among the blest." 
 
332 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 "When he had ended his pompous discourse," said 
 Monsieur de Bourbonne, after relating the incidents of 
 the interment to Madame de Listomere when whist was 
 over, the doors shut, and they were alone with the 
 baron, "this Louis XI. in a cassock — imagine him 
 if j'ou can ! — gave a last flourish to the sprinkler and 
 aspersed the coffin with holy water." Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne picked up the tongs and imitated the 
 priest's gesture so satirically that the baron and his 
 aunt could not help laughing. "Not until then," con- 
 tinued the old gentleman, " did he contradict himself. 
 Up to that time his behavior had been perfect ; but it 
 was no doubt impossible for him to put the old maid, 
 whom he despised so heartily and hated almost as 
 much as he hated Chapeloud, out of sight forever with- 
 out allowing his joy to appear in that last gesture." 
 
 The next day Mademoiselle Salomon came to break- 
 fast with Madame de Listomere, chiefly to say, with 
 deep emotion: "Our poor Abbe* Birotteau has just 
 received a frightful blow, which shows the most de- 
 termined hatred. He is appointed curate of Saint 
 S3 T mphorien." 
 
 . Saint-Sympliorien is a suburb of Tours lying beyond 
 the bridge. That bridge, one of the finest monuments 
 of French architecture, is nineteen hundred feet long, 
 and the two open squares which surround each end are 
 precisely alike. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 333 
 
 " Don't you see the misery of it?" she said, after 
 a pause, amazed at the coldness with which Madame 
 de Listomere received the news. "It is just as if 
 the abb£ were a hundred miles from Tours, from his 
 friends, from everything ! It is a frightful exile, and 
 all the more cruel because he is kept within sight of 
 the town where he can hardly ever come. Since his 
 troubles he walks very feebly, yet he will have to walk 
 three miles to see his old friends. He has taken to 
 his bed, just now, with fever. The parsonage at Saint- 
 Symphorien is very cold and damp, and the parish is 
 too poor to repair it. The poor old man will be buried 
 in a living tomb. Oh, it is an infamous plot ! " 
 
 To end this history it will suffice to relate a few 
 events in a simple Way, and to give one last picture of 
 its chief personages. 
 
 Five months later the vicar-general was made Bishop 
 of Troyes ; and Madame de Listomere was dead, leav- 
 ing an annuity of fifteen hundred francs to the Abb6 
 Birotteau. The day on which the dispositions in her 
 will were made known Monseigneur Hyacinthe, Bishop 
 of Troyes, was on the point of leaving Tours to reside 
 in his diocese, but he delayed his departure on receiv- 
 ing the news. Furious at being foiled by a woman to 
 whom he had lately given his countenance while she 
 had been secretly holding the hand of a man whom 
 he regarded as his enemy, Troubert again threatened 
 
334 The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 the baron's future career, and put in jeopardy the peer- 
 age of his uncle. He made in the salon of the arch- 
 bishop, and before an assembled party, one of those 
 priestly speeches which are big with vengeance and 
 soft with honied mildness. The Baron de Listomere 
 went the next day to see this implacable enemy, who 
 must have imposed sundry hard conditions upon him, 
 for the baron's subsequent conduct showed the most 
 entire submission to the will of the terrible Jesuit. 
 
 The new bishop made over Mademoiselle Gamard's 
 house by deed of gift to the Chapter of the cathedral ; 
 he gave Chapeloud's books and bookcases to the semi- 
 nary ; he presented the two disputed pictures to the 
 Chapel of the Virgin ; but he kept Chapeloud's portrait. 
 No one knew how to explain this almost total renuncia- 
 tion of Mademoiselle Gamard's bequest. Monsieur de 
 Bourbonne supposed that the bishop had secretly kept 
 moneys that were invested, so as to support his rank 
 with dignity in Paris, where of course he would take 
 his seat on the Bishops' bench in the Upper Chamber. 
 It was not until the night before Monseigneur Trou- 
 bert's departure from Tours that the sly old fox un- 
 earthed the hidden reason of this strange action, the 
 deathblow given by the most persistent vengeance to 
 the feeblest of victims. Madame de Listomere's leg- 
 acy to Birotteau was contested by the Baron de Lis- 
 tomere under a pretence of undue influence ! 
 
The Vicar of Tours, 335 
 
 A f(§w da}'s after the case was brought the baron was 
 promoted to the rank of captain. As a measure of 
 ecclesiastical discipline, the curate of Saint-Symphorien 
 was suspended. His superiors judged him guilt}". 
 The murderer of Sophie Gamard was also a swindler. 
 If Monseigneur Troubert had kept Mademoiselle 
 Gamard's propert} 7 he would have found it difficult to 
 make the ecclesiastical authorities censure Birotteau. 
 
 At the moment when Monseigneur Hyacinthe, Bishop 
 of Troyes, drove along the quay Saint-Symphorien in a 
 post-chaise on his way to Paris poor Birotteau had 
 been placed in an armchair in the sun on a terrace 
 above the road. The unhappy priest, smitten by the 
 archbishop, was pale and haggard. Grief, stamped on 
 every feature, distorted the face that was once so 
 inildly gay. Illness had dimmed his eyes, formerly 
 brightened by the pleasures of good living and devoid 
 of serious ideas, with a veil which simulated thought. 
 It was but the skeleton of the old Birotteau who had 
 rolled only one year earlier so vacuous but so content 
 along the Cloister. The bishop cast one look of pity 
 and contempt upon his victim ; then he consented to 
 forget him, and went his way. 
 
 There is no doubt that Troubert would have been in 
 other times a Hildebrand or an Alexander the Sixth. 
 In these days the Church is no longer a political 
 power, and does not absorb the whole strength of her 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 
 
 solitaries. Celibacy, however, presents the inherent 
 vice of concentrating the faculties of man upon a single 
 passion, egotism, which renders celibates either useless 
 or mischievous. We live at a period when the defect 
 of governments is to make Man for Society rather than 
 Society for Man. There is a perpetual struggle going 
 on between the Individual and the Social system which 
 insists on using him, while he is endeavoring to use it to 
 his own profit; whereas, in former days, man, really 
 more free, was also more loyal to the public weal. The 
 round in which men struggle in these days has been 
 insensibly widened ; the soul which can grasp it as a 
 whole will ever be a magnificent exception ; for, as a 
 general thing, in morals as in physics, impulsion loses 
 in intensity what it gains in extension. Society can 
 not be based on exceptions. Man in the first instance 
 was purely and simply, father ; his heart beat warmly, 
 concentrated in the one ray of Family. Later, he 
 lived for a clan, or a small community ; hence the 
 great historical devotions of Greece and Rome. After 
 that he was the man of a caste or of a religion, to 
 maintain the greatness of which he often proved him- 
 self sublime ; but by that time the field of his interests 
 became enlarged by many intellectual regions. In our 
 day, his life is attached to that of a vast country ; 
 sooner or later his family will be, it is predicted, the 
 entire universe. 
 
The Vicar of Tours. 337 
 
 Will this moral cosmopolitanism, the hope of Chris- 
 tian Rome, prove to be onl} T a sublime error? It is so 
 natural to believe in the realization of a noble vision, 
 in the Brotherhood of Man. But, alas ! the human 
 machine does not have such divine proportions. Souls 
 that are vast enough to grasp a range of feelings 
 bestowed on great men only will never belong to 
 either fathers of families or simple citizens. Some 
 physiologists have thought that as the brain enlarges 
 the heart narrows ; but they are mistaken. The ap- 
 parent egotism of men who bear a science, a nation, a 
 code of laws in their bosom is the noblest of passions ; 
 it is, as one may say, the maternity of the masses ; to 
 give birth to new peoples, to produce new ideas they 
 must unite within their mighty brains the breasts of 
 woman and the force of God. The history of such men 
 as Innocent the Third and Peter the Great, and all great 
 leaders of their age and nation will show, if need be, 
 in the highest spheres the same vast thought of which 
 Troubert was made the representative in the quiet 
 depths of the Cloister of Saint-Gatien. 
 
 THE EN 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers 1 Publications. 
 
 A MEMOIR OF HONORE DE BALZAC. 
 
 Compiled and written by Katharine Prescott Wormeley, translator 
 of Balzac's works. With portrait of Balzac, taken one hour after 
 death, by Eugene Giraud, and a Sketch of the Prison of the College 
 de Vendome. One volume, i2mo. Half Russia, uniform with our 
 edition of Balzac's works. Price, $1.50. 
 
 A complete life of Balzac can probably never be written. The sole object of 
 the present volume is to present Balzac to American readers. This memoir is 
 meant to be a presentation of the man, — and not of his work, except as it was a 
 part of himself, — derived from authentic sources of information, and presented in 
 their own words, with such simple elucidations as a close intercourse with Balzac's 
 mind, necessitated by conscientious translation, naturally gives. The portrait 
 in this volume was considered by Madame de Balzac the best likeness of her 
 husband. 
 
 Miss Wormeley's discussion of the subject is of value in many ways, and it has 
 long been needed as a help to comprehension of his life and character. Person- 
 ally, he lived up to his theory. His life was in fact austere. Any detailed ac- 
 count of the conditions under which he worked, such as are given in this volume, 
 will show that this must have been the case ; and the fact strongly reinforces the 
 doctrine. Miss Wormeley, in arranging her account of his career, has, almost 
 of necessity, made free use of the letters and memoir published by Balzac's sister, 
 Madame Surville. She has also, whenever it would serve the purpose of illus- 
 tration better, quoted from the sketches of him by his contemporaries, wisely 
 rejecting the trivialities and frivolities by the exaggeration of which many of his 
 first chroniclers seemed bent upon giving the great author a kind of opera-bouffe 
 aspect. To judge from some of these accounts, he was nighty, irresponsible, 
 possibly a little mad, prone to lose touch of actualities by the dominance of his 
 imagination, fond of wild and impracticable schemes, and altogether an eccentric 
 and unstable person. But it is not difficult to prove that Balzac was quite a 
 different character ; that he possessed a marvellous power of intellectual organi- 
 zation ; that he was the most methodical and indefatigable of workers; that he 
 was a man of a most delicate sense of humor ; that his life was not simply de- 
 voted to literary ambition, tut was a martyrdom to obligations which were his 
 misfortune, but not his fault. 
 
 All this Miss Wormley has well set forth ; and in doing so she has certainly 
 relieved Balzac of much unmerited odium, and has enabled those who have not 
 made a study of his character and work to understand how high the place is in 
 any estimate of the helpers of modern progress and enlightenment to which his 
 genius and the loftiness of his aims entitle him. This memoir is a very modest 
 biography, though a very good one. The author has effaced herself as much as 
 possible, and has relied upon "documents" whenever they were trustworthy. — 
 N. Y.~ Tribune. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of 
 price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 An Historical Mystery. 
 
 Translated by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 12mo. Half Russia. Uniform with Balzac's Works. Price, $1.50. 
 
 Ah Historical MysterySs the title given to" Une Te^breuse Affaire," which 
 has just appeared in the series of translations of Honors' de Balzac's novels, by 
 Katharine Prescott Wormeley This exciting romance is full of stirring interest, 
 and is distinguished by that minute analysis of character in which its eminent 
 author excelled. The characters stand boldly out from the surrounding incidents, 
 and with a fidelity as wonderful as it is truthful. Plot and counterplot follow 
 each other with marvellous rapidity; and around the exciting davs when Na- 
 poleon was First Consul, and afterward when he was Emperor, a mystery is 
 woven in which some royalists are concerned that is concealed with masterly 
 ingenuity until the novelist sees fit to take his reader into his confidence. The 
 heroine, Laurence, is a remarkably strong character ; and the love-story in which 
 she figures is refreshing in its departure from the beaten path of the ordinary 
 writer of fiction. Michu, her devoted servant, has also a marked individuality, 
 which leaves a lasting impression. Napoleon, Talleyrand, Fouchd, and other 
 historical personages, appear in the tale in a manner that is at once natural and 
 impressive. As an addition to a remarkable series, the book is one that no 
 admirer of Balzac can afford to neglect. Miss Wormeley's translation reproduces 
 the peculiarities of the author's style with the faithfulness for which she has 
 hitherto been celebrated. — Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 It makes very interesting reading at this distance of time, however ; and Balzac 
 has given to the legendary account much of the solidity of history by his adroit 
 manipulation. For the main story it must be said that the action is swifter and 
 more varied than in many of the author's books, and that there are not wanting 
 many of those cameo-like portraits necessary to warn the reader against slovenly 
 perusal of this carefully written story; for the complications are such, and the re- 
 lations between the several plots involved so intricate, that the thread might 
 easily be lost and much of the interest be thus destroyed The usual Balzac 
 compactness is of course present throughout, to give body and significance to the 
 work, and the stage is crowded with impressive figures. It would be impossible 
 to find a book which gives a better or more faithful illustration of one of the 
 strangest periods in French history, in short ; and its attraction as a story is at 
 least equalled by its value as a true picture of the time it is concerned with. The 
 translation is as spirited and close as Miss Wormeley has taught us to expect in 
 this admirable series. —New York Tribune. 
 
 One of the most intensely interesting novels that Balzac ever wrote is An 
 Historical Mystery, whose translation has just been added to the preceding 
 novels that compose the "ComeMie Humaine " so admirably translated by Miss 
 Katharine Prescott Wormeley. The story opens in the autumn of 1803, in the 
 time of the Empire, and the motive is in deep-laid political plots, which are re- 
 vealed with the subtle and ingenious skill that marks the art of Balzac. . . The 
 story is a deep-laid political conspiracy of the secret service of the ministry of 
 the police. Talleyrand, M'lle de Cinq-Cygne, the Princess de Cadigan, Louis 
 XVIIL, as well as Napoleon, figure as characters of this thrilling historic ro- 
 mance. An absorbing love-story is also told, in which State intrigue plays an 
 important part. The character-drawing is faithful to history, and the story illu- 
 minates French life in the early years of the century as if a calcium light were 
 thrown on the scene. 
 
 It is a romance of remarkable power ? and one of the most deeply fascinating 
 of all the novels of the *' Com^die Humaine." 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 Price by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 Fame and Sorrow, 
 
 anto ©tfjer .Stories. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 I2mo. Half Russia. Uniform with our edition of Balzac's 
 Works. Price, $1.50. In addition to this remarkable story, 
 the volume contains the following, namely : " Colonel Chabert," 
 '■' The Atheist's Mass," " La Grande Breteche," " The Purse," and 
 " La Grenadiere." 
 
 The force and passion of the stories of Balzac are unapproachable. He had 
 the art of putting into half a dozen pages all the fire and stress which many 
 writers, who are still great, cannot compass in a volume. The present volume is 
 an admirable collection, and presents well his power of handling the short story. 
 That the translation is excellent need hardly be said — Boston Courier. 
 
 The six stories, admirably translated by Miss Wormeley, afford good examples 
 of Balzac's work in what not a few critics have thought his chief specialty. It is 
 certain that no writer of many novels wrote so many short stories as he ; and it is 
 equally as certain that his short stories are, almost without an exception, models 
 of what such compositions ought to be. . . No modern author, however, of any 
 school whatever, has succeeded in producing short stories half so good as Balzac's 
 best. Balzac did not, indeed, attempt to display his subtility and deftness by 
 writing short stories about nothing. Every one of his tales contains an episode, 
 not necessarily, but usually, a dramatic episode The first in the present collec- 
 tion, better known as " La Maison du Chat-qui-pelote," is really a short novel. 
 It has all the machinery, all the interest, all the detail of a regular story. The 
 difference is that it is compressed as Balzac only could compress ; that here and 
 there important events, changes, etc., are indicated in a few powerful line* instead 
 of being elaborated; that the vital points are thrown into strong relief. Take the 
 pathetic story of " Colonel Chabert " It begins with an elaboration of detail. 
 The description of the lawyer's office might seem to some too minute. But it is 
 the stage upon which the Colonel is to appear, and when he enters we see the 
 value of the preliminaries, for a picture is presented which the memory seizes and 
 holds. As the action progresses, detail is used more parsimoniously, because tho 
 mise-en-scene has alreadv been completed, and because, also, the characters once 
 clearly described, the development of character and the working of passion can 
 be indicated with a few pregnant strokes. Notwithstanding this increasing 
 economy of space, the action takes on a swifter intensity, and the culmination 01 
 the tragedy leaves the reader breathless. 
 
 In "The Atheist s Mass" we have quite a new kind of story This is rather 
 a psychological study than a narrative of action. Two widely distinguished char- 
 acters are thrown on the canvas here, — that of the great surgeon and that of the 
 humble patron; and one knows not which most to admire, the vigor of the 
 drawing, or the subtle and lucid psychical analysis. In both there is rare beauty of 
 soul, and perhaps, after all, the poor Auvergnat surpasses the eminent surgeon, 
 though this is a delicate and difficult question. But how complete the little story 
 is ; how much it tells ; with what skill, and in how delightful a manner ! Then 
 there is that tremendous haunting legend of " La Grande Breteche," a story which 
 has always been turned into more languages and twisted into more new forms than 
 almost any other of its kind extant. What author has equalled the continuing 
 horror of that unfaithful wife's agony, compelled to look on and assist at the slow 
 murder of her entrapped lover? . . Then the death of the husband and wife, — 
 the one by quick and fiercer dissipation, the other by simple refusal to live longer, 
 — and the abandonment of the accursed dwelling to solitude and decay, complete 
 a picture, which for vividness, emotional force, imaginative power, and compre- 
 hensiveness of effects, can be said to have few equals in its own class of fiction. — 
 Kansas City Journal. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
 the publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 SONS OF THE SOIL. 
 
 Translated by Kathan'ne Prescott Wormeley. 
 
 Many critics have regarded " Les Paysans," to which Miss Wormeley, 
 in her admirable translation, has given the title " Sons of the Soil," as one 
 of Balzac's strongest novels ; and it cannot fail to impress those who read 
 this English rendering of it. Fifty or sixty years ago Balzac made a pro- 
 found study of the effects produced by the Revolution upon the peasants 
 of the remote provinces of France, and he has here elaborated these obser- 
 vations in a powerful picture of one of those strange, disguised, but fero- 
 cious social wars which were at the time not only rendered possible, but 
 promoted by three potent influences, namely, the selfishness of the rich 
 landholders; the land-hunger and stimulated greed of the peasants; and 
 the calculated rapacity of middle-class capitalists, craftily using the hatreds 
 of the poor to forward their own plots. The first part of " Les Paysans " 
 (and the only part which w,.s published during the author's life) appeared 
 under a title taken from an old and deeply significant proverb, Qui a terre 
 a guerre, — " Who has land has war." 
 
 It is the account of a guerilla war conducted by a whole country-sids 
 against one great land-owner, — a war in which, moreover, the lawless 
 aggressions of the peasantry are prompted, supported, and directed by an 
 amazing alliance between the richest, most unscrupulons, and most power 
 ful of the neighboring provincial magnates, who, by controlling, through 
 family council, the local administration, are in a position to paralyze resist 
 ance to their conspiracy. The working out of this deep plot affords th» 
 author opportunity for the introduction of a whole gallery of marvellout 
 studies. 
 
 It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that this powerful and absorbing 
 story is lifted above the level of romance by the unequalled artistic genius 
 of the author, and that it is at times almost transformed into a profound 
 political study by the depth and acumen of his suggestions and comments. 
 Nor should it be requisite to point out analogies with territorial conditions 
 in more than one other country, which lend to " Les Paysans " a special 
 interest and significance, and are likely to prevent it from becoming obsolete 
 for a long time to come. Of the translation it only need be said that it is 
 as good as Miss Wormeley has accustomed us to expect, and that means 
 the best rendering of French into English that has ever been done. — 
 New York Tribune. 
 
 Handsome 12mo volume, bound in half Russia. Price, 
 $1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
BALZAC'S PHILOSOPHICAL NOVELS. 
 
 THE MAGIC SKIN.— LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 — ee=SERAPHITA.= 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION TO EACH NOVEL BV 
 
 GEORGE FREDERIC PARSONS. 
 
 [From Le Livre, Revue du Monde Littiraire, Paris, March, 1889.] 
 There are men so great that humanity passes generations of existences in 
 measuring them. . . . Certain it is that to-day the French Academy makes Bal- 
 zac's work the theme for its prize of eloquence, that the great writer is translated 
 and commented upon in foreign countries, and that in Paris and even at Tours, 
 his native place, statues are in process of being erected to him. . . . But the 
 marble of M. Chapus, the bronze of M. Fournier, — Balzac sad or Balzac seated, — 
 are of little consequence to the glory of the writer standing before the world, who 
 bore a world in his brain and brought it forth, who was at once the Diderot and 
 the Rabelais of this century, and who, above and beyond their fire, their imagina- 
 tion, their superabounding life, their hilarious spirit, paradoxical and marvellously 
 sagacious as it was, had in the highest degree the mystical gift of intuition, and is 
 able, beyond all others, to open to us illimitable vistas of the Unseen. 
 
 It is this side of Balzac's genius which at the present time attracts and pre- 
 occupies foreign critics. Mile Katharine Prescott Wormeley has undertaken to 
 translate the " Comedie Humaine " into English. She has already published 
 several volumes which show a most intelligent sympathy and a talent that is both 
 simple and vigorous. Lately she translated " La Peau de Chagrin " (" The Magic 
 Skin"), and now, taking another step into the esoteric work of the Master, she gives 
 to the Anglo-Saxon public " Louis Lambert." But she does not venture upon this 
 arduous task without support. Mr. George Frederic Parsons has undertaken in a 
 long introduction to initiate the reader into the meaning hidden , or, we should rather 
 say, encased, in the psychologic study of a lofty soul which ends by inspiring mun- 
 dane minds with respect for its seeming madness and a deep sense of the Beyond. 
 . . . Many critics, and several noted ones, have so little understood the real mean- 
 ing of " Louis Lambert" and " Seraphka " that they have wondered why the au- 
 thor gave them a place in the " Comedie Humaine," which, nevertheless, without 
 them would be a temple without a pediment, as M. Taine very clearly saw and 
 said. Mr. Parsons takes advantage of Miss Wormeley's translation to state and 
 prove and elucidate this truth. The commentary may be thought a little long, a 
 little replete, or too full of comparisons and erudite reference ; but all serious 
 readers who follow it throughout will never regret that they have thus prepared 
 themselves to understand Balzac's work. We call the attention of the philosophi- 
 cal and theosophical journals to this powerful study. [Translated.] 
 
 Handsome i2mo volumes; bound in half Russia, French style. 
 Price, $1.50 per volume. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 
 "As for Balzac," writes Oscar Wilde, "he was a most remarkable combination 
 of the artistic temperament with the scientific spirit." It is his artistic tempera- 
 ment which reveals itself the most clearly in the novel before us. As we read 
 "Louis Lambert," we feel convinced that it is largely autobiographical. It is a 
 psychical study as delicate as Amiel's Journal, and nearly as spiritual. We follow 
 the life of the sensitive, poetical schoolboy, feeling that it is a true picture of Bal- 
 zac's own youth. When the literary work on which the hero had written for years 
 in all his spare moments is destroyed, we do not need to be told by Mr. Parsons 
 that this is an episode in Balzac's own experience ; we are sure of this fact already ; 
 and no writer could describe so sympathetically the deep spiritual experiences of 
 an aspiring soul who had not at heart felt them keenly. No materialist could have 
 written " Louis Lambert." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 Of all of Balzac's works thus far translated by Miss Katharine Prescott Wormeley, 
 the last in the series, " Louis Lambert," is the most difficult of comprehension. 
 It is the second of the author's Philosophical Studies, "The Magic Skin" being 
 the first, and " Seraphita," shortly to be published, being the third and last. In 
 "Louis Lambert" Balzac has presented a study of a noble soul — a spirit of 
 exalted and lofty aspirations which chafes under the fetters of earthly existence, 
 and has no sympathy with the world of materialism. This pure-souled genius is 
 made the medium, moreover, for the enunciation of the outlines of a system of 
 philosophy which goes to the very roots of Oriental occultism and mysticism as its 
 source, and which thus reveals the marvellous scope of Balzac's learning. The 
 scholarly introduction to the book by George Frederic Parsons, in addition to 
 throwing a great deal of valuable light upon other phases of the work, shows how 
 many of the most recent scientific theories are directly in line with the doctrines 
 broadly set forth by Balzac nearly sixty years ago. The book is one to be studied 
 rather than read ; and it is made intelligible by the extremely able introduction 
 and by Miss Wormeley's excellent translation. — The Book-Buyer- 
 
 " Louis Lambert," with the two other members of the Trilogy, " La Peau de 
 Chagrin " and " Seraphita," is a book which presents many difficulties to the 
 student. It deals with profound and unfamiliar subjects, and the meaning of the 
 author by no means lies on the surface. It is the study of a great, aspiring soul 
 enshrined in a feeble body, the sword wearing out the scabbard, the spirit soaring 
 away from its prison-house of flesh to its more congenial home. It is in marked 
 contrast to the study of the destructive and debasing process which we see in the 
 " Peau de Chagrin." It stands midway between this study of the mean and base 
 and that noble presentation of the final evolution of a soul on the very borders of 
 Divinity which Balzac gives us in " Seraphita." 
 
 The reader not accustomed to such high ponderings needs a guide to place him 
 en rapport with the Seer. Such a guide and friend he finds in Mr. Parsons, 
 whose introduction of one hundred and fifty pages is by no means the least valu- 
 able part of this volume. It is impossible to do more than sketch the analysis of 
 Balzac's philosophy and the demonstration so successfully attempted by Mr. Par- 
 sons of the exact correlation between many of Balzac's speculations and the 
 newest scientific theories. The introduction is so closely written that it defies 
 much condensation, it is so intrinsically valuable that it will thoroughly repay 
 careful and minute study. — From "Light" a London Journal of Psychical and 
 Occult Research, March 9,1889. 
 
   
 
 One handsome \2tn0 volume, uniform with " Pere Goriot" " The 
 Duchesse de Langeais," 1 " Cesar Birotieau," " Eugenie Grandetf 
 " Cousin Pons" " The Country Doctor" " The Two Brothers" " The 
 Alkahest" " Modeste Million" " The Magic Skin" "Cousin Bette. ,y 
 Bound in half morocco, French Style. Price, #1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
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