MOPSffN LIFt EDfTED * HENRI PENS DU BOiS "' .' Mnwertsfy s<>f (Q A GALLIC GIRL THE MODERN LIFE LIBRARY EDITED BY HENRI PENE DU BO IS A GALLIC GIRL ( Le Manage de Chiffon ) BY TRANSLATED BY THE EDITOR JQeto JBorfc: BRENTANO'S CHICAGO WASHINGTON PARIS Copyright, iSqj, by BRENTANO'S THE CAXTON PRESS NEW YORK INTRODUCTION. When I was a child I heard a young woman say: "I never* read novels. Their story is a perpetual one of a girl who falls from a third-story window safely into the arms of her lover. ' ' Oh, how I have searched for that novel ! I know very well now that novels are as we read them, not as they are written, and that the gentle young woman whose curious phrase still haunts my reminiscences of the days when, the weather was always bright, had doubtless received her impression from the "Vicar of "Wakefield," or "Clarissa Harlowe," or any other novel entirely inno- cent of conveying her naive idea. It is a naive idea, but it is truer than if it were learned and complicated as are the subtleties that Bourget molds into fault- lessly vague phrases, for love, beauty, art, that make life endurable, give one the sr 1 4217 VI. INTRODUCTION. strange feeling of falling from a height that may be expressed in the image that the young woman had in her mind. Gyp gives one this impression. Her style, sketched and not finished, her wit never labored, the vividness with which she trans- fers into words fugitive notes of conversa- tions and passing nights of ideas, are her distinctive qualities, I should think ; but it is folly to analyze them, as to analyze any- thing else in this world where the preten- tions of chemists have already spoiled so many things. A countess, a descendant of people who have been refined and full of tact for generations, a clever painter, a suc- cessful dramatist, a delicate little athlete, a moralist of the serious, immovable quality that forms of morality may not affect is not her philosophy admirable? Her heroines are popular. They are not the heroines of ideal and sublime love. They are not like those whom Ronsard, Lamartine and Alfred de Yigny immortal- ized. They are not Cassandra, Marie, Helene de Surgeres, Laure, Eloa, Elvire, INTRODUCTION. VII. but of the same race as Alix, Isabeau and Alisoun, in favor of whom the common peo- ple will never forgive to Beatrice the dis- dainful air of her aristocratic silhouette cut out of a panel of azure. Darling is one of Villon's heroines in a higher grade. Manners and the decorations of life are incessantly changing. It is not thus with literary forms, the number of which is ex- tremely limited. That is why we should preserve carefully those that exist, and when any of them has fallen into desuetude try to bring it to life again. The novel is marvellously useful to represent modern life, which is so complicated and diverse that one can never see it in a synthetic form. It may appear to us only in its episodes, by short rhapsodies wherein are instantaneously fixed the innumerable skir- mishes of our Iliad. An isolated being should not be ignorant of any of the springs that move us or of the passions that destroy us. He may find them in such works as Gyp's. They are never tedious. She never thought of writ- VIII. INTRODUCTION. ing for posterity - - " Elle s'en moque." I like that, don't you? Women will easily realize that this series is made for them, since there have been banished from it all the banal conventions which people pretend to make them accept as if they were articles of faith. I have thought that virtue and love were things great enough in themselves to dispense with hypocritical lies and sentimental fictions. HENRI PENE DU Bois. A GALLIC GIRL. i. -An officer's wife! What a trade. I would rather be an usher in a public school. The Marquise de Bray shrugged her shoulders. - When you learn w T ho the officer is... Even if it is M. de Trene, whom they say is so stylish, I wouldn't have him, so... - You wouldn't have him? Really? Yet you haven't the right to be hard to please, since... - " ...since your father left nothing ex- cept debts, and you haven't a cent. . . " Oh, A GALLIC GIRL. - know that phrase ; you have repeated it to me often enough for me not to forget it! -Well, then?... Well, even if I haven't a cent, I will never marry against my will... Especially - - M. de Bray said tim- idly since, although you are not rich, you have a dowry - A dowry? said the child in aston- ishment. A dowry that you give me? Her tender eyes, pale gray, which laughed through lashes astonishingly long and bushy, rested affectionately on her step- father. Irritated, Mme. de Bray replied drily : It is useless to teach her what she need not know, and make her still harder to please. - How am I hard to please ? exclaimed Coryse indignantly In what am I hard to please? I was sixteen three months ago, and nobody that I know has asked to marry me. Yes, somebody has asked, and you refuse before vou know who he is. A GALLIC GIRL. Because I will not marry an officer. . . Never ! I meet officers' wives here ! That isn't what is lacking in the four regiments. For nothing in the world would I be in their place. I haven't the temperament. I am not polite enough. I know that if my colonel had a wife like ^fme. de Bassigny, for instance, nothing could induce me to call on her, nothing ! And turning to the back parlor, as if to find there a support, she asked : - Am I not right, Uncle Marc? Without giving Uncle Marc the time to reply, Mme. de Bray declared : - This does not concern your uncle. "Will you, yes, or no, listen to me for a moment? And in a solemn tone : The one who does you the honor to ask you to marry him is the Due d'Aubieres. She stopped, counting on her daughter's astonishment. In fact, Coryse's little face expressed extreme stupor. Mme. de Bray mistook this stupor for joyful surprise, and asked triumphantly : A GALLIC GIRL. Well, what have you to say to this? - "Well, - - replied the little girl, who burst into a laugh I say that I am dumb- founded ! And without caring for the threatening looks of her mother, she continued placidly : -Yes, he must be at least forty, M. d' Aubieres, since he is a colonel... He is rather homely... And I hear people say that he hasn't much money... The Marquise stared at her daughter, and contemptuously : Oh, it's perfect. Now she also wants money. Coryse shook her too blondish head. - Oh, not at all ! Money is indifferent to me, provided I am not a Duke... I mean a Duchess. It is ridiculous, a big title with no money. I do not say that if I had one by birth I would, under pretext that I am not rich, bury it in a cavern. . . No ! My title would bother me, but I would wear it all the same, since it would not be my fault. Anyhow, it isn't only because of the title that I say no ! A GALLIC GIRL. Because of the career? It is, above all, because of the man. - But you have repeated a hundred times that M. d' Aubieres was charming and that you liked him a great deal. -Certainly, I like him a great deal... but not to marry him. In the first place, I find him old, and then, if I had to spend all my time with him, I haven't the least idea that it would be very funny. The marquise looked at her husband and replied : - Nobody marries for fun ! - Well, it happens that I will not marry for anything else ! - That child is crazy ! I prefer to retire ! And rising, with a movement which she thought was noble and which was ridicu- lous, the marquise went out of the parlor. "When the door was shut, M. de Bray said softly : - You are wrong, my little Coryse, to... Coryse, whom her mother's exit had left calm, in the old armchair of faded silk wherein she disappeared, stood up quickly : 6 A GALLIC GIRL. Why do you call me Coryse? Why don't you say Darling? Are you cross with me, too? - I am not cross at all, but. . . - Yes, you are cross ! I can see, and then, what did you wish to say when I cut you? - Nothing, I do not remember ! - I know ! You were saying, " You are wrong to "... I am wrong to do what? - To discuss with your mother as you do. - Then I must let myself be married in spite of myself... without defending myself? - 1 do not say that. Then what do you say? - I say that. . . that without. . . without. . . - You see, you are stuttering ! -But... - You are stuttering, there is no ques- tion about it! I defy you to get out of your explanation. Yes, either I let people impose upon me and I do not discuss, or I discuss and do not let people impose upon me. A GALLIC GIRL. - You might discuss... but with another tone and in other terms. . . your language exasperates your mother. - Yes, I know, she likes the noble style ! All the tenderness and infinite kindness contained in the eyes of the child disap- peared, and she added in a harsh voice : - She is so distinguished ! M. de Bray said with a desolate air : - You make me very, very sorry. . . - And I would never cause you the least pain ! I like you so much. So do I like you,.. - Then, why do you want to send me away... to marry me in spite of everything? - But I do not wish to... - Yes, you do wish to. . . and I am not sixteen and a half years old. Please let me alone. . . Let me live here a little longer. . . She counted on her fingers : - Five years. . . not even five years. . . after that I will go away, I promise it to you... I promise it to you. . . The sweet gray eyes were troubled and round tears, similar to balls of glass, fell A GALLIC GIRL. without changing their form on the fresh cheeks of Coryse. Corysande d'Avesnes, who was called Coryse, or more ordinarily Darling, was a solid and supple little girl, more a child than a young girl, with the angles and the disproportions of childhood and the trans- parent skin of very little folks a skin under which pink lights ran. Her harmo- nious movements, although a little awk- ward, recalling those of a young spaniel, irritated her mother almost as much as her too little correct language. Much infatuated with herself, the Mar- quise de Bray considered in general all those with whom social necessities obliged her to live as poor, inferior beings to whom she did the great honor of her condescen- sion. She had passed her life disdaining and tormenting the good and simple people who surrounded her. Her first victim was the Comte d'Avesnes, Coryse's father, who had the wit to die in two years, without ever having felt much compunction in or- ganizing elsewhere an existence which he A GALLIC GIRL. 9 found impossible at home. His widow, re- maining without a fortune, had lived, with her daughter, with an uncle and an aunt who adored the child. Mme. d'Avesnes made rare apparitions at the house where Uncle and Aunt de Launay raised the child. She traveled, passing her fc time in Paris or among friends, unable, she said, to become accustomed to provincial life. It was during one of her visits at Pont- sur-Sarthe that she pleased M. de Bray. He was rich enough and charming. She was beginning to get old and realized that her beauty, made of freshness and bril- liancy, would suddenly vanish. Instead of being for the Marquis what- she had been for many others, she softly and skilfully led him into marriage. Resigned to reign- ing over Pont-sur-Sarthe, since she could not shine elsewhere, she married M. de Bray, saying loudly that she married only that her daughter's future might be secure. Then began for the poor husband the frightful life, made of yells and of silence, of scenes and of compromises, which his. 10 A GALLIC GIRL. predecessor had led, as also Uncle and Aunt de Launay, who bore everything for love of their little darling. But it was for her daughter that Mme. de Bray reserved her worst persecutions. Everything in the nature of the child crossed her narrow ideas narrow from certain points of view and measurably large from other points of view. A monomaniac about nobility and money also liking above everything display and pose, she could not forgive in little Coryse a sim- plicity that she did not understand. Hav- ing, properly speaking, no determinate type, the Marquise had created one with many diverse and commonplace images. She had learned to talk at the playhouse and to think in novels, and as she had no delicacy of sentiment or of sensation, she applied badly what she did not understand and succeeded when she wished to be tragic, for instance, in producing effects intensely comic, which provoked in Darling explo- sions of gaiety. Commonplace in manner and appearance, A GALLIC GIRL. 11 Mme. cle Bray incessantly reproached her daughter for being common and lacking the distinction which was an ' ' appanage of the d'Avesnes ! ' : Seeing Coryse cry, M. de Bray thought of nothing except consoling her. - Now my little darling. . . be reason- able... it will be all right. She replied, shaking discouragingly her little head : It will be all right if I marry M. d' Au- bieres? Well, I would ask for nothing better, you may be sure, if I did not feel that if I did this I would commit a bad act and make him miserable. I would marry him at once so that you could get rid of me. - It is wrong of you to say that ! I am not saying it to you. . . you know very well. But your mother is not more anxious than I am to see you quit us. Oh yes, she thinks of nothing else. She is so afraid that I will not marry, and above all that I will not make a fine mar- 12 A GALLIC GIRL. riage. . . not that I may be happy, that is not the reason why she cares... oh, no, that is only a trifle. . . but for her vanity, so that she may have the satisfaction of being en- vied by such and such people... to amaze the people of Pont-sur-Sarthe, and to bother her friends.... not for anything else. I am thoroughly grieved to hear you talk thus of your mother. - I cannot help it. I must say what I think. Precisely, you must not think. . . - How do you want me not to think? How can you think that I may believe she likes me? Before you came here, did she ever take the slightest interest in me except to scold me, or to scold those whom she accused of spoiling me? Would I, if it had not been for Uncle and Aunt de Launay, and for you later, ever have been cared for and caressed? Oh, yes, she fondled me twice a year when she went away, and when she returned from her travels. It happened at the door, where I held to the A GALLIC GIRL. 13 skirts of my nurse, trembling to see her re- enter the house, which was so peaceful when she was not there. Oh, these were real transports of fond affection ! 4 c My Corysande, my beloved daughter." One would have thought that we were playing a drama, and that I had just been found at the bottom of a well! And she raised me in her arms... and she crushed me on her cor- set. All this, was for the servants and the stage driver. . . but as they knew her well, it didn't fool them ! Anyway, regularly the little scene of the melodrama was ex- hibited to them. And, become joyful again, the child con- cluded : - She was always lacking in simplicity, you know. - You exaggerate some imperfections. - I exaggerate? You cannot think that, you who put on no airs at all. You take pleasure in opposing your mama about nothing. Your c ' mama ' ' ! take care. . . she might hear you. 14 A GALLIC GIRL. M. de Bray looked at the door with an anxious air, and she exclaimed : -You are afraid, aren't you? And in a solemn tone : -You have forgotten that " mama " is a word good enough for janitors... people who are well born talk differently. - Since she has the weakness to care for a trifle like this, why not satisfy her? JBut I do satisfy her! But I do noth- ing else ! When I talk to her, I do not call her. . . I avoid. . . but when I talk of her I say "my mother," as big as your arm... my mouth is full of it, but not my heart ! Oh, it isn't my fault... I have tried... especially since you have replaced my poor papa ! You were so good to the savage and ugly little girl who would not look at you... and I have loved you so much since I have known you that to please you I would have been glad to love your wife. But I couldn't ! - What you are saying is abominable ! How is it? I am attached to her, I would be much grieved if anything hap- pened to her and I wish her only happi- A GALLIC GIRL. 15 ness... but when I don't see her I breathe more freely that's sure ! Seeing the discomfited air of her step- father, she said : You know everything that I have said ; I never said it to anybody except you. - It's lucky ! muttered the poor man. - It's true I have no ' confidence in any- body but you. She glanced over her shoulder at the Comte de Bray, who was silently rocking in a bamboo armchair, and added : And also in Uncle Marc... why don't you say something, Uncle Marc? Uncle Marc, a tall fellow, long and ele- gant, replied in a singing voice : Because I have nothing to say. Any- way, your mother always imposes silence upon me before I ever try to speak, conse- quently. . . - 1 know ! But she is not here ! Since she is not here, you have said things which were about right, my poor Darling, and, as I cannot tell you that you are right, I hush... 16 A GALLIC GIRL. You are good, too ! Oh, excellent ! But leave me alone he added, rising brusquely and brushing aside Coryse, who had climbed on his knees like a baby. She asked in surprise : -Why do you push me like that? Because you are too big to do such things. At your age, oughtn't you to have better manners? What manners? Can't I go on my uncle's knees, now? And with a reserved air she concluded : Oh, if you were not my uncle ! Well then - - replied Marc de Bray harshly - - precisely, I am not your uncle ! - Oh ! the little girl said grievously Oh, how wicked you are to tell me that! and she sobbed on the cushions of the divan. Well asked Uncle Marc, irritated what is the matter with her to-day? She does not cry easily, and she is crying all the time ! She is unbearable ! A GALLIC GIRL. 17 Have a little indulgence said M. de Bray she is irritated over this mar- riage affair. I understand that. Take care that she does not hear you. She would definitely send poor Aubieres to the devil ! -"Well? I hope you "are not going to let this monstrous thing happen. -Her mother cares so much that it should happen ! Her mother is mad! Aubieres is twenty-five years older than Darling ! If gossip talks truly, little de Liron adores you... and she is twenty years younger than you are. Admitting that this is true. . . she adores me to-day, but to-morrow. . . - I will cite to you the example of our mother, who was twenty-five years younger than her husband, and who always loved him passionately. I will reply that these are examples which one finds only in one's own family... fortunately ! In the meanwhile, poor Bar- 18 A GALLIC GIRL. ling is crying so much that it is painful to look at her. He went to the divan, and putting his hand on her neck said affectionately : - 1 ask your pardon, little Darling, for having grieved you. . . She lifted her head and asked : Why were you so wicked ; why did you say you were not my uncle? Because, although I love you as much as if I were, I am not your uncle. I am the brother of your mother's husband, I am nothing to you, I might marry you... if I were not of the same age as my friend Au- bieres, whom you so gently send to the devil. - Oh exclaimed the child in astonish- ment - - you are of the same age as M. d'Aubieres? And she added laughingly, - Well, you are not as much of a degen- erate as he is. Yes... degenerate is the right word. I heard it the other day from a man in the street who used it to explain to me that his wife was somewhat broken up. A GALLIC GIRL. 19 The marquis asked anxiously : - You talked with a man in the street?. . . what man? - A man whom I met when I returned from school. . . I suppose he must have been a street sweeper. . . or a rag picker. - If your mother had seen you talking with that man, she. . . - She would have yelled, I know very well. But she did not see me. And turning brusquely toward Uncle Marc, she asked : - Well, whether you are my uncle for true or not, I have called you my uncle for five years and believe that you are, just as I believe when people are not trying to dis- concert me that papa is papa. So you can very well advise me. Must I or must I not marry M. d'Aubieres? - What you ask is very embarrassing. - Well, if you were in my place what would you do? - In your place I would consult myself. - But it is exactly because I consult myself that... 20 A GALLIC GIRL. - Before saying no, I would sometimes see d'Aubieres... I would reflect... Oh, you think that to see him often might change my opinion? I think the contrary. Aubieres is a man of wit. He is good, well bred... he can only gain by acquaint- ance. . . without being rich he has a comfort- able income, and a historical name. - Oh, I know that his name is historical ! They have repeated often enough in my presence that it is. They have puffed it enough ! But I too have a historical name ! You know, one does not swallow easily the things that one has... it is the things which one has not that one would like to have! - What would you like to have ? She reflected a moment ; then resolutely said: A great deal of love... or if that is too hard, a great deal, a great deal of money ! There would not be a single poor person at Pont-sur-Sarthe. You'd see ! Then I would buy pictures and horses... and I would go A GALLIC GIRL. 21 to the concert every night. Oh, you would not be bothered in my house. ' ' Bothered ! ' If your mother heard you! Yes, but she does not hear me ! A servant opened the door : - Madame would like to speak before dinner to Monsieur le Marquis and to Mon- sieur le Comte. She also tells Mademoi- selle to dress. Dress? exclaimed Coryse astonished then there is company? Turning laughingly toward her stepfather and her uncle, she said : It must be M. d'Aubieres and you are to get indications how to make me shine. Go ! I am going to put on my old pink gown. It is not as pretty and it is dirtier than this one, but it is evening dress. She looked at M. de Bray who was go- ing out, followed by his brother and mut- tered, with tears in her eyes : Anyhow, it is just my luck that the only two beings who love me are nothing at all to me ! 22 A GALLIC GIRL. And as her stepfather turned to answer, she added quickly : - The only two beings is not right ! I had forgotten Uncle Albert and Aunt Ma- thilde, who love me so much and who are really something to me. Suddenly, an idea ran through her head, she plunged under the arm of M. de Bray which held the knob of; the door, and shouted at him laughingly : I am to dine with them to-night. . . She swelled her voice, continuing with emphasis : Please tell my mother, if she has for- gotten. And she disappeared in the stairway. II. Darling had leaped to her room, planted crosswise a hat on her blonde hair, and, entering like a bomb into the servants' room, had taken hold of old Jean, who was putting on cotton gloves which were too narrow for his big hands. Quickly, come, accompany me to Aunt Mathilde's. - But Mademoiselle, you cannot think of it ! There is company at dinner. I have to go to the door, and they are coming. You have lots of time, we'll run. Oh, we are going to run murmured the old coachman in such weather. . . it won't be amusing. 24 A GALLIC GIEL. He finished putting on Ms gloves, push- ing in his fingers widely separated from one another, with an awkward and regular movement. Coryse took his arm and said : - Come, hurry, or we'll be caught ! The good man stopped, his fingers sepa- rated like rays, and asked : - Caught? Then you have not your mother's permission? - I have it without having it... come. - I bet that it is not true... that you haven't it. - Yes... I have it... from papa. - It is just as if you hadn't it at all. The permissions which Monsieur le Marquis gives are like his orders... one might say that they are nothing. In going through the dining-room she stopped in surprise. Hello she said looking at the table... there are several persons at dinner. I thought there would be only M. d' Aubieres. . . "Well, where are you going? To take my cap which is in the stable. A GALLIC GIRL. 25 He rejoined Coryse, who was already walking in rapid strides, and walked a few steps behind her. Suddenly she turned and asked : You know M. d'Aubieres... what do you think of him? I think he is a beautiful colonel. Oh, my poor Jean, they want me to marry him ! Oh!- exclaimed the old coachman with an astonishment so comical that the girl laughed oh, it's not possible... he might be your father ! - That does not matter. . . they want me to marry him anyway. It's Madame la Marquise who wants me to... - Oh said the good man who knew the tastes of his mistress he has a great name, Monsieur le Due d'Aubieres. -Come here, next to me commanded Coryse whom it annoyed to turn her head while walking. You are giving me a stiff neck! -I can't walk next to you... Madame la Marquise has given positive orders. ' ' In 26 A GALLIC GIRL. the street, walk five steps behind Mademoi- selle," is what she said. To others, but not to you who is almost my nurse. There cannot be any etiquette for you. Jean looked at the old granite house which, in front of them, raised on the square its heavy gray silhouette, and mur- mured with a big sigh : There is a good house, with good mas- ters ! Monsieur le Marquis is always good... but he does not often do what he wants to do... whereas Monsieur and Madame de Launay do what each other wants. You are sorry, aren't you, that you quitted them ? - I don't regret, since I quitted them to be with you... but when you are married to the Due d'Aubieres or to another, I won't stay long. And, as Darling made no answer, - I am wrong to complain to you. . . in the first place because she is your mother, and then because you are more to be pitied than me. I can go if I want to, and you can't. A GALLIC GIRL. 27 And, after a silence, the good man pursu- ing his little idea, asked : - Do you think that M. and Mme. de Launay would want me again ? They know very well that I quitted them to be with you, Mile. Coryse, and they find, since I am not their coachman, that their horses are not as beautiful, nor as fat, nor as brilliant. You know very well that you are to stay with me always, Jean, and that I will take you with me when I go. She had lifted the knocker of the porte- cochere. With his eyes full of tears the coachman bent toward her and said : - Would ,you really want in your service an old man like me who is not handsome nor stylish? - Yes, you please me as you are. And yet it's true you are not pretty... Letting the knocker fall, she exclaimed : -Anyhow, run as quick as you can. You have not a moment to lose. And, laughing, without caring for the terrified air of the poor man : 28 A GALLIC GIRL. - You may not get a welcome reception at the house, you know ! Barling's entrance in the dining-room of the Launays, w T ho had just taken their places at table, was a veritable event. Aunt Mathilde and Uncle Albert got up with ex- clamations of pleasure, and the servant per- mitted himself to express a satisfied groan. Everybody adored Darling in the old house where her first childhood had been spent, and where she returned always with joy- She w T as ten years old when her mother took her from these two old people who had been accustomed to regard her as their child. It was for them a painful occasion. It was terrible for the little girl whom the future frightened. Scolded by her mother since the earliest age that she could remem- ber ; fondled by the old uncle and the old aunt as soon as she had known them ; then shaken between caresses and in juries during the visits of Madame d'Avesnes at Pont- sur-Sarthe, Coryse, profoundly gay by tem- perament but sad by reflection, lived in A GALLIC GIRL. 29 perpetual anxiety. When she was very small, seated in a little armchair under the fixed looks of portraits in armor, between the two old people who never let her little curly head get out of their sight, already the child reflected. She reflected that it was good to live and to laugh ; to roll on the carpet of the large parlor or on the lawn of the sad garden, which seemed to her to be full of sun and of joy. She thought that it was amusing to talk with the dogs and the horses, paint- ings and flowers. But all this was not to last. One day, to-morrow perhaps, she would hear at night the big door of the vault open; a big carriage, the noise of which she knew so well, would enter and Uncle Albert, bending over his tall body, would say while kissing her, with a little embarrassment : - My darling, it is your little mother who has come... you must go to meet her with Claudine. She no longer heard, in advance, of the coming of Madame d'Avesnes. Her uncle 30 A GALLIC GIRL. and aunt had observed that as soon as she was warned of her coming she ceased to sleep and to eat. She also cried continu- ally, but she put on a good appearance at the last moment, resigned to her obe- dience when it became absolutely neces- sary. And obediently she would take in her little hand a corner of Claudine's apron and go down stairs resolutely, her eyes dry, while the nurse would say to her with her big, encouraging voice : - Well now, poor Darling. . . you must be brave ! Then she replied in a frightened voice : - You take care and call me Made- moiselle. .. you know very well that she wants you to. Certainly, the scenes and the yells which rained on her irritated Coryse, but they irritated her less than the scenes and the yells which were destined for others. The sight of Aunt Mathilde crying softly in her room, or of a servant pale and carry- ing his boxes in the stairway, troubled her A GALLIC GIRL. 31 to the point of making her remain all night with eyes wide open in her little bed. And it was all this that the big carriage announced, the roll of which she always seemed to hear, even when she played. And always, for years, Darling had lived laughing, but preoccupied; unable to for- get in the course of eight or ten tranquil months, the few bad days which had passed and which were to come, bending in ad- vance her little supple back in the expecta- tion of some frightful shock which she fore- saw. The announcement of her mother's mar- riage, which in itself was indifferent to her, terrified her when she knew that she was to quit the old house where she had grown, and the old parents who had raised her. She knew by sight the Marquis de Bray, whom she often saw on horseback with his brother Marc, and she thought that he had the air of being good. But when she saw that he married her mother, she concluded that he resembled her. Quite mistress of herself when she thought 32 A GALLIC GIRL. that she should be, she did not let her fears appear, and contented herself with silently protesting. To Madame d' Avesnes, who an- nounced to her with big phrases that it was for maternal love and interest in her future that she married again, she replied not a word. And when they came to introduce her to M. de Bray, she went to hide in the garden in a ball of hortensias where she could not be discovered. Pale, with harsh eyes, she assisted in the sad cathedral at the marriage of her mother, understanding vaguely that there disap- peared the last reminiscence of the poor father whom she had not known, and who perhaps would have loved her. And it was with a desolate heart that she went into the new house. At once, M. de Bray loved Darling ; but guessing the thoughts that occurred in her, he did not try to hasten the instant which was to bring them together. The untama- ble character of his wife led to their friend- ship. Frightened by the noise, the tears and A GALLIC GIRL. 33 the grand gestures of the Marquise, these two joyful and good beings tried instinct- ively to find in each other a support. They multiplied, without even realizing the fact, occasions to meet each other ; and Darling, without confessing it to herself, finished by never being joyful and reassured except when her stepfather was present. Always the child had applied herself to conceal the terror in which her mother held her. She stood up at the noise of her cries, affected an irritating calmness and lifted her nose impertinently, although she felt her teeth chattering and her little legs trembling. But one night she betrayed herself. Pursued in the corridor by Madame de Bray, she jumped over the bannister and ran into the library. There, thinking that she was alone, she leaned on the door lis- tening for her mother. Marc de Bray, who lived with his brother, was smoking in a large armchair far from the lamp. He called the little girl softly. She turned, sorry to have been surprised in a moment of weakness. 34 A GALLIC GIRL. - Oh she said sorrowfully you are there? Marc answered : Yes, Mademoiselle, I am here do I annoy you? Darling never told an untruth. She went to him and said : Yes, you saw me afraid, and I don't like people to see me thus ! He laughed and looked at the child affectionately : You are, really a gentle Darling ! If you were afraid of a ghost or of a gun I would say that it is very ugly for a descen- dant of the Avesnes... but of your mother! Oh, my poor little girl... I am very much afraid of her, I an old man with a beard. Oh murmured Coryse you too?... you don't look as if you were afraid. I do not look like it when she is there... it would give her too much pleas- ure... but when she is not here I make up for it and tremble all I can ! It's true!... This morning at breakfast when she went for poor Joseph I wanted to say nothing, A GALLIC GIRL. 35 constrain myself, and my throat contracted itself on a prune. I had to run away and strangle peacefully in the vestibule. Then, become serious : You see, Darling, you never tell my brother anything about yourself. Oh said Coryse. Ye&, you ought to tell my brother frankly when you are sad and when you are afraid. She replied, indifferent and discouraged : What could he do? Well, he is the master, after all ! Darling's eyes opened widely : - He? It isn't possible ! Marc de Bray laughed : - I know very well that it isn't very apparent ! Your stepfather has a horror of discussions and of scenes. He prefers always to yield... - Then, what? - Well, he does not care for himself, but as for you it is another matter. He liked your father, whose friend he was, and he likes you a great deal. 36 A GALLIC GIRL. Seeing that she made a motion of doubt, he said: - A great deal. So do I like you, and if we have never spoken to you of our affec- tion, the reason is that it is not easy to come near a little porcupine who turns her- self into a ball as soon as she sees people whom she does not want to see... And as his brother entered, he said : - Pierre, tell Darling that we are her friends, and I think that to-night she will believe you. From that day an immense affection had been born in the little closed heart of the child, and she had lived more peace- fully. - How is it that you came to-night, my darling?-- asked her good uncle. --I thought that you had company at dinner. She winked oddly : - M. d'Aubieres, eh? she said, jump- ing with both feet into the question. And at once, without giving time for a reply : A GALLIC GIRL. 37 - If you were in my place would you marry him? But Darling ! - - murmured timidly Aunt Mathilde, indicating with her look the presence of the servant. - Pshaw ! What does it matter? M. d' Aubieres asked for my hand in marriage I suppose at four, I heard of it at five ; to- night one portion of the city will know all about it, and to-morrow mother will tell the rest. It looks big when you say it, Pont- sur-Sarthe, 80,000 inhabitants, but it doesn't prevent a bit of gossip to go around it in an instant... you know yourself that M. d'Aubieres wants to marry me. - But said M. de Launay we know it by your mother, who came to tell us and to invite us to dine with her to-night. - Oh, precisely... he is to be introduced to the family... I am to be forced to say yes. Aunt Mathilde protested : - But they need not introduce him... we have known him since he has been in the garrison here... and that is a long time. 38 A GALLIC GIRL. It was a year ago ! The first time that Uncle Marc brought him to dinner he sat next to me. I wore short dresses then. He talked to me all the time of rallye-papers and hunting. . . What a sleepy dinner that was for me ! - Darling said Mme. de Launay in a tone of reproach why do you talk thus. She looked surprised: Oh, Aunt Ma- thilde, are you so correct as all that? - You are not precise enough. Your mother is right in saying that you have manners of a boy, and talk like the chil- dren of the street. . . "Well, they were the only ones whom it amused me to listen to when I was a little girl. You understand... - Yes, yes, I understand, but do not talk so much, and eat your beef which will be cold. - It will be good, anyway. There's a thing that we never eat at the house. Your mother does not like it, I think. It isn't that she does not like it... but she says that it is a commonplace dish... A GALLIC GIRL. 39 and everything that is commonplace, let it be a dish or anything else. . . - Yes... all right... eat! - Meanwhile, you have not told me what to do. To do what? - Well, with M. d'Aubieres... - But my dear child said Uncle Albert - in such cases you can take advice from nobody but yourself. M. d'Aubieres suits your mother... it is your own concern to know if he pleases you. He pleases me... he pleases me... cer- tainly. . . until now. . . but I never looked at him from this point of view, and I think that if I looked at him in that way. . . Aunt Mathilde insisted : - You must see him again... see him often. . . it is easy for you, since he comes often at your house... then you will study him... and when you shall have studied him... - What shall I do then? - Then you will know what you are to answer. . . 40 A GALLIC GIRL. -Then I will answer, "Zut! "... - Zut? Darling laughed. - Oh, how odd it is, Aunt Mathilde, to hear you say Zut. . . You don't put any in- tention in it. - No intention? - No ! . . . Zut ! ! ! is a word which means, "go and chase yourself! " or something like that. So you have to hurl it more de- liberately, you understand? - You can think that at my age I am not going to learn how to say Zut... - You could say it pretty well ! Ordi- narily you are not at all prudish, Aunt Ma- thilde, and sometimes use expressions that are quite worth Zut. - 1 am wrong in doing it. - Never ! It is in those moments that I love you the most, and what pleases me in M. d'Aubieres is that he never poses, and I am sure that my manner of talking never shocks him. And asked M. de Launay--what is, on the subject of this marriage, the opin- A GALLIC GIRL. 41 ion of your father and of your uncle? -Father does not say much. He con- tents himself with praising M. d' Aubieres. Uncle Marc tells me to consult myself. I heard them talking, however, when they thought that I was not listening, because I was crying in a corner. In unison the two old people asked anx- iously : - You were crying? - Put yourselves in my place. If you think it is funny ! Anyway it was not for that, that I was crying - - it was for some- thing else. While they thought I was not listening, they enumerated the people who adore each other in spite of twenty or twenty-five years of difference in their ages - - Did they speak of us? -No. - Well, Darling, I was eighty-one yes- terday, and your aunt was only sixty... - All the same, you seem to me to be very well as you are said Darling, who took her uncle's arm to go into the parlor. 42 A GALLIC GIRL. - I asked for the carriage at half-past eight said Mme. de Launay - - I will get ready. - The carriage? In this weather? For three hundred yards? And, illuminated : - It is not one of your ideas. I would bet that it wasn't your idea. - In fact it was your mother who - - Told you to come in a carriage. . . be- cause you have handsome horses and be- cause, as everybody goes out at the same time, everybody sees them. It is to dazzle M. d'Aubieres... Oh, la, la! Always her airs and her style ! While the Launays were preparing to go out, Darling, seated in an armchair, looked affectionately at the wide parlor where she had formerly played so much. She liked the old Empire furniture with copper sphinx and Utrecht velvet in yellow stripes; the little cabinets concealed in the white wood- work, wherein she kept her playthings; and the beautiful Louis XVI. wainscoting, so intact and so pleasant, with the satyrs A GALLIC GIRL. 43 and the nymphs playing in the woods, whom Claudine, her nurse, defined thus : " Men and women tickling one another on a wall ; " and the old clock with its eagles; and the vases of Sevres, lonesome and charming. There, Darling lived again the good hours of her earlier childhood, and it was with a tone of conviction that she said to her old friends when they called her : Oh, it is good to be here ! When she arrived at the Bray mansion, she climbed in haste the stairway, before her uncle and aunt, shouting at them : - You will say that I am coming ! I have to dress ! I'll be blown up if I go in as I am ! I am going to introduce myself into my old pink gown ! Ill When she entered the well-lighted parlor, Coryse stopped, examining under her half shut eyelids, in a gesture familiar to short- sighted people, the visitors, who were talk- ing, seated in a large circle. She hesitated an instant, asking herself whom she should first salute. Then she walked toward an old, silent woman, with fine effaced profile, and bent her body in a movement which was certainly very respectful when one con- siders her habitual attitude. The Comtesse de Jarville was agreeable to Coryse for several reasons. She found in her a grand air in spite of her modest atti- tude, and believed that she was intelligent and good. Then, Mme. de Bray hated this A GALLIC GIRL. 45 old woman, a distant relative of her hus- band, who saddened her drawing-room with her faded gowns and her aspect of an old pale portrait. This hatred alone would have sufficed to make her sympathetic to Darling. - Corysande said the marquise briefly - come and say good-night to Mme. de Bassigny ! Mme. de Bassigny was the wife of a colonel, and Darling's bete noire. A woman very wealthy and ever posing, who found pleasure in vexing and humiliating all the military families of Pont-sur-Sarthe, and in causing to be punished the bachelor officers who neglected her receptions. The girl turned round and replied with an indifference almost impertinent : - In a moment... when I shall have bowed to Mme. de Jarville. . . The marquise glanced at her daughter furiously, while M. d'Aubieres rested on the child his good blue eyes filled with ad- miration and contentment. He, too, detested the wife of his colleague, 46 A GALLIC GIKL. and he was charmed by the lack of defer- ence expressed so deliberately. That thin woman who had, he said, bird bills at her elbows and a fishbone in the back bad as the itch, talkative as a poll parrot and gossipy as a janitor ; who calum- niated the pretty women and made fun of those who were poor and homely, was held by him in horror. Too frank to conceal his repulsion, M. d'Aubieres had been with her simply polite. Mme. de Bassigny, desirous of attracting to her receptions this bachelor who wore a great name, had been at first infinitely amia- ble. She tried to have the most elegant and the best frequented drawing-room of Pont-sur-Sarthe, and she understood at once that the presence of the Due d'Au- bieres was indispensable for that drawing- room's supremacy. A duke is a sort of personage in almost all circles, but in a provincial town he is a great personage. At the arrival of Col. d'Aubieres people said, ' ' He is probably a duke created by the Empire," and he was regarded with A GALLIC GIRL. 47 curiosity. But when people learned that the title of d'Aubieres dated from the time before the revision of 1667, curiosity was transformed into admiration. And as, with his little fortune, the Due d'Aubieres made a good enough appearance ; as he had hand- some horses, a well-kept phaeton and a little house for himself full of bric-a-brac, in the new district near the railway station, he became the target of mothers, of widows, and of women of the half -world of Pont-sur- Sarthe. However, in spite of all the amiabilities of Col. and Mme. de Bassigny, he remained ceremonious and reserved, contenting him- self with being polite and nothing more. More fortunate than her friend, Mme. de Bray had the joy to present the Due d'Au- bieres at one of her receptions. He was an intimate friend of her brother-in-law, Marc, who presented him. And whereas all the prettiest women - including Mme. de Bray - - paid court to him, the Duke saw only the little girl, lithe and strong, dreamy and playful, who 48 A GALLIC GIRL. laughed with him, confident, affectionate, paying not the slightest attention to the stylish young men who ornamented her mother's parlor. He divined a portion of the little miseries that troubled the life of Darling, and learned of the rest from Uncle Marc. Unconsciously, he fell softly, at 43 years of age, in love with this child of fif- teen, who laughed at him with all her teeth. When M. d'Aubieres realized what was happening in his heart, he thought : " I am crazy." Then by dint of dreaming of this mar- riage, which at first had seemed to him im- possible, he said to himself : " Why not?" But Darling obstinately avoided looking at him. After summarily saluting Mme. de Bassigny, she talked with a little young man, the Vicomte de Barfleur, a descendant of the most ancient family of the country. And, although this conversation seemed, from Coryse's air, to be totally destitute of interest, M. d'Aubieres, impatient at seeing her preoccupied by somebody, began to hate the innocent dude. A GALLIC GIRL. 49 Suddenly, a tall young girl, very beauti- ful, Genevieve de Lussy, a cousin of the Avesnes, exclaimed : - Darling ! Why did you not come to the lecture? - What? asked Mme. de Bray, stu- pefied. What? She did not go to the lecture ? Coryse blushed, abandoned little Barfleur and went to her mother saying : - No, I did not go to the lecture, I re- mained in the garden. She turned toward M. de Bray and added : - The weather was so fine ! - And where did you go? She replied : I have just told you. . . I stayed in the garden. - Doing nothing ! ]S T o... - What did you do? - I looked at the flowers. - That's what I said ! And, with an important air, as if 50 A GALLIC G1KL. she had to superintend her daughter's studies : - What was the subject of the lecture, Genevieve? - The lecture ? said the young girl who tried for a moment to remember - - We studied the reproduction... and, in the midst of an astonished silence, she said : - The reproduction of Phanerogamic plants. Uncle Marc shrugged his shoulders, mut- tering in a low voice : - Darling is right to study flowers in the garden. There is no harm in that ! As for the marquise, who was totally ignorant of plants, phanerogamic and other- wise, and who had not understood a single word, she said in a protective tone : - You understand, Coryse? The girl made no reply. Genevieve said : Tuesday, it will be " Britannicus. " - I will go exclaimed Darling I like Racine so much ! Little Barfleur knew that a man in society must always place a word in every conver- A GALLIC GIRL. 51 sation, on any subject. He asked with an indifferent air : - Why do you like Racine so much, Mademoiselle? - I don't know said Darling, indiffer- ently. Then, after a moment of reflection, she declared : - Perhaps because they tried to make me like Corneille... Marc de Bray laughed ; his sister-in-law furiously turned towards him : One would think that you were trying to make her still more unbearable and ridi- culous ! - Me ! said Uncle Marc, astounded. - Yes, you ! You laugh at everything she says. You look as if you thought her funny ! She would have continued, raising her voice in the silence. Impatiently, Darling, with brilliant eyes and her nose in the air, as in her battle days, proposed : - Supposing you talk as you were talk- ing before, without troubling about me? 52 A GALLIC GIRL. One of the doors of the parlor opened on the garden. Without waiting to judge of the effect produced by her proposition, she went out and down the stoop, where Gri- bouille was waiting for her. Gribouille was an enormous dog, short and strong, good, with a ferocious air. The night was clear, without moonlight, one of those nights full of humidity and of perfumes that Coryse liked. Followed by Gribouille she walked toward the ex- treme end of the garden. The intense odor of white petunias attracted her. And when she was near the long basket which seemed pale in the middle of the dark lawn, she bent over it with a great desire to roll on the perfumed flowers. But she thought : - It would hurt them ! For Darling, persuaded that flowers suf- fer, touched them with infinite delicacy. The noise of footsteps in the alley made Gribouille growl ; and at once she guessed that it was M. d'Aubieres who was ap- proaching in the darkness. He asked, A GALLIC GIRL. 53 vaguely discerning the clear spot that Darling's gown made on the lawn : - Is it you? -Yes, sir. In a hesitating voice, he said : Will you permit me to talk with you an instant? % - Yes. Has... has anybody told you... that. . She pitied his embarrassment. Yes... I know that you have asked to-day to marry me. He murmured, Well. Well ! I did not expect this, as you may well think!... And... it surprises me a little... and even a great deal, if you wish me to tell the truth... Why. . . you have not guessed that I have loved you for a long time? She replied, sincerely : Oh, as for that, no, certainly! Yet it is very true !... I loved you ever since I knew you. . . That is extravagant ! 1 am quite cer- 54 A GALLIC GIRL. tain that the first day we met, I could not have made an agreeable impression upon you. Oh, no ! - The first day? - Yes. . . at dinner. . . the evening that I sat by you... how I must have appeared silly to you ! It must be said that you bored me terribly with your hunting and your rallye-papers, and the rest. . . - But - - muttered the poor man in sur- prise - - I did not know what to say to you... and I... - Be assured that I am grateful to you for not talking to me about the army... You could have done that ! - How you make fun of me ! . . . You think that I am ridiculous... annoying? She protested vivaciously : - Oh, no, not at all, never ! And I even like you a great deal... I am always very glad to see you... Joyously, he asked : - Well, then? - When I see you... accidentally... but if it were always, always, all the time... A GALLIC GIRL. 55 - Then you do not want me? Darling had the desire to reply to this clear question, clearly, no ! Thus at least, all would be finished; the subject would never be recalled again. But she divined so much anxiety in the poor strangled voice that questioned her, so much supplication in the tall silhouette bent towards her, that she did not have the courage to cause grief to the friend who seemed to love her so much. Gently she replied : - No... I do not say that... I am much flattered by your affection... I am very grateful... but I am so much a little girl... I have thought so little of serious things. . . let me think, will you? Do not ask me to say at once yes or no. . . because then. . . I will say no. - I will wait for your decision. . . but let me plead my cause a little. And seeing that Coryse was turning to- ward the house, he made her retrace her steps by taking her arm softly. - Please, please give me a few minutes more... it is your mother who told me to come and meet you here. 56 A GALLIC GIRL. With conviction, Darling exclaimed : Oh, I knew it ! And to herself she added : - She can't leave me alone ! With his beautiful, grave voice, M. d' Aubieres said : - I appear old to you... but I offer to you a heart which is young, a heart which never belonged to anybody... - Oh ! said Coryse, with a frightened air you haven't arrived at your age with- out loving somebody. He replied, gravely : Love. . . what I understand by love. . . never ! - And what do you understand by love? - To give my heart and my life... - Well, is not that always what people call love? Always... no... it depends muttered M. d' Aubieres, with embarrassment. Really said Darling, brusquely I might as well tell you that I do not be- lieve you... not at all ! You do not believe me ! Why? A GALLIC GIRL. 57 - Oh, there's the question ! It is not easy to tell you. Well, one day, in the spring, I had gone out on horseback, with Uncle Marc. We were in the Crisville for- est, and I saw you at a distance... with a lady... I recognized you at once. Nobody is as tall as you are at Pont-sur-Sarthe. . You were walking... and a carriage was following you... One of the ridiculous little cabs of the Square station... The lady... was one of the ladies about whom nobody ever speaks... except mother and Mme. de Bassigny , who call them ' ' donzelles, ' ' and who make great strides in the streets or at the circus when they have to pass by them. You would think that they burn one. I ask your pardon for saying this about a person whom you love. - I - - protested the Due, half laughing, half despairing. - Or whom you loved, at least. . . Imperturbably, Darling continued: - So I said to Uncle Marc : " Hello, M. d'Aubieres... with the lady about whom one must not speak ! " Oh, I had forgotten to A GALLIC GIRL. tell you... Paul de Lussy, Genevieve's brother, the one who is studying law... you know. . . he had done a lot of silly things on account of this lady. . . and they wanted to make him enlist in the army. Then Georg- ette Guibray, your General's daughter, had pointed her out one day at the park to Genevieve, had pointed out the lady... say- ing : " You see, it's because of this woman that your brother is doing a lot of silly things. ' ' Genevieve had pointed her out to me also, and at breakfast I had asked for explanations from papa. . . Oh, Lord ! what an affair ! . . . I can see the scene now. . . My mother rose, making gestures at me with her napkin, calling me i i a shameless girl ! ' I was blue. . . I did not at all understand what could have been the matter! Then, after breakfast, papa took me to the smoking- room, and said that I must never talk of such things... especially before mother... and that, anyway, one must be ignorant of the world of such women. . . which is a world all by itself... and at night, the thing began again with mother, when I was going to A GALLIC GIRL. 59 bed ! ... It's one of the finest scoldings that I can remember... but perhaps it bothers you that I tell you this? - No... I would only like to explain to you... - Wait till I finish... So I said to Uncle Marc: "Here is M. d^Aubieres with the lady about whom one must not talk," and he replied : " You do not know what you are saying ! You are as shortsighted as a mole and you cannot distinguish anything from here..." So I offered him to trot to where you were... but he wouldn't, and the first alley that we found. . . crac ! he pushed me in it so that I couldn't look at the road... and that is all for that occasion. -I will... - It isn't all... a month later, I was with old Jean... I saw you again with the same lady and almost at the same place. . . Oh, I said to myself, this time as I am not like my mother and Mme. de Bassigny, and not afraid to get burned, I will go near them... and I trotted. "Mademoiselle Coryse," said Jean to me, ' ' the road is becoming ter- 60 A GALLIC GIRL. ribly thick, the horses will fall on their noses certainly... I think it would be better to return to the road by which we came..." I didn't listen to him, you can think... but, at that moment you went into the ridiculous cab on the road to Crisville. I said to Jean : ' ' I want to see where they are going, ' ' and he replied : i ' That, Mademoiselle, is one of the things which one should not do ! " - And afterward? Afterward, I lost sight of you. . . but I found you again all the same... at the Cris- ville inn. Your cab was eating oats and you were at the first story at a window. . . with the lady... So I thought... - You thought? - Since M. d'Aubieres is hiding in the forest and in inns with a woman whom he does not want anybody to see him with, the reason is that he wants absolutely to see her in spite of everything... and if he wants to see her in spite of everything, it's because he loves her, as Paul de Lussy loved her. . . and even more... for to run such risks, a Colonel, a serious and aged man... A GALLIC GIRL. 61 And as the Duke made a motion : Yes, in comparison with Paul, who is only 22, you are aged, are you not?... Well, to do what in Paul was considered silly, one must. . . - One must feel terribly lonesome at Pont-sur-Sarthe... and jseek for recreation in any world. I cannot explain to you what you must not understand, but I can affirm that whatever you may have seen or learned of my stupid life, I am worthy of loving you and of being your husband... Never, until the day when I made your acquaintance have I had the idea to give my name and my heart to anybody, and I offer to you, in spite of my ' ' great age, ' ' a love that is very young and very pure... Pressing the little arm which he had kept under his own, he murmured : - Let me hope a little, I pray you ? - If I do not reply yes at once said Coryse frankly the reason is that I wish to marry only a man that I will love, or that I feel that I will love more than all the others. I detest society. I have a horror of grimaces 62 A GALLIC GIRL. and garlands ! I have until now loved really only Uncle and Aunt de Launay, papa, Uncle Marc, old Jean, my nurse, Gri- bouille and my flowers. I want to love my husband, if not with the love that I do not know, at least very tenderly, very surely... M. d' Aubieres had stopped. He took the hands of the child, and holding them to his lips, said: - I would be so horribly miserable if I had to renounce the hope to have you... He drew her to him, and she let herself go, moved by that voice which trembled, by all that tenderness which she felt was so true. - Darling he murmured, -- my little Darling ! She leaned on his shoulder, dreaming, asking herself if she could not one day love this man who loved her so much, and who seemed to be so good. But M. d' Aubieres, troubled by the con- tact of the supple little body, which let itself go, so trustfully; enervated by the obscurity, intoxicated by the perfumes A GALLIC GIRL. 63 which came from the flowers at that hour of night, lost his head completely. With a brutal movement, he embraced Coryse with his arms, covering with mad kisses her hair and her forehead. The little girl disen- gaged herself violently, almost with horror, and as the Duke returned to his senses, murmured in desolation at what he had done: - Forgive me... I love you so much ! She replied simply, already recovered from her fright, which in her innocence she could not explain to herself : I too beg your pardon. . . but, you see, I cannot endure to be kissed. . IV. - Did you see Darling this morning? asked M. de Bray of the marquise, as she entered before breakfast in the library where he was talking with his brother. - No... did you? - 1 met her at nine, in Benedictine Street... said Uncle Marc... She was run- ning, followed by old Jean. The marquise exclaimed, in anger: - What ! . . . she went out. . . without my permission? - She was probably going to church... insinuated M. de Bray in a conciliatory manner. A GALLIC GIRL. 65 To church ! She never goes. . . except Sunday. Marc, standing before the window, an- nounced : There she is. . . in the yard with Luce. "Luce" was the Baronne de Givry, M. de Bray's cousin. She came into the li- brary, followed by Darling, who walked with an indifferent air. Without even saying "Good morning" to the young woman, the marquise threaten- ingly demanded with the heady and acute voice which always made Coryse half close her eyelids : Where do you come from ? From Saint- Marcien answered the young girl. You who never go to church? 0, I didn't go to the mass. - Then why did you go? To see the Abbe Chatel. -Why? Because I had something to say to him. Ah ! said Mme. de Bray, anxiously and what did he answer? 66 A GALLIC GIKL. Before saying what he answered, I should perhaps say what I asked ? And laughingly she added : - It would take too long. The marquis addressed Mme. de Givry : - Then you did not meet at the Abbe Chatel's confessional... - No, replied the young woman, with some embarrassment the Abbe Chatel is not my confessor. - Oh said the marquise in astonish- ment is it possible? You never lifted your finger without asking him how high you could hold it. You talk of him con- stantly... too much, in fact. What has happened ? Luce de Givry, a tall woman of twenty- eight, bony and dark, destitute of all grace, was celebrated at Pont-sur-Sarthe for her austere piety, narrow and fatiguing. Toler- ant, that is, never caring for what others do or do not who do not think and live as she does, agitated, she was full of good deeds and of love of society. Marc de Bray said that society was ungrateful to her. She A GALLIC GIKL. 67 was not disagreeable or unintelligent, but she was unpleasant for some of her ridicu- lous manners and also for her absolute lack of youth and of charm. Women were em- barrassed by her rigid and very real virtue ; men did not forgive her for her lack of grace, and Luce was appreciated only by her relatives, who liked her for her fine qualities and her naive kindness. - Tell us what you have just said to Pierre? asked Uncle Marc, playing sur- prise. Docilely Mme. de Givry repeated : - I do not confess to him now. - Are you at odds? -We are not at odds... he is the one who refuses my confession. - Since when? asked Darling, also surprised. - Since my ball... the ball that I gave at the time of the race meeting. - Why should he have cared for your ball ? said Marc. - - Is he stupid enough to care for such matters? Oh protested Luce, vivaciously 68 A GALLIC GIRL. it isn't the poor abbe's fault. It is mine. I went to him for his permission. . . - Well? - Well, he answered : - "My child, these things do not con- cern me at all ! " - He is a man of sense... - I insisted, but he would not listen to me. He said: "Do not come to me, a priest, for permission to give at your house a reception that the Church does not ap- prove. I cannot encourage it." But my husband wants me to give this ball. ' i Well, then, give the ball and then you will come to tell me that you gave it, and then we shall arrange matters. ' ' I will not give a ball with- out your permission. " In truth, my child, you place me in a very ridiculous position." - He was right, the poor man ! said Marc, laughingly. - He is an old fogy ! declared the marquise, who admired no other priests than the Jesuits. Coryse objected, because she liked the old abbe. A GALLIC GIRL. 69 - An old fogy !. . . Not on your life ! But it isn't his trade to excite the people of Pont-sur-Sarthe to dance jigs, is it? And turning toward Mme. de Givry : - Only, Luce, there is something in all this which I cannot understand. You are constantly at balls. You do nothing else. I thought that you had permission. - I have. -Well, then? -It's exactly what I said to the Abbe Chatel. "But since you permit me to go to balls?" and he answered: " My child, this is another question. . . a ball is a place where one is more exposed to the danger of sinning than many other places." - Ah ! said Darling, pensively. - " So, when you give a ball, you en- courage, you facilitate in a fashion, the committing of sins. Therefore, you are in a certain measure an accomplice. When, on the contrary, you go to balls, I give you the authority to go, in all security, because I am certain that not only you do not sin but you cannot be for anybody an occasion for 70 A GALLIC GIRL. sinning. ' ' It makes you laugh ? continued Mme. de Givry, turning toward Marc, who was convulsed with laughter in his arm- chair, but I was struck with consternation ! All the invitations had been sent. I went home and told Hubert and Mother that we were not to give a ball, because Abbe Chatel had refused his permission. - They must have made fine faces said Coryse, who was laughing. - You may be sure. Mother said that I was crazy to talk of it to the Abbe. Hubert was furious. He said : "Well, we will not give a ball... but as we are not in mourning for the present, we shall not receive courte- sies without returning them ; we shall not go anywhere. I do not care, because I execrate society... But you? " I was in despair, but God took pity on me. He inspired me with the thought of calling on good Father Ragon. - Oh ! -- said Coryse, making a face. And Father Ragon was charming. He said when I related to him Abbe Chatel' s prohibition. . . A GALLIC GIRL. 71 - Now it's a prohibition said Darling. - When I explained to him why I came to consult him, he replied: "What does the gospel say, my child? The gospel says that the wife owes obedience to her hus- band. Your husband wishes you to give a ball... give a ball... Coryse protested. -What an idea, to make God meddle with these things! Isn't it ridiculous to discuss such things over His back?... - 1 was much pleased said Mme. de Givry-- I ran at once to Abbe Chatel and told him that I had permission from Father Ragon. He asked: " Then, my child, you are satisfied with Father Ragon?" I did not dare to fall in ecstacies over Father Ragon. . . I was afraid to hurt Abbe Chatel' s feelings... I only said " yes," because I did not wish to tell an untruth. Then he said : " Then return to him. I shall be charmed. I never knew anybody more bothersome to confess than you are." He said "bother- some," would you believe it? He must have learned the word from 72 A GALLIC GIRL. me exclaimed Coryse laughingly. The poor Abbe is so good and so droll ! - You know, Luce advised Marc de Bray you would do well not to tell this story to anybody else... - Why ? asked Mme. de Givry ingenu- ously. - Because it makes you ridiculous. . . and the Abbe too he added, thinking that the fear of harming her old confessor would make the young woman hush much more effectively than the fear of harming herself. The marquise exclaimed : - The Abbe Chatelisaman of the people. He understands nothing, he has no deli- cacy, no appreciation of mundane things... and, naturally, Coryse selected him for her confessor. - The Abbe Chatel is not my confessor - replied Darling at least he has ceased to be. - Since when? - Since three or four years... since no- body cares for what I do, and I go out alone with Jean... since my first communion. A GALLIC GIRL. 73 - Ah! -- said Mme. de Bray, astounded at realizing that she knew so little of her daughter's doings and yet you are contin- ually at his house. Why do you go, if he is not your confessor? - He is my confidant, I like him a great deal. . . I believe that he is safe and straight. . . and I tell him my little affairs... those that I think I should relate. - Then asked the marquise with vex- ation to whom do you confess at present? - To nobody. . . And as her mother expressed indignation : Or to everybody. I go now to one, then to another. . . to the cathedral, to the new chapel, to other churches... I go in all the parishes. . . and as there are three priests in every parish, I have a margin ! I go to con- fession about six times a year. Thus the list of confessors will last long. - This little girl is crazy. . . absolutely crazy ! - - said the marquise with her dolor- ous air she goes from right to left and from left to right instead of selecting an in- telligent director. 74 A GALLIC GIRL. - " A director! ' : well, that is exactly what I do not want declared Darling -- I do what I think I ought to do, but I do it as I wish. It is prescribed that I should confess, but it is not ordained that I should initiate into my life, accustom to my thoughts and to my faults, somebody who knows me and meets me out of the church ! These exterior and divine relations mixed... like a salad... are odious to me. I think they are grotesque and repugnant. . . - What an absurdity ! said the mar- quise then, one should not consult the same physician twice, and fear to meet him except when he calls professionally. - That is a different thing. - On the contrary, it is exactly the same thing. To one you show your soul, to the other your body... that's worse ! - "Well. . . if I had to show one or the other, I would rather show my body than my soul - Hush! exclaimed Mme. de Bray, ris- ing and extending one of her arms in a ges- ture learned from one of the dramas which A GALLIC GIRL. 75 she particularly liked -- Hush... you are a horrible creature ! . . . a girl without shame ! Coryse replied calmly : - That is to say that I have a different idea of shame... no... it's funny! ... I can never use that word ! I have another way of judging modesty, probably... - Hush !... I adjure you to hush. - ' ' Adjure ' ' having evoked a sarcastic smile on the frank face of Uncle Marc, his sister-in-law's anger turned against him. -I advise you to laugh... it becomes you ! You are responsible for the tone and the manners of Corysande ! And as, following his usual custom, Marc de Bray answered not a word, the marquise became angrier : - Yes... you can say u no " as much as you please... you are the cause that I can obtain nothing from that child. I know very well that she has a bad temper, but... - I will let you take your breakfast- said Mme. de Grivry, hastening to depart before the scene which she foresaw. And timidly, half turning toward Coryse 76 A GALLIC GIRL. whom, in her terror of Mme. de Bray, she did not dare to address directly, she added softly : - I am very sorry. . . it is my fault. I talked of the Abbe Chatel, and that is how the rest has come. - Pshaw ! - - replied Darling imperti- nently, looking at her mother - - the rest conies always ! You are not necessary for that ! She was going out, following her cousin, but the marquise called her angrily : - Stay here ! I want to talk to you. Without a word, Darling took her seat. Well asked Mme. de Bray -- what reply shall we make to the Due d'Aubieres? - None, I will reply to him myself, said the girl quietly. - I am your mother, and I have the right, I suppose, to know what that reply is ? - Perfectly... I cannot marry M. d'Au- bieres. . . and I am sorry, because I like him infinitely. - But it's madness ! But you will never find again a similar situation ! A GALLIC GIRL. 77 I repeat that it would be wrong of me to say yes against my will. I have reflected a great deal. I am absolutely decided. - I suppose the Abbe Chatel prompted you? - The Abbe Chatel approves, but he has not prompted. . . on the contrary he advised that I should wait a little before deciding. . . until I told him. . The marquise was not listening to her daughter. Suddenly she became pathetic and tender : - Corysande, my dear child, I have only you in the world, you are my only love, my only joy. I have lived only for you. Since the day that you were born, I have had no other preoccupation than you ! Accustomed as she was to the lyrical explosions of her mother, Darling always felt a vague surprise in presence of her for- midable audacity which seemed comical. She listened, her lips apart, her eyes shin- ing, her temples beating with a premonition of laughter. She lowered her eyes, fearing 78 A GALLIC GIRL. to explode if she saw the expression of the Marquis and the air of Uncle Marc, and replied nothing. The marquise began : - You have always been profoundly un- grateful, I know... and I will not attempt to change you... I cannot hope that you will do anything for me or for anybody else. . . but it is in your own interests that I pray you to reflect... not to take this de- cision at random. - I have not taken it at random said Darling, gravely. -You take it without consulting any- body. - Yes... and all those whom I have con- sulted reply that I must take counsel only from myself. The marquise joined her hands, and in a tragic tone : - I conjure you for the last time to wait before replying. . . to see enlightened people. And, in an indifferent tone : Father Ragon, for instance ! There we have it said Coryse, half A GALLIC GIRL. 79 laughingly, half sorrowfully - - you think that he will invent a subtle combination. . . as for Luce's ball? - Shall I drag myself on my knees be- fore you? - No, thank you, I would rather not. It is of no use to make so much of this. I will see Father Ragon whenever you wish. It is indifferent to me. Only it was much easier for him to arrange Luce's affairs than it could be for him to arrange mine. - Promise me that you will go to-day to see Father Ragon. - I promise. - And that you will listen to his advice. - I will listen... but this does not signify that I will obey. - What did you say to him last night? - To whom? - To M. d'Aubieres. -I told him the truth... that I liked him a great deal... but not to marry him... still, I would think... What did he say? 80 A GALLIC GIRL. - He kissed me... and how disagreeable it was ! - Because it was the first time. . . and it intimidated you a little. . . - It did not intimidate me at all ! It produced a fearful effect upon me, that is all. . . and the proof that it did not intimi- date me is that I dared to tell him the effect that it produced, so... - Oh, you told him... - Poor Aubieres murmured Uncle Marc, laughing. A servant announced that breakfast was served. Immediately after breakfast, while Coryse was serving the coffee, furtively Mme. de Bray went out of the library. - Ah ! -- said the child she is going to post Father Ragon ... it's very useless. Firstly, I have a horror of Father Ragon... with his goodish air and his smiles, which are like those of an old coquette, trying to hide her black teeth. Always good-natured, the marquis ad- vised : A GALLIC GIRL. 81 You should not hold people in horror without knowing why. - But I know why ! - And the reason is? Because I have no esteem for him. Uncle Marc and M. de Bray laughed. The way in which Darling declared that she had no esteem for this man, who was in- telligent and powerful, and who led all the women and most of the men of Pont-sur- Sarthe, seemed comical to them. The girl blushed. - You make fun of me she said I can see it. " Esteem " is ridiculous... but I know no other word to express what I think. M. de Bray protested : No, my little Darling, nobody makes fun of you. Tell us what Abbe Chatel said... - I told him last night's aifair. The marriage affair? No... M. d'Aubi&res's kiss. - Oh! very well... I did not know that you call that an affair. Oh, it is important for me ! At the 82 A GALLIC GIRL. moment when M. d'Aubieres did that thing I was on the point of saying yes... A little more and it would have been all right. - But why did you not say yes? - Because, I tell you, it was horrible ! To think that a woman is obliged to let her husband kiss her whenever he wishes. I cannot take this decision with that perspec- tive... no, I cannot! - And is that what you said to the Abbe?-- asked Marc, who was enjoying himself a great deal. Yes. - And how did you say it to him? -I said: "M. 1'Abbe, M. d'Aubieres wants to marry me... at the house, they want me to say yes... " - Allow me interrupted M. de Bray - I have never wished that. . . - He understood very well that it wasn't you. When I say "they" he knows very well whom I am talking of. I asked him what he advised me to do, and he answered : 4 ' My dear little girl, since your parents wish that this marriage shall occur, you have A GALLIC GIRL. 83 only to consult your heart and your reason... they will teach you much better than I can what you must answer. ' ' I said : "My reason answers yes, and my heart al- most... but... M. d'Aubieres kissed me under the trees... in the garden... last night." And then, I tried to explain in the best way that I could the effect that it had on me. . . but he interrupted me at once, the Abbe Chatel... "That is enough, my child... that is enough... I don't want to know any more... " Why are you laughing, Uncle Marc? - Because you are grotesque with your re- lations to the unfortunate Abbe, who was not at all made to listen to that sort of thing ! - On the contrary, he was there for that very purpose. I was anxious to explain to him the odd sort of phenomenon which oc- curred in me at that moment. - Oh, you were anxious to explain to him... - Yes... I told him that I had never felt that... even on New Year's day when I have to kiss pretty disgusting people. 84 A GALLIC GIRL. And why did you tell Abbe Chatel that you kissed disgustirg people on 'New Year's day? asked M. de Bray, in aston- ishment. - Because it is true... Mme. de Clair- ville always kisses me through her wet veil. And cousin La Balue?... do you think that he is savory?... He has no wet veil, but he slobbers all over you... it's the same thing. Well, I think I like that better than I did M. d'Aubieres last night... - You are not serious. - Not serious? Well, if you think I am playing, you are very much mistaken. And she asked suddenly : - What time is it? - Two o'clock. - What... already? Then I have to rush, since I have promised to call on Father Kagon. - You have plenty of time. He never goes to his confessional before four o'clock. - I am not going to his confessional. I will ask for him at the parlor. I would have to wait too long at the confessional. Znt ! A GALLIC GIRL. 85 She slid out of the library, and her clear voice was heard exclaiming to Jean to ac- company her. Become serious, Uncle Marc affirmed : Whether Darling marries Aubieres or another. . . the moment she quits us we shall miss her terribly. V. When Darling reached the house of the Jesuits, it was about three o'clock. A cloud darkened the sky and made the air stilling. Stay in the garden if you wish she said to old Jean, who came behind her in the parlor, looking around him with a dis- trustful air it will be more amusing for you. He replied, hesitatingly : And if it should rain? -Well, if it rains, you can come in again. What makes you walk in this way? One would think you were afraid to fall in a trap. I am not afraid, but I do not feel at ease here, Miss Coryse... It seems to me A GALLIC GIRL. 87 that the walls are listening and it makes me cold, and then... this blessed floor... - There you are... swear a little... it will produce a good effect on the household.. Now I am sliding. . . now there are carpets ! - Well, you musn't skate with the car- pets ! And, pushing out of doors the old servant who was embarrassed by the shining floor and the little squares of carpet in the room, she said laughingly : Go away ! You might end by commit- ting a crime. As soon as he was out, Darling walked up and down the parlor, which she saw for the iirst time. She knew of the new house that the Jesuits at Pont-sur-Sarthe had built, only the chapel where she came in spite of herself with her mother. Mme. de Bray esteemed rightfully that the Jesuits are not only people that it is good for one to see, but also people with whom it is good to be seen. All the stylish society went to their ' ' Sa- lutes," where sang men and women of soci- 88 A GALLIC GIRL. ety who had pretty voices, and the tribune of the chapel of the Fathers had been a hot- house of marriages and flirtations. Coryse, at first discontented with these meetings, which she thought profane, had little by little become interested in the little intrigues which passed under her eyes. She knew all the little religious or mundane rivalries. She knew that one Father was envied by the other Fathers ; and also that such and such a penitent, elegant or well situated, had her entrances at any hour in the confessionals, open only at regular hours for more modest penitents. And while waiting for Father Ragon the most popular of the mundane priests Dar- ling compared the vast house built with English comfort under an amiable severity, with the sad and dirty house where were piled up humbly the Cure of the Cathedral and his three vicars. She said to herself that if the society people of Pont-sur-Sarthe knew the way to one of the churches, the poor knew better the way to the other. It seemed to her that the big sums brought by A GALLIC GIRL. inheritance, gifts and collections stayed where they went, while the little sums that came with much trouble did nothing but go through the poor little gray house. . . Darling had an instinctive hatred for those who "amass." The word "saving" which she heard around her, pronounced with the respect that it inspires in the pro- vincials, appeared to her hateful and repug- nant, and the thought came to her mind that in this beautiful house, all new, they saved a great deal and gave very little to the poor. She looked at the windows open in the white walls, and they recalled to her bank windows. And the Jesuits who, from time to time, quickly slid along the room, resembled, she thought, clerks more than monks. In this convent, everything recalled the world to her, nothing talked of God to her. After a time, Coryse became impatient : - If he thinks that he is to make me pose like this forever ! I have to go to the lecture. She went to the window and saw, in the 90 A GALLIC GIRL. large garden, Jean asleep on a bench. At first correctly seated, stiff as formerly on his coachman's box, the old servant little by little lengthened his legs and bent his head. And the Fathers who, from time to time, passed into the chapel, turned with surprise their delicate faces toward the old man who slept on a bench in the pose of a drunkard. Their mute indignation amused the girl infinitely, and she was not at all lonesome when a voice, at once very dry and very soft, made her turn her head. - You are here, my child ; I cannot re- ceive you at present. - Ah ! - - said Darling - I thought mother asked you if I could come. And going to the door she added, amiably, and as if delivered from a weight : - Well, if you cannot, I am going. . . Father Ragon stopped her with a gesture. - I cannot receive you here... - I beg your pardon, it is mother who... - Yes, your mother knows that I receive her sometimes in the parlor... but what I A GALLIC GIRL. 91 can do for her... with great difficulty... I cannot do for yon. . . As the girl said nothing, he continued, with the same clear, white voice : - Your mother said, my child, that you wish to consult me on a very grave ques- tion. - Oh... I wish... that is, it is she who wishes. . . - Well, I will listen to you in a moment in my confessional. - But - - protested Darling I do not come to confess... - It does not matter ! Coryse thought of the prolonged wait in the new chapel, frightfully new, where gold shone; the chapel where one's eye never rested on anything soft and quiet; where one could neither meditate nor pray, and the fear which she felt of this wait sug- gested to her this reflection which, she thought^ might rescue her : 1 will wait in the chapel ! It is not so bothersome ! All these ladies talk so loud.. 92 A GALLIC GIRL. Father Ragon did not care to surrender to the mocking ears of Darling the confi- dences of those whom she called irreverently "holy water frogs," for suddenly he changed his mind, saying as if he had not heard her reflection : - Since you seem to desire it, I will listen to you here. And, changing his voice, in a tone deaf- ened and extinguished : I am listening. . . what have you to say to me. She replied deliberately : - I?... nothing at all!... I thought that you had something to say to me. More accustomed to defense than to attack, Father Ragon hesitated an instant and then said : Your mother said that the Due d'Aubieres had asked your hand in mar- riage and that his demand had been re- ceived by you with disgust. - Yes, you may say that. The Jesuit had never spoken to Darling any other than commonplace phrases to A GALLIC GIRL. 93 which she replied in monosyllables or not at all. This freedom of language surprised him a little. There was a moment of silence. - Well? questioned Coryse simply. - Well replied Father Ragon, whom her interrogations embarrassed a little - this demand which would be flattering to any young girl, is for you not only flatter- ing but unexpected. You have no money. - I know it ! - The Due d'Aubieres, without being wealthy, thinks that he is rich enough for two. He gives, in asking for your hand, a fine example of disinterestedness. - I know that, too, and I am very grate- ful to M. d'Aubieres, whom I like a great deal. - You like him? - With all my heart. Of all those who come to the house, he is the one whom I like best. - Then I do not understand why. . . - What . don't you understand? It seems to me that it is limpid ! I like M. 94 A GALLIC GIRL. d'Aubieres as I like Mme. de Jarville, for instance. . . or the Abbe Chatel. . . I like them to like them, but not to marry them ; great Csesar ! - My child, I know that you do not know what marriage is... - Sure ! But I have an idea of it. One always has an idea of it. One always has an idea of things. Well, when I marry I want to love my husband in another way than I like M. d'Aubieres and the Abbe Chatel. - Yes, you are a little sentimental, as all young girls are. - I ? exclaimed Darling indignantly - not sentimental for two cents ! And reflecting a little, a little troubled in spite of herself, she rectified : - Except perhaps for flowers... and the sky... and rivers. It is true that I like to lie on the earth and dream before all these things. Yes! Let's say that I am senti- mental about things and even about brutes, if you wish, but not for people, oh, no, I am not sentimental. A GALLIC GIRL. 95 Positively stupefied by this mode of speech, Father Ragon asked with a smile of amiable contempt at the corner of his thin lips : - Who brought you up, my dear child? Without showing that she discerned his irony, she replied : - At present, papa and Uncle Marc... before, Uncle and Aunt de Launay. And, as the Jesuit, collecting his thoughts, repeated, "de Launay," Darling added, laughingly : - Oh ! you need not try to remember. . . They never come here... they are not that kind of people... they are good old quiet people and not stylish... And at once she corrected : - They have a grand air, but they are not in the swim. They go to their parish. But I beg your pardon, you said when I in- terrupted you that I was sentimental. - I was saying that young girls are all more or less in love with some sort of an ideal... an ideal which they forge them- selves and never meet anywhere. . . 96 A GALLIC GIRL. - I am in love with no ideal. - That is good. You may then freely consider the beautiful future which will be yours if you marry the Due d'Aubieres. - What beautiful future? I never could bear the idea of marrying a military man. Yes, I have a horror of them. . . I mean the officers... as for the soldiers, it isn't their fault... I pity them... I never meet one without wishing to ask him to come to the house and have a drink. Father Ragon looked at Darling with a frightened air, thinking that Mme. de Bray was right in saying that her daughter was "not like everybody." He continued, ex- aggerating his cold air and his perfect pre- ciseness : - Truly, my child, you talk a singular language. . . Sincerely and gently, Coryse excused her- self. - Yes, I know... it's very true... but I can't prevent it... it's instinctive! I beg your pardon. . . I can understand that it must shock you... it shocks the Abbe Chatel. A GALLIC GIRL. 97 And, looking at him, she continued : - You are a man of society, and I am not. - Well said the Jesuit laughingly, in spite of himself - - are you disposed to re- flect before refusing this marriage, to listen to my advice? - To reflect will be of no use ! Firstly, when I want to reflect, it puts me to sleep ; then, the more I will reflect, the more I will say no. There is no advantage in making me reflect. And as for following your ad- vice... if you wish me to talk frankly... - Yes, talk frankly. - "Well, I do not know why I should fol- low your advice. You don't know me. You have not seen me much ; everything in me is displeasing enough to you to make you yell. And, seeing that the Jesuit sketched a vague gesture of protest : - Yes, yes, I know very well I am dis- pleasing to you, and you have no reason to be interested in me. What you say to me, you say it because mother asked you to say it. 98 A GALLIC GIRL. I say it because it is my opinion. - Have it your way, but it is your way because mother has explained to you that without wealth I cannot marry a good hus- band. So under pretext that I am not rich, you advise me to marry a man whom I will not love as I should love one with whom I would have to spend my life. * - My child, you are mistaken, it is be- cause the Due d'Aubieres is a perfectly honorable man, perfectly good, that I ad- vise you to marry him. I would advise you to do it if you were rich. - Not on your life ! If I were rich, in- stead of asking me to marry M. d'Aubieres, you would reserve me for. . . As she stopped Father Ragon asked : - I would reserve you for whom? - For some former pupil of yours who would be in the dumps... or who would have gambled... or anything else of that sort... yes! That is always the way at Pont-sur-Sarthe. That's why I'm glad I have no money. Oh, you know how to aid those who are yours ! A GALLIC GIRL. 99 Fearing to have talked too much, Dar- ling lifted an eye almost timid on the Jesuit. His beautiful, distinguished and serious face had softened. - Well - - he said, looking at the girl benevolently - - it seems to me that those who stand by their friends must be agree- able to you. . . you must like those who lend their aid to others. - Yes, if it is an individual. . . no, if it is a corporation. Father Ragon was surprised, looking at Darling and saying nothing. Since he had been at Pont-sur-Sarthe this little girl of sixteen was the first thoughtful being he had met. Seeing that the child mistook his silence for a dismissal, he asked : - You have read a great deal ? - Xo... not much. - Then you have thought seriously on serious things? - Sometimes... on horseback. It is es- pecially when I am on horseback that I think about things. Then I cannot go to 100 A GALLIC GIRL. sleep while reflecting. So I reflect, but it is involuntary. - And the result of your reflection is, that you do not like our order? - Your order does not seem to me to be an order. . . a religious order, I mean. 'The Dominicans, the Capuchins and the others. . . are orders. They busy themselves about God, they preach, they do things that religious men should do. You are a sort of an association; you make marriages, dabble in politics, in a little of everything... in fine, you frighten me... and yet, God knows that it takes a great deal to frighten me. - I assure you, my child, that we are working for the good and the salvation of humanity. - Its good... on earth, I am convinced of that. Its salvation... I don't think you are much interested in that, and for you, hu- manity is limited to people in society. - I see that you have decidedly a preju- dice against us. You are wrong, my dear child. A GALLIC GIRL. 101 Oh ! - - Darling said, politely - - not more of a prejudice against you than against the Free-Masons, for instance... or the college boys who continue to haze through life. I hate, in general, people who put themselves together in a mass in order to throw individuals down. to This hatred may lead you very far. - Yery far ! For instance, when I was a little girl, when I went with my nurse on errands and heard the poor little shop- keepers complain... almost cry, while say- ing that since 'the great stores of Benedic- tine street they did no business, when I saw many of the former shops close one by one, when I heard that such and such a man had failed, I was enraged, I can tell you, against these enormous stores that harm the little ones, and very often at night when I said my prayers, I told God with all my strength that He should have a mag- nificent idea if He only destroyed these big stores during the night. . . - But it was an abominable thought. . . Quite likely ! I don't defend it ! I 102 A GALLIC GIRL. had it, that is all ! I did not say these things to Uncle Albert or to Aunt Mathilde, you may well think. With them it wouldn't have gone. Oh, no ! In these days I never told my ideas to anybody. - And I hope you do not now? - Oh, yes, now I say all these things to the Abbe Chatel or to Uncle Marc. - It is true said the Jesuit, with a smile that M. le Yicomte de Bray is a socialist. . . or at least he presented himself as a socialist at the last elections. - No said Darling brusquely, not ad- mitting that anybody should criticise Uncle Marc M. de Bray is what you call a socialist, but he did not rest on that to be elected. He presented himself without a label. . . And he failed. The candidate whom the Fathers pro- tected had been elected. Darling replied angrily : - Yes. . . too much money was needed to be elected ! Then rising, without waiting for the Jes- A GALLIC GIRL. 103 nit's invitation, she added a little mock- ingly : - But I must not detain you longer. You were in a hurry. . . and all these ladies must be stamping their feet in the chapel! Father Ragon rose; and as Coryse yielded precedence to him : - Xo he said smilingly and courte- ously - - You are no longer a little girl, and you will be, soon perhaps, " Mme. la Duchesse. ' ' - It would astonish me said Darling, shaking her hair, which fell in waves to her waist -- I haven't the sort of head neces- sary for that position. Father Ragon asked : I see nobody at the door. . . you did not come alone, did you? Oh, no... I was not brought up in the American fashion. . . I have a maid. . . And showing old Jean who was asleep on the bench : - As a decoration, my maid is not a success. When Darling had passed the gate she 104 A GALLIC GIRL. turned round, looked at the clock of the chapel, and murmured laughingly : Half past five ! Haven't I made the holy water frogs pose ! VI. They were at dinner when Mme. de Bray came into the dining-room. They had renounced all hope of seeing her : she almost never arrived on time; pretexting visits, stopped clocks, and if need be, car- riage accidents. As soon as she was seated she asked, with a surprisingly amiable air, of Coryse : - Well, were you pleased with Father Kagon? - Oh, quite pleased, replied the girl indifferently. And after a moment of reflection she added : 106 A GALLIC GIRL. But I do not know if lie was pleased with me. - What did you say to him asked M. de Bray, vaguely anxious. - A lot of things. . . the conversation turned. . . - I will see him to-morrow morning said the marquise, less amiable and he will tell me what occured. - But remarked Darling, peacefully, - I can as well tell you. In the first place nothing happened... - Ah ! . . . that is surprising. - And why is it surprising? Because you seem embarrassed. - I. . . not at all. . . why should I look em- barrassed? - I don't know. - Nor I either. I was asked to go and talk with Father Ragon. I went, we talked and that's all ! - And nothing disagreeable occurred? - No. He is well brought up. . . too well ! So am I, not too much, but enough. No, I think he approved of nothing that I said, A GALLIC GIRL. 107 and I am sure that nothing which he said to me convinced me. Barring that, we are, as we were before... - Then - - asked Mme. de Bray -- you have not yet decided to marry M. d'Au- bieres ? - I have decided not ta marry him... And turning toward Uncle Marc : - I will reply to him to-night, since you say that he is to come. - No exclaimed the marquise angrily - you will not reply to him to-night ! It is madness to refuse without thinking ! - I have thought ! I have done nothing else. Since yesterday I have reflected enough to kill me. - You must wait before giving a definite reply to the Due d' Aubieres ! - Wait for what? I have waited long enough. - You must not talk to him to-day ! said the marquise, rising imperiously. And seeing that instead of going into the parlor Darling went up the stairway, she asked : 108 A GALLIC GIRL. Well, where are you going? To my room. - You must stay here. The girl reddened and replied clearly : That is indifferent to me, but if I re- main here I will talk to M. d' Aubieres as I must. I will tell him that I am formally determined not to marry him. You are crazy ! You have said it so much. - There he comes exclaimed the mar- quise suddenly. - Ah ! so much the better sighed Darling I will get rid of that weight. And going to the Colonel, who was enter- ing, she said to him without embarrass- ment: - M. d'Aubieres, I would like to talk to you... will you come with me in the garden? And going down the stoop smilingly, she added in a low voice. - But you must not kiss me. The poor man followed her docilely, di- vining what she was to say to him. Before she talked he inquired in a touching voice : A GALLIC GIRL. 109 It is to tell me that you do not want me? Yes said Darling, sorry for this great grief that she was causing I have thought of you a great deal since last night, and I have understood that I cannot marry you. I like you well, however. I like you with all my heart. I am sorry to tell you these things, but it is better to tell them before than to tell them after, isn't it? He said nothing. She could not see him in the night, but she divined how unfortu- nate he felt, and the thought saddened her. - I pray you - - placing her hand softly on M. d'Aubieres's arm, don't grieve over it. I am not worth grieving over. I am ignorant and badly brought up. I have all the vices of the family, as my mother says. I am incapable of being a colonel's wife. I would never know how to talk, nor receive, nor make a presentable face to people who displease me, nor persuade idiots that I think they have wit. I am not a woman, I am a savage, made to live with flowers and with animals. 110 A GALLIC GIRL. Suddenly, anxiously, chanring the tone of her voice, she exclaimed : Where is Gribouille? I haven't seen him since breakfast. . . He may be lost. And she ran through the lawn in the di- rection of the stables. In an instant she came back, still running, followed by Gribouille, jumping on her shoulders. - I beg your pardon she said, out of breath - - I beg your pardon for leaving you in that way ! I was afraid for Gribouille ! It does not matter. . . I should not have done it... in the midst of a serious conversation... that gives you an idea of the sort of girl that I am. As the Due made no answer she asked : - Aren't you here? - Yes, --he said hoarsely. yes... I am here. He had taken a seat near the alley on a mound. Darling went near him, feeling that he was crying. - What ! she said, violently affected. . . what ! you are crying? The thought that this man who appeared A GALLIC GIRL. Ill to her a giant, almost old, could cry, had never come to her. Astonished and troubled, she sat near him, - Oh, -- she said, almost ready to cry herself. She thought of nothing to say. She lost her head. She thought "that she was hor- ribly wicked and stupid, to torment this man who was so good, and was crying near her. The idea that somebody could suffer for her or because of her was odious to Coryse. She preferred, a thousand times, to suffer herself. And at once she said to herself : - Well. . . I will tell him what is going through my head... and then afterward, if he wants to marry me all the same, well, I will marry him. - Listen to me she said, with her sonorous voice, which so profoundly moved the Due -- listen to me and understand me if you can, because I do the best I can, but it may not be very clear... It is very hard to say... If we were in the sunlight instead of being in the dark, if I saw your 112 A GALLIC GIRL. face and if you saw mine... I would never dare... never. But to begin with, do not cry... that is horrible to me. - And as he continued to cry, she knelt before him : - I pray you. She put her arms around his neck and kissing affectionately his wet cheek, she repeated in a supplicating voice : -I pray you... since I tell you that I will do all that you wish ! Forgetting the day before, she went near him closer, candid and tender. He pushed her almost harshly : No, no ! At first surprised, Darling rose, saying, sadly : - Oh, yes, I see. You are doing as I did yesterday. And timidly she sat by the side of the Due without saying a word. He continued, timidly : - No, do not believe this, my dear little Coryse. You cannot understand me ; I am nervous, miserable. I do not know what I A GALLIC GIRL. 113 am doing or what I am saying. I had made such a beautiful dream and I have fallen from such a height. She asked anxiously : - If you had what you call ' ' a beautiful dream," it isn't my fault, is it? I mean, I am not the one who made you think that I would marry you? I have not tried to make you love me, have I? - No, certainly ! - All right, then. If I had done that it would break my heart. I think that to make eyes and faces, and all the rest, to people to make them think that they please you or that you desire to please them is abominable, yes, abominable! And after a silence, she added : - I see people do that around me. . . but I will never do it. - You said a moment ago said the Due that you would explain to me why you do not wish to be my wife. - Yes, and it embarrasses me a little to explain this to you. I know of life only what I can guess, and it isn't much. But 114 A GALLIC GIRL. I hear conversations. When there is a ball at the house I see a great many little things... I am not talking of the young girls... the young girls can do what they like... there is nothing wrong about that, since they are not married. . . but the ladies. . . there are some who deceive their husbands. . . and... deceiving one's husband, I do not know exactly where that begins or where it ends, but I think that it is very wrong. - Certainly it is wrong ! - Well, then... I am sure that if I mar- ried you... I would deceive you. - But - - muttered M. d'Aubieres as- tounded why are you sure of that? - Sure as much as one can be of that sort of thing. Until now I have never met anybody about whom I have said to myself : " I would marry him." - Well. - Well, if after we are married I said to myself one day : " Hello ! here's a man that I would marry, ' ' think of it ! what a blow ! In spite of his grief the Due felt like laughing, but he replied gravely : A GALLIC GIRL. 115 - What you are saying has happened to many women - And then? - And then, instead of letting their thoughts go to the new-comer, they rested on their husband. . . and if he was a good husband... which I should be... - I am sure of that said Darling with conviction - - but do you think that it is enough for a man to be a good husband if his wife is not a good wife? - And why should you not be a good little wife, honest and brave? - That's what I would be... if I did not meet. . . -What? - The man whom I may never meet, but who is, certainly, not you. And as M. d' Aubieres seemed moved, she added, quickly : - Yes, I like you a great deal. . . I have already said that to you. . . but I think that I do not like you at all, not at all as one should like one's husband. I am sure that the day when I meet the man whom I 116 A GALLIC GIRL. shall love as a husband, I will let myself go. . . Oh, without any reserve ! You see, it is a strange thing to say to you... but it would be stranger to marry you without saying it. If after you know what prevents me from saying yes, you persist in wanting me... at least, you are forewarned... you cannot reproach me for anything. When I say, " cannot reproach me, " that's a way of talking, because I can realize that it couldn't please you much... But I will not have been a hypocrite. Do you understand ? I understand said M. d'Aubieres softly - - that you would be miserable with me, and that I would be horribly miserable to see you miserable. I have to renounce what has been for six months all my joy, all my hope. You have made me understand very delicately and very picturesquely that I am an old fool. You are not angry with me asked Coryse - - I am sure that you are angry. No, I assure you that I am not. He tried to rise and remained imbedded in the soil. A GALLIC GIEL. 117 Hello ! lie said, surprised to feel that every movement made him go in deeper. Gribouille, seeing him move, had under- stood that they were going, and danced before him, barking furiously. The Due tried to rest on his hand, but it went into the soft earth. I do not know where I am he said to Darling, who standing in the alley was waiting. It seems to me that I am seated in a hole... and the more I try to get out of it the more I fall into it. . . She extended her hands, he took them and rose at once. But as she approached, she felt the soil yielding under her. What is the matter she asked, touching the place that M. d'Aubieres had just quitted. She stood up laughing : - Ah, it's the flower graveyard, you were seated on it. . . and as I buried a great many this morning, it's all soft. He asked : "What graveyard? Flowers... yes, don't talk of this at the house, they would laugh at me... I 118 A GALLIC GIRL. know it's silly, but I like flowers so much that I cannot see them soiled when they are dead. In truth, since her earliest infancy, Dar- ling buried her faded flowers. The idea that a flower might touch something dirty was unbearable to her. In winter she burned them in the chimney of her room, but in summer she buried them conscienti- ously in the garden, in hiding, fearing the scoldings of her mother and the sarcasms of Uncle Marc. - Don't tell about it? she repeated anxiously except Gribouille, nobody knows about it. . . and I would be so angry if people laughed at me... because they would be right... it is ridiculous ! - You may be sure, Mile. Coryse, I will never talk to anybody about your flower graveyard. And sadly he added : -This poor little graveyard... I do not at all resemble a flower, but I was buried in it to-night... Yes... completely buried. - ~Now exclaimed Coryse are you going to think of that again? A GALLIC GIRL. 119 - No, but let me go out by the smaller gate. I prefer not to go into the house with my eyes big as my fists. It would be too ridiculous. I will come to see Marc to-morrow morning. - You like Uncle Marc a great deal, don't you? - A great deal. . . He Is a friend of my childhood. You are of the same age? - He is three years younger than I am. - It's the same thing. - The same thing. . . yes, you are right. But, when he kissed for the last time the little solid and supple hand of Darling, M. d' Aubieres said to himself : -Well, no... it isn't the same thing... it's three years younger. When she came in the parlor the girl looked, as if she saw him for the first time, at Uncle Marc, who was reading near a lamp. And instead of replying to M. and Mme. de Bray, who were questioning her anxiously on the Due's disappearance, she thought : 120 A GALLIC GIRL. It is not three years younger, it is ten years younger that Uncle Marc seems to be. VII. The next morning, Darling, lying on the lawn, was playing with Gribouille while waiting for the hour of her lecture, when Uncle Marc coming near her, said in a harsh tone : - Aubieres has gone. She rose with a bound. - How gone... gone where? -To Paris... where he will shake him- self a little. . . He needs it, the poor fellow ! Ah ! - - said the girl - - you frightened me ! . . . I thought he had gone forever ! - Would you have been sorry? - You may be sure ! Aubieres's sorrow grieved me... but 122 A GALLIC GIEL. now that it is all finished. . . I can tell you, Darling, that I think you have done well. - Good ! . . . and papa ? - Papa too. - Then all is for the best ! Do you go out riding this morning? - No... I have some letters to write... I haven't told you... I have great news... Aunt Crisville is dead ! - Ah she said, indifferently she is not my aunt... and I did not know her! Neither did you, since she never left the south. - I did not see her often. . . but I was her godchild. And Uncle Marc continued, quietly : - I came to announce to you that she left her wealth to me. - All her wealth ! -- exclaimed Coryse in astonishment but she is so, so wealthy ! - She was so wealthy, the poor woman ! Darling threw her arms around Uncle Marc's neck, while Gribouille imitating her, jumped at his legs. A GALLIC GIRL. 123 -Oh! ... how happy I am... plenty of money will become you so well ! - Let me go. . . you strangle me said Marc de Bray brusquely - - I have repeated to you a hundred times that you are too big to hang on my neck like a baby ! - I beg your pardon... I always forget... and what are you to do with all that money? - To begin with, I will travel. . . - Oh ! -- murmured the girl you are going. . . you too ? And leaning her head on Marc's shoulder she cried silently. -Aren't you silly? he said impa- tiently. She replied, in a scarcely audible voice : - I beg your pardon. I am irritated. I do not know what is the matter with me. A moment ago it was M. d'Aubieres who liked me, and who has gone... now it's you ! She concluded : -People who like me... there aren't bushels of them, you know. Well, I'm not going never to return... I'm not going around the world... France 124 A GALLIC GIRL. is sufficient for me. Anywhere else I get the spleen. - It's now that you will be able to go into politics... This time it won't be the little whipped-cream dude who'll win... How this money comes in time... it is just a month before the elections... you'll have time to down the pupil of the good Fathers who lies to the working men. . . who lies to people in society. . . who lies all the time. . . yes, you'll down him... and won't I be happy? Uncle Marc asked, laughingly : - You'll be happy because of your in- terest in me, or because you detest the whipped-cream dude? - I'll be happy for both reasons ! . . . And charity? I suppose that you are to do it on a large scale now. You did it when you were not rich ! - How do you know? - I know the people whom you aided... and when I see them they talk of you... that's why I go... otherwise I might as well go to people who didn't have you. A GALLIC GIRL. 125 - How is it that they talk to you of me, and never talk to me of you? - Because I tell them not to. I say to them : " If he knew that I came here, and that he might meet me here, you would never see him again. . . never. . . because he hides himself to do good, as others do to steal." Is it true? - What a queer little girl you are. - Oh, does mother know? - Know what? - That you have inherited so much money? -Yes. Darling laughed : - She must have made a long face. . . for although she had an air of saying that the aunt would leave her wealth to charitable institutions, she always hoped that you and father would have it... and as what she expected is only lialf true, and not the right half, she must be in a state... Then she asked, sadly : Is it now that you are going, say? 126 A GALLIC GIRL. -For a few days on business... but I will return quickly. - Yes... come back... you haven't much time for the elections. I'll work for you ! Oh, poor old Jean ! He'll have to trot on foot and on horseback ! And, as the Yicomte laughed, she con- tinued : - You don't care for my work?... that's where you make a mistake. I am very popular, although it doesn't appear. . . very much ! Then turning to other questions : How I shall be glad to see the faces of those who don't like you... there are many. - How do you make out that there are many? - Oh, at Pont-sur-Sarthe. I'm not talk- ing of Paris. In the three months which we spend in Paris I never know what you are doing, nor if anybody loves you or does not love you... whereas here it's very differ- ent. I see what is going on. And what do you see? A GALLIC GIRL. 127 - That, except a few friends, everybody hates you. What have I done? All that is necessary for that. . . you live alone, and at Pont-sur-Sarthe, this is not to be forgiven. . . elsewhere neither ! But I don't live alone ! Yes ! You say zut to calls, to dinners, to clubs, to balls, to matinees, to the ' ' salutes ' ' of the Fathers, to garden par- ties ! . . . Zut to the evening receptions of Mme. de Bassigny ! Zut to all that bothers you ! . . . and you are right. . . only you mustn't think that is the way to make the fools like you. - Yes. . . I am a bear. . . I am wrong. Why wrong? Why do you care... especially now that whatever you do people will adore you and ask your hand in mar- riage ! It isn't a secret, is it? -What? - Your legacy? - No, I am not going to yell it on the housetops, but I am not sorry if people know it. 128 A GALLIC GIRL. - That's strange said Darling, in sur- prise -- you are always so indiiferent about the effect that you may produce. Why do you wish people to know that you are rich? - Because I do not want them to think when they see me spend a great deal of money for my election that I am supported Iby a committee. That method in politics of using the money of others is disgusting to me. - I don't see what committee could sup- port you, since your ideas are independent of all party programmes. - It's true... but people would say it all the same. Anyhow, I shall have much fun this morning. What time is it? Uncle Marc looked at his watch : - A quarter to nine. Then I have time. She called for Jean. The old coachman appeared at the stable door. - Dress quickly. . . we are going out at once ! . . . I have to be at the Place des Giron- dins in ten minutes. A GALLIC GIRL. 129 The chambermaid passed through the yard and Coryse shouted at her : - Is Madame la Marquise in? - Yes, mademoiselle. - Then all is well ! I was afraid that she might be there already. And kissing her hand v to Uncle Marc, she disappeared, laughing. A quarter of an hour later, Darling rang the bell at the gate of the Jesuit house. - I am not mistaken in thinking that this is the hour when Father Ragon says his mass, am I? she asked of the brother gatekeeper. - Yes... it's his mass... but it's finished in a moment ! Instead of going into the chapel, Coryse remained in the garden. She walked up and down, supple in her gown of pale pink linen; her joyful face hidden in a hat of Neapolitan straw covered with roses, and watching the door of the little church, she thought, joyfully: He will go into the sacristy... but as 130 A GALLIC GIRL. there is no other exit he will have to pass by here. I can't miss him. In the mean- while all these ladies will arrive. And I'll place my little bit of news in the lot. . . how amusing it will be ! Forgetting entirely where she was, she danced a step or two, before the profound stupefaction of the brother gatekeeper. Even Jean, who knew Darling's ways, was surprised at this exhibition of gaiety. He asked in astonishment : What is the matter with you this morning, Miss Coryse? She stopped, with one foot in the air, and replied laughing : I will tell you on the way home. In the meanwhile you may sleep on the bench, if you wish ... only try to assume a more graceful pose than yesterday. The door of the chapel was shut with a noise that made Coryse 's head turn, and she saw little Barfleur coming out of the church. He wore a blue jacket infinitely short and narrow and trousers of large checks of many shades. The cravat, which A GALLIC GIRL. 131 was enormous, almost hid the collar of his shirt. In this costume he appeared to Dar- ling more insignificant than ever. He was not ugly, and looked distinguished enough in spite of his smallness of stature and of his clothes made in the fashion of to-mor- row. The girl walked toward him, pre- pared to say good morning to him. But seeing that she was alone he bowed without stopping, with extreme precision, and took a position in front of the church waiting for people coming from the mass. He is waiting for Mme. Delorme thought Darling, who for some time had suspected that Mme. Delorme, the very pretty wife of a lawyer of Pont-sur-Sarthe, found little Barfleur agreeable. Mme. Delorme appeared a moment later. The young man approached her with a sur- prised air, as if he never expected to meet her there. Darling said to herself : -The mass is not yet finished ... they went out before everybody, so that they could talk to each other. And, seeing the pretty woman bend her 132 A GALLIC GIRL. flexible waist to look at the little being who came to her shoulder, she thought : - How odd it is, anyway ! M. Delorme looks a hundred times better!... what c:n please her in that thing? Little Barfleur has neither wit, nor kindness, nor gentle- ness ... he is homely and silly ... He has only the prestige of his parchments . . . Ah ! Mme. Delorme is going ... he will meet her outside ... and they'll talk in the park ... as if they had met by chance ! She followed with her eyes the young woman who walked, balancing her beautiful and fine waist, and said to herself : It's agreeable to be beautiful ! I wish I were beautiful ! Mme. de Bray had so often repeated to Coryse that she was homely and not graceful that, sincerely, the girl believed it. A murmur of voices interrupted her re- flections. Mme. de Bassigny was coming out of the chapel, escorted by two or three women of Pont-sur-Sarthe, who habitually paid court to her. A GALLIC GIEL. 133 Now thought Coryse now is the time to throw my bomb ! And she walked slowly towards the group, her head lowered, apparently pro- foundly absorbed in the contemplation of a shell, which she rolled with the end of her foot. Ah. . . here is Miss Darling exclaimed Mme. de Bassigny. You are well, Miss Darling? Very well Madam replied Coryse, who saw at once that they were looking at her attentively. Curiosity was vividly excited by the story of M. d'Aubieres's demand, his refusal, and his sudden departure at eight o'clock in the morning, in a cab with one box. On the way to church, Mme. de Bassigny had told the story to her friends, much surprised that ' ' this little penniless girl should have refused a Due with 25,000 a year." They were jealous of the little girl, and they reproached her for having had an offer of marriage, and for having refused it. - How can I slip in Uncle Marc's legacy? 134 A GALLIC GIRL. - Darling was repeating to herself while the Colonel's wife stared at her. - 'Tisn't easy ! It must have an air of coming natur- ally. - I am enchanted to meet you, Miss Coryse said Mme. de Bassigny, with an amiable air, - - for I wish to ask you to transmit to your mother an invitation which I was to address to her. I want to ask her to dine with us in a fortnight, Thursday, you and M. de Bray... and also M. Marc, if he consents... but I cannot hope that he will do us this honor. Darling jumped at the opportunity which presented itself, and looking attentively at Mme. de Bassigny, in order to follow the least movements of her physiognomy, she replied in a clear voice : - My uncle seldom dines away from home... but in any case he will not be here in a fortnight. He is going away. - With theDucd'Aubieres? wickedly asked the Colonel's wife. Darling looked as if she did not under- stand, and without a sign of emotion : A GALLIC GIRL. 135 -No... alone... His aunt Criswell is dead... and... - Ah !... she died at Pau probably in- terrupted Mme. de Bassigny. And turning to one of the women who ac- companied her she suggested : - You wish to buy a castle? Crisville is * certainly to be placed on sale. It's too high up for a hospital or an orphanage. At Pont-sur-Sarthe everybody believed so firmly that Mme. de Crisville would leave her fortune to charitable institutions that the Colonel's wife had not a doubt in her mind - No said Darling, innocently - - I do not think that my uncle will sell Cris- ville. I think he'll live in it, on the con- trary. And, negligently: - He inherits everything. He... what?... he... M. de Bray? stuttered Mme. de Bassigny. - - But she leaves at least five or six millions your aunt. . . - She isn't my aunt... but she leaves a 136 A GALLIC GIRL. great deal more than that ! - - rectified Dar- ling, with great audacity, although totally ignorant of the amount of the legacy. - More than that ! - - repeated Mme. de Bassigny, astounded and vexed. As they were going out of the chapel she said farewell to Coryse, and quickly went to meet the newcomers, anxious to tell the news which would annoy others as much as it annoyed her. From a distance Darling could see faces darken as she talked. - They are dumbfounded she thought - I did well to come. Suddenly she rushed to the chapel. She had caught a glimpse of Father Eagon, ad- vancing with his harmonious and regular step. - I mustn't let anybody pick him up ! She went near him quickly, asking with a polite air : - Will you permit me to say a word to you? And as the Jesuit glanced anxiously at those who, like her, seemed to be waiting for him, she affirmed : A GALLIC GIRL. 137 - Oh, it won't be long ! Yesterday I talked a great deal too much. - No, my child, on the contrary. You surprised and interested me. - You are very good, but I know I was wrong to talk of my uncle and of his politics, and I wish to ask you not to speak of it to mother, who will come to see you to-day. - I assure you said Father Ragon, drily - - that you infinitely exaggerate the importance of your conversation. -Not at all! I told you... or almost told you... that my uncle would not run against M. de Bernay, because he had no money. Yes... well? - Well, he will run, because he has money. - Ah ! -- said the Jesuit, annoyed. And forgetting the precepts of discretion and of prudence, which habitually guided his most indifferent acts, he asked squarely : - How has he money? Darling replied : 138 A GALLIC GIRL. - By being the only heir to his Aunt Crisville, who died yesterday. Father Ragon looked stupid, his mouth half open. Old Mme. de Crisville was one of his penitents, and he had rehearsed to her a testament wherein the Jesuits were not forgotten. And this old woman had died far from his will, neglecting to keep the promises which he had obtained with much pains, and left her fortune to whom... to a socialist, honest and already at his ease ; to a dangerous man whom, unconsciously, she armed for a struggle against all that she should have respected and sustained ! At last he asked, talking to himself rather than to Darling, who with her eyes devoured him joyously : -It is an enormons fortune? - Enormous ! repeated the girL -It's half of the Department. Like an echo she replied : -Half of the Department... at least! With rapid intuition the Jesuit had the idea that perhaps Coryse was making fun of him, but when he lowered his look he found A GALLIC GIRL. 139 her at Ms feet, smiling, in indifferent pose, which reassured him. And he said to him- self suddenly that the Darling whom nobody had ever deigned to regard with the least attention would probably become an heiress. The Vicomte de Bray's affection for her was known to be profound at JPont-sur-Sarthe. Everybody knew that he liked her as if she had been his daughter. Assuming a pater- nal tone, Father Ragon said to Coryse : - I am happy, entirely happy, at the happiness that God sends you. . . for I see in this really the hand of God! Yesterday, through an excess of delicacy, through a fear that you were not saintly enough to be his wife, you declined the Due d'Aubieres, who was walling to accept you without money. To -day the Lord rewards your be- havior by placing you in a position where you may choose according to your own heart. . . - But - - said Darling, who could not guess the Jesuit's motive I do not see why I will be better able to choose accord- ing to my heart. . . admitting that my heart 140 A GALLIC GIRL. wants to choose anything. . . simply because my uncle inherits from his aunt. - It is very clear, however murmured Father Ragon, talking to himself as much as to Coryse, - - that the Yicomte de Bray will give a fine dowry to the child whom he considers almost as his own. She laughed. Precisely. You think that I have now become a good catch. And I who was say- ing to myself that M. d' Aubieres's offer had increased my value ! Yes, I notice that since then people look at me with respectful curiosity. What will it be now, for heavens sake? Honors, money... I'll be changed. While she was talking, the Jesuit, who had caught a glimpse of little Barfleur still planted under a tree, exchanged with him affectionate signals. - It is Hugues de Barfleur he said suddenly, showing the young man to Dar- ling, one of my former pupils. She replied without enthusiasm : I know... I know him. A GALLIC GIRL. 141 - He is one of our faithful people - continued Father Ragon. - - He comes here every day to hear early mass. His soul is a beautiful one. He does nothing that is not agreeable to God. - I do not know exclaimed the girl in spite of herself - - if it is^ so agreeable to God, as you say, that M. de Barfleur should come here to flirt with Mme. Delorme. The Jesuit made a gesture of indignant protest and of sincere surprise. He had not suspected anything, but the girl's reflection placed under a new light a thousand details which had not occurred to him until now. Anxious to avert suspicion and to serve his pupil, he replied in his most insinuating voice : - In the mouth of a young girl such re- marks are misplaced. You lack perspica- city, my child* Hugues de Barfleur could not be preoccupied by the person whom you say. Not only his principles protect him from such temptations, but I know that he is preoccupied by somebody else. Ah said Coryse. 142 A GALLIC GIRL. - Yes, the poor boy has lost his heart. He loves a young girl who has not until now paid the slighest attention to him. - A young girl asked Darling, asking herself who it might be I have no idea who the girl is. But, suddenly illuminated, she asked in a burst of laughter : Me, perhaps... oh ! that's a good one. And, contemplating the Jesuit with ad- miration : - Well, you may flatter yourself that you never lose a moment's time. Father Ragon looked at her with smiling lips, but harsh eyes. Then she excused herself : - I beg your pardon to laugh like that. . . but it's so funny. In that way the money which will harm M. de Bernay will at least be of some advantage to M. de Barfleur. It won't go out of the house. Oh! .... There's no denying it, it's magnifi- cently done ! Mademoiselle d'Avesnes - - declared the Jesuit in a cutting voice when she A GALLIC GIRL. 143 says that you are badly brought up, your mother is right. . . Right to think it. . . but not to say it ! - replied softly Darling. Bowing her leave to the Father, she sought for old Jean. He was immovable on his bench. Mechanically she rounded . her lips, but stopping in fright, thought : - Oh... I almost whistled for him, as I often do... what a scene that would have made ! In coming out of the Jesuit's house she almost ran, forgetting the servant, who pain- fully extended his old legs behind her. She was anxious to tell the news to the Abbe Chatel, certain that it would please him. At the corner of the Palais Square a flower woman was stationed. Darling bought roses and went to the presbytery of Saint- Marcien. If the presbytery of the cathedral was not magnificent, that of Saint-Marcien was piti- ful. A little hut, backing on the old basilica, in a dark and dirty alley. At the left of 144 A GALLIC GIRL. the hut a miserable little garden. The Abbe Chatel, who adored flowers, had known how to transform into an odoriferous basket the poor little corner of bad soil. The servant had gone to market It was the Abbe who opened the door to Coryse. He held in one hand a jelly pot at that instant filled with glue and in the other hand an enormous disheveled brush. - I beg your pardon for receiving you in this way, - - he exclaimed to Darling, who was saluting him - - but I was papering the parlor. And he showed thin strips that the damp- ness had detached from the wall. The furniture was brief. Six cane-seated chairs. An old arm-chair without a cushion. An admirable wooden clock, elegant and rare, and a statue of the Holy Virgin placed on the wall, on a pedestal surmounted by a vase. - I have brought roses to you for your Virgin said Darling, putting the flowers in the vase but you must get water for them quickly. A GALLIC GIRL. 145 - Yes... in a moment. -No... at once. In this heat it would be barbarous to make them wait. And you may be sure that the Holy Virgin doesn't like anything to suffer for her, does she? - It's true said the priest obediently. He took the vase to a faucet in the garden. Coryse said to herself : - He isn't stylish. With his good red face under his white hair, he looks a little like a tomato in cotton ! But he pleases me thus because his mind is beautiful. In- stead of trying to down the friends of poor people and to get rich wives for little dudes who have squandered all their money, he is preoccupied by good works. There's a man who knows nothing about scandals and in- trigues and flirtations, and all the rest ! And as the Abbe returned, carrying care- fully the vase, which was too full and made rivulets on his cassock, she shouted at him joyfully : - Monsieur 1' Abbe, I am very happy ! - Ah he said with gladness not like yesterday, then. 146 A GALLIC GIRL. He took the roses and with his awkward hands arranged them in the vase with in- finite care. When this was done, he sat opposite Coryse. - Monsieur TAbbe... since this morning Uncle Marc is very, very rich ! - How did it happen, my child? - Oh, he didn't stop a stage-coach, as you might think. He inherited the money from his aunt. - Is she dead? - ... turally, Monsieur 1'Abbe. - Oh, the poor woman, she was so gen- erous, so good to the unfortunate. - Uncle Marc will be as good as she was. May God hear you, my child ! - Well she said discontentedly you look as if you doubted it. -I don't doubt it... no... but it would not be surprising if M. Marc were less pre- occupied than was his aunt by heavenly things. He is so young... - Young ! exclaimed Coryse, in aston- ishment - - Young, Uncle Marc? No... but he isn't old. A GALLIC GIRL. 147 - I don't say that he is crumbling... but he isn't young either. . . since he is only three years younger than M. d'Aubieres, who is old. And how about him, my child ? -Oh, --said Coryse with a sigh --He went away this morningj - Went away? Not forever. . . he will come back. Anyway, Monsieur 1'Abbe, if I had known that you wouldn't be warmer than this... I wouldn't have dragged my poor old Jean here in this heat. I would let you have learned the thing by yourself. - But, my child, you misunderstand me. I am happy, sincerely happy for your uncle, and also for the joy that it gives you. All right then. . . I am going. It will be noon in a moment. As Darling returned home under the ar- dent sun, the Abbe Chatel murmured, while arranging his roses at the feet of the little Holy Virgin in the parlor : - My God, protect this child who loves you. My God, give her happiness... VIII. You know said Darling to Uncle Marc, when he returned after fifteen days of absence everybody is against you . . . your letter to your electors has revolutionized Pont-sur-Sarthe ... Oh, what faces they will make at you ! - That is indifferent to me. - Yes ... I know ... but I don't like to hear everybody go for you as everybody does ... I am sick of it ! - Who is everybody ? - The habitues of the house ... ail the old nuisances ... I don't know why I call them old, the young ones are as much a nuisance . . . and mother ! . . . Day before yes- terday she came back in such a state! She had read your placard on the walls. A GALLIC GIRL. 149 What did she say? - She made a scene ... Oh, a true, a beautiful scene ! More beautiful than the ordinary ones? Much more ! Poor Pierre said the vicomte, laugh- ing- How wicked you are to laugh. He is so good. Yes, he is good ! If I were in his place. . . -And I!... She thought a moment, and concluded : - This proves that he is better than we are ! - Tell me, Darling asked Uncle Marc - what gentle little life I am to lead here under these conditions?... - What conditions? - You say that your mother is furious against me... Oh, as for that ! - Well, then, she is going to treat me like a simple negro... Oh no. 150 A GALLIC GIRL. Oh, yes, as she did it before. . . - Yes, but she has to consider your boodle ! What do you say? I say that if your election vexes her, your boodle enchants her ... she respects money, you know ! -Oh! - There isn't any oh ! about it. After a silence, she asked : - You have finished your affairs? Almost. And you are rich ? - Very. - So much the better ! M. de Bernay is moving a great deal... you must beware of him ... because Charlie will not pass. - How do you know? I was told so. - By whom ? - The workingmen at the furnace. Uncle Marc laughed. - So you talk with the workingmen at the furnace? Poor Aubieres is right, you are really a queer little girl ! A GALLIC GIRL. 151 - So you saw M. d'Aubieres? Yes. - Will he come back soon? - He will come for the races. The breakfast bell rang. Mme. de Bray entered like a whirlwind. With a smile split to her ears, she almost ran to her brother-in-law. - My dear Marc... I have just heard that you have returned... And without giving him the time to re- piy; I am glad to see you again... we miss you so much when you are not here... don't we, Darling? The marquise was never amiable with her brother-in-law, and she never called her daughter Darling, except when she was posing for tenderness before a stranger. Marc looked at her in surprise, and lowered his eyes at once when he saw the queer face that Coryse made behind her mother's back. - Did you see Pierre? asked Mme. de Bray. 152 A GALLIC GIRL. - Yes... I saw him... She asked, smilingly : - Did he warn you of the terrible effect produced by your letter on your electors? No! - Well, my poor Marc, you have no idea of the scandal of the disagreeable scandal which it has caused around your name. - As that name is also yours, I beg your pardon. . . - Pshaw ! . . . everything is fair in war. I am quite reconciled to it now... To be frank, at the beginning I was absolutely stupefied. And, interpellating her husband, who was entering the room : - Is it not true that I am at present in- different to the scandal caused by Marc's posters. . . I have made up my mind bravely. - That is at least what you said re- plied M. de Bray. As they went into the dining-room, Dar- ling whispered in Uncle Marc's ear : -Fine weather, eh?... I told you... the boodle ! A GALLIC GIRL. 153 - Coryse said the marquise, while taking her seat - - I do not know if I remem- bered to tell yon that we are to dine Satur- day at the Barfieur's. - No... but you never tell me when you and father are to dine out. - You are invited... - That doesn't matter... since I am not going ! -Why should you not go? - - asked Mine, de Bray. - Because I never go to those dinners. . . and it is understood that I am not to be brought into society until the winter follow- ing my eighteenth year... that is in two years. - But that is not going into society. . . -But it is!... you have to dress... to show yourself. . . to be bothered. . . that's what I call going into society. - I have accepted your invitation. - Shouldn't... since you have promised me that until my eighteenth year I should never be compelled to do that sort of work. . . I don't see why I should dine at the Bar- 154 A GALLIC GIRL. fleur's rather than at Mme. de Bassigny's. She had invited me for to-night. She added, laughingly : - Talking to me personally, in the garden of the Jesuits. She also invited you, Uncle Marc... although she said that she didn't hope you would do her the honor to accept. - This proves that she has moments of lucidity. I will never go to Mme. de Bas- signy's. But in any case I could not go to-night, since I am in mourning. Darling cast a laughing look on her mother's gown. A gown of an undecided mauve color, so undecided that one could not tell whether it was mauve or pink. - Oh, said the marquise it is a three months' mourning... and fifteen days at least of the time have passed... my dear Marc, I want to ask you if it would be disa- greeable to you to have a ball here the day of the races? Not at all... provided I am not obliged to appear in it. - If you don't appear in it... it will look as if you didn't like it. A GALLIC GIRL. 155 - 1 don't know how it will look, but I will not go to a ball, a month after the death of an aunt who left me her fortune. That would be an evidence not only of lack of heart, but of absolute lack of taste. The marquise replied : As we have not the same reasons to ab- stain. . . and as I am anxious to give this ball for Coryse... - For me ! exclaimed the girl in aston- ishment for me, I detest society. I do not know how to dance ! A ball for me... Oh, Lord! - It is precisely to teach you how to be- have in society and to give you the taste for it. Darling objected : - Well, this tale of a ball given for me won't fool anybody everybody knows that I don't count for much in this house, and that what is done in it is not done for me ! - You are ungrateful and impertinent ! - exclaimed Mme. de Bray, in a voice which seemed to vibrate in her eyebrows. No, replied the girl quietly but I 156 A GALLIC GIRL. think that it would be better to tell the truth to Uncle Marc and to everybody. - And the truth is ? - The truth is that the ball will be given to astound the natives by showing them the prince. Marc de Bray asked in surprise : - What prince? - Oh, it's true said Coryse joyfully, that you do not know ! There has been a prince at Pont-sur-Sarthe for eight days ... a real prince . . . not made of pasteboard . . . one who will reign, unless his papa be over- thrown ! - And he calls himself? - Count Axen . . . when he is traveling. - What is Count Axen doing here? The marquise would have answered, but Darling did not give her the time : - Nobody knows . . . they say that he came here to attend the parade and re- views ... or to learn French ... which he talks better than we do. The vicomte asked : How is the prince? A GALLIC GIRL. 157 - He is charming quickly replied Mme. de Bray. Darling said : - It depends ... He is as high as your boot . . . and black, black ! Only people call him Monseigneur, and Your Highness. . . so, you understand, it's delightful ! - People talk to him as they should - interrupted M. de Bray, who saw a cloud coming and tried to stop all discussion. Oh, I think it's natural said Coryse and I talk to him in the same way when I reply to him. Only, there are people whom it amuses and people whom it does not amuse. And, looking at her mother, she added: - Humility isn't my forte. Of the numerous little sides of the mar- quise's character, the one which most dis- agreeably shocked Coryse was her arrogance with the humble and her platitude before the great. Often, after crushing a servant or a workingman with the superiority of her intelligence a superiority which her 158 A GALLIC GIRL. daughter refused to acknowledge Mme. de Bray complained of the stupidity of those whom she called mercenaries. Dar- ling, amused, would reply laughingly : - If he had the qualities that you want him to have, probably he would be an Am- bassador instead of being a servant ! Little Coryse thought it natural that one should be respectful toward princes ; but she did not understand that one could run after occasions to meet them. She hated ceremony and liked to live alone with her equals. And then, it seemed to her that modern princes having forgotten that they are princes, it is extravagant to be com- pelled to make an effort to remember that they are Since the arrival of Count Axen at Pont- sur-Sarthe, the marquise swam in joy, prodi- giously flattered because His Highness had called on her His Highness had been sent by M. d'Aubieres, who, several years before was a military attache in the little country over which his father reigned. And Mme. de Bray compelled in Paris to run from A GALLIC GIRL. 159 right to left, in order to meet a few princes who never paid much attention to her - totally weaned at Pont-sur-Sarthe from court formulas and reverence, wherein she imagined she excelled - - had felt as if Heaven was open to her when she unsealed the letter addressed to her husband, in which the Colonel announced the coming of the little hereditary prince This time, the most elegant drawing- rooms of the town were surpassed, since Count Axen knew at Pont-sur-Sarthe only the four Generals, the Mayor and the pre- fect. And, without pity for Mme. de Bas- signy, her best friend, who turned around a request to be introduced, Mme. de Bray had said, with an air of indifference, " that it was very annoying not to be able to give a reception to Monseigneur, who refused to make new acquaintances." At Pont-sur-Sarthe there are many grace- ful women, some of whom are very pretty. It was to be feared that the little prince might become unfaithful to the Bray house- hold. 160 A GALLIC GIRL, He forced the marquise out of her reserve. One evening he aid to M de Bray : - I would be obliged if you took me to a ball at the Barfleurs's. The marquise startled ; -What ball? - A ball on the day of the races. This evening at the restaurant I was told of it - But - - impetuously exclaimed Mine, de Bray - There cannot be a ball at the Barfleurs's on that day, since we are to give one ! There had not been the least idea of such a thing. The marquis and Darling looked at each other, astounded by that audacity, but Mme. de Bray was not at all embar- rassed. She continued, addressing her hus- band : - Is it not true that we have chosen that day weeks ago ! She sent her invitations the next day. At least, by giving herself the ball, which was to "disseminate" the little Highness, she would have the honor to show that she had known him before everybody else. A GALLIC GIRL. 161 Fearing that the conversation might turn into a quarrel, the marquis said : - If Darling does not dine at the Bar- fleurs's Saturday, they should be advised- he said, addressing his wife timidly. The. marquise replied in a cutting tone : - She shall dine at the-Barfleurs's. - I cannot, even if I wished quietly explained the girl. - - I have no gown. No gown? And your pompadour gown... what does that signify? It signifies that I had two years ago a so-called evening dress... mousseline de laine studded with little bouquets... which you designate as my pompadour gown. -Well, then? "Well, then,. as I have lengthened by two heads in two years, and my gown hasn't lengthened as I have, it comes to the calf of my leg... and that's how I have no gown. - It will be lengthened... - It has been lengthened three times. - How is it that you haven't anything to put on? It's incredible... you haven't one gown ! 162 A GALLIC GIRL. Yes, I have four gowns... And that's not enough? Can't you understand exclaimed Darling, impatiently -- that it isn't with five louis a month for my toilet, counting my shoes, my gloves, my horses, my riding habits and everything else. . . that I can have a full deck of gowns ! M. de Bray intervened : Order what you will... and send the bill to me. -Thanks, father. I'll order a little white gown for the prince's ball. The marquise's voice was raised, threat- ening and acute : - I forbid you to say the prince's ball ! And after a silence, she added : - Then it is understood that you are coming to that dinner? - No protested Darling no ! Mme. de Bray reflected a moment : - In that case, you will go to Barfleur while you are out on horseback... - To do what? To say yourself to Mme. de Barfleur A GALLIC GIRL. 163 that you cannot dine with her Saturday... that you are dining at your Aunt de Lau- nay's. That I did not know this when I accepted for you. - Yes replied Coryse, laughingly - it's understood. I will tell a little tale which will put everybody in trouble. . . you, Aunt Mathilde, Uncle Albert, in fine, every- body ! And rising from the table : - You allow me?. . . have to dress. . . and if I go to Barfleur and return for the lecture, I have only the time to trot. . . - Yes said the marquise, with maj- esty I allow you this time to quit the table, but don't imagine that you can estab- lish a precedent from this. - But exclaimed Coryse, archly - - I do not care to be at table till the end. I do not care to go over there and to return for the lecture. It will be simpler for me to remain. Old Jean could carry a letter. Anyway she asked, with laughing eyes why do I go over there? It isn't natural that I should go. 164 A GALLIC GIRL. And, brusquely, she sat down. - You shall go ordered the marquise, becoming irritated, little by little. - No... I had as lief not go*., you must have some afterthought in sending me there... She stopped an instant, and continuing, said : - At the Barfleurs's. - No affirmed Mme. de Bray, redden- ing. The marquis tried to pacify matters. - Why do you not go, Darling, since your mamma wishes you to go. -Hum! said Coryse, kicking her stepfather's leg under the table as a warn- ing. It was too late. The marquise had heard, and the word mamma applied to her always exasperated her. Furiously she addressed her husband : - Really she began you... Hum!... hum!... hum!... hum!... sang Darling in a scale. The marquise turned toward her. A GALLIC GIRL. 165 - Go out of the room ! . . . and do imme- diately what I have told you to do... do you hear me? - Yes replied Coryse, folding her napkin with affected slowness. As she went out she murmured between her little pointed teeth that anger closed a little : Oh, if only M. d'Aubieres was not so old. IX. When she arrived in the courtyard of the Barfleur palace a Louis XIV. palace of brick ahd granite Coryse saw at a window the Vicomtesse de Barfleur, seated before a large table, and busy covering preserve pots. Her work absorbed her so much that she did not hear the horses. Darling, who had thought at first of going near the window and reciting her little speech, reflected that perhaps this would not be polite enough, and dismounted when she was told that "Mad- ame the Vicomtesse is in." She went into the billiard-room and waited for a time that seemed very long. And as she walked up and down the large, A GALLIC GIRL. 167 bare room, without a picture or a vase or a flower, she was saying to herself fu- riously : - I wonder if she is to cover all her jelly pots before condescending to receive me? At last the servant who had received her appeared : - If Mademoiselle d'Avesnes will come? I was looking for the Yicomtesse in the park and she was in the parlor. Coryse thought : No... she was in the kitchen... but probably she thinks that isn't stylish ! And she walked behind the servant, through a long file of desolate rooms. - Brrr ! she said, almost shivering it isn't amusing here! Father Ragon and Mother Barfleur are mistaken if they think that I'll marry " Two Cents' Worth of Butter." The Due d'Aubiere's had asked of Uncle Marc when he first saw little Barfleur near a door, at a ball : - Who is this little man who is of the size of two cents' worth of butter. 168 A GALLIC GIRL. And, at the Brays, and in other houses, the nickname had stayed. The servant made Coryse enter in a small drawing-room more comfortable than the rest of the palace. Seated near the window, her long thin waist tightened into a foulard gown, red and studded with yellow lozenges, the Vi- comtesse seemed to be reading attentively her aristocratic newspaper. At once, the girl thought : 'Tisn't surprising that I had to wait so long. . . the gown for the preserves was gray. . . she went and slipped herself into her finest clothes to receive me ! Oh, my ! They take a great deal of pains for Darling, since Uncle Marc has money. - My dear child said the Vicomtesse, rising when Coryse entered what good oc- casion brings you here? And, without giving her the time to an- swer : - Isn't she pretty in her riding habit ! - Pretty ! said Darling, looking with astonished eyes on her long arms, her long A GALLIC GIRL. 169 hands and her awkward physique that isn't what they say at home. Mme. de Barfleur said : - Yes, pretty. . . pretty and charming ! She pulled the band of tapestry which served as a bell-rope. - Poor Hugues will ^be very sorry if he misses so charming a call ! He went to look at his horses... I will let him know. - It's useless, Madame said Darling quickly I have to go. I have to attend a lecture at four o'clock. The servant entered. - Tell Monsieur le Vicomte. - I came only explained Coryse to tell you that mother, when she said I would come Saturday, forgot that I am to dine with my Aunt de Launay - What ! - - exclaimed Madame de Bar- tieur we cannot get along without you... you must fix it with your aunt... or I'll fix it myself. Darling made no answer. She listened smilingly to the big bell which they were 170 A GALLIC GIRL. ringing to call the young man's attention, and she thought : - It will take him a quarter of an hour to come up the river. . . and in five minutes I'll be gone. - I pray you, my little Coryse insisted the Yicomtessee - - tell me that you will find a way to come... you will be the joy and the soul of the dinner. - I! -- interrupted the child I? ... but when I'm not at ease I cannot say three words ! Mme. de Barfleur asked : - Why should you not be at ease, my dear child? - I beg your pardon exclaimed quick- ly Darling, who blushed - - I made a mis- take... I wanted to say that whenever I am not alone, I am not at ease, because I have no confidence in myself, and you see that I am right not to trust myself. - No... you are a charming young girl, very simple. . . very frank. - Oh, as for that ! And rising Coryse said : A GALLIC GIRL. 171 - I am going. . . I have to return home. - You can wait an instant, and anyway you must take lunch. - I thank you, Madame... I am already late. The Vicomtesse rose, too, and as Darling, surprised by this exaggerated politeness, asked her not to disturb herself, she replied : - I want to see you on horseback. My son says that you are adorable on horse- back ! - Biff thought the girl. There it is, decidedly ! They are all agreed ! At the moment when old Jean led to the stoop the two horses, the Vicomte de Bar- fleur entered the courtyard. He took the hand which Darling extended to him, and bending respectfully, pressed it to his lips. Little accustomed to this manner of doing things, she almost burst out laughing. Then, comparing the manners of the mother and son with what they had been to her fif- teen days earlier, a great disgust came to her, and she almost thought aloud : ' ' What horrid types they are." 172 A GALLIC GIRL. When Coryse approached the tall mare that she always mounted, the Vicomte hur- ried, clasping his two hands and extending them to Darling that she might rest her foot on them. She stared at the frail young man, who bent his miserable little back and his thin neck, surmounted by an enormous head, and considering his thin arms which made empty the gray checked sleeves of his English coat, she said to herself : - Sure ! - - he'll drop me on the way ! And gently, with the most graceful air that she could give to her refusal, she re- plied, pointing to old Jean, who held the two horses : -No... if you would rather hold the other horse for an instant? I am very awk- ward. I can only mount with Jean... with you I'd fall. And as he insisted : - You cannot imagine how heavy I am... a piece of lead ! She placed the tip of her boot in old Jean's hand, and flew to almost three feet above the saddle. Then, bowing to the A GALLIC GIRL. 173 mother and the son, she quitted, her supple, undulating body following gracefully the pace of her mare. As soon as she was out of the park, Dar- ling turned into the forest. She was anxious to gallop into the beautiful green alleys, and shake off the #nger which went up to her head and her heart. Were not they ever to leave her alone? It was only a fortnight ago that they were commanding her to marry M. d' Aubieres ; now they wanted her to marry little Barfleur, and this idea tormented her, not only because of the new r struggle which she would have to bear, but because it wounded her self-love. She had been grateful for the offer of M. d'Au- bieres, although she did not think him handsome; but Barfleur's offer would hu- miliate her. In the first place, she knew that when she w r as without any money, Two Cents' Worth of Butter had never accorded to her any other attention than that which a w r ell-bred man owes to a young girl whom he meets in his parents' drawing-room. Then she 174 A GALLIC GIRL. thought this fellow badly formed, with his enormous mustache and his thin legs, im- measurably bent by abuse of horseback riding. In her view, the Due d'Aubieres was the great d'Aubieres, whereas Barfleur was Little Barfleur. There was all the difference. Healthy and solid, Darling had an in- stinctive horror of unhealthy people. And, following the wide path which led to the road of Pont-sur-Sarthe, she thought : " He disgusts me ! If he ever kissed me as M. d'Aubieres did I'd slap his face with my two hands... I couldn't do otherwise... it's very annoying. If I refuse again mother will go forme! ... the refusal ought to come from the Barfleurs. . . Oh, that brute of a Father Ragon. . . he's arranged all this ! I was right to fear the Jesuits." She stopped before the road that the sun made white. "It's atrocious to go on that road to Pont-sur-Sarthe ! I'll take the little path behind the furnaces." She made the mare enter into a little path A GALLIC GIRL. 175 which almost fell perpendicularly between the forest and the forges. At a turn in the path she saw, at a distance of a hundred yards under her, a man on horseback, talk- ing to workingmen seated on the ground by the woodside. Oh ! she said, turning toward old Jean -- I have missed the lecture. There the workingmen are lunching. It is four o'clock! Hello... this looks like Count Axen. Yes, Miss Coryse, it's surely Count Axen. Darling lost sight of the group for a mo- ment, but soon she heard distinctly voices ascending to her : - Yes the prince was saying with his musical accent yes, it is a very well made profession of faith... and if I were a voter in this district I would not hesitate to give my vote to the one who wrote it... Darling had just turned on the road. - Oh she exclaimed it is you, Mon- sei... She stopped, guessing vaguely that he 176 A GALLIC GIRL. preferred not to be called thus, and he thanked her with his eyes, replying : - Yes, Miss, it is I ! - Here, sir, said one of the workmen, here is a young woman who thinks as you do. What is it? asked Coryse. - This gentleman says, as you do, that in our place he would vote for M. de Bray. Of course said Darling, convincingly unless you want M. de Bernay to be elected. - We don't. Well, since you know that Charlie won't pass... Yes, it's true, but it's annoying to think that M. de Bray is a Vicomte. It's annoying to him, too said Dar- ling, laughing but it isn't his fault. -Then why does he sign his poster "Vi- comte deBray." Because it's his name. And, looking at the numerous bottles, the sausages and the cheeses on the grass, Dar ling asked, A GALLIC GIRL. 177 - Is this your everyday lunch? A workman, black and hairy, rose, and pointing to Count Axen : - He is treating. . . And he added : - Because we kept his horse while he was visiting the forges. * Old Jean, red and perspiring, looked at the bottles with a softened eye. Coryse noticed it, and indicating him to one cf the men : - If you wish to be very good, give him a glass of something. The workman took a bottle, and said : - If we didn't do it before, it's because we didn't dare. Old Jean came : - I won't refuse he said -- for I am terribly thirsty. I am sure you are thirsty, too, Miss Coryse. - If you would like to drink, suggested the workman who held the bottle. - I'll accept said Darling, extending her hand. - Wait a minute... for you I'll rinse the glass. 178 A GALLIC GIRL. He went to the fountain and returned, asking : - Is it beer or wine that you wish? - Wine... She extended her glass, saying in a clear voice : - To your health. The workmen rose : - We ought to drink to the health of the one who treats us observed one of the men, designating Count Axen. - And I - - replied the prince propose the health of the candidate. - That's it exclaimed Coryse, heed- lessly to Uncle Marc's health. One of the workmen asked : - Then you are M. de Bray's niece? - Yes said Darling looking at the prince, who laughed at her slip. The workman said : - We know you well, but we didn't know your name. The little boys know you much better than we do ! And, turning toward Count Axen, he continued : A GALLIC GIRL. 179 - Since Mademoiselle always has some- thing for them in her pockets. At Christ- mas she brought a box of playthings which filled her carriage. His hard little eyes softened a little and he concluded : - If all the rich werejike Mademoiselle and you, it would be much better, but there are people who do not want to have the least suspicion that there is misery in this world. I know such people. So do I said Darling involuntarily, thinking of her mother. Then she asked of Count Axen : Are you returning to Pont-sur-Sarthe? - Yes, will you permit me to accompany you an instant? - Yes. And at once she proposed : - Only it would be better to take the road in the forest. This one is too full of rolling stones. When they had disappeared under the trees, Coryse heard the voice of the work- man saying : 180 A GALLIC GIRL. - I have an idea that these little people are engaged to be married ! She turned toward the prince laughingly : They are talking of us ! He bent courteously : - I am sorry that they are mistaken. - You are sorry?... what a beautiful thing politeness is ! ... Can you imagine the head that I'd have if I were made up as a queen ?. . . Can you imagine it ? Oh, Lord ! . . . What would you do with me? And a little while after she added : - And what would I do with you? He laughed : - How old are you, Miss Coryse? - I was sixteen in May... and you, Mon- seigneur? - I'll be twenty-four in a week. Then, scrupulously, he asked : Does the marquise allow you to go out with a young man? Oh, no. - Well, then. - You ! . . . Oh, you are a sovereign. . . a sov- ereign is not a young man... he don't count. A GALLIC GIRL. 181 She blushed, and began again : - That is... I mean, he counts too much. . . to count. And, changing the conversation, she asked : - Aren't you afraid to be captured and led to the frontier when you, a foreigner, go into reactionary politics as you do? - Oh, my reactionary politics is an ano- dyne. It consists in telling workmen that if I were they I would vote for your uncle. If I were in your place I would be careful. I wish M. d'Aubieres was here, he would tell you what you could do and what you could not do... Because you seem to me to be very young. . . Do you take an interest in me? asked the prince, laughing cordially. - Interest... without interest. - That's something. Well, see how one may be mistaken. I would have sw^orn that I was displeasing to you. - And you were exclaimed Coryse, frankly until a moment ago. Now you seem to me to be a good fellow. 182 A GALLIC GIRL. Then we are friends? Yes. And, correcting herself: Yes, monseigneur. . . I beg your par- don... I do not know how to talk to you. -Why not? - Because I do not say Monseigneur often enough, and I never say Your High- ness. - Don't bother about that. And now that we are friends, will you tell me why we were not friends before... that is you, for I had not the same repulsion, I assure you. - Yes, I will tell you. The reason is, that instinctively I do not like strangers... and I detest Protestants... and as you are both, you understand. I understand. . . and what do you re- proach strangers for? - For not being Frenchmen. - And Protestants? - A lot of things... they are hypocrites... and miserly! Naturally, there are excep- tions. . . A GALLIC GIRL. 183 - Naturally. . . like me. She laughed. -Not you only... others... but I am talk- ing of the mass of Protestants... of the Pro- testants of France, the only ones that I know. - 1, seeing the sort of repulsion that I inspired in you, had imagined that you took me for a spy. -Oh, Monseigneur! I don't believe in spies... because one meets them often where they are not at all... it's like mad dogs that policemen kill to get a reward. . . and who are no madder than I am. And, returning to the subject that inter- ested her, Darling declared : -Anyhow... it's very good of you to work for Uncle Marc's election. You need not be grateful to me for that. The conversation which you heard was purely accidental. These men had kept my horse while I visited the forges. I did not know which one had held it. If I had given one coin it would have caused a fight. So I went to the inn and ordered lunch for 184 A GALLIC GIRL. them. They offered a drink to me, and while drinking with them I talked of the candidates. You see my propaganda is very limited. -It's useful, anyway. You'll see how gentle Uncle Marc is. I am sure that now that he has returned you will find our house much less a bore. - But protested the prince I never. . . Darling interrupted him. - You can't make me believe that it didn't bore you!... And now, Monseign- eur, Uncle Marc's socialistic proclamation does not shock you... They say it is social- istic. - But I am a socialist ! - Oh said the girl don't say that at Pont-sur-Sarthe... Ah ! You are a socialist, Monseigneur, and it won't prevent you from becoming a sovereign? - I hope not... but if it annoys me... I'll pass... Is that the right term? - Yes, Monseigneur. It will be easy for me... I have six brothers... and you, Miss Coryse, were you A GALLIC GIRL. 185 making an electoral tour when I had the pleasure of meeting you ? -No... I had been on an errand at the Barfleurs's. Ah... M. de Barfleur is a little thin man, isn't he? - Oh, thin, yes ! - Dressed in the English style ? - The English style of Pont-sur-Sarthe, yes. -And he has a fine palace, that little man? - Fine enough, but it's his mother's palace. - Is his mother agreeable? Oh, no !.. she's a tall woman who poses., andboney... and majestic!... with a coun- terfeit sad air. . . an air as if misfortune had just come to her ! I always feel when I talk to her like calling her "Unfortunate Prin- cess," and the little fellow is called in this district "Two Cents' Worth of Butter." As Count Axen laughed, Darling ex- plained : I am not witty, you know. . . I am 186 A GALLIC GIRL. not... but I have no affection for the Bar- fleurs ! - They are only mother and son in the family? Oh, Lord! ... Isn't that enough! - I shall probably meet them at the ball which your mother is to give ? - Sure, you'll meet them... but why should you care ! - It pleases me to meet provincial society. What's the use? If you knew how small, and gossipy, and what a nuisance it is, how far above it all you are. - But I am not above anything. - Outside of it, if you prefer. . . I think, Monseigneur, it would be better not to say that we were out alone together. - So you fear gossip ? - Oh, not at all. . . but I fear that mother will scold if she learns this. Then what am I to do? - Not to tell it... I won't tell unless they ask... and as they won't ask... - True, there is no probability that they may guess our meeting. A GALLIC GIRL. 137 If perchance they guessed, we will say yes... - We would say yes. - It's understood, and now that we have to separate, I beg your pardon again, Mon- seigneur, for all my faults against etiquette. And she added, laughing : And I bow profoundly to Your High- ness. The little prince took off his hat and re- plied, laughingly: I bow profoundly to Miss Darling. X. For eight days, Darling never made a step out of doors without meeting little Bar- fleur. Often, too, he came at Bray's under pretext of errands from his mother ; and, one night when she went into the parlor at dinner time, Coryse found him in- stalled between M. and Mme. de Bray. She had seen at six o'clock the Vicomte arrive in his little cart, but she thought that he had gone, and she stopped astounded. - M. de Barfleur consented to dine with us said the marquise, in an apparently charming humor we will escort him back to-night. As long as the heat lasted, M. and Mme. de Bray habitually went out carriage riding A GALLIC GIRL. 189 after dinner, taking Darling with them. Seated in the landau opposite her parents, she dared neither to move nor to laugh, and remained immovable and bothered, as she always was in the presence of the marquise. When Marc de Bray came, his face ex- pressed at sight of little Barfieur an aston- ishment so great that Coryse laughed. And, as her mother took the Vicomte's arm to go to the dining-room, she said* to Uncle Marc, who seemed discontented : - You didn't expect that, did you? He replied, without appearing to notice the anxious looks of his brother : - Then, he is one of the household at present, Two Cents' Worth of Butter? - Not yet said Coryse, laughing - but he is trying ! Uncle Marc stopped short : - What do you mean? he asked harshly. M. de Bray said in an undertone : - Go in, children, go in ! Well said the marquise in a bitter 190 A GALLIC GIRL. tone, pointing to little Barfleur, who was standing by his chair what prevents your coming? M. de Barfleur is waiting for you... From the beginning of the dinner, the Vicomte,' placed opposite Coryse, looked at her with an air of ecstasy. The girl, who was short-sighted, did not even suspect this, but Marc de Bray noticed the affectation and it irritated him. His irritation became so apparent that Darling asked : -What's the matter to-night, Uncle... you look cross? Vexed, he replied : - Nothing. .. that is, yes... I have a headache. But, in spite of his pretended headache, he began to talk with his niece, without permitting her for an instant to turn her head from him. Displeased by this attitude, which she thought discourteous to her protege, the marquise tried several times to recall Dar- ling to the general conversation, but always Darling avoided it. Then, seeing that she A GALLIC GIRL. 191 could obtain nothing by skill, Mme. de Bray decided to break the glasses : - Coryse, your behavior is absolutely distasteful to me... you make such a noise that we cannot hear one another. The girl hushed, without even finishing the phrase that she had begun, and did not open her lips again. The marquise said : - I do not prevent your talking... your replying to M. Barfleur, who says that. . . Darling replied, in a soft and polite tone : - M. de Barfleur talks of hunting and of races... and these are things that I hate, and about which I understand nothing. - And of what do you wish to talk, Mademoiselle? asked little Barfleur. She replied in the same modest and sub- missive tone : - Of nothing, sir... I can stay without talking of anything. - One wouldn't have thought it a moment ago, -- remarked Mme. de Bray with an acute voice. Coryse replied : 192 A GALLIC GIKL. - It is true... I have been turbulent... I beg pardon... And lowering her eyes obstinately on her plate, she remained silent until the end of the dinner. When, in the billiard-room she had served the coffee, Darling went to sit on the stoop in a large bamboo chair and rocked while looking at the stars which seemed pale in the still clear sky. She was drawn from her torpor by her mother, who came wearing her hat : - What... you are not ready ! The car- riage is ready... you are so heedless... so careless. - Pshaw replied the girl without mov- ing go along. . . I will be ready when you return to take what you shall have forgot- ten. Uncle Marc laughed frankly, and M. de Bray turned his head to hide the smile which drew his lips in spite of himself. The marquise, become purple, asked threat- eningly : What are you saying? A GALLIC GIRL. 193 She replied without emotion : - I say that every night somebody re- turns to the house for something that has been forgotten. She added in a low voice : And to-night somebody will return twice ! She was alluding to one of the little ways of her mother. The marquise thought that nobody had divined them. So profound was her conviction that she deceived every- body ! Adoring luxury, display, everything which in her opinion should dazzle and fas- cinate the public, Mme. de Bray had by tormenting her husband obtained a trans- formation of her carriages and liveries which had been pretty and simple as long as they had been selected by him. The landau, with blue body, spotted with enormous shields embossed, and red running gear was grotesque, but the marquise felt happy only when she traversed in it all Pont-sur- Sarthe. It was for this reason that she compelled Coryse to go out with her. When 194 A GALLIC GIRL. the girl did not go out, the victoria was used, and the victoria was a much more modest wagon. When Mme. de Bray, seated in an effective pose in the yelling landau, with scintillating harness, could parade before the restaurants of the Palais Square at the vermouth hour, her joy was at its height. At six and at eight the tables which covered the sidewalk were crowded with people. The military officers of Pont- sur-Sarthe met at Gilbert's, the stylish restaurant. And, instead of letting the coachman take a beautiful macadamized street which went directly out of the city, Mme. de Bray gave orders to pass by the square, paved with horrible little slippery stones. Oftener, at the entrance of one of the little streets which took her away from the preferred district, she shuddered brusquely and ordered a return to the house. Darling knew well her exclamations : "Oh, I have forgotten my umbrella," or "my cape," or "my muff," or "my hand- kerchief," which compelled the landau to A GALLIC GIRL. 195 pass a second and even a third time before the cherished restaurants. She had a profound horror of these exhi- bitions, and when she saw the curious faces turned toward the carriage, when she heard the noise of sabres and spurs of officers who rose to salute, she lowered her eyes, discon- tentedly, saying to herself : - Mustn't they make fun of us ! And she was irritated at being mingled with the manoeuvres which made her mother ridiculous. The marquis and his brother had also observed what the coachman and the ser- vants called u a false start," but they had never communicated their reflections on this subject, and Darling's reply surprised and amused them. The marquise walked toward her daugh- ter, pale, with hissing voice, and asked : - Why shall we return to-night twice... why? - Because replied Coryse, after she was certain that little Barfleur, who aifected to be searching for his hat, could not hear, 196 A GALLIC GIRL. - to-night you have Two Cents' Worth of Butter to exhibit. . . But, while she was explaining this, she thought that she would in a moment pass before everybody by the side of the vicomte in the blue landau. Nothing more was required at Pont-sur-Sarthe to make people believe that she was to be married to him. She had not until now thought that she amounted to something. In her own eyes she remained the little Darling whom no- body took seriously. The offer of M. d' Au- bieres and the insinuations of Father Ragon had taught her that she was now a young girl whom the former loved and whom the protege of the other would pretend to love. Before letting her mother begin a scene, Darling added : -Anyhow, don't bother about me... I am not going out... I am tired. - This is not true... you are never tired. - Have it your way. . . it is a pretext, but without any pretext I am not going out to-night. - You will go out. A GALLIC GIRL. 197 I ask your permission to stay. Put on your hat. And as Darling did not move, she seized her wrists violently. The child disengaged herself, softly : - This intimate little scene before a stranger is ridiculous. The marquise turned toward M. de Bar- fleur, suddenly changing her convulsed face into a smiling physiognomy : - Oh, M. de Barfleur is almost one of the family ! - Possibly replied the girl but not quite of the family... and one of the prov- erbs that you quote most often is that one should wash... - That's enough. While the marquis and Two Cents' Worth of Butter were taking their coats and their sticks, and waiting for the signal to go, the marquise said, with a graceful air : - If I insist on your accompanying us, the reason is that I do not think it well that you should remain alone in the house. 198 A GALLIC GIRL. - 1 always do. Anyway, I am not alone, since Uncle Marc is here. - But your uncle will probably go out. Marc de Bray replied drily : - You know very well, my dear sister, that I never go out at night. - Then I confide Corysande to you. Nervously Uncle Marc replied, shrugging his shoulders : - You may be sure I will take good care of her. I won't let her soil her clothes or play with the light. And as little Barfleur, bent over the hand that mechanically Coryse had extended to him, kissed it at length, he took his niece's arm, saying : Come, Darling.' When they were in the parlor Coryse said laughingly, to Uncle Marc : - There was trouble to-night, eh? Yet I was not indispensable, since there was a third person to compel the use of the landau. And at once she added, seeing that her uncle sat by the lamp and opened his news- papers : A GALLIC GIRL. 199 -You know if you have to work, you need not feel obliged to remain here with me. - 1 was going to say the same thing to you. - Oh, as for me, whether I do my work here or elsewhere, its all the same. Only you ordinarily work in your room when father goes out. He replied, laughingly : -It's true, but then you are not particu- larly recommended to me as you are to-day. Coryse took the tall silk canvas covered with animals and odd warriors which she was copying from designs of Bayeux, and sat by Uncle Marc. In a moment he interrupted his reading to look over his newspaper at the little curly and attentive head bent on the canvas. -Darling he asked suddenly when I said before dinner, while talking of that young dude: "Is he of the household now?" you replied: " Not yet, but he's trying to be. " Yes said the girl. 200 A GALLIC GIRL. Well said Marc, hesitating a little I did not understand what you meant. I meant that Two Cents' Worth of But- ter would like to marry me. The Vicomte, startled : I had half guessed that... but I could not... and you talk of it with such calm- ness! Marry him... it would be absurd... it would be monstrous. Oh, you maybe calm about it... he won't marry me replied Darling, laugh- ing. Ah murmured Uncle Marc. So much the better. She looked at him affectionately. You are very good to care so much about things that concern me. She remained silent a moment, then said : Yet you are the cause that he wants to marry me. I? - Yes, as soon as they knew that you had inherited so much money they said that I would be very wealthy, that you would give me a dowry and all your fortune. A GALLIC GIRL. 201 - It is true. How about your children? My children ? . . . I have no children ! No, but when you will be married. I am not to be married, Darling. I am too much afraid of getting a wife like. . . He would have said ' i like your mother ; ' ' but stopped and said : Like some that I know. No... I am not trustful, and I'll stay a bachelor. Oh, so much the better. Then, if you wish... - If I wish? - I'll go and live with you, I'll keep your house. I don't want to marry, either. . . but when I get to be twenty-one, I am not to stay here certainly. And seeing that Uncle Marc seemed moved : - Not one day after I am twenty-one... in spite of poor papa, who is so good, and who will miss me. I know very well that my absence will make things here easier for him, but he'll regret me anyway. Surprised, the Vicomte asked : 202 A GALLIC GIRL. - You say that you will quit here. . . where will you go ? - I have always thought that I would ask Aunt Mathilde and Uncle Albert to take me back with them, but if you wanted me I would be so happy. I like you so much. . . more than I like papa. And in her warm voice she finished, bend- ing over him with tenderness : - I adore you, you know ! He said, a little pale : - I do not deserve to be adored, my little Darling. Oh, yes ! - Instead of keeping house for your old bear of an uncle, you will marry. . . you will have a lot of little kids who will yell and advantageously replace Gribouille and old Jean. She replied, seriously : - I am sure that I shall never marry... yes, sure... I cannot explain why... but nobody pleases me. - Nobody? How can you tell? Poor Aubieres is certainly a handsome fellow, A GALLIC GIRL. 203 intelligent and good, but he is beginning to fade; as for the other, he is a little mon- ster. Coryse laughed : Gro and tell this to Mme. Delorme. - So you know the little scandals. Well, what Mme. Delorme likes in Barfieur is his name, his title, his English dress, his horses and his castle. She is a simple little goose. - 1 know it. But these things are things that some other person might like too. I know that I will never love any- body. He asked, anxiously : - Then perhaps you already love some- body? - Not on your life ! - - exclaimed Dar- ling, with such conviction that Uncle Marc smiled, entirely reassured. She continued : -No... nobody pleases me... for a hus- band. There is, for instance, Paul de Lussy, whom everybody thinks so hand- some... and M. de Trene, for whom the 204 A GALLIC GIRL. women fight... I wouldn't have them... I know very well that it is ridiculous, that I haven't the right to be hard to please, with my phiz. - With your phiz? asked Uncle Marc, in surprise. - - What do you mean? I mean that I am homely. He said, in surprise : -Homely? She replied, sadly: Oh, I know very well... it bothers me enough ! - It's your mother that put that into your head... but you are pretty, very pretty, do you hear? - You say it to please me... or perhaps you think it because you like me. - Listen, Darling said Uncle Marc I repeat seriously to you that you are, and that you will be in two or three years, a very beautiful woman. Do you think that Aubieres, who has had... As he stopped, Coryse asked : - Who has had what? I mean. . . do you think that Aubieres, A GALLIC GIRL. 205 who knows, would have fallen in love with you if you were not beautiful? No. You ought to know that you are really beauti- ful. . . and you may believe your old uncle ! - Then exclaimed the girl joyfully Darling is a beautiful woman. . . how funny it is, and how glad I anqi that it is so, and now I thank you for having told me about it. But it won't prevent me from keeping house for you. . . on the contrary ! I pray you, Uncle Marc, say yes. And until then, don't go, don't leave me here without you. I can't bear not to see you. Coryse sat on the floor, and, leaning on the Vicomte's knees her little head, which under the pale light of the lamp, resembled a nest of silver moss, she im- plored him plaintively, with her eyes full of tears: - Don't ever go again. As, with a motion almost brutal he tried to rise, she forced him to sit down again by embracing him with her arms : Do you send me away? Why are you thus with me? You are not the same. 206 A GALLIC GIRL. Formerly you would take me on your knees and kiss me ! He replied harshly : - Formerly you were small... now you have passed that age. She said, while two tears fell on her pink cheeks : - One is always of an age to be loved ! - But Hove you replied Marc de Bray - only please sit down. While he was trying to push her away, the doorbell rang. Uncle Marc pushed Darling roughly : - Get up, quickly. . . suppose it is a visitor. She got up and replied, laughingly : -A visitor ringing in so hesitating a manner? When a man rings like that he rings as if he were the cook's lover. The servant came in : It is Count Axen. - The marquise has gone out ex- claimed Coryse. - Admit him ordered Marc, who seemed relieved. A GALLIC GIRL. 207 - Oh said Darling, surprised you receive him? And in a sorrowful tone she added : - We were so well alone together. Then, suddenly looking at her uncle, anxiously : - What ails you, you* are pale... I never saw you look like this. - Nothing replied Marc with embar- rassment it's the heat... in an instant it will be over. He went toward the prince who entered, while Darling followed him with her blue, pensive eye,s. - Monseigneur, my sister-in-law has gone out. My niece will introduce me to your Highness. And as the little girl seemed to be a thou- sand miles from the scene, he said : - Coryse... you have not heard? She came near them, gaily : Oh, you may say Darling, Monseigneur knows. Monseigneur, this is Uncle Marc, for whom you are electioneering throughout the country. 208 A GALLIC GIRL. And addressing the Yicomte, who was listening in surprise : - You do not know... I haven't seen you alone since yesterday... I found Mon- seigneur when I returned from Barfleur ex- plaining to workmen at the furnace why they should vote for you. - Really -- began Marc, -- I am... Darling interrupted him. - Yes... but you know you mustn't say that I met Monseigneur, and that I went out with him in the forest. . . She turned toward the prince and con- cluded : - "With Uncle Marc it isn't the same thing... you can say anything you please to him ! Seeing that the Vicomte listened with a serious air, she added sadly : - Except to-day... to-day I don't know what is the matter with him... he seems out of sorts. -I came said the prince to thank Mme. de Bray for her amiable letter... She wrote to me a while ago. A GALLIC GIRL. 209 - Again ! - - exclaimed Darling, who thought : - Does she write to him twice a day? - She wants to propose to me contin- ued Count Axen, -- invitations for her ball, if I desire to invite some one. She has taken the pains to send- me a list that I have brought back. He placed an envelope on the table, and rising : - Now I will not disturb you longer. . . - But Monseigneur insisted Uncle Marc, with a vivacity that surprised Coryse if you have nothing to do to-night... we should be charmed... Darling went out to order tea ; then went to put Gribouille to bed and see that the flowers had been sprinkled. When she re- turned, in an instant, she saw that the two men were talking of a thousand things that interested them and paid no attention to her. "When at eleven o'clock the prince went out, Coryse asked Uncle Marc : What do you think of him? 210 A GALLIC GIRL. He is intelligent and gentle... And suspiciously he asked : -Why did you tell me the reverse of this? - What reverse? - You said that he was as high as a boot and black. It is true, he is homely. Oh, and who^is handsome, in your view? - 1 do not know. . . you, for instance ! -I! -Yes. I don't say that you are a model of Greek beauty... but I think that you look very well. I don't like little young men. A man never looks like a man be- fore he is thirty-five. -I am very sorry for poor d'Aubieres that you couldn't extend the limit further. I like the little prince. - So do I, but I did not like him before I went out with him. Uncle Marc knit his eyebrows : -Let's talk about that ride with him in the forest. Decidedly your mother is right, you behave like a badly-bred girl. At your A GALLIC GIRL. 211 age you shouldn't be running in the woods with a young man. Oh, ... a king ! -What's the difference?... a king is a man. - If you wish, and then I wasn't alone. - Yes, you were alone-. . . I suppose you will say that Jean was there. . . an old idiot ! Sadly the girl murmured : - How wicked you are becoming. . . how wicked ! - Wicked because I do not applaud your fantastic ideas... because I don't encourage you to flirt in the forest with every passing foreigner. She said, laughingly : Now he's a foreigner... a moment ago you liked him. The Vicomte said : - 1 have enough of your manners. It is perhaps true that I have spoiled you. I have laughed at your attitudes which are not now droll. I have encouraged your bad instincts. If I am the cause of what hap- pens to-day I am very repentant. 212 A GALLIC GIEL. In his harsh voice one felt the hoarse- ness of tears. Darling tried to take his hands, which he withdrew violently. Then, standing straight before him, the prey of an intense emotion which she was trying to conceal, she stuttered feebly : - It isn't possible... how that voyage has changed you, Uncle Marc ! The day when the Barfleur dinner took place, M. de Bray had a frightful cold, which swelled his nose and lips and closed his eyes. He said to his wife that he could not go out. He had a fever and would sleep until morn- ing. The marquise objected : It's a frightful trick to play on the Barfleurs... we are fourteen... Mme. de Bar- fleur told me so. Well? Well, we shall- be thirteen, naturally. It isn't two hours before dinner that one may find a new guest. I am very sorry, but I am too ill to go there. 214 A GALLIC GIRL. And he added, laughingly : - You think that to be thirteen at table makes one of the thirteen die during the year. I am sure that I would die, even if there should be fourteen, if I went out in my condition. - If at least Coryse would replace you proposed the marquise. - Never exclaimed the girl. M. de Bray insisted : My little Darling, it would be so good of you. Oh, no. And then, thinking she had found an excellent pretext to remain, she exclaimed : - I must dine with Uncle Marc. If I didn't he would be alone, since you are going to bed. Uncle Marc, who had not until then seemed to hear a word of the conversation, protested vivaciously : Not at all, what an idea . . . one would think that I need a servant. - No, but you always say that it bothers you to be alone at table. A GALLIC GIRL. 215 - I never said that ! - Oh said Darling it isn't once, it's a hundred times that you've said it. - Well, then, I did not know that I was saying it, and if you were a good Darling you would go to that dinner with your mother. . . you would go to please me. The girl looked at him in profound aston- ishment. How can he she thought after all that he has said to me about little Barfleur, have the idea of sending me there... I who never go anywhere. And she replied : - In any case I could, not go to the Bar- fleurs to-night. - Why? asked Mme. de Bray. - I told you the other day. . . I have no gown. - But the one which your father gives you? - I ordered it for to-morrow. . . it is not finished. Well, we will make up your pompa- dour gown. 216 A GALLIC GIRL. - Now that people are accustomed to seeing me in long gowns, they'll be aston- ished, and they'll be right. She added, laughingly : - Especially since if you do not tie it down people will see my knees when I sit. Uncle Marc rose : - Put on your hat. . . come with me and you shall have a gown. - But said Coryse, still resisting : you have a rage for sending me over there. . . well, I'll go if you wish. And going out of the parlor she said to herself, glancing reproachfully at Marc, who avoided her look : - He will not stay alone with me... but why won't he? The Vicomte brought Darling to the best dressmaker in Pont-sur-Sarthe, a dress- maker whom she knew only by name, and up the stairway of whose house she went with respect. Not only the modest income of Coryse, but the fact that the marquise herself did not employ the great dressmaker, had made \ A GALLIC GIRL. 217 impracticable Coryse's acquaintance with, her. Totally destitute of taste, incapable of discerning the grace of a well-cut gown, from the homeliness of a badly-made one, understanding only the differences of colors or of ornaments, caring only for stuffs, feminine dress for the marquise was re- duced to the simple proposition whether it was effective or not. "When she had said of a gown, "it is not effective," that the gown was delightful was of no importance. For her, tailors and dressmakers whose prices were elevated, were thieves. She admitted only the commercial price of the stuffs and the quantity of yards of it to be used, and it was useless to try to explain to her that the cut changed everything. She had the same views in art. She never could understand that among very wealthy people could be found an individual crazy enough to give 15,000 francs for a portrait, when you could get one for 2,000, and look bet- ter flattered in the latter. A novel, if it were not full of facts and intrigues, ap- peared to her to be "empty." And she 218 A GALLIC GIRL. could not understand how anybody liked Loti who "lacks imagination." So Mme. de Bray bought stuffs and caused to be made, by one-eyed working girls of Pont-sur-Sarthe, gowns which were frightfully unbecoming. Darling followed the same system and arrived at the same result, but her stuffs were better chosen and their form was always the same, a sort of Russian blouse, wherein her elegant little body was only half divined. When Uncle Marc entered, followed by his niece, in Mme. Bertin's drawing-room, Coryse was surprised to see that the sales- women knew him. And at once her little head began to work. "What could Uncle Marc have want- ed with a dressmaker... and a dress- maker who did not dress Mme. de Bray nor Luce de Givry, nor even Mme. de Bassigny? " And while waiting for Mme. Bertin, Dar- ling asked, curiously : - They know you here?... How is it that they know you? A GALLIC GIRL. 219 - Oh, I came... I... I drew costumes for the Lussac ball last year, and... She corrected : - One costume. .. not costumes... yes... I remember the costume that Mme. de Liron wore. - That one and others. -No... that one and not others... it made enough scandal ! - Don't talk so loud ! - Nobody is listening said Darling, pointing to the young women going and coming through the parlors. She remained for an instant absorbed and silent, and then suddenly, as if she were continuing a conversation with herself, said : - Another one who deceives her hus- band, Mme. de Liron ! -Can't you hush! --exclaimed Uncle Marc, looking around him with an anxious air. Please hush, for heaven's sake ! He added, crossly : Young girls should not talk of things that they don't understand, and that they need not understand. 220 A GALLIC GIRL. I know very well that I need not un- derstand... I don't understand anyway, but I hear things... I can't help hearing. 1 don't put cotton in my ears as cousin La Balue does. - One hears only what one listens to. Oh no, I never listen, and I always hear. Sometimes I had rather not hear... the Mme. de Liron occasion for example. . . - I forbid you naming people. There might be a servant here from her house. - And you think the servants of her house don't know what she does? - In any case it is useless for them to hear you tell about it. - Or you, eh? Visibly irritated, she added : - I don't know why you want to talk of Mme. de Liron all the time. Uncle Marc looked at her in astonish- ment. I want to talk of her ! The door of one of the rooms was opened, and little Mme. de Liron, enveloped in a A GALLIC GIRL. 221 cloud of pink gauze, came in like a whirl- wind, followed by Mme. Bertin : I am told that you are here. I will not let you go without greeting you. She shook the Yicomte's hand, and turn- ing toward Darling : Good morning, Mademoiselle Coryse. *. Then returning to Marc : - You come to order a gown? He replied, hesitatingly : - I came for my niece. Mme. de Liron laughed, opening her mouth, the teeth of which lacked splendor. -You are playing the mother... it's touching. And, seeing the reserved air of the Yicomte, she hastened to add : - Accept my compliments. Your daugh- ter is charming. Darling looked as if she had not heard. She regarded the young woman with a sort of avidity. She was a very pretty little person, round and full of dimples. Her brown hair fell in curls on a flat forehead. Her large eyes 222 A GALLIC GIRL. were chocolate, caressing. She had a small mouth which was charming when she did not open it. Her shoulders were white in her gown excessively decollete. Darling saw that Mme. de Liron could be very agreeable. As Marc said nothing, the young woman continued : -You shall have something pink made for her, I hope... only pink becomes complex- ions like hers. . . you would be polite if you told me at least what you think of my gown. He replied, indifferently : -It's quite a success. - Well, one would think from the way in which you say it that it was not to be be- lieved. It?s for to-morrow, for your sister- in-law's ball... We dine together to -night at Barfleur. -No... I dine very little, you know... and at present I am in mourning. - That's so. I haven't seen you since your return. - 1 came back day before yesterday, and cannot yet make calls. A GALLIC GIRL. 223 - I know she went brusquely to touch some goods unfolded on an armchair, and passing in front of the Vicomte, said to him quickly and in a low voice : - But you might have seen me otherwise. Uncle Marc looked furtively at Darling, trying to guess if she had^heard. Very white, her eyes lowered in an im- mobility which was statuesque, the girl seemed insensible. A movement of. her temples alone indicated that she had life, and Marc thought : - She has gone into her blue dreams. . . she has not observed anything. Mme. de Liron turned and asked : - Your brother and your sister-in-law dine there to-night, do they not? - My brother is ill. . . my sister-in-law will go with my niece. - Oh, it will be, if I mistake not, Miss Coryse's first appearance in society. I shall be delighted to dine with her to-night. Darling bowed, thinking : She isn't like me, then. Since I know 224: A GALLIC GIRL. that she is to be there, the thing seems to me to be more bothersome than ever ! Uncle .Marc addressed the dressmaker : - When could I talk to you, Mme. Ber- tin? I am in a hurry. I need a gown for my niece ; I must have it at five o'clock, and it is already half-past one. - I do not need Mme. Bertin ex- claimed Mme. de Liron. And she went back into the room. - Well asked Uncle Marc what could you do for me? You may well know, Monsieur le Yi- comte, that we cannot make a gown by five o'clock ... We can only try one of our mod- els. If it almost fits, it may be easily arranged. - But your models are faded. - The young girls have tried them on... but some of them are very fresh. And looking at Coryse, she suggested : - There is now a little pink gown which... - No exclaimed Darling brusquely no pink... I don't want it! A GALLIC GIEL. 225 Mme. Bertin asked : - Is there a color that you prefer, Mademoiselle ? - I do not care said Darling I will wear anything you wish except pink. And she added : - However, I like white ! One of the young women brought a white silk muslin gown. Mme. Bertin opened the door of a room and, making Coryse enter : - Will Mademoiselle try it on? Seeing that Marc did not move, she asked : - Will you not come in, Monsieur le Yicomte ? Uncle Marc followed the dressmaker and took a seat in the room where Darling was already coming out of 'her gown, delicate in a little short skirt and silk jersey, the jersey on which she tied her stockings. Uncle de Launay, who had taken charge of the physical education of the child, never permitted her to wear corsets, garters or boots. He declared that these objects were homely and unhealthy. Nothing, he af- 226 A GALLIC GIRL. firmed, compressed form and flesh so much as corsets and garters, and nothing hurts the ankle and the instep so much as boots. He admitted the use of corsets and boots to conceal imperfections ; but he had no tol- eration for garters. So Darling had grown freely, and when at twelve her mother had wished to make her waist, as she said, the girl had resisted with a violence so extraor- dinary, that her mother had to yield. Bar- ling said that she would not deform herself on purpose. - I wish to be myself. I do not wish to copy my neighbor's waist. I do not say that I am better, but I like myself better as I am. I don't look as if I had swallowed a stick. And looking furtively at Mme. de Bray's waist, she concluded : - I think that a big bust and big hips with a small waist is horrible. . . it looks like a pillow tied in the middle. When Darling had put on the simple little gown with its filmy skirts falling straight, and its shirred corsage draping her elegant bust, Mme. Bertin exclaimed : A GALLIC GIRL. 227 - This gown fits. . . there are not three alterations to be made... anyway, everything fits pretty waists. . . her waist is pretty, isn't it, Monsieur le Yicomte. - Yes, certainly answered Marc, sur- prised at Darling's transformation. In this elegant and well-made gown, which moulded her beautiful shoulders and her arms yet thin, but pure in design, the girl appeared so absolutely different that Uncle Marc said to himself, at once pleased and annoyed : - They will not recognize her to-night. At this moment the door of the room was opened and Mme. de Liron looked in, saying : - You do not need my advice? - No, thank you replied Marc drily, blushing. The young woman caught sight of Coryse. In presence of this incredible change, she remained petrified. Her pretty laughing face had an expression of wickedness, and, pushing the door violently, she cried to the Yicomte : 228 A GALLIC GIKL. - Well, you are not without amusement. Coryse half closed her clear eyes and said softly : - Mme. de Liron is rather turbulent. But while they were walking a quarter of an hour later in the street, Darling declared without naming the young woman, sure that he was thinking of her : All the same, she isn't much embar- rassed with you... He replied : - Nobody embarrasses her ! The girl shook her head, and said seri- ously : Oh... there are shades of embarrass- ment! XII. As Uncle Marc foresaw, Darling's en- trance in the Barfleur parlor took the pro- portions of a triumph. Mistrustful as she was of herself, she realized the effect that she produced. She even laughed in the face of Mme. de Bassigny, who looked at her with a vexed and stupid air. - It bothers her that I am charming - she thought. As for the marquise, the admiration in- spired by her daughter overwhelmed her. Not at all wicked in reality, but only vain and silly, she enjoyed all that contributed in any manner to make her seem greater. Darling's success nattered her. The long faces of her friend Bassigny and of little de 230 A GALLIC GIKL. Liron pleased her, and she looked benevo- lently at Darling, who received compliments with a stiffness more astonished than timid. The Barfleurs did not see without vague anxiety this unexpected transformation. They thought that if they were willing to give Darling to them when she was only wealthy, they might refuse her now that she was pretty also. And Mme. de Barfleur, irritated at seeing M. de Trene, M. de Ber- nay and Count de Liron attentive to the girl, gracefully called Coryse and made her sit beside her in order to watch her. Dar- ling obeyed docilely. She did not care where she was, since she could not talk with Uncle Marc nor with her father, nor with anybody that she liked. There were her cousins Lussy, Genevieve and her brother; but Coryse had never been friendly with Genevieve, a beautiful girl two years older than she and an expert in all the coquetries of society. At last Mme. de Barfleur, hearing a car- riage roll on the sand of the courtyard, exclaimed : A GALLIC GIRL. 231 - Here he comes ... I was afraid that he would not return ! Darling, who was awaiting with indiffer- ence the coming of the new guest, was astonished to see the Due d'Aubieres enter. And her pleasure was so vivid that she rose with a bound and went up to him saying : - Oh, how happy I am to see you ! The Colonel stopped in surprise : not at all recognizing Coryse in the elegant person who received him so cordially. And when he realized that it was Darling who stood before him, his long serious face expressed so great an astonishment that Coryse, divin- ing the cause of it, exclaimed : - What ! you do not recognize me either? Suddenly she saw that they were looking at her curiously, and heard Mme. de Bas- signy whispering to the marquise : - Your daughter does, not pout at her rejected suitors. Mme. de Bray, irritated by Darling's attitude, replied: - She is ridiculously childish for her age! 232 A GALLIC GIEL. And Coryse thought : ' ' This time they are right ! I have lacked tact. ' ' The Due d'Aubieres was a little put out of countenance. He expected so little to find Darling, and so little to find her almost a woman, well dressed, retaining of the child nothing but her long curls ! But as he looked at her attentively, he became calmer, more resigned than if he had found her as he had seen her the last time. If he had thought for an instant that he was close by the little Darling without wealth, he found himself infinitely sepa- rated from Mademoiselle d'Avesnes become wealthy. She appeared to him like an incarnation of some being loved formerly, a long, long time ago. He examined her with astonished curios- ity, and, little by little, his passion for Dar- ling was attenuated. - What ails you to-night, Colonel? asked Mme. de Bassigny has your voyage tired you? No, Madame... why? A GALLIC GIRL. 233 - Oh, because you look odd ! He bowed : -It's probably a look which is natural to me. Fatigue has nothing to do with it. Mme. de Barneur, who could not place Coryse near her son, had tried to avoid the disquieting presence of the handsome Trene or of M. de Bernay. She therefore installed the girl between the Due d'Aubieres and M. de Liron. During the dinner Darling, glad to be near the Colonel, had talked gaily of things which interested them both : of Uncle Marc, of Gribouille, and also of painting and art things, M. d'Aubieres being much more cul- tured and intelligent than most people in society. And, towards the end, while the conversations became noisy, and nobody was paying any attention to them, Darling told him in a low voice how the Barneurs were paying court to her, the insinuations of Father Ragon, and the little enterprises against which she had to struggle. - And, - - the Due had asked what does Marc say to all this? 234 A GALLIC GIRL. - He thinks that it is idiotic... and yet he wanted me to dine here to-night, and he gave me this gown to come. I do not know what is the matter with him, but he is not acting at all with me as he was formerly. - How is that? - I cannot explain it to you. He is fan- tastic. He is rough with me without my deserving it. It seems nothing, but it is something all the same. - I will see him to-morrow morning. I said good-bye to him in such a hurry. - With regard to that asked Darling, raising timidly her clear eyes on the Due - you are not sorry now, are you ? He replied frankly : - I would not say u not sorry "... but I am wise about it, and I thank you for hav- ing been so reasonable. - So much the better ! After a moment she continued : - You said that you would come to-mor- row to see Uncle Marc. To-morrow is the day of the races. - Yes, but I will see Marc in the morning. A GALLIC GIRL. 235 - You know that at night there is to be a ball at the house. There's another saw !... the little prince whom you sent is very gen- tle. It's for him that the ball is given. You think that my little prince is gentle ? - Yes, now ! I began by thinking him a bore, but we have become good friends. After dinner Mme. de Barfleur asked Darling to serve the coffee, with her son ; then asked : - Ladies, will you permit smoking? Coryse, who hoped that the smoking- room would rid her of Two Cents' Worth of Butter whose phrases, veiled with mys- tery, irritated her profoundly made a wry face, and went in a corner, while Genevieve de Lussy, already a woman of society, flirted precisely, occupying, with little de Liron, the centre of a group formed by the men. After a while, Mme. de Bray whis- pered to Darling : - Don't stay in a corner without talk- ing... you look like a goose. - What shall I talk about? About anything. 236 A GALLIC GIRL. The girl did not know how to talk about nothing, and a purely mundane conversation embarrassed her. She remained silent, seeking uselessly the occasion to say a word. Then she re- nounced trying, and began thinking of other things in spite of the furious looks of her mother. While she was dreaming of Uncle Marc, who at that moment must have been read- ing his newspapers, or of Gribouille, who must have been eating his soup, she re- marked a certain agitation in the parlor. At the end of a discussion on the authen- ticity of a portrait of Henry IV., little Bar- fleur took an enormous lamp which he could hardly carry, and, climbing on a chair, did the best he could to throw light on the painting. The face of the king appeared bony and energetic. And Darling, looking at this homely and sympathetic head, exclaimed, with an amiable air : - Goodness !... there's a man who hadn't a Protestant's mug! A GALLIC GIRL. 237 This was received frigidly, and Darling remembered that the Lirons were Protes- tants. Trying to change the course of ideas, she said : It's on his account, I suppose, that I have a ridiculous name. Little Barfleur askedj How is your name ridiculous? - Corysande ! my name is Corysande ! Didn't you know? - Yes, mademoiselle, but it is not a ridiculous name, it is, on the contrary, a charming name. - Oh, that is a question of taste. - And why is it the fault of Henry IV., if you have that name which you do not like? It's his fault, because it is in memory of the beautiful Corysande. - And seeing that Two Cents' Worth of Butter did not understand, she repeated : The beautiful Corysande... don't you know? He replied : Yes. 238 A GALLIC GIKL. - Oh, you do not look as if you did know. She was the Comtesse de Guiche, the beautiful Corysande. . . and she was the godmother of one of the Avesnes in 1589, and since then all the Avesnes have called their daughters Corysande. It's traditional. Perfectly. But I can't see what Hen- ry IV. has to do with all this. - That's what I said... you don't know- exclaimed Darling, laughing, --Henry IV. is concerned in all this. . . because it is on ac- count of the beautiful Corysande that our ancestors felt flattered in having her for a godmother. . . and the beautiful Corysande is celebrated because Henry IY. . . - Yes, yes interrupted Mme. de Bar- fleur, fearing that her son's ignorance should be displayed. Ignorant herself, she knew the dangers of this, and possessed the silent tact that women have habitually in such cases. The Due d'Aubieres looked at the other portraits, and asked, pointing to a general of the Empire : "Who is this one? A GALLIC GIEL. 239 - This one answered Two Cents' "Worth of Butter, looking at the strong Her- cules resting on his sword in heroic pose this one is my grandfather. _ Oh said Darling, astonished he doesn't look much like you. And continuing her examination of Gen- eral de Barfleur, with benevolent respectful- ness she added : - It is not surprising that these beings did great things. - It is unfortunate - - declared Two Cents' Worth of Butter that these great things were done for the glory of Bonaparte. - For the glory of France, you mean - corrected Darling. - No, - - replied little Barfleur, happy to hold a subject of conversation -- these things served Bonaparte only. And Bona- parte, in the eyes of society, will never be anything other than an enemy of France. - In the eyes of people in society, you mean exclaimed Darling, whose little ears reddened, an enemy of France !... the Emperor. . . and it is the emigrants who re- 240 A GALLIC GIRL. turned from Coblentz who dare to call him thus ! They arrived at a fine result. . . Louis XVIII. Little Barfleur declared with unction : - Louis XVIII. was a great king. - A great king ! - - said Coryse - a great king! that manikin!... the fact is that you do not care about it. . . Louis XVIII. is nothing to you. You defend the king for the same reason that you go to mass. . . it's stylish. You think it is not stylish to be an imperialist because they are all poor and strong. - Thanks for the imperialists, Miss Coryse - - said the Due d'Aubieres, who bowed laughingly. Mme. de Bray rushed toward Darling, and, threateningly, said to her : - You are absolutely ridiculous. The girl replied sincerely : - That doesn't surprise me? But why do they talk against my emperor ! Moreover, you told me to talk, to say anything. . . but talk ! Disquieted at the thought that her son A GALLIC GIRL. 241 might enter into another conversation, Mme. de Barfleur proposed a dance. Trene, M. de Bernay and Count de Liron ran toward Darling. But little Barfleur, who was already near her, took hold of the young girl. Coryse stepped back, say- ing: -No... I... She was going to say " I am to dance with M. d'Aubieres," she motioned to the Due to come to her aid, but reflected that it would be useless. Vague as her notions were on politeness, she understood that she would have to dance at least once with the master of the house. And as Two Cents' Worth of Butter had stopped : - No... nothing... all right! If the descendant of the Barfleurs did not know how to talk, he knew how to waltz marvellously, and Darling felt real pleasure in traversing the immense parlor. Her partner made her pass into a dimly lighted room, saying that there was more space there. 242 A GALLIC GIRL. -But the others? asked Darling - looking to see if Genevieve de Lussy and Mme. de Liron were following. The Vicomte stopped, to call the dancers. - They are coming he said. And he started anew. But they remained alone in the wide, empty room. Mme. de Liron liked to waltz only for spectators, and Mme. de Lussy, who knew her daughter, never allowed her to be at a distance from the maternal eye. - They think Mme. de Liron is very pretty asked Darling. Since the morning the young woman's image haunted her, and she could not re- frain from talking about her. Little Barfleur replied : - It's especially your Uncle de Bray who thinks her pretty. - Oh said Coryse gravely. - But you, Mademoiselle, what do you think of her? - Too round... and you? _ I _ replied Two Cent's Worth of But- ter, pressing Coryse against his shoulder A GALLIC GIRL. 243 I never look at her. I see only you. You are so beautiful. . . In a low voice he added : - It is you whom I love ! Darling had not heard. Lost in the pleas- ure of waltzing she was frankly leaning on little Barfleur's arm. Emboldened by this abandon, he bent toward her and murmured in an accent which he did his best to render passionate : I love thee ! He spoke so near to her that his breath stirred her hair. Stupefied, she stopped short, and starting backward, exclaimed in- dignantly : Well! That is cheeky ! XIII. - Will you exclaimed the marquise in the library where M. de Bray and Marc were smoking, - - will you tell Corysande that she must come to the races. She has just declared that she would not go. - But said Darling, coming after her mother - - I do not see why I should go to the races... I never went before. - Then you were only a child. The marquis decided to talk : - Why don't you go, Darling ? You like horses so much. - It's precisely because I like horses that I do not like races. It doesn't amuse me to see a horse fall with a broken leg... as it happened at Auteuil two years ago. A GALLIC GIEL. 245 - But an accident like this doesn't always happen. -Like this, or something else... but it isn't for that only that I do not want to go to the races. - You should not say I do not want - observed M. de Bray. Docilely Darling corrected : That I would like not to go to the races. -Why is it then? Because it bothers me to be forever among a lot of people. I like to be alone and quiet. . . with animals. She looked affectionately at her stepfather and at her uncle, and finished : - Or with you... This morning, mass!... in a moment races ! . . . to-night, the ball ! . . . it's too much for a day. Mme. de Bray lifted her eyes to heaven : -The mass!... She puts the mass in the same category as the rest. Darling straightened up : - Yes, certainly. . . when it is mass like this morning's... you would not let me go 246 A GALLIC GIRL. to St. Marcien under the pretext that you needed Jean in the house. -Well? - Well, you brought me to the Jesuits 's, and the mass there is not a mass. It's a five o'clock tea in the morning. To-day you spoke to more than fifty persons. - But you also spoke to them. I do not see why you complain. That is exactly what I complain of. - I don't see what there is to complain of in meeting society people. - It is a question of taste. It aggravates me ! When I shall have seen it at the ball to-night I will have had enough of society forever. If I am forced to go to the races, surely I shall sleep in the parlor to-night. - One cannot obtain anything from that girl said the marquise.] And she went out. - I do not understand began M. de Bray - - why you do not go to the races with your mother. - Why don't you understand? I'd like to see you go to the races ! A GALLIC GIRL. 247 - It's different with me. I have a ter- rible cold, I have just got up, and I am hardly presentable. - And I haven't recovered from yes- terday's dinner. Uncle Marc asked : Well, how was the dinner? - Bothersome. . . and yet, happily, M. d'Aubieres was there. If it had not been for him... - Ah ! - - said the marquis Aubieres has returned? -Yes... replied Uncle Marc --he came this morning while you were out. He wanted to see you and apologized for not coming back the other night to say good- night to your wife and you, after his walk with Darling in the garden. . . and he added, laughingly, - - Do you know what Darling said to him?... don't try to guess... She said, gently: "I would rather you would know why I do not wish to marry you... well, I do not wish to marry you because I am certain that if I did, I would deceive you." 248 A GALLIC GIRL. - Oh said M. de Bray, laughing. Coryse shrugged her shoulders. - So you think that's funny... it would have been better to let him believe a lot of things, I suppose... I don't see that he could have thought anything worse said Uncle Marc. She asked, anxiously : - Is he cross about it? - He!... he doesn't even think of it. - I was saying to myself : "It isn't pos- sible that he is cross with me... he was too amiable with me during the dinner "... for I had the good luck to be seated next to him. - Then, everything went well? - Hasn't mother told you? - I saw your mother at breakfast only. . . you were there ... you know that we did not talk of yesterday. - Well ... I made a bull, all the same . . . firstly, about Henry IV. - About Henry IV. ? asked M. de Bray in astonishment. - Yes . . . because when they were look- A GALLIC GIRL. 249 ing at his portrait I said that he didn't have a Protestant's mug. So, you under- stand, because of the Lirons, it wasn't a success. - It's a strange mania that you have of going for the Protestants all the time ... people who have no other faults than to be a little too virtuous ! They humiliate us. . . - Well said Uncle Marc if you have done nothing else ! - Yes, I did something else, but it was mother's fault. She told me to talk, to talk even if I had nothing to say. Then, as soon as I found something I jumped at it, you may well think. -Let's hear the second bull asked Uncle Marc. - It isn't exactly a bull... but I got angry and said things which I should not have said... about Napoleon. - Oh ! said M. de Bray with a fright- ened air if they attacked Napoleon !... - Yes, you know that I hate that more than anything else. - Then you were not polite? 250 A GALLIC GIEL. - Yes . . . that is ... if you like. . . And she declared, after a moment of silence : - In any case, I was more polite than the master of the house. - How ? asked the marquis in aston- ishment. M. de Barfleur is precision itself. - Not with me ! - What did he do to you ! - It happened while waltzing... he brought me into a gallery, under the pre- text that there was more room there... now let's see what happened... oh, yes... he began by telling me that Mme. de Liron was round... that is... no... I said that... he was repeating to me that I was pretty. As she stopped Uncle Marc asked anxiously : And then? -And then... suddenly... he bent and said : Imitating the concentrated and circum- stantial voice that little Barfleur had bor- rowed for the occasion, she murmured : I love thee. A GALLIC GIRL. 251 The intonation was so droll, that in spite of his discontent Uncle Marc laughed. Coryse, irritated, turned towards him and her stepfather and asked : - You think that it was right? With a conciliating manner M. de Bray replied in a soft voice : - The English talk in that way to God ! Darling replied, deliberately : - Because they are no good. - Well, now said the marquis, discon- tented at his lack of success its England's turn now... you want to put us at odds with the entire world. . . I am not severe, but you have such a way of talking. . . -You must forgive me... it's instinctive. And after a moment she asked : - Is that joke to last for some time? What joke? - Little Barfleur. I do not like to put on airs, but it does not flatter me that people think I am to marry Two Cents' Worth of Butter. The marquis said, timidly : He is gentle ! 252 A GALLIC GIRL. -Gentle - - said the girl-- gentle?... he is grotesque ! He is ridiculously dressed ! He is perfumed. . . yes, he puts perfume. . . white heliotrope, on his clothes. - Well, there are circumstances when a man might use perfume. No, exclaimed Darling A man has no right to smell of anything but tobacco... And addressing Uncle Marc : - It makes you laugh. You think it's funny. Now you are becoming very wicked to me... very wicked. It began long ago... but it has increased since a few days. It began the night that that frightful little Barfleur dined at the house. As the Yicomte tried to protest, she said : - Oh, I am not saying that you are not good to me. You give things to me. You gave me a gown... a very beautiful one. I will put it on to-night, because it is much more stylish than papa's. Yes. You give me things. . . but as for liking me. . . - Yes, I like you. No ! If you liked me would you wish A GALLIC GIRL. 253 to see me marry a monkey like little Bar- fleur? - But I say nothing to... - You say nothing in favor. . . but you say nothing against, either ? ... and I do not want the monkey. She walked toward Unole Marc, and con- tinued, bitterly: - Anyway, it's your fault if they torment me... if they want to marry me... yes... it's your dirty money's fault ! Without it, they would let me alone in my corner, as they did before. And, hiding her face in L her hands, she began to cry. - Don't trouble her said Marc to M. de Bray, who wished to talk to her her nerves hurt her. Let us go, let her cry. . . it will do her good. As they were going out of the library the marquis looked at Darling, who was still crying, and said : - She never had any nerves. All this is not natural. If she were in love with some- body I shouldn't be surprised. 254 A GALLIC GIEL. - You are crazy - - exclaimed Mark - Whom should she love? And, anxiously : -It couldn't be Trene,.. nor Bernay... nor Liron. As his brother said nothing, he asked violently : -Then?... who?... who?... who?... M. de Bray replied : How can you expect me to know? XIV. - Where did Uncle Marc go ? asked Darling, entering the parlor a few minutes before the guests I looked for him every- where and cannot find him. - You know very well that he is closeted to-night said the marquis what do you want of him? - I want to show him my gown. He saw me in it in the daytime only, and I am so much better at night ! -You can show it to him at another time, he is cross to-night. And he added, laughingly : - It seems that everybody has his nerves to-day. Yes said Coryse I saw at dinner 256 A GALLIC GIRL. that he looked strange. What is the matter with him, do you think? -He has a bad temper declared the marquise. Oh protested Darling that is not so. Then returning to her notion : - I will go and look for him. No said Mme. de Bray stay here. . . people are coming already. The joyful face of the girl was darkened : - It is true, it is ten o'clock. Who will be the first to come? I bet it will be the most bothersome. .. it's exactly as I said... it's the Bassignys. It was in fact Mme. de Bassigny, tight- ened in a dazzling silvery gown ; followed by the Colonel, tightened also in a uniform too narrow, which made a fold at his shoulders. Mme. de Bassigny seemed vexed to be the first to arrive. She did not think that it was stylish, and charged the Colonel with this lack of elegance. Then, in a pointed voice, she asked Coryse if her political discussion of the night before A GALLIC GIRL. 257 had not prevented her going to sleep. The girl replied that she had so excellent a faculty for going to sleep, " she slept even after the most bothersome evenings." New arrivals interrupted the conversa- tion. Little Barfleur entered, visibly anxious about the results of his declaration. He confessed to himself that he had feigned too much and had not given the right note. The indifferent reception of Darling, who seemed not to remember anything, reas- sured him. The arrival of Count Axen produced upon him the effect of a douche. He examined him at first with great respect, moved by the presence of a real prince, but soon he forgot the prince and saw only the rival. The coming of this little fellow, younger and not much handsomer than he, consider- ably diminished his prestige. When the orchestra began, Two Cents' Worth of Butter rushed towards Coryse, but arrived before her at the very instant when Count Axen led her away. He saw 258 A GALLIC GIRL. discouraging! y that the prince waltzed mar- vellously. And not only he would have that night the success which was his right, but also success deserved as a man. Of that, little Barfleur could not be consoled. He ran toward Mme. de Liron delight- ful and dazzling in her pink gown and asked for a waltz. But little de Liron desired to be seen by Count Axen, and knew that little men do not give value to women who dance with them. She replied, a little embarrassed : - In a moment... I have just arrived... let me breathe. Then turning to the marquis : - Then it's serious? Your bear of a brother is not here? It's very serious. - And he won't appear? - And he won't appear. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling : He is up there?... above all this noise. Yes. What concern is that of hers, where A GALLIC GIRL. 259 he is? asked Coryse to herself, looking at the young woman, fresh under her aure- ole of diamonds. Nothing in this round doll pleased Dar- ling. But seeing the enthusiasm that little de Liron excited, she said to herself, with a painful effort to understand this admiration which she could not explain : - She must be pretty ! The Due d' Aubieres came to her : - What are you thinking of, Mademoi- selle Darling... you look like a conspirator. Coryse blushed. I am thinking of nothing. - You look as if you were. . . I would say that you looked sombre, if this ugly word could be applied to you. And as the girl was muttering an insig- nificant reply, he asked affectionately : - Are you troubled about anything? No ... I have nothing to trouble me said Darling quickly. And, trying to put an end to his questions, which embarrassed her, she asked : Uncle Marc's election is sure, isn't it? 260 A GALLIC GIRL. - I think so, but lie doesn't seem to care much for his election. I saw him this morn- ing and he didn't say three words about it. He seems to have forgotten all about it. - Ah said the girl, anxiously. And at once she thought : - It's perhaps because he is thinking of Mme. de Liron. The Colonel observed the vague look of Coryse and a little pout on her lips : - Mademoiselle Darling, you are very far from here... very far... in a country that is blue... She replied, without knowing that she was talking : - Not so blue as you think ! Little by little they had come to the large bay windows open on the garden. The night was cloudy, a leaden heat enveloped them. - It is stifling in there said Darling, shaking her heavy hair. And she went out, followed by M. d'Au- bieres. Hello exclaimed the Due there's A GALLIC GIRL. 261 Marc ! He is going and coming peacefully in his room, without suspecting that we can see him from here. Darling looked up and saw the tall silhou- ette of Uncle Marc, dark in the luminous frame of the window. Mme. de Liron came into the garden with M. de Bray. She also saw the Yicomte. She exclaimed, joyfully : It would be a good joke to go up and say good-night to your brother . . . what do you think? - But replied the marquis I do not know. -Yes ... let's do it... it would be so droll. And addressing the Colonel : - Will you come, M. d'Aubieres? - No, madame, I am afraid that my friend Marc would show me the door. - And to me? asked the young woman, smilingly do you think that he would show the door to me also? Without waiting for an answer she turned toward M. de Bray : 262 A GALLIC GIRL. - If I went up ... softly ... by the library stairway ... it would be a good joke, wouldn't it? - Excellent ! muttered Darling in an infinitely impertinent tone. - Escort me M. de Bray, won't you? - Madame, I have to look out for a lot of things exclaimed the marquis, much em- barrassed by the part which the young woman was trying to make him play - - but Aubieres will escort you. - To the stairway said the Due smil- ingly. Coryse remained alone. Trene, magnificent in his uniform, came down the stoop : - At last I may bow to you, Mademoi- selle ! Darling, who was rushing to follow M. d' Aubieres and Mme. de Liron, was dissat- isfied with being hindered in her move- ments. - But you have bowed to me already - she said drily. She had raised her voice. The silhouette A GALLIC GIRL. 263 of Uncle Marc came to the balcony and stayed there immovable. - I bowed to you when I came in, but I could not congratulate you on your pretty gown. Coryse replied nothing, and he continued in a tone full of mystery : - Is it the gown that is pretty? I would not pay an ordinary compliment to you, Mademoiselle. I would not repeat to you what has been said to you a hundred times since last night... but you are... Charming interrupted Darling, laugh- ingly yes, that's understood. And she added, harshly : - And if that is all you have to say to me... M. de Trene replied : - But I would like to ask you to dance with me. - What dance? - Whatever you select. . . The first, if you like? - The first is promised to Count Axen. Again? 264 A GALLIC GIRL. - How again? said Coryse impatiently - are you to count how many times I dance with this or that person? She stopped short. It seemed to her that Uncle Marc was bending over them and listening. But she did not dare to look up. Trene said : -The second waltz, then? -Promised to M. d'Aubieres... do you wish the fourth from now? Count Axen came, shouting : - It's my waltz, Miss Darling. At the window the tall shadow of Uncle Marc was agitated, and Coryse thought : - I will wager that at this moment he has his eyebrows knit. .Mademoiselle asked M. de Trene I would like to have the honor of being in- troduced to Count Axen. Darling, regretfully taking her eyes from the window, turned towards the prince : - Will you permit me, Monseigneur? And as he bowed, she said : - Monsieur de Trene. I am glad to know you sir said Count A GALLIC GIRL. 265 Axen, extending his hand to the officer - we are to be companions next week. I am authorized to assist at the manoeuvres, and I am to walk with you. Then encircling her waist with his arm: - Will you waltz on this wide varanda. . . we can hear the music very well. . . and it is stilling in the parlors. She did not dare to resist, and still feared to displease Uncle Marc, immovable at his balcony. When the prince stopped, he said to Coryse : - I regret not to see your uncle to-night. - He is in his room because he is in mourning she muttered, looking furtively at the window. -He is a charming young man... we have walked together a great deal lately. - Hello thought the girl he has said nothing to me about it. Count Axen said : - M. de Bray has one of the most beauti- ful minds that I know. 266 A GALLIC GIRL. Hasn't he, Monseigneur! exclaimed Darling. - 1 would be glad lie continued if the manoeuvres permit me to go with him. _ Go? asked the girl Go where? - Hasn't he told you? - Yes she said, trying to learn he told me. . . almost. . . -Well, immediately after the elections M. de Bray will travel for two months. -Ah! - He wants to see a great many things. He is trying to do a great deal of good. Your uncle is one of the rare men who spend their lives in beautiful deeds. - Yes, I know said Coryse, trying hard not to cry. The thought that Uncle Marc would go overwhelmed her. At his return, if he were elected, he would go to Paris, where the Brays did not go until the Spring. She would not see him again... not at all. At this moment the Yicomte, leaning on the balcony rail, turned suddenly toward A GALLIC GIRL. 267 the interior of the room. Evidently some- body had just entered. - It is she thought Darling, whose heart was beating. And, as the waltz was finishing, she bowed to the prince and went through the groups of dancers who were returning to their seats. When she entered the. library, she went up the old oak stairway to the apart- ment of the Yicomte, resolved to see, to listen, to learn, in any sort of way, some- thing precise. But suddenly she stopped, discouraged. - No she said to herself - - It would be ugly... and anyway, I know all that I want to know. A rustle of tulle and silk warned her that somebody was coming down. Rushing rap- idly down the stairs, she hid behind the balustrade. Mme. de Liron passed by her and re-en- tered the parlor, saying, in order to indi- cate that she was not trying to conceal her visit : 268 A GALLIC GIRL. -He wasn't glad... just imagine... he almost got angry ! - She lies thought Darling he was charmed... she says that so that people won't know. And going to the Vicomte's door, she opened it without knocking. Seated before his desk, his head resting on his folded arms, Uncle Marc did not hear her enter. In a faint voice she asked : What did she do to you ? At his niece's voice he rose : - What do you come here for? When she saw his troubled face turned threateningly toward her, Darling felt only unlimited tenderness toward her uncle, whom she liked so much. She forgot every- thing. Repeating in surprise : - You are crying. . . what are you crying for? And timidly : - It's her fault, I suppose... The Vicomte said angrily : - I do not know whom you call "her," but please return to your dances and to A GALLIC GIRL. 269 your flirtations ! Go listen to Irene's com- pliments and waltz in the garden with Count Axen since it amuses you. . . but let me stay here alone and quiet. She muttered : -Quiet... crying? - Crying, if it amuses, me... Darling saw two large open boxes. She asked : You are going? -How do you know that I am going? - It is Count Axen who... He laughed : - Oh, you talk of me when you are to- gether? -Yes. He said that you were to travel... And as he made no reply, she asked in a trembling voice : - And what will become of me? Without looking at her he replied in a cutting tone: - I hope you don't think that I could take you with me. . . or stay here to serve as your maid? 270 A GALLIC GIRL. Oh said Darling, whose eyes were full of tears how you talk to me, Uncle Marc! - Why do you come and torment me thus? She stayed a moment without replying ; immovable in the middle of the room, pink in the snowy gown which sketched the pure lines of her little, young and vigorous body. The blonde hair which floated around her gave to her the air of a little fairy, odd and unreal. And, in spite of himself, Marc, who had raised his head, looked at her with an expression of immense tenderness. Too shortsighted to catch his glance, Dar- ling asked, after a long reflection : So you are going away from here, ac- cording to what the prince has said, in order to do beautiful deeds? He shrugged his shoulders. The girl continued : - Well, I could indicate to you a very beautiful deed, not far off , either. And as he made no answer, she whispered : It would be to marry me. A GALLIC GIRL. 271 Become very pale, the Vicomte walked toward her : - What did you say? - You have heard... He replied : -Your jokes are ferocious... and not funny. . . - Jokes ! exclaimed Coryse I love you more than anything, and there are moments when it seems to me that you also love me more than all the rest. . . and so I tell you : ' ' Marry me. ' ' - Darling said Uncle Marc, softly drawing the little girl to his arms Oh, yes. I love you. I love you. I love you. - So you consent? He was covering her with kisses. She sighed : - Oh, how good it is to be kissed by you. Then, in a burst of laughter : "What faces they'll make down-stairs when they know this. Uncle Marc looked at Darling, hesitating to believe that she was his. Bent on her face, he muttered in a kiss : 272 A GALLIC GIRL. - Oh, Darling, if you knew how I have been unfortunate, discouraged and jealous. - Jealous? ... oh, that ... you shouldn't have been. And coming closer to him, she said, caress- ingly and tenderly : - ... It would greatly astonish me if I ever deceived you. END. 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