SHK&KAft 
 
 BH
 
 GYP 
 
 THE COUNTESS DE MARTEL-JANVILLE.
 
 CHIFFON'S MARRIAGE 
 
 BY 
 
 GYP 
 
 {Translated from tbe jfrencb 
 
 PY 
 
 MRS. EDWARD LEES COFFEY 
 
 $>by//e (_ 
 
 /N / - : J 
 S 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, 
 BY 
 
 HURST & COMPANY.
 
 tro 
 
 MADAME MAURICE BARRED 
 
 THIS WORK 
 13 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 GYP. 
 
 2136896
 
 CHIFFON'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " WIFE of an officer ! What an occupation? 
 I would rather be an orderly in a Lyceum 1" 
 
 The Marchioness de Bray shrugged her 
 shoulders : " When you know what officer is 
 in question " 
 
 "Though it should be M. de Trene, that 
 every one thinks so distinguished, I would 
 not think of it." 
 
 " You would not wish it, indeed ! You 
 have no right to be so hard to please, for " 
 
 "'Your father has left only debts and you 
 have not a cent.' Ah! I am accustomed to 
 this from you, you say it so often I can never 
 forget it." 
 
 " Well, then?" 
 
 "Very well; even though I have not A 
 cent, I will never marry without love." 
 5
 
 6 Cbfffon'0 dBarrtage. 
 
 M. de Bray said with some timidity: 
 " Without being rich you have some expecta- 
 tions probably a fortune." 
 
 " A fortune?" the child repeated with as- 
 tonishment-'^ fortune that you may give 
 me?" 
 
 Her soft gray eyes under long, thick brown 
 lashes rested affectionately upon her step- 
 father. 
 
 Mme. de Bray said angrily : " It is useless 
 to teach her what she need not know ; it will 
 only make her more difficult to please." 
 
 " How difficult?" Coryse answered with in- 
 dignation; "difficult in what? I was only 
 sixteen a few months ago, and no one has 
 asked me in marriage that I know of." 
 
 " If some one should ask you and you re- 
 fuse before knowing who?" 
 
 "I don't wish to marry an officer, never! 
 I see the officers' wives here ; there are plenty 
 of them in the four regiments. I would not 
 be in their place for anything. I am not like 
 them not polite enough. I know that if 
 my colonel had a wife like Mme. de Bassigny 
 for example, I would not visit her, nothing 
 would induce me I" Looking toward the end
 
 Cbfffon's fl&arrfage* 7 
 
 of the room to find an ally, she said: * Am I 
 not right, Uncle Marc?" 
 
 Without giving: him time to reply, Mme. 
 de Bray said: "That is not your uncle's 
 affair. Will you listen to me an instant?" 
 In solemn tones she said : " The Duke d'Au- 
 bieres has asked you in marriage." 
 
 She stopped a moment to see the effect 
 upon her daughter. The little baby face 
 seemed stupefied Mme. de Bray understood 
 this expression to be joy, and with a trium- 
 phant air asked her decision. 
 
 " Why, I am only a child !" and without 
 seeming to notice her mother's anger she said : 
 " Yes! he is at least forty, he must be as he 
 is colonel ; he is ugly, and they say has very 
 little money." 
 
 The marchioness, looking scornfully at her 
 daughter, said : " This is enough. She wishes 
 a fortune also !" 
 
 Leaning her blonde head forward, Coryse 
 answered : " Oh no ! the money is nothing, as 
 I am not to be duke duchess, I would say. 
 It is ridiculous, a big title and small fortune. 
 If I had been born rich I would not hide it 
 though it would bore me, and I would bear
 
 Cbfffon's flbarrfagc. 
 
 tny title, as it would" not be my fault It is 
 not for this reason that I now say no; it is 
 principally on account of the man.'* 
 
 " But you have said a hundred times that 
 the Duke d'Aubieres was charming, and that 
 you liked him so much." 
 
 " Certainly, I like him very much! but not 
 to marry him. First, he is old, and to spend 
 a life with him would indeed be funny." 
 
 The marchioness, looking angrily at her 
 husband, said: "One does not marry to be 
 funny." 
 
 " Well, I will marry in my own way." 
 
 " Why, this child is crazy ! I had better go 
 away ;" rising to go in a way she thought very 
 noble, but really ridiculous, the marchioness 
 left the room with long strides. 
 
 When the door was shut with a great noise, 
 M. de Bray said quietly : " You are wrong, 
 my little Coryse." 
 
 Coryse was calmed by her mother's noisy 
 exit and threw herself in a big old chair cov- 
 ered with faded silk in which she almost dis- 
 appeared. Looking up she said : 
 
 "Why do you call me Coryse? Why not 
 Chiffon? You, too, are angry with me."
 
 Cbfffon's fliarrtage. 9 
 
 * No, I am not angry, but " 
 
 "If you are angry I see the reason, and 
 what will you say if I am short with you?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing. I will say no more, I know 
 you will say you are wrong." 
 
 " Wrong about what?" 
 
 " To discuss matters in this way with your 
 mother." 
 
 " Why should they marry me without my 
 consent? without defending myself?" 
 
 " I did not say that." 
 
 " Then what did you say?" 
 
 " You can discuss, but in a different tone. 
 Your language exasperates your mother." 
 
 " Yes ! I know it; she loves a noble style !" 
 
 All the tenderness and beauty disappeared 
 from her eyes, and she said in harsh tones: 
 " She is so distinguished she !" 
 
 M. de Bray answered sadly: "You give 
 me much anxiety, Coryse." 
 
 " Oh, papa, I would not give you pain for 
 the world ! I love you so much I" 
 
 " I too love you !" 
 
 " Then why do you wish to send me away 
 and marry me at any risk?" 
 
 " But I do not wish this."
 
 10 Cbfffon's /Carriage, 
 
 "You know that I am only sixteen and a 
 half years old ; let me beg you to allow me 
 to live here a while longer" counting on her 
 fingers "for five years, not quite five, and 
 then I will go, I promise you." 
 
 The soft gray eyes were troubled, and big 
 tears like glass beads fell on her fresh cheeks. 
 
 Corysande d'Avesnes, whom they called 
 Coryse, or generally Chiffon, was a young girl 
 robust in figure, but baby-like and with many 
 of the angularities of childhood a clear skin 
 full of rose-light. Her movements were easy 
 though not always graceful, like a young dog. 
 
 Mme. de Bray was full of vanity, looking 
 down upon many she met socially as inferior 
 beings. She assumed always a scornful air 
 to those around her. The Count d'Avesnes 
 had the cleverness to die in two years, and 
 thus escaped an almost impossible existence 
 at home. His wife was left without fortune 
 and went with her child to the house of an 
 uncle and aunt, who adored Coryse and took 
 care of her until the second marriage of her 
 mother. Madame d'Avesnes was rarely at 
 home; she travelled constantly, visiting 
 friends or in Paris.
 
 Cbfffon's fl&arriage. 11 
 
 It was on one of these visits to Pont-sur- 
 Garthe that she met M. de Bray. He was 
 wealthy and charming: she had become a 
 little fassee and knew that her beauty was 
 going. She was therefore rfsigned to reign 
 at Pont-sur-Sarthe, as she could not shine 
 elsewhere, and she married M. de Bray, de- 
 claring that it was from devotion to her child 
 and to assure her future. 
 
 Then began for the poor husband this un- 
 comfortable existence, made up of reproaches 
 and silences painful scenes which his prede- 
 cessor had suffered and also the Uncle and 
 Aunt de Launay, who bore it all for love 
 of their little Chiffon, whom they feared to 
 lose. 
 
 It was for her daughter that Mme. de Bray 
 reserved her worst bickerings. The nature 
 of the child was contrary to her own ideas, 
 narrow from one ' point of view and large 
 from another. Prepossessed with a love for 
 the nobility, and money too, since she got it,, 
 and loving above all display, she could not 
 pardon the simplicity of her daughter, and 
 her straightforwardness was an enigma. 
 Being of no certain type, she tried to create
 
 12 Cbfffcm's dbarrfage. 
 
 one ; she learned to speak from the theatres 
 and to think from novels ; having at bottom 
 no really fine thoughts, she applied badly the 
 borrowed ones. When for example she 
 wished to be t*agic, she was so ridiculous 
 that Chiffon could not suppress screams of 
 laughter. 
 
 Although her own appearance was rather 
 vulgar, yet she constantly reproached her 
 daughter that she had not even the distinc- 
 tion of the d'Avesnes. 
 
 When Coryse began to cry, M. de Bray was 
 completely overcome and tried his best to 
 comfort her: "Come, my little Chiffon, be 
 reasonable, it will all be right." 
 
 She replied by shaking her head with dis- 
 couragement. 
 
 " That will be arranged, I suppose, by 
 marrying M. d'Aubieres. I could not do bet- 
 ter, if I did not feel that in marrying him I 
 would be doing a very wrong thing and mak- 
 ing him unhappy. But for this I would let 
 them be rid of me at once." 
 
 * It is wrong of you to say that to me !" 
 
 " It is not for you that I say it, and you 
 fcnow it"
 
 Cbitton's dfcarriaae. 18 
 
 * But your mother is not more anxious for 
 you to go than I am." 
 
 " Ah, you know differently. She is dread- 
 fully afraid that I will not marry, and above 
 all make a fine match ; not for my happi- 
 ness that is nothing; but to satisfy her 
 own vanity, to excite the jealousy of all 
 the people in Pont-sur-Sarthe, for nothing 
 else." 
 
 " I am distressed to hear you talk so of your 
 mother." 
 
 " I cannot restrain the impulse, I must say 
 what I think !" 
 
 " Exactly, but you should not think in this 
 way." 
 
 " How can I help this? Do you think she 
 really loves me? Before you came to this 
 house she scolded me all the while, or ac- 
 cused others of spoiling me. But for you 
 and Uncle and Aunt de Launay, I would hs.ve 
 had no one to care for me ! Twice a year she 
 kissed me, when she went away and came 
 back, and this was done at the door for the 
 benefit of the servants 'O my Corysandel 
 my beloved child!' a little melodrama for 
 outsiders." Then with a. little laugh she
 
 14 CbtfFon'0 Carriage. 
 
 added: "You know that she has always 
 lacked simplicity." 
 
 " You exaggerate her defects." 
 
 "You should not say so, you who are so 
 natural and simple." 
 
 " It pleases you to thwart your mamma in 
 'little things " 
 
 " ' Your mamma !' Take care, she may hear 
 you." 
 
 As M. de Bray looked toward the door, she 
 said: 
 
 " You are afraid !" and with a solemn voice, 
 "to have forgotten that mamma is a good 
 name for common people, for the concierge ; 
 the well-bred speak differently." 
 
 " Since your mother has the little weakness 
 of making this an important matter, why not 
 gratify her?" 
 
 " I do nothing else. In-speaking to her I 
 never call her mamma, but in speaking of her 
 I always say my mother; a mouth full but 
 heart empty. Ah ! it is not my fault ! I have 
 tried since you replaced my poor papa, and 
 you have been so good and kind to the ugly 
 little girl who did not want to see you I 
 have loved you so dearly since I knew you
 
 Cbiffon'0 flbarrfage, 15 
 
 that to give you pleasure I have tried to love 
 your wife, but this is impossible !" 
 
 " This speech is abominable !" 
 
 " Why ! I am attached to her in a certain 
 way. I would be distressed if anything hap- 
 pened to her, and I only wish her happiness; 
 but when I am not with her, positively I 
 breathe better." 
 
 Seeing the unhappy expression of her step- 
 father she added, " Don't you know that I 
 have never said this to any one but to you?" 
 
 " Happy thing !" muttered the poor stunned 
 man. 
 
 " It is true ! I have confidence only in you." 
 As she looked over her shoulder she saw the 
 Count de Bray, who was sitting in a wicker 
 chair, so she added, " In Uncle Marc too. 
 Why don't you speak, Uncle Marc?" 
 
 Uncle Marc, a big, tall, elegant fellow, re- 
 plied in a singing voice : " Because I have 
 nothing to say. When I have spoken before, 
 your mother has silenced me. Therefore " 
 
 " That's true, but as she is not here " 
 
 " Well, as that is so, I will say that you 
 have spoken the truth, my poor Chiffon ; and 
 as I cannot sustain you in it, I say nothing."
 
 16 Cbtffon's flfcarrfage. 
 
 " How good you are !" 
 
 " Oh, excellent ! but let me be quiet now, 
 little tease," and rising quickly, he pushed 
 Coryse away, who was climbing on his knee 
 like a little baby. 
 
 She asked him in the most surprised way 
 why he had treated her in this manner. 
 
 " Because you are too big for such monkey 
 tricks at your age ! Is this good manners?" 
 
 " How manners! Can I never get on your 
 knee again?" and with a funny expression, 
 " Ah ! if you were not my uncle !" 
 
 Marc de Bray replied peevishly : " That is 
 true, I am not!" 
 
 "Oh, how wicked you are to say that!" 
 throwing herself on the sofa she buried her 
 face in the cushions and sobbed. 
 
 " Oh ! what is the matter with the little one? 
 She cries now about everything I cannot 
 bear it." 
 
 " Be a little indulgent," his brother said. 
 " She is in bad spirits about her marriage." 
 
 " 1 quite understand that !" 
 
 " Take care that she does not hear you. 
 She will send poor Aubieres to the devil 
 forever !"
 
 Cbfffon's dftarrfage. 17 
 
 " Very well ! You are not going to allow 
 this unnatural union, are you?" 
 
 " Her mother wishes it so muchT 
 
 " She is foolish ! Aubieres is twenty-five 
 years older than Chiffon !" 
 
 " Well, the little Liron adores you, and she 
 is twenty years younger." 
 
 "I will admit that she adores me to-day, 
 but to-morrow?" 
 
 " I can also remind you of our mother, who 
 was twenty-five years younger than her hus- 
 band and yet adored him passionately." 
 
 " Such cases are rare, yet Chiffon is not 
 happy, and that is quite plain." He went 
 over to the divan, and putting his arm around 
 her rosy neck he said affectionately : " I ask 
 pardon, Chiffon, for giving you pain." 
 
 She raised her eyes and said : " Why were 
 you so wicked to say that you were not my 
 uncle?" 
 
 " Because, although I love you as much, 
 yet I am not. I am the brother of the hus- 
 band of your mother; I am nothing to you. 
 I could marry you if I was not the age of 
 d'Aubieres that you have sent off." 
 
 " Oh !" the child answered, stupefied, " you
 
 18 Cbtffon'0 
 
 the age of M. d'Aubieres? You are not as 
 shrunken as he, as the men say at Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe. The other day I was talking in the 
 street with a man who said that to me, to ex 
 plain that his wife, was a little gassee." 
 
 " What !" the marquis said, " you have 
 talked in the street with a man ! What man?" 
 
 " A good man that I met returning from my 
 ride with old John. I think he was a sweeper 
 or a rag-picker." 
 
 " Oh, if your mother knew this!" 
 
 " Yes, I know what she would say, but she 
 did not see me," and turning suddenly to her 
 Uncle Marc she asked him, "Are you my 
 Uncle Marc or not? Five years I have called 
 you uncle, and I believe you are. Papa is 
 papa, is he not? Then you can give me ad- 
 vice. Shall I or shall I not marry M. d'Au- 
 bieres?" 
 
 " Now, that is a very embarrassing ques- 
 tion." 
 
 "Well, if you were in my place, what 
 would you do?" 
 J 4 In your place I would wait." 
 
 "it is precisely because I am waiting 
 that "
 
 Gbitton's flbarrfage. 19 
 
 * Before saying no, I would see him some- 
 times and reflect." 
 
 " Ah ! you think seeing him oftener would 
 change my mind? I think the contrary." 
 
 "Aubieres is clever, he is good and well 
 born; he cannot fail to improve on longer 
 acquaintance; without being rich he has a 
 nice fortune and an historic name." 
 
 " Oh, I know *hat he is historic. I have 
 heard that so often, but I have an historic 
 name also; one is not apt to long for things 
 they have, but those they have not." 
 
 " What is it you wish?" 
 
 She thought a moment and said firmly: 
 " Much love or if that is impossible, much 
 money ! There would not be a poor person 
 in Pont-sur-Sarthe ; do you see? Then I 
 would buy pictures and beautiful horses ; and 
 I would have a concert every night. Ah ! no 
 one would be bored in my house." 
 
 " Bored ! if your mother heard you 1" 
 
 " Yes, but she does not hear me !" 
 
 A servant opened the door. "The mar- 
 chioness wishes to speak to the marquis before 
 dinner, and also to the count, and wishes Miss 
 Coryse to go and dress."
 
 20 Cbfffon's flfcarrtage. 
 
 " Dress !" Coryse said ; " is she to have com- 
 pany?" Then turning with a laugh to her 
 step-father and uncle, " This is for d' Aubi- 
 eres, and she wants us to make an impres- 
 sion. Go quickly, and I will put on my old 
 pink dress; it is less pretty and more soiled 
 than this, but it is for the evening." 
 
 She looked at M. de Bray, who went out 
 followed by his brother, and with eyes full of 
 tears she murmured: "Nevermind! it is hard 
 that the two beings who really love me are 
 nothing, nothing to me." 
 
 When her step-father turned to reply, she 
 repeated, "'The only two!' This is not ex- 
 actly right ; I forgot Uncle Albert and Aunt 
 Matilda, and they are something to me !" 
 
 All at once taken with a sudden idea, she ran 
 quickly under her father's arm, who still held 
 the knob of the door, and laughingly she 
 said: "I dine with them this evening. Tell 
 my mother if she has forgotten it," and she 
 ran down the steps.
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 CHIFFON bounded up to her room, threw a 
 hat upon her blonde head, and in going into 
 the office met old John, who was putting on 
 a pair of cotton gloves, with oaths. They 
 were too narrow for his big hands. 
 
 " Be quick ! Come along and take me to 
 my Aunt Matilda's." 
 
 " My young lady, you forget we have com- 
 pany at home to dinner, and I must open the 
 door; they are arriving now." 
 
 " Oh, you will have time. You can get 
 back soon, and we will run all the way." 
 
 " Ah, can we run in this heat? That would 
 be very ladylike to run." 
 
 He finished putting on his gloves. Coryse 
 took him by the arm, hurrying him along 
 quickly. The good man, holding out his fin- 
 gers with admiration, asked if she had per- 
 mission? 
 
 " Oh, I am going without it Come along." 
 
 M
 
 22 Cbiffon's flbatriage. 
 
 " I guess you have told the truth, you 
 have not." 
 
 " But if I have, from papa?" 
 
 " Oh, that does not mean anything, the per- 
 mission of the marquis." 
 
 In going across the dining-room she stopped 
 suddenly, looking at the covers. " There are 
 several to dine; I thought M. d'Aubieres 
 was the only one." 
 
 She asked John where he was going. 
 
 " To get my helmet, which is hanging up 
 in the saddle-room. I will soon catch up to 
 you." 
 
 He joined Coryse, who got over the ground 
 with long strides, and began to walk behind 
 her. All at once she turned back and asked 
 him if he knew M. d'Aubieres? 
 
 " Do you like him, John?" 
 
 " I think he is a fine colonel !" 
 
 " They want me to marry himT' 
 
 The old coachman's comic face made the 
 little girl laugh, "It cannot be true ; he is 
 old enough to be your father!" 
 
 "That makes no difference.' they want it. 
 It is my mother's wish !" 
 
 The good fellow, who knew the tastes of
 
 Cbfffon'd ftatrfage. 38 
 
 his mistress, said: "He has a great name, 
 this Duke d'Aubieres!" 
 
 " Come, John, walk by my side ; you give 
 me a stiff neck turning around so often." 
 
 " I cannot do that, Miss Coryse ; the mar- 
 chioness has especially forbidden it. She 
 says that I must walk five steps behind when 
 in the street with you." 
 
 " That is for others, not for you, who are 
 almost my nurse. We must not have all this 
 etiquette between us why, we are already 
 here !" 
 
 John looked at the old granite house op- 
 posite, which threw its dark shadow on the 
 street, and said, heaving a big sigh : " There 
 is a fine house where one can be happy with 
 good masters. Not that I wish to say any- 
 thing about the marquis who could be bet- 
 ter than he? but he cannot always do what 
 he wishes, while M. and Mm^. de Launay 
 always wish the same thing." 
 
 " Are you sorry to have left them?" 
 
 " No, Miss Coryse, for I am with you, but 
 when you marry the Duke d'Aubieres or 
 some one else, I won't stay long with the 
 marchioness. But I am tired pitying myself
 
 84 Cbiffon'5 dfcarriage, 
 
 to you In this way, because you are more to 
 be pitied than I am. I can go when I wish, 
 but you cannot." 
 
 After a little silence the good fellow, still 
 harping upon the same idea, said: "Do you 
 think Mme. de Launay would take me back? 
 You know I left her to be with you, Miss 
 Coryse, and their horses are not so fat or so 
 shiny as they used to be." 
 
 " But you know that you will stay with me 
 always, John, and when I go I will take you 
 with me." 
 
 She raised the knocker of the porte cochere 
 and jumped over the big bar. The old coach- 
 man leaned toward her with his eyes full of 
 tears : 
 
 " What, Miss Coryse ! do you wish in youff 
 service an old man like me, who is ugly and 
 not stylish?" 
 
 " Oh yes, nurse, you please me, and you 
 are true if not handsome." 
 
 Letting fall the knocker of the door she 
 called out to him to wait, and in a laughing 
 way, without noticing his terrified expression, 
 said : " You know you will not be too well 
 received at the house.**
 
 Cbtffon's flbarrfage. 25 
 
 Chiffon's entrance in the de Launay dining- 
 room was an event, Aunt Matilda and Uncle 
 Albert jumped up to receive her with de- 
 light, and the servant gave a satisfied grunt. 
 
 Everybody adored Chiffon in that old house 
 where she had spent her early days, and 
 where she returned whenever she could es- 
 cape from home. She was ten years old 
 when her mother married the second time 
 and took her from the old couple who had 
 looked upon her as their child. It was a ter- 
 rible wrench for them, and for the child also, 
 who was alarmed for her future. She was 
 forever scolded by her mother, but petted by 
 the old uncle and aunt from the time she first 
 knew them. Tossed about and teased by 
 successive wheedling and bad treatment from 
 Madame d'Avesnes, Coryse, though gay in 
 disposition, became sad by reflection and 
 lived in a state of perpetual unhappiness. 
 
 Seated in her little chair with her eyes 
 fixed upon the portraits of her family in their 
 stiff old-fashioned gowns, she dreamed and 
 thought. She thought it was good to live 
 and to laugh, to roll on the carpet or on the 
 grass so full of sunlight and joy. She thought
 
 28 Cbfffon's 
 
 it was delightful to talk with the dogs, the 
 horses, the birds, and the flowers. But all 
 this could not last; some day, perhaps to-mor- 
 row, you would hear the noise of a carriage, 
 and Uncle Albert would put his arm tenderly 
 around her and say with some embarrass- 
 ment: 
 
 " My little Chiffon, your mother has come 
 for you and you must go and meet her with 
 Claudine." 
 
 They never told her of these visits in ad- 
 vance, knowing that she would not eat or 
 sleep. She had many crying spells, but could 
 brace up at the last moment and appear re- 
 signed to her fate. She only thought of 
 obeying her uncle, and would take a corner 
 of Claudine's apron and go down with a brave 
 air to meet her mother. 
 
 The Breton woman would encourage her in 
 her coarse voice: "Come on, Chiffon, thou 
 must do what is right." 
 
 " You must do what is right also, and not 
 say 'thee,' and 'thou' to me but miss; don't 
 forget this." 
 
 Certainly these scenes greatly embittered 
 the child. The sight of Aunt Matilda quietly
 
 Cbfffon's flbatrfaee. 27 
 
 crying in her room, or a discharged servant 
 dragging her trunk in the hall, was enough to 
 keep her little eyes wide open all night. 
 She was ever expecting the coming of the 
 carriage, even when she played or was look- 
 ing lovingly at the water and the flowers. 
 
 For many years Chiffon had lived happily 
 in this way, but also much preoccupied and 
 not forgetting the bad days past and to come, 
 and always anticipating some rude shock. 
 The announcement of the marriage of her 
 mother was to a degree a matter of indiffer- 
 ence, but she became alarmed when she felt 
 that she must leave this old home and the 
 dear old relatives who had reared her. She 
 had seen the Marquis de Bray on horseback 
 with his brother Marc, and she thought him 
 very handsome and distinguished. But the 
 fear that he might be like her mother filled 
 her with alarm. She was perfect mistress of 
 herself and kept her fears from others. When 
 Mme. d'Avesnes announced to her that ma- 
 ternal love alone induced this marriage, and 
 that interest for her future had decided her, 
 Coryse was perfectly silent. When M. de 
 Bray came to visit her mother and wanted to
 
 28 Cbfffon's Carriage, 
 
 meet her, she would run off and hide in the 
 bottom of the garden among the bushes. 
 
 Pale and with pinched lips she attended 
 the wedding in the cathedral, understanding 
 that the last remembrance of her poor father 
 was gone forever. With this bitterness at 
 heart the little girl went to her new home. 
 M. de Bray loved Chiffon at once, but guess- 
 ing her thoughts he did not try too hurriedly 
 to prove them. The bad temper of his wife 
 soon brought it about. Disgusted with her 
 noise and tears and insane gestures, these two 
 beings, gay and good, sought each other as a 
 solace, were constantly together, and Chiffon 
 was only happy when near her step-father. 
 
 The child tried to hide her terror of her 
 mother, and affected a supercilious, almost 
 impertinent air while her teeth were chatter- 
 ing and knees trembling. One evening she 
 betrayed herself. Followed by her mother 
 in a great passion she took hold of the banis- 
 ters and slid down suddenly into the library. 
 Thinking she was alone she planted herself 
 against the door, breathless and in an agony, 
 listening for her mother. 
 
 Marc de Bray, who lived with his brother.
 
 Gbfffon's Carriage. 29 
 
 was smoking in a big chair by a lamp. He 
 spoke softly to the little girl. She went back 
 a little, displeased at being surprised at this 
 moment of weakness. 
 
 " Ah, you are there, are you?" 
 
 Marc replied : " Yes, Miss Corysande, I am 
 here. Do I disturb you?" 
 
 Chiffon, who never lied, said, " Yes, you 
 have seen me frightened, and I don't like 
 that." 
 
 He began to laugh, and looked at the child 
 affectionately. " You are really a pretty 
 Chiffon! Were you afraid of a ghost or a 
 cannon-ball? I must tell you that this is un- 
 worthy of a descendent of the Avesnes; but 
 your mother ! Oh, my child ! I am an old and 
 bearded man, and I am afraid of her so I 
 understand your position." 
 
 Coryse with great confidence said : " You 
 don't seem afraid." 
 
 " No, I do not seem afraid when she is 
 here ; that would give her too much pleasure, 
 but after I displease her I am in a tremble all 
 over. This morning when she attacked poor 
 Joseph I could hardly contain myself, but 
 stifled my feelings and ran into the vesti-
 
 80 Cbiffon's Aatrtage. 
 
 bule." Then becoming serious, he said: 
 " Come, Chiffon, you should tell my brother 
 all these things ; yes ! you should tell him all 
 your sorrows and fears." 
 " Uncle Marc, what could he do?" 
 " Well, he is the master, after all." 
 Chiffon opened her eyes widely and said, 
 " That is not so !" 
 
 Marc de Bray burst out laughing; "Yes, I 
 am not surprised that you think so. Your 
 step-father has a horror of scenes and discus- 
 sions; he prefers always to yield when the 
 matter concerns himself. When the affair 
 touches you it is quite different. He was 
 your father's friend and loves you dearly." 
 He leaned toward her and added : " I also, 
 little Chiffon, love you tenderly, and if we 
 have not talked of this before, it has been the 
 difficulty of being alone." 
 
 When his brother came into the room he 
 said: "Come, Peter, say to Chiffon that we 
 are her friends, and I think this evening she 
 will believe us." 
 
 From this moment a great affection opened 
 in the closed heart of the child, and she lived 
 more peacefully.
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. SI 
 
 " How is it that you have come this even- 
 ing, Chiffon?" her uncle Albert asked; "I 
 thought you had company at home." 
 
 She winked at them and made a funny 
 face. " Bo you mean M. d'Aubieres?" With- 
 out giving them time to reply she said : " If 
 you were in my place would you marry M. 
 d'Aubieres?" 
 
 " Oh, Chiffon !" Aunt Matilda said, timidly, 
 at the same time looking at the servant who 
 brought another plate. 
 
 "Oh, that makes no difference! M. d'Au- 
 bieres is going to propose to me at four 
 o'clock. This evening numbers in the town 
 will know it, and to-morrow my mother will 
 tell the rest. That will look well in Pont- 
 sur-Sarthe; and they say there are eighty 
 thousand inhabitants. This will not prevent 
 its going around the town. You knew it? 
 that M. d'Aubieres wanted to marry me?" 
 
 " Yes, we heard it from your mother, who 
 came to tell us and invite us to her house this 
 evening." 
 
 " Oh yes, they wish to present him to the 
 family and force me to say yes I" 
 
 Her aunt protested, telling her that & pre-
 
 83 Cbfffon's dfcarriage, 
 
 sentation was unnecessary, as she had known, 
 him for a long time since he was in garrison 
 here. 
 
 " It was a year ago the first time that Uncle 
 Marc brought him to dinner ; he talked all 
 the time about hunting and bored me dread- 
 fully. I was then in short dresses." 
 
 " Chiffon, that is a big word for you." 
 
 " What ! bored? are you so particular, Aunt 
 Matilda?" 
 
 " It is you who are not, my dear. Your 
 mother is right you have the manners of 
 a boy and talk like the children in the 
 streets." 
 
 " Indeed, they were the only amusement I 
 had. It is not my fault if I could not find a 
 word to say to my De Lussy cousins, nor to 
 the little daughters of the general who came 
 to lunch with me in silk dresses and curled 
 hair. It was useless for me to try. I leaned 
 on my arms and laughed foolishly at myself 
 because I could not talk. They talked and 
 they tried to teach me, but I did not under- 
 stand them. It was so funny they seemed 
 to be playing a comedy. Is it not so, Uncle 
 Albert? Do you see the point?"
 
 Cbifton's Carriage. 3 
 
 " Oh yes, I see it; but eat your beef before 
 it gets cold." 
 
 " Oh, this beef is so good! one more thing 
 that they do not have at the house." 
 
 " Your mother does not like it, I suppose?" 
 
 "Oh, not that; she says it is only for the 
 masses, and that condemns it at once, 
 whether a dish or something else." 
 
 " Yes, eat it, it is good." 
 
 " Meantime you have givdn me no advice." 
 
 " About what?" 
 
 " M. d'Aubieres, of course." 
 
 " In this case, my child, you should decide 
 /or yourself. M. d'Aubieres pleases your 
 mother, and it is for you to say if he pleases 
 you." 
 
 " I do like him very much, but I have never 
 thought of him in this light." 
 
 "You must see him again many times. 
 This will be easy, as he comes so often to 
 your mother's house. You can study him 
 well." 
 
 " What must I do when I have studied him 
 well?" 
 
 " You will know then how to answer him." 
 
 " I will answer him : ' Shut up I' "
 
 84 abfffon's dfcarrfage. 
 
 " What?" 
 
 Chiffon began to laugh. 
 
 * Shut up? How funny, Aunt Matilda, to 
 hear you say that ! It is a word which means, 
 Go about your business! Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " Do you think that I can understand slang 
 at my age?" 
 
 " You say it very well, end you sometimes 
 use expressions like 'bored.'" 
 
 41 1 should not say this, I am sorry !" 
 
 " Oh no ! at these moments I love you best. 
 I like this in M. d'Aubieres, my way of talk- 
 ing does not shock him." 
 
 Aunt Matilda then asked her what was the 
 advice of her father and uncle on this ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Papa says very little about it ; he contents 
 himself with praising M. d'Aubieres. Uncle 
 Marc tells me to wait, and then when he 
 thinks that I am not listening, I am crying in 
 a corner." 
 
 The old couple exclaimed, " Crying?" 
 
 "Put yourselves in my place; if you 
 thought it was all arranged. It was not for 
 that alone when they thought that I was not
 
 Cbtffon'8 /Carriage. 88 
 
 listening they talked about their many friends 
 who adored each other notwithstanding the 
 twenty and twenty-five years' difference in 
 their ages." 
 
 " Did they speak of us?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Chiffon, I was eighty-one yesterday, and 
 your aunt is only sixty." 
 
 "Ah, you are all right as you are," taking 
 the arm of her old uncle to go into the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " I ordered the carriage at half-past eight," 
 Mme. de Lannay said, " and I must go and 
 dress." 
 
 " The carriage to go two hundred yards?" 
 She went on, brightly : " I bet that is not 
 your own idea." 
 
 " It was your mother who asked us." 
 
 " Oh yes, to come in your carriage and 
 show your fine horses. This is to dazzle M. 
 d'Aubieres. She always puts her foot in it." 
 
 While the De Launays were getting ready 
 to go out, Chiffon, seated in her arm-chair, 
 looked affectionately at the big drawing-room 
 where she used to play. She loved the old 
 Empire furniture covered with Utrecht yel-
 
 86 CbftTon'0 
 
 low velvet, the little low bookcase of white 
 wood where she often put her playthings; 
 and the beautiful Louis Sixteenth wainscot- 
 ing so intact and bright with its satyrs and 
 nymphs playing with each other in the woods 
 Claudine, the nurse, called them " men and 
 women- chasing each other on the wall," 
 and the old clock with its eagles; and the 
 urns of Sevres china, charming but tiresome. 
 
 Chiffon loved to recall the happy home of 
 her childhood, and when called to go said 
 with emphasis, " It is good to be here !" 
 
 On arriving at the Brays' she ran upstairs, 
 saying: " You will tell them that I am dress- 
 ing. I could not go in as I am ; I will weaf 
 my old pink dress."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON entering the beautifully lighted room, 
 Coryse stopped and looked with her near- 
 sighted glasses upon the company seated 
 around in a circle. She stopped a moment, 
 uncertain whom she should first address. 
 Then she walked toward an old but distin- 
 guished-looking woman, and bowed respect- 
 fully to her. 
 
 The Countess de Jarville pleased Coryse 
 for many reasons. She thought her aristo- 
 cratic in spite of her modest air, and believed 
 her to be intelligent and good. Madame de 
 Bray hated this old woman, a distant relative 
 of her husband, who was not an ornament in 
 her rooms with her pale face and faded 
 gowns. This hatred was enough to give 
 Chiffon a sympathy for her. 
 
 " Corysande, come here," her mother said 
 in a commanding tone " Come and speak to 
 Madame de Bassigny." 
 
 37 i
 
 83 Cbfffon's 
 
 Madame de Bassigny was the wife of a 
 colonel, and Chiffon's horror. She was a rich 
 but affected woman who tried to vex and 
 humiliate all the military people in Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe, and punish the officers who neglected 
 her reception day. 
 
 The little girl replied to her mother with 
 indifference and said that she would come 
 when she had spoken to Mme. de Jarville. 
 
 The marchioness looked at her daughter 
 with her most furious expression, while M. 
 d'Aubiere's good blue eyes were filled with 
 admiration and love. He also detested the 
 wife of his colleague, and he was delighted 
 at Chiffon's coolness to her. This thin wo- 
 man, who he said had a beak in her elbow 
 and a stoop in her back bad as the itch, 
 talkative as a magpie, and tricky as a con- 
 cierge; who abused the pretty women and 
 laughed at the ugly and poor ones, he had a 
 horror of her. Too honest to hide his repul- 
 sion entirely, he treated her with the most 
 distant politeness. 
 
 At first Mme. de Bassigny was so anxious 
 to attract this distinguished bachelor, who 
 bore such a great name, that she was most
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrtafle. 89 
 
 amiable to him. She tried to have the most 
 agreeable and popular salon in Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe, and she knew that the presence of 
 the Duke d'Aubieres was indispensable to 
 establish this supremacy. A duke is always 
 a great personage, and especially so in the 
 provinces. 
 
 As soon as Colonel d'Aubieres arrived it 
 was whispered, " This is probably a duke of 
 the Empire," and he was looked upon with 
 curiosity; but when they learned that old M. 
 de Blamont had ascertained from the library 
 that the title of d'Aubieres dated from the 
 revision of 1667, the curiosity became ad- 
 miration. And as the duke made so fine an 
 appearance, with his beautiful horses, well 
 mounted, and phaeton, and little house for 
 himself all alone, they said, full of pretty 
 things, in the ninth quarter, near the termi- 
 nus he became an object of interest to the 
 mothers, widows, and all the young belles of 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe. Notwithstanding all the 
 amiable attentions of Colonel and Madame 
 Bassigny he remained ceremonious and re- 
 served, contented to be polite and nothing 
 more. More fortunate than her friend, Ma-
 
 40 Cbfffon's 
 
 dame de Bray had the pleasure of producing 
 the duke in her drawing-room. He was very 
 intimate with her brother-in-law Marc, who 
 brought him to the house, not fearing this 
 time but that his distinguished friend would 
 be well received. 
 
 All the young women looked upon Madame 
 de Bray as somewhat passee, but still attrac- 
 tive, yet they paid great court to the duke, 
 who looked upon them with indifference. 
 He guessed at once some of Chiffon's troubles, 
 and Uncle Marc told him the rest. So at 
 forty-three he began to love the child of fif- 
 teen, who so often ridiculed and laughed at 
 him. 
 
 When d'Aubieres guessed the secrets of 
 her young heart he thought, " 1 am indeed a 
 fool !" 
 
 Finally after thinking and dreaming of 
 this marriage which at first seemed impos- 
 sible, after a while he said to himself, " Why 
 not? 
 
 The whole evening the poor man was fear- 
 ful, agonized, looking at Chiffon, trying to 
 discover the impression which his offer had 
 made upon her mind. Chiffon obstinately
 
 Cbfffon's jflfcarrtage. 41 
 
 turned hex eyes away from him. After hav- 
 ing said a few words to Madame de Bassigny 
 she talked with a little lank man with a pro- 
 truding forehead and short chin, the Vicomte 
 de Barfleur, descended from one of the oldest 
 families in the county, and who was one of 
 the exquisites of Pont-sur-Sarthe. From the 
 bored look of the young girl the conversation 
 seemed to be without interest for her. M. 
 d'Aubieres was irritated to see her occupied 
 with any one else, and began to take the mat- 
 ter seriously all at once a tall girl, Gene- 
 vieve de Lussy, one of her cousins, said : " Oh, 
 Chiffon! Why did you not come sooner to 
 the study?" 
 
 "What is that?" Madame de Bray asked. 
 " Did she not go to her class?" 
 
 Coryse became very red, and going up to 
 her mother said, " Oh no, I stayed in the gar- 
 den." She turned a supplicating expression 
 toward M. de Bray, and added, "It was so 
 lovely !" 
 
 Up to the age of five Madame de Bray had 
 always addressed her daughter as you, she 
 said the tutoiement among parents and chil- 
 dren dated from the Revolution. It was
 
 42 Cbiffon's /Carriage. 
 
 ignoble and levelled the classes. One fine 
 day on her return from some of her travels 
 she announced that a reciprocal tutoiement was 
 more affectionate ; this way of talking alone 
 denoted intimacy and confidence. All the 
 women of the Faubourg Saint-Germain now 
 indulged in it with their children, and she 
 now exacted it from Coryse. The little girl 
 found it difficult to use the expression so far 
 from her heart and lips. Madame de Bray 
 also forgot it very often, and when carried 
 away in discussion returned to the "you" 
 
 " I have just told you I remained in the 
 garden." 
 
 " Oh, you idled." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " What then have you done?" 
 
 " I looked at the flowers." 
 
 "That is just what I have said!" and with 
 an important air, as if she held herself respon- 
 sible for the proper use of her time and had 
 overlooked her studies " What was the sub- 
 ject to-day, Genevieve?" 
 
 The young girl stopped a moment to re- 
 cover her thoughts, and then said, " We were 
 busy with reproduction." After an over-
 
 Cbtffon's flbarrtage. 43 
 
 whelming silence she added, "With the re- 
 production of shrubs." 
 
 Uncle Marc shrugged his shoulders and 
 said in a low tone, " Chiffon is right to study 
 flowers in the garden ; it does not annoy any 
 one." 
 
 The marchioness, who was quite ignorant 
 of these things, with a very learned and pro- 
 tecting air returned to the tutoiement: 
 
 " Coryse, hast thou understood?" 
 
 The little girl did not reply, but Gene- 
 vieve, addressing her, said, " Tuesday the 
 study is on ' Britannicus. ' ' 
 
 " I will go," Chiffon said. " I love Racine 
 so much !" 
 
 Little Barfleur knew that a man of the 
 world should be au fait on all subjects, and 
 he asked with a polished indifference why 
 she liked Racine so much? 
 
 "I don't know," Chiffon said. " Unless it 
 is that they want me to like Corneille." 
 
 Marc de Bray began to laugh ; his sister-in- 
 law turned upon him furiously and said, " You 
 are trying to make her more ridiculous and 
 unbearable than ever." 
 
 " Me?"
 
 44 Cbttton's /Carriage, 
 
 " Yes, you ! who laugh at all her absurdi- 
 ties as if you found them so funny." 
 
 She continued to scold, when Chiffon, 
 much irritated at this criticism of herself, 
 answered with glistening eyes and nose in 
 the air as in the old days of battle, " I wish 
 you would change the subject of conversa- 
 tion." 
 
 One of the doors of the drawing-room open- 
 ing on the garden was ajar, and without 
 waiting for a reply or to judge of the effect 
 produced- by her speech, she went down the 
 steps to meet Gribouille, her best friend, an 
 enormous dog, short and thick, fierce-looking 
 but good-natured. 
 
 It was a bright night but no moon one of 
 those nights full of humidity and perfume 
 that Coryse loved so much. Followed by 
 Gribouille she went away from the house 
 toward the end of the garden. The subtle 
 odor of the white petunias attracted her, and 
 when she came near the bed so pale in the 
 midst of the grasses she leaned toward it, 
 nostrils expanded, and seized with an intense 
 desire to roll on the sweet flowers that she 
 might breathe better.
 
 <3biffon's fl&arrfage. 45 
 
 But she thought : " I will hurt them '."For 
 Chiffon felt sure that the flowers suffered, 
 and never touched them but with delicacy 
 and extreme care. 
 
 A noise on the walk made Gribouille bark ; 
 and all at once she guessed that it was M. 
 d'Aubieres who was coming in the darkness. 
 
 He asked, " Is it you, Miss Coryse?" and 
 with a timid voice added that he would like 
 to talk to her for a while. 
 
 " Have they told you that " 
 
 She pitied his embarrassment. "Yes; I 
 know that you have asked me in marriage 
 to-day." 
 
 " Well?" he murmured, his voice suffocated. 
 
 " Well ! I did not receive it as you wish, in- 
 deed? That surprises me a little much, if 
 you will let me tell you?" 
 
 " Why? you have not guessed that I have 
 loved you for a long time?" 
 
 " Oh, as to that, no !" 
 
 " It is true ; I have loved you since I knew 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, that is too much; I am sure that I 
 did not make such an impression the first day 
 yes, at dinner. The evening that I sat
 
 next to you; I must have seemed a model! 
 It is true you kept me at the highest pitch 
 with your hunting and your rally papers and 
 all the other thrilling things." 
 
 "But," the poor man stammered, " I don't 
 know what you mean." 
 
 "Be sure that I am grateful to you for not 
 having spoken of this before." 
 
 " How you mock me ! You find me ridicu- 
 lous tiresome." 
 
 She protested with vivacity, " Oh no, not 
 at all ; never ! I like you so much. I am so 
 happy when I see you." 
 
 Joyous, he asked, " Well, but then ?" 
 
 " Yes, when I see you accidentally, but if 
 it was forever forever, all the time " 
 
 " Then J T OU do not wish me?" 
 
 At this question Chiffon wanted to say, 
 No. But this would have ended it, and she 
 guessed so much of his suffering in the chok- 
 ing voice so full of supplication, that she had 
 not the heart to add to the grief of one who 
 loved her so much. So she replied gently, 
 " No I do not say that. I am much flattered, 
 grateful for your affection, but I am such a 
 little girl! I have thought so little upon
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrlage. 47 
 
 grave matters. Give me some time to re- 
 flect, will you? Don't ask me to say yes or 
 no; for then I would say no." 
 
 " I will await your decision, but let me 
 plead my cause a little." And seeing Coryse 
 turn toward the house he followed her, tak- 
 ing her arm gently in his. 
 
 " I beg you to let me have still a few min- 
 utes? Your mother told me to join you here." 
 
 "Ah!" Chiffon said, "I thought so; she 
 cannot leave me in peace." 
 
 In a soft but grave voice M. d'Aubieres 
 said, much agitated : " I appear old to you, 
 but I offer you a young heart which has never 
 been given to any one." 
 
 " Oh !" Coryse replied, " you have never 
 reached this age without loving some one." 
 
 He answered gravely, " What I mean by 
 loving never !" 
 
 " And what do you mean by loving?" 
 
 " I mean to give my heart and my life." 
 
 " Is this not what is always called loving?" 
 
 " No, not always," murmured d'Aubieres. 
 
 "Now," Chiffon said brusquely, "I would 
 like to tell you that I don't believe it." 
 
 " You don't? why?"
 
 48 Cbtffon's dfcarttage. 
 
 " Well, it is a little difficult to explain, but 
 one spring day, when I was riding on horse- 
 back with Uncle Marc in the Crisville wood, 
 I saw you in the distance with a lady. I 
 recognized you at once; there is no one in 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe so tall as you are. You 
 were on foot and a hack followed you one 
 of those funny little hacks from the station. 
 The lady she was one of those women of 
 whom no one speaks except my mother and 
 Madame Bassigny, who calls them damsels. 
 One passes aside from them in the street or 
 circus ; when it is necessary to brush by them 
 it is thought to burn you. Pardon my speak- 
 ing in this way of one of your friends." 
 
 "Me?" the duke protested, half laughing 
 and half sad. 
 
 "Then I said to Uncle Marc, 'There is M. 
 d'Aubieres with the lady we should not 
 talk about' and I forgot to tell you, Paul de 
 Lussy, Genevieve's brother, he also made 
 great fun of this woman. Then Georgette 
 Guilbray, the daughter of your general, 
 showed her to Genevieve one day in the park. 
 The lady said to her, 'She is the' one your 
 brother laughs about,' Genevieve showed
 
 Cblffon's flBarrfage. 49 
 
 her to me also, and I asked papa at breakfast 
 to explain it to me. Oh ! I will never forget 
 it! I can see my mother now jump up and 
 curse me with her napkin, and call me a 
 shameful girl ! I was blue, I did not under- 
 stand what was the matter. Then after break- 
 fast papa led me into the smoking-room, and 
 he told me not to speak of such things, es- 
 pecially before my mother, and besides one 
 should ignore these women, who are a world 
 apart. In the evening this began again with 
 my mother when I went to bed. Indeed, I 
 was never caught in such a snarl in my life. 
 But perhaps it tries you for me to relate all 
 this?" 
 
 " No. I would like only to explain." 
 " Wait until I finish. Then I said to Uncle 
 Marc, 'Look at M. d'Aubieres with the wo- 
 man that no one talks about;' and he said, 
 'You don't know what 'you are talking about. 
 You are as near-sighted as a mole, and you 
 can't see so far away.' Then I offered to run 
 and look, but he did not wish it, and the first 
 path we found crack! he pushed me in so 
 that I could not see the read any longer; and 
 
 this is all now " 
 
 . 4
 
 50 Cbiffon's Carriage. 
 
 "I am going to ex " 
 
 " I have not finished! A month after I was 
 with old John and I saw you with the same 
 woman in nearly the same place. I said to 
 myself, 'This time I will not be like my 
 mother and Madame Bassigny, and I am not 
 afraid of burning myself. I am going to look 
 closely at them ;' and began to trot. 'Miss 
 Coryse,' John said, 'this road is good grazing, 
 the horses want to put their muzzles in it. 
 My advice is to go back from where we 
 came.' I did not listen to him, but at this 
 moment you got into the funny hack and 
 went by the Crisville road. I said to John, 'I 
 want to see where they go;' and he said, 
 'Miss Coryse, that is not the thing for you 
 to do.'" 
 
 " And after?" 
 
 " Afterward I lost you in a cross-road, but 
 I found you again, at the inn at Crisville. 
 Your horse ate the hay and you were first 
 at the window, with the damsel. Then I 
 thought " 
 
 " You have thought?" 
 
 "Yes I thought, as M. d'Aubieres hides 
 in the wood and inns with, a woman
 
 Cblffon's dfcatrlage. 51 
 
 with whom he cannot show himself, it is 
 quite certein that he wishes to see her re- 
 gardless of everything that he loves her! 
 He a colonel, and above all an old man." 
 
 The duke made a motion to explain. 
 
 " Yes ; in comparison with Paul de Lussy, 
 who is only twenty-two, you are old, are you 
 not? In Paul these things would be called 
 foolish." 
 
 " It is terribly dull at Pont-sur-Sarthe ; and 
 one must try and get amusement anyvvhere. 
 I cannot explain to you what you cannot 
 understand, but I can assure you that what- 
 ever you may have -seen or heard of my 
 stupid existence I am worthy of your love, 
 and to be your husband. Never since the 
 day I first saw you I have had no idea of giv- 
 ing my name or heart to any one, and I offer 
 you, nothwithstanding my great age, a love 
 young and pure." Pressing against him the 
 little arm that he had kept under his own, he 
 whispered, " I beg you to let me hope a little?" 
 
 "If I do not reply at once yes," Coryse 
 said frankly, " it is that I do not wish to marry 
 a man that I do not love above all others. I 
 detest the world and its manners 1 I have as
 
 68 Cbtffon's fl&arrfage. 
 
 yet loved Uncle and Aunt de Launay, Uncle 
 Marc, old John, my good dog, and my flow- 
 ers. I want to love my husband tenderly 
 and truly, though I do not yet know what 
 love is." 
 
 M. d'Aubieres stopped a moment and took 
 the child's hands and pressed them to his lips. 
 " I will be dreadfully unhappy if I must give 
 you up." He drew her toward him and she 
 made no resistance, touched by the trembling 
 voice, and all this tenderness. 
 
 " Chiffon," he murmured, " my little Chif- 
 fon !" 
 
 She leaned against his shoulder, dreaming 
 and asking herself if she could not love this 
 man who appeared so good and who loved 
 her so dearly ! 
 
 But M. d'Aubieres, overcome by this little 
 body which abandoned itself to him, ener- 
 vated by the darkness, drunk with the perfume 
 of the flowers and at this hour of the night, 
 completely lost his head. He threw his arms 
 around Coryse and smothered her with kisses. 
 
 The little girl drew away with horror, and 
 as the duke regained his composure she re- 
 proached him for what he had done.
 
 Cbftton'3 Carriage. 68 
 
 * Pardon me, I love you so dearly !** 
 Awakening from a fright which in her in- 
 nocence she could not explain, she replied 
 simply, " I also ask pardon, but I do not wish 
 to be embraced "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " HAVE you seen Chiffon this morning?" M. 
 de Bray asked the marchioness, who entered 
 the library a little before breakfast, where he 
 and his brother were talking together. 
 
 Uncle Marc said that he had met her 
 about nine o'clock in the Benedictines street 
 she was walking very fast followed by old 
 John. The marchioness was very angry at 
 her going without permission. M. de Bray 
 suggested in a conciliating tone that she had 
 probably gone to mass. 
 
 " To mass ! she never goes except on Sun- 
 day." 
 
 Marc was looking out of the window and 
 announced her return with Luce. Luce was 
 the Baroness de Givry, cousin-german of M. 
 de Bray. She came into the library fol- 
 lowed by Chiffon, who entered with her nose 
 in the air, assuming the most indifferent 
 manner. 
 
 54
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. 65 
 
 Without addressing the young woman, 
 the marchioness attacked Coryse with harsh 
 voice and threatening tone, which made the 
 little girl half shut her eyes. 
 " Where have you been?" 
 The child replied, " To Saint Marcien." 
 " What? you never go to mass !" 
 " I have not been to mass." 
 " Well, what have you been doing?" 
 " I have been to see the Abbe Chatel 1" 
 " Why?" 
 
 " Because I had something to tell him." 
 "Ah, indeed! what has he told you?" 
 " Before I tell you what he said to me, I 
 had best tell you what I asked him;" and 
 laughingly she said, " This will be a long 
 story." 
 
 Then the marchioness, addressing Madame 
 de Givry, asked her if they had met at the 
 confessional of the Abbe Chatel. When the 
 young woman told her that he was no longer 
 her confessor, the marchioness expressed sur- 
 prise, telling her she thought she talked of 
 him constantly and could not move a finger 
 without him ; and she wanted to know what 
 had happened.
 
 68 Cbfffon's fl&arrfage. 
 
 Luce de Givry was a tall woman about 
 twenty-eight, bony and brown, entirely de- 
 void of grace. She was celebrated in Pont- 
 sur-Sarthe for her piety and narrowness but 
 tolerant of the views of others, she practised 
 good works, but loved the world passionately, 
 who, as Marc de Bray said, paid her with black 
 ingratitude. Not that she was disagreeable 
 and wanting in intelligence, but she failed to 
 please by reason of little ridiculous ways and 
 by an absolute lack of youth and charm. 
 Women were bored by her rigid views, men 
 could not pardon her want of beauty, and 
 Luce was only appreciated in her family, who 
 loved her for her fine qualities and natural 
 goodness. 
 
 " Let us hear a little that you have said 
 to the abbe," Uncle Marc asked, playing 
 stupid. 
 
 Madame de Givry repeated very gently, 
 " I confess no longer to him." 
 
 " You have quarrelled?" 
 
 " No, we have had no dispute, but he does 
 not wish it." 
 
 " Since when?" Chiffon asked, very much 
 surprised.
 
 Cbiffon's /ftacrfafle. 57 
 
 * Since my ball which I gave at the time of 
 the circus." 
 
 Marc asked what her ball had to do with 
 him? " Is he stupid enough to interfere with 
 such things?" 
 
 " Oh !" Luce replied with animation, " it is 
 not the fault of the poor abbe ; it is my fault. 
 I went the evening before to ask permission 
 of him to give it." 
 
 " What did he say?" 
 
 "He said, 'My child, these things do not 
 concern me. ' " 
 
 " He has fine sense." 
 
 " I insisted, but he wanted to end the mat- 
 ter. He said, 'Don't come to me, a priest, 
 to ask permission to give an entertainment 
 which the Church does not approve. I should 
 not encourage you in these things. ' 'But my 
 husband wishes me to give the ball.' 'Very 
 well; give it and then come and tell me you 
 have done it, and we will arrange matters af- 
 terward. ' ' But, Father, I don't wish to give it 
 without your permission. ' ' Indeed, my child, 
 you place me .in a most awkward position.' " 
 
 " He was right, poor man !" Marc de Bray 
 said laughingly.
 
 68 , Cbiffon's d&arrfage. 
 
 The marchioness declared him to be a 
 hypocrite. She only believed in the Jesuits. 
 
 Coryse was vexed to hear the old abbe 
 called a hypocrite ; she loved him so much. 
 
 "Well," her mother said, "it is not his 
 place to excite the people of Pont-sur-Sarthe 
 to revolt." 
 
 And, turning to Madame de Givry, she said 
 that she could not understand her spending 
 her life in going to balls and without permis- 
 sion. 
 
 " But I have got it." 
 
 " How?" 
 
 " It is just what I said to the Abbe Chatel, 
 'since you let me go to balls?' He replied, 
 'My child, I have nothing to do with it; a 
 ball gives more opportunity to sin than many 
 other things. When you give a ball you give 
 the opportunity to others to sin ; you are in a 
 certain way responsible for it, but on the 
 contrary, when you do not go to a ball you 
 not only refrain from sinning yourself, but 
 give no occasion to others. ' That makes you 
 laugh?" to Marc, who had rolled over on the 
 sofa. " All the invitations had gone out, we 
 had only two days. When I returned home
 
 Cbiffon's fllbarrafse. 59 
 
 I said to Hubert and mamma that the Abbe 
 Chatel had refused permission." 
 
 " Did they put their heads together?" 
 Coryse asked. 
 
 " Yes, mamma told me that I was foolish 
 to speak of this to the abbe. Hubert was 
 furious. He said, 'Well, we won't give the 
 ball, but as we are no longer in mourning, I 
 don't see why we should receive politeness 
 from people and not return it.' Then the 
 good Providence had pity on me and in- 
 spired me with the thought to go to Father 
 Ragon." 
 
 " Ah, indeed !" Coryse said with a grimace. 
 
 " Father Ragon was charming. When I 
 told him about the Abbe Chatel and ex- 
 plained to him the object of my visit, he 
 asked me what was said about it in the gos- 
 pel 'A woman should obey her husband.' 
 'Your husband wishes you to give a ball; 
 God wishes it.' " 
 
 " Oh !" Coryse said, " how many things are 
 put upon the Lord!" 
 
 " I was delighted, and ran at once to the 
 Abbe Chatel and told him that I had con- 
 fessed to Father Ragon and that he had given
 
 60 Cbfffon's .flfcarrfage. 
 
 me permission. He said, 'Well, my child, 
 you are satisfied with Father Ragon;' but I 
 was not very enthusiastic for fear of wound- 
 ing him. He told me to go to him in the 
 future, for he had never seen any one in the 
 confessional as stupid as I was." 
 
 " Did he say stupid? He learned that 
 from me," Coryse said with a laugh. " The 
 poor abbe is so good and so funny !" 
 
 " Don't you know, Luce," said Marc de 
 Bray, " that you should not tell these things." 
 
 "Why?" his cousin asked innocently. 
 
 " Because you make yourself ridiculous, 
 and the abbe also." Marc thought the fear 
 of harming the old confessor would induce 
 her to stop rather than the fear of hurting 
 herself. 
 
 The marchioness said : " The Abbe Chatel 
 comes from the people; he knows nothing, 
 he has no delicacy, no idea of the world, and 
 naturally Coryse chooses him for her confes- 
 sor." 
 
 " The Abbe Chatel is no longer my confes- 
 sor," her daughter replied. 
 
 " And since when, I beg you to tell me?" 
 
 " For three or four years since you took
 
 Cbfffon's jflBarrfage. 61 
 
 no longer any interest in me, and I had to go 
 out with John; since my first communion." 
 
 " Oh 1" her mother replied, feeling ashamed 
 of her ignorance of her child's movements; 
 " you go to his house continually. What is 
 it for, if not to confess?" 
 
 " He is my confidential friend. I love him 
 dearly ; he is true and safe, and I tell him all 
 my little troubles those that I should tell 
 you." 
 
 Her mother, much vexed, asked to whom 
 she confessed at present? 
 
 She replied, " To no one." 
 
 And, noticing her mother's expression, she 
 added : " To every one, if you wish to know ; 
 sometimes to one and sometimes to another. 
 I go to St. Marcien, to the cathedral, to the 
 new chapel, to Our Lady of the Lilies in- 
 deed I go around to all the parishes, and 
 as there are at least three priests to every 
 parish I have a good margin. I confess 
 about six times a year; that will do for a 
 long time, and when I have finished I begin 
 again." 
 
 " This child is mad! absolutely mad!" the 
 marchioness cried out, and with a sad air,
 
 63 Cbiffon's Carriage. 
 
 " She goes to the right and to the left, in- 
 stead of choosing an intelligent director." 
 
 "A director indeed! that is just what 1 
 don't want. I do what I think right as I 
 understand it. We are told to confess, but 
 not ordered to give up our lives to it. To 
 those also that we meet in society, away 
 from the church it is horrible to me to mix 
 these relations as salad. I find it grotesque 
 and disgusting." 
 
 "This is absurd," the marchioness said. 
 " You might as well not consult a doctor foi 
 fear of meeting him in society." 
 
 " This is not a parallel case." 
 
 "It is exactly the same thing: to one you 
 show your soul, to the other your body, 
 which is worse?" 
 
 "Very well; as far as I am concerned 1 
 would rather it should be my body than my 
 soul." 
 
 " Say no more," her mother commanded 
 with one of her dramatic gestures; " you are 
 a horrible creature, a girl without modesty." 
 
 Coryse replied gently : " I understand mod- 
 esty differently. Oh, it is a funny word! I 
 don't like to use it. \Vhat a hateful sound 1"
 
 Gbifton'0 /iBarrfacje, 68 
 
 " Hush ! I charge you to hush !" 
 
 " Charge you !" Coryse looked with a satiri- 
 cal smile tipon her uncle's frank face, while 
 the fury of his sister-in-law was turned upon 
 him: 
 
 "Yes! you may laugh! That comes well 
 from you who are responsible in part for this 
 tone which Coryse assumes." 
 
 Marc de Bray did not reply, as usual in 
 these cases; and the marchioness, made 
 more furious by his silence, went on: "Yes 
 it is well that you are silent, as you are 
 the cause of my learning nothing from this 
 child; it is true that her nature is bad, 
 but " 
 
 Madame de Givry rose to go, anticipating 
 a scene, and turning toward Coryse (not dar- 
 ing to address Madame de Bray) said : " I 
 am so distressed ; it is all my fault. I spoke 
 of the Abbe Chatel and all this has fol- 
 lowed." 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" Coryse said, looking at her 
 mother, " this happens always ; you did not 
 bring it about." 
 
 She wanted to escape and ran behind her 
 cousin, but the marchioness called her with a
 
 64 Cbffton's dfcarriage* 
 
 voice more shrill than ever to remain in the 
 room ; she wanted to speak to her. 
 
 Without saying a word Chiffon took her 
 seat. 
 
 Her mother then asked what answer should 
 be given to the Duke d'Aubieres. 
 
 " None. I will answer him myself." 
 
 " But I am your mother and have a right to 
 know your decision." 
 
 " I have not decided to marry M. d'Aubieres 
 and I am sorry, for I like him so much." 
 
 "This is madness! You will never have 
 such an opportunity again." 
 
 " Very well ; I repeat, it would be wrong 
 in me to say yes against my heart. I have 
 thought well upon it and I have decided " 
 
 " It is the Abbe Chatel who has prompted 
 you to do this?" 
 
 " I have explained all this to the abbe and 
 he approves entirely, but suggested nothing; 
 on the contrary he advised me to wait a little 
 longer before deciding." 
 
 The marchioness thought a moment and, 
 turning to her daughter, became pathetically 
 tender: 
 
 " Corysande ! my beloved child ! I have
 
 Cbfffon's dBarrfage, 65 
 
 only you in the world; you are my only love 
 at\d joy. I have lived only for you, since 
 the day of your birth." 
 
 Chiffon was accustomed to her mother's 
 poetical flights, yet always felt a vague sur- 
 prise in the presence of this formidable 
 woman. She listened, mouth open, eyes 
 glistening, but with head bent, fearing that 
 she might laugh if she encountered the 
 marchioness's amazed expression and Uncle 
 Marc's jocular look. 
 
 Her mother added: "You have always 
 been an ungrateful child and I expect noth- 
 ing from you, but for your own interest I beg 
 you to reflect and not decide so quickly." 
 
 Chiffon told her that she had thought 
 deeply on the matter, and all those that 
 she had consulted told her to decide for her- 
 self. 
 
 The marchioness wrung her hands tragi- 
 cally. " I beg you for the last time to wait 
 before replying, and talk the matter over 
 with intelligent people;" with an indifferent 
 air, " Father Ragon, for example !" 
 
 "Indeed!" Coryse said, half laughing and 
 half angry, " you think he will find it q, 
 5
 
 66 Cbiffon's Carriage. 
 
 "subtle case something like the De Luce 
 ball?" 
 
 " Do you wish me to get on my knees to 
 you?" 
 
 " No, thank you. I don't wish that ! I will 
 see Father Ragon when you wish. I don't 
 care ! only it was easier for him to stop the 
 affairs of De Luce and of God than those of 
 M. d'Aubieres and myself." 
 
 " Will you promise me to go and see Father 
 Ragon to-day?" 
 
 " Yes, I promise you." 
 
 "Will you listen to his advice?". 
 
 " I will listen, but don't say that I will fol- 
 low it." 
 
 " What did you say to M. d'Aubieres yes- 
 terday afternoon?" 
 
 "I told him the truth that I loved him 
 very much, but not enough to marry him; 
 but I would reflect upon it." 
 
 " And what did he say?" 
 
 " He kissed me, and that was very disagree- 
 able." 
 
 "Because it was the first time, and it 
 frightened you?" 
 
 "No, indeed; not the least in the world.
 
 Cbiffon's flBarrtagc. 67 
 
 It had a very overpowering effect upon me, 
 that was all; and to show that I was not 
 frightened I told him of this effect." 
 
 " Oh, you told him?" 
 
 " Poor d' Aubieres 1" Uncle Marc laughingly 
 put in. 
 
 At this moment the servant announced 
 breakfast. Soon after, when Coryse was 
 pouring coffee, Madame de Bray went out 
 suddenly from the library. 
 
 Coryse, noticing this sudden flight, said: 
 " She is going to take a lesson from Father 
 Ragon ! It is useless I have a horror of him, 
 with his sly expression, and smiles borrowed 
 from old coquettes who try to hide their black 
 teeth." 
 
 The marquis, always kind, tried to per- 
 suade her against her hasty opinion. 
 
 She answered firmly, " I have no respect 
 for him." 
 
 Uncle Marc and M. de Bray began to laugh; 
 the manner in which Chiffon talked of a man 
 so intelligent and powerful, who led all the 
 women and most of the men in Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe, seemed to them like a play. 
 
 The little girl blushed. " You are laugh-
 
 68 Cbfffon's flfcarrlage. 
 
 ing at me, because I used the word respect; 
 it is a little pompous, but I know of no word 
 which expresses better what I think." 
 
 M. de Bray protested. " Oh no, my little 
 Chiffon, we were not laughing at you. 
 Come, tell us all the Abbe Chatel said to 
 you." 
 
 " It was I, rather, who told him something. ** 
 
 "What was it? the proposal from M. 
 d'Aubieres?" 
 
 "Oh no; it was about the kissing; the 
 affair of yesterday afternoon." 
 
 " Indeed ! so you call that an affair?" 
 
 "Indeed it was of importance to me! for 
 the moment he began with these things I 
 leaned toward 'yes;' a little later and it 
 would have been that. But it all fell to the 
 ground." 
 
 " Why?" 
 
 " Because it was disagreeable to me, I tell 
 you, and as I thought a woman was obliged 
 to let her husband kiss her when he wanted I 
 could not decide with this before me. No, I 
 could not." 
 
 " Did you tell the abb< this?" Uncle Marc 
 asked, who was greatly amused.
 
 Cbfffon's jflBarrfage. W 
 
 "Indeed I did!" 
 
 " How did you tell him?" 
 
 "I said, 'M. Abbe, M. d'Aubieres lias pro- 
 posed to me, and all at home wish me to say 
 yes." 
 
 " Permit me, my dear," her father said " I 
 never wished it." 
 
 " He understood that. When I said they, 
 he knew who I meant. Then I asked his ad- 
 vice, and he replied: 'My child, as your 
 relatives wish this marriage, it remains for 
 you to consult your heart and head; they will 
 tell you better than I can.' I tojd him that 
 my head said yes entirely, and my heart 
 almost. Then I told him that M. d'Aubieres 
 had kissed me in the garden, and I wanted to 
 explain to him the effect it had upon me. 
 Then he cut me short with 'Enough, my 
 child, it is not necessary for me to know 
 more.' "Why are you laughing, Uncle Marc?" 
 
 " Because you are so funny with ycur narra- 
 tions to the old abbe, who does not under- 
 stand these matters." 
 
 " On the contrary this is his business, and 
 I wanted to explain to him the funny effect 
 all this had upon me. Yes, I told him that I
 
 TO Cbiffon'a dfcarrfage. 
 
 never felt anything like this on New Year's 
 day, when I had to kiss so many horrible 
 people." 
 
 " Why did you tell the abbe that you kissed 
 so many disagreeable people on New Year's 
 day?" 
 
 " Because it's true ; first Madame de Glair, 
 ville, who always kisses me with her wet 
 veil, and Cousin Balue. Do you think him 
 interesting? He had not a wet veil, but 
 threw spray all over you, which was the 
 same thing. I do believe I like M. d'Aubi- 
 eres best of all." 
 
 " Are you serious?" 
 
 44 Serious? If you think I am joking you 
 are deceived. What is the time?" 
 
 " Two o'clock." 
 
 "What! already! I must go and see 
 Father Ragon !" 
 
 " You will have plenty of time; his confes- 
 sional does not begin until four o'clock." 
 
 " I am not going to the confessional; I am 
 going to see him in the parlor. Otherwise I 
 would have to wait too long. Four o'clock 
 is the hour for the frogs to come for holy 
 water. Oh, shut op F
 
 Cbifton's dfcarrfage, 71 
 
 With a long slide she left the room, and her 
 clear voice was heard calling John. 
 
 Uncle Marc, becoming serious, said: 
 "Whether Chiffon marries d'Aubieres or 
 not, when she is here no longer we will miss 
 her dreadfully.**
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN Chiffon arrived at the house of the 
 Jesuits it was nearly three o'clock. A storm 
 was coming up, which darkened the heavens 
 and made the air stifling. She told John to 
 stay in the garden if he wished, it might be 
 more amusing to him; but he looked around 
 the parlor with a suspicious expression. He 
 replied to her in a hesitating tone, "If it 
 pleases you best." 
 
 " Oh no, come in if you wish, but don't 
 walk in that funny way; one might think 
 you were afraid of falling into a dungeon." 
 
 " I am not afraid, Miss Coryse, but I am a 
 little uncomfortable here ; it seems as if the 
 walls had ears, and it makes the cold chills 
 creep over me. This is worse than that 
 cursed Court of Justice." 
 
 "That's right, old John. Curse a little, 
 that is a good thing in this house." 
 
 Pushing the old servant out, she glided 
 over the shining floor and on the little pieces 
 73
 
 Cbfffon's Carriage. 78 
 
 of carpet scattered about, telling him to go, 
 that he might do some mischief. As soon as 
 he had gone she made haste to the parlor, 
 which she saw for the first time. This fine 
 new dwelling which the Jesuits had built at 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe was new to her. She had 
 only been to the chapel, brought very unwill- 
 ingly by her mother for some elegant recep- 
 tion. Madame de Bray thought the Jesuits 
 were not only good men to know but also to 
 be seen with. All smart society went to 
 their receptions, where the best male and 
 female voices could be heard and music of 
 the best kind. Many marriages had been 
 concocted there, and many flirtations also. 
 At first Coryse was unhappy at being dragged 
 to these reunions; they bored her and she 
 thought them irreverent, but finally became 
 interested in these intrigues. She knew all 
 the little religious and worldly rivalries. 
 She knew that one father was more in de- 
 mand than another for confessions, and that 
 others were vexed at his success; and also 
 that the most lovely penitents could obtain 
 an entree at all hours to the confessional, open 
 to others only at stated times.
 
 74 Cbfffon's /Rarrfage. 
 
 While waiting for Father Ragon, the most 
 popular of the worldly fathers, who made 
 many wait for him, Chiffon could not help 
 comparing this fine house, constructed with 
 an eye to English comfort concealed under 
 an appearance of severity, with the dirty and 
 gloomy house occupied by the curate of the 
 cathedral with his three vicars. She said to 
 herself, if the smart set of Pont-sur-Sarthe 
 know the way to the one, the poor know the 
 road to the other. It seemed to her that the 
 big sums brought here by legacies, gifts, and 
 alms never left it, while the poor and meagre 
 sums obtained with so much difficulty were 
 scattered by the little gray house below. 
 Chiffon hated the hoarders ; the little word 
 economy which she heard around her pro- 
 nounced with so much respect appeared hate- 
 ful and repugnant to her, and she thought 
 much might be spared from this new and 
 elegant home and given to the poor. In tak- 
 ing a rapid glance of the parlor she saw the 
 peeping-holes opened in the white walls, and 
 they reminded her of shutters in a bank, and 
 the Jesuits who were walking rapidly from 
 time to time through the room seemed like
 
 CDttTon's abarrfaflc. 75 
 
 employees rather than priests. In this con- 
 vent all spoke of the world, nothing of God. 
 
 Soon Coryse became impatient. " I can't 
 wait here forever. It is nearly four o'clock; 
 I am going to my studies." She went to the 
 window and saw John asleep on a bench. 
 He had seated himself correctly at first as on 
 his box, but gradually slipped down, his legs 
 stretched. The fathers who were passing by 
 could not quite understand the old man 
 asleep and apparently drunk. Their mute 
 indignation* amused the little girl, and she 
 got over her fatigue when a voice a little 
 dry yet sweet said: 
 
 " It is you, my child? but I can't receive 
 you just now." 
 
 " Oh !" Chiffon said, " I thought my mother 
 had asked you to let me come." She went 
 toward the door and with a relieved yet ami- 
 able expression said, " If you cannot, I must 
 go." 
 
 Father Ragon stopped her with a gesture, 
 saying, " I can't receive you here." 
 
 " I beg pardon, it was my mother who 
 wished." 
 
 " Yes, your mother knows that I receive
 
 W Cbtffon's flbarrfage. 
 
 sometimes in the parlor; but that I can 
 scarcely do for her I cannot for you." 
 
 As the little girl did not answer him he 
 went on in the same clear voice : 
 
 M Your mother has told me, my child, that 
 you wish to consult me on a very grave 
 question." 
 
 "Oh! I wish! that is, it is she who 
 wishes " 
 
 " Very well, I will hear you in a moment, 
 in my confessional." 
 
 But Chiffon protested, " I didn't come to 
 confess." 
 
 " Very well, my penitents are waiting for 
 me. I am late already." 
 
 Coryse, a little frightened, saw the wait 
 prolonged in the chapel, dreadfully new, 
 where gold glistened and the startling green 
 of the painted foliage made one feel like 
 gnashing one's teeth. The eye could not 
 rest on anything sweet or tranquil, where 
 one could collect themselves in prayer in the 
 midst of all this whispering and noise. The 
 fear of this delay suggested a thought which 
 might deliver her. 
 
 "A will go to the chapel and wait there.
 
 Cbiffon'3 flfcarrfage. 77 
 
 It won't bore me to wait, here ; those women 
 talk so loud !" 
 
 We must believe that Father Ragon was 
 not anxious to deliver to the mocking ears 
 of Chiffon the confidences of those she had 
 so irreverently called the frogs at holy 
 water. Suddenly he changed his mind, say- 
 ing, as if he had not understood : " Come, as 
 you are so anxious I will hear you here;" 
 changing his voice to a quiet tone as a deaf 
 person, he said, " I will hear you, my child. 
 What have you to tell me?" 
 
 She answered deliberately, "I? nothing 
 at all." 
 
 " I thought you had something to say to 
 me." 
 
 More accustomed to defence than attack, 
 Father Ragon hesitated at first, then said: 
 "Your mother has told me that the Duke 
 d'Aubieres has proposed to you, and that you 
 treat his offer, I will not say with repug- 
 nance " 
 
 " Oh yes, you can say it; go on." 
 
 The Jesuit had never spoken to Chiffon 
 when with her mother except some little 
 word of welcome, to which she would reply
 
 n Cbifton's d&arrfage. 
 
 or not as she felt inclined. There was 
 silence. 
 
 " Well?" Coryse questioned simply. 
 
 " Well," Father Ragon said, " this proposal 
 would be flattering to any young girl, and to 
 you not only flattering but unexpected. 
 You have no fortune " 
 
 " I know that !" 
 
 " The Duke d'Aubieres, without being very 
 rich, finds that he has enough for two. In 
 asking your hand he gives a fine example of 
 disinterestedness." 
 
 " I know that also ! and I am most grateful 
 to M. d'Aubieres, who I admire so much." 
 
 " What, you like him?" 
 
 " With all my heart ; better than any one 
 who comes to the house." 
 
 " Then I don't understand why you " 
 
 " You don't understand? I think it is very 
 plain ! I like M. d'Aubieres as I like Madame 
 de Jarville, for example, or the Abbe Chatel. 
 I love them, but to marry them deliver 
 me!" 
 
 " My child, I see that you are ignorant of 
 what marriage is." 
 
 " Of course I am, but still I may have some
 
 Cbtffon's 
 
 ideas about it. Should I marry, I want to 
 love him who will be my husband differently 
 from the way I love the Duke d'Aubieres and 
 the Abbe Chatel." 
 
 " You are a little sentimental, as all young 
 girls." 
 
 " I sentimental? Only for flowers, and the 
 heavens, and rivers, and I love to throw 
 myself on the earth. Yes! I am sentimental 
 about those things! And even for animals, 
 if you wish; but for men? Oh no, never!" 
 
 Positively stupefied by this style of talk- 
 ing, Father Ragon asked with a satirical ex- 
 pression at the corners of his lips : " Who 
 brought you up, my dear child?" 
 
 Without appearing to see the irony she an- 
 swered : " At present by papa and Uncle 
 Marc, and before by my uncle and my Aunt 
 de Launay." 
 
 As the Jesuit collected his thoughts, he 
 repeated, " De Launay ?" 
 
 Chiffon laughingly said, " Oh, don't try to 
 find them! They don't come to you! they 
 are not that kind ! They are good old people, 
 not fashionable, not in the swim. They go 
 to their parish! But pardon me; when I in-
 
 80 Cbtffon'0 flfcarrfage. 
 
 terrupted you, you said that I was sentimen- 
 tal; that is why I was so brusque." 
 
 " I told you that young girls are all more 
 or less taken with some ideal that they con- 
 coct themselves and never meet." 
 
 " I am not taken with any ideal." 
 
 " That is a good thing ! for you are in full 
 possession of your heart and can consider 
 calmly the fine future which opens before 
 you if you marry the Duke d'Aubieres." 
 
 "Do you call that a fine future, to marry 
 an officer? " I have always detested them. 
 That is, the officers only ; I am sorry for the 
 soldiers it is not their fault, and I love them 
 for that! I never meet one overcome by the 
 heat that I have not the wish to ask him to 
 come into the house and refresh himself." 
 
 Father Ragon gazed at Chiffon bewildered, 
 and he thought that Madame de Bray was 
 right when she said that her daughter was 
 not like everybody. He said to her, assum- 
 ing a cold and formal manner: 
 
 "In truth, my child, you speak a strange 
 language." 
 
 Coryse excused herself with tact: "Yes 
 I know that! but I can't help my instincts,
 
 Cbfffon's flbarrfage. 81 
 
 I beg pardon for shocking you. These things 
 shock the Abbe Chatel also, who has more 
 reason for it than you have;" and looking at 
 him she added, " This is the whole thing. 
 You are a man of the world, and I am not !" 
 
 "Now," the Jesuit said, who could with 
 difficulty restrain his laughter, "do you 
 feel now, my child, as if you could reflect 
 before refusing this marriage? and listen to 
 my advice?" 
 
 "Reflection would serve me nothing I 
 When I reflect I go to sleep ! and the more I 
 think the more I say No. There is no ad- 
 vantage in thinking about it, and as to fol- 
 lowing your advice, will you let me talk 
 frankly to you?" 
 
 " Yes, you may." 
 
 " Very well ; I see no reason why I should 
 follow your advice, you don't know me; 
 you have seen little of me, and moreover you 
 are so shocked at my ideas that you are 
 ready to scream!" Seeing that the Jesuit 
 made a movement of protestation, " Yes, I am 
 right; you have no reason to be interested in 
 me. All you say is because my mother has 
 asked you to say it foolishly." 
 6
 
 83 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. 
 
 "I say these things because it is my 
 advice." 
 
 " Oh, it is your advice, because my mother 
 has told you that I have no future and could 
 only make a bad marriage, and this would 
 be superb! Now under this pretext you 
 advise me to marry a man that I cannot 
 love and with whom I could never pass my 
 life." 
 
 "My child, you are wrong; it is because 
 the Duke d'Aubieres is a man of birth and 
 honor, good also. I would advise you in the 
 same way if you were rich." 
 
 " Oh, don't tell me this! If I was rich, in- 
 stead of urging this marriage with d'Au- 
 bieres you would be keeping me for " 
 
 As she was then silent Father Ragon asked 
 for whom? 
 
 " For one of your old scholars who had lost 
 everything, or who had been gambling, or 
 any of those kind of men. I see what is 
 going on at Pont-sur-Sarthe, and I rejoice in 
 not having money. You know how to take 
 care of your own ! you are not lazy !" 
 
 Chiffon, thinking she had spoken too 
 plainly, raised her eyes kindly to the Jesuit
 
 Cbttton'0 Carriage, 8S 
 
 Her beautiful and distinguished face was oil 
 the contrary softened. 
 
 " Very well," he said, looking at the little 
 girl with a benevolent expression. " It seems 
 to me, from what I can guess, that those who 
 are not lazy ought to please you. You ought 
 to love those who try to raise others." 
 
 " Yes, I do if it is an individual, not a 
 corporation." 
 
 Father Ragon, astonished, looked at Chif- 
 fon and said nothing. Since he came to 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe this little urchin of sixteen 
 was the first thinking being he had met. 
 Seeing that the child took his silence for dis- 
 missal, and was going, he asked her if she 
 had read much. 
 
 " No, not much." 
 
 " Then you have thought a great deal upon 
 serious subjects." 
 
 "Oh yes; when on horseback I think of 
 many things. I can't go to sleep, so I think, 
 but it is involuntary." 
 
 " The result of these reflections is that you 
 dislike our order?" 
 
 " Oh, you don't strike me as an order I 
 mean a religious one. The Dominicans, the
 
 84 Cbiffon's 
 
 Capucines, the Oratorians, these I call orders. 
 They occupy themselves with thoughts of 
 God, they preach. You are like a political 
 association, and also interest yourselves in 
 marriages. You frighten me! and the Lord 
 knows very few can do that." 
 
 " I can assure you, my child, that we work 
 for the good and salvation of humanity." 
 
 "Their good on the earth, I know; their 
 future salvation I don't think interests you 
 much. Then humanity for you means men 
 and women of the world. This is just like 
 my mother. I know all about it." 
 
 " I see that you are determined to take part 
 against us, and you are wrong." 
 
 "Oh!" Chiffon said politely, "not more 
 against you than the Freemasons, or the 
 Polytecnicians, who carry their monomania 
 through life. I hate men who mass them- 
 selves to ruin the few." 
 
 " This hatred can lead one very far." 
 
 "When I used to go shopping with my 
 nurse, and I would hear the poor little shop- 
 keepers complaining that they were ruined 
 by the big stores in the Rue de Benedic- 
 tines and the Place Carnot, when I would
 
 Cbfffon'0 fl&arrfage. 85 
 
 see them one by one closed, I was furious 
 about these big houses swallowing up the 
 little ones, and I would at night pray to God 
 that He would destroy them all in the night." 
 
 " This was a wicked thought." 
 
 " Perhaps, but I could not help it. I didn't 
 tell this to Uncle Albert and Aunt Matilda; 
 they would not have understood it, and I 
 never spoke to them of these thoughts or to 
 other people." 
 
 "I hope not now either." 
 
 " Oh yes, now I tell them to Uncle Marc, 
 and also to the Abbe Chatel." 
 
 " I see," the Jesuit said with a smile; " the 
 Viscount de Bray is a Socialist or at least 
 he was presented as such at the last elec- 
 tions?" 
 
 " No !" Chiffon answered brusquely, who 
 could not bear any reflection upon her Uncle 
 Marc ; " you are mistaken ! M. de Bray, who 
 is really what you call a Socialist, did not 
 depend on that for his election. He pre- 
 sented himself without any formality." 
 
 " And he lost it." 
 
 "It was the candidate protected by the 
 priests who won," Chiffon said with anger,
 
 88 Cbfffpn's Carriage. 
 
 "yes, it takes too much money to be elected." 
 Then rising to go, without waiting for an in- 
 vitation from the Jesuit, who forgot himself 
 in listening to this funny little product of 
 modern times, so different from any one he 
 had ever met she added a little satirically : 
 "I don't dare to keep you longer! You are 
 so busy. All these ladies will soon be tramp- 
 ing to the chapel." 
 
 Father Ragon rose also, and Coryse drew 
 back that he might precede her. 
 
 " Oh no !" he said smilingly, " you are not 
 a little girl now. You will soon be Madame 
 la Duchesse." 
 
 " You surprise me," Chiffon replied, tuck- 
 ing up her hair which had fallen to her waist, 
 " I have not the style for this position." 
 
 Father Ragon asked who was her escort; 
 he saw no one with her. 
 
 " Oh no!" she answered; "I have not been 
 educated in American fashion. I have my 
 nurse," showing him old John, who was 
 asleep on the bench and had slipped down on 
 the ground. " He is not very ornamental, 
 is he?" 
 
 When Chiffon had gone out of the gate she
 
 Cbtffon'0 fliatrfage. 87 
 
 returned and, looking at the big chapel clock, 
 said laughingly : 
 
 " Half-past five ! I have kept those frogs 
 from the holy water 1"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THEY were at dinner when Madame de 
 Bray entered the dining-room, and for a long 
 time had given up waiting for her. She 
 rarely came in time, giving as excuse the 
 races or visits, or a stopped clock, and some- 
 times a carriage accident. As soon as she 
 was seated, she asked Coryse, in a wonder- 
 fully amiable manner, if she was pleased 
 with her interview with Father Ragon. 
 
 " Oh yes," Coryse answered, in her usu- 
 ally indifferent way, "I was much charmed;" 
 but after thinking for a moment she added, 
 " I doubt if he was equally pleased with me." 
 
 "What did you say to him?" her father 
 asked, somewhat worried. 
 
 " Oh, a lot of things ; conversation varied." 
 
 " I will see him to-morrow," her mother 
 interposed, "and he will tell me all that 
 passed." 
 
 Chiffon said quietly : " I can tell you every- 
 88
 
 Cbfffon's dfcarrfage. 89 
 
 thing. Nothing occurred of any great im- 
 portance. Why are you surprised?" 
 
 " Because you seem embarrassed." 
 
 " Why should I be embarrassed?" 
 
 " I know nothing about it." 
 
 " Nor do I. You wanted me to go and see 
 Father Ragon, and I went ; that is all !" 
 
 " Did nothing disagreeable happen?" 
 
 "No; he is well-bred, too much so per- 
 haps. I also not too much, but enough. I 
 suppose he has not approved of what I said 
 to him, and I am sure that nothing he has 
 said convinced me ; but apart from this we 
 are as before." 
 
 Madame de Bray, taking advantage of the 
 departure of a servant, asked if she had de- 
 cided to marry the Duke d'Aubieres? 
 
 " I have decided not to marry him ;" and 
 turning toward her Uncle Marc she said : " I 
 will give him my answer to-night; you said 
 he was coming." 
 
 "No!" her mother interposed excitedly, 
 "you shall not end the matter this evening! 
 It would be madness to do so without proper 
 reflection." . 
 
 "I have reflected! I have done nothing
 
 90 Cbffton'0 dfcarrlage. 
 
 but this. I have thought so much about it 
 since yesterday that I am almost dead." 
 
 " You will wait before giving the duke 
 your final answer." 
 
 " Wait? He shall not dance attendance 
 upon me any longer. There has been already 
 too much of this." 
 
 " I forbid you to speak to him to-day," and 
 with her usual imperious manner her mother 
 left the room. 
 
 Seeing that Chiffon went upstairs instead 
 of going into the parlor, she asked where she 
 was going. 
 
 " In my room." 
 
 " You will remain here." 
 
 The little girl blushed and said plainly: "I 
 don't care ! but if I stay I will speak to M. 
 d'Aubieres as I ought. I will teil him truth- 
 fully that I will never marry him never I" 
 
 " Why, you are crazy !" 
 
 " You told me that long ago !" 
 
 " There ! the bell is ringing !" 
 
 "So much the better," Chiffon sighed; "I 
 am anxious to be relieved of this burden !" 
 
 As the colonel entered the room she ran 
 toward him without embarrassment, and
 
 CbffTcm'0 Carriage. 9i 
 
 said, " M. d'Aubieres, I want to speak to you 
 a moment in the garden;" and as they de- 
 scended the steps she said smilingly, " But 
 without any kisses." 
 
 He followed her quietly, but felt, notwith- 
 standing his love, what would be her answer. 
 Before she spoke he asked timidly: 
 
 " Is it not to tell me that you will not marry 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes," Chiffon murmured, much pained 
 at causing so much grief " I have thought 
 much since yesterday, and I see that it is im- 
 possible. I love you with all my heart, and 
 I am in despair at my obligation to tell you 
 this; but it is better before than after." 
 
 He did not answer. She could not see his 
 face clearly, but guessed his great sorrow. 
 Putting her hand on his arm she begged him 
 not to suffer; that she was not worth it. She 
 said she was high-tempered, ignorant, badly 
 reared all these vices her mother said came 
 from the Avesnes family; "and then I could 
 never be the wife of a colonel, nor worldly 
 in any way. I can't talk, or receive, or be 
 polite to people who are disagreeable to me; 
 nor persuade idiots that I think them clever.
 
 S3 CbffTon'a dfcarrfage. 
 
 I have very little of the woman in me ; T am 
 a savage, made to live only with flowers and 
 animals." All at once changing her tone, she 
 said: "A propos of animals, where is Gri- 
 bouille? I have not seen him since break- 
 fast." 
 
 She then ran across the grass toward the 
 stables. In a moment she returned, running 
 and followed by Gribouille, who was jump- 
 ing on her shoulders. Turning to the duke 
 she begged pardon for having left him so 
 suddenly and m the midst of such a serious 
 conversation ; but she was so afraid her dear 
 Gribouille was lost. 
 
 " This, you see, is my bad manners." 
 
 As the duke was silent she looked out into 
 the obscurity and asked if he was not there. 
 
 " Yes," he stammered with a choking voice, 
 " I am always there." 
 
 He was seated on a bit of turf, and coming 
 nearer Chiffon knew that he was crying. 
 
 "What! are you crying?" The thought 
 that this big giant, and so old, could cry 
 never entered her mind. Stupefied and be- 
 wildered, she took her seat near him. " Oh 
 Godl" she cried; she lost her head and could
 
 Gbfffon'0 Carriage. 93 
 
 think of nothing else to say. She thought 
 herself a horrible creature to torment in this 
 way so good a man. 
 
 The idea that one could suffer in this way 
 for her was shocking. She preferred greatly 
 to be in his place. She thought to herself, 
 " Well, I will tell him all my thoughts, and 
 after that, if he wishes it, I will marry him." 
 
 " Listen to me," she said in a clear voice, 
 which moved him deeply ; " I will do my 
 best, but it is difficult to say all I wish. If 
 we were in the light I never could; if I 
 could see your face and you mine I would 
 not dare to speak ; but don't cry, it is dread- 
 ful!" And as he seemed so sad she knelt 
 before him and begged him to bear it better. 
 Passing her arms around his neck, she kissed 
 affectionately the moist cheeks and in a sup- 
 plicating voice said that she would do all he 
 wished. Forgetting the day before, she 
 leaned toward him, but he repelled her 
 gently: 
 
 " No, no ! go away from me !" 
 
 Surprised at first, Chiffon rose, saying sadly, 
 " Oh yes ! I see you are doing as I did yes- 
 terday," and she sat down timidly near him.
 
 94 Cbtffon'8 
 
 He answered with confusion : " Don't think 
 that, my dear little Coryse. You cannot 
 understand my feelings. I am nervous, un- 
 happy ; I don't know what I do or say. I had 
 a beautiful dream and have fallen from a 
 great height." 
 
 She said with agitation : " If you have had 
 what you call a beautiful dream it is not my 
 fault, is it? I did not let you suppose that I 
 was going to marry you? I did not lead you 
 to love me except as a little joke, did I?" 
 
 "No, certainly not." 
 
 " I am so happy ! for otherwise I would be 
 in despair! I think making eyes at men and 
 trying to flirt with them is a shocking thing !" 
 After a little silence she said : " This is going 
 on all around us, but I never do it." 
 
 " A moment ago you said that you would 
 explain why you cannot be my wife," the 
 colonel said. 
 
 "Yes, but I am timid in explaining it. I 
 guess only about life, and my thoughts are 
 not of much value, but I listen to conversa- 
 tions, whispers, and certain names are men- 
 tioned, and when balls are given at the house 
 I see much flirting going on many things
 
 CbHTon'0 flfcarrtage. 95 
 
 that are not modest. I don't speak of young 
 girls, they can do what they wish, can they 
 not, as they are not married? No, I speak of 
 married women ; there are many who deceive 
 their husbands. I don't know how it begins 
 or ends, but I think it very bad." 
 
 " Yes, very bad !" 
 
 " Very well, I am sure that if I married 
 you I would deceive you." 
 
 " But," d'Aubieres said hesitatingly, " why 
 are you sure of this?" 
 
 " I am as sure as one can be of anything. 
 I have never met a man that I could say I 
 would care to marry. If after we were mar- 
 ried I should see some one pass that I liked, 
 and should say 'That man I could love!' 
 think what a blow to you. Why, it would be 
 disastrous !" 
 
 Notwithstanding his great sorrow the duke 
 wanted to laugh, but answered gravely: 
 " What you say has happened to many wo- 
 men; what then? Why, instead of letting 
 their thoughts go out to the new-comer they 
 simply lean upon their husband if he is good, 
 as I will be." 
 
 Chiffon answered: " I am sure of that, but
 
 95 Gbfffon's jflfcarrfage. 
 
 do you think that sufficient if the wife is not 
 good?" 
 
 " Why? would you not be an honest and 
 brave little wife?" 
 
 " I would be that if I did not meet what? 
 The man I may never meet, but who is cer- 
 tainly not yourself." 
 
 As M. d'Aubieres betrayed an expression 
 of pain, she said, enthusiastically: "Yes! I 
 love you much and have told you so, but not 
 as a husband and I am sure the day I meet 
 him I would abandon myself. What am I 
 saying? This is indeed an admission, but I 
 would be culpable to marry you without tell- 
 ing you this. If after knowing what prevents 
 me from saying yes, you still wish it, you 
 have been warned at least and can never re- 
 proach me. When I say this it is only my 
 way of talking, because I feel sure that this 
 would give you no happiness. But at the 
 same time I have been candid and never de- 
 ceived you." 
 
 "I understand: you would be wretchedly 
 unhappy with me and I would be miserable 
 to see you so. I must renounce what has 
 been in my thoughts for six months, my only
 
 Cbfffon's flbarrfage. 97 
 
 joy and hope. You have told me most deli- 
 cately that I am an old fool." 
 
 "Do you still wish it?" Coryse asked; "I 
 am sure you do." 
 
 "No; I swear not," murmured the poor 
 man, who was choked with emotion. He 
 wished to rise but seemed buried in the 
 ground. "Wait!" feeling that with each 
 effort he sank deeper. 
 
 Gribouille understood that all this meant 
 that they were going away, so he began to 
 dance and bark furiously. The duke tried to 
 lean on his hand, but it sank into the soft 
 earth. 
 
 " I don't know where I am," he said to 
 Chiffon, who was waiting for him in the 
 walk. " I feel that I am seated in a hole, and 
 the more I want to get out the deeper I 'fall." 
 
 She extended her hand to him, but she also 
 felt the earth sinking beneath her. 
 
 " Do you know what this is? It is my 
 flower cemetery. You were seated on it, 
 and as I buried them this morning the 
 earth is very soft. Don't speak of this at the 
 house they would laugh at me. I know 
 that it is foolish ; but I love flowers so dearly I 
 7
 
 98 Cbtffon'0 flbartfage. 
 
 I can't bear to see them soiled when they are 
 dead." 
 
 Since Chiffon was quite a little child she 
 had always buried her faded flowers. She 
 could not bear to see them dragging along 
 the streets. The idea of flowers touching 
 dirty things or swept in the dust was unbear- 
 able to her. In winter she burned them in 
 her room, but in summer she buried them in 
 the garden secretly, fearing a scolding from 
 her mother and teasing from Uncle Marc. 
 
 " Don't tell this, I beg of you ; no one knows 
 it now but Gribouille and yourself, and I 
 would be so angry if they laughed at me, 
 although I know it is foolish." 
 
 " You may be sure, Miss Coryse, that I will 
 never speak of the flower cemetery ;" and he 
 added sadly, " this poor little cemetery ! I, 
 who could never have resembled a flower, 
 came very near being buried in it this even- 
 ing. Indeed, my heart is buried." 
 
 " Come, you will soon forget all this !" 
 
 " Ob no, but will you let me out at the little 
 gate? I don't want to go in the house with 
 my swollen eyes, I would look ridiculous. 
 Besides, I will come to see Marc another day."
 
 Cbftton'6 Carriage. 99 
 
 " Do you love Uncle Marc?" 
 
 " Much ! he is one of my earliest chums." 
 
 " Are you the same age?" 
 
 " No, he is three years younger." 
 
 " Oh, that is the same thing." 
 
 " Yes, you are right." But in kissing for 
 the last time the little hand so firm and sup- 
 ple, he said aside, " No ! it is not the same 
 thing; he is three years younger!" 
 
 Returning to the drawing-room, the little 
 girl acted as if she had seen Uncle Marc for 
 the first time reading under the lamp, and 
 instead of answering her mother and father 
 about the disappearance of the duke, she 
 thought: "Three years! Uncle Marc looks 
 ten years younger 1"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE next morning Chiffon, hidden in the 
 grass playing with Gribouille, while waiting 
 for the hour of her studies, was surprised 
 to see Uncle Marc approach her, who said 
 in a somewhat vexed tone : " Aubieres has 
 gone !" 
 
 She jumped up with a bound: "What! 
 gone! Where?" 
 
 " To Paris, poor fellow ! he needs a change." 
 
 " You frightened me. I thought he had 
 gone forever !" 
 
 " Would that give you pain?" 
 
 " Indeed it would !" 
 
 " The grief of Aubieres has distressed me, 
 but as it is now all over I will tell you, 
 my little Chiffon, I think you have acted 
 properly." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad you think so ; and 
 papa?" 
 
 " Yes, papa also." 
 
 zoo
 
 Cbfffon'a flBarrfagc, 101 
 
 * Then all is for the best. Are you going 
 to ride on horseback to-day?" 
 
 " No, I have letters to write, and I have 
 great news for you. My aunt, Madame de 
 Crisville, is dead !" 
 
 " Oh, she is not my aunt. I didn't know 
 her nor did you very well, as she lived in 
 the South." 
 
 " I have seen her only rarely, but I am her 
 godson," and Uncle Marc went on quietly to 
 say that she had left him all her property. 
 
 '"All her fortune? Why, she was called 
 the Aunt of Carabas ; it was she who is so 
 very rich poor woman !" 
 
 Chiffon threw herself on the neck of Uncle 
 Marc, while Gribouille, imitating the move- 
 ment, jumped on his legs. 
 
 " Oh, I am so happy ! so happy that you 
 will have so much money!" 
 
 " Stop, you will strangle me !" Uncle Marc 
 cried, trying to get away. " I have told you 
 so often that you are now too old to hang on 
 one like a baby. It is not right." 
 
 " I beg pardon ; I am always forgetting. 
 Do tell me, what are you going to do with all 
 this money?"
 
 lot Cbifton'0 /Carriage, 
 
 " To begin, I am going to travel." 
 
 " Oh, are you going too?" and leaning her 
 head on Uncle Marc's shoulder she began to 
 cry. 
 
 " You are foolish, my child." 
 
 " No, I am unnerved I don't know what I 
 am doing. It was first M. d'Aubieres who 
 loved me and is gone ; now it is you." Her 
 tears came fast, and she said, " All those who 
 love me, they do not cry." 
 
 " Come, my Chiffon, I am not going away 
 forever; I am not going around the world. 
 Be quiet; France is good enough for me. 
 Besides, I have the spleen." 
 
 " Why do you say spleen instead of home- 
 sickness? You need not be ashamed to say 
 this. I hate those English words !" 
 
 " That is better, Chiffon; scold me as much 
 as you like, but laugh that is what I love." 
 
 "Now you can go into politics. The 
 money has come in time ; it is only a month 
 before the elections. You have time to bring 
 down the disciples of the good fathers who 
 lie to the workmen who lie to the men of 
 the world, and who lie all the time. Yes! 
 you will floor them, and 1 will be glad."
 
 Cbfffon'0 d&arrtage. 103 
 
 Her Uncle Marc laughed, and asked if her 
 interest was for him or from hatred to his 
 opponents? 
 
 " It is for both and for charity. You will 
 do much in this way, for you gave so much 
 before you were rich." 
 
 " How do you know?" 
 
 " I know your poor, and when I go to see 
 them they talk of you all the time. That is 
 why I go." 
 
 " Why do they not talk of you to me also?" 
 
 " Because I forbid it, and tell them that we 
 live in the same house, and if we should meet 
 here he would never come again; that he 
 hides his good deeds from others as a robber 
 his thefts." 
 
 " What a funny little girl you are ! if your 
 mother - " 
 
 " Yes ; does she know?' 
 
 " What?" 
 
 " Your inheritance?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Chiffon began to laugh. " I suppose she 
 made an awful face while she thought some 
 of the money would be left to charity ; yet 
 she hoped that papa and yourself would get
 
 104 Cbfffon's dfcarrfage. 
 
 the rest. She must be in a great state of 
 mind." Then turning to him sadly, she asked 
 if he was going at once. 
 
 " In a few days only, on business, but I will 
 soon come back." 
 
 " Oh, yes; you will then be in time for the 
 elections. I will electioneer for you. Poor 
 John, he will have to trot on foot and on 
 horseback !" 
 
 When the viscount began to laugh she 
 asked him if he ridiculed the idea of her 
 electioneering? but, she added, " I am very 
 popular, without appearing to be so, and there 
 are many who dislike you." 
 
 " Where?" 
 
 "I speak only of Pont-sur-Sarthe, not at 
 Paris. I don't know about that, but I see 
 everything that goes on here. Except a few 
 friends, the others detest you." 
 
 " But I have done nothing to provoke this." 
 
 " Yes ! you have lived alone. That is an 
 unforgivable sin in Pont-sur-Sarthe." 
 
 " But I do not live alone." 
 
 " Oh, you forswear the dinners, balls, mati- 
 nees, the receptions of the fathers, garden 
 parties, Thursdays of Madame de Bassigny,
 
 Cbtffon's dbarrfage, 105 
 
 because they bore you. I am glad you do, 
 for it is only in this way that these idiots can 
 make themselves popular." 
 
 " Yes I know that I am a bear, and it is 
 wrong." 
 
 "Why wrong? What have you done? what 
 is that to you? Now they will adore you, 
 and will ask you In marriage. It is not a 
 secret?" 
 
 " What?" 
 
 " Your inheritance." 
 
 " No, I will not proclaim it on the house- 
 tops, but I am not sorry that they know it." 
 
 "Why?" Chiffon said, "you who are so in- 
 different to the opinion of the world why 
 do you wish them to know that you are rich?" 
 
 " Because when I spend money for my elec- 
 tion I don't wish them to think that I am 
 sustained by a committee; this way of doing 
 politics is opposed to my idea. I think it is 
 not clean." 
 
 "I don't know what committee could sus- 
 tain you, because you have independent ideas 
 and have not attached yourself to any party." 
 
 " That is true, but they accuse me of it." 
 
 " That makes no difference," and the beau-
 
 106 Cbiffon's flfcarrfage. 
 
 tiful eyes of the young girl shone with a 
 peculiar light. She declared that she in- 
 tended to amuse herself, and asked what 
 o'clock it was. 
 
 Uncle Marc looked at his watch and told 
 her that it was a quarter to nine. 
 
 " Then I will have time if I hurry," and 
 with all her strength she called John. 
 
 The old coachman appeared at the stable 
 door, where it was his habit to remain until 
 his little mistress should want him. 
 
 " Dress quickly ! we will go out at once. 
 Hurry! In ten minutes I must be at the 
 Place des Girondins." 
 
 At this moment a servant crossed the court- 
 yard, and Coryse asked if her mother had 
 gone out. The servant said she had not, and 
 the little girl thought, " All is well ; I feared 
 that I might meet her," and throwing a kiss 
 to Uncle Marc she ran off laughing. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Chiffon rang at 
 the gate of the Jesuits. 
 
 " Is it not at this hour that Father Ragon 
 says mass?" she asked of the brother who 
 opened the door.
 
 Gbiffon's flBarrfage. 107 
 
 "Yes, but it is over; it is nine o'clock." 
 
 Instead of going into the chapel Coryse re- 
 mained in the garden. She walked about in 
 her little blouse of pale pink batiste, her 
 bright face buried in a big leghorn hat cov- 
 ered with roses. Looking at the door of the 
 little church she thought, " He will go out 
 first to the sacristy, but as there is no other 
 way of coming out he will pass by me, and I 
 can't miss him. While waiting all these 
 women will go by, and I will tell them the 
 news. That will be so very amusing!" 
 
 Forgetting completely where she was, she 
 began to dance, to the amazement of the 
 brother doorkeeper, who looked out from his 
 lodge. 
 
 Although old John was quite accustomed 
 to Chiffon's little ways, yet he was surprised 
 at all this gayety, and said : " Why, what is 
 the matter with you, Miss Coryse?" 
 
 She stopped, one foot in the air, and said 
 laughingly. " I will tell you on our way home. 
 While waiting for me go and sleep on your 
 bench if you wish, but do take a more grace- 
 ful pose than last time." 
 
 The door of the chapel made such a deaf-
 
 108 Cbfffcm's 
 
 ening sound that Coryse turned her head 
 around and saw little Barfleur coming from 
 mass. He wore a blue waistcoat very short 
 and tight, and trousers with big plaids of 
 many colors. An enormous cravat enveloped 
 his neck and rose above the collar of his shirt. 
 In this costume he appeared more puny and 
 stunted than ever; not ugly, however, and 
 distinguished enough in spite of his small 
 stature and clothes too much in the height of 
 fashion. 
 
 The little girl walked in front of him and 
 simply greeted him. As she was alone he 
 was sufficiently well-bred not to stop her, 
 and simply bowed and seemed waiting to see 
 the people coming from mass. 
 
 " He is watching for Madame Delorme," 
 Chiffon thought, who for a long time had 
 guessed that this pretty wife of a notary in 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe was pleased with him. 
 
 Finally Madame Delorme appeared, and 
 the young man bowed with a surprised look as 
 if he had not expected to meet her. Chif- 
 fon thought, " The mass is not over and they 
 want to have a little talk before the others 
 come out,"
 
 Cbiffon's Carriage. 109 
 
 Observing the pretty woman bend over to 
 see the little fellow, who just reached her 
 shoulder, she thought, " How funny all this 
 is! M. Delorme is a hundred times better. 
 What can she see in this little Barfleur, who 
 has no mind nor goodness nor refinement? 
 He is foolish, only an apology for a man. 
 There they go for a little chat as if by 
 chance." 
 
 She looked after this young woman, admir- 
 ing her beautiful waist so well balanced on 
 her hips, and thought, "It is nice to be 
 pretty! I wish I was!" Madame de Bray 
 had so often told Coryse that she was ugly 
 and ungraceful that she really believed it. 
 
 The sound of voices interrupted her 
 thoughts. Madame de Bassigny came out of 
 the chapel, followed by three women from 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe who were seen often with 
 her. 
 
 " Oh !" Coryse thought, " this Is a good 
 time to open my budget." She walked slowly 
 toward the group, her head bent as if in con- 
 templation of the little stones rolling about 
 at her feet. 
 
 " Oh, this is Miss Chiffon !" cried Madame
 
 no Cbtffon's fl&arrlage. 
 
 de Bassigny. Chiffon saw that she was quite 
 an object of curiosity to others as well as 
 Madame de Bassigny. The story of her re- 
 fusal of M. d'Aubieres and of his departure 
 from Pont-sur-Sarthe, and the surprise of 
 these women that this little girl without a 
 cent should refuse a duke with twenty-five 
 thousand pounds a year, had run through 
 the town. They were jealous of the little 
 girl, and yet felt that she had no right to re- 
 fuse such an offer. 
 
 " How about giving them the news of 
 the inheritance of Uncle Marc?" she thought, 
 while the wife of the colonel looked at her 
 askance. " It is not easy, and this sort of 
 thing should come about naturally." 
 
 " I am delighted to see you, Miss Coryse," 
 Madame de Bassigny said amiably; " I was 
 about writing to ask your mother and your- 
 self and M. de Bray to dine with us on Thurs- 
 day, the fifteenth; also M. Marc if he will 
 come ; but I am afraid that he will not do us 
 the honor." 
 
 Chiffon saw that her moment had come, 
 and looking attentively at Madame de Bas- 
 signy to note the slightest change of expres-
 
 Cbfffon'a /Carriage, ill 
 
 sion, she answered in a clear voice : " My 
 uncle dines out rarely, but in this case he 
 must decline for Thursday, as he leaves 
 town." 
 
 " Ah ! with his friend M. d' Aubieres?" 
 
 Chiffon appeared not to understand her, 
 and replied : " No, he goes alone. His aunt, 
 Madame de Crisville, is dead." 
 
 " Oh, she died at Pau, did she not?" and 
 turning to some of the women with her, she 
 told them if they wanted a chateau, Crisville 
 could be bought very soon. It was perched 
 too high for a hospital or orphan asylum. 
 Every one at Pont-sur-Sarthe thought that 
 Madame de Crisville would leave her money 
 to some charity. 
 
 Chiffon told her, with such an innocent ex- 
 pression, that her uncle would not sell Cris- 
 ville, but live there himself. And she added 
 with the same indifference : " He inherits 
 everything." 
 
 "What, he? M. deBray? Why, your aunt 
 has loft five or six millions." 
 
 " She was not my aunt, and she has left 
 more than this." 
 
 Silenced by the aplomb of this young girl,
 
 118 Cbiffon'0 dfcarrfage. 
 
 who was ignorant of the sum of the bequest 
 of the Marquise de Carabas " More than 
 that?" Madame de Bassigny repeated, 
 stunned and vexed. 
 
 They left the chapel; she bade Coryse 
 good-by, and went rapidly before the others 
 to retail the news. In the distance Chiffon 
 saw with joy their faces darken as she told 
 them. 
 
 "They are stunned," she thought; "lam 
 so glad I came." 
 
 Suddenly she ran toward the chapel, as 
 she saw Father Ragon approaching with his 
 measured steps. " I won't let him hear it 
 from them," and she asked politeTy if she 
 could speak to him. 
 
 As the Jesuit threw a rapid glance toward 
 others waiting for him, she said: "I won't 
 keep you long; I was too chatty yesterday." 
 
 "No, my child, I was on the contrary 
 much interested." 
 
 " You are very good, but I know I was 
 wrong to speak of my uncle and of his poli- 
 tics; and don't speak of it to my mother she 
 is coming to see you to-day." 
 
 "You exaggerate the importance of this
 
 Cbfffon's fl&arrfa0e. us 
 
 conversation," Father Ragon told her with a 
 somewhat impatient tone. 
 
 "No; I gave you to understand that my 
 uncle would not oppose M. de Bernay this 
 time, because he had no money." 
 
 " Yes?" 
 
 "Well, it is this: he will do so now, be- 
 cause he has it." 
 
 The Jesuit appeared annoyed, and forget- 
 ting his usual prudence asked squarely how 
 he got it. 
 
 Chiffon answered with her usual indifferent 
 manner, " Because he is the only legatee of 
 his Aunt de Crisville, who died yesterday." 
 
 Father Ragon was stupefied, and with his 
 mouth open seemed dazed. Before the ill 
 health of Madame de Crisville had obliged 
 her to go to Pau, she had been one of his 
 penitents, and he knew that he had dictated 
 to her that the Jesuits should not be forgot- 
 ten in her will. This old lady had died 
 neglecting his wishes and her promises ob- 
 tained with some trouble, and had left her 
 fortune to a Socialist, who was in good cir- 
 cumstances a dangerous man whom she un- 
 consciously armed for the struggle against 
 8
 
 114 Cbfffon's fl&artfage. 
 
 all that he had respected and sustained. He 
 asked, talking to himself rather than to Chif- 
 fon, who devoured him with her bright eyes: 
 " It is an enormous fortune?" 
 
 Chiffon repeated, " Enormous ! half of a 
 province yes, at least." 
 
 By a rapid intuition the Jesuit had an idea 
 that probably Coryse was laughing at him, 
 but in lowering his eyes he saw her at his 
 feet as smiling and indifferent as ever, and 
 he was reassured. The thought came to him 
 suddenly that Chiffon, whom heretofore he 
 had not thought worthy of much attention, 
 would become an heiress. The affection of 
 the Viscount de Bray for the step-daughter 
 of 'his brother was well known in Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe. They knew that he loved the little 
 Avesnes not only as his niece, but as his 
 child. 
 
 Assuming the paternal also, Father Ragon 
 said to Coryse : " I am so happy at this good 
 fortune that God has sent you. Here I see 
 truly the hand of God. Yesterday from over- 
 delicacy and scruple from fear of not being a 
 true and holy wife, you repulsed the Duke 
 d'Aubieres, who asked your hand, and was
 
 Cbfffon'a dBatrfage. 115 
 
 willing to marry you without fortune ; to-day 
 the Lord rewards this conduct in placing } r ou 
 in such a way that your choice can be guided 
 by your heart." 
 
 " But," Chiffon said, not guessing the drift 
 of the Jesuit's remarks, " I don't see why, 
 because my uncle has inherited from his aunt, 
 I can be better able to choose according to 
 my heart admitting that my heart had a 
 desire to choose something." 
 
 " It is very clear, however ** Father 
 Ragon continuing to talk to himself as well 
 as Coryse " that the Viscount de Bray will 
 give a fine dot to the child that he looks upon 
 nearly as his own and he an old fellow with- 
 out near relations." 
 
 Coryse began to laugh : " Oh, I see your 
 idea. You think that the good offers are 
 over? and I said a short time since that M. 
 d'Aubieres* proposal had given me more 
 value. Yes, since that they look upon me 
 with respectful curiosity ; what is that worth 
 now? honors! money I all for me! Will 
 that change me?" 
 
 While she was talking the Jesuit saw the 
 little Barfleur sitting under a tree, and began.
 
 116 Cblffon's jflfcarrtage. 
 
 to exchange affectionate signals with him. 
 Pointing to the young man the Jesuit said to 
 Chiffon: "That is Hugues Barfleur, one of 
 my old pupils." 
 
 She replied, without interest: "I know, I 
 have met him." 
 
 Father Ragan went on to say that he was 
 one of the faithful, coming each day to mass 
 " A great soul ! who did nothing displeas- 
 ing to God." 
 
 "I don't know," the little girl replied, "if 
 his flirtations with Madame Delorme are so 
 pleasing to God." 
 
 The Jesuit made a gesture of indignant 
 protestation and sincere surprise. Until now 
 he had doubted nothing, but the inconvenient 
 reflection of the little d'Avesnes threw a 
 new light upon a thousand details not per- 
 ceived until now. Anxious 'to stop her sus- 
 picions and serve his old scholar, he said in 
 his most insinuating tone: "In the mouth 
 of a young girl such remarks are out of place. 
 You are lacking in judgment, my child. 
 Hugues de Barfleur would not care to be 
 amused with the person you mention; not 
 only because his principles defend him
 
 Cbfffon'0 dBarrfaac, 117 
 
 against that sort of temptation, but also be- 
 cause I have reason to know that his thoughts 
 are elsewhere." 
 
 " Oh, indeed!" Coryse answered vaguely. 
 
 " Yes ! the poor boy has lost his heart. He 
 loves a young girl who, I fear, does not return 
 his affection." 
 
 "A young girl? who can she be?" Sud- 
 denly she became enlightened, and with a 
 burst of laughter asked if the young girl was 
 not herself. Looking at the Jesuit with ad- 
 miration, she thought that he had lost no 
 time. 
 
 Father Ragon looked at her with smiling 
 lips but a hard eye. Then she excused her- 
 self: 
 
 " I beg pardon for laughing in this way, 
 but it is so funny the money which would 
 hurt M. Bernay will be of value to M. Bar- 
 fleur. It will not go out of the house. Ah! 
 I need not say that I understand." 
 
 "Miss d'Avesnes!" the Jesuit said with a 
 cutting voice, " when your mother said that 
 you were a young girl badly reared, she was 
 right." 
 
 " Right to think it, but not to say it," Chif-
 
 118 Cbiffon's flfcarrfage. 
 
 fon answered. Bowing to the Jesuit, who 
 left her, she tried to find old John. She saw 
 him quiet on his bench. Mechanically she 
 rounded her lips but stopped a little fright- 
 ened. She thought, " I have not whistled as 
 I do sometimes. What an effect it would 
 have produced!" 
 
 In leaving the Jesuits she began to run, 
 forgetting the old man behind her was 
 stretching out his old legs with much pain ; 
 she wanted to take the news to the Abbe 
 Chatel, feeling sure that she would enjoy 
 her visit. 
 
 At the corner of the Palace street, a flower 
 seller was stationed with his little cart. 
 Chiffon took some roses, and, always in a 
 run, soon arrived at the parsonage of Saint 
 Marcien. 
 
 If the parsonage of the cathedral was not 
 gaudy, that of Saint Marcien was indeed piti- 
 ful a little hovel at the back of the old 
 church in a black and dirty narrow street. 
 To the left of this a miserable garden, not at 
 all what might be termed a curate's garden. 
 The Abbe Chatel, who adored flowers, had 
 transformed it into a bower of perfume, this
 
 Cbtffon'0 Carriage. 119 
 
 poor little corner of miserable earth. The 
 servant had gone to market,, so* the abbe 
 opened the door for Coryse. He held in one 
 hand a little preserve pot for the moment 
 filled with paste, and with the other an enor- 
 mous brush despoiled of much of its hair. 
 
 " I must beg pardon for receiving you on 
 this way," he said to Chiffon, who greeted 
 him joyously. He explained that he was 
 about to begin papering his parlor, and he 
 showed her the pieces which had fallen from 
 the wall owing to the great dampness. The 
 furniture can be summed up in six straw 
 chairs, an old broken sofa, a good clock of 
 worm-eaten wood, and a statue of the Blessed 
 Virgin in alabaster resting on the wall above 
 a little stand upon which was a vase. 
 
 " I have brought some roses for your Holy 
 Virgin," Chiffon said, putting the flowers in 
 the vase, " but you must give them some 
 water quickly." 
 
 " Yes very soon." 
 
 " No, at once ! it would be barbarous to 
 make them wait in this heat, and you know 
 the Blessed Virgin would not have anything 
 suffer for her. Is it not so?"
 
 190 Cbfffon's /Carriage. 
 
 " You are right," the priest answered, and 
 filled the vase from a spout in the garden. 
 
 Looking at him Coryse thought : " He is not 
 distinguished, nor stylish with his honest red 
 face under his white hair like a tomato in 
 cotton; but I like him, because he has a 
 beautiful soul! Instead of busying himself 
 with pulling down his poor friends and 
 marrying the little chippies who are played 
 out he thinks of the forlorn and bereft and 
 of the good God. There is one who ignores 
 pinchbeck, and intrigues, and flirts, and all 
 that fuss." 
 
 When the abbe returned, bringing with him 
 the vase so full that the water spilled out 
 over his soutane, Coryse said, " Oh, my dear 
 abbe, I am happy." 
 
 "Truly so? not as yesterday morning?" 
 He took the roses with his big, awkward 
 hands, and arranged them badly but with in- 
 finite care. When he had finished he took 
 his seat by Coryse. 
 
 " Dear abbe, since this morning Uncle Marc 
 has become very, very rich !" 
 
 " How is that, my child?" 
 
 "He has not robbed a coach oh no! he
 
 Cbtffon's d&arrfage. 121 
 
 has inherited the fortune of his aunt Madame 
 de Crisville." 
 
 " Then she is dead?" 
 
 " Naturally, dear abbe !" 
 
 " Oh, this poor woman ! who was so gener- 
 ous to the poor and unhappy !" 
 
 " Uncle Marc will be as good as she. You 
 will see how many poor we will find." 
 
 " God hears you, my child !" 
 
 " But it seems as if you doubted it." 
 
 "No, I do not, but it would not be sur- 
 prising if Marc, who is young yet, should be 
 less occupied with these things than his 
 aunt." 
 
 "Young! is Uncle Marc young?" 
 
 " Well, he is not old." 
 
 "I don't say that he is declining! but he 
 is not very young, since he is three years the 
 junior of M. d'Aubieres, who is old." 
 
 " Tell me about him, my child." 
 
 " Oh," Coryse answered, with a sigh of re- 
 lief, " he went this morning !" 
 
 "What! gone?" 
 
 " Oh, not forever ! he will return. It makes 
 no difference ; if I had known that you would 
 not have been more excited than this, I would
 
 129 Gbtffon'0 Carriage. 
 
 not have dragged poor old John here when 
 the thermometer is at thirty-five degrees. I 
 would have let you hear the news from every* 
 body." 
 
 "My child, you quite misunderstand me. 
 I am happy, sincerely so, at the good for- 
 tune of your uncle and also at this great joy 
 it seems to give you." 
 
 " Thanks, dear abbe, I am rewarded! It is 
 nearly twelve o'clock." 
 
 While Chiffon was trotting home in the 
 hot sun, the Abbe Chatel, in arranging for 
 the last time nis lovely roses in the parlor at 
 the feet of the Blessed Virgin, said to him- 
 self: 
 
 " O God, protect this child who loves you! 
 and I pray thee to give her happiness 1"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " DON'T you know it?" Chiffon said to her 
 Uncle Marc, who had returned after an ab- 
 sence of fifteen days ; " everybody is down 
 upon you. Your letter to the electors has 
 revolutionized Pont-sur-Sarthe. They have 
 this idea in their heads I" 
 
 "Oh, I don't care!" 
 
 " Yes, I know that, but for me to hear every- 
 body striking at you in this way it makes 
 me sickl" 
 
 " What, everybody?" 
 
 44 Yes, all the old bores who come to the 
 house. I don't know why I say the old ones, 
 for the young ones are just as bad. There is 
 my mother; day before yesterday she re- 
 turned in a fever because she read your 
 treasonable article placarded o"n the walls." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 " She had a scene with papa a genuine 
 one, I tell you P 
 
 123
 
 134 Cbfffon's 
 
 " Finer than usual?" 
 
 " Oh yes, greater than ever !*" 
 
 " Poor Peter !" the viscount said, laughing. 
 
 "How wicked you are to laugh; he is so 
 good !" 
 
 " Yes, he is good; if it was me." 
 
 " And me also. This only proves that he 
 is better than either of us. Chiffon, this is a 
 happy life for me here under these conditions ! 
 You say that your mother is furious with 
 me?" 
 
 " What difference does this make?" 
 
 " Why, she treats me as if I was a negro ! 
 She has always done it, and now my election !" 
 
 "Yes, but there is your inheritance! If 
 your election displeases her, your inheritance 
 enchants her. She respects money; you 
 know it !" 
 
 After a while, she asked him if he had 
 finished his business. 
 
 "Nearly." 
 
 " And you are rich?" 
 
 " Yes, very !" 
 
 " So much the better, for M. de Bernay is 
 stirring them up strongly, and you had bet- 
 ter take care of Mm."
 
 Gbfffon's dfcarrtage. 185 
 
 41 What do you know about it?* 
 
 " I have heard it." 
 
 " From whom?" 
 
 " The workmen at the upper furnace.** 
 
 Uncle Marc began to laugh. 
 
 " So you have been talking with the work- 
 men at the upper furnace? Poor Aubieres is 
 right; you are a funny, good little woman T 
 
 " Have you seen M. d'Aubieres?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Will he soon come back?" 
 
 " Yes: he returns for the races." 
 
 The breakfast bell rang, and Madame de 
 Bray entered the room smiling from ear to 
 ear, and ran up to her brother-in-law to con- 
 gratulate him upon his return, telling him 
 how delighted she was, and how much they 
 had all missed him; "have we not, Chiffon?" 
 
 The marchioness had never been so ami- 
 able before to her brother-in-law, and she 
 had never called her daughter Chiffon except 
 before some new-comer when she posed for 
 wheedling tenderness. Marc looked at her 
 with surprise, lowering his eyes when he 
 saw Coryse's bantering expression. She was 
 laughing behind her mother's back.
 
 128 Cbfffon's fl&arrfage. 
 
 Madame de Bray asked if he had seen 
 husband. 
 
 " Yes, I saw him on my arrival." 
 
 " Has he warned you of the terrible effect 
 of your letter to the electors? My dear Marc, 
 you have no idea of the uproar, not of a 
 flattering kind, in connection with your 
 name." 
 
 "As this is your name also, I must beg 
 pardon." 
 
 " Oh, war is war, and I have taken my 
 stand. To be frank with you, from the be- 
 ginning I was disheartened, absolutely as- 
 tounded. Is it not so?" appealing to her 
 husband, who had just entered the room. 
 " Now I am somewhat consoled by Marc's 
 placards, and have played my part bravely." 
 
 "You have told me so," her husband 
 replied. 
 
 In passing through the dining-room Chiffon 
 whispered to her Uncle Marc: " Fine fix, eh! 
 didn't I tell you so? the money." 
 
 "Coryse," the marchioness said, seating 
 herself, "I don't know if I remembered to 
 tell you that we dine on Saturday with the 
 Barfleurs."
 
 Cbfffon's flfcardage. 127 
 
 * No, you never tell me when you dine in 
 town." 
 
 " You are invited." 
 
 " That makes no difference, as I am not 
 going." 
 
 " Why not?" her mother asked. 
 
 " Because I never go to these dinners, and 
 it was agreed upon that I should not be taken 
 into the world until the winter following my 
 eighteenth year. That will be in two years." 
 
 " Oh, this is not going into the world !" 
 
 "Yes, it means to dress! to show one's 
 self, to be dreadfully bored! This is what I 
 call going into the world !" 
 
 " But I have accepted for you." 
 
 " It makes no difference. You have prom- 
 ised that I should not be obliged to appear in 
 society except at home until I am eighteen, 
 and I don't see why I should give the prefer- 
 ence to the Barfleurs this evening, and not 
 to Madame Bassigny." She added laugh- 
 ingly, " The other day in the garden at the 
 Jesuit College she invited you, also, Uncle 
 Marc, but feared that you would not honor 
 her by accepting." 
 
 41 This proves that Madame Bassigny has
 
 138 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. 
 
 certain moments of lucidity. I would never 
 go to her house, especially now that I am in 
 mourning." 
 
 Chiffon glanced at her mother's dress, a 
 frock of a very delicate mauve, so undecided 
 that it might be taken easily for rose. 
 
 The marchioness excused herself, saying 
 that it was only a mourning of three months, 
 and fifteen days of it had already expired. 
 " By the way, Marc, & propos to this, I want 
 to ask you if a ball here would be disagree- 
 able to you on the Sunday of the races?" 
 
 " Not at all, if I am not expected to appear." 
 
 " But if you should stay away I might be 
 blamed." 
 
 " It makes no difference; I will not go to a 
 ball the month after the death of an aunt 
 who has left me all her fortune. It would 
 cot only be heartless but in bad taste." 
 
 The marchioness said that they had no 
 such motive, and she wished to give a ball 
 for Coryse. 
 
 " For me indeed!" and the little girl told 
 her that she detested balls and the world; 
 she could not even dance properly. " A ball 
 for me indeed I"
 
 Cbfffon'0 Carriage. 129 
 
 " It Is just to teach you how to appear in 
 the world, and it will give you a taste for it" 
 
 This time Chiffon resisted entirely: 
 
 " Come, no one will believe this story of a 
 ball given for me. Every one knows that I 
 have no power in this house, and that what- 
 ever is done here is not for me !" 
 
 "You are an ungrateful and impertinent 
 girl," her mother told her with a voice so 
 loud that it seemed to vibrate in her eye- 
 brows. 
 
 "No, I am not ungrateful, but you had 
 better tell Uncle Marc and others the truth. 
 The ball is to astound the simple people of 
 the country in letting them see the prince." 
 
 Marc de Bray asked, who was this prince? 
 
 " Oh, you have not seen him yet? he came 
 eight days ago to Pont-sur-Sarthe, a live true 
 prince one who will reign if his father is 
 not put out before. His name is d'Axen." 
 
 " What is he doing here?" 
 
 Before her mother could answer, Chiffon 
 said: "We don't know exactly. They say 
 he is here to assist at the manoeuvres, or to 
 perfect himself in French, which he speaks 
 better than we do." 
 9
 
 130 Cbfffon's Carriage. 
 
 " What sort of fellow is he?" 
 
 His sister-in-law said he was very charm- 
 ing; but Chiffon added, " That depends upon 
 taste. He is as tall as a boot, and black, 
 very black. M. Carnot is blond in compari- 
 son with him. They call him 'My lord' and 
 'Your Highness.' You understand; it is 
 delicious !" 
 
 Her father, seeing the coming storm, told 
 her that he was addressed as bis title de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Oh, that is all very natural," Coryse said. 
 " I speak to him in this way, but some are 
 amused by it;" looking at her mother she 
 added, " Humility is not my forte !" 
 
 Of the many sides to the marchioness* 
 character none shocked Coryse so much as 
 her arrogance to plain people and her humil- 
 ity with the great. Often after crushing a 
 servant or workman with her superiority, 
 which her daughter refused to recognize, 
 Madame de Bray complained of the stupidity 
 of those that she called mercenaries. Chiffon, 
 both amused and angry, often told her that 
 if they possessed the qualities she desired they 
 would be ambassadors and not servants.
 
 Cbfffon'0 flbarriage. ** 
 
 Little Corsye thought it quite right t^ re- 
 spect princes when chance brought one near 
 them, but quite unnecessary to run after 
 them. She hated constraint and loved to 
 live alone or with her equals. Then it 
 seemed to her that modern princes seemed 
 to have forgotten that they were princes, and 
 that it was in bad taste to be constantly re- f 
 minding them of it. 
 
 Since the arrival of Count d'Axen in Pont- 
 sur-Sarthe, the marchioness swam in joy, 
 greatly flattered to have received a visit 
 from his highness. He had been sent by M. 
 d'Aubieres, who some years earlier had been 
 military attache in the small domain ruled 
 by his father. Madame de Bray was obliged 
 in Paris to run here and there to meet such 
 distinguished people, who gave her but little 
 attention, and, totally severed from all this 
 at Pont-sur-Sarthe, she thought the heavens 
 had opened when a letter came addressed to 
 her husband, in which the colonel announced 
 the coming of an hereditary prince. 
 
 This time the most elegant drawing-rooms 
 were completely distanced, for the Count 
 d'Axen knew at Pont-sur-Sarthe only four
 
 133 Gblffon's flbarrfage. 
 
 generals, the major, and the prefect. With- 
 out pity for Madame Bassigny, her best 
 friend, Madame de Bray threw her head in 
 the air and said it was such a bore not to be 
 able to get up something for the prince, but 
 he refused to meet any one. She did not 
 wish to share his highness, who had fallen 
 so providentially in her hands! There were 
 many pretty and elegant women in Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe, and it was to be feared if the little 
 prince was once launched in society he might 
 be unfaithful to the house of Bray. 
 
 He at last forced the marchioness out of 
 her reserve, and told M. de Bray one day of 
 a ball he heard was to be given at the Bar- 
 fleur chateau, and begged for an invitation. 
 
 "What! a ball?" The marchioness was 
 amazed. 
 
 " Yes," the count added, " in dining at a 
 restaurant I heard something of it. It is 
 not quite certain, but will probably be given 
 on the Sunday of the races." 
 
 Madam de Bray was furious. " They can- 
 not give it on that day, as on that date we 
 give a ball to the prince." 
 
 They had never spoken of a ball. The
 
 Cbfffon's dfcarrfage. 1*8 
 
 marquis and Chiffon looked at each other, 
 amazed at this aplomb, but Madame de Bray 
 was not in the least abashed by their pres- 
 ence, and turning to her husband asked him 
 if they had not decided long ago upon this 
 date for their ball. 
 
 The next day she sent the invitations, 
 showing that she had the honor of knowing 
 him before everybody. Fearing the conver- 
 sation might again take a disagreeable turn, 
 the marquis ventured to say that if Chiffon 
 would not dine on Saturday with the Bar- 
 fleurs, she had better write. 
 
 The marchioness replied in her decided 
 manner, " She will go." 
 
 " I cannot go if I wished," Coryse said. * I 
 have no dress." 
 
 "What! no dress? Where is your pompa- 
 dour? Does that mean nothing?" 
 
 "It means that two years ago I had a 
 mousseline-de-laine frock with little bou- 
 quets, and that you call it my pompadour 
 dress. I have grown two heads in two years 
 and the dress has not lengthened with me, 
 therefore I have no dress." 
 
 " It can be lengthened."
 
 184 CbtSon's 
 
 " It has been three times, and it cannot be 
 matched." 
 
 " How is it that you have nothing to wear?" 
 
 Chiffon was angry, and said that with five 
 louis a month for her toilette, including 
 shoes, gloves, hats, riding habits, etc., she 
 could not buy evening dresses. 
 
 M. de Bray intervened. " Go and get what 
 you wish and send me the bill." 
 
 " Thanks, papa ! I will get a lovely white 
 dress for the prince's ball." 
 
 Her mother's voice was raised in a threat- 
 ening manner, "I forbid you to call it the 
 prince's ball!" After a little silence she 
 added : " It is understood that you will go to 
 the dinner." 
 
 Chiffon protested that she would not. 
 
 " Well, in this case you will go on horse- 
 back and say to Madame Barfleur that you 
 dine on Saturday with your Aunt de Launay 
 and cannot accept her invitation." 
 
 " Oh yes," Coryse said laughingly; " I will 
 tell a good story and bring you all in. I will 
 go and dress, and if I am to return for my 
 studies I must trot." 
 
 Her mother told her in her most majestic
 
 Cblffon'0 /fcarriaae. 135 
 
 way that she would permit her to leave the 
 table this time before the end of breakfast. 
 " Don't take this, however, in the future as a 
 precedent." 
 
 Coryse replied peevishly that she would 
 remain if she wished. She could send John 
 with a note which would answer as well. 
 She then resumed her seat. 
 
 " You will go !" her mother ordered. 
 
 "No, I won't! You have some project on 
 hand in sending me to the Barfleurs." 
 
 Madame de Bray became red and denied 
 the accusation. 
 
 Again the marquis tried to smooth mat- 
 ters. " Come, little Chiffon, do as mamma 
 wishes." 
 
 Coryse looked at him and gave him a touch 
 of warning under the table. It was too late, 
 the marchioness had heard this common word 
 mamma, and was furious with her husband. 
 She turned to Chiffon and ordered her from 
 the room. 
 
 "Yes, I will go," her daughter answered, 
 folding her napkin with affected slowness. 
 In going out she said between her teeth, 
 "Oh I if M. d'Aubi&res was not so oldP
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON arriving in the court of the Barfleur 
 chateau, a large building of brick and granite 
 of the Louis XV. period, Coryse saw the 
 viscountess at the window of the ground floor 
 very busy covering little jars of preserves. 
 She was so deeply absorbed in her work that 
 she did not hear the horses on their arrival. 
 At first Chiffon thought she would ride near 
 the window and have her little chat there, 
 but feeling that this would not be quite the 
 polite thing she dismounted at the stables, 
 where she was told that the viscountess was 
 at home. 
 
 She was shown into the billiard-room, 
 where she was kept waiting a long time. 
 Pacing up and down this naked room without 
 a picture or a book or a flower, she said to 
 herself angrily : 
 
 "Is that Barflenr woman going to finish 
 covering those jars of sweetmeats before she 
 receives me/'
 
 GbffTon's /Barrfage. 137 
 
 Finally the servant appeared. "If Miss 
 d'Avesnes will come, the viscountess will be 
 happy to see her in the drawing-room. I 
 have been looking for her in the park." 
 
 Coryse thought: "No, she was in the 
 basement, but thinks it would not be chic for 
 me to know it." 
 
 She trotted behind the servant through a 
 long suite of rooms which looked rather bare. 
 " Oh," she said shivering, " it is not amusing 
 here. Father Ragon and mother Barfleur 
 are mistaken if they think that I am going to 
 marry ' Two farthings of butter. ' Oh no !" 
 
 On the arrival of the Duke d'Aubieres in 
 the county he had seen little Barfleur stand- 
 ing near a door at a ball, and had asked Uncle 
 Marc : " Who is that little man as large as 
 two farthings of butter?" At the Brays' and 
 other houses this name had stuck to him. 
 
 Coryse was shown into a little parlor, bet- 
 ter furnished and more comfortable than the 
 rest of the chateau. Seated near a window, 
 her long thin waist drawn into a dress of gray 
 foulard with yellow dots, the viscountess 
 seemed to be absorbed in le Gaulois. The 
 little girl thought, " It is strange the dress
 
 188 CWtTon's /ifcarrfage. 
 
 of the preserves was gray. She has put on 
 this fine frock to receive me. She has 
 dressed tip for Chiffon! Since Uncle Marc 
 has inherited money!" 
 
 " My dear child," the viscountess said in 
 rising to meet Coryse, " what good wind has 
 brought you?" Without giving her time to 
 reply she said, " How lovely you are in your 
 riding-habit ! What a darling !" 
 
 "Darling!" Chiffon repeated, glancing at 
 her big arms and large hands, and all her 
 person a little awkward; " they don't tell me 
 this at home !" 
 
 Madame de Barfleur was not abashed. 
 " Yes you are a charming creature !" She 
 drew the long band of old tapestry on silk 
 canvas which served as a bell-rope. " My poor 
 Hugues will be so distressed to miss this lit- 
 tle visit; he has gone to look at his horses in 
 a field near the sea. I will send for him." 
 
 " Oh, madame," Coryse said quite energeti- 
 cally, " I must be going. I have my studies 
 at four o'clock." 
 
 The servant came in. 
 
 " Say to Master Hugues " 
 
 Coryse explained that she only came to
 
 Cbtffon'e jflBarrfage. 139 
 
 tell her that her mother had quite forgotten 
 her engagement to dine with her Aunt de 
 Launay on Saturday when she accepted for 
 her. 
 
 Madame de Barfleur would not hear of 
 this arrangement, and begged that she would 
 change her plans. 
 
 Chiffon did not answer, but listened smil- 
 ingly during the pulling of the bell for the 
 young man, and thought, " It will take him 
 at least a quarter of an hour to come up from 
 the river, and in five minutes I will be off." 
 
 The viscountess insisted: " Do come, dear 
 little Coryse! tell me that you will find a 
 way. You will be the soul and joy of this 
 dinner." 
 
 " Me? when I am never at my ease or say 
 three words." 
 
 Madame de Barfleur begged to know why, 
 and Chiffon, blushing, told her that she had 
 no confidence in herself and that was quite 
 plain. Then excusing herself she hoped to 
 get off, but was asked to remain to lunch, 
 which she declined. 
 
 The viscountess rose with her and begged 
 that she might see her mount, as her son had
 
 140 Cbfffon's Carriage. 
 
 told her how adorable she was on horse- 
 back. 
 
 " This is detestable !" Corsye said to her- 
 self ; " they are all alike." 
 
 At the moment that old John led the horses 
 to the steps, the Viscount de Barfleur came 
 running into the court. He took the hand 
 which Chiffon extended toward him and 
 kissed it most respectfully. Little accus- 
 tomed to this sort of thing, she burst out 
 laughing. In comparing the manner of 
 mother and son with "their conduct only fif- 
 teen days before, a great awakening seized 
 her and she almost thought aloud, " This is 
 an odious type !" 
 
 When Coryse came near Josephine, her 
 very beautiful and high-blooded mare, the 
 viscount ran toward her, placing his hands 
 together to assist her in mounting. She 
 glanced at the frail young man bending his 
 poor little back, and at his thin neck and 
 enormous head, and the poor arms exposed 
 when pushing back his plaid cuffs of exag- 
 gerated English style. 
 
 " Surely he would drop me on the road," 
 she thought.
 
 Cfctffon's fl&arrfagc. 141 
 
 Trying to be as gracious as possible, she 
 motioned to John to bring the horses, saying 
 that she was awkward and mounted best 
 with her servant. He still insisted, but she 
 declined, telling him that he had no idea how 
 heavy she was. 
 
 She placed the tip of her boot in old John's 
 palm, and, bowing to the mother and son, 
 cantered off at a fast rate, showing off to ad- 
 vantage her supple figure upon her beautiful 
 Josephine. 
 
 As soon as Chiffon had left the park she 
 turned into the wood. She wanted to gallop 
 in the beautiful green lanes, which was rest- 
 ful in her excited state. 
 
 " Oh, one can't be left alone for a moment! 
 Two weeks ago I was tormented to marry M. 
 d'Aubieres. Now it is little Barfleur." 
 
 She was not only annoyed at this new 
 struggle brought upon her, but her self- 
 esteem was greatly wounded. The proposal 
 of M. d'Aubieres was flattering, but that of 
 M. Barfleur was humiliating. She knew that 
 the attentions of " Two farthings of butter" 
 had been very slight when she was poor, and 
 this thought made her detest this little fellow
 
 148 Cbiffon's Carriage. 
 
 with his big mustache and bandied legs. She 
 thought of d'Aubieres as a great man, but 
 Barfleur as the little Barfieur. 
 
 Chiffon was so healthy and buxom that she 
 recoiled from delicacy she began to think, 
 on the way to Pont-sur-Sarthe, " If he should 
 ever try to kiss me as d'Aubieres did, I would 
 slap him in the face. I could not help it. I 
 don't care, but this is going to be a tiresome 
 affair; if I refuse him my mother will be 
 down upon me. It would be best for the 
 refusal to come from the Barfleurs. Oh, 
 this old beast Father Ragon ! He has man- 
 aged this ! I am right in being afraid of the 
 Jesuits !" She stopped in the road whitened 
 by the sun. " It will be dreadful to come 
 down this way to Pont-sur-Sarthe ! I will try 
 the road behind the furnace. At this hour 
 there are not too many smoking meat, and I 
 hope Josephine will go by gently." 
 
 On turning the mare in this direction she 
 began to prick up her ears at the noise which 
 came from below in a little path between the 
 wood and the forge. 
 
 At a turn in the road Coryse saw, a hun- 
 dred yards below her, a gentleman talking to
 
 Cbtffon's /Carriage. 148 
 
 some workmen seated on the edge of the 
 wood. 
 
 "Oh!" she said, turning to John, "there 
 they are ! I have missed my studies. It is 
 four o'clock!" and winking her eyes, she 
 stopped to try and see if it was not Count 
 d'Axen. 
 
 " Oh yes, Miss Coryse, I am quite sure it 
 Is he." 
 
 In a turn of the road Chiffon lost sight of 
 the group, but soon heard their voices quite 
 plainly. 
 
 " Yes," the prince said, whose musical voice 
 she recognized " yes, it is good, this profes- 
 sion of faith, and if I was an elector in this 
 country I would not hesitate to give my voice 
 to him who has written it." 
 
 Chiffon turned the bend of the road. " Oh 
 it is you, sir!" she said no more, guessing 
 vaguely that he might prefer not to be ad- 
 dressed by name here, and he thanked her 
 by a sign in his reply : 
 
 " Yes, Miss d'Avesnes, it is I." 
 
 " Look here, sir," said one of the workmen, 
 laughing, " there is a pretty young lady for 
 you,"
 
 144 Cbfffon'0 
 
 " What is it?" Coryse asked. 
 
 " This is a gentleman who says as you do, 
 that %ve had better vote for M. de Bray." 
 
 Chiffon said with an air of conviction, " At 
 least you would not nominate M. de Bernay?" 
 
 " Oh no, we would not do that again!" 
 
 " Ah, well, since you know that Charlie 
 would not be elected?" 
 
 " Yes that is true ! but I cannot get over M. 
 de Bray's being a viscount." 
 
 " He also is worried at this," Chiffon added, 
 "but it is not his fault " 
 
 " Why did he sign his placard Viscount de 
 Bray?" 
 
 " Why? Because it is "his name. Would 
 you prefer that he should deceive you and 
 present himself differently from what he is?" 
 
 Seeing the number of bottles and the sau- 
 sages and cheese on the grass, Chiffon asked 
 them if they had not had a good lunch. A 
 dark-looking workman got up and pointed to 
 Count d'Axen. " It is this gentleman who 
 has feasted us; but for him " 
 
 Old John, red and perspiring, looked at 
 the bottles with a longing eye. 
 
 Coryse pointed him out to one of the men,
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. 146 
 
 and said, " If you want to be very good you 
 will give him a glass of something, for he 
 must be very warm." 
 
 The workman glanced at the bottle and 
 excused himself. " If we did not offer it to 
 him, it was seeing that he was a lackey, when 
 the masters were here." 
 
 " He is not my lackey ; he is my nurse," 
 and Chiffon called him to have a drink. 
 
 Old John came forward, saying he was too 
 thirsty to refuse ; " And you, Miss Coryse, 
 you must be thirsty too." 
 
 The workman ran to the brook to rinse the 
 glass for her. 
 
 She came forward with her glass and said 
 in a clear voice, " Your health !" 
 
 The workmen got up. " It is rather to the 
 health of monsieur, who has treated us, that 
 we should drink" pointing to Count d' Axen. 
 
 " And I," the prince replied " I propose to 
 drink to the health of the candidate." 
 
 " That is so !" Coryse said, " to the health 
 of Uncle Marc !" 
 
 One of the workmen asked if she was the 
 niece of M. de Bray? 
 
 "Oh, yes," Chiffon said, looking at the 
 10
 
 148 Cbfffon'8 dfcarriage. 
 
 prince, who laughed at her absence of 
 mind. 
 
 The workman added, " Oh, we knew you 
 well, but we don't know your name. Your 
 friends are principally those funny people 
 down there in the city." Turning toward the 
 Count d'Axen he continued: "This young 
 lady has always money in her pockets for us 
 when she passes by on horseback, and at 
 Christmas fills her carriage with boxes of 
 toys. His small, hard eyes softened a little, 
 and he said : " If all the rich were as Miss 
 d'Avesnes and monsieur things would be bet- 
 ter. Many of them doubt this misery, and 
 until now I have known only these." 
 
 "I also," Chiffon added, thinking of her 
 mother. She then asked Count d'Axen if he 
 was going toward Pont-sur-Sarthe. 
 
 He begged to be permitted to join her. 
 " We had best take the road through the wood, 
 this is so full of rolling stones." 
 
 When they had gotten into the wood 
 Coryse heard the voice of the workman who 
 was discoursing about her: " I have an idea 
 that these two are engaged!" 
 
 Coryse turned laughingly toward the prince
 
 Cbtffon's dBarrfage, 147 
 
 and told him the speech. He bowed cour- 
 teously. 
 
 " I regret that they are mistaken." 
 
 " Do you regret it? That is so nice and 
 polite of you! Do you see the appearance 
 that I would make as queen? No, do you see 
 it? What would you do with me?" and after 
 a minute she added, " And what would 1 do 
 with you?" 
 
 He began to laugh : " How old are you, 
 Miss Coryse?" 
 
 " I will be sixteen in May; and how old are 
 you, monsieur?" 
 
 " I will be twenty-four in eight days." 
 Feeling some scruple, he asked if her mother 
 would permit her to ride with young men. 
 
 " No, not generally, but you are a sover- 
 eign! That is not a young man; it doesn't 
 count," and blushing she added, " It counts 
 too much to count." Changing the conver- 
 sation she asked him if he was not afraid to 
 do as he had done a stranger on the side of 
 the opposition. 
 
 "Oh no; my political opposition consists 
 in saying to the workmen, if I was in their 
 place I would vote for your uncle."
 
 148 Gbfffon's fllbarriage. 
 
 " That is so, but in your place I would be 
 afraid. I wish M. d'Aubieres was here; he 
 would tell you what you should or should 
 not do, for you seem to me to be a little 
 young yet for these things." 
 
 " You are interested in me?" and the prince 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 " I am interested without being interested." 
 
 " That is something ! How one can be de- 
 ceived ! I could have sworn, and I am some- 
 thing of a prophet, that not only you were 
 not interested in me, but that I was antipa- 
 thetic to you." 
 
 "That is true," Coryse said frankly, "until 
 this moment; and you now seem to be a fine 
 fellow." 
 
 " Then we are friends?" 
 
 "Yes, oh, my lord, I must ask pardon; I 
 have spoken unkindly to you." 
 
 " Oh no !" 
 
 "Yes, I have not said often enough, 'my 
 lord,' and I have never said 'your highness.' " 
 
 " Oh, don't bother yourself about that : and 
 as we are friends now, will you tell me why 
 we were not before? That is, you I had not 
 the same repulsion, I assure you."
 
 Cblffon's /Carriage. 149 
 
 "Yes, I will tell you; it was instinct. I 
 don't love foreigners, and I detest Protest- 
 ants, and as you are both, you can under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Yes, I do, but what have you against 
 foreigners?" 
 
 " Oh, I can't forgive them for not being 
 Frenchmen, and for being Protestants? a 
 lot of things! They are intriguers, false, 
 hypocrites. I acknowledge some exceptions. " 
 
 " Naturally me?" 
 
 She laughed. " Not only you but some 
 others. I speak of the mass of Protestants 
 in France especially. They are the only 
 ones I know." 
 
 " Seeing this repulsion with which I have 
 inspired you, I suppose you took me for a 
 spy." 
 
 "Oh, my lord, never! I think spies are 
 often suspected where they do not exist, like 
 the mad dogs who are killed when they are 
 not." 
 
 Returning to a subject which interested 
 her, Chiffon told him it was so nice of him to 
 work for the election of Uncle Marc. 
 
 " Don't be so grateful for this, for I must
 
 150 Cbfffon's flfcarriage. 
 
 confess the conversation you heard was by 
 chance. These men took care of my horse 
 while I visited the furnace. 1 did not know 
 who held him, and feared if I gave money to 
 one, the others would be down upon me, so I 
 went to the inn and brought them a lunch. 
 They offered to drink with me, and in drink- 
 ing with them I talked about the candidate 
 whose bill was placarded on the buildings of 
 the furnace. You see that my propaganda 
 came from a little thing after all." 
 
 " It serves the purpose. You will see how 
 nice Uncle Marc is, now that he has come 
 back. I know that you will find the house 
 less tiresome." 
 
 But the prince protested. *' I have not " 
 
 Chiffon interrupted him : " You could not 
 of course acknowledge this to me, and, my 
 lord, you were not shocked at Uncle Marc's 
 socialistic proclamation because he is a 
 socialist." 
 
 " But /am also a socialist!" 
 
 She begged him not to speak of that at 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe ; that would not look well. 
 "So you are a socialist, my lord, that will 
 not prevent you from reigning?"
 
 Cbfffon's /Rarrfage. 151 
 
 " I hope not, but if it does prevent I will 
 resign. That would be the right thing, would 
 it not?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " It would be very easy ; I have six brothers ; 
 aud you, Miss Coryse, came to make an elec- 
 tioneering tour when I had the pleasure of 
 meeting you?" 
 
 " No, I had a commission at the Barfleurs." 
 
 " Is not M. Barfleur a little man and very 
 thin? Is he not also very English?" 
 
 " Yes, of the kind at Pont-sur-Sarthe." 
 
 " Has he not also a very beautiful chateau?" 
 
 "Tolerably pretty, but his mother owns 
 it." 
 
 " Is his mother agreeable?" 
 
 " Oh no, she is a big woman, forever pos- 
 ing, and assumes a sad look. I am always 
 tempted to call her the unfortunate princess ; 
 and he they call him Two farthings of 
 butter" 
 
 As Count d'Axen laughed, Chiffon ex- 
 plained: 
 
 " I am not wicked or satirical, you know, 
 but I can't bear the Barfleurs!" 
 
 " There are only mother and son?*
 
 153 Cbtffon'0 flfcarrlage. 
 
 44 That is indeed enough, of them.** 
 
 " I will probably meet them at the ball to 
 be given by your mother the day of the 
 races." 
 
 " You will certainly meet them, but what 
 good will come of it?" 
 
 " I am curious to see how provincial society 
 appears after Paris ; that I know a little." 
 
 " If you knew how mean it is ! pinchbeck, 
 all on the same level. I know that you are 
 above all this." 
 
 " But I am not above anything." 
 
 " Outwardly if you will; and now, my lord, 
 I think it would be better for you not to men- 
 tion that we rode together alone?" 
 
 " Oh you are afraid of the pinchbecks?" 
 
 " No, but I fear that my mother might take 
 me away if she hears this." 
 
 " Then what must I do?" 
 
 " Don't speak of it, and I will not, if they 
 don't ask me, and as they will not ask it is 
 not probable that they will guess our meet- 
 ing." 
 
 " If by chance they should guess, we would 
 say yes." 
 
 " That is understood, and now we had bet-
 
 Cbfffon'0 flfcarrfage. 153 
 
 ter separate before going out of the wood. 
 I must beg pardon for all my faults, my 
 lord?" and she added with a laugh: " I bow 
 most profoundly to your highness." 
 
 The prince took off his hat with a grand 
 air and laughingly replied, " I salute you 
 most profoundly, Miss Chiffon !"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FOR eight or nine days Chiffon could not 
 move without meeting little Barfleur. He 
 came also to the Brays very often under the 
 pretext of commissions sent by his mother. 
 One evening Coryse found him installed by 
 her mother in the dining-room. She saw the 
 viscount arrive in his little wagon about six 
 o'clock, and she thought he had left long ago. 
 The marchioness seemed to be in fine humor 
 and said that M. de Barfleur had promised to 
 dine with them, and they would take him 
 back in the carriage in the afternoon. 
 
 During the heated term M. and Mme. de 
 Bray drove every day after dinner, taking 
 Chiffon with them. The ordeal was odious to 
 the little girl. Seated in the landau opposite 
 her parents she could neither budge nor 
 laugh, so she remained quiet and bored, as 
 she was always in her mother's presence, 
 always dreading a scene. 
 
 When Marc de Bray entered the room his 
 154
 
 Cblffon's flfoarrtage. 156 
 
 face expressed astonishment in seeing little 
 Barfleur. Coryse began to laugh, and when 
 her mother came in (he dining-room on the 
 arm of the viscount she said to Uncle Marc, 
 who seemed thoroughly annoyed, " You did 
 not expect this, did you?" 
 
 Without appearing to notice the anxious 
 look of his brother he replied, " Well, he be- 
 longs to the house now, ' Two farthings of 
 butter. 1 * 
 
 "Not yet," Chiffon said laughingly, "but 
 he is trying to be !" 
 
 Uncle Marc stopped short. "What is it 
 you mean to say?" 
 
 M. de Bray with an imploring look pushed 
 them before him ; " Go in, my children go 
 in!" 
 
 The marchioness with an angry expression 
 pointed to M. Barfleur standing behind his 
 chair waiting for them. From the beginning 
 of the dinner the viscount, being placed op- 
 posite Coryse, began to gaze at her passion- 
 ately and persisted in it. The little girl was 
 so near-sighted that she scarcely noticed it, 
 but Marc de Bray was very angry at the 
 impertinence.
 
 156 Cbfffon's 
 
 "What is the matter, uncle? You look as 
 if you could gnash your teeth?" 
 
 "I am vexed," he answered "It is noth- 
 ing! I have a headache." 
 
 Notwithstanding the pretended sickness he 
 chatted away with his niece without giving 
 her time to turn her head to one side or the 
 other. 
 
 The marchioness, much worried at this 
 conduct, tried to get Chiffon to join in the 
 general conversation, but she always avoided 
 it. Not being able to gain her point by tact, 
 she decided to break the ice. 
 
 "Coryse! Your conduct is decidedly out 
 of place ! You are making a noise, but we 
 can't hear what you say !" 
 
 The little girl was quiet and did not finish 
 a sentence begun, indeed did not open her 
 mouth again. 
 
 The marchioness added: " I don't prevent 
 you from talking or replying to M. Barfleur, 
 who says that " 
 
 Chiffon in a very gentle and polished tone 
 said: " M. Barfleur only talks of hunting and 
 races, and I detest them and know nothing 
 about them."
 
 Cbfffon's flfcarrfage. 157 
 
 Little Barfleur asked with much eagerness, 
 "What do you like to talk about, Miss 
 Coryse?" 
 
 She replied in the same modest tone, "I 
 am very happy in not talking at all." 
 
 " One would not have supposed that a short 
 time since," her mother chimed in with her 
 harsh voice. 
 
 "Oh yes," Coryse added, "I know that I 
 have been very noisy and must beg pardon ;" 
 looking steadily at her plate she remained 
 silent until the end of the dinner. 
 
 When coffee was served in the billiard- 
 room Chiffon went out and sat on the steps 
 in a big bamboo chair, rocking away and 
 looking at the stars which appeared pale in 
 the heavens, still light. She was aroused by 
 her mother, who came out with her hat on. 
 
 " What not ready? The carriage is com- 
 ing up ! Your carelessness is dreadful !" 
 
 The little girl did not stir. "I will come 
 when you return for something you have 
 forgotten." 
 
 Uncle Marc burst out laughing, and M. de 
 Bray turned his head to hide a smile. 
 The marchioness became purple and in a
 
 168 Cbiffon's Carriage. 
 
 threatening tone asked Chiffon what she 
 meant. 
 
 Chiffon repeated, quite unmoved, that 
 every evening she returned to the house for 
 something she had forgotten ; and in a low 
 tone added, " This evening you may return 
 twice." Her allusion was to one of the 
 weaknesses of her mother, a weakness that 
 the marchioness thought no one guessed, so 
 confident was she of overruling any opinion 
 which might not be flattering to her. Ador- 
 ing luxury and show, all that to her mind 
 might astonish and charm the public, Madame 
 de Bray had wheedled her husband into 
 changing his carriages and liveries, which 
 were chosen by him with elegant simplicity. 
 The landau, a blue body embossed with a 
 big coat-of-arms, and light red wheels, was 
 very grotesque, but the marchioness was 
 only happy when going from one end of 
 Pont-sur-Sarthe to the other in this conspicu- 
 ous carriage. That was her reason for insist- 
 ing so often upon being accompanied by her 
 daughter. When the little girl was too much 
 bored to go she took the victoria, which was 
 more modest
 
 Cbfffon's Aarriage. 159 
 
 When Madame de Bray had taken an 
 affected pose in the landau with its glittering 
 harness and startling coat-of-arms, and could 
 pass before the restaurants at the hour for 
 vermouth or coffee, her joy was full. At six 
 and eight o'clock the sidewalk was full of 
 tables; the officers and swells of Pont-sur- 
 Sarthe were out in full force at Gilbert's, the 
 fashionable restaurant, or at the Cafe Per- 
 ault. Instead of telling her coachman to 
 take a fine macadamized road somewhat de- 
 serted but leading directly out of the town, 
 she ordered him to pass by the places hor- 
 ribly paved with little slippery stones. Often 
 in entering one of these streets she would 
 suddenly order the coachman to return to the 
 house. Chiffon knew well her little way, 
 * Oh I have forgotten my parasol, or my 
 cloak, or my muff, or my handkerchief," 
 which obliged the coachman to pass for the 
 third time before the cafe. She had a horror 
 of these exhibitions, and when she saw the 
 curious faces turned toward the carriage and 
 heard the noise of the spurs and swords of 
 the officers which were raised to salute them, 
 she lowered her eyes, saying in a discontented
 
 160 Cbtffon'0 dBarrfage. 
 
 way, " Do they really feel all this to-do they 
 are making over us?" she was furious, so 
 simple in her character, hating exaggeration 
 and being mixed up with this ridicule of her 
 mother. The marquis and his brother had 
 often talked about what the servants called a 
 false start, but they had never spoken of this 
 to Chiffon and were greatly amused by her 
 reply. 
 
 The marchioness walked up to her daugh- 
 ter and in hissing tones asked what she 
 meant by saying that she might return twice 
 this evening. She came so near that her lips 
 touched the saucy little nose of the child. 
 
 "Why?" Coryse replied; "because this 
 evening you have Two farthings of butter to 
 show to the public," having assured herself 
 that little Barfleur, who pretended that he 
 was looking for his hat at the end of the room, 
 could not hear. While explaining herself she 
 thought, in a few minutes she would be ap- 
 pearing before the world seated by the side 
 of the viscount in the startling blue landau. 
 Nothing more was needed in Pont-sur-Sarthe 
 to convince them of an engagement, and this 
 Coryse wished to escape at all events. She
 
 Cbitfon'0 flfcarrfase. 101 
 
 had never before thought herself of much 
 importance. In her own eyes she was always 
 Chiffon, the teller of funny little stories, that 
 no one took seriously. M. d'Aubieres' pro- 
 posal and Father Ragon's insinuations had 
 made her realize that she was now a young 
 girl that was loved by one, and "that the pro- 
 tege of the other feigned love. Before giving 
 her mother time for another scene, she said : 
 
 " Don't give yourself any trouble about 
 me. I am tired and won't go out." 
 
 " That is not so ! You are never tired, it is 
 a pretext." 
 
 " Be it so, I will not go out this evening." 
 
 "You will go out." 
 
 " I ask your permission to remain at home." 
 
 " Go and put on your hat !" 
 
 As Chiffon did not move, she seized her 
 violently by the wrists. 
 
 The child broke away from her and said 
 gently, " It is ridiculous, this scene before a 
 stranger." 
 
 The marchioness, turning toward M. Bar- 
 fleur and suddenly changing her expression 
 into smiles, said : " Oh ! M. Barfleur is nearly 
 a member of the family." 
 XI
 
 163 CfcftTon's fl&arrfage. 
 
 "What!" the little girl replied, "I think 
 not. He does not begin to be one of the 
 family." 
 
 After a little silence the marquis and Two 
 farthings of butter, with coats on their arms 
 and sticks in their hands, awaited the signal 
 for departure. 
 
 Assuming a gracious air, the marchioness, 
 turning to Coryse, said, " If I insist upon your 
 going with us, my reason is that it is not 
 proper for you to remain alone in the 
 house." 
 
 "I stay alone constantly; and besides I am 
 not alone, Uncle Marc is with me." 
 
 " But your uncle probably may go out." 
 
 Marc answered coldly : " You know very 
 well, my dear sister-in-law, that I never go 
 out in the evening." 
 
 " Then I leave Corysande with you." 
 
 Uncle Marc was a little nervous, and with 
 a shrug of his shoulders, said, " Be sure that 
 I will take good care of her. I won't let her 
 get dirty or play with the light." 
 
 As little Barfleur leaned toward the hand 
 which Coryse gave him mechanically and 
 imprinted a long kiss upon it, he took his
 
 Cbiffon'0 flbarrtefle. 188 
 
 niece by the arm and whirling her around 
 said, " Let us go ; do come, Chiffon 1" 
 
 When they were in the parlor together, 
 Coryse said gayly to her Uncle Marc: 
 "There was a little scuffle this afternoon 1 
 And I was not necessary, as there was a 
 third to force her to take the landau." 
 
 Seeing her uncle take his seat under the 
 lamp and undo the wraps from his papers, 
 she said: "Don't feel obliged to stay with 
 me." 
 
 " I was going to say the same thing to you." 
 
 " Oh, I can do my work any where ; only 
 when papa goes out you usually do your 
 work in your room." 
 
 He answered laughingly, " Yes but those 
 were winter evenings. You were never 
 placed especially under my care until to-day." 
 
 Coryse got her tapestry, all bristling with 
 animals and funny warriors that she copied 
 from the designs of the tapestries of Bayeux, 
 and seated herself by Uncle Marc. In a 
 moment he stopped reading and looked over 
 his paper at the little dishevelled head lean- 
 ing so attentively over the diapered silk. 
 
 " Chiffon," he asked suddenly, " when be-
 
 164 Cbfffon'0 flfcarrfage* 
 
 fore dinner, in speaking of this young goin- 
 meaux, 'Oh, he is a part of the house now,' 
 you answered, 'Not yet, but he is trying 
 to be.'" 
 
 " Oh yes," she said with her nose in the air. 
 
 " Well, I did not quite understand what you 
 meant." 
 
 " I meant to say that ' Two farthings of but- 
 ter' wished to marry me." 
 
 The viscount jumped up. " That is what I 
 guessed, but I could not believe it; and you 
 speak so quietly of it to marry you ! This 
 grotesque! It would be monstrous." 
 
 " Oh, you may be quiet, he will never 
 marry me," Chiffon said laughingly. 
 
 Uncle Marc whispered, " How glad I am !" 
 and she looked lovingly at him. 
 
 "You are so good to interest yourself so 
 much in me !" After a little silence she 
 added, " You are the cause of his wishing to 
 marry me." 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 " Yes: as soon as they heard of your inher- 
 itance there was a rumor that I would be 
 very rich, that you would give me a dot, and 
 leave me all your fortune."
 
 Cbfffon's 
 
 " That is true !" 
 
 " But your children?" 
 
 "/have children?" 
 
 " No but when you are married " 
 
 " I will never marry, my Chiffon. I would 
 be afraid of stumbling upon a wpman like " 
 He was going to say, " like your mother;" he 
 stopped and said, " like some I have known. 
 No, I am suspicious, and will remain an old 
 bachelor." 
 
 "Oh, so much the better! Then if you 
 wish " 
 
 " If I wish?" 
 
 " I will go and live with you. I will keep 
 the house. I don't want to marry either. 
 When I am twenty-one I certainly will never 
 stay here, not a day. Notwithstanding 
 poor papa, who is so good, though I have 
 often failed in duty. I know that in other 
 ways my absence would smooth away many 
 of the little difficulties of existence; but 
 never mind, he will regret his Chiffon." 
 
 The viscount, quite amazed, asked where 
 she would go. 
 
 " I have always thought that I would ask 
 Uncle Albert and Aunt Matilda to take me
 
 iw Cbiffon's /Rarrtage. 
 
 back again ; but if you would like me I would 
 be so happy ! I love you so much ! if you 
 only knew ! Yes, more than papa 1 love you. 
 It may be wrong, but I can't help it ;" and in 
 a passionate voice she finished. Leaning 
 toward him, palpitating and tender, " I adore 
 you, Uncle Marc !" 
 
 Leaning back on his chair, somewhat pale, 
 he whispered, " I do not deserve being adored, 
 my little Chiffon." 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 "Instead of keeping house for your old 
 bearish uncle you will marry and have a 
 lot of squalling babies who will take the 
 place of Gribouille and old John." 
 
 She answered gravely: "May I tell you? 
 I am sure that I will never marry ; no one 
 charms me!" 
 
 " What? There is poor d* Aubieres, a hand- 
 some fellow, good and intelligent, but he 
 begins to be a little old; as to the other he is 
 a little monster." 
 
 Coryse began to laugh. " Don't say that 
 to Madame Delorme!" 
 
 " Oh, you are au courant with the pinch- 
 becks also? Madame Delorme is simply an
 
 Cblffon's Aarrfage. 17 
 
 idiot, and what she likes in Barfleur is his 
 name his title his English costumes hi 
 horses and chateau." 
 
 " I suppose so, but it's something to "be able 
 to love somebody. I feel that I can never 
 love any one." 
 
 He asked, a little disturbed, " Probably you 
 love some one now?" 
 
 "Never in my life!" Chiffon answered 
 with such conviction that Uncle Marc smiled, 
 completely reassured. 
 
 She added: "No one pleases me to 
 marry I mean. There is Paul de Lussy, wha 
 is thought so nice, and M. de Trene; I don't 
 want them ! I know that all this is ridicu- 
 lous, and that I have no right to be so hard to 
 please, with my appearance." 
 
 " With your appearance? What do you 
 mean?" Uncle Marc asked. 
 
 "Why, I am ugly!" 
 
 He stammered, " Ugly? Your 
 
 She answered sadly : " Oh, I know it, and 
 that annoys me enough !" 
 
 " Your mother told you this. You are 
 pretty very pretty. Do you understand?" 
 
 44 You tell me this to make me happy, or
 
 168 Cbiffon's 
 
 probably you think so because you love me 
 so much." 
 
 " Listen to me, Chiffon," Uncle Marc said. 
 " I repeat it seriously, that you are, and that 
 you will be in two or three years a very 
 beautiful woman. Do you think that Au- 
 bieres, who has had " 
 
 As he stopped Coryse asked: "Who has 
 had what?" 
 
 " I mean, do you think that Aubieres, who 
 has known so many, would have been so 
 captivated with you if you were not pretty? 
 No ! you should know what you really are, 
 and you can believe your old uncle who tells 
 you so." 
 
 Then the little girl was joyful. " Chiffon 
 Is a pretty woman ! a pretty woman ! How 
 funny! I am so happy, and so thankful to 
 you for telling me, but that will not prevent 
 my keeping your house? on the contrary," 
 cajoling, " I beg you, Uncle Marc I beg you 
 to say yes, and don't go away, don't leave 
 me here without you? If you knew how hor- 
 rible these fifteen days have been? I cannot 
 live without you ! I cannot !" 
 
 Gliding down from her low chair Coryse
 
 Gbtffon's /iBarrfage. 169 
 
 seated herself on the ground like a baby, and 
 leaning on the viscount's knees her little 
 bead, which in the pale light of the lamp was 
 like a nest of silvered moss, she begged 
 plaintively with her tearful eyes : " Don't go 
 away again? tell me never?" 
 
 With a movement almost brutal he tried to 
 rise. She forced him to sit down with her 
 arms clasped around him, and asked and 
 pleaded: "Will you send me away? Why 
 do you treat me so? I have often thought 
 you were not the same; you used to take me 
 on your knees and kiss me." 
 
 He answered coldly: " Formerly you were 
 a child. Now you are past the age for this." 
 
 While two big tears rolled down on her 
 pink cheeks she said, " One is always of an 
 age to be loved." 
 
 "I do love you; I love you dearly," Marc 
 de Bray answered with emotion, " only I beg 
 you to stop this and sit down." While he 
 tried to repulse her the bell of the gate rang, 
 by a timid and hesitating hand. 
 
 Uncle Marc held up Chiffon a little roughly. 
 "Get up; one must not behave in this way. 
 Suppose it is a visitor?"
 
 170 Cbfffon's Carriage. 
 
 She got up and said laughingly, " A visi- 
 tor? Who rings like that? When a man 
 rings like that ne is probably the lover ot the 
 cook." 
 
 The servant entered, announcing the Count 
 d'Axen. 
 
 Coryse said, " The marchioness has gone 
 out." 
 
 Uncle Marc said in a low tone, " Receive 
 him," and was somewhat relieved. 
 
 Chifton, somewhat surprised, begged him 
 not to receive the count, saying how angry 
 she was at the interruption. They were so 
 happy together! Seeing her uncle looked 
 pale, she was anxious to know the cause. 
 
 " Oh it is only the heat," her uncle said, 
 "and it will be over in a minute." 
 
 He advanced to meet the prince, but Chif- 
 fon followed him pensively. 
 
 "My lord, my sister-in-law is out; it is my 
 niece who presents me to your highness." 
 
 As the little girl seemed to be a thousand 
 leagues away from the situation, he called: 
 " Coryse! you did not understand?" 
 
 She ran gayly up to them ; " Oh, you can 
 say Chiffon, my lord knows the name well.
 
 Cblffon's flfcarrfage. 171 
 
 My lord, this is Uncle Marc, for whom you 
 electioneered in the country." 
 
 Turning to the viscount, who seemed sur- 
 prised, " I have not seen you alone since yes- 
 terday. Let me tell you ; on my return from 
 Barfleur I found my lord explaining to the 
 workmen of the upper furnace that they 
 must all vote for you. He will explain all 
 this much better himself." 
 
 Uncle Marc began to offer his thanks, but 
 Chiffon interrupted him: "You must not 
 speak of this at the house, that I met my lord 
 in the wood and rode with him," and turning 
 toward the prince she said : " It is not the 
 same thing with Uncle Marc. We- can say 
 anything to him." 
 
 Seeing the viscount listening with a grave 
 expression and eyebrows elevated, one of his 
 signs of discontent, she added sadly, " Ex- 
 cept to-day. I don't know what is the mat- 
 ter with him; he is not himself at all." 
 
 The prince explained that he had come to 
 thank Madame de Bray for her kind note. 
 
 "Another!" Chiffon thought; "she writes 
 then twice a day." 
 
 Count d'Axen went on to say that she had
 
 17S Cblffon'0 
 
 sent him invitations for her ball, and had also 
 sent him a list ot the invited should he wish 
 to add to it. He wished to return this list, 
 and placed the envelope on the table, adding 
 that he must not disturb them longer. 
 
 " My lord," Uncle Marc insisted, " if you 
 have no other engagement this evening we 
 will be charmed to have you stay." 
 
 Chiffon left the room to order tea. Then 
 she put Gribouille to sleep, and went to see 
 if her flowers had been watered. On her re- 
 turn she found the two men in earnest con- 
 versation about matters which interested 
 them deeply. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the prince left them, and 
 Uncle Marc went with -him to the gate. On 
 his return Coryse asked his opinion of him. 
 Uncle Marc said he found him so intelligent 
 and nice that he was surprised at Coryse, 
 who spoke of his being as tall as a bootjand 
 black or blacker than Carnot. 
 
 " But who do you think handsome?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know you!" 
 
 " Me?" 
 
 "Yes; I don't say that you are after the 
 Greek type, but I like you as you are. I detest
 
 Cbfffon'0 /Rarrfage. 173 
 
 fops and young men. I hate very young men ; 
 a man is not a man until he is thirty-five." 
 
 " It is a pity for poor d'Aubieres that your 
 limit goes back a little too far. I think the 
 prince very charming." 
 
 " So do I now since our ride in the 
 wood." 
 
 Uncle Marc raised his eyebrows again. 
 
 " Come, let us talk about this ride. Your 
 mother is quite right: you behave like a girl 
 badly reared. At your age should you be 
 riding alone in a wood with a young man?" 
 
 " What, a king?" 
 
 " A king is a man !" 
 
 " If you say so, but I was not alone." 
 
 " Yes, you had old John; he is an idiot!" 
 
 This distressed the little girl. " Oh, Uncle 
 Marc, how wicked you have become !" 
 
 " Wicked because I do not approve of your 
 fancies? because I don't encourage you in 
 flirting in the wood with all the do-nothings 
 in the road?" 
 
 "Now he is a good-for-nothing! a short 
 time ago he was a success!" 
 
 The viscount was angry : " I have had 
 enough of your manners. It is true I have
 
 174 Cbfffon's 
 
 spoiled you ; I have laughed at your behavior 
 like a runaway colt, which is no longer funny, 
 and if I have encouraged you in all this I 
 repent my course deeply." 
 
 In his firm voice one felt the hoarseness of 
 tears. Chiffon tried to take his hand, but he 
 drew it away violently. 
 
 Bowed down by most intense feeling which 
 she tried to hide, she stammered out feebly: 
 "Is it possible, Uncle Marc, that you have 
 changed while away?"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE day of the dinner at the Barfleurs M. 
 de Bray took a dreadful cold, which affected 
 his nose and lips and nearly closed his eyes. 
 He had so much fever that he told his wife 
 he would be utterly unable to go to the din- 
 ner, and would be obliged to go to bed until 
 the next day. The marchioness became 
 very angry, telling him that it was treating 
 the Barfleurs very badly, as they had invited 
 a party of fourteen and his absence wotild 
 leave the fatal number of thirteen at table. 
 She thought it would be very difficult so late 
 in the day to supply his place. 
 
 M. de Bray was sorely distressed to be 
 obliged to decline, but was too sick to go. 
 He laughingly said to his wife : 
 
 " You think that thirteen at table would 
 kill you in a year. I am sure that I would die 
 if I ventured out to-day and should be one of 
 the fourteen." 
 
 75
 
 170 Cbiffcn's 
 
 The marchioness proposed that Coryse 
 should be one of the number. 
 
 The little girl said, "Never!" with convic- 
 tion. 
 
 M. de Bray begged her: " My little Chiffon, 
 this would be so nice of you." 
 
 " Oh no! don't beg me," and thinking she 
 had an excellent excuse for staying at home, 
 she explained: "First, I must dine with 
 Uncle Marc ; he would be alone, as you would 
 go to bed." 
 
 Uncle Marc, who had not until then seen 
 to notice what was said, protested with 
 animation : 
 
 " Not at all ! Don't think about me. What 
 an idea! Upon my word, one would think 
 that I required a nurse." 
 
 "No; but you have always said that it 
 bored you to be alone at table." 
 
 " I never said that !" 
 
 " Oh yes, you have a hundred times." 
 
 "Very well; if you want to be a good 
 Chiffon you will go to this dinner with your 
 mother. You will go to please me." 
 
 The girl looked at him with astonishment, 
 almost with distress. "How is it," she
 
 Cbiffon's flfcarrtage. 177 
 
 thought, "after all that he has said to me 
 only two clays ago of little Barfleur, and of 
 this idea of marriage and all that, and now 
 he wants to send me down there I who go 
 nowhere? it would seem as if I was running 
 after him." So she answered: 
 
 " Under no circumstances will I go to the 
 Barfleurs" this evening." 
 
 " Why not!" her mother asked. 
 
 "I told you the other day; I have no 
 dress." 
 
 " The one your father has just given you?" 
 
 " I have ordered that for to-morrow ; it is 
 not finished." 
 
 "Very well. Your pompadour gown can 
 be quickly arranged." 
 
 " My friends have seen me in long dresses 
 for a year. They would be a little surprised; 
 they would be at a loss what to say. Be- 
 sides, if they don't add to it, with strong 
 thread, my pompadour frock will be above 
 my knees when 1 sit down." 
 
 Uncle Marc got up : " Go and get your 
 hat. I will take you, and 1 promise that you 
 will have a dress in time." 
 
 Coryse still resisted: " You are mad also 
 sa
 
 178 Cbflton's flfcarrtage. 
 
 to make me go down there. Very well; I 
 will go to please you." 
 
 Going out of the parlor she thought, giving 
 Uncle Marc a reproachful glance, " He does 
 not want to be alone with me like the other 
 evening; but, mon Diat, why not?" 
 
 'The viscount took Chiffon to the first dress- 
 maker in Pont-sur-Sarthe, one that she had 
 heard of only, and she mounted the steps 
 with respect. Not only her modest income 
 did not admit of her being dressed by Ma- 
 dame Bertin, but her mother did not employ 
 this great artist. Totally without taste, in- 
 capable of discerning the beauty of a dress 
 well cut, or the ugliness of one badly made; 
 not understanding differences in color or 
 trimmings, and only occupied with materials, 
 for her a woman's attire was reduced to what 
 ^ T as showy or not. In speaking of a dress or 
 of some material its effectiveness was her 
 only idea. No matter how delicious the stuff 
 it became an unknown quantity when judged 
 by this standard. Seeing some women wear- 
 ing it, she would say: "It is surprising that 
 Madame K. spends so much money and has 
 nothing which is effective." To her, tailors
 
 Cbiffon's flfcarrtage. 179 
 
 and expensive dressmakers were robbers. 
 She only thought of the commercial price of 
 materials, and could not comprehend that the 
 cut changed everything. 
 
 It was the same thing in art ; she could not 
 understand why fifteen thousand francs should 
 be given for a portrait, when one could be 
 procured much finer for two thousand. A 
 romance which was not stuffed with intrigue 
 was hollow, and she wondered how any one 
 could like Loti, who failed utterly in imag- 
 ination. 
 
 Then Madame de Bray bought materials 
 and had them made by obscure dressmakers 
 in Pont-sur-Sarthe, whose taste was abomina- 
 ble. Chiffon did the same thing and arrived 
 at the same results. Hers were a little bet- 
 ter chosen and so simple in style always the 
 same, a kind of Russian blouse scarcely de- 
 fining her elegant little body. 
 
 When Uncle Marc entered Madame Ber- 
 tin's parlor, followed by his niece, Coryse 
 was surprised to see that he knew the sales- 
 women, and soon her little brain was at work: 
 What had Uncle Marc to do with dressmakers 
 and those who did not serve Madame de Bray,
 
 180 Cbfffon's flbarrlage. 
 
 nor Luce de Givry, who dressed so simply, 
 nor even Madame de Bassigny, who feared to 
 meet doubtful people? 
 
 While waiting for Madame Bertin, who 
 was busy fitting some one, Chiffon began to 
 ask Uncle Marc questions: 
 
 M They seem to know you here? How is 
 that?" 
 
 " I came I have I designed some cos- 
 tumes for the ball at the Lussacs" last year." 
 
 She corrected him : " A costume, not some 
 costumes. Yes, I remember very well now; 
 it was for Madame de Liron." 
 
 " That, and others." 
 
 "No; that and not others. That was 
 enough of the pinchbecks f* 
 
 " Don't speak so loud I" 
 
 Chiffon said no one would hear. Pointing 
 to the saleswomen going to and fro, she re- 
 mained silent for a moment, perfectly ab- 
 sorbed, and all at once, as if continuing a 
 conversation with herself, muttered, " One 
 more woman who is deceiving her husband 
 Madame de Liron !" 
 
 "Hush!" her Uncle Marc begged, looking 
 around him with a disturbed expression " do
 
 Cbtffon'0 fl&arrtage. 181 
 
 hush, I pray!" In an angry tone he said: 
 "Young girls never should speak of things 
 they don't understand; and of things they 
 ought not to understand." 
 
 " I know very well that I ought not to un- 
 derstand, and that I know very little, but I 
 hear, don't I? unless I put cotton in my ears 
 like cousin La Balue." 
 
 " One hears only what they wish to listen 
 to!" 
 
 " Oh no ! I never listen, and I always hear! 
 Sometimes I would prefer not, for example 
 the dishonesty of Madame de Liron." 
 
 " I forbid you to pronounce names! There 
 might be a servant, a maid, some one from 
 her house." 
 
 " And do you think servants know nothing 
 of what their mistresses do?" 
 
 " It is then unnecessary for you to be relat- 
 ing it." 
 
 Visibly disturbed she added: "I don't 
 know why you talk so much about Madame 
 de Liron !" 
 
 Uncle Marc looked at her amazed: "I 
 speak of her? Am I speaking now?" 
 
 The door of one ot the fitting-rooms was
 
 183 Cbiffon'0 /Carriage. 
 
 opened and the little Liron entered in a whirl 
 followed by Madame Bertin: she was envel- 
 oped in a cloud of rosy gauze. 
 
 " They told me that you were here, and I 
 could not let yet you go without a word." 
 She shook hands with the viscount, and turn- 
 ing toward Chiffon said, " How do you do, 
 Miss Coryse?" Then turning to Marc, " Are 
 you here to have a dress made?" 
 
 He answered with some embarrassment: 
 " I came for my niece." 
 
 The little Liron burst out laughing, open- 
 ing a mouth somewhat disfigured by defec- 
 tive teeth. 
 
 "You are affecting the mamma; it is 
 touching." 
 
 Seeing the annoyance of the viscount she 
 hastened to add: "My compliments also! 
 Your daughter is charming !" 
 
 Chiffon did not appear to hear. She looked 
 at the young woman with eagerness; she was 
 a very pretty little person, plump and dim- 
 pled her brown hair curled on her forehead 
 with soft, delicate lines. She had large, 
 chocolate-colored eyes, and they were very 
 winning; a good nose and little mouth.
 
 Obfffon's rtbarrfage. 183 
 
 charming when closed, and a superb com- 
 plexion. Her shoulders were white and 
 plump above her very low bodice. The 
 upper part of her arms were a little coarse, 
 ears large and badly joined to the head, too 
 far from the hair such as she was, Chiffon 
 understood well that she did not fancy this 
 sort of woman, although Madame de Liron 
 was very pretty and very fascinating. 
 
 As Marc said nothing, the young woman 
 continued : 
 
 " You are going to have something in pink, 
 I hope? It is the most becoming color to 
 such a skin ! And it would at least be polite 
 to tell me how you like my dress?" 
 
 He answered, " Quite a success!" 
 
 " The way you answer makes it hard to be- 
 lieve! It is for the ball at your sister-in- 
 law's to-morrow. I think we dine together 
 this evening at the Barfleurs'?" 
 
 " No ; I dine out rarely, and at present I am 
 in mourning." 
 
 " That is true ! I have not seen you since 
 your return." 
 
 " I only came back the day before yester- 
 day, and make no visits."
 
 IM Cbtffon's 
 
 " I know that P She took tip some mate- 
 rial unfolded on the sofa, and in passing be- 
 fore the viscount she said quickly and very 
 low : " But you might see me elsewhere." 
 
 Marc glanced at Chiffon, trying to guess if 
 she had heard. 
 
 Very white, with closed lips and eyes cast 
 down as a statue, the little girl seemed in- 
 sensible. A rapid throbbing of the temples 
 alone showed life ; and Marc thought, " She 
 has noticed nothing." 
 
 Madame de Liron returned after examining 
 the stuffs and asked, " Your brother and sis- 
 ter-in-law dine down there this evening, do 
 they not?" 
 
 " My brother is ill ; my sister-in-law goes 
 with my niece." 
 
 " Oh, if I am not mistaken, Miss Coryse 
 makes her debut? I am delighted to dine 
 with her this evening." 
 
 Chiffon bowed proudly, thinking, "She 
 isn't like me! Since I know that she will be 
 there it seems to be more of a damper." 
 
 Uncle Marc asked Madame Bertin when he 
 could speak to her? he was in a hurry, and 
 wanted a dress for his niece by five o'clock.
 
 Cbfffon's jflfcarrfage. 185 
 
 The little Liron surrendered the dress- 
 maker, and went into the parlor. 
 
 Uncle Marc asked what she could do for 
 him? 
 
 She told him that a dress could not be 
 made by five o'clock, but some of the models 
 could be arranged and altered. She said 
 that some were quite fresh. Looking at 
 Coryse, she proposed a little pink dress. 
 
 " No !" Chiffon said decidedly, " not pink. 
 I don't wish it!" 
 
 Madame de Liron had a few moments be- 
 fore proposed pink to Uncle Marc, and that 
 was enough to ttirn her from it. 
 
 Madame Bertin asked what color she 
 wished. 
 
 She replied that any color she liked would 
 answer but pink. She loved white. 
 
 One of the women brought in a white 
 mousseline de soie. Madame Bertin opened 
 the door of a room and took Coryse in. 
 
 " Will Miss d' Avesnes come in and try on 
 her dress?" 
 
 Seeing that Marc remained seated, she 
 asked if he would not come in? Uncle Marc 
 followed the dressmaker and took his seat in
 
 188 Cbfffon's flbarrfage. 
 
 a corner of the fitting-room where Chiffon 
 had already taken off her dress, it having 
 fallen to her feet and leaving her in a little 
 short skirt and silk jersey to which she fast- 
 ened her stockings. Her old Uncle de Lau- 
 nay, who had always directed her physical 
 education, had never permitted her to wear 
 corsets or garters or boots. He thought they 
 were ugly and unhealthy. Nothing, he 
 thought, so deforms the body as corsets and 
 garters, or so injures the ankle-bone as high 
 boots. He thought the corset and boots 
 might hide imperfections, but the garter 
 never. Chiffon had grown up unrestrained, 
 and when her mother talked about forming 
 her figure with corsets, rebelled heartily. 
 She could not bear the restraint. She pre- 
 ferred the form God had given her, and would 
 not look as if she had swallowed a stick. In 
 thinking of her mother's figure she said : 
 
 " I hate a big bust and large hips, with 
 small waist; it is a deformity, a pillow tied 
 in the middle." 
 
 When Chiffon had put on the little simple 
 frock with skirts one above the other falling 
 Straight from the full waist, draping prettily
 
 Cbfffon's fl&arrfage. 18f 
 
 her elegant and firm bust, Madame Bertin 
 was delighted. 
 
 " How becoming it is to her! There is lit- 
 tle to be altered. What a stunning figure! 
 Is it not, sir?" 
 
 " Yes," Marc muttered as he beheld Chiffon 
 transformed. In this elegant and correctly 
 made frock, her pretty shoulders firm and 
 rosy, arrns though still a littie thin, but of 
 beautiful contour, the child appeared so 
 differently from usual that her Uncle Marc 
 said to himself, satisfied and yet annoyed, 
 " They will not know her this evening." 
 
 At this moment Madame de Liron opened 
 the parlor door and asked if they needed her 
 advice. 
 
 Marc declined coldly, becoming very red. 
 
 The young woman saw Coryse in her won- 
 derful transformation, and was petrified by 
 it. Her pretty, laughing face assumed a bad, 
 wild expression, and shutting the door vio- 
 lently said to the viscount, " You are not 
 bored, are you?" 
 
 Coryse, half closing her bright eyes, said 
 gently : " Madame de Liron is rather noisy, 
 is she not?"
 
 188 Cbfffon's /Rarrfage* 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, when trotting 
 home with Uncle Marc, Chiffon declared, 
 without naming the young woman, that he 
 was thinking of her. 
 
 " It makes no difference, she does not bother 
 herself with you," he replied in rather a 
 surly way. "No one disturbs her!" 
 
 The little girl shook her head, saying to 
 herself, " Oh, never mind ! There are differ- 
 ent kinds of love in this \vorldl"
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 As Uncle Marc foresaw, Chiffon was 
 scarcely recognized as she entered the Bar- 
 fleur drawing-room. It was a triumph. Al- 
 though so distrustful of herself, she could 
 not help noticing the effect she produced. 
 She almost burst out laughing before Ma- 
 dame Bassigny, who gazed at her with an 
 angry and stupid expression. 
 
 " It annoys her because I look so well," she 
 thought. 
 
 The marchioness was simply dazed at the 
 admiration excited by her daughter. She 
 was not bad at heart, but simply vain and 
 foolish, enjoying to the full anything which 
 contributed to her greatness or brought her 
 into notice. She was flattered by Chiffon's 
 success. Madame Bassigny's long face and 
 also that of the little Liron delighted her. 
 She looked at Chiffon with satisfaction, sur- 
 rounded by her admirers and receiving their
 
 190 Cbfffon'0 /Barrfage. 
 
 compliments with a stiffness produced rather 
 by astonishment than timidity. 
 
 The Barfleurs noticed this transformation 
 with some disquietude. They thought, if 
 Chiffon would be given them when she was 
 only rich, she might be refused now that she 
 was thought so beautiful. It provoked H= 
 dame Barfleur to see M. de Trene, the hand- 
 some Hussar that they had brought out, and 
 M. de Bernay, the delegate, and Count de 
 Liron, the finest match in the country, so 
 assiduous in their attentions to the little 
 Coryse, as she graciously called her. She 
 took her seat near her to watch them. 
 
 Chiffon took it amiably. It mattered little 
 to her where she was, as she couldn't talk to 
 Uncle Marc,, nor papa, nor to any one she 
 loved. 
 
 Her De Lussy cousins were there, Gene- 
 vieve and her brother, but Coryse cared little 
 for them. Genevieve was a handsome 
 woman, but thoroughly worldly and en- 
 tirely taken up with all its follies and vani- 
 ties. 
 
 All at once Madame Barfleur heard car- 
 riage-wheels in the court
 
 CbftFon's /fcarrfage. 191 
 
 "Oh! there he is! I thought he had not 
 returned." 
 
 Chiffon had seemed indifferent to the ar- 
 rival of other guests, but showed her surprise 
 on the entrance of the Duke d'Aubieres. 
 She was so delighted to see her dear friend 
 that she jumped up to greet him. 
 
 " Oh, how charmed I am to see you!" 
 
 The colonel looked at her, not fully recog- 
 nizing this very elegant person who received 
 him so graciously. But when he saw the 
 long hair and the pretty little mouth smiling 
 at him so sweetly, he thought it must be 
 Chiffon before him. 
 
 His long, serious face expressed his aston- 
 ishment so well that Coryse guessed the 
 cause, and said: 
 
 " What? don't you recognize me either?** 
 
 All at once she noticed that they were ob- 
 served, and she heard Madame Bassigny 
 whisper to her mother, " She does not seem 
 at all gruff with her cast-off lovers." 
 
 Madame de Bray was annoyed at Chiffon's 
 conduct, and replied that she was a perfect 
 baby for her age. 
 
 Chifion thought they were right to criti-
 
 193 Cblffon'3 Carriage. 
 
 cise her this time, as she had failed in 
 tact. 
 
 The Duke d'Aubieres was a little out of 
 sorts; he had not expected to meet Chiffon, 
 who went out so little. Above all, he was 
 amazed to see her nearly a woman, so well- 
 dressed and retaining only the long hair on 
 her shoulders, a little remnant of her childish 
 days. But as he looked longer at her he be- 
 came calmer and more resigned to the renun- 
 ciation than if he had seen her as she appeared 
 the last time they had met. If he had ever 
 for an instant thought himself near little 
 Chiffon without fortune, he felt himself very 
 far from Miss d'Avesnes who had become 
 rich. She appeared as another incarnation 
 of a being he had formerly loved a long time 
 ago. He examined her with a respectful 
 curiosity, and gradually felt his passion les- 
 sening toward her. 
 
 " What is the matter with you this evening, 
 colonel?" Madame Bassigny asked. "Are 
 you fatigued from your journey?" 
 
 "No, madame; why do you ask?" 
 
 " Ob, you look as if something was the 
 matter 1"
 
 Cbfffon's Carriage. 196 
 
 He bowed: "It is probably a natural 
 expression, but fatigue has nothing to do 
 with it." 
 
 Madame Barfleur, who could not, as she 
 ardently wished, place Coryse near her son, 
 desired, however, to escape the neighbor- 
 hood of the handsome Irene and M. de 
 Bernay, both in the marriage market and 
 fortune-hunters. She therefore installed the 
 little d'Avesnes between the Duke d'Aubieres 
 and M. de Liron, thinking she would be out 
 of danger. 
 
 During the dinner Chiffon was delighted at 
 being near the colonel, and talked gayly 
 upon subjects equally interesting to them. 
 They chatted about Uncle Marc, and Gri- 
 bouille and Josephine, also about pictures 
 and art generally. The Duke d'Aubieres 
 was very intelligent and much more high- 
 ly cultivated in these matters than most 
 others. 
 
 Toward the end of the dinner, when con- 
 versation became a little louder and they felt 
 that no one observed them, Chiffon told him 
 in a low tone of the advances of the Barfleurs 
 to her, and of Father Ragon's insinuations,
 
 194 Cbtffon's /Carriage. 
 
 and of his little manoeuvres against which 
 she had to struggle. 
 
 The duke asked what her Uncle Marc said 
 to all this? 
 
 " Oh, he thinks them idiots, and yet he 
 wished me to dine here this evening, and 
 gave me a new dress to wear. I don't know 
 what is the matter with Uncle Marc, but for 
 some time he seems changed; he is no longer 
 the same with me." 
 
 44 How is that?" 
 
 44 I can't explain it to you. He is so strange. 
 He upsets me without my having deserved 
 it about nothing; but it is something not- 
 withstanding." 
 
 " I will go and see him to-morrow. I said 
 good-by the day I ran away, after my dis- 
 missal." 
 
 44 Oh, d propos to that " and Chiffon raised 
 her clear eyes timidly to the duke and asked 
 him if he was angry with her? 
 
 He answered that anger was not the 
 word; that he had become wiser, and h 
 thanked her for having been so sensible and 
 kind. 
 
 After a moment she said: "You wert
 
 Cbiffon's fl&arrlage. 195 
 
 coming to see Uncle Marc to-morrow. It is 
 the Sunday of the races." 
 
 " Oh yes, but I will come and see Marc in 
 the morning." 
 
 " You know there is a ball at the house in 
 the evening? Still another bother! Apropos, 
 the little prince you introduced to us is very 
 charming; they are giving the ball in his 
 honor." 
 
 " So you find my little prince nice?" 
 
 " Oh yes, now I do, but at first I thought 
 him a little ordinary; now we have become 
 great friends." 
 
 After dinner Madame Barfleur asked Chif- 
 fon to serye coffee with her son, and asked 
 her guests if they would permit smoking; in 
 that case they would have the gentlemen 
 with them. 
 
 Coryse had hoped the smoking-room would 
 relieve her of " Two farthings of butter " whose 
 lover-like manner and veiled phrases annoyed 
 her dreadfully. She made a face and took 
 her seat in the corner, while Genevieve de 
 Lussy, already launched in society and quite 
 a woman of the world, and the little Liron 
 ilirted with their admirers and formed a little
 
 196 Gbtffon's /fcarrfage. 
 
 group apart. This annoyed Madame de Bray 
 who beckoned to Chiffon to come to her, and 
 in a low tone full of anger told her not to 
 stay any longer in the corner like a simple- 
 ton. 
 
 " What shall I talk about?" 
 
 " Oh, it makes no difference what ; you 
 must join in the conversation." 
 
 The little girl took her seat much per- 
 plexed. She did not understand talking and 
 not saying anything. Always occupied with 
 her studies or childish things, she was not at 
 home in this purely worldly conversation. 
 She remained silent trying to get in a word; 
 then she gave it up, notwithstanding her 
 mother's angry expression. While she was 
 dreaming of Uncle Marc, who at this moment 
 was probably reading his newspapers, or of 
 Gribouille who should be eating his soup, she 
 noticed a movement in the room. They were 
 discussing the authenticity of a portrait of 
 Henry the Fourth which hung opposite the 
 place where she was sitting. Little Barfleur 
 took an enormous lamp which he found hard 
 to carry, and climbing upon a chair tried to 
 throw more light upon the picture. The
 
 Cbiffon'3 Carriage. 197 
 
 king's bony and energetic face seemed to be 
 detached and almost to come out of the old 
 faded canvas. 
 
 When Chiffon saw its ugly but fascinating 
 head she exclaimed, " There is a man who had 
 not an atom of Protestantism in him Henry 
 the Fourth !" 
 
 There was perfect silence, and Chiffon re- 
 membered at once that the Lirons were 
 Protestants. Wishing to change the conver- 
 sation she added: 
 
 " It's owing to him that I have such a funny 
 name!" 
 
 "What!" asked little Barfleur with polite 
 
 
 
 eagerness " a ridiculous name?" 
 
 "Yes Corysande! didn't you know they 
 called me that?" 
 
 " Oh yes, but it is beautiful, on the con- 
 trary." 
 
 " That depends upon one's taste!" 
 
 " What has Henry the Fourth to do with 
 this name you dislike so much?" 
 
 " He is the cause without being entirely so; 
 it is in remembrance of the beautiful Cory- 
 sande." 
 
 Seeing that " Two farthings of butter" did
 
 198 Cbifton'a jflfcarrfage. 
 
 not quite understand, she repeated, "The 
 beautiful Corysande? You know about it?" 
 
 He answered at random, but without con- 
 viction, " Perfectly 1" 
 
 "You don't seem to understand entirely. 
 She was the Countess of Guiche, and she was 
 the godmother of one of the Avesnes in 1589. 
 Since that time all of the Avesnes have 
 called their daughters Corysande. This is 
 the tradition !" 
 
 "This is interesting! but I don't yet see 
 what Henry the Fourth had to do with it." 
 
 " I said that you did not seem to understand 
 it. Henry the Fourth had something to do 
 with it, and from the great celebrity of the 
 beautiful Corysande they were flattered in 
 having her for a godmother, and the tra- 
 dition became established. She is famous, 
 the lovely Corysande, because Henry the 
 Fourth " 
 
 44 Yes! Oh yes!" Madame Barfleur chimed 
 in, fearing to see her son's ignorance brought 
 out more to light; although very ignorant 
 herself, she saw her son's danger, and like 
 many women of her stamp possessed the tact 
 of silence.
 
 Gb(ffon f Carriage. 10& 
 
 The Duke d'Aubieres looked at the other 
 j/ortraits, and, pointing to a general of the 
 Empire, asked who he was. 
 
 * Two farthings of butler" looked askance 
 at his ancestor with indifference, a big man 
 leaning on his sword, in the pose of General 
 Fournier-Sarlovege de Gras. " That is my 
 grandfather." 
 
 "Oh!" Chiffon cried out, "he does not re- 
 emble you ;" and looking kindly at General 
 Barfleur she added, " It is not strange that 
 Buch men should do great things !" 
 
 " There was only one misfortune about it," 
 his grandson declared, " it was all done for 
 the glory of Bonaparte." 
 
 " For the glory of France, you mean," 
 Chiffon suggested. 
 
 " No !" little Barfleur answered, " it was for 
 Bonaparte alone, and Bonaparte will ever be 
 a usurper in the eyes of the world an enemy 
 of France." 
 
 " Did you say in the eyes of men of the 
 world?" Chiffon's ears were red with excite- 
 ment. " The emperor an enemy of France? 
 Those who returned from Coblentz have 
 dared to call him this. Those who would
 
 200 Cbtffon's dBarrfage. 
 
 have rejoiced to have seen France invaded 
 and to reach a very fine result Louis the 
 Eighteenth !" 
 
 Little Barfleur declared warmly, happy in 
 being able to find a subject for conversation: 
 " Louis the Eighteenth was a great king!" 
 
 "A great king! this goldbeater's skin? 
 but you care nothing for that. You are only 
 a black-heart cherry at the bottom. You 
 defend the king as you go to mass, a thing of 
 fashion. It is not fashionable to be an Im- 
 perialist, they are all snares and bullies." 
 
 " Thanks for the Imperialists, Miss Coryse," 
 the Duke d' Aubieres said laughingly, bowing 
 toward her. 
 
 Madame de Bray ran tip to Chiffon, and in 
 a low but threatening tone told her to stop 
 talking in that foolish manner. 
 
 "This doesn't surprise me! but why do 
 they amuse themselves in bedaubing my 
 emperor? And besides, you have told me to 
 talk, no matter what I said, only to talk." 
 
 Distressed lest her young heir should em- 
 bark in another conversation, Madame de 
 Barfleur took her seat at the piano. A dance, 
 she thought* would be pleasant.
 
 Cbfffon'0 Carriage. 201 
 
 At once the handsome Trene, M. de Ber- 
 nay, and Count de Liron ran toward Chiffon; 
 but little Barfleur being nearer seized the 
 young girl quickly. 
 
 Coryse rather repelled this arm around her 
 waist, and looked toward the duke to come 
 to her aid; but she thought quickly that this 
 would be of no avail, as her vague notions of 
 politeness made her think it necessary to 
 dance at least once with the master of the 
 house. 
 
 If the descendant of the Barfleurs talked 
 badly he waltzed well, and Chiffon took great 
 pleasure in being whirled across the big 
 drawing-room. Her partner took her into 
 the gallery, in which, though badly lighted, 
 he thought they would have more room. 
 Chiffon looked for the other dancers, Gene- 
 vieve de Lussy and Madame de Lirou. 
 
 The viscount stopped a moment and went 
 toward the door to call them, and reported 
 that they were coming. 
 
 Taking Chiffon they danced off again. 
 They remained alone, however, in the big 
 room. Madame de Liron only loved to 
 waltz before people, and Madame de Lussy
 
 203 CbflTcn's 
 
 understood her daughter so well that she did 
 not permit her to go far away from the ma- 
 ternal eye. 
 
 " Madame de Liron is thought very pretty, 
 is she not?" Chiffon asked. Since the morn- 
 ing the image of the young woman haunted 
 her and she couldn't help talking about 
 her. 
 
 Little Barfleur replied in an absent way: 
 "Your Uncle de Bray thinks her very 
 pretty !" 
 
 " Ah !" Corsye said gravely. 
 
 " But what do you think of her, Mitss 
 Coryse?" 
 
 " A little too rapid; what do you think?" 
 
 "I?" " Two farthings of butter" answered, 
 pressing Coryse a little against his shoulder, 
 " I see you only. You are so pretty ! so per- 
 fectly lovely !" and he added in a low tone, 
 " it is you that I love !" 
 
 Chiffon did not quite understand, and 
 abandoned herself entirely to the pleasure of 
 dancing with a fine waltzer. 
 
 Emboldened by this, he leaned toward her, 
 whispering in a tone which he tried to make 
 passionate: " I love your
 
 Cbiffon's Carriage, 203 
 
 He was so near her that his breath seemed 
 to blow away her hair. She stopped short, 
 stupefied, and turning away abruptly with an 
 amazed and indignant look, said: 
 
 " This is indeed rapid 1 A little steep P
 
 CHAPTER XHI, 
 
 " WILL you say to Corysande that she must 
 come to the races? She declares that she 
 does not wish to go." The marchioness ran 
 into the library where M. de Bray and Marc 
 were smoking, with this complaint. 
 
 Chiffon came in behind her mother, saying 
 that she did not wish to go, as she had never 
 been urged to do so before. 
 
 " No, but you were then a child." 
 
 The marquis thought he would speak to 
 her: "Go, my Chiffon, you love horses so 
 much." 
 
 " It is just because I love horses that I hate 
 races. It doesn't amuse me to see one kick 
 about with a broken foot, as at Auteuil, two 
 years ago, the day you took me." 
 
 " But an accident like that may not 
 happen." 
 
 " Like that or any other, it makes no differ- 
 ence to me. It is not for that alone that I 
 don't wish to go to the races." 
 ft*
 
 Cbitton's Carriage. 205 
 
 *You should not say, 'I don't v/ish," M. 
 de Bray said kindly. 
 
 Chiffon corrected herself, " I should prefer 
 not to go to the races." 
 
 "Why is that?" 
 
 " Because it bores me to be among such a 
 lot of people. I love to be alone with my 
 animals; or with you two. I am in earnest! 
 This morning it was mass; in a short time 
 the races; this evening a ball. It is too 
 much for one day, all this." 
 
 Madame de Bray raised her eyes to heaven: 
 "Mass! she puts mass in the same bag with 
 the rest !" 
 
 Chiffon, bristling with anger, answered: 
 
 " Yes, certainly. This morning you would 
 not allow me to go to Saint Marcien, giving 
 as a pretext that you needed John at the 
 house for the evening preparations. Well? 
 You took me with you to the Jesuits, and 
 their mass is not like a mass! it is like 
 a five o'clock reception, which is in the 
 morning. They greet each other, wait in 
 the garden until everybody goes out. 
 To-day you have spoken to more than fifty 
 people I"
 
 206 Cbfffon's fl&arrfage. 
 
 " But you spoke to them also, why do yon 
 complain?" 
 
 " It is just this which I dislike !" 
 
 "I can't understand being bored with 
 society." 
 
 " This depends upon one's taste! I have a 
 horror of it ! Seeing them this morning and 
 again to-night is enough for me. I will have 
 had my fill of society without being dragged 
 to -the races. If I am annoyed all day in this 
 way I will go to sleep in the drawing-room 
 to-night." 
 
 The marchioness was discouraged : " This 
 child is perfectly incorrigible. I must give 
 up trying to do anything with her!" She left 
 the room in a huff. 
 
 Chiffon stretched herself on the divan like 
 a big dog. " It is all the same to me, her 
 whims P 
 
 M. de Bray told her he could not under- 
 stand why she would not go with her mother 
 to the races. 
 
 44 You will understand if you will go with 
 her." 
 
 * I have a frightful cold and am scarcely 
 presentable here."
 
 Cbiflfon'e 
 
 " And I am disgusted with my dinner yes- 
 terday !" 
 
 Uncle Marc then asked how the dinner 
 went off. 
 
 " Oh as much of a bore as ever! but fortu- 
 nately M. d'Aubieres was there; but for that 
 I don't know how I could have borne it." 
 
 "Oh!" the marquis asked, " so d'Aubierea 
 has returned?" 
 
 "Yes," Uncle Marc answered, "he came 
 this morning when you were out. He wanted 
 to see you, and excused himself for not re- 
 turning the other evening to say good-by to 
 your wife and yourself; but he was not in 
 spirits, poor man, after his walk with Chiffon 
 in the garden. Do you know what Chiffon 
 said to him in this walk? Don't try to guess; 
 you never can. She said very prettily to him, 
 'I want you to know why I can't marry you. 
 I don't wish it, because I am sure that I 
 would deceive you. ' " 
 
 M. de Bray began to laugh also, but Coryse 
 shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " So you find this funny, do you? I suppose 
 it would have been better for him to have 
 imagined a lot of other things."
 
 238 Cbfffon'0 Carriage. 
 
 "Indeed," Uncle Marc answered, "I don't 
 think you could have said anything worse." 
 
 She asked him gravely : " Do you think he 
 wants to marry me now?" 
 
 " He ! poor man, he does not even dream 
 of it!" 
 
 " That is a lucky thing ! I thought so ! He 
 was so nice during the dinner. I was just in 
 the humor to be near him !" 
 
 " Well, it is all over now?" 
 
 " But my mother has not told you." 
 
 " I have not seen her since breakfast, and 
 we did not talk of the dinner." 
 
 " Well, I ran on a little, first about Henry 
 the Fourth." 
 
 " What did you have to say about him?" 
 M. de Bray asked with quite a surprised 
 expression. 
 
 " They were looking at his portrait and I 
 said that he had not a particle of the Protest- 
 ant in him. Then you know on account of 
 the Lirons that was a great mistake." 
 
 " Oh," Uncle Marc answered, " if you had 
 not said that ! rt 
 
 " Well, I said other things also: but it is all 
 my mother's fault. She called me to her and
 
 Cbfffon's d&arrfage. 209 
 
 said I must talk even if I said nothing; and 
 as soon as I found something she jumped 
 upon me." 
 
 " Well, let us hear the second mistake?" 
 Uncle Marc asked with great interest. 
 
 " Well, it was not exactly that, but I was 
 angry and said things I should not. It was & 
 fropos of Napoleon." 
 
 " Oh !" M. de Bray said, " if they attacked 
 Napoleon - " 
 
 "Yes, they did, and that made me more 
 angry." 
 
 " Did you lose your temper?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know;" and after a silence 
 she added, " I behaved better than the master 
 of the house." 
 
 " What do you mean by this? I thought 
 M. de Barfleur was the perfection of good 
 manners." 
 
 * Not with me always." 
 
 "What has he done?" 
 
 Blushing at the recollection of the evening 
 before, and bristling with anger, she said, 
 " He has spoken too affectionately to me." 
 
 " How is that?" Uncle Marc asked. 
 
 u Well, he said thee and thou to me; it hap- 
 14
 
 210 Cbitfon'0 fl&arrtajje. 
 
 pened while we were waltzing. He took me 
 in the gallery, pretending that we had net- 
 room enough in the ball-room. Then he be- 
 gan to say that Madame de Liron was a little 
 fast, no, I am mixing up things; I said this 
 to him. He told me that I was pretty, that I 
 alone was beautiful " 
 
 As she then became silent Uncle Marc 
 questioned her further: " And then?" 
 
 " Then all at once he leaned toward me 
 and " imitating the voice of little Barfleur 
 " whispered with all his concentrated 
 passion : '/ love thee* ' " 
 
 Her intonation was so funny that Uncle 
 Marc, in spite of annoyance, began to laugh. 
 
 Coryse was a little wounded, and turning 
 toward him and her step-father she said: 
 * You think this funny, do you?" 
 
 11. de Bray, always anxious to conciliate, 
 said in a mild tone : " The English say thee 
 and thou to God!" 
 
 Chiffon answered boldly, "Because they 
 are muzzled!" 
 
 " Oh, very well !" the marquis said, a little 
 annoyed at the poor success of his observa- 
 tion, " you have your own way of talking."
 
 CbitTon's jflfcarrfage, 211 
 
 After thinking a moment she asked if this 
 joking was goirg to continue. 
 
 Her step-father not understanding, she an- 
 swered, " About little Barfleur. I don't want 
 to make a serious matter of it, but I am not 
 flattered at your thinking that I might ma r ry 
 Two farthings of butter T 
 
 The marquis timidly whispered, " He is 
 nice !" 
 
 "Nice yes, but so grotesque and un- 
 healthy looking, and dresses peculiarly, and 
 perfumes himself with white heliotrope ; that 
 is enough !" 
 
 " Why ! a man can sometimes use a little 
 perfume without all that." 
 
 " No," Chiffon declared, " a man has no 
 right to smell of anything but tobacco." 
 Turning to Uncle Marc she said : 
 
 "You are laughing! You think this all 
 very funny? You above all are joining the 
 others in being unkind to me yes, unkind! 
 This began a long time ago, but lately it has 
 increased. Since the evening when this de- 
 testable little Barfleur dined at the house." 
 
 As the viscount protested, she continued in 
 the most excited way : " Oh, 1 don't say that
 
 213 Cbiffon'5 /K>arrtage 
 
 "You must pardon me; it is instinctive." 
 you are not kind to me ! in giving me dresses 
 and beautiful presents. You gave me the 
 lovely frock that I am going to wear this 
 evening; it is a great deal more stylish than 
 the one papa gave me. Yes you give me 
 things, but when it comes to loving me ! that 
 is much more 1" 
 
 " But I do." 
 
 "No, you don't! if you loved me, could 
 you be willing to see me marry a monkey 
 like little Barfleur?" 
 
 44 But I never said anything about this." 
 
 " You said nothing for it, but nothing 
 against it, and I don't wish to marry a mon- 
 key." She walked toward Uncle Marc and 
 went on to say bitterly: 
 
 " It is your fault then, tormenting me ; if 
 they wish to marry me yes, it is the fault 
 of your dirty money! but for that they 
 would let me be quiet in my little corner as 
 before." 
 
 Hiding her face in her hands she sobbed 
 convulsively. 
 
 " Let her alone," Marc said to his brother, 
 AS he approached the little girl and wanted
 
 Cbfffon's flBarttage. 213 
 
 to talk to her. " She is nervous; let her cry 
 a little it will do her good." 
 
 As the marquis left the library he paused, 
 and, seeing Chiffon still crying, he said: 
 " This nervous attack is a new thing for this 
 child ! If she was in love with some one I 
 would not be surprised !" 
 
 " You are foolish," Marc said with some 
 bewilderment. " Who could she be in love 
 with? Can't be Irene, that perfectly insipid 
 fellow who would beat his wife and throw 
 away her fortune; nor Bernay she hates 
 hypocrites. Nor Liron, an idiot!" 
 
 As his brother was silent he asked excit- 
 edly, " Who! who is it?" 
 
 M. de Bray answered coldly : " How can I 
 tell?"
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "WHERE has Uncle Marc gone?" Chiffon 
 asked on entering the drawing-room in the 
 evening, a few moments before the arrival of 
 the guests. " I have looked for him every- 
 where and can't find him." 
 
 " You know," the marquis told her, " that 
 he is not visible this evening. What do you 
 want him for?" 
 
 " I want to show him my new dress. He 
 has only seen it in the daylight, and, bless 
 me! in the evening I look so much better!" 
 
 " You can show it to him another time; he 
 is out of sorts this evening." He added 
 laughingly, " It seems to me that everybody 
 is nervous to-day." 
 
 " Yes," Coryse said, " I noticed his mood at 
 dinner. What do you think is the cause?" 
 
 The marchioness accused him of having a 
 bad temper. 
 
 "Oh I" Chiffon protested with animation, 
 814
 
 Cbffton's /Carriage. 215 
 
 * that is not so !" Returning to her idea, she 
 thought she would hunt him up. 
 
 Her mother said "Not" angrily. "The 
 guests have begun to arrive." 
 
 The bright face of the little girl was 
 clouded. 
 
 "Yes, you are right; it is ten o'clock. I 
 wonder who it is who has come first? I bet 
 it is that old bore Bassigny !" 
 
 It was Madame Bassigny, squeezed in a 
 brilliant silvery dress; followed by the colo- 
 nel tightly belted, also, in a uniform a little 
 narrow for him, and which made a crease in 
 his back up to his shoulders. Madame Bas- 
 signy seemed annoyed at being the first to 
 arrive. She thought it unfashionable, and 
 threw it all on the colonel. 
 
 In a very marked way she asked Coryse if 
 her political discussion the evening before 
 had prevented her from sleeping. 
 
 The little girl replied that she had slept 
 well, and always did, even after the most 
 stupid evening. 
 
 The arrival of other guests interrupted thia 
 conversation, which had taken a little dis- 
 agreeable turn.
 
 818 Cblffon'a Carriage. 
 
 Little Barfleur entered, clinging to the 
 skirts of his mother and evidently uneasy at 
 the result of his proposal. He thought that 
 he had been too passionate and would change 
 his conduct a little. 
 
 The indifferent manner in which Chiffon 
 received him, evidently having forgotten it 
 all, reassured him, and recovering his aplomb 
 he ran about the rooms, filling them with his 
 foppish and small personality. 
 
 The entrance of Count d'Axen had the 
 effect of a shower-bath upon him. He began 
 by examining him closely, and with great 
 respect, somewhat overwhelmed by the pres- 
 ence of a genuine prince. Soon, however, he 
 forgot the prince and saw only a rival. The 
 arrival of this gentleman, younger and hand- 
 somer than himself, lowered considerably his 
 prestige. 
 
 When the orchestra began, Two farthings 
 of butter ran up to Coryse, but at the moment 
 she was whirled away by Count d'Axen. He 
 clearly saw to his distress that the prince 
 danced the three-step waltz wonderfully, as 
 the men of his country all do. Not only 
 would he be the honored guest, but also the
 
 CbttTon's flbarrfage. 217 
 
 most distinguished, and moreover he fully 
 merited all the attention he would receive. 
 
 All this gave little Barfleur pain. He ran 
 up to Madame de Liron, who had just arrived, 
 followed by her husband and brother-in-law. 
 She was brilliant and delicious in the rose- 
 colored frock which had been seen at the 
 dressmaker's. He eagerly asked for a waltz. 
 
 But the little Liron was anxious above 
 everything to have her entree noticed by 
 Count d'Axen, and knowing that small men 
 do not show off women, especially in the 
 dance, she replied in a somewhat sharp tone 
 to his unseasonable eagerness: 
 
 " Soon I will dance with you ! I have just 
 come. Let me breathe a little !" Then turn- 
 ing toward the marquis, she said : " Is it 
 really so, that that bear of a brother of yours 
 is not here?" 
 
 "Really so!" 
 
 44 And won't he appear at all?" 
 
 " Not this evening." 
 
 She raised her eyes to the ceiling: " He 13 
 up there; above all this noise?" 
 
 " It is so." 
 
 "What is that to her," Chiffon thought,
 
 218 Cbfffon's 
 
 "where he is?" &s she gazed at the young 
 woman looking so brilliant and fresh under 
 her diadem of diamonds. Nothing in this 
 plump doll with roguish eyes and somewhat 
 vulgar lines pleased Chiffon. But on seeing 
 the enthusiasm excited by the little Liron she 
 tried to understand this admiration which she 
 could not explain. " She does look very 
 pretty I" 
 
 The Duke d'Aubieres came up to speak to 
 her. 
 
 " What are you thinking about, Miss 
 Coryse? You look like a little conspira- 
 tor!" 
 
 Coryse blushed and answered, " Nothing." 
 
 " Ah, now you have a preoccupied look I 
 would say gloomy, if this dreadful black 
 word could apply to you." 
 
 When the little girl stammered an insig- 
 nificant reply, he asked affectionately : 
 
 " Has something distressed you? Has some- 
 thing happened that is not as you wish?" 
 
 " Oh no ! I have no sorrow nothing/ 
 Chiffon said earnestly. Wishing to end these 
 rather embarrassing questions, she began in 
 her turn :
 
 CbttTon'fl /Carriage. 210 
 
 " Uncle Marc's election is certain, is it not?" 
 
 " I think so ! but he does not seem to care 
 much about it ! I saw him this morning, and 
 he didn't say three words about it. He 
 seemed to forget that to-morrow is Sunday. 
 He also has a preoccupied look!" 
 
 " Ah !" the little girl uttered with a dis- 
 tressed expression, and she thought at once, 
 " It is probably Madame de Lircn who fills 
 his thoughts." 
 
 The colonel noticed Coryse's vague expres- 
 sion and the compression of her lips. 
 
 " Oh, you are far away from here now, 
 Miss Chiffon! Very far away in the blue 
 country." 
 
 She answered without knowing how ex- 
 actly, " Oh, not so blue as all that." 
 
 They were gradually nearing a big bay 
 window opening on the garden. A storm 
 seemed to be coming up; a leaden heat over- 
 came them. 
 
 " They are stifling in there!" Chiffon said, 
 shaking her heavy hair. She went out, fol- 
 lowed by M. d'Aubieres. 
 
 "Look there," the duke said, his nose in 
 the air, " there he is that animal Marc I he
 
 220 Gbfffon's 
 
 walks about his room forgetting that we can 
 see him down here." 
 
 Chiffon looked up and saw her Uncle Marc's 
 tall silhouette which stood out from the bright 
 frame of the window. 
 
 " Oh yes! there he is." 
 
 Madame de Liron came into the garden on 
 the arm of M. de Bray. She also saw the 
 viscount. She said impulsively, " What a 
 good joke it would be to go up and see your 
 brother! What do you think of it?" 
 
 " I don't know," the marquis replied with a 
 little embarrassment. 
 
 " Oh, let us do it, it would be great fun to 
 go up in a provincial fashion." 
 
 Turning to the colonel : " Will you, M. 
 d'Aubieres?" 
 
 " Oh no, madame. I would be afraid that 
 my friend Marc would show me the door." 
 
 " And would he put me out also?" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer she turned 
 toward M. de Bray : 
 
 " If I go up very quietly by the library 
 steps it would be fun hey !" 
 
 " Excellent !" Chiffon said in rather an im- 
 pertinent tone.
 
 Cbtffon'0 flbarrtage. 221 
 
 *M. de Bray, do take me tip, won't you?" 
 
 " I must do so many things here, madame," 
 much embarrassed by her importunity, " but 
 the Duke d'Aubieres will conduct you to the 
 staircase with pleasure ;" and the duke offered 
 his arm. 
 
 Coryse remained alone. 
 The handsome Irene, looking so slight in 
 his uniform of the Hussars, came down the 
 steps! 
 
 "At last I can bow to you, Missd'Avesnes!" 
 
 Chiffon, who was running away to follow 
 M. d'Aubieres and Madame de Liron, was 
 somewhat annoyed at being stopped in her 
 .flight. 
 
 She answered a little disagreeably: "You 
 have bowed to me before." 
 
 She spoke a little loud. Uncle Marc's sil- 
 houette disappeared a moment, came on the 
 balcony, and there remained motionless. 
 
 " I did bow to you when I came in, but did 
 not compliment you upon your beautiful 
 frock." 
 
 Coryse didn't answer, and he went on in 
 a mysterious way full ot innuendo and non- 
 sense : " After all, is it the toilette which is
 
 223 Cbtffon's /fcarrfage. 
 
 pretty? I won't pay you a foolish compli- 
 ment in saying what you have heard a hun- 
 dred times since yesterday evening; but you 
 are " 
 
 Chiffon interrupted him, laughing: "Oh 
 yes, charming! everybody agrees to that!" 
 
 Anxious to slip away she added a little 
 brusquely: "If -that is all you have to 
 say " 
 
 M. de Trene answered, " I wanted to beg 
 for a waltz?" 
 
 " Which one?" 
 
 " Any that you will deign to give me? the 
 first if you can." 
 
 " The first is for Count d'Axen." 
 
 "What; another?" 
 
 " Do you count the number of dances I give 
 each man?" Coryse asked. 
 
 She stopped suddenly. It seemed to her as 
 if Uncle Marc was leaning over the balcony 
 listening, but she did not dare to look up, 
 indicating her thoughts. 
 
 The handsome Trene went on to engage 
 the second waltz. 
 
 "That is M. d'Aubieres'; do you want the 
 fourth? I must go now."
 
 CtrtfTon's Aarrfage. 2*1 
 
 The Count d'Axen came running up : "It 
 is my waltz, Miss Chiffon I" 
 
 At the window Uncle Marc's tall shadow 
 moved uneasily, and Coryse thought: "I bet 
 at this moment he is angry." 
 
 M. de Trene asked to have the honor of 
 being presented to his lordship the Count 
 d'Axen. 
 
 Chiffon regretted being obliged to take her 
 eyes away from the window, but turning to- 
 ward the prince presented M. de TrSne. 
 
 " I am very glad to meet you, sir," and the 
 Count d'Axen in shaking hands told him that 
 in the coming week they would be comrades 
 in the same regiment. 
 
 " I have been asked to come to the manceu* 
 vres, and I will march with you." 
 
 Taking Chiffon by the waist he asked her 
 to take a turn on the grass ; they could hear 
 the music, and it war stifling in tf.e drawing* 
 room. 
 
 She danced off with him, not liking to re* 
 fuse, but fearing, not knowing why, that it 
 would displease Uncle Marc, who remained 
 motionless on the balcony. 
 
 When they stopped dancing the prince Mid
 
 834 Cbfffon'6 
 
 to Coryse how much he regretted not seeing 
 her uncle. 
 
 44 He is in mourning and has remained in 
 his room," she replied, looking furtively to- 
 ward the window. 
 
 "What a charming man! I like him so 
 much ! We were often together in rides and 
 walks." 
 
 " Whatr the little girl thought, surprised, 
 * he has never told me this ; he has not spoken 
 Of him since the other evening." 
 
 Count d'Axen continued: **M. de Bray 
 has the finest mind I know." 
 
 "And a beautiful soul: has he not, my 
 lord?" and Chiffon felt as if she could em- 
 brace the prince. 
 
 " I will be so glad,** he continued, * if the 
 manoauvres will come off soon enough for me 
 to go away with him?" 
 
 "Go away? Where?" the little girl asked 
 in her agony. 
 
 " Hasn't he told you?" 
 
 * Yes yes a little." 
 
 " Well, soon after the elections M. de Bray 
 is going to travel for two months."
 
 Gbiffon'0 Carriage. 228 
 
 * He wishes to look more closely into the 
 miseries of the poor in a word, he wants to 
 do good. Miss Chiffon, your uncle is one of 
 those rare men who spend their lives in doing 
 good which they hide as crimes." 
 
 " Yes ; I have told him so !" trying to mas- 
 ter herself to keep from crying. The thought 
 of Uncle Marc's going away completely upset 
 her. On his return, if he is elected he would 
 go to Paris, where the Brays would not es- 
 tablish themselves until the spring. She 
 would never see him again I Never again J 
 
 At this moment the viscount leaned over 
 the balcony, returning suddenly to his room. 
 Evidently some one had just come in. 
 
 "It is she!" thought Chiffon, her heart 
 beating violently. 
 
 When the waltz ended she bowed to the 
 prince and made her way through the dancers 
 who were taking their places. On reaching 
 the library she climbed the oaken stairway 
 which led directly to the apartment of the 
 viscount. She was determined to see, to lis- 
 ten, to know at any hazard what was taking 
 place ; but all at once she stopped, discour- 
 aged "Nol" she thought, " this would be
 
 f CMflten'tf 
 
 disgraceful ! and then I know all that I can 
 knowP 
 
 A rustling of tulle and silk warned her that 
 some one was coming down above her, almost 
 falling down the steps. She squatted down 
 behind the staircase. Gaudy and flaunting 
 Madame de Liron passed near her and entered 
 the ball-room, exclaiming, to show that her 
 visit was not a secret: 
 
 "Ah! what do you think? he was not 
 pleased, think of it I It would be nearer the 
 truth to say that he was not very angry P 
 
 * She lies," Chiffon thought, " he was de- 
 lighted! She says that to prevent their 
 thinking this;" and going up to the vis- 
 count's room she opened the door without 
 knocking. 
 
 Seated near his dressing-table, leaning his 
 head on his arm, Uncle Marc did not hear her 
 enter. In a trembling voice she asked 
 angrily: 
 
 * What has she done to you?" 
 
 On hearing the voice of his niece he got 
 up, somewhat annoyed. 
 " What are you doing here you?" 
 When she saw the poor, distressed face
 
 Cbtffcm's 
 
 turning threateningly toward her, Chiffon 
 felt only a great pity for the uncle she loved 
 so dearly. She forgot everything, repeating, 
 surprised and deeply grieved : " Why do yott 
 cry? why, man Dieu!" and timidly, "is it on 
 her account?" 
 
 The viscount burst out laughing. 
 
 " I don't know who you mean, but I beg 
 you to return to your dances and flirtations. 
 Go and listen to the compliments of that 
 brute de Irene, and waltz in the garden with 
 Count d'Axen, if that amuses you; but let 
 me be quiet in my room." 
 
 She whispered, " Quiet ! and weeping?' 
 
 " I will cry if that amuses me.** 
 
 Chiffon saw in the dressing-room two biff 
 trunks open. Doting on him she asked: 
 
 M You go then sooner?" 
 
 "Sooner than what? And how did you 
 know that I was going?" 
 
 " It was Count d'Axen who * 
 
 He laughed. " Oh, you speak of me when 
 you are together?" 
 
 " Yes ! he told me that you were going to 
 travel to do good." 
 
 As he did not answer, she asked in a trem-
 
 938 Gbiffon's /ftarrfage. 
 
 bling voice which showed all her fears: 
 " What is to become of me?" 
 
 Without looking at her he answered 
 brusquely: 
 
 "Bless mel You don't think that I can 
 take you away with me? or stay here to be 
 your nurse?" 
 
 " Oh !" Chiffon said in her agony, while her 
 periwinkle eyes were veiled with tears, " how 
 you speak to me, Uncle Marc! how dread- 
 fully you talk to me 1" 
 
 " Then why did you come to worry me in 
 this way?" 
 
 She stood a moment without replying, 
 motionless in the middle of the room, rosy in 
 the cloudy dress which fell in straight lengths 
 from her hips, showing the pure lines of her 
 young and strong little body. The shower 
 of blonde hair which floated around her, fly- 
 ing away by the draught from the window, 
 made her look like a little fairy, strange and 
 unreal. 
 
 In spite of himself, Marc, who had raised 
 his head, looked at her with an expression of 
 great tenderness from the bottom of his red 
 eyes.
 
 Gbfffon'a Aartiage. 229 
 
 Too near-sighted to see this look, after 
 reflecting some time Chiffon asked : 
 
 " Then from what the prince tells me you 
 are going away from here to do good." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 The little girl continued : 
 
 " I can tell you one to do, and not far away 
 a fine good thing?" 
 
 As he made no reply she whispered In 
 stifled tones : " It would be to marry me." 
 
 Becoming very pale the viscount walked 
 toward her! " What is it you say?" 
 
 " You understood perfectly." 
 
 He answered in a hoarse voice : " That is 
 cruel joking and not funny." 
 
 * Joking?" Chiffon cried out in a bewildered 
 manner; " I love you more than all the world, 
 and there are moments when it seems to me 
 that you love me more than others. Then 
 I say to you, marry me f 
 
 Uncle Marc took the little girl In his arms. 
 
 " My Chiffon I Oh yes, I love you ! I love 
 you I I love you T 
 
 " Then do you wish it much?** 
 
 He covered her with kisses without 
 peaking. <
 
 230 CbffTon'a 
 
 She sighed trembling: " Oh! how sweet it 
 is to be kissed by you 1" Then bursting out 
 with laughter, " Do you think they will make 
 a face downstairs when they know this?" 
 
 Uncle Marc looked at Chiffon, hesitating to 
 believe her his. Pressing his face to hers, 
 he whispered in a kiss: 
 
 " Ah, little Chiffon, If you only knew how 
 unhappy I have been 1 And despairing! and 
 jealous I" 
 
 " Jealous? Oh, that was not necessary 1" 
 
 Throwing herself passionately into his 
 arms, she whispered winningly and tenderly : 
 
 " It would be a terrible surprise to me if I 
 could ever deceive you!" 
 
 TBS END.
 
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