Part 24

The others, while ridiculing the importance she attached to Leontine's visit, were not the less anxiously looking forward to a similar visit for themselves. For two or three days, at the hour at which Leontine had called on Madame Lacour, all the young ladies kept themselves fully prepared, and constantly on the look-out; she did not, however, make her appearance; but they learned that she had invited Aglaïa to breakfast with her; and in the evening, at the assembly, Aglaïa hardly dared to speak of the breakfast in the presence of Gustave, and she merely said that Leontine was to fetch her on the following day for a walk. Her companions drew themselves up with an expression of mortification. All the annoyance produced by this preference was quite evident: one of them, named Laurette, less proud and more thoughtless than the rest, said to Aglaïa, "Very well, I shall ask mamma to let me call on you at that hour, and I shall be included in the party." Aglaïa, very much embarrassed, stammered out some excuses; she said that Leontine was not acquainted with Laurette, and that she did not know whether such a thing would be agreeable to her. Laurette said that it was all the same to her, that she should find others to walk with her, and immediately made a proposal to that effect to two or three other girls, who accepted it, saying, "Oh! as for us, it does not become us to be so proud." One of the mothers overheard this conversation; fortunately it was not Laurette's, for she would have made a scene. However, the lady in question did make some observations on the imprudence of exposing oneself to insults, together with other remarks full of bitterness, which were repeated by the young people. The evening passed in the most disagreeable manner. Madame Lacour being indisposed, had remained at home, and at night M. Guimont, having called for his own children, also accompanied Aglaïa home. She kept close to him, in order to avoid speaking to Hortense or Gustave, whose displeasure she had noticed, though they had said nothing; and though Hortense, with her accustomed kindness, had several times tried to interrupt the conversation, when she thought it likely to be disagreeable to Aglaïa. Had the latter reflected, she would have felt that the pleasure of being preferred to bear Leontine company was but a poor equivalent for the embarrassment she suffered in the society of those she loved; but vanity blinded her, and she did not see how much she lowered herself, in looking upon such distinction as an honour.

The following day, Aglaïa, dressed in her gayest attire, accompanied Leontine to the promenade. Her manner sufficiently betrayed the pride she felt, at being thus an object of attention, while at the same time it showed her embarrassment with Leontine, with whom she was not at her ease, being constantly afraid of saying something which might appear unbecoming. What was most extraordinary in all this was, that whilst it gave her no uneasiness to make herself ridiculous in the eyes of a great number of persons with whom she was destined to pass her life, the bare idea of appearing ridiculous to a single person whom she scarcely knew, and with whom she would only associate for a couple of months, at the utmost, would have caused her inexpressible vexation. Every one was on the promenade. The mothers passed close to Aglaïa, with lofty and displeased looks, making ill-natured remarks, which she dreaded might reach the ear of Leontine. Some of the young ladies too, assumed all their dignity. The young men all bowed to her; but on that day she thought some of them so common-looking, and so deficient in style, that they were extremely annoyed at the manner in which she returned their salutation, watching, as it were, for the moment when she could do so without being observed by Leontine. The latter had already asked her the names and professions of several; and Aglaïa had answered her with some degree of pain, as they had not very brilliant titles for presentation. When she perceived any grounds for criticising either their persons or their dress, she eagerly seized upon it, fearing that Leontine might suppose she had not observed it. Never before had she discovered so many defects in her friends and acquaintances. At length she perceived at a distance Hortense and her brother. "Oh!" said she, "those two are very amiable." She was dying to introduce them to Leontine, for she fancied they would be as pleased to be acquainted with her as she herself was, for, notwithstanding their disagreements, she really loved them. Besides, she was proud of Gustave, proud of his talents, and of his reputation, and she was delighted to be able to boast of them to Leontine; she began, therefore, to praise him with great warmth, assuring her that he composed most charming verses, and that every one considered him destined to shine in the _very best society of Paris_.

"To do that, my dear," replied Leontine, with the air of one who understood all these sort of things, "to do that, he must acquire a little more style, for at present he looks very much like a schoolboy;" saying this she glanced carelessly at Hortense and Gustave, and began to speak of something else.

Aglaïa blushed, partly for Gustave and partly on her own account, for she felt that she had compromised herself. By this time her two friends were close to her; she would willingly have stopped and spoken to them, and she slackened her pace for that purpose, but Leontine, whose head was turned in another direction, continued to walk on, and Aglaïa followed her, casting towards Hortense, for she dared not look at Gustave, a glance of mingled shame and sadness, which seemed to say, "See, I know not what to do." Gustave shrugged his shoulders at beholding his weak-minded little friend reduced to such slavery.

The following day nothing was talked of in the town but the impertinences of Aglaïa. One said that she had pretended not to see her; a third, that she had not bowed to her; another, that she had looked at her with a laugh, while joining Leontine in ridiculing her. The young men were divided in their opinion, some being for, others against her. Gustave was the only one who said nothing, but he appeared sad, and Hortense endeavoured to palliate her faults.

Two days afterwards, Aglaïa took Leontine for a walk into Madame Lacour's garden. As she did not know what refreshment to give her, she had persuaded the servant to bring her some milk and cakes, but she dared not say a word to her grandmamma on the subject, for fear she should tell her to invite her other friends also. Aglaïa would indeed have found this much more pleasant than her _tête-à-tête_ with Leontine; but then she did not know whether such a thing would be agreeable to her visitor, and she was so childish, that she felt more timid with her than with a grownup person. Whilst they were in the garden, Laurette happened to pass by the gate, and seeing it open, went in. She was returning with the servant from her father's garden, where she had been gathering some fruit and salad. She had her basket on her arm, and wore her every-day dress, which was not over clean, as she was rather careless. The servant had the manners and coarse voice of a peasant, and was carrying in a cloth a ham, which a few days before she had buried in the ground, in order to render it more tender, and which she had now been to fetch. Judge of Aglaïa's embarrassment at such a visit. Had she been a sensible girl, had she possessed any real dignity, she would, in an unaffected manner, have accustomed Leontine from their very first acquaintance to see in her the simple habits suitable to a small fortune, and thus have prepared her for similar habits in the persons of her acquaintances. To do this, there would have been no need of discoursing about household duties, a subject of conversation by no means amusing; it was simply required that she should not carefully shun all allusion to them as something humiliating. Thus, for instance, she need not have resorted to a thousand evasions to conceal from Leontine, that it was herself and her grandmother who made all their preserves, and prepared for the winter their pickled cucumbers, their vegetables, and their dried fruits. Leontine, had she known this, might perhaps have considered it more pleasant not to be obliged to take all this trouble, but she certainly would never have ventured to make it a subject of contempt; for that which is reasonable, if performed in an unaffected manner, without either shame or ostentation, always carries with it something which is imposing, even in the estimation of those who are not reasonable. Had Aglaïa acted in this manner, she would have felt no embarrassment at this apparition of Laurette, with her salad, and of her servant with the ham; but as it was, all the fine-lady airs which she had assumed, were completely upset, and she therefore gave Laurette a very bad reception. Indeed, had it not been for Mademoiselle Champré, who made room for her on the grass where they were seated, she would have left her standing. Laurette, who was very ill-bred, made many absurd remarks, and the servant also joined several times in the conversation. Aglaïa was in torture. At last Laurette went away, for the servant, annoyed at being kept waiting, detailed all that had to be done in the house, in order to hasten her departure. In the evening, at Madame Dufour's _soirée_, to which Laurette accompanied her mother, it was whispered that Aglaïa had given a luncheon to Leontine, in her grandmother's garden, to which no one had been invited; that Laurette had gone there by chance, and that she had not even been asked to take anything. This caused a great deal of excitement, and it was resolved that, as Madame Lacour allowed her granddaughter to be guilty of such rudeness, they would not go to her _soirée_ on the following Thursday.

Madame Lacour knew nothing of all this; she had been ill for a week, and had seen no one but M. Guimont, who took no interest in such absurdities. She received company on the Thursday for the first time, and was astonished to find that nobody came. She supposed they still considered her ill, and finding it getting late, sent her servant to the houses of two or three of her neighbours, to tell them she was waiting for them. They replied, that they could not come. This answer was given in the presence of an old lady, who, having no daughter, did not consider herself bound to share in the resentment occasioned by Aglaïa's conduct; besides, being fond of news and gossip, she was glad to have an opportunity of ascertaining what was going on at Madame Lacour's; whether the agreement which had been made would be adhered to; what Madame Lacour would think of it, and what Aglaïa would say. When, therefore, Madame Lacour expressed her astonishment at being thus abandoned, "It is not at all surprising," said the old lady, "after what has happened."

"What has happened then?" asked Madame Lacour.

Hereupon the old lady detailed, with all the exaggerations usual in such cases, the misconduct of Aglaïa, and the consequent indignation of her friends. During this recital, Aglaïa was in the most painful situation; she made excuses, endeavoured to justify herself, denied some things, and explained away others; but all this did not prevent Madame Lacour from being excessively angry with her. She told her that she felt disposed to send her that very moment to apologize to all those ladies, but that, at all events, she should have to apologize. M. Guimont and his children entering at this moment, found her in tears. "I hope, at least," added Madame Lacour, "that your rudeness has not extended to the children of my friend M. Guimont; for this is a thing I would never forgive."

Hortense blushed a little, and ran to embrace Aglaïa; Gustave was silent, but Madame Lacour having asked him, whether it was because he was displeased with Aglaïa, that he had not come to correct her exercises for several days past, he assured her that he had been very much occupied, a statement which his father confirmed, and he proposed to look over them at once. Aglaïa, trembling, went and brought her papers, and gave them to him, not daring, however, to raise her eyes; he corrected them, but without talking to her, as he was accustomed to do, and when he had finished, he went over to see the game which M. Guimont was playing with Madame Lacour and the old lady. Aglaïa's heart was very heavy. Hortense consoled herself as well as she could, and said to her, "We shall have plenty of other things to chat about now; a German lady, the Princess de Schwamberg, arrived about an hour ago; she will be obliged to remain here for some days, because her governess, of whom she is very fond, and whom she treats like a friend, has been taken ill. It turns out that the governess, who is a French-woman, is a relative of Mademoiselle Champré. It was my father who informed them that she was here, with Mademoiselle d'Armilly, and the princess intends, with M. d'Armilly's permission, to send her daughters to spend a portion of their time with Mademoiselle Leontine."

Aglaïa, notwithstanding her grief, thought with a certain degree of satisfaction, that she should see these German princesses; her vanity rejoiced extremely at the idea of being admitted into such distinguished society. She put many questions to Hortense, to which the latter was unable to reply, as her father never conversed with her about such frivolities; besides, the game was over, and Gustave approached them; Aglaïa therefore became silent.

The following day, Madame Lacour was still too angry for Aglaïa to think of asking permission to visit Leontine, but she hoped that perhaps Leontine might send and invite her. However, she heard nothing of her, either on that day or the next. It had been agreed that, on the following Sunday, Leontine was to take her for a drive in her father's carriage. Madame Lacour, when apprized of this arrangement, was extremely unwilling to give her consent, but as it was made, she did not like to interfere with it. She, however, again severely reprimanded Aglaïa for her misconduct, and ordered her to show the greatest politeness to all her acquaintances whom she might chance to meet. At the hour appointed, Aglaïa went to Leontine's house. She was told that she was on the parade with the Mesdemoiselles Schwamberg, where the carriage was to take them up. She went there, and seeing the carriage in the distance, hurried on, and arrived, quite out of breath, expressing her fear that she had kept them waiting. "Oh! not at all," said Leontine, "we were not waiting for you, for there is no room."

"What!" exclaimed Aglaïa, with astonishment, "did you not tell me...." "You see clearly, my dear," replied Leontine, in a tone of impatience, "that there is no room: Mesdemoiselles de Schwamberg, Mademoiselle Champré, and myself make up four."

Mademoiselle Champré was going to speak, and one of the princesses proposed to make room for her. "No! no!" said Leontine, "we should be stifled; it must be for another time."

At this moment the coachman mounted his box; Leontine gave Aglaïa a patronising bow, and the carriage drove off. Aglaïa remained stupified. All who were on the promenade had been drawing near during the debate, and had witnessed her humiliation. She heard their titterings and whisperings, and on raising her eyes, beheld several of her acquaintances looking at her with an air of derision, while others turned away, shrugging their shoulders. She made her escape, her heart swelling with shame and anger. Some ill-bred young men followed her, ridiculed her, and made a thousand offensive remarks, which reached her ears. One of them, leaving his companions, passed before her, and taking off his hat, said, "This is what Mademoiselle Leontine d'Armilly does." The servant who accompanied Aglaïa, became angry with them, and said that their parents should be informed of their conduct. This, however, only increased their laughter and mockery. Aglaïa walked as fast as she could, in order to escape from them, and reached home heated and weeping. Interrogated by her grandmother, she was obliged to relate what had happened, and she had the additional mortification of being told that it was quite right, and that she had only received what she deserved. Nevertheless, Madame Lacour determined, without communicating her intentions to her granddaughter, to give a lesson to those ill-bred young men, through M. Guimont, who possessed great authority in all the circles of the town.

Aglaïa spent two days very unhappily; she would not have ventured out at all, had not her grandmother absolutely ordered her to do so, so much did she dread to meet any of those persons who had ridiculed her. Twice she had met Leontine, who, laughing and talking with Mesdemoiselles de Schwamberg, had scarcely noticed her. No one had visited her, not even Hortense. She knew that on the Wednesday there was to be a _réunion_ at Madame Dufour's garden, and she had not been invited. She was grieving at seeing herself thus abandoned by every one, when on the Wednesday Hortense came to see her. She was very much astonished, for she thought that she was at the garden with the others. Hortense told her that her father had permitted her and her brother to refuse the invitation. Aglaïa timidly asked why.

"Because I preferred spending the day with you."

"And Gustave?" said Aglaïa, still more timidly.

"Gustave," replied Hortense, somewhat embarrassed, "would not go, because you had not been invited, and gave this as his reason, because he did not wish it to be supposed that he had quarrelled with you, but he said that he should come to the house as little as possible, 'because,' he observed, 'I can no longer rely upon Aglaïa, who can abandon her old friends to accommodate herself to the caprices of Mademoiselle d'Armilly.'"

Aglaïa wept bitterly, Hortense endeavoured to console her, but she could not venture to hold out any decided hopes that her brother would relent, for he appeared to be very decided, and Aglaïa felt more than ever that the friendship of Gustave was much more honourable than the momentary partiality of Mademoiselle d'Armilly. While Hortense and she were sitting together very sorrowfully, Gustave came in. He still looked somewhat serious, but he was less cold. They both blushed with surprise and pleasure at seeing him. "Aglaïa," he said, "must come to the parade with us; I have asked my father to take us, and he is now dressing to come. I have just learned," he continued very warmly, "that there is a report that Aglaïa is afraid to show herself on the parade after what has recently occurred; we must prove that this is not the case; every one will be there on their way home from Madame Dufour's garden, and we must show them that she has still her ... former friends to support her."

He had hesitated, not knowing what to say. Aglaïa, greatly affected, threw herself into the arms of Hortense, as if to thank Gustave, but she was grieved that he had hesitated, that he had only spoken of _former friends_. "Are you not still my friends?" she exclaimed, leaning her head on Hortense's shoulder. Hortense embraced her, and endeavoured to console her. Gustave said nothing, but when for an instant she raised her eyes towards him, she perceived that his face wore a softer and less serious expression. Madame Lacour was not in the room at this moment, as he had availed himself of her absence to relate what he had heard, for, as she was still an invalid, they wished to say as little as possible to her about these broils, which were beginning to annoy her, and might end in making her seriously angry with those acquaintances with whom M. Guimont was anxious to reconcile her. They therefore simply asked her to allow Aglaïa to walk out with M. Guimont and his children. To this she willingly consented, being delighted to have her granddaughter in such good company. M. Guimont arrived. Hortense took her father's arm, and Gustave offered his to Aglaïa. She trembled a little, and did not dare to say a word. At length a stone caught her foot in such a way that she must have fallen, had he not supported her: he inquired with such eagerness and kindness whether she were hurt, that she began to gain courage. She spoke of her exercises, told him what she had done, and asked his advice. At length she summoned up courage to say, "Will you always be angry with me?"

Gustave did not reply. Tears started to Aglaïa's eyes; she held down her head, but Gustave nevertheless perceived that he had grieved her. "We are not angry," he said, with some degree of emotion; "but what grieves us is, that you could so readily forget your old friends for a mere stranger."

Aglaïa's tears now flowed fast. "I did not forget you," she murmured, "for all my anxiety was to make you acquainted with Leontine."

Gustave crimsoned, and replied with warmth, "We would not have formed acquaintance with Mademoiselle d'Armilly. Her society does not suit us. We wish to associate with those only who treat us as their equals."

Aglaïa understood by this reply how much he must have felt humiliated on her account, in consequence of the slavish deference she had manifested in Leontine's presence; she had reflected much on this subject during the last two days, and at this moment Gustave's pride made her blush for it still more. "Very well," she said, after a moment's silence, "how must I act towards Leontine? for perhaps she may wish to see me again; perhaps even I may now meet her on the parade."

"Ask my father," said Gustave; for he was too sensible to trust altogether to his own judgment in such a case. They approached M. Guimont, and Gustave repeated to him her question.

"My dear child," said M. Guimont, "how would you act if it were Laurette, or Mademoiselle Dufour, who had treated you as Mademoiselle d'Armilly has done? You would not quarrel with her on this account, for that would be to attach too much importance to such things; but as it would have been evident that she cared little about your society, since she neglected to show you those attentions which alone could render hers agreeable to you, you would treat her with great reserve, and carefully avoid everything that could lead her to suppose that you wish to retain her acquaintance. You ought to act in the same manner with Mademoiselle d'Armilly. According to the usages of society, you are not her equal, since she is richer and of higher birth than you are; these usages have their reasons, whether good or bad, and we must conform to them. Therefore, you ought to regard it as a matter of course, that those who occupy a more elevated station than yours, should not seek your society; and you ought to endure good humouredly the petty distinctions which they think themselves entitled to claim. But no one is obliged to associate with those who do not treat him in a manner congenial to his feelings; therefore, you ought not to think of associating with a person of superior station to your own, except when she altogether forgets this inequality, and treats you as she does her other acquaintances." Gustave listened with great pleasure to these observations of his father, in whose judgment he had full confidence, and who sometimes had to check his rather exaggerated notions of self-respect. Aglaïa thanked M. Guimont, and promised to act towards Leontine with proper reserve.

"Oh, if you see her again," said Gustave, "she will resume her influence over you, and we shall have the same thing over again." Aglaïa assured him that he was mistaken; but Gustave seemed sceptical on the subject.

"Aglaïa would be in no danger," said M. Guimont, "if she were always accompanied by a sensible person; but her excellent grandmamma cannot always be with her."