fe £S LEISURE HOUR SERIES A PSYCHE OF TO DAY BY MRS.C.JENKIN Henry Holt& Co. Publisher New York /',-., m an L^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF The California °tate Library ry, passed ter of all ers of the e session. Libraiy, Sectk books is; Legislat If any p . - : . Wnr : an for the benefit of the Library, he shall forfeit and pay to the ^ranan- f« ^ .^ th ree times the value thereof ' _ and before t Legislature , or of this warrant in favor of any member or office ^ ^.^ ^ State, for his per diem, allowance o salary ^ ^ ^^ by such member or officer has returned a 1 1 *okst ^ ^ ^^ him, and has settled all accounts for mju g membersof th e Sec . I5 . Boo^ma y ,beUkenfromtheL^ y ^ ^ ^ Leg islat 5 ure and its ^£££££1**** Apartment of lime by the Governor and the oft ^ ^ seat of g^ent, lhis State who are requ.red to ^ ec P *^ . Gene ral and the Trustees the justices of the Supreme Court, the of the Library. r ..■■iminiiiu ii.,iiii, t i in i itrmii . 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Two volumes in one. The translation revised and partly rewritten, and preceded by an American version of tli- "Prefatory Postscript." 12mo, $2.00. "An investigation of some of tne most important questions that a candid mind c:\n ask of the world. ... A book which we feel sure, both from the nature of the stib- ited, the serious manner of dit dly great reputation of Author, will make its mark upon the time, not so much as an attack upon what we for those who honestly differ from the majority of their bn ithers. — Atlantic Monthly. - OL» j. ■ ,«■». * » ■ ■ ■ ti iim in i* mi iitrrt timi m^ UIIIH11IIII1. I BY THE SAME AUTHOR (Leisure Hour Series) JUPITER'S DAUGHTERS. WHO BREAKS PAYS. SKIRMISHING. MADAME DE BEAUPRE. A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. / LEISURE HOUR SERIES. A Psyche of To-Day BY Mrs. C. Jenkin AUTHOR OF "WHO BREAKS PAYS," "SKIRMISHING," ETC "I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." — Shakspeare. NEW YORK HENRY HOLT & COMPANY 1874 r THIS STORY IS DEDICATED, WITH GREAT ESTEEM, TO MONSIEUR LE PRESIDENT FELIX GILLON. CONTENTS. BOOK I. CHAP. PAGE I. Who is She ? 7 II. Passing on 17 III. French Precaution % 27 IV. An Old Town 38 V. A Soiree in the Old Town 48 VI. The Shadow op Evil 59 VII. Youth and Age 66 VIII. Breakers Ahead 75 IX. " It's op no use, Madame" 85 X. " Jeune Fille au Nom Male et Feer comme ton Cosur" 101 XI. Lions 113 XII. Definitions 121 XIII. Caprices and Dreams 131 XIV. A Little Fool 140 XV. Happy ! 154 BOOK II. XVI. An Anniversary 161 XVII. Ripples on the Lake of Matrimony 174 XVIII. Hlnc ill.e Lachrym^e 182 XIX. Clouds And Mist 201 XX. A Significant Silence 215 XXI. Dark Shadows flee 224 XXII. Psyche insists on lighting her Lamp 240 XXIII. Our Hopes are Frozen Tears 255 XXIV. Dying Echoes 263 XXV. A PiAINBOW ABOVE THE WRECK 270 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. BOOK I C HAP T E R I. WHO IS SHE? Paris was out of town — gone to Trouville, Baden- Baden, Biarritz, Switzerland. No one that was any one was to be met on the pavement between the Madeleine and the Rue de Richelieu, save some young officials of government offices, hungering and thirsting after their annual leave of absence. R was the month of August, close on the 15th, the epoch of official compliments, of illuminations, distributions of small crosses of the Legion of Honor, of theatres opened gratis for the million of nobodies. In a darkened salon in a house in the Rue Blanche sat, or rather reclined, in her red-leather Spanish chair, Madame Claire Saincere, exactly as her nephew Paul has painted her: a picture that mer- 8 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. ited the grand prize of Rome, which he has just obtained, much more than his enormous "Thetis arming Achilles." It was this success of her nephew that had detained Madame Claire in Paris. She had been waiting until Paul should take his departure for his native town, en route for Italy, before setting out herself to join some friends at Interlachen. In the mean while that little dark girl sitting op- posite to her had arrived, threatening another delay to the annual Swiss tour. Yet when Paul entered the salon on this hot Sunday (he always dined with his aunt on Sundays), he did not perceive a trace of vexation on the fair face — fair in spite of the half- century it had seen. The cool quiet room was what the young artist wanted. He had walked thither in a blaze of sun- shine from the other side of the river, and he felt as a man might do, who, in the desert, suddenly came on palm-trees and a fountain. He kissed his charm- ing aunt, and was about to speak when she said, " Look there !" He then perceived the little girl dressed in black, sitting so uncomfortably upright, and with her eyes at that moment fixed in a wide stare on him- self. " Who is she ?" he asked in a low voice. " Come here, my child," called the lady. The girl rose, and came toward the aunt and nephew, her head erect, her shoulders thrown back, her step firm and free, her whole mien that of one conscious of some superiority. wno is she? 9 "Will you shake hands with me and tell me your name ?" said Paul. She gave him her small brown hand, saying — "I am called Regina." Paul was astonished at the sonority of her voice, and said, by way of saying something, " Regina is an uncommon name. Do you know that it means queen ?" " Yes. I am a Hungarian, and I can speak Latin," was the curt rejoinder. Madame Saincere rang the bell. " Hortense," she said to the servant who answered the summons, "take this child with you." Retina left the room with the same solemnitv of demeanor with which she had approached Madame Saincere. As soon as she was out of hearing, Paul exclaimed, " Who in the name of wonder is that heathenish picturesque little mortal ?" " She is the child of Blanche de Rochetaillee." " What ! of the girl who ran away with that good- for-nothing Nolopoeus." " Exactly." " And what has become of the unfortunate Blanche ?" " Dead. Husband and wife both dead." " The best thing that could happen to them, I think." " Yes, as you think, young Paul." "Well, of course, such a marriage could never have been other than a miserable affair." 10 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. " Mistaken altogether. Blanche was happier than most women, in that she never lost her illusion with regard to the man for whom she had sacrificed so much." " It's a puzzle to me how a high-born, high-bred French girl, could have loved that old adventurer. It looks like sorcery." " The sorcery of passion, my dear boy. Poor Blanche was only sixteen when she returned home from the convent; a rose-bud of a girl, gentle, lov- ing, shy. The Comtesse treated her as a child ; the Comte overlooked her entirely. The soul of the one was in her sons ; the soul of the other in his violin. Monsieur de Rochetaillee was a melomane. He thought of nothing, cared for nothing but music. It was the passion of his life; he could not live without music and musicians. The chateau had long been considered a sort of preserve for pianists and violin- ists. It was at the period when Monsieur Saincere was Procureur Imperiale at Tours, and we saw a good deal of the Rochetaillees, who lived within an easy drive of the town. " If ever there was ' a human being possessed by the demon of music, it was Sebastian Nolopceus. Quite impossible to describe his playing. It was such as I had never heard before nor have ever heard since. He inspired his listeners with what emotions he pleased. I remember once feeling as though I must kneel at his feet and worship him. He had fine features and an elegant figure, but was already gray- haired — no great disadvantage to a dark man. In WHO IS SHE? 11 spite of disparity of age and rank, in spite of differ- ence of country, and habits of life, he won Blanche's young heart. One morning he was missing, and so was the young girl. *' Monsieur Saincere was sent for to the chateau. He and the cure were the only persons who saw the Comte and Comtesse in the first moments of alarm, surprise, and anger. Some days elapsed before the fugitives were traced, and this being the case the only reasonable thing to do was to send the consent to her marriage, which Blanche implored in frantic words. Monsieur Saincere and I went to witness the marriage. After that, I believe neither father nor mother ever pronounced their daughter's name. The chateau was shut up. Monsieur and Madame de Rochetaillee came to Paris, and have never since left their hotel in the Rue St. Dominique. " The news of the birth of the girl you have just seen was written to me by Blanche herself, accom- panied by an earnest prayer that I would once more intercede for her with her parents. Their forgive- ness was all that was wanting to her happiness. Her husband was a genius — the best of men — per- fection. " I dared not broach the subject by word of mouth to either Monsieur or Madame de Rochetaillee, so I enclosed the letter to them — a touching letter, full of all the babyisms of a young mother. It was re- turned to me without an observation. Blanche was then at Darmstadt. I went there, and to my amaze- ment found her in downright poverty. So notorious ; 12 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. indeed, was her want of common comforts during her confinement, that Duke E. — a great admirer of Nolopoeus's talent — sent him five thousand francs. Will you believe it? he lost every sous of it the same evening, at rouge-et-noir, and Blanche stopped my reproaches by asserting ' that he had done per- fectly right, for emotion of all kinds fostered his genius.' " " Then there really was something superior in the poor girl ; that power of losing her own identity in that of another is heroic," returned Paul. " No measuring the heights or depths of woman's capabilities for good or evil," said Madame Saincere. "The same woman who will be an angel for one man, may prove a demon for another. All depends on some mysterious sympathy of natures. However, I am not going to philosophize, but to finish my story. Nolopoeus died, and his poor little loving wife has followed him within the year. She must have met with some good souls who helped her, for Nolopoeus died penniless. Regina, as far as I can make out, earned something by acting fairies, in bal- lets I suppose." " Poor child ! And what is to come of her now ?" " I took her yesterday to the Rue St. Dominique, but both the Comte and Comtesse ignored her pres- ence. Had it not been for an occasional twitch of M. de Rochetaillee's mouth and for Madame's exces- sive pallor, I should have believed them to be as ignorant as they wished to appear of who the child was ; but it is improbable that Blanche did not write WHO IS SHE? 13 to them of her own approaching death and of hoi intention to send her orphan to Paris. When I mus tered courage to say, 'This is your grand-daughter,' the Comte exclaimed, *in a loud harsh voice, 'Not a word, not a word, niadame, as to that young- person.' 'But you cannot leave your daughter's child to starve,' I said. lie answered, 'My notary shall communicate with you, madame,' and then he turned the conversation, hoped that my health was good, that my family were all well, was glad to know that it was my nephew who had gained the great prize of Rome. I left them without much ceremony, as you may believe." " What a tempestuous family !" exclaimed Paul ; "and little Miss looks as if she had inherited the stormy temperament of her family." " Ah ! poor little thing !" " Ah ! poor aunt ; for the upshot of the matter is, that she is left on your hands." " I hope you are not going to lecture me as your cousin Camille did this morning. To hear her, one would suppose that this unlucky orphan was about to deprive me of fortune and reputation." " Not so bad as that," replied Paid. " Still I fear you will find her often in the way. You have been so free of encumbrances, so comfortably without responsibility, I can't bear to think of your begin- ning to have any worries; they will spoil all the placidity that makes you the most lovely and the most charming of women." " Thank you, dear Paul ; it is pleasant at my age 1* 14 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. to hear such compliments; hut do you suppose it is a happiness to have no one to wake for, to think for, to be uneasy or pleased about — to lead the life of a stalled ox ?" " I have not a word to say against your adopting this gipsy, if it pleasures you. I spoke entirely in your interest." " Camille was very grand in her warnings, par- ticularly as to the pecuniary part of the affair. None of my friends need fear I shall be ruined or thwart them of their share of my fortune. M. de Roche- taillee's notary has already informed me that he has orders to furnish me, or any one I may name, with two hundred a year for Mademoiselle Nolopceus' education and other expenses. So much for the present. In the future, she must inherit her mother's portion." " My clear aunt, I was not thinking of money at all, but of your freedom of action, of your entire liberty to do as you like and go where you like." " And, Paul, I answer, no one is at liberty to be of no use to a fellow-creature." " I am satisfied," he said. " Now let us have an- other look at Mademoiselle Nolopceus." This was what had been passing in the kitchen during the colloquy in the salon: " You can sit in that corner," and Hortense pointed to a small wooden bench. " How old are you ?" she continued, as she dipped the escallopes de veau in the delicate white bread-crumbs. Regina took the question into consideration for WHO IS SHE? 15 some five minutes, then answered in a solemn voice, " About ten, I believe, but don't ask me any more questions, for I don't mean to answer them." A beautiful young woman was that Hortense, fair, healthy, gay, and giddy, a beauty in Reubens' best style. She was a severe trial to Madame Saincere, beintr a light that attracted crowds of moths, but, entre nous, Madame Saincere was one of those peo- ple who come into the world as it would seem ex- pressly to help one pilgrim after another on their road. As Regina had declared she would not reply to any interrogatories, Hortense, incapable of silence, burst into song, singing after her own fashion half-a- dozen operatic airs. "You sing like a bird," observed Regina. " As how ?" asked Hortense, flattered. "Without speaking words," explained Regina; then evidently fascinated by Hortense's beauty and gayety, she added, " I can help you, I know how to cook." "You help me?" exclaimed Hortense, laughing and showing all her wonderfully regular little teeth. " You are very pretty," said Regina. " So I am told," replied Hortense, feeling a friend- ship for this naive and disinterested admirer. "Pray, what do you know about cooking?" " I know how to roast and fry, and I can make an omelette." Hortense stared at her. " Who are you ? I thought you were the daughter of a friend of madarae's." 16 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. Regina smiled scornfully. " I am called Regina, because I have royal blood in my veins ; my mother was the daughter of French nobles, but my father was Sebastian Xolopoeus, the greatest player on the violin ever heard. Kings came and bowed to him. ' My father was a royal man." Hortense continued to stare at the little solemn speaker, "Pray, may I inquire whereabouts your father's kingdom is ?" " In the East — I never lie," and the girl sank into obstinate silence. CHAPTER II. PASSING ON.' It was decided that Regina should be sent to school. The institution (schools are all institutions in France) — the institution chosen was that under the direction of Madame Flot, at Passy. To what height of power might not Madame Flot have attained had she been born a man instead of a woman ! She was adroit, penetrating, self-confident, indefatigably active, and something unscrupulous in the means she used to attain her ends : good-tem- pered, good-natured, and withal, possessed of a vig- orous constitution. Her blood ran equably and strongly through her veins. No feebleness about Madame Flot ; and this plentitude of physical strength gave her a general ascendancy. Rosy, plump, smiling— she appeared a very incarnation of prosperity ; and to appear prosperous is a great help to becoming so. "Who, for instance, could have con- fidence in the talent of the lean apothecary in Romeo and Juliet ? Whatever were Madame Flot's private troubles, she carefully hid them. No one ever heard her com- plain of her idle smoking husband. She never sounded the alarum of her woes and deceptions. She never presented her public with any but bright pictures. 2* 18 A rSYCHE OF TO-DAY. Madame Saincere had no sooner asked a question as to the terms of the institution than Madame Flot was down upon her. " You have a little girl — give her to me. I'll make her everything you can desire. All my pupils are happy and clever and good. Tenez, look at that group in the garden. The eldest is to be married in three weeks. -She left me only two months ago, and is here to-day merely as a visitor. All my girls make capital marriages. I have fifty English — pretty fair creatures ; not more than a dozen Ger- mans — excellent solid paste [bonne pate). Yes, yes. Dear lady, trust me with your little girl. As to terms : the first year, a thousand francs, including our uniform, but not other clothes. She must have a trousseau. See what large grounds we possess ; and give a look at our chapel decorated with paint- ings done by my pupils. Monsieur l'Abbe Labaume takes such an interest in us. He comes right across Paris to say our Mass. Excellent man ; perfectly to be trusted with young tender hearts. Not severe— not too earnest about confession. Between us, quite a man of the world — of the best world," and so on talked the smiling head of the institution for young ladies at Passy. At the sight of so many happy-looking healthy young creatures frolicking in the garden, Madame Saincere thought she could not do better than send the tragical-looking orphan to join them. She was then led through the interior of the house PASSING ON. 19 Large dormitories, Avell aired in summer, well warmed in winter; a dozen pianos going at once in half-a- dozen successive rooms; some half a hundred easels in a long gallery. Everything on a great scale — on a scale in harmony with the mistress. Madame Saincere took leave of Madame Flot say- ing she would think the matter over; but Madame Flot had no doubts as to the result of Madame Saincere's reflections. Madame Flot had dexterously gained a knowledge of all the circumstances of Regina's story, and also had penetrated Madame Saincere's perplexities, not free of alarm at the charge that had been so unex- pectedly thrown on her. " The girl will be here within a week," soliloquized the schoolmistress; "she shall have No. 15 bed. The poor lady is dying to get rid of her in a credit- able manner — a child interferes so with a woman's liberty. I understand perfectly well we would like to save ' the £joat and the cabbage.' " Madame Flot judged Madame Saincere according to Madame Flot's self. We have no other standard measure than ourselves — personally as mentally. Is it not affirmed on good authority that in every painter's work — be it historical or portraiture — you will always find a likeness to the painter's self? Roundness, shortness of lines, and fairness; or length, thinness, and darkness, as it happens to be with the artist's own person. Paul Latour's departure for Rome coincided with 20 A TSYCHE OF TO-DAY. that of Regina's for school. Regina, dressed in the uniform of Madame Flot's institution, came to wish Madame Saincere and her nephew good-by. " What a metamorphosis ! Xot so picturesque though," exclaimed Paul, as he surveyed Regina. " I come to thank you, madame, for all your kind- ness to me," said the little girl, with apparent self- possession. " You will be good, I am sure. Strive also to learn," said Madame Saincere. " If Madame Flot is satisfied with you, your Christmas holidays shall be spent with me." Reo-ina still lino-ered. " It is time for you to go, ma petite. Has Hor- tense got the key of your trunk ? Come and em- brace me." Regina held up her face — the patient face of a child who has never known anything but sorrow. " Come and kiss me also, Regina," said Paul ; and slipping a small gold piece into her hand, he whis- pered, "Buy yourself a doll as a keep sake from me." The girl made no answer ; but when she was in the coach, Hortense perceived that she was crying. "Don't be a coward," said Hortense. "They won't eat you at school. You ought to be very glad you are going to learn music and dancing. You are born under a lucky star, mafoi." " I am not a coward. That's not why I am crying. You might beat me to death, and I would not cry." " Cry, then, if it's a pleasure to you." PASSING ON. 21 Paul Latour cle la Mothe was at this period a young man of thrce-and-twenty, with manners pecu- liarly agreeable to women of all ages and classes. His had been the every-day story of early inclina- tions thwarted, of obstacles thrown in the way of the strong bias of the individual. Paul was born a painter, and his father and mother insisted on his becoming a Government employe. Paul had loved, with the love that comes but once in life, a girl who had grown up at his side ; but his mother had as strong an antipathy for the object of her son's affections as for painting, and indeed for art in general. Few Frenchmen resist the wishes or defy the pro- hibitions of their parents in the matter of marriage ; and Paul submitted to the sentence of condemnation passed on his love. But having given up his incli- nations on one po'int, he claimed compensation in another, and Monsieur and Madame Latour de la Mothe had to consent to his going to Paris, to enrol himself among the pupils of Forgres. Disappointment in one matter is often the step- ping-stone to success in another — Paul regretting Adeline had no stomach for Paris dissipation. He gave himself entirely to the new mistress gained by such a sacrifice; and as concentration of will is, sooner or later, sure of victory, we find him, after two years' study, the successful competitor for the grand prize of Home for painting. The evening before his departure for Italy, the same on which Regina had gone to Passy, Paul 22 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. lounged late in the Champs Elysees, not in the prin- cipal walk but in some of the side alleys undi trees. The lights and sounds from the cafes- ...nan- tants reached him softened, and made a pleasant accompaniment to his reverie. What boundless hopes, what vast aspirations dila- ted his breast ! His Adeline si mignonne et si grou- cieuse had no more consistency in his memory at that moment than the shadow in a dream. No Eve of mortal birth decked his fancy — busy with visions ol superhuman beauty — such as may have floated be- fore the rapt eyes of the young Raphael. Paul felt no doubt as the great Alexander did when he set out on his mighty military promenade ; Paul was going also to conquer new worlds. Paul's mother sat at home in the family house in the quiet country town, where this only and beloved son was born, and asked herself how it i she had given birth to a genius? Why must she of all wo- men be so unfortunate ? Not one of her neighbors could make the same comjilaint — their sons left the Lycee, went into banks, bureaux or ministflres, sure, if long enough life was granted them, to become Re- ceivers-General, or Directors, or Inspectors of some- thing or other ; sure after threescore and ten of a pension. Sons willing to marry the girl of their mother's choice, and affording their parents the in- effable joy of at least one grandchild. And she, who only asked of Heaven an ordinary mortal, who saw no use in a young man who would inherit from twelve to fifteen thousand francs, hav- PASSING ON. 23 'ngr any peculiar talent, she must consent to her son -ling a sort of vagabond — to his going to Rome — ha** over the world perhaps. And after all, where was the certainty if he had any such wonderful tal- ent. It might have been better to let him marry that frivolous Adeline, with a purse as light as her head. Madame Latour de la Mothe sat at her window watching the same sunset as Paul was contemplating in Paris ; but hers were no pleasant visions— she was as sorrowful as Sisera's mother waiting in vain for her son's return. Though death had not placed its icy barrier between them, she felt that they were nevertheless forever separated. She and Paul would never again live together as they had done; they would meet occasionally, but he would never again be Avholly hers, dwelling under the same roof, giving and rec< ig the late and early kiss — never more — never more. She had lost her son. Oh ! how she anathematized Paris, and Rome, and art, and boyish love ! When Paul entered his bedroom, he found Hor- tense on her knees before his half-packed trunk. "You spoil me, Hortense, because I am going away." " When are you coming back, Monsieur Paul ?" " Not for many years I hope and believe," he said, sitting down so as to get a good view of the beau- tiful girl. Hortense seemed to bloom into greater loveliness under his long gaze. 24 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. "I have finished packing your other trunk, Mon- sieur Paul. Who are you going to stay with, who is to take care of you, send your things to the wash, and sew on your buttons ?" " That reminds me," he said. " Get a needle and thread, like a good girl, and show me how to fasten on a button." Hortense burst into one of her wildest laughs, every one of her little teeth in sight. "Many a fine lady would give half her fortune to have your teeth," said Paul. " But I am in earnest about the buttons — get a needle and thread." She fetched her work-box, and as-ain kneeling 1 O CD down, this time close to his knee, she began the les- son. In spite of being only a bonne, Hortense had small taper fingers, and Paul remarked this and also a certain agitation and short breathing about her. " You will never be able to do it, Monsieur Paul," she said, pettishly, snatching the needle out of his hand. " This house will be like a tomb when you are gone." " Xot as long as such a blithe bird as you remain in it," replied Paul. " But I am not going to stay in it, Monsieur Paul. I don't mean to go on all my life cooking and slav- ing. I can better myself, and — I shall." "I am sure I don't object," said Paul, laughing at the girl's tragedy tone. She rose from her knees at his side, and stood facing him with angry eyes. " You don't object !" PASSING ON. 25 she repeated mockingly ; " yon mean yon don't care what becomes of mo !" "I don't know yon in this mood. Yon shouldn't be cross to me the last evening you may ever see me." " Oh ! Monsieur Paul, Monsieur Paul, I am not cross ; it is not that !" Hortense paused, grew first very red, then turned pale as ashes. She added, in quick, short accents, " I can go on the stage, if I please ; I have an offer from the manager of the 'Gaiete.'" "Why, where did he ever see you?" asked Paul, surprised. " Never mind. Shall I accept the engagement ?" " Better remain with my good aunt." " Not after you are gone," and her eyes met his entreatingly. It was Paul's turn to change color. He said, hesitatingly, "I wish you every good, and I hope whatever change you make may be for your happi- ness." " I wonder if gentlemen ever have any heart for poor girls like me !" ejaculated Hortense. " Good- by, Monsieur Paul, good-by." " Shake hands, Hortense." She thrust back his offered hand violently, and ran out of the room. Paul waited some time, expecting, perhaps wish- ing, her to come back ; but his good angel prevailed. And so next morning he set off alone for Rome. Mademoiselle Adeline Mayer, whom he had loved, 2 20 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. and who had owned she loved him passing well, mar- ried shortly after, by desire of her parents. 3i. Victor Aubry, a proprietor of fruitful vineyards in Cham* pagne, and Hortense Secorbean left Madame Saiu- cere's service to enter that of the " Great Serpent," CHAPTER III. FRENCH PRECAUTION. The next six years was a term of trace in the destiny of our dramatis personal. Regina went through the usual vicissitudes of a school-girl's life, even to having the typhus fever, Paul remained obstinately in Rome. Possibly he might have returned sooner, but for the continual harping of his mother on one string, that of his marriage. Madame Latour de la Mothe continued to cherish the hope that her son would renounce painting, and settle down a married man in his native place, and during these six years found at least three models of perfection, any one of whom she would have welcomed as a daughter-in-law. "We constantly see the most formidable obstacles removed by a persevering pressure, and the strongest determinations fall before the tenacious efforts of feebleness. Thus, one fine day, Paul, wearied out, set off for Juvigny, his native town, to be intro- duced to one of his mother's unexceptionable " rose- buds." Sphinxes clothed in white muslin, Paul called young girls with suitable dots. ■ Before Paul arrived in Paris, Madame Saincere knew that the matrimonial negotiation had failed — failed, according to Madame Latour de la Mothe's 28 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. version, through the abominable coquetry of " that Adeline Aubry." Madame Saincere was enjoined by her sister to talk reason with Paul on this subject. Thus one evening she said, " I don't think I have heard you laugh once since you arrived." " Is that a matter of regret ?" he asked. " Yes, I think so. A laugh is like a ray of sun- shine. I am of Ninon's opinion : ' Que la joie de V esprit est la mesure de sa force.'' " " The gayety of a mind need not express itself by laughter. At nearly nine-and-twenty a man has had some experience. He is partially disabused as to the charms of existence, and as life begins to appear to him a misty problem, he is less disposed to laugh." Madame Saincere took up the conversation by a change of subject. " And so you found everything at Juvigny much as when you left." Paul lifted the lids of his eyes and looked fixedly at his aunt. " On the contrary, I found very little the same. The lower town is no longer lighted by dripping oil-lamps, swung across the streets. It has gas, and there are tolerable pavements where thei - e were formerly none. There are fewer dirt-heaps before the old houses in the Cote de la Tour. My mother's hair is nearly white. Those I left boys and girls are men and women — the fathers and mothers of other girls and boys." " One would imagine you had been absent twenty years instead of six. The air of Juvigny is not good for you, Paul. When your mother wishes to see you FRENCH PRECAUTION. 29 let her come here. Hard work is what you require. Remember if a man has not done something worth doing by the time he is five-and-thirty he may be considered a failure. It is not easy to build up a reputation, therefore as few holidays as possible." " Why tight about the bush ?" he said, growing pale, his features contracting as in a crisis of bodily pain. " I see that my mother has written you all her fears and conjectures." " She has told me all that is commonly said of you and Madame Aubry. " Inventions," he replied. " All inventions are based on some truth, friend Paul. You are on a slippery path ; have you ever considered whither it leads? Oh, heavens! that men and women will be such fools ! And for what ? the most evanescent thing in the world. ~No love lasts, Paul." He looked angrily at her. " Mine has lasted eight years." She smiled. " And yet you remained absent six years, of your own free will. If you spoke truly you would say that your boy's feelings have been revived by meeting Madame Aubry again, and very likely 6he has done her best to revive them." " Women are always cruel in their judgments of women," he returned. " Perhaps — at any rate men always say so — when we interfere with their game. I wonder how you would judge the case were it your -own instead of M. Aubry's ?" 3* 30 A rSYCHE OF TO-DAY. "Hang him: he cares for nothing but his fishing and his vines. He sees nothing, hears nothing : he is a mere lump of matter; unable to comprehend her. Her mother is absorbed by whist and her con- fessor — all the women are jealous of Her. And you want to rob her of her only friend !" " What you feel is not friendship) !" "I beg your pardon. I am the best judge of my own feelings ; and I know that it is a strong affec- tion, and not a passion I have for Adeline." " So much the better, my dear ; at the same time take an old woman's counsel — remain in Paris, and give up Juvigny." Here the conversation ended for the present ; Mad- ame Saincere putting her trust for Paul's cure rather in the fascinations and pleasures of Paris, than in the efficacy of her counsels. In the course of the following month Paul was established in a suitable atelier and apartment in the Rue Blene, not five minutes' walk from his aunt's house. What with the gentle blasts from Fame's trumpet which had preceded his arrival — what Avith the intimacies he had formed in Italy, and his birth and easy fortune, he was received into the worlds of art and fashion with equal cordiality. He had not to make his way — way was made for him. Every Sunday, however, Paul passed in the Hue Blanche. It was on these Sundays that he and Regina met, it being one of the customs of Madame Plot's institution that her young ladies should go and spend every alternate Sunday with their- parents FRENCH PRECAUTION. 3L or friends. Paul soon observed that Regina was as little changed in manner as in appearance. She was still given to haunting the corners of rooms — still shy and without expansiveness. He remarked also that she wus far from being a favorite among his aunt's relations; and it was equally clear to him that she never sought to propitiate any one. He asked himself if this absence of all desire to please was a virtue, or the want of one. Madame Saincere explained this sort of apathy by placing it to the account of the typhus fever, from which Regina had only lately recovered. The sight of Regina brought back Hortense to Paul's recollection. " She is a demi-monde celebrity," said Madame Saincere, in answer to his inquiries. " I have once or twice caught a glimpse of her in a carriage and four going to the races. She never fails to send me a magnificent bouquet every New Year's Day, with her humble respects ; and I more than suspect that all Regina's handsome Hrennes. sent anony- mously, proceed from the same source." Though Paul dined alone with Madame Saincere on Sundays, Regina counting for nothing, there was always an addition in the evening of some half-dozen intimates, of many years' standing, or the sons and daughters of those intimates. There was first, Dr. M , an oracle with Madame Saincere — a well of science, a systematist defending his opinions with obstinacy, yet never with passion. There was Old General Fey, with the rude voice and soft heart;. 32 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. believing, and loudly asserting that all the prosper- ity of France vanished with Louis Philippe's green umbrella. The two brother sculptors, Emile and Gustave Roule, young, joyous, full of promise as spring; Jean Bertrand, the well-known author — every page of whose writings betrays the tender sentiment and benevolence of the writer ; and who, in conversation, is an exasperating pessimist, con- tinually citing Leopardi's dictum, that " the world is a league of villains against the good — of the vile against the noble." But the person who most im- pressed Regina was Madame Daville. To the school- girl it seemed natural that men should argue and declaim ; but that a woman, and such a little wo- man, should dispute, and harangue, criticise, and condemn Government and senators, hold her own, nay, silence even Monsieur Bertrand, was a miracle to Madame Flot's pupil. What sort of a man must Monsieur Daville be, to dare to be Madame Daville's husband ? An ogre seven feet high at least, thought Regina. For the last two years she had been present twice a month at these meetings, learning very different things from what wei - e taught at Passy. Sometimes, when her friends were gone, Madame Saincere would remember Regina's existence, and say — " My dear, you should have been in bed long ago. Are you not sleepy, child ?" " Xo, madame ; I like to listen." For an instant it would cross Madame Saincere's mind that all the subjects discussed might not be FRENCH PRECAUTION. 33 the fittest for a young girl to hear; but the thought was forgotten before the end of the fortnight brought Regina back to her corner. She sat there, quiet as a carved image, for many and many a Sunday after Paul formed one of the group. Neither aunt nor nephew remarked that the mar- ble was losing its rigidity and its coldness, that the eyes were less disposed to immobility. The statue was imbibing life ; but none in that salon perceived the progress of transformation. Yet as the girl passed along the streets, many of those who met her turned to look again in admiration of her beauty. Her schoolfellows also began to be civil to her ; beauty wields a sceptre even in institutions such as that of Passy. But Madame Saincere and Paul only saw the Regina of other days. Paul had said of her, " a reserved child is as disappointing as a vio- let without perfume," and had ceased to notice her. His nature craved for expansiveness as much as did that of Regina's. It was all at once that Madame Saincere awoke to the fact that her protegee was a grown-up hand- some girL Her enlightenment came from seeing the eyes of the brothers Roule constantly straying to a particular angle of her salon. " Ah, ha !" thought Madame Saincere, " here is a new trouble. Good heavens ! how time passes ! I must put some order in this affair. Poor Emile has neither money nor position; it will not do." Regina was left at Passy for some weeks. The poor girl paled and pined, and Madame Flot, who 34 A PSYCHE OF TO-DAY. hated ill health, wrote to Madame Saincere that Mademoiselle Nolopoeus was indisposed, and that the physician of the institution prescribed change of air. " How in the world am I to marry that girl ?" exclaimed Madame Saincere. " The only man I see who has any fortune is Jean Bertrand, and he is too old." " Tell her school-mistress to look out for a suitable husband for her. The Confessor will be able to help." This was Paul's advice, and yet he had had some experience that girls are not mere bodies with- out wills or hearts. Madame Saincere was a Frenchwoman, and, there- fore, not at all shocked by Paul's advice. A hus- band had been found for herself and for Paul's mother by a mutual friend. In short, it is the cus- tom in France for parents and friends to arrange marriages, and some people contend that such a system is preferable to that of letting young people choose for themselves. Madame Saincere did not precisely empower Madame Flot to find a husband for Regina, but the two ladies talked the matter over, and shortly after Madame Flot proposed the " adjoint" of the Mayor of Quimper Carention. " No, no; a thousand times no," returned the Parisian lady. " A girl brought up in Paris could never live in Quimper Carention — as well send her to Cayenne." A brief correspondence on the necessity of taking into consideration Mademoiselle Kolopoeus's mar- riage ensued between Madame Saincere and the FRENCH PRECAUTION. 35 Comte and Comtesse