Part 23

The next evening belonged to the elector; it compensated me to some extent for the boredom of the preceding one. I found there several pretty women and a little less formality and more merriment. In the course of a week I ran the whole gamut of receptions and knew the whole town. I was well received everywhere; I was rich and unmarried: that was more than was necessary to assure me a warm welcome.

I began to become accustomed to the conjugal discussions, and to the pranks of my nephews, who were little demons in very truth. I saw that, taking everything together, my sister and her husband were happy; in the finest weather of one's life storms may arise; a picture must have shadows to bring out the lights. Their little quarrels did not prevent their loving each other, and their children's defects were graces in their eyes. However, I hoped that, if I ever married, I should have fewer petty _discussions_ with my wife, and I resolved to bring up my children in an entirely different way; but perhaps I should have troubles which my sister and her husband had never known.

I had been in the province a fortnight. I cannot say that I enjoyed myself exactly, but at least I was not discontented. The novelty of the life, the original faces that I saw every night, my sister's affection and her husband's--all these served to divert my thoughts; time produced its inevitable effect, my melancholy disappeared, and I became what I used to be. However, I had not entirely forgotten Nicette; I felt that I still loved her; but when the thought of her came to my mind, I had the strength to put it aside, and I imposed silence on my heart.

I would have been glad to fall in love anew--were it only a caprice, one of those flames which used to set me on fire so quickly; perhaps that would cure me entirely. But long for it as I would, I could not compel any such feeling! I looked about me; I saw some good-looking women, some few faces formed to please; but I saw nobody who resembled Nicette.

XXIX

MADEMOISELLE PÉLAGIE.--A SCHEME TO MARRY ME

My sister, who was really a most excellent woman,--due allowance being made for her tendency to be a little obstinate,--was overjoyed that I had ceased to speak of returning to Paris. She had no mercy on herself in her endeavors to procure for me what she called new pleasures every day. She would have been so delighted to induce me to settle at Melun! From time to time, she would ask my opinion concerning the young women I had seen the night before; she would dilate in great detail upon the virtues, talents, and amiable qualities of each one of them; then she would extol the pleasures of wedded life, the joy of having children, which, however, did not prevent her shrieking after her boys the next moment, and disputing with her husband; but it was understood that those were among the joys of wedded life. Ah! my dear sister! I saw what you were driving at! you had gone back to your favorite idea; you were determined, in short, that I should do as others did, for that was your constant refrain. And then, to negotiate the marriage of one's brother is an affair of such vast importance in a small town!--What an exhaustless source of interviews, confidential communications, visits, parties, new dresses--and, therefore, of pleasure!

For some time I did not allow myself to be tempted. However, I was beginning to believe that one might as well do as others do, especially when one has lost that desire to flutter about the fair sex, that longing for every pretty woman, which is so natural to young men. There was only one for whom I had had any longing, for many weeks past--but she had deceived me, so I must needs forget her as well as the rest.

I had noticed for several days that my sister seemed even more content than usual; I often saw her whispering with Déneterre, who in the end always did what she wanted him to. They extolled still more warmly the joys of wedlock, but they said nothing more about any of the young women I had already seen; they evidently had some new hope; no doubt, I should soon learn what was in the wind.

"I shall try to make myself look very nice to-night," said Amélie one day. "You will go with me, won't you, dear Eugène? It's Madame Lépine's evening,--she was the elector's wife,--and they say there'll be a good many people there."

"But I seem to see the same persons every time."

"Ah! there'll be some new faces for you to-night; Madame de Pontchartrain has returned from her place in the country, and she will be there."

"Who is this Madame de Pontchartrain?"

"A most respectable person, who has an income of seven thousand francs and is seventy years old."

Very respectable, no doubt; but I could not see why I should be especially interested in Madame de Pontchartrain. Doubtless I should learn the answer to the enigma in the evening.

After dinner madame set about dressing. I had thought that Parisian women were coquettes, but since I had lived in the provinces I had learned to do justice to the belles of the capital, who passed two hours less before their mirrors than the beauties of a small town. Déneterre went off to play pool, and I walked in the garden while my sister was dressing; for the first time I was vexed by her slowness; I was in a hurry to arrive at Madame Lépine's--I, who ordinarily accompanied my sister solely to oblige her; but one sometimes has presentiments.

My sister was ready at last; Déneterre returned, and we started. We soon reached our destination; in a small town no two houses are far apart. We were announced in due form; for in the provinces you may not enter a salon in good society without being announced. I glanced around at the guests and saw no unfamiliar faces. I was almost angry; but while Madame Lépine was arranging the different games, I saw my sister go to her and heard her say:

"My brother won't play cards to-night; don't count on him for boston or reversis; he prefers the games."

I had not said anything of the sort to her; what did it mean, that she took that step without consulting me? I was just on the point of demanding an explanation, when the servant announced:

"Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece."

Aha! there was a niece! I began to understand. All eyes turned toward the door; I did like everybody else, and I saw a tall, thin, angular, yellow-skinned woman, who, despite her age, held herself very erect and seemed to have retained all the vivacity of youth; that was the aunt; let us say no more of her, but give our attention to the niece.

A flattering murmur ran about the salon as she entered. In truth, she was very pretty; of medium height, but well set up; and if she was a little stiff in her carriage, it was the result of her training. Her features were regular, complexion rosy, hair very beautiful, and eyes very large; as for their color, I could not as yet discover it, for she kept them fixed on the floor.

While Madame Lépine went to meet Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece, and all the young women whispered together as they scrutinized the newcomer, in whom they were undoubtedly seeking defects which they would speedily find,--for women are very skilful in detecting at a glance anything disadvantageous to their rivals,--I noticed that my sister looked furtively at me, trying to read in my eyes the impression that Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain had produced on my heart.

Ah! my poor Amélie! my heart was perfectly calm!--calm, do I say? alas, no! it was not calm as yet, but it was not that young woman who excited it. I wished that it were; she was very pretty; she might well attract any man, and I should have been delighted to love her.

The niece's name was Pélagie; I heard her called so by her aunt, who had taken her seat at a whist table from which she would not stir until it was time to go home. She urged her niece to enjoy herself, to be less shy; Pélagie blushed, and replied very gently:

"Yes, aunt."

The young woman seemed to be the personification of innocence.

Madame Lépine took possession of Mademoiselle Pélagie and led her to the circle formed for the games. I took my place by her side; I was curious to make the acquaintance of that young novice. I noticed that all the other young women watched me when they saw me place my chair beside Pélagie's; jealousy and spite were blazing in their eyes already! In the provinces, people are so quick to interpret the slightest action, the slightest indication of preference! But it mattered little to me what they thought; I was at liberty to do whatever I chose.

How uncharitable young women are to one another! Those who came regularly to the receptions enjoyed the bashfulness and embarrassment of the newcomer, and tried to intensify them by putting the most difficult questions to her in the games and making her do what was likely to confuse her most. I detected their petty malice, and I tried to put Mademoiselle Pélagie more at her ease. Once she attempted to thank me, and began a sentence the end of which I did not hear; but she raised her eyes an instant, and I was able to see that they were of a very tender shade of blue, and sweet in expression.

Madame Lépine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was musical.

"Yes, madame," the old aunt replied; "Pélagie sings, and accompanies herself on the piano."

Immediately all the young women begged Pélagie to sing them something. They hoped to find food for criticism. Pélagie demurred very awkwardly; she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified _sing_; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to accompany her.

"No, monsieur," she said; "I will play my own accompaniment."

Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but Pélagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to embellish her speeches.

She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no one would have suspected it from listening to Pélagie, who imparted absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable to Pélagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit.

My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Pélagie, speak to her often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, it would naturally end in marriage.

The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amélie found an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside Pélagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached their house, where we left them after the three conventional bows; I observed, by the way, that Pélagie was very proficient in the matter of courtesies.

When we reached home, Amélie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle Pélagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied with each other in extolling her to the skies.

"She's a charming girl!"

"Upon my word, she's the prettiest girl in Melun!"

"And so perfectly well bred!"

"Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous behavior in company!"

"She is innocence personified."

"She's an excellent musician."

"And no one would suspect it, because she makes no pretensions."

"Her aunt has no other heir; she's an excellent match!"

"The man who gets her won't make a bad speculation!"

"And he can be sure of his wife's virtue."

Annoyed by my silence, my sister addressed herself to me at last.

"Well, Eugène, tell us what you think of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain."

"My dear girl, what do you expect me to add to your eulogies of her?"

"Aren't you of our opinion?"

"Why, yes, pretty nearly."

"Oh! you don't choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you thought her pretty."

"Pretty; to be sure she is."

"And well bred."

"As to that, I think so, but----"

"In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?"

"Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven't said anything to prove----"

"But I can't see why it isn't perfectly natural. Surely your lady friends in Paris can't resemble the charming Pélagie?"

"Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely."

Amélie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Pélagie. Déneterre kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed.

For several days nothing unusual disturbed the even tenor of life under my sister's roof. Every evening I went with her to some reception; for when I attempted to stay behind, she always found some way to make me do as she wished. So that I saw Mademoiselle Pélagie every evening, for she accompanied her aunt, who never failed to be on hand for her game of whist or reversis, which she even played in the morning, with three dowagers who had done nothing else for fifteen years, and in whose eyes their game was of such importance that one wept when her king was trumped, and another fell ill because she had discarded the knave of hearts.

Pélagie took part in the minor games, but she continued to be as shy and embarrassed as on the first day I saw her. As she was very pretty, the other young ladies had no mercy on her. Some of the young lady killers of the town undertook to make to her the pretty, gallant speeches which men of wit no longer venture to use, because they are too trite. But the wit of the dandies of Melun seemed to make no impression on Pélagie's mind; she listened very coldly to their compliments, and made no other reply than a low bow. The young men, vexed to produce so little effect, went elsewhere to play the butterfly. I alone remained true to Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain, and I alone obtained from her replies not quite so laconic. To be sure, I paid her no embarrassing compliments, and placed myself on her level by talking with her of the simplest subjects. She seemed a little less timid with me; she began to raise her eyes when she answered me; and twice I fancied that she actually smiled at me. Decidedly I was a favored mortal.

The novelty of this method of making love amused and distracted me. My heart was still perfectly tranquil in Pélagie's presence; and yet, since I had known her I had thought less of Nicette. The young innocent filled my thoughts, and, while I had no love for her, I liked to be with her; her pretty face did no harm, but her shyness and her artlessness attracted me even more.

My sister had ceased to talk about her, but I saw she was well pleased. The great-aunt treated me very affably; she interrupted her game sometimes to inquire for my health; which fact indicated the extraordinary favor with which she regarded me. The young ladies, it must be said, no longer evinced the same interest in me, manifested much less pleasure at my arrival, and did not make me pay a forfeit at the kissing stage of their games; but as I attached no value to the privilege, I paid no heed to their indifference. The mammas whispered to one another as they looked at me, while the papas smiled slyly at me; everything indicated that a great event was expected; I was perhaps the only one who gave no thought at all to the subject with which the whole town was agog.

Déneterre was the first to open my eyes.

"When's the wedding to be?" he asked me one evening, rubbing his hands.

"What's that? what wedding?"

"Parbleu! yours!"

"Mine! with whom, pray?"

"With whom! with whom! Ah! you choose to be close-mouthed! But we have eyes, my dear fellow, and we know what to think."

"But I believe I have eyes, too, and I have seen nothing to imply----"

"Come, come, my dear Eugène," interposed my sister, "why pretend any longer with us, your best friends? You love Pélagie; what do I say? love her? you adore her; I am sure of it. The whole town knows it, too; it's no longer a mystery."

"Oho! the whole town knows that----"

"Yes, my dear. And the young woman has shown her preference for you; that also is very easy to see: moreover, no one should claim to cut you out. The aunt considers you a very suitable match; she knew our mother and she thinks a great deal of our family. When her niece is married, she will settle three thousand francs a year on her, and leave her the rest of her property at her death. It seems to me that that is not to be despised; with what you have now, you will be in comfortable circumstances, and you will make a charming couple. Tell me, when do you want me to go to ask for her hand?"

I listened to my sister, and I admit that I was greatly surprised by what I heard. However, on mature reflection, I realized that my conduct, which would never have been noticed at Paris, might well, in a small town, give rise to the conjectures which were relied upon to induce me to marry Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain.

Amélie and her husband told me so often and so earnestly that I loved Pélagie, that I began to think that they would end by making me believe it. And, after all, should I be so badly off if I married that young innocent? If I was not in love with her, perhaps I should be all the happier; moreover, I was well aware that I was incapable of a new love; the most that I could do was to stamp out that which still tormented me in spite of myself.

Beside the innocent Pélagie, I should pass placid days; she was bashful, virtuous, well bred; a husband would be able to mould her as he chose. Friendship, they say, is more durable than love; I would begin with friendship for my wife, so that I might love her the longer. I should not be jealous; I should have one less source of torment. I should have children, whom I would bring up on a very different plan from my sister's. Finally, having a gentle, guileless, and taciturn wife, we should have none of those little discussions which Amélie called conjugal amenities, but which were in my eyes very unpleasant quarrels.

All these reflections produced a state of indecision, which my sister interpreted in accordance with her favorite idea. Persuaded that I loved Pélagie secretly, that Pélagie adored me, and that our union would make me the happiest of husbands and ensure my future peace of mind, Amélie urged me, harassed me, persecuted me, to induce me to authorize her to ask for the hand of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. At every moment in the day she drew for me a new picture of the delights of wedded life. Déneterre did the same; in the first place, to please his wife, and, secondly, because he thought it would be a good match for me; to cap the climax, even messieurs my nephews had been taught their lesson, and every day, as they climbed on my knees or my shoulders, they would say:

"When are you going to invite us to the wedding, uncle?"

I am naturally weak, as you must have noticed; tired of being tormented from morning till night to marry, I saw that I must either make up my mind to do it or leave the town, where I was already pointed out as Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's future husband.

But if I returned to Paris, what should I do there, tired as I was of bachelor life, and conscious of a craving to love, to attach myself to someone, and to detach myself from her whom I had loved so dearly?--No, I would marry, I would adore my wife if possible, and pray that she would prove my rock of salvation.

The result of these reflections was that I said one day in response to my sister's entreaties:

"Do whatever you choose."

Amélie asked no further questions; she threw her arms around me, kissed me, and, giving me no chance to add a single word, flew to Madame de Pontchartrain's to sue for Pélagie's hand for her brother. In half an hour she returned with the answer, which was favorable.

"She gives her to you!" she cried from the foot of the stairs; "she is yours; everything is agreed upon and settled; to-morrow I will attend to publishing the banns."

I considered that my sister had been a little too expeditious; it was impossible now to retract; the request had been made and granted, and I was bound!--What! I was going to marry Pélagie, whom I hardly knew? It seemed to me that it must all be a joke; I could not accustom myself to the idea of being Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's husband.

XXX

AN INTERVIEW WITH MY INTENDED

After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to Madame de Pontchartrain's to pay court to Pélagie in her aunt's presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live.

Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the instant of my happiness, I could not become Pélagie's husband in less than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody's eyes were fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because Mademoiselle Pélagie and I had never spoken of it.

It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Pélagie which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject while playing _La Sellette_ or _Monsieur le Curé_? I hoped to be less constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there; often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see Pélagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very natural to make the acquaintance of one's wife before marriage; I felt sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to obtain for me an interview with my intended.

"Amélie, I should be very glad to have a little conversation with Pélagie."

"Well, what prevents you, my dear? don't you see her every morning and evening, if you choose?"

"Yes, to be sure, I see her in the morning, but always in the presence of her aunt and three or four old mummies who would deprive the most impassioned lover of all desire to make love. Besides, Pélagie is very shy; how can you expect her to describe her sentiments before people?"

"Why, my dear, you ought to divine them easily enough from the hints she lets fall."