Part 31

At last they reached the house in which Virginie lived; as they went upstairs Bertrand was as excited as if he were going to see a long lost son; and Virginie said to him:

"You mustn't show yourself to Auguste right away; he is still very weak, and the sight of you might cause him too much emotion. You understand, don't you, Bertrand?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"I'll go in first, and prepare Auguste gently; then I'll motion to you."

"Yes, mademoiselle, I'll wait in another room."

"No; as I have but one, you must wait on the landing. I'll leave the door ajar."

"All right; but don't wait long before you give me the signal, for I am crazy to have my arms around him."

They arrived at Virginie's door; she opened it, then partly closed it, and Bertrand stood as close as possible, hardly daring to breathe.

Auguste had risen and was sitting at a window, impatiently awaiting Virginie, whose long absence made him anxious.

"Here I am, my friend," she said, as she entered the room; and she hung about Auguste with as much embarrassment as she had shown in front of the cookshop. "Here I am; I've been rather long, but--but--it was because I met someone who is much better than a chicken."

"You met someone?"

"Yes--someone who--someone----"

Before Virginie could think of what she wanted to say, Bertrand, unable to contain himself any longer, opened the door, rushed to Auguste, and threw his arms about him, crying:

"It was me, sacrebleu! it was me! But I can't stay hidden any longer; I must embrace him!"

Bertrand could not make up his mind for some minutes to release his hold of Auguste, and Virginie exclaimed reproachfully:

"There! you see! he couldn't wait till I motioned to him; he'll make Auguste worse!"

"No," said the convalescent, "no, happiness never does that! My poor fellow! so you have come back!"

"And you could believe that I abandoned you!" said Bertrand, taking Auguste's hand. "You doubted the love of your old comrade, your faithful servant!--I admit that my hurried departure must have surprised you; but when you know!"

"You are here, Bertrand, and everything is forgotten!"

"Oh! listen to me first, and then tell me if I behaved so very badly.--You remember that I left you in the common room of a village tavern where we had just breakfasted. I had just paid our bill when, as I crossed the courtyard, I saw a man whose face attracted my attention, and whom I recognized instantly as our rascal of a Destival."

"Destival!" cried Auguste.

"The man who robbed you!" said Virginie.

"He was just getting into a post-chaise when I caught sight of him. He couldn't have seen me, but the carriage had started before I recovered from my surprise. So then, without taking the time to warn you, because I didn't want to lose a minute for fear our man would escape me, I ran to the stable, saddled my horse, and galloped off in pursuit of our rascal. I soon overtook the post-chaise; but I knew that, in a foreign country, it would be a hard matter to make the villain disgorge, and that I could not rely on anyone but myself to do justice. So I followed the carriage, awaiting a favorable opportunity to see my man in private. For two days the infernal chaise stopped only to change horses; at last, at the end of the second day, they stopped at the posting inn, and my rascal, who evidently needed rest, entered the inn. I lost no time in following him, and asked to speak to the traveller who had just come in. They showed me his room. I went upstairs, entered the room, and began by locking myself in with our man, who, when he saw me, nearly fainted in an easy-chair. I went up to him, took his arm, and said to him: 'You are a thief, you ruined my master, but you won't ruin anybody else; I taught you once to handle weapons, and we'll see if you remember my lessons. Here are two pistols--take one. We shall be very comfortable in this room--four paces is distance enough when one doesn't want to miss. Let's make haste.'

"Instead of taking the pistol I handed him, the miserable wretch threw himself at my feet and begged for mercy. I demanded your money back. He took a wallet out of his pocket, showed me a hundred and sixty thousand francs in notes of the Bank of France, and swore that that was all that was left of what he took away from Paris. I concluded that that was better than nothing, and that I ought to get your money back for you rather than kill the villain. So I took the wallet, and, leaving the scoundrel more dead than alive, I went out of his room and locked him in. I remounted my horse and rode back as fast as I could to the place where I had left you; when I got there, my horse was foundered and I didn't find you. I rode about in all directions, but no one could tell me anything about you. I started for Scotland, where we had intended to go. I passed three weeks visiting every corner there, even the smallest villages, but I wasn't any more fortunate. At last I decided to return to France, and I got to Paris the day before yesterday. My first thought was to go and question Schtrack; he hadn't seen you and he didn't know mademoiselle's address; we began to walk the streets trying to find you. But here you are! I have found you. I can give you what I have rescued of your property.--That is a report of my conduct, lieutenant; now, are you angry with me?"

For all reply, Auguste opened his arms to Bertrand, who handed him the wallet; while Virginie capered about the room, dancing with the chairs, and tossing her cap in the air, crying:

"Vive Bertrand! Auguste isn't poor any more! we'll have a high old time now!"

When the first outburst of joyous excitement had subsided, Auguste told Bertrand what he had done since he left him. He did not conceal from him the miserable plight to which he was reduced when Virginie came to his garret. He told him all that she had done for him--how she had worked and sat up all night, and all the sacrifices that she had undergone every day in order to provide him with whatever he required.

During this story, Virginie tried to make Auguste keep quiet by saying:

"That isn't true; he makes too much of it; don't believe him, Bertrand. Anyhow, if I did do all that, it must have been because I enjoyed it."

But Bertrand, who could not listen unmoved to Auguste's narrative, ran to Virginie, took her in his arms and kissed her, saying:

"That was fine! that was mighty fine!"

"Yes, but you are squeezing me too tight, Bertrand."

Melancholy thoughts gave place to thoughts of happiness. Auguste no longer sighed when he thought of Denise. He was already longing to be with her, he burned to see her again, to requite her love; for after all that Virginie had told him he could no longer doubt the village maiden's heart. But he was unable to go to Montfermeil at once; however, as happiness is a great restorer of health, after two days passed in forming delightful plans for the future, Auguste was in condition to go out.

Before going to the village, where he expected to stay for some time, Auguste put his affairs in order. He went to his old notary and instructed him to invest his funds, keeping back only so much as was necessary for the execution of his plans. He intended to assure Virginie's future; since she was no longer as young as she had once been, she was anxious to carry on a little business. Auguste hired a pretty shop for her and stocked it with embroideries and novelties, and Virginie became a dealer in small wares. She proudly took her seat behind her counter, after having a sign put over her door: _A la Pucelle_; and she swore to Auguste that she proposed thenceforth to devote herself exclusively to her business.

Auguste received Virginie's thanks and her kindest regards for Denise, whom she did not propose to visit until her new line of conduct had covered her former aberrations with oblivion. He was on the point of starting for Montfermeil with Bertrand, when Virginie exclaimed:

"Mon Dieu! I forgot the little shopkeeper and the chicken! I meant to recommend her to you, so that you might at least buy your gloves of her."

"What shopkeeper? what chicken?" inquired Auguste.

Virginie told of her adventure on the day she met Bertrand. Auguste, after expressing anew to Virginie his gratitude for all that she had done for him during his sickness, determined to call upon the young woman who had displayed so much delicacy in conferring a favor, and to thank her. He took Virginie in his cabriolet and they drove to the young linen-draper's shop.

The cabriolet stopped at her door and the three occupants alighted. The young woman was amazed; she was not accustomed to having customers come in a carriage to buy needles and thread. But she blushed when she recognized Virginie, who entered first, saying to Auguste:

"It was madame here, who was so kind to me when you were convalescent."

Auguste stepped forward to salute the young tradeswoman, who was sorely embarrassed by the thanks he expressed. But before she could speak, an old man, who was in the back shop, and whom they had not noticed, came toward them, crying:

"Daughter! Anna! it is our place to thank this generous man! He is our benefactor! It is he to whom I owe my life and the happiness of seeing you happy!"

Auguste looked at the old man and recognized poor Dorfeuil; and before he had recovered from his surprise, father and daughter were at his feet, covering his hand with tears of gratitude.

Thereupon it was the turn of Bertrand and Virginie to demand explanations. Auguste tried to slink away, but old Dorfeuil held him fast while he told of all that he owed him, and finished his story by saying to Auguste:

"As you see, your benefaction brought us good luck. I have paid my debt; and in the last three years, my Anna, having succeeded in all her undertakings, has been able to set up in business here, where I am passing my declining years with her, in peace."

Bertrand embraced Auguste again, Virginie embraced everybody, and they parted, promising to meet again. Virginie returned to her shop, from which she could not be absent longer, and Auguste drove off at last toward Denise's village.

As they drew near Montfermeil his heart beat fast. He looked at Bertrand and said:

"We are going to see her! Oh! if you knew how they welcomed me, how they fêted me when I was unfortunate!"

"And yet you left them!"

"My dear fellow, I had nothing to offer Denise."

"And now that you are much richer than she is, what if she should take her turn at refusing you? Then there'd be no end to it. Lovers have no common sense."

Instead of taking the road to the village, Auguste could not resist the desire to go by the little wood path where he had kissed the little milkmaid long ago. When he was near the place where Jean le Blanc ran away, he saw a small boy on a donkey in the woods; and a little farther on was a young girl, sitting at the foot of a tree.

"There they are!" cried Auguste.

In a twinkling he had jumped out of the cabriolet; he ran into the woods to where the girl sat, threw himself at her feet, covered her hand with kisses, and said:

"It's I, Denise; I have come back to you, never to leave you again."

The girl was in doubt as to whether she was awake; she gazed at Auguste, who was fashionably dressed as in the old days, while Coco ran up to them, saying:

"Here's my kind friend! he's dressed like he was the day I broke the bowl."

"Is it really you?" said Denise. "Oh! if you knew how your letter grieved me! Wicked! to leave me because you were poor! to dare to say that I didn't love you! that you wouldn't come to see me again till you had ceased to love me! Is that what your coming now means? Oh! tell me quickly, don't let me hope for happiness--it is too hard to be cheated out of what one longs for!"

Auguste made no other reply than to press her to his heart, while his eyes told the sweet girl that it was something more than friendship that had brought him back to her.

Bertrand, having left the cabriolet, came forward to pay his respects to Denise.

"Bertrand too!" she exclaimed; "he has come back!"

"Yes, and it is to him, whom I accused of deserting me, that I owe my good fortune to-day."

A few words put Denise in possession of the whole story, and she held out her hand to Bertrand, saying:

"Oh! my heart never doubted his! As if one could cease to love a person because he is unfortunate!" Then suddenly remembering that Auguste had recovered a large part of his property, she exclaimed: "Oh! mon Dieu! then I cannot be your wife!"

"Yes, Denise, you will be my wife," said Auguste, taking her hand, "for you are the only woman who could make me happy, and I cannot doubt the sincerity of your love."

"But I am only a village girl----"

"Whom I prefer to all the fine ladies of the city."

"I shall be awkward in society."

"I have learned the worth of society, and I care very little for its judgments; besides, when it knows you, my Denise, it will be compelled to do you justice."

"Oh! I don't want to know it, for my part, my dear; let us agree that, if you marry me, I shall stay here. When you want to go to Paris, you shall go alone; and then, when you are tired of the city, you can come back to your little milkmaid."

Auguste kissed her and they started for the cottage. When one is happy, everything seems delightful; in the eyes of the lovers the cottage had become a palace; but Bertrand, who was not in love and who always thought of the future, said to Auguste:

"This house isn't big enough for you, lieutenant; besides, it belongs to Coco--it's his property. You must buy a pretty house, not too expensive, which you can see from here, where you will have suitable accommodations and where you can entertain a few friends; because, you know, you mustn't isolate yourself from society altogether; the sure way to have your love last only a short time is to shut yourself up with your wife for six months. Now that you know the world, you won't be taken in again. You will take men at their true value; you can associate with the people whose company is agreeable, and you mustn't play for such high stakes as you used to; for now, or never, is the time to be prudent."

Auguste approved Bertrand's suggestion. The house was hired, and a week later, Denise, beaming with love and happiness, embellishing by her charms and her grace the modest costume she had selected, was led to the altar by the man she loved.

All the people of the village assembled to see the little milkmaid married. The peasants said to one another:

"Now's the time she's going to play the fine lady! She's marrying a swell! How high she'll hold her head!"

But they were mistaken: Denise, after she became Madame Dalville, was as sweet and kindhearted as when she was a simple peasant girl herself.

As he escorted his young wife to their new home, Auguste cast a glance now and then at the comely women whom they happened to pass; but it was a matter of habit simply--Denise alone had his heart.

True to her promise, Denise did not desire to leave the village; and for a long while Auguste did not go away from his wife. Later, however, he went occasionally to Paris. On one of his visits to the capital he learned that the vivacious Athalie had separated from her husband, because Mère Thomas made a second trip to Paris; and that Monsieur de la Thomassinière, having made some unfortunate speculations and allowed himself to be ruined by Monsieur de Cligneval, had been compelled to turn over all his property to his creditors, and had become a cab-driver--a trade in which he seemed much more in his proper place than when he was in a salon.

The Marquis de Cligneval, having ventured to indulge in divers sharper's tricks at écarté, which were not to the liking of his adversary, was forced to fight a duel with him, and was killed. As for Destival, when he tried to do business in England on the same plan as in Paris, one of his clients, whose money he had appropriated, struck him a blow from which he did not recover.

It was Monsieur Monin who supplied Auguste with all this news, after asking him how his health was; having applied to his snuff-box, he rejoined Bichette, whom he had left with Monsieur Bisbis in a clump of shrubbery at the Café Turc.

Auguste also saw Dorfeuil and his daughter; but he went very rarely to the young linen-draper's, because she was very pretty. By way of compensation he often saw Virginie, who was no longer pretty, but who had reformed entirely, and whose warm heart caused her former follies to be forgotten.

When he had passed a short time at Paris, Auguste returned to Montfermeil, and it was with ever-renewed delight that he found himself once more in the company of his little milkmaid, of Bertrand, and of Coco, who, as he grew to manhood, often congratulated himself on having broken his bowl.

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Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

what will be do=> what will he do {pg 284}

old hut with gradma=> old hut with grandma {pg 316}

He overcome at last=> He overcame at last {pg 428}