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A. N TON I A. 


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TrmM9hi€d from ike French 





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■ccDKihig lo Act of CoagrtM, ia iIm ywrnr 1870^ by 
of tiM District Cmifft of tlw DiaCrict of 

•T HmM e, umuAW * 00. 


mo M. EDOUABD BODBIGUES, the ikUier of thtt 

fatherlesfy and (Kend of the friondleu; who does 

good for its own uke» with the lame •implicit, the lame 

freedom and readinow, with which he interprets Mozart and 



' I 

» » 

• .'. . 

r I t 


rpHE reeepCioQ of **MAiiprRt»** tho initial Tolimia of tiia 
eoBtemplated Sundjurd Libnuy Edition of Gborob 
8ijn>^ Korelfly ham asrared the pnbliibon that the public mind 
it sow ripe for tho worka of ** the grand protateur of the 
■ineteenth oentmy.** 

Two artidef on Gborob Sakd and her writings are added 
to thia Tolnme : one, written tpocialljrfor the pnrpoiCtbjaUd/ 
eminently qoalified bj Tean of ttndj ; and the other, l^ Jnatin 
ITGartlqr, reprinted from **The Galas/,** hj kind penniMion 
of ita poblithen. 



TT was tho month of April, in tlio year 1786, in Paris ; 
^ the spring that year was a gonnino spring. Tho gar- 
dens were in holiday dress, tho gross was enamelled with 
daisies, the hirds wero singing, and the lilacs wero grow- 
ing in such profusion near Julien's window, that their full- 
blown thyrsi bent over into his very room, and scattered 
their little flowerets over tho great white squares of the 
floor of his studio. 

Julien Thierry was a flower-painter, like his father, 
Andre Thierry, who had been very famous in the time 
of Louis XV. as a decorator of friezes, panels of dining- 
rooms, and ceilings of boudoirs. In his skilful hands 
these graceful ornaments became real works of art ; so 
much so, indeed, that he ceased to be an artisan, and 
gained a great reputation as an artist ; ho was highly 
esteemed by persons of taste, his work commanded great 
prices, and he was a person of consideration in society. 
Julien, his pupil, devoted himself to painting upon canvas. 
In his generation, the light and charming decorations 
in the Pompadour stylo had ceased to bo fashion- 
able. The severer taste of tho Louis XVI. era no longer 
scattered flowers over ceilings and walls, it framed them. 
Julien, therefore, painted flowers, fruits, pearl-shells, 
brilliant butterflies, green lizards, and drops of dew, in 
the manner of Mignon. He had a great deal of talent, 
he was handsome, ho was twenty-four years old, and his 
father had left him nothing but debts. 

The widow of Andr6 lliierry was with Julien, in this 
suuiio where he was at work, and where the bunches of 


Hbe were being despoiled by the earesses of the warm 
breeze. Althoagh aTVoman of sixtj, she was well pre- 
served : her eyes were still beautiful ; her hair was almost 
Mack, and her hands wcjixi delicate. Small, slender, 
lair, and dressed wi«b*« conitiiqite neatness, although with 
extreme simplicity, f\ytb was knitting, and evorj now 
and then looked up at her son, absorbed in studying a rose. 

**Jalieii9''she said, *^ why is it that you do not sing 
any longer at your work? You miglit, perhaps, per* 
raade the nightingale to let us hear its voice/' 

** Listen, mother, he is beginning now of his own ao- 
cord," replied Julien ; ** ho does not require a leader." 

In (act, the nightingale, for the first time in the year, 
began at this very moment to pour forth his pure and ro- 
•oimding notes. 

** Ah I it is really singing I ** cried Madam Thierry. 
^A year has gone by. Do you see it, Julien?" she 
added, as the young man, interrupting his work, gazed 
into the thick grove before the window. 

**I thought that I saw her," ho replied, with a sigh ; 
^ but I was mistaken." 

lie returned to his easel. Ilis mother looked at him 
anxiously, but asked no further qucstidtis. 

** It is the same thing," she continued, after a pause, 
**yoa have a beautiful voice also, and I lovo to hear the 
pretty songs that }'our poor father sang so well — only a 
year ago, at this time I " 

** Yes," said Julien, **you want me to sing. his songs, 
and then you weep. No, I will not sing them." 

**I wiU not shed a tear, I promise youl Sing me 
aomething gny, and I will laugh— - as if ho were hero." 

** No, do not ask me, mother 1 It pains me as well as 
yon to hear those songs. Give mo a little time. Let all 
eome about gently. Do not let us do violence to our sor- 


** Julien, you must not talk of sorrow any longer," 
aaad the mother firmly, although in an agitated voice. 
^ I was weak at first, but you will pardon me 1 It was 
no light blow to lose forty years of happiness in a single 
dajl Bot I should have remembered that your loM i«^ 


greolcr than miDO, for j'ou rcmaia to mo ; — wtiilo I — I 
un good for noUiing cxccpliog to lovo rou." 

"And what moro do I roquiro?" inid Julicn, kaocling 
at his inotlicr's lidc. " I know thnt you love mo ns no 
ono over will lore mo. And do not Kiy that you linvo 
been weak. You Iwto buriod your sorrows iu your own 
licart u well oa yon could ; I havo sccu and uudcrstood , 
all your struggles, nnd I Iliank you fur tlicm, uiy poor 
uiollicr I You have given mo strength, and I havo 
needed your support, for I tmvo Lnd to sufTor for you as 
well as myself. Your courage gave ma fuilh lliiit God 
would perform n miiiicle in myfuvor; llint llo would 
prcscrvo your Ucallk and lifu in spite of the modt cruel 
, trials ; and Ho has gmniod mo this reward. You do not 
foci ill now, do you, mollior?" 

"No, my child, I ni« really well I You are right 
in Ihiakiug that God will sustain those who oru true to 
themselves ; llmt IIo will give strength tojhoso who pray 
lor it with (heir whole hearts. Do not lliink that I am 
ivrclchod 1 I linvc wept a grcut deal, — how could I do 
otherwise? IIo was so good, so amiable, so happy I 
Jt seemed OS if ho Imd still nmny years to live. God 
decreed otherwise. I*or iny purl, I have had so much 
happiness in my life, tlutt I had really no right to expect 
anything moro. And God was inoreifiil, even whilo 
afllictiug me, for llo hns lefl me the best, tho most be- 
loved of sons I What right have I, then, to weep, aud 
pray for death 1 Ko, no ; I will rejoin j-oiir gooil father 
, when my hour comes, and when wo meet ho will soy, 
* You havo dona well to live, to linger in yonder lower 
world, for tho sako of our woll-belov^ child.'" 

" You 800, then," said Julicn, embracing his mother, 
" that wa are neither of us unhappy nny longer, and 
that it is not necessary for me to sing for our amuse- 
ment. Wo can think of him without hiiEcrness ; wo can 
cherish each othor without scllishiicss." 

Madam Thierry folded her son to her heart for a 
moment, and they resumed Ihoir dilforent occupations. 

This scone occurred in an old pavilion, datiug back to 
*}»n\ga of I«ouis XIIL, that stood at tho end of Um 


me de Babykme. The most modem Inulding on thb stroet, 
•ad Iho one nearest to the pavilion, was a house now 
demolished^ which was then called the hotel d'EstroUo. 

At the same time that Julion and his mother were 
talking in the pavilion, two persons wore chatting to- 
gether in a pretty little saloon of the hotel d'Estrellc, «- 
a fresh, eosj drawing-room decorated in the taste of the 
latter part of the reign of Louis XVI., — that is, a 
graceful, bastard Greek style, a little cold in the lines, 
but harmonious, and enriched with gilding on a white 
aod pearl ground. The Countess d'KstreUe was dressed 
•imply in a half-mourning gray silk; the Baroness 
d'Anconrt, her friend, was in demi-toilette, — a costume 
adapted for informal visits; that is to say, making a 
great display of muslins, ribbons, and laces. 

** My dear friend,'* she said to the countess, *^ I do not 
understand you at all. You are twenty years old, beau- 
tiful as an angel, and yet you persist in living alone, like 
an insignificant bourgcoise. Your two years of mourning 
have expired, and every one knows you had no occasion 
to regret your husband ; no man ever lived who so little 
deserved regret. He was considerate enough to leave 
yoa a fortune, and that really was the only sensible act of 
his life.'' 

^^ Upon that point, dear baroness, you are utterly mis- 
taken. Tlie cotmt left me a fortune, it is true, but it was 
CDCumbercd with debts. Assured tlmt I might liberate it 
in a few years by making certain sacrifices, and enduring 
eertain privations, I accepted the inheritance without 
close examination ; and now, after two years of uncer- 
tainty, — after endless explanations that I have never 
nnderstood at all, — my new lawyer, — who is a very 
honest man, — assures me that I have been deceived, and 
am poor instead of being rich. It was upon this subject, 
my dear, that I was consulting with my lawyer this morn- 
ing, in order to decide whether or not I can keep the 
hotel d'EstreUe." 

- ««WhatI sell your hotel I Impossible, my dearl 
It would be a disgrace to the nnemory of your husband. 
|Iie family wonld never altow it." 


" The/ wy tlioy will not allow it ; but Wa&j tay otm 
that (bc7 will not help mo in any wny. What do Ih^r 
expect, nnd what would jrou haro mo do7" 

^'Tlicj nro a contomptiblo set, tUtit famil/," cried th« 
boroncM ; " but nothin;; would mirpriM mo on tbo put 
of tho old marquis nnd his bigot of a wifo." 

At this moment M. Mnrccl Thierry was announcod. 

"Show him in," said tho countess ; and, turning to lh« 
baroness, she added, " it is tho person of whom I waa 
just speaking, — my lawyer." 

" In llutt case I will go." 

"That is by no means necessary. He will only h»TO ft 
few words to say ; and, since yon know my positiOD — " 

" You will allow mo to remain. I (hank you with nil 
my licnrt, for I am interested in oU that concerns you." 

Tlio lawj-cr entered. 

He was a fine-looking man, apparently forty years old, 
and unusually bald for that age ; his face was frank, 
cheerful and serene, ahliough he liod a remarkably pen- 
elratiQg, and even scornful expression. Ilis professional 
espcriencos hod made him practical, nnd perhaps scep- 
tical ; but it was evident that tlioy had not destroyed his 
ideal of integrity and honor ; perhaps they had only mode 
bim tho better able to apprcciato and rccogniio that ideal. 

" Ah, well, llonsiour Thicrrj*," said tho countess, 
pointing to a ctmir, "hare you heard nny news since 
morning, that yon lake tho Iroublo to return? " 

" Yes, madam," replied the lawyer ; " II. the Marquis 
d'Eslrello has sent his busiuess agent to me with an offer 
that 1 only await your permission to accept. lie proposes 
to como to your assistance by rcUnquishmg in yom: fnvor 
certain smoll pieces of pro|)eny, not of sufficient value 
to cover the debts that harass you, but which will re- 
lioro you for the momeni, and delay tho salo of your 
hotel, by enabling you to pay something upon account to 
your creditors." 

"Upon account! Is that all?" cried tbo baroness, 
indignantly. *' Is that all tho family d'Estrelle can do 
for (ho wife of a prodigal? It is pcrloctly infamous I " 

"It is certainly not magnanimous," replied Mai«et 


Thierrj, *' but I havo exerted mj eloquence io Tiun, and so 
tlie matter atands. As Madam d'Estrelle has no fortune 
of her own, she is obligod, in order to retain a very mod- 
erate dowrj, to submit to the conditions of a familj who 
powess neither delicacj nor goncfoei^." 

** Saj who possess neither heart nor honor/' replied 
the baroness, rhetorically. 

** Saj nothing at all,^ said the countess, who spoke at 
Jast, after listening with resignation to all that had been 
•aid. ^^ These people aro what they are, and I am not 
the one to judge them, I who bear their name. We are 
atrangers in all other respects, and I hare no excuse for 
complaining, for it is I alone who am guil^/* 

^ Guiltj 1 ** said the baroness, rolling back in her arm- 
diair in hm surprise. 

** Guiltj 1 " repeated the lawyer, with a smile of in- 

^ Yes," repeated Madam d'Estrelle, '* I have com- 
mitted one great fault in my life : I consented to marry 
a man to whom I felt an instinctive aversion. It was 
cowardly. I was a child, and was compelled to choose 
between a convent and a disagreeable husband. Afraid 
of the eternal seclusion of the cloister, I accepted in- 
atead the eternal humiliation of an uncongenial mar- 
riage. Like so many others, I thought that wealth would 
take the place of happiness. Happiness I I do not 
know, I have never known what it was. I was taught 
to believe that it consisted, above all things, in ridmg in 
a carriage, wearing diamonds, and having a box at the 
opera. I was bewildered, intoxicated, lulled to sleep 
with presents. I will not say that I was forced to give 
my hand, for it would not be true. Gratings, bars, bolts, 
the life-king prison of the convent awaited me, in case I 
had refused ; but not the axe of the executioner ; and, if 
I had been brave, I might have said No. We women 
bava no courage, dear baroness, we may as well acknowl- 
odgo it ; we aro not strons enough bravely to sacrifice 
oonalvas; to hide the spnng-time of our youth under 
the Uadt veil ; and yet it would be prouder, nobler, and 
pgfhape tweeter to do this than to let ourselves (all vblXa 





MAI ftlMI 

V>'^'^'7'f -^^ 


■eeording to Act of CoafrtM, (a tho ytu i8|ft» by 
Ctork^ OAct of tho Dblriet Covrt of Hw District of 

■vasartTTrw* mx nmn o. BauAM * oo. 



**That 18 possible/* replied Thierry, **bat the land is 
valuable ; the street is bein;; built up, and it can easiljr 
be sold for the site of a buildiog." 

** Do you think I would allow a building to be erected 
so near me," said Julio ; *^ a house overlooking my gar- 
den, and almost my apartments ? " 

**You would have to require the house to torn its 
bock to you ; there need be no windows except on tho 
street, or overlooking my uncle's garden/' 

''Who? Your uncle?'' said the baroness, disdain- 

" M. Marcel Thierry," said the countess, *' is the near 
relative of my neighbor, the rich M. Antoine Thierry, 
whom you must certainly have heard spoken of." 

*' Ah, yes ; an old merchant." 

'* Ship-owner," said Marcel ; ** he made his fortune 
in the colonics, without ever putting his foot into a vessel ; 
thanks to his skilful calculations, and to fortunate cir- 
cumstances, he has gained several millions by his fire* 
side, us you may say." 

** Present my compliments to him," replied the baroness. 
** And so he lives in this street ? " 

*'His hotel fronts upon the new street, but there is only 
a wall between his garden and that of the Countess 
d*£strelle ; the pavilion is in a comer between the two 
estates. My uncle, I dare say, will be glad to purchase 
this pavilion ; it will always be useful to him, whether he 
tears it down to make room for his garden, or turns it 
into a greenhouse or gardener's lodge." 

*^ The rich M. Thierry then desires this pavilion," said 
the baroness; '* perhaps he has already commissioned 
you — " 

**He has given me no commission at all,** replied 
Marcel, interrupting her, with dignity; *»he knows 
nothing about the affairs of my other clients." 

*^ You are his lawyer, then, also ? " 

** Naturally, madam ; but that would not prevent mo 
from asking the highest possible price, if the countess 
chooses to sell ; nor would he owe me any grudge upon 
that account. lie understands business too well not to 


know tha ntloe or a piece of real eatato that be wiibaa 
to own." 

" But I bare not yot doddod to sell tho pavilion," laid 
the GOUQtcM, slortiag from a raguo rcvcrio ; ** it does not 
tivnUla mo in anj way, and I undorataod that it is occu- 
pied bjr a vcrj quiet and doserring porsoD." 

" Yea, nuLdam," taid Marcel, " but tho rent ii ao amalt 
that it wiU odd but little to yonr income. HowoTor, if 
JOB dwoae (o keep it, it will be aioful as BOcnritj for one 
of jour dcbta." 

"We will aeo about it, M. Thiorry. I will tbink tbe 
natter orer, and 70a will give me jronr ndvico. How 
noch ia the property that the marqnia haa given me 

" About tbirif thonsand franea." 

"Ousbt I to Ibank him for it?" 

" If I worojroo I would do DOthing of tho kind," cried 
the baroDcaa. 

"Tbonk him bj all mcana," aaid the lawyer, in a low ' 
Toiee; "a word of gratiludOi oxproiaod wiih goatle* 
neai and reaignation, can do no harm, and it will coat % 
heart like foura nolliing." 

The oountoaa wrote a few linoi, and gave them to 

" Let ua hope," ho said, rising, " that tho Marqnia 
d'Ealrelle will bo louchod bj your goodness." ■ 

" lie is not a bad nwn," replied Julie, " but ho is very 
old and verjr feeble, and his aecoud wife governs hiia 

"That ox-Madam d'OrUnde is a veritable post," cried 
the boroocsa. 

"You should not sajr aaythiag agniust lior, madnm," 
replied Uorccl ; " she belongs to your world, and holds 
eptnioos which you accept as the law and the prapheta." 

"IIow ao, Mr. Lawvor?" 

" She detests now ideas, and regards the priviky^ of 
TMk aa tho holy are of tradition." 

" Do not iosult me by eompariug me with that woman," 
md tho barooeas ; *' bar ideaa may be eorraet, but bar 


cbnclact is nbominable. Sho is avaricious, and it is said 
Tould oven betray her opinions for monoj." 

" Oh, in that case," said SlarccI, with a dubious smilo, 
which iliuhimo d'Aiicoiirt consitlcnjd an expnwsioa of 
homagOi " ' ^'^ uiidcmtaud (hat jron, madam, miut n^ 
gord hor with protbuad avcnioa." 

Ud bowod nnd withdrew. 

"That is quito n wcll>brcd man I " snid the baroness, 
noticing tlic dignity and oaso with which he loft tlw room. 
" la Ills name Thierry ? " 

" Yos ; and that niso of his wealthy nnclo, and of still 
another uncle, who lind n far mora desirable roputatioai 
Thierry, the flowor-pn inter." 

*'AhI Thepoiator? I camo very near knowing that 
wortliy Thierry myself. Hyhuaband rooeivod him in tho 

" IIo was received by every one at all hoors, my door 
child, —at least hy all persons of taste and mind ; for ho 
wns a charming old man, perfectly wcU-hrod, and ro* 
markably agrcoublo." 

" It Bcoins, then, Hint tho Uaron d'Aneourt is not a 
person of luiud and taste, for ho would not invite him — " 

" I did not say ihot tho haroa — " 

" Oil, sny so, say so, if you chooso ; it is tho same 
thing to mo ; I havo kooivn him longer than you." 

Tho baroness had n sovereign disdnio for tho intellect 
of hor hushand, but she pardoned his stupidity in con' 
uderntioD of his roulc ; and, with this two.cdgod reply^ 
slio burst into a fresh, joyous peal of Inughier. 

"Lot us return to ourconversaliou about ihoso Tliio^ 
rys," she said. " Were you ncquaiotcd with tho artist ? " 

" No, I did not have that pleasure. You know tlutt 
tlio Count d'Kstrello was tnken iU soon after our mar* 
riago, and I accompanied him to tlio ballis; bo soak 
into a rapid decline, and tho ood of tho matlor wm> that 
I did not SCO any one." 

" No woudor that you know nothing about tho world, 
sineo you have novor caught oven a glimpse of it. Poor 
little thing I After eacriflcing yourself to make a bril* 
Uant marriage, what a life yon have led I Nor^ng a 

dyinf DMSt wMiing mouraiDg^ ud the botbw of biui* 
IMW. Wa mtut put a stop to tbi* lort of thing, doir 
Jolis ; jroa miut marrj ftgaia I " 

** Ah, HcftTOD forbid I " criod the countera. 

** YoD doa't propoM to livo alooo, aud bnrjr yoonolf 
•lire, U foor ngo ? Imposaiblo I " 

**I euutot idl Tou what Z propoeo to do, for I roolljr 
da BOl know, lijr lifo luis been lo dificront from that of 
nwit jromig womcc, to whom murriago briaj^ wealth and 
libntj, that I do not know m/ owd toatcs. I know, bow- 
•rer, that I wos miscrablo during tlio two yoan of mjr 
' d life, and that I ihonld bo himpicr in my prcsont 
a Ihoa over boforo, wore it not for thcao pcciinioiv 
roMmonts, which onnoj mo cxcocdingljr, oltlMnigh 
Z liT to «ndaro thom without biticrocu. hly mind ii not 
briluont, and my character, perhaps, lacks tUo noccMory 
eloaticity lo onnblo mo to rebound from miBfortuno. 
Obli;;cd lo occupy myMlf to pnsa nwny tho ilmo, I liavo 
acquired a taste lor serious nmuscmonts. I rood a grout 
deal, draw a little, study miuic, and write lottcn to my 
(M conTcut friends. I am acquainted with a few qnict, 
bat cxocUent people, who aro my only visitors, and my lifo 
i> calm and well regulated. I am not nnhappy, and da not 
■nffcr from onnni, and that is saying a great deal for a 
pcrsM who at ono time was always wcoping or yawning. 
Do not, therefore, my door friend, seek to disturb tlu 
placid moooloDy of my cxiBtcnco. Como and seo mo 
whoa yoa can, without intorforing with your ploasorcs ; 
hot do not fed ooxious about mo, for I am really tuj 

** That is all very well for tbo moment, my dear. Ton 
show yourself to bo a woman of character, by meeting bad 
fbrtlUM couragconsly. But there is a timo for cvoiylhing ; 
yov must not forget iho odroDtoges that youth and beauty 
procure, and allow them to escape yon. Your family,— 
TOU will cxcoso mo for saying so, — was not veiy good ; 
but yon derived a distinguished name, at least, from your 
ndaacholy marriage, and a title that elevates you iu th« 
coosidaratioa of the world. You aro a widow, and therO' 
yon have do children, and ihorafiiM 



:j relaiD all tba charm of ^ur youth. Yon have no fortuno 
I of your own ; but, hs jour dowry ia iucnnibcrod with 
Y debts, you cnn voiy woll afford to ronoanco it nnd seek a 
't botior mntch tlioa your first ono. Trust yourself to me, 
~\ ond I will find you a suilablo husband ; I will ngrco to 
\' arrange iba sort of roarrioge that you have n perfect right 
] to look forward to." 

'^ " The sort of miirriago I What do yon mean? I do 
I not UDdoratand yon." 

i " I nicoa that yon an loo chanuiag not lo bo married 
\ for lovo." 

\ " All voiy well ; but I—, shall I bo able to lore the 
. J person lo whom you refer? " 

i " ^Vhy not ; if he is really a man of wealth, and, 
.| above all, of fi^ood family— it would be unpanlonablo in 
I you lo marry bolow your present rank — inslcod of being 
j a epcnUtUrin and n fuol? I will (nku airo to sck-ct sucli 
.![ a person, and, moroovur ii nmn of honor, with oxptiricnce, 
^ knowledge of the world, nnd cuUivalcd tastes ; what can 
,1 you nek mora? You will not require, I presume, a 
;j youthful Adonis, — a hero of romance I Sucit brilliant 
; personages are not oRon to bo met willi ; and, wLcn wo 
'if do SCO them, they are llie last oncH, ns a tistLol thing, 
inclined to select a bride for her bcauiiful eyes. Every 
one, in this ago, is more or less embarrassed." 

'* I tmderstand you," rojilicd iladnm d'Eslrclle, with 

a sad smile ; " you would like mo to marry some worthy 

old gentleman whom you know and csiecm, — for I don ( 

suppose you would aut mo to accept a monster. Thanks, 

my dear baroness, but I do not intend to hire myself out 

again to a sick man for largo fees, and, in plain terms, 

this is what you want me to do. If my father were alive, 

I would do>'oto myself to him joyfully ; I would toad itnd 

nurse an aged friend without repining, but never again 

will I submit to bo the slavo of on infirm and moroso 

tyrant. I fulfilled my sod duties to M. d'Estrclle con- 

Bcientiously, and every one gave mo credit for ray conduct, 

but I shall not resign my present freedom. Although my 

■ parents ore no longer living, I have a few friends, and am 

:f contented in their society. I ask nothing more, ud I b^ 

. 'n 



yon, moet onicstly, sot to trj and mako ms happy ao 
cording to an idea of hnppincM vbich I do not share, 
Ybo aro still, mj friend, wliat I woa at sixteen years old, 
when I married. Itolaining tlio illiuioiu that had beoa 
isstillod into me, — imagining that people cannot live tvilb- 
oat wealth and display, — you ore younger (hon I, So 
mudi lli« belter for yon, since you have married a man 
wbo allows you to gratify all your laates. You oak noth- 
ing more— is it not so? For my port I am more oxae^ 
Ing. I desiro to love. You laugh I Oh yes I I know 
joor Iboorieil 'The honey-moon is short*; you hare 
told mo so a hundred timet ; ' the golden moon is tho only 
ooe that norer fades.' Very well ; if this is so, I am so 
fixdish as lo say that I still wish to lore and to balievo ; — 
if only for a ainj^le day, the first day of my marriage I 
TVithmit this, I know by experience that marringe is a 
■home and a martyrdom." 

" If yon leel so," said the baroness, rising, " I will 
leave you, my sweet creature, to your reveries, nnd hunw 
Viy bog your pardon for having intDmipled them." 

Sha went away very much wounded ; for, although 
fKvokms, she was not without peoolralion ; and she felt 
that the gentle Julie, in this flash of rcboUion, hod spokcu 
tho truth, llowevor, she was not vindictive, and oAor 
an bonr bod forgotten her anger. She even felt a UtUa 
aad i and at moments was ready to say, — 

" Julie is right, perhaps." 

As for Julie, her courage abandoned her «• sooa a* aha 
was loft akiiM ; her pride melted intotears. Shewasonly 
strong in moments of nervous excitement, under the stim- 
alas,perb^M,of a more intense longing for affection than 
slw acknowledged to herself. She was natarmlly gentle, 
and even timorous. She know that the baroness hod ft 
good heart, and did not fear a rapture with her ; bat sba 
aaid in her tun, — 

" Amclie is right, perhi^M 1 I am asking an impoasi- 
UUty i tho advantages of wealth and rank, and lov« as 
wolll Wbo obtains them all? No one in my positioal 
WUla loBgiDg far the ki^test bi^tpiaess, I sk^ P<riMtpa, 


low ATOTTthiDg ; ^ condomti myself to (bo wont Aite of 
ftll, — isolatiaa uiU inolnDcliolf." 

She took Iior parnsol, — odo of thoM old-fnshioiiod, 

while, flat parasols, iliat produced a much protlior oficct - 

ia groon grovos tlioa our modern iniisliToonu, — ftod 

waadcrcd ponsivoly into hor garden. Tlio hook of her 

J liida slippcra patted the grcou turf, her drcu was tuckod 

'1 up gracefully over lior straiglit uadcixikirt ; she wondered 

A Binid tlio lilacs, breathing the spriug air willi a silent 

1 Agony, trembling at th<^ voice of tlie nightingalo, thinlc* 

^ ing of no one, and yet carried beyond herself by on inf 

j mcnso yearning. 

i From lilac-bed to liloc-bod she walked slowly on, natil 
if she approached the pnvilioD, where Julicn Thierry, the 
% son of the painter, the nephew of the rich man, %xA tlio 
\ cousin of the lawyer, whom the roodor already koowi, 
j had been at work an hour before. Uodam d'Eilrolle't 
\ gnrdcQ was uousually lai^e and beautiful for a garden in 
' I Paris ; the regetotion was rich, and it was hud out wiUi 
Ji great taste. Every day she walked through it sovornl 
'}, times, lingering amid the grovjts, and gazing Badly but 
"\ tenderly upon the flowers witli which the turf wns sown. 
I She did not turn aside on approaching tho Louis Xi[l. 
' I pavilion, or feel any anxiety about being observed, — for 
.1 this pavilion had been unoccupied for a long time. Julien 
^ and his mother had been living thera only for r mouth. 
•k Madame d'EstrcUe lind complained to SlorccI Thierry 
'^ that her father-in-law, rather than lose the rent of such % 
\ small buiUling, hod let it to strange tenants. Marcel ia- 
'i formed her that the now occupant was the widow of his 
I uncle, the artist, — a most worthy and rcspoctoble woman. 
<t — and she had been completely reassured by this intelli- 
( gence. Ho did not mention Julicn. Tlie countess did 
I not luiow, perhaps, that tho paiuter had had a son. At 
■i all events, she hod not thought of inquiring about hjm. 
} She had nover seen him at tho windows, for two roosoiu : 
^- in the 'first place she was nearsighted, and the young 
.\ women of that period did not use eye-glasses ; in the soo- 
'J ond place, Jnlisn, knowing that he was in the neighbor- 
X hood of a persoQ of austaro mwmera, had taken great 


pftlu to keep out of eight. At the windows of tlio upper 
etorj Uwlam d'EntraUiB bed aomotimce noticed a IrUjt 
wilh k nuble end delicate face, framod in a white cap, wUo 
bad bowed to ber with polite rcBerro. She had returned 
the ulutaliou of the peaceful widow frankly and respecl- 
fnltr, but ihej had never exchanged a word. 

To-dajr tho windows on the ground-floor were half- 
opon, nod Julie, seeing this, asked horaolf, for lUo flrat 
time, wbjr she had noTer entered into friendly rclatiouB 
with Uodara Thierry. She looked at tho front of the 
little building, and saw that tho door opening into tho 
bottom i>( her garden was locked without, at it had been 
before tbo parilion was occupied. Madam Thierry bad 
but * poor proqmct ; the hotel, and greater port of tho 
lawn, wen in a great measure concealed by tho grove in 
Inmt of tbo pavi^on. She had not even the right to seat 
heraelf in the sun, by tho wall of her own house, at the 
foot of the dowering slirubs that grew there, or to pluck 
tbo flowers (hat thrust thomBclves into her very tipartmout. 
She was forbidden, in tho strongest tonus, by the condi- 
tions of ber lease, from taking a step in tho garden. In 
brief, tbo door was fastened, and tho tooont hod never 
poliiioDed to have it opened. 

In point of fact, the countess had expected somo tuch 
icqnest, and had intended to comply with it; but she did 
not refloct that a feeling of timidity or pride might pro 
vent Uadara Thierry from applying to her. Bho thought 
of this to-day,— on this day of sclf-exanuoation, ^ and 
mroocbed herself for not anticipating the natural desire 
of (be poor widow. 

" If some great lady in distress hod boon in her place," 
•be thought, " I should not luive forgotten the considera- 
tion duo to age and misfortune. This is another proof 
of what I have so oRen told the baronasi ; our minds or* 
perreiled, and our hearts hardened br the aristoeralio 
pnjodices in which wo are educntod. I have been aeUsh 
and impolita in my conduct to Ibis lady, who is said to be 
inlbulelr respectable, and who is very poor. How ooiUd 
IbanboMao fergMfal7 Now,b 

', bowerar, I have an op- 


portiiiiiL}^ of repwriDg; my ocgloct, and I will not lose it, 
fbr I neod, to-day, to 1m reconciled to myiolf." 

Tho conntesB approocliod tho window rcsolately, and 
coBgbod two or ihrco limos, to give intimation of lior 
presence. No one moved, and she ronturad to tap upon 
tho ground-glaiu window-pnno. 

Julicn liad gono out, but Modum Thierry was still in 
Iho studio. Surprised, sbe cnmo forward ; and, whoa she 
saw this beautiful lady, whom she knew very well by 
sight, but to whom sho hod never yet spoken, she threw 
the window wide open. 

" Pardon mc, madam," said the countess, " for intro- 
ducing myself to you in such an informal way ; I am 
still in lialf-monming, u you see ; I am uot yet making 
visits, and, with your permission, I have somoihing lo 
say to you. Can you, without ceremony, grant me a 
moment's inte^^■iew?" 

" Certainly, madam, and with a great deal of pleas- 
ure," replied Slndnm Thierry, with cheerful dignity and 
ease ; not nt nil in the manner nf a petty bourgcoise, d&^ 
sled by tho adranccs of a great lady. 

Tho countess was struck by the refinement of her foco, 
the good taste of her dress, her sweet voice, nod the sort 
of pcrfumo of elegance that seemed to exhale from her 
wholo person. 

" You must sit down," she said ; " I do uot waut to 
keep you standing." 

" But you, madam? " said tho widow, smiling. " Ah 1 
An idea occurs to me. If yon will allow mo, I will 
hand you a chair." 

" Oh, no, do not take so much tronbla." 

*< It la no trouble at all I Ilero is a light caoe-chur, 
and, both of ua together — " 

Both logetlier, indeed, they passed iho cnno^boir over 
the window-t>ill, the one lifting it, Iho other recaiviog it, 
and both smiling at this fiuniliar operation, which seemed 
to place them at once upon a footing of intimacy. 
_ "TbisiswbBtIwaQtedtosRy,"saidMadamd'£strello, 
utting down ; " hitherto, yon have been living in a house 
bekm^ing to the Uarqois d'Estrelle, my foUier-ia-law ; 


i8 AjrroNiA. 

but, firom to-dajy 3roa are linog in mj houso. I do not 
yet know tbo conditions of your lease, but there is one 
of tliem, I prosamei that you will bo willing to modify." 

** Will you be so good as to tell in.e which one, madam ? " 
replied the widoW| loaning slightly forward, while the fear 
of some annoyance cast a shadow over her face. 

** It is this abominable door that offends me," replied 
the conntess ; ** this locked, worm-eaten door that scpa« 
rates as. If you will allow me, I will have it opened to- 
morrow, and I sincerely trust that you will walk as much 
as yon dioose in my garden, whether for exercise or 
amnsement. It will always give me pleasure to meet 
TOO there, and if you will sometimes stop and rest in my 
boose, where you will find that I live very much alooe, I 
wiQ do what I can to make you like tlie neighborhood/* 

Madam Thierry's countenance had brightened. The 
offer of the countess gave her sincere pleasure. To see 
a beautiful garden at all hours^ and be unable to enter it, 
is a sort of martyrdom. Besides, she was deeply touched 
by the grace of Madam d'Estrelle's invitation, and felt at 
once that she was in the presence of a thoroughly kind- 
hearted and amiable woman. Without losing the sweet 
dignity of her manner, she thanked her with grateful cor- 
diality, and they began immediately to converse upon 
other subjects like old friends, so sudden and strong was 
their mutual sympathy. 

** Yqu live done, I understand 1 " said Madam Thierry ; 
**it must be a .temporary arrangement;— you cannot 
like solitude." 

** Not altogether ; but I am afraid of the world, and 
have no oonfidence in myself. And you, madam, do you 
eiyoy society?" 

** I do not dislike it," said. the widow. ** I forsook the 
world for love, and forgot it ; afterwards it sought mo 
oot, and I reentered it without effort and without intox- 
ication. Finally, I abandoned it again, out of necessity 
aad without regret. All this seems a little obscure to 

** I know that M. Thierry was very well off, that his 
■randing was axcellenti that be was eoorted in society, 

ANTONtA. 19 

and reeeirod th« moit cnltivRtod uid boat poopk «t b» 

" But you do not Itoow about our prarious lifo ; it woi 
a good deal lalkod about at tbo time ; bat that was long 
ago, nnd you aro ta young." 

" Wait or momcat," said tbo eonntcu. " I Otk Toor 
pardon for my rorgotfulncu. I romcmbor, now ; yon 
wcro woU-born?" 

*' Yes, I WM ModemoiscUo do Uouil, of a good family 
in Lomune. I sbould havo boon rich nlao, if my mar* 
riago hod not displcoacd tny guardians. M. Tbiony, who 
was tbon a poor artist trilbout namo or position, htul won 
my heart, and I abnadonod my family, part4xl from nil 
my friends, abjured iny rank, to become bia wife. Grad- 
ually bo become celebrated, and, aflcr he hod mode a foi^ 
tuno of his own, I received my inhoritanco. We wer« 
well reworded) tliorcfore, for our constancy, not only by 
thirty years of lovo and happiness, but also by the pros- 
t>erity of our old age." 

"And yet, now — " 

" Oh, aow it is different I I am still happy, bat in a 
different way. I lutva lost my wcll-boloTed companion, 
and with him all that we possessed ; but such great odd* 
soIatioDS remain to me." 

Hadam Thierry was about to spoak of her son, whca 
a valet in livery appeared, and informed the countess that 
her friend Madam des Morges was at her house. 

" I will see you lo-morrow," said JuUe to Uadam 
Thierry, as she rose ; " we will talk together at our eoso, 
either at your bouso or mine. I am eager to know all 
that concerns you, for I feci that I lore you. Pardon 
me for saying this so abruptly, but it is (ho tmth I My 
visitor is an old lady, and I cannot koop her wailing, but 
I shall order tbo workman to be sent to you to-morrov 
without fail, so that your prison moy be opened." 

Uadam Thierry was enchanted with Madam d'Estrello. 
Living, OS she hod done, in an atmosphere of enthusiasm, 
with the man she loved, and that man an artist, she hod 
retained her life and spontaneity, and oho was voiy ro* 
ntontio, «• bowemod a woman who bad HcriAond kmU- 

tioo to lore. Her fint impaUe would hsTO led her to 
ralala what hod occnmd U> her son, with enlhasiosm ; 
bat b« was out, and she took it into her Uend to make the 
jnMt of the surpriM thet she bad just enjojod. Madam 
Tliieny had givon up all her luxuries when they lost 
tbeir fortoiw, and Julicn was often olnnned at the actual 
priratioos that eha was compelled to endure. 

At SAttm, Ihcjr hod had a pretty little house, snr- 
noaded by a beautiful garden, whore she hod cultivated 
irith ber own hands th« flowers that her husband and 
■OD Bsed ■• models. Thej hod boon obliged to sell 
•rerythin;. JnUen's heart wos hoarj when ho saw the 
poor old lady shut op in Paris, in n small parilioa, for 
which they paid lb* most moderato rent. He hnd hoped 
at first that she would bo able to ei\joy tiie surrouniliag 
gardens, especially os the street was obslnictcd with mi^ 
aonry and the molorials for new buildings ; but ttie looso 
infonncd him that neither the Marquis d'EalrolIc, (heir 
landkird, nor the rich Thierry, their near neighbor and 
near relative, would allow them to enter llioir grounds. 

" Ho has complainod bitterly about this closed door," 
■aid Madam Thierry to herself, at she thought of her son ; 
** & doson times he lias been cn^r to go and bog the 
eooDtoss to have it opened for my benefit, promising tliat 
ho himself would never cross the door of tho pavilion. X 
would not allow him to do so, fonring that wo might bo 
mortifled by a refusal. How glad iko will be to know 
that she has invited mo of her own accord 1 How shall I 
' arrange matters so as to Burpriso hiro most agreeably? I 
must give him a commission to-morrow morning, that 
will keep him away while the workmen are busy." 

She Ebrmod her plans, and just thon Julion rotnmed to 
dinner. Tho eaDe.chair was still withont, leaning against 
tho window-sill, and on the ground by tjiis chair lay 
Madam d'Estrella's white parasol ; she hod let it fall, and 
bad forgotten iL Madam Thierry had gone into the 
kitchen to tell her servant, a great Nonnandy poasant- 
giri, to bring in tho ehair. Sbo hod not noticed tho par- 
uoL JnlieD, theroibre, saw these two objects without 
kaowiag what had ooeorrod. Bo gneassd tho tmth in- 


tUntly ; a sndden giddinou, n riolc&t palpitation of the 
heart, acixed htm, ond bis mother Tound him bo overcome, 
•0 agitated, bo bewildered, tliat she was ahirmcd, thiok- 
hig that Bomo misfortuDc had occurred. 

"What is the matter?" aha cried, numing up to him. 

"Ifolhing, mother," replied Julien, atruggling to ovci^ 
coma Lin emation. '■ I camo in quickly, I waa very 
warm, and the cool air of the atudio garo me a chiU, ^ 
I am hmigiT. Come, lot us go to dinner. You can 
explain at tablo the meaning of the visit yon have juat 

Ho lidcd in the chair, folded and unfolded tho paraeol, 
and held it a long time in his hand ; he tried to seem in- 
dtficront, but hia Iiands trembled, and ho could not moot 
hia motlier'e eye. 

^^JUonDieul" alio said to Itorsclf, "can it bo that his 
■trange siidueBS for the Inst firiccii dny^, hia unwillingnesa 
to alng, his stifled aiglis, liis ubstrnctcd mnnncr, his slccp- 
lessDcsa and loss of appetite, nro because? — but ho docs 
not oven kaow Iier, ho lins scarcely seen her even from a 
distance. — Ali ! my poor child, cmi U ho possible ? " 

Thoy went to dianor. Juliru tiucstioncd his mother 
without omhnrrassmeut. She told him nbout the visit of 
Iho countoas with a good deal of reserve, rcprcasiag tho 
cnthueinsm which, but for the diacovory tlint alio had 
just made, or tlio danger that she bcgau to apprehend, 
would have made her eloqucut upon tliu subject. 

Julion felt that his mother was observing him, and 
was very guarded. IIo had never had a secret from her 
before ; withiu tho Inst fuw dnys lie hud Imd odo, and tho 
fear of alarming her taught hiin to disaimuluto. 

"Madam d'Estrcllo'a conduct, " ho snid, "prove* that 
•he is a kind and sensible person. She feels — rather 
lolG, perhaps — the respect that she owes you. Wo ouglit 
to be gratol'ul to her for her good heart. You told her; I 
presume, that I have too much kuowlcdgo of the world to 
consider myself included in the pcrmiiiaion gtunted you." 

" That is understood, as a matter of courw, I did not 
•Ton speak of yon." 

** So much tho bettor 1 Site doei not know, probal^. 

- II r umm— a I 


thai tli«r0 it sach a person ; aody'in order that she ma/ 
not repenl of her kindness, it will be as weli, perhaps, if 
70a nerer speak to her of your son.'* 

^ Wh J shookl I hesitate to speak of him? I will do so 
or not, as it maj happen ; — according to the chances of 

^ You expect to see her frequentlj, tlien? to go to hef 

^Tbero is no sort of doubt that I shall meether in the 
garden ; whether I go to her house or not, will depend 
vpoQ how k>ng she continues to welcome me as she did 

•«Was she amiable ?** 

*^yeiT amiable and very naturaL'' 

^ Is she a person of mind? ** 

^ I do not know ; she seemed sensible/' 

^ Any of the aiTcctations of a great lady ?'' 

** I did not see any/* 

*• Is she young?" 

•• Why certainly." 

•• And pretty, they say ? ** 

** Ah, indeed 1 Have you never seen her ? '* 

** Only from a distance. Tliese windows are always 
dosed, and I have never happened to be in your room 
when she was passing our house." 

^ You know, however, that she passes here every day." 

** You have just told mo so. You must think me very 
eurious about beautiful ladies and their walks. I am 
no longer a school-boy, my dear mother, I am a man ; 
my mind has been matured by misfortunes." 

^ IIos Marcel told you of any new misfortune?" 

*» On the contrary, uncle Antoine has agreed to be our 

^ All, at last I — And you did not tell me I " 

** You were talking of something else." 

** That interests you more." 

**Yes, for the moment, I confess it freely. I am 
really glad to think that you will be able to walk, when 
joo choose, in this garden. I shall not be able to accom- 
pany you sjkI give yon the support of my arm, since — 

ANTOmA. 33 . 

Datnrall; ^ b!iigo I am oot allowod to enter U ; but I shall 
8Ce you taking four walks, and you will return with a 
littlo color and a bettor appotito, I hopo." 

"Appetite I It ia you who havano appotito I To^y, 
Again, you Uavo eaten scarcely anything, and yon said 
thnt you were hungry. Wlioro are j-ou going? 

" To carry madam's parasol to tho portor of (he hotol 
d'Estrelle, It would bo impolite not to return it imnx^ 

" You nro right, but lot Babel lake it. It is osolosi fer 
yoD to show yourself to tho servants of the hotol. It 
might make somo talk." 

Hodnm Thiony took the parasol, and pat it into the 
bands of tho servant. 

" Not liko that," said Julicn, taking it again. *' Babol 
will lomish the silk with Lor worm hands." 

lie wroppcd tho parasol up carefully ia while paper, 
and gave it to Babel, not without regret, but without 
hcBitaiion. Ho saw plainly his mother's anxiety, and 
tried to meet hor eye wiihaat embarrassment. 

Babel was gone ton minutes : longer than was neccssarj 
to moke the circuit of the garden, enter the court of the 
hotel, and return. Finally she reappeared with the par*> 
sol, and a note Irom the countess, 

" Madam, you will need a parasol, since yon are going 
to bo exposed (o the bud. Be so good as to use mine ; X 
want to deprive yon of every oxcuso for not coming to 
visit your servant, 

** Jdub d'Estbeixs," 

Madam Thierry was still looking at Julicn, who, with 
OS much composure as he could command, unrolled tb* 
paper in which ho had wrapped the parasol. As soon, 
however, as her back was lumod, he covered it with 
kisses, like a ronurotie and passionate child oa he was, 
although he claimed to bo a mature man. As for tlie 
poor mother, doubtful and troubled, she said to herself, 
sadly, that every plcMoro in this world has iu corret> 


poodbg danger, Aod that she might have cause to regret 
the amiable advances of her too CDticiDg neighbor. 

The next day, the door swung upon its hinges, the kcjs 
were pkoed in the hands of lladam Thierry, and, pcr- 
soadcd by JuKen, she ventured into the flowering domains 
of the countess. The Utter had promised herself to do 
tho honors of her primroses and hyacinths in person, but 
she had received a visit from Marcel Thierry who gave 
her an unexpected piece of information, that changed the 
current of her ideas and somewhat chilled her seal. 
* The lawyer called to talk to her about her affairs. 
She hastened to inform lum that she had made the nc- 
quaintanoe of his aunt, of whom she spoke in the kindest 
manner possible. 

^^Tliis amiable lady,** she said, ** told me about her 
family, her affection for her husband, and her past hap- 
piness ; she was going to tell me about what she called 
her present happiness, when we were iotcrriiptcd. I 
imagine, on the contrary, that she is very unhappy. Did 
jou not tell me that she had been obliged to sell all that 
she had?'* 

*^That is true,*' replied Marcel, *^but she never lost 
her cheerfulness and courage. There is something in 
the character of my noble aunt that every one cannot 
understand, but which you, countess, can understand 
perfectly. I will relate, briefly, the history of herself and 
husband. My uncle, the artist, was a man with a noble 
heart, genius, and a brilliant intellect, but he was care- 
less, and excessively imprudent. In his youth ho was 
poor ; day by day he earned, at first, the necessaries of 
lire, and afterwards its luxuries. Gradually he allowed 
himself to be carried away by his natural temerity ; and 
as he had rather princely tastes, — that is to say, the 
tastes of an artist, — he soon began to live in a very ngcce* 
able but very precarious way. He loved the world, he 
was admired in society ; he did not visit on foot I Ho 
kept a carriage, he gave exquisite little dinners in his 
S^rvres cottage, as he called it : a beautiful house crowded 
iHth objects of luxuir, and works of art, that cost a for* 
tone ; ho lived so splendidly, in short, that he soon in- 



volred himself in <1cbt. His wife's forluao paid off put 
oblignlioDS, and nllowcd liim to ooniiniio lliis lin^nnloua 
but ngrccnblc cnrccr. Wlicn lio died, lio lind ngnin nccii- 
mulatcd n Uno army of debts. My good aunt foresaw 
their npproactiinrr ruin, but ^va^ unwilliog to snddun hor 
liusbnnd's cnrclcss and frivolous old ago by cxprcssiDg 
Iho Icnst anxiety about Iho Aituro of hor eod. ' Aly son 
ia n ecusiblo young innu,' sho snii] ; ' lio is studying liia 
nrt will) cnlliusinsm, and lins lu much tnlcnt as his fnlhcr. 
He will bo poor, nud will make his forliinc. Ho will 
meet lliQ triula that his father encountered with honor 
and courage, nnd will aclnovo the success Hint ho achieved ; 
knowing him as I do, I cannot fear (hat ho will over ny 
pronch mo for having trusted in his good heart.' Her 
predictions were all fulfilled. When bis fnlber died, 
Julicn Thierry discovered that ho had led bim noihinff 
excepting debts ; ho set bravely to work to pay tbcm 
off honorably, and, far from complaining, assured liia 
mother that slio had dono well in novor contrndiciing tho 
best of fathers. For my part, I do not ngrco wiili him, 
I confess. Tho best of Jntlicrs is ho who sacrificcB his 
tastes and pleasures for iba bcnclit of (hose who are to 
■urrivo him. My nncle, iho painter, was n great man; 
I ought ralhcr to say ix great child. Genius is it very 
bcoutiful gin ; but devotion to thoso you love is still more 
nobis, and (I shall bavo to say it in a whisper) it sccma 
to mo that tho widow ond son of my undo aro much 
greater than ho. What is your opinion, madam?" 

Tho countess bad listened to Mnrccl very attcntiroly, 
bat with a drcnmy expression. 

" I ngrco with you, Klonsicur Thierry," she answered, 
" nnd I ndmiro thoso pcoplo with nil my heart," 

" But it Boems to mc," replied Marcel, " tliol my etoiy 
has mado you molancboly." 

" Tcrhapa so ; it has given me somolhing to think 
about : I nm \tirj much struck, do you know, by 
tho exumplo that fa given by cortain Uvoal Mndom 
Thierry, for iostanco, is like myself, — n widow, and 
rained ; and yet, even under these circumstnnces, she it 
bep^, while I un ikr otberwiae. She is prond to pay 

the &btt of a hntbAiid whom she tcaderljr loved ; — aod 
X^ But I vill not rofer ogain to ibo confosBioD that 
Mcaped nw in joar prcscnco jesterixy. There ii onlj 
ooe greet questioD Ihat I would like to ssk jrou. Ilor 
son, — thii excellent ton of the worthr widow, — where 

**In Pari*, mAdain, where he is hard at work; his 
iMdares, ercn now, are almost equal to liis father's, and 
be ia rapidljr freeing hiniMlf from hii cmbarrasimeiila. 
' He baa infloential (ineitd* who are iaterestod in Iiim, and 
wbo woold avist him nuiro effectual); if ho were lew ecni- 
pglom and leM proud ; but with a litilo lime he wilt maico 
• Ibrtnae in hb turn, He has reduced hia debts to a rcry 
.' trifling mm, and nncle Aatoine, — since he no longer 
rani any risk in doing bo,— has agreed to bocomo his 

"This rich node, tiion, is as timid and economical as 
ibo marquis, my fulbcr-in-law," 

" No, madam ; his soIIisIidcu is very dificrcnt from thnt 
of the marquis, but it would toko mo loo lon^ to tell you 
•bont it now. This is my hour for being at court." 

" Ah, yes, UoDsieur Thierry, another time. Hasten 
to fulfil your duties. Hero are the deeds, ready signed ; 
retnm sood." 

" Aj soon OS your affairs require it, mndom ; rely upon 
my panctuality." 

" Do not be so ceremonious. Come williout regard (o 
btisineas, wbcnoror you have time. I owe you a great 
deal, Blonsienr Thierry. You havo not only given Die a 
clear idea about my situation, which it was very necessary 
ibr mo to have, —yon have giren me good odvice also, 
end hare not urged mo to pursue a dishonorable course 
ia order to scrre my interests. I feel that you have some 
csaeem for ma, — a little friendship, periiaps, — and I 
lliank you with all my heart." 

The countess had a way of saying these, simple things, 
that made them irresistible. Chaste and dignified in all 
Imt actions and in all her words, there was, norcrthelesa, 
» Mft of agitetioB and tenderness in her manner that 
■eitiil ■ hnait Inn fnll. — a heart that ia aeeking to plaoa 


worthily ita overfloiviDg affections. Tlio baronoM would 
ccrtainlj have considered her loo affcctionato and too 
grnleful to this iDsignificant lawyer, only loo highly hon- 
ored in being allowed to serra her. Slie would have (old 
herthftt it is oot right (o Bpoil people of this deacriptioD, 
by letting them mo that they are necessary to yon. 
Julie, sun of herself, and always modest and humble, 
was not at all afraid of degrading her friendship by be- 
stowing it upon an honest and intelligent man. An inteii- 
sible but rapid reaction was going on within her, as we 
have already seen, against the decrees and customs of the 
world in which she hod hitherto lived. 

" What an amiable woman I " Marcel Tliicrry said to 
himself, as he left her ; " the devil take me, if I were not 
a lawyer, husband of the best woman in tlio world, and 
father of a grown lad, — cxccllont guarantees for tliA 
solidity of a man's character, — I should bo in love with 
. this coon tcss ! There is no doubt about it, — madly in 
lore 1 I will tell my wife so this evening ; slio wilt laugh 
heartily at the idea." 

** How was it," thought Madam d'Eetrollo, at this mo- 
ment, " that I should havo foikd lo ask M. Thierry one 
thing, which it is important for me to know? I tliou^iht 
of it, and then forgot it. I shall have to inquire. If this 
young Tliicrry is living witli his mother, it will not bo 
proper for him to take his walks in my garden. ARer 
• all, he may ho a mere boy. Did Tliiorry say that he 
was a young man ? His father, was very old I Did he 
say that ho was so old? I really cannot remember. 
Well, my people will know. Servants know ororything." 

She rang. 

" Camillo," she said to her femma tZa ehambrt, " has 
Madam Tliierry, —the lady who lives in the old pavilion 
at the foot of the garden, and a very worthy person, — 
has she any children? I was talking to hoe yutarday, 
but I forgot to ask her." 

" She has one soA," replied Camille. 

"How old, about?" 


**I7o, mttdmn." 

**'Wber«doca bfllivo?" 

** In the pavilioD, with his motUer." 

** Is lie WGll-bcbiiTcd ? What u said of him ? " 

** lie ia TC17 vell-bchnTcd, madam. Erery ono apcobs 
well of tbcM people. They ore rcry poor, but they pay 
aU their debts, atid pay promptly. Moreover, ihoy nro 
not aivpieious or mean. One would really think that 
Ibey were welt-bom." 

Cvnilie was not seeking to flatter her mislross by 
■peaking tbus. She, also, bad pntoasioDS to good birth, 
amd a reretse of fortune. She cbiimed to have bad 
•Idermen among her aaccstora. 

"JAm Dint/ Camillo, birth is nolbing," said the 
eoantcss, who wu oden made impatient by ilio airs of 
ber chambcrmoid. 

** FardoD mc, madam," replied CamiUe, ofl*eQdod, " I 
thoagbt it was everything." 

"Just as yon please, my dear. Go and bring mo my 
gray parasol. People novadays, — one and oil of them, 
— have so many afibclations," ihonglit Tklailam d'EstrclIc, 
** tbat they will di»;^t mo with all prejudices, and maka 
me admire Jean Jnc<iucs Rousseau more than is rea- 
sonable. Kcally I luTO already beg:un to ask myself 
wbelber wo nristocrats do not belong to the past, and 
vbelber our throadbora prctoiuioDs are not beginning lo 
be f;ood for nothing, except to amuse our valets." 

She took her gray parasol with a feeling of vague an- 
Dojsnee, and sot down in her drawing-room, open to the 
April sun ; she must no longer walk, she said lo herself, 
in Iba direction of iho pavilion, and perhaps ought to 
give up entirely going into her garden. 

Just at this moment who slionld appear but Madam 
Tbieny. Not meeting tbo countess, as she oxpocled, slio 
bad ventnrcd to come lo bcr house, in order to express 
ber gratitude. Madame d'Estrelle received her wilb 
great poUteaess ; but the widow was loo penetrating not 
to &el a eertoin eoldness in her manner, and she was 
■euvely aeated when she thanked her, and arose to go. 

•* Mist yw fo ao aooD 7 " mM the connlMs ; " you find 


me dull, I ana sura, and I ackooivledge lliat I fed a litlla 
otnbarrasscd witli yon lo-dn/. 'ilicro is Minciliing weigh- 
ing upon mj mind tliat Iroublca mo. Coran, I will toll 
70U at onco wliiLt it is, nad lot us liavo dono with it for- 
OTCj;! you will pardon mo. When I spoko to 70a 
ycatorday I did not know ibnt you hod a Bon, — a 
V017 oxcolloat young man, I am told, — living with 
' you^" 

"Lot mo My tho rest, countow, you are ofraid— " 

" Oh, mon DUy, I I am arrnid pooplo will talk, that ia 
oil. I am yonng, alono in tho world, boariaj; tho luuno 
of a family who received mo with rogrot, — I learned it 
only too Inic, — and wiko blnnio mo for l>oing unwilling 
to pass my widowhood in a convent." 

" I know it, madam ; my nopliow, Harcel, has told mo 
your hialoTy. I am as anxious to guard your rcpnlation 
as you can be, and I will not allow your goodness (o lead 
you too far. You must not como to tho pavilion again 
wliilo I am living there, and I must giro up walking in 
your garden, and visiting you. This is all that I mod 
say. It is not noccssary to add that my son novor 
drenmo<1, for a single moment, of considoring himself 
included in tho pormisaion you so graciously granted mo 

" Then it ia all right," cried tho countess ; " tho latter 
point is all that is nccossaTy. I thank you for your deli* 
cacy iu excusing mo from returning your visits, but I 
shall agreo to nothing more. You must walk in my gar- 
den, OS wo orrnnged, and you must visit mo." 

"I should bo wiser, i)erhnps, to refuse your kiadnoiB." 

" No, no," replied Julio, gnyly i " you must come, ^Ji 
insist upon it I If you refuse, I shall havo to go in 
■esreh of you, and (np at your window again, and that 
will bo vcTy compromising. Now we will see," sho 
addod,laughing, " whether you want mo to bo slandered 
for your soke. I warn you (hot I am capable of any- 

lladam lliiorry could not resist the charm of hor gen- 
eious simplicity. She yielded, but not without prora- 
isiDg beiwdf, secretly, that she would fly to tba other end 


tt Rmi, if JnliflD'a pauion proved to bo uTthiDg mon 
Ihui a dreun of her maUmal im&giDntion. 

" Now," Bud the conntoM, " let dh regalato at onco 

tbe eooditioiu opon which we ore to he neighhors, so B4 

. to do awmjr with ell fear of ecaodal. The Mrilion bu 

obIt (am windows oTerlookiog mj gardea. Two below, 

^1 do not koow the promises—" 

**Tbe two wiadows oa the groaod-floor aro in m; 
•on** stitdio and mjr drawing-room. Wo aro nlwajrs 
tbere ; b«t there is a fnuoe in the lower soah of the win- 
dows caatainins four panes of gronnd-glasi, and we onljr 
■dnut tbe air ihrongh tbe upper panes, which are often 
opea at this soascw." 

*'Tbeii joa eanoot see into my gronnds, after all! 
Testerdaj, bowerer, tbo groand^lass panes were lifted ; 
tbe window was half open." 

" It is tme, madam, ono of tbo panes was broken, as 
JOQ may haTO noticed." 

"Ko, I do not see well, and for that reason I seldom 
obsem closely." 

"I opened the window yesterday, ns an cxccplional 
thing ; early this morning it wns repaired, and fastened as 
nnal. It would inicrforo seriously with ray son's paint- 
ing to admit the light from below ; and, in fact, ho hangs 
a enrtaia of green linen before the ground-glass panes, to 
exelude it more effectually. lie would have to mount 
npoa a diair, therefore, for the express purpose, ia order 
lo look into yonr garden, and as my son is a serious man, 
and not at aU an awkward school-boy — " 

" Eooagh, enough I I am perfectly satisfied about tbe 
(nMutd^oor. Tbe windows above — " 

**Ai« ia my dkamber. My son's room is upon tbe 

** And doea be DOTor go into your room? Will you 
prouuse me that no one in my house shidl ever see a 
Bsan at your windows } " 

** Tbat has norer b^penad, and never shall happen, I 

** And be will never come to the door opening into the 
pfdsar Yoa will tell bim to b« guarded? " 



" Be pbrfedljr at case upon that poiqf, madaiw. M7 
SOD is a man of lionor." 

" I do not doubt it. Warn liim not to call mioA in 
quest ioD, Aad qov Bay do mora about it ; (hat ia to tKf^ 
do not talk about me aoy longer ; to forbid you to ipeak 
of him would bo too cruel. 1 know that lie is your prido 
aud happiness, aud I coDgratulale 70a npou having so 
good a BOD." 

Madam Tliiorry had prnmiscd licreclf that slio would 
not say a word about Julicu, but it was impossible for 
her to keep lior word. Bciiccnt at first, sho soon began 
to express her idolatry for tliia worahippcd eon, bo woll- 
bcloved, aud so well dcscrviag lier aSbction, The 
countess listened (o iho cDumcralioD of the talcats and 
virtues of the young artist wit bout any misplaced delicacy. 
She became a little melancholy, however, when the idea 
occurred to her, that she, pcrhnps, would nerer have any 
children to occupy her joutli and console her old age. 
Uadam Thierry diviued her thoughts, and spoko of somiy 

And what was Juliou doing while they were talking 
about him in thoijillo summer drawing-room of the hotel 
d'Estrello? He was at work, or pretending to bo at 
work. IIo paused frequently ; thought it too iiot and 
then too cold, and trembled nt lUo least sound. IIo said 
to himself that the countess might, by chance, bo uttering 
his name at tliat very momonl, that she was perhaps osk- 
iug questions about him, out of politeness, nod without 
liHtcning to the raply. Finally ho wont to the window, 
Tho lotrcr Bosh was really fastened, and covered with n 
piece of green linen, but iu this linen tliora wa« an 
mipereeptiblo flaw, in the ground-gloss tlicro mu a 
transparent Tein> nnd through this perfidious fissure, 
skilfully discOTcred and skilfully concealed, ho saw 
Madam d'Estrello every day woudoring amid the grovos 
of her garden, and strolling along tho walk whicli, from 
the pavilion, was plainly vistbto. IIo know to Iho mo- 
ment at what hours she usually walked, and if, for any 
reason, she made her appearanco unexpectedly, the mya* 
lerious prosentiments, the thrilling inhutiona that beltmg 


vHj to Ion, wd »boT« kU to a flnt love, iranwd him of 
bar •pproaeh. At tadi monMnU ha hod b tbonsuid ox- 
eOMS, cacfa man ingonions than ihs but, for aToiding hU 
SMMber's TigDant oyo, and contomplating Lia beautiful 
ti^hHir ; wbao eTWTthing alw failed h« woDt up stain, 
ptftiHJTTg that be wanted aomethiog in hia room, and 
goiaf ioetead to hia mother** room, — she remaining bo- 
low,^gaied upon her through the blinde. Inawoid, be 
had admd Julie for the laat flUeen dani and Jnlio did 
not know that he had over aeen her ; and Uadam Thierrjr 
waa deceiving bor iritboat knowing it, when she declared 
tfcat her aon eoold not lee her garden from hit itudio, and 
»nwt looked from the windows of ber chamber. 

JoUan waa remarltablj aenuble in moat reBpods, and 
thtre waa aomething in the sudden passion that bad token 
peaaeaaion of him that seemed even to himself almost 
insane, or at least inexplicable ; but every effect boa ila 
canae, and it is our duty to seek the causo of bis love, 
'0 admit that any human experience is nltogotber 

It was a 

it was a frcqnent custom with Marcel Thierry to spend 
part of the evening, — aometimes alone, and sometimes 
accompanied by bis wife, — with his aunt. Julien and 
ba loved each other tenderly, and, although thoy oflcn 
dtaogreed, Marcel considering Julicn loo romantic, and 
JoUmi considering Marcel loo practical, ibcy would have 
died for each other. The lawyer liked to talk about hie 
proAssioD, in which ho was rapidly gaining distinction. 
Ila amused Jnlicn by giving him a description of his 
▼arioos clients. "There are some of my clients," ho 
■aid, "whom I find it more honorable than profitable to 
•erra, and these are precisely the ones whom I esteem 
Iba moat highly." The Countess d'Estrello he placed first 
ia rank among these clients who brought him no law- 
aoits, bat whose society he found agreeable or advan- 
tageooa. Ha spoko of Madam d'Estraile very otiou, and 
in anihnsiastie terms, ^ he reforrod with the utmost con* 
tampt to tlie unworthy husband of this beautiful widow, 
ha Moooncad bitterly the inhomaa avarice of his family, 
1 the hi^Mst admiration fbr Julie's tweet and 



noblo character, and involuDtarily referred wa often to her 
beauty and grace, that Julico felt curious to see her. As 
Boon OB his wish was cratified, ho fell in love ; he majr 
bavo loTcd her unconscioiuily oven before this. 

Julieo had never loved. Ho bad lived simplf and 
honorably \ be had jiut oxpcricnccd a great sorrov, and 
was in all tlie plenitude of his physicnl and moral devcl- 
opmoQt ; his sensibility was stimulatod by the couragooos 
elTorts that ho had made, by tho lifo ha was leading with 
his mother, — a life made up of a continual cxcliango of 
tcndemcM between the two, — and by a disposition to 
enihosiasm Ibat ho hod acquired in bis long intercourso 
with an colliusioslic father. Since his father's death hs 
hod lived like a hermit ; denying himself every omusa^ 
mcnt, and working desperately to preserve the honor of 
his name, and save bis mother from distress. It was 
absolutely necessary that oil these ropreesod emotions 
shoald find a vent ; bis generous heart was full to ove^ 

Wo shall say no moro about it ; we have spent too 
much time olnady in expUining an experience which 
people call impossible, and see every day ; — on obstinate, 
violont, ungovernable passion for an object that is known 
to be unattainable. Loug boforo this, la Fontaine had 
written those sensible lines, which have over since been 
proverbial I 


WniLE the eounleas vu eonrcraiii^ with Madam 
Tkierrr, Mid whilo Julion waa holding communion 
with hiinaelr, Mnrcol, not far oF, yftu talking with liis 
tmclo, Antoioe Thionj, tho old bncholor, tho ox-sbip- 
owner, — tho weahhj man of tho family. 

Kind rcwlor, — u it wa« Iho fashion for autliora to say 
•t tbA limo when onr ttoiy occurrod, —bo m good as to 
faQow us to (ho tob Blomot. Loavo tho hotel d'EalrolIo in 
tbo nio do Bahylono, walk for about flro minulcs around 
tb« wall of the garden, pass before tlia pavilion Louia 
Xni., follow tho wall of another t^anlcn larger than that 
of Uodom d'EsiroDo, running along nuothcr ronti hoiilorcd 
with grcon turf, — hut mudd/ nnd Grokon up in the middio, 
is prcparatioQ for thoconiiuiiingof tiiocity Htraoi, — turn 
to your kft and cnior onotlicr street bordorod with grcun. 
Yoahavo now tamed tho comer of the nie Blomet, and 
•r« in front of a largo houio in the siylo of Louis XIV, 
This is the old hotel Mclcy, now owned noil occupied by 
M> Antoino Tliiony. If tl. Thierry would have allowed 
OS to cross his immonBo enclosure, wo could have gone 
from Julion's bouse straight across tho nurseries of tiie 
garden to tho back of tho hotel> llut undo Antoino likes 
to bo master of his dominions, and allows no privilogca 
even to the widow and son ofhisbrotlior. Mareol, tlicro- 
fttr*, when be left tho countess, took tho half-city, lialf- 
coantty walk that we havo described, and finally entered 
the cabinet of the rich man, on old boudoir, crowded 
with shelves and etagires oovorcd with sacks of gmin, 
qwcimens of fmit moulded in wax, and bnskots filled 
with horticnlttiral tools and instruments. 

This eabiDOt is tho clioson rotroat of tlio proprietor. 
To get to it yon must cross long galleries and immense 
•aIoods, loMed with giMings and projCotiag ornaments, 
blackened by neglect and humidity. The windows are 
•Iwaya doid, tbe abntler* ore &tst«aed ; the rich moa 

AirrostA. 35 

possos no timo in ttioso mn^ificoiit nparttncnts, Uo ontor* 
tftiiu DO company, gives noithor balls nor dinnor-jxuliot, 
lores no ODc, disInisEs every one. All hia tendcrncu 
ho boMows upon raro flowers and osollc ircea ; ho fools an 
cslccni, also, for fniit-lrcee, nod moditatos incoasontly 
upoo iho pruning and grafting of hiti siilijecta. IIo over* 
sees and directs in person a scoro of gnnlcnora ; jMiys 
Ihcm well, and protects Ihoir families. NoTor talk to 
him al>out taking an iuiercst in people who do not serve 
bis caprices or flatter his runitjr. 

It was clianco thnt first inspired Iiim with his passion 
for gnnlcning. One of the mcrcbnnt-vcssels tnulin j upon 
his cnpital, and for his profit, witli distant parts of tlio world, 
brought him avorioly of seeds from China, ipecimona of 
which he allowed carelessly to fall into n vase filled with 
oarth. The seeds germinnlod, a plant grew and put forth 
beautiful flowors. The ship-otrnor, who luul not nntiei* 
patcd this result, and who never in his life hod looked at 
a flower, took but litllo iuterest, nt first, in tho uiatter. 
But n botanist happened to coll at hu house (n second 
chance), and when Uiis connoisseur saw the precious 
plant, he was enraptured, and declared that it was ab>»> 
lutely Dcw, and unknown in science. 

The lifo of M. Autoine was determined by this di^ 
eovcry. IIo had alwnys.disilaincd flowers : bo will never, 
perhaps, underslnnd tiiom, for he is totally without nr* 
tistio feeling I but his vauity, starving from tho lock of 
nourishment, sciicd upon this windfall ; ho devoted liim< 
self to horticulture because it was his only way of boeom- 
ing famous. 

M. Antoino has a brother who paints flowors, who io- 
terprots them, cherishes them, gives them life. This 
brother is admired ; a slight sketch from hit hand is 
priced more highly than oil the wealth of hia older brother. . 
Tho older brother knows this, and is joalons of liii ro- 
nown. Ho cannot hear art spoken of witliont shmgging 
his shoulders. IIo thinks tlio world foolish and ut^uat to 
bo amused by such trifloc, iustend of admiring tlto foroo 
of character of s man who has hod the ability to nia 
millioDS by his own exertions. Ho is sad, autious. But 

2/i AJfTOJf/A. 

mtUmij an thii i> changed : li« will gain notorietf in 
U> toni. Tbo fiowen that hia brolhor pointa upon con- 
vaa ba will prodoco, — bo will moke Uiom grow ont of 
the aaith ; not common flowers, that every one knows and 
caa name as aooa as tfaejr sea thorn ; his flowerffshall be 
nriiiea, — plants bronght from the fonr quarters of the 
gjobe, — ^anla that botanists will havo to rack their 
braiaa to define, classify, and christen. The most boau- 
tifid of all shall bear his name, ^ his own name I He 
ban been opon tha p<»nt of giving it to acTeral of his fa* 
Torilaa, bat be is in no baste, for arerv jear his ooUoction 
is anrfAed bj soine wonder brought from afar. He can 
aSml to wait, and be is waiting now for a certain lilv to 
bloom, that promises to surpass all the others ; and to 
wbidi, if bis ezpoctations are fulfiUcd, he intends giving, 
in addjtioa to its generic name, the specific name ^ 
Jatoaia Thierrii. 

He baa time enough, and to sparo ; for nude Antoinc, 
although sixty-five years old, is still hardy and robust. 
Ha is a short man, thin, and with quite a handsome face ;' 
ha would be good-4ookiag, but his hands, hardened by 
eoostant dabbling in the earth, his skin tanned by con- 
atant exposure to the wind, his neglected hair, dusty 
dothes, and back bent by physical labor, make him to- 
aemblo a peasant. His manners are rude, his prejudices 
are obstiaato, he has a hard, practical, and fault-Qnding 
mind, and uses incorrect, peremptory, and dogmatical 
language ; so that, in the heart of Paris, and in a palace 
of which he is the careless and abstracted master, he pre- 
aeats the living image of a rustic boor. He never r». 
ceivad any edaeation ; and, in regard to the refinements 
* and al^ucias of life, has remained absolutely stupid. 
Adt ruennce to art or philoeophy makes him almost 
fanoos. He has really a great de^ of intellect, but it 
is axdnuvely eoncontiatod upon practical calculations. 
Hence it is that he has grown rich j henoa it is that he 
haa beeoma a horticultural berniit. 

Ifaroel salatad his uncle abruptly, and without the slighu 
•at defitranoa. He knows that courtesy will be thrown 
•w^ vpOB nnde *"'"■"« ; that i( is only by struggling 


wl(h him obstinately and mdelf, If nocoiurTt that tha 
•z-ship-owDer can b« nuide to yiold in anTthing wba^ 
ever. He knows that liia flnt impulw ia atwa/i to aajr 
no, that no very probably will be his final aoiwer, and 
that, to wring rrom him one poor affinnotire ont of a 
haodrod nogativca, ho must be prepared to fight wilhont 
&intiDg. Marcel is WDll4empered (it is a family trait), 
and his professional bnbils of contooiion, and, above all, 
his habit of flgUtiog with hit undo, make him find a sort 
of rude enjoyment in this occupation, by which an artiat 
would bo instantly repelled. 

*' Look hero 1 ho opened the coorersatioa by my 
ingj "I hnvo brought you something to sign." 
" I shall sign nothing ; my word is enongh." 
"Yes, for those who know you." 
"EvciT' one knows me." 

"Almost every one; but I hare got idiots to deal 
with. Come — sign, sign I" 

"Ko, you might as well talk to a post! &fy word ia 
as good as gold ; so much the worse for thoio who doabt 

"Then you want to see the house atS^vresBoId? Your 
brolhor's creditor will be delighted, no doubt, bat h« 
will have good cause, from this time, to donbt my 

" It seems that you hare a bad ropntotton." 
" Apparently." 

" You don't seem to mind it much 1 " 
" What would you have ? If I talk in a different way, 
you won't sign ; I want to make you sign." 
" Ah, you want it — and why?" 

"Because I wont to escapo the annoyance and fa>* 
tigue of returning to Sevres, and waiting until tho people ' 
there make np thoir minds to come and see yon \ not to 
spook of the deraDgement that this will be to my busi- 
ness. Sending this paper by my clerk will relieve all 
difficulties, and save me trouble and expense. Do yoa 
undersUnd that?" 

" You make mo do whatoTer yoa choose," replied the 
ship-owner, taking his pen. Ha dipped it Ihroa or four 

. jg ANTONZA. 

tinM into the ink withont dccidiDg, rood and nrend 
Um deed innking bim rcsponBiblo for six tliousand livrca 
in behalf of bia bnlhen estate, — looked at Marcel) to 
Ma whether ho woa anxiou or impalieat, and, at iho 
aig^t of hii imputible face, rcaonoccd, with regret, the 
bopa of patting him into a pnuion. Finnllj, he signed 
Um deed, and threw it into hia face, Bajfiog wiib an ill- 
■•hired longb, — 

" Go, beggar I Too nerer enter mj house exeept to 
get iomclbiog oat of mo. Yon might hnro been their 
•oenrilj jromiwlf, ^yoa ant rich enough." 

** If X wore, tho olTair woiild hare been aettlod long ago ; 
joamajr be smnof thoL I havo not jret paid off my own 
obligotioDS, and con no longer hide from Jnlicn that wlrnl 
I have done for him lias embarrassed me. IIo is troubled 
•boat it, hi« mother is grieved—" 

"Oh! his mother, — liis motlier, — "said the rich 
mao, with an expression of prafouod aversion. 

" Ever/ one knows (hat you dislike her, nod sho will 
Dover ask any favors from jou, — jou need not bo afraid'; 
bat, with your pcrmisaion, I love my aunt, and Julicn 
vonhipe her, lie wilt pay the whole debt bimsclf before 
two years oro passed ; if necessary, I will liclp him, and 
joa, I flatter myself, will have notlibg to disburso." 

" I do not flatter myself with anything of the kind. 
IIoweTor, I will render them ibis Mrviee, — but it shall 
bo the last." 

" And the flrtt also, my dear uncle." 
Uarcel, by this time, had folded the deed and put !t 
in his podcot ; leaning bit elbow upon the table, and look- 
ing his onde straight in the face, lie added, — 

" Do yon know, my good uncle, that you would have 
been a groat bruto if yon had allowed your brother's 
eMotry-hooM to be sold ? " 

** Ah I tliat is what yon are coming to," cried M. An- 
toiao, rising, and strikbg tho table a blow that would havo 
docM erodit to'the fist of a peasant. " Yoa want me to 
■paod mj moavj, gained by the sweat of my brow, in 
paying the debts oif a speDdthrift ? When was it necessary 
far aitiili to han howM of Ibeir own, to All them with 

•>i, I 



vain baubloa moro prociotis than tho cjos in thoir hoods ; to 
havo ganlcns ^vilh bridp^cn nnd ttin*ctii| when (hey cannot 
raiso a einprlo lettuce? What is it to me, ahhotif^h my 
brother's folly is sold, an(l although his widow con no 
longer havo first*rato cooks in her kitchen, and great 
lords at her table? They were very well pleased, no 
doubt, when they were entertaining counts and mar- 
(guesses, and when madamo could say, * My house, my 
people, my servants I ' I knew very well, for my port, 
what such extravagance would lead to. And look at 
them now, crying out for tho help of tho old rat, who, 
despising tho world, disdaining luxury, and devoting him-, 
self to useful works, lives in his comer, liko a wise 
man and a philosopher. Tliey bow tho head, they hold 
out tho paw, and ho who would not give out of pity, 
— *such people do not deserve pity, — ho gives out of 
pride. It is in this way that ho revenges himself. Go I 
repeat that to your aunt, tho beautiful princess in dis- 
tress I Your brute of an uncle gives you this eonunis- 
sion. — Off with you, dog of a lawyer I what do you mean 
by trying to staro me out of countonanco ? " 

In fact. Marcel had fixed his small, gray, brilliant eyes 
upon his uucle's face, and was studying it as if ho would 
have liked to read bis very soul. 

*^ Bah I " ho said, risiug suddenly ; ^* you aro a very hard 
man, a great brute, I repeat ; but you are not so wicked 
as you pretend I You havo some cause for hating your 
sister-in-law that no one knows anything about, and 
which you do not acknowledgo, perhaps, to yourself. 
Now I intend to find out your secret, my dear uncle, you 
may bo sure of that, for I shall make a special business 
of it ; and when I set about a thing I am liko you, ^ I 
never give it up." 

Marcel continued to watch tho rich man as ho spoke, 
and ho noticed a remarkablo change in his expression. 
Tho coarse flush that had covered his face, burnt by tho 
sun of tho early spring, was succeeded by a sudden pale- 
ness. His lips trembled, ho pullod his hat over his black| 
bushy brows, and, turning his back upon his nephoW| 
went into tho garden wit£>at a word. 



Otfdens imiUUingUieqrlvaa stjrle of Trianon, with arti- 
ficial lodu, fanUstao edifices, and miniatiire cows of coarse 
earthenware, IpDig on the green grass, were the rage at 
thai timey bat H. Antoine's was not of this description. 
Nor was it, like that of the hotel d'Estrelle, an undulating 
ktwn, with winding walks, groves regiUarlj planted, and 
broken odnmns reflected in limpid pools ; one of the first 
p i c tui ee qu e attempts in the style of the modem English 
garden. Neither did it diqplaj the old-fashioned square 
beds and long regular borders pf the time of Louis XIV. 
The ground was cut up and intersected according to the 
taste of IL Antoine. Ererjwhcre you beheld baskets, 
hearts, stars, triangles, orals, shields, trifoils, surrounded 
with green borders and with a labyrinth of little paths. 

Flowers of every variety, ^ all beautiful or curious, — 
^ttersd in these strange beds, but they seemed to have 
lost all their natural grace. Imprisoned under bulrush 
cages, brass net^wire, reed parasols ; protected and 8up« 
ported by props and stays of every description, preserving 
them from the stains of the earth, heat of the sun, and 
rode caresses of the wind, they no longer looked like 
themselves. Uis rose-bushes, cut and pruned every hour, 
were so clean and shining that they looked artificial. 
His peonies were as large and round as the tufts on a 
grenadier^s cap, and his tulips glittered in the sun like 
tin-foil. Around the flower-ffarden stretched immense 
^Binrseries, poorly clad with foliage, and as melancholy as 
rows of pickets. This spectacle delighted the ^je^ of the 
borticnUorist, and dissipated his melancholy. 

There was onlj one agreeable walk in this immense 
eodosure, and that was in the comer of the garden next 
the pavilion occupied bj Madam Thierry. There, for the 
last twenty years, M. Antoine had acclimated omamental 
and ezotiQ trees. These trees were already well grown, 
and east a fine shade ; but, as they no longer required 
careful and minute attention, he had ceased to feel the 
least interest in them, and greatly preferred the seed of a 
pioe-lree or a newly-sprouted acacia. 

Hie greenhouse was marvellously beautiful, and it was 
thare tiMl he hastened to bury the bitter memories that 

^1. / 

ANTON I A. .41 

Marcel had awakened. Ho walked through the depart- 

^ ment of his favorite plants, — lilies, ^ and, aAer assuring 

himself that those in hloom were in good condition, he 

• paused before a little china vase, where an unknown bulb 

' was beginning to put forth slender shoots of a dark and 

brilliant green. 

'' What wiU it bo like ? " he thought ; «« wiU it make 
an epoch in the history of horticulture, like so manj 
plants that owe their renown to me? It is a long time 
since I have produced anvthing now in my establishment, 
and it seems to mo that I am no longer talked about as 
much as I ought to be." 

Marcel, in the meanwhile, went awaj absorbed in 
thought. There was one curious feature in the avarice 
of M. Antoine, and thb was that he was not avaricious. 
He did not hoard up his money ; ho did not practise 
usury, and had never done so : ho denied himself nothing 
that he took a fancy to, and sometimes, out of vanity, ho 
did good. How was it that he had refused to purchase 
the property of his defunct broUier for his nephew ? This 
act of liberality would have caused him to be talked about 
more widely, and with more admiration, than the future 
AnUmia Thierriu Vfhy had he allowed such a fine op- 
portunity of gaining notoriety to escape him? This point 
Marcel sought in vain to explain. He knew that the ship- 
owner had always been jealous of his brother ; jealous, 
not of his talent, — for that he despised,^ but of his 
celebrity, and the favor with which he was received in the 
fashionable world. But surely this jealousy must have 
died with the old Andr6. Why should his widow and son 
reap the sad inheritance? 

A thought occurred to Marcel : he turned back, followed 
M. Antoine to the greenhouse, and, interrupting his hor- 
ticultural reveries, said, in a cheerful tone, — 

** By the way, uncle, do yon want to purchase the 
pavilion of the hotel d'Estrelle? " 

** Imbecile I If the pavilion is for sale, why didn't 
you tell me?'' 

** I forgot it. Well then, how much will you give fi>r 


M now madi it it worth 7 ^ 

^ I hare told yoa already. To tho Couotoss d'EstrollOi 
wlio has just accepted the property, it is worth ten 
thooMuid francs ; as you are anxious to get it, aud are 
in waut of it, it is worth douhle that to you. It remains 
to be seen whether the countess will not ask yoa three 
times as mocb.^ 

**0f coarse I That is tho way with your great 
ladies I Th^ are sharper and meaner than the plebeians 
they demise. 

**T1m Countess d'Estrelle despises no one." 

**It is fSdse! she is just as great a fool as any of 
tbenu She has lived at the hotel d'Estrelle four years, 
and, daring aU that time, although there is only a wall 
b e t w e en as, has nerer had the curiosi^ to come and see 
Biy garden." 

** Perhaps she don't know anything about rare plants." 

^ Say, rather, that she would consider herself disgraced 
if she set foot in the house of a plebeian." 

^Ah! You want a young woman in mourning to 
compromise herself by coming to walk in your gai^en, 
—a bachelor of your ago." 

** My age I Are you joking? How could a man of 
vaj age be talked about?" 

** There is no knowing I Yon were a volcano at 
ooe time." 

^ I ! What are yoa talking about, animal? " 

**Yoa will never make me believe that you have 
never been in love*" 

** What do you say that for? Surely I have never 
been in love. I'm not such a fool." 

^That is all false. Yon may call yourself a fool as 
much as yoa choose, hot you have been in love, at least 
once 1 utaj it if yoa can," Marcel added, as he saw 
that the horticoltarist was again becoming pale and 

^ Have done with this nonsense f" replied uncle An- 
totae, stamping on the sround with vexation. ** You are 
tho lawyer of Madam d'Estrelle ; are you commissioned 


** No, but I Imvo a right to oflTor it I *HoMr much will 
you ffivo for it?" 

** Not a sou I Take yourself olT, oud Icavo mo in 

** I am at liberty, then, to offer it to another pur- 

"What other?" 

" There has been no applicant as yet. I havo no taste 
for trickery, and will not betray your interests ; but you 
know, as well as I do, that they are building up the stroeti 
and that, this evening or to-morrow moroing, a dosdn 
would-be purchasers may be quarrelling over the pavilioii.'*^ 

" If Madam d'EstreUe chooses to enter into negotia- 
tions with me ^" 

" You want to pay her a visit? That can easily be 

"She will receive a visit from me?" said M. An* 
toine, his eyes lighting up for an instant. 

** Wliy not?" said Marcel. 

"Ah, yes! she will grant me an interview in her 
court, or, at the most, in her ante-chamber ; — she will 
stand up between two doors and receive me, as she would 
a dog, — or a lawyer I " 

" You think a great deal of good manners, then ; you, who 
never take your hat off betore any one, no matter who. 
But set your heart at rest. Madam d'Estrclle is as polite 
to deserving people of our class, as to the greatest aristo- 
crats. The proof of this is, that she is on the best terms 
with my aunt Thierry ; they are ahready almost friends." 

"Ah! there is nothing strange in that| — your aunt 
is noble. The nobles, — bah! they understand each 
other like thieves in a fair." 

^^ Saprislil uncle, What have you now against your 
sister-in-law ? " 

" I have this against her ^ that I detest her I " 

"I see that; but why?" 

" Because she is noble. Don't talk to me abont the 
nobility. They havo no hearts, and they are all un* 
grateful I " 

** You were in love with her, then I " 



IL Antoine was completelj orereome by ibis direct 
qoetCkm. Ho grew first pale, and then pnrplo, with rage ; 
ks swore, polled bis bair, and cried furiooslj, — 

**8be told yoa so^sbe pretends, sbo dares relate — " 

^ Notbing at all* I bare nerer been able to make bor 
■aja word about yon ; but I bare bad mj suspicions all 
along, ^ and now jou acknowledge tbe tmtb. Tell me 
an aboot it, ande, it will be wortb joar wbile, for tbe 
confession will reliere yon ; at least, once in jour life, jou 
win bare jielded to a good impulse, and wiU be at peace 
witb joorself.'* 

A gdbd balf bour passed before tbe ex-sbip-owner bad 
poqred fortb all tbe spite and bitterness with which his 
heart was filled ; be abused Marcel, Madam Thicny, and 
his defunct brother, with almost equal violence. Marcel 
teased him cmellj ; but finally, when he had succeeded in 
exhausting him, he carried the day. Old Antoine related 
the following story by fits and starts, forcing the lawyer to 
draw firom l^m by piecemeal the secret of his life, which 
was, at tbe same time, that of his character. 

Tbe elopement of Mademoiselle de Meuil and AndrS 
Thierry occurred forty years before the opening of our 
atory ; aAer their fiight, the lovers came to M. Antoine 
Thierry, who, although young, was already a rich man, 
to beg an a^lum. llitherto the brothers liad been good 
firiends. ^uidemoiselle do Meuil was secreted in the 
house of the ship-owner, and regarded him with sincere 
firiendship and lioly confidence. Pursued by the family 
ds Meuil, and exposed to the danger of bciug sent to the 
Bastile, Andri was obliged to leave Paris so as to mis- 
lead bis enemies ; in the meanwhile powerful protectors, 
interested in his favor, endeavored to bring about a 
reconciliation, and finally succeeded in doing so. 

The separation of the lovers lasted several months ; 
and, during this period, Mademoisello de Meuil, a prey 
to the most terrible anxiety, thought several times of 
retnming to her relatives, so as to save her lover from 
the perito and misfortunes that tlireatened him. More 
than ones she discussed her plans confidentially with 
brother Andri; she uked his advice, and did not bida 


from htm her grief and alarm. Thus appealed to, H. 
Antoino conceived a rcallj whimsical idea ; the pUtn that 
the poor man formed was suggested neither bj treachery 
nor passion, bat it very soon brought his morbid vanity 
into full play* But let him speak for himself: 

** That girl,** ho said, ** was lost, although she and 
my brother had never lived together as man and wife« 
She was too much compromised to be received again by 
her family, and could hope for nothing better than to 
be sent to end her days in a convent. My brother 
seemed to me in a still worse plight : they had obtained 
a leUrt de cachet against him, which, at that time, was 
no joke. He might have been thrown into prison at any 
moment, and have lain there for twenty years, — how 
did I know ? — perhaps for his whole life 1 The young 
lady was constantly tolling mo all this herself; every 
moment she cried, ^What shall wo do, M. Antoino? 
Man Dieul what shall we do?' So then the idea 
occurred to me that I would save them both by marrying 
her. I was not in love with her. No 1 Tho devil take 
me if I am lying. She belonged to a good family, and 
that gave her a sort of distinction, — not in my eyes, for 
I have no prejudices, but in the opinion of other people,^ 
and but for that she would not have been worth noticing. 
You laugh 1 What are you laughing at, ass of a 

** I am not laughing," said Marcel. **6o on,^yoa 
told her your fine idea." 

** Plainly and fairly ; I was no more of a fool than my 
brother, and could express myself just as well. Pray 
was he an eagle in those days ? Ho was an insignificant 
dauber, who had not had sense enough to lay up two sous, 
and who had no reputation at all. Was ho more polite 
than I, — younger, — better bred ? We had boon brought 
up together, and ho hadi but one advantage ; I was five 
years his senior. As far as appearances are concerned, I 
was better looking than he ; Andri never was handaome. 
He was a groat babbler, and had always been so ; I did 
not talk so much, but was more sensible. Brothers, bom 
of the same parents, with the same blood flowing in o«r 

46 AmroNJA. 

Teina, we were alike plebciimi. In the meanwhile I had 
alrcadj made nearly a million that no one knew anything 
about I This gare me a good deal of power which my 
.* brother did not possess. With a million you can lull 
jnstioe to sleep, pacify relatires, buy up protectors who 
will not (afl you ; yon can even reach the ear of the kin<^, 
and are qoite good enough to marry a girl of a noble 
&mily with no dowry of her own. If people make an 
ootciy, it is because they would like to have your milliou 
in their own pockets. Finally, my money proved, plainly 
CDOOgfa, that it was not from any lack of mind or genius, 
thai I was not such a fine talker as my brother. All this 
Hm young lady ought to hare understood. I did not ask 
ker to love me immediately, but to love her Andr6 well 
anod^ to forget him, and save him from being sent to 
foi in prison. Nothing of the kind ! She behaved like 
a pmde ; insteod of recognizing my good sense and gen- 
erosity, she fiew into a passion, called mo rude, treated 
like a bad brother and a dishonest man, and do- 
iped from my house without telling me whore she was 
going. Running all sorts of risks to avoid seeing me 
again, she departed ; and, by way of thanks, Icfl mo a 
letter promising never to inform M. Andre of my treach- 
ery. I acknowled^ that I have never pardoned her for 
that, and never will pardon her. As for my brother, liis 
eoodoct in the affair offended me almost as much as that 
of madame. I had no idea of waitiug until his haughty 
wife should betray me. As soon as he had escaped from 
hie troubles, and married, I told him the whole story, 
aa I have just told it to you. Andr6 was not angry ; 
be thanked me, on the contrary, for my good intentions, 
bol he began to laugh. You know how frivolous ho was, 
•»-a weak headl Well, he thought my idea comical, 
and made fun of me. That put an end to our frioDdsliip 
forever ; I would never consent to see either wife or hus- 
band again.** 

^ GmmI I ** said Marcel ; ** finally tlmt mystery is solved. 
Bat Julien I —What grudge can you have against Julien ? 
Ha was aoi bom at the time of your grievances.** 


** I havo no grudge agaiast Jalion, bat ho is tho son 
of his mothor, and I am suro that ho hates mo." 

** Upon my honor, Jalion knows nothing about the 
facts that you haro just reUted ; your conduct since his 
father's death is all that he knows about you. Do yoa 
think he can approve of that? Was it not your duty to 
purchase the house for his mother, when ho swore, in 
the most solemn manner, that he would devote his life 
to paying you?" 

** Fine security, the life of a painter I What became 
of his father, — and he was famous?'' 

** Even if you had lost fifly thousand francs or so, 
you who have more than — " 

** Hold your tongue I The amount of a fortune should 
never be mentioned* When such words are spoken, the 
walls, the trees, the very fiower-pots have ears." 

** At any rate, you are rich enough to have purchased 
the house at Sevres without inconvenience; you will 
acknowledge that?" 

*^ Do you want to make me out a miser? " 

** I know that you are not a miser, but I am forced to 
believe that you are wicked, and that you love to see 
those to whom you are hostile suffer." 

** Well, have I not the right to do so? Since when 
have we been forbidden to revenge ourselves?" 

** Since we have ceased to be savages." 

** I am a savage, then I " 

"Yes I" 

"Gro away, — 3rou have worn out my patience I «- 
Take care that I do not turn against you idso I " 

** I defy you to do so I " 


" Because you know that I am the only person in the 
world who, in spite of all your perversities, feels a litUo 
afibction and love for you." 

" How discerning you are I Ton acknowledge that 
Julien detests me." 

" Make him love you I then you will have two friends 
instead of one." 

** Ah| of coarse 1 yon want me to purchase the hoase« 


Yerj wdl, wheo Julien beeoroen an orphan I will look 
aftar his interests, on conditioa that ho never speaks to 
me of his mother.'* 

** Ton would like him to ktU her, perhaps? You are 
SI fiM^ uncle ; that is the long and the short of it. You 
are ezeessivelj Tain, and you worship rank more than 
those who can hoast of their ancestors. I am certain 
thai you were not in lore with Mademoiselle de Meuil ; 
bat she belonged to a good family, and for that reason 
joa wanted to supplant your brother. You were furi- 
ously jealous of poor Andri, not because yon loved a 
beautiful and noble woman, but because of the parch- 
ments which were her marriage portion, and the sort of 
gkity reflected upon him by her affection. In a word, 
jou do not hate the nobili^ ; you worship them, you 
envy them, you would give aU your millions to Lave 
been bom noble. Your pretended fury against them 
is nothing but the spite of a disdained lover, as your 
hatred against my aunt is merely the malice of an 
obstinate and humiliated plebeian. This, my poor 
mde, is jroor mania. We each of us have one, it is 
•aid, but Uiis of yours makes you a bad man, and I am 
sorry for you." 

Tlie ex-ship-owner felt, perhaps, that Marcel was 
right ; consequently he was prepared to work himself 
up into a more violent rage than ever; but Marcel 
shrugged his shoulders, turned his back upon him, and 
went away without paying the least attention to his 

In his heart, Marcel was very glad to have got pos- 
session of his uncle's secret, ^ the clue to his thoughts 
smd recollections. He promised himself that he would 
tani his discoverr to good account, and, by means of it, 
would lead M. Antoine to amend. Will he succeed in 
tbk eflRMt? The sequel must show. 

'^Madam,'* said Maroel to the Countess d'Estrelle, 
lbs next morning, ** you must sell jrour pavilion." 

^ Why ?** reiOied Julie. «' It is so old, out of repair, 
ood is worth so little r 

^ It has a filalive Talus which you should not despise. 


Mj tmda will give you ten thooMnd firanos for it,— 
perhaps moro.^ 

**This is the first time, my dear lawyer, that 70a 
have giveD me bad advice. I would never consent to 
take advantage of a neighbor. Wonld not that be qpeen- 
lating upon the need that he maj have of this old 

** A little patience, my noble client I My unde does 
not need the pavilion ; he wants it : that, I assure yon is 
a very different thing. He is rich enough to pay for his 
fancies. And what would you say if he thanked you for 
your demands?'* 


**Make his acquaintance, and he will offer you a 
consideration above the price." 

** Fie, Monsieur Thierry I Would you have me pay 
court to his money?" 

** Not at all ; bestow a smile of patronising goodness 
upon it) and it will fly to you of its own accord. Be* 
sides, you will be doing a good deed." 

"How so?" 

*' Show my uncle that you feel an affection and esteem 
for my aunt and cousin, — your tenants, — and you will 
force the old man to help them effectually in their 

" I will do that with all my heart. Monsieur Thierry, 
and I already know your aunt well enough to appreciate 
her. But what can I say of your cousin, whom I do not 

^ " Do not hesitate upon that account. You can take 
him upon trust fearlessly. Julien has a noble heart, ^ a 
lofty mind,— a soul above his condition ; he is the best 
of sons, the truest of friends, the most honest of men, 
and, moreover, the most reasonable of artists. Tou can 
say all that, countess, and if Julien ever gives the lie to 
your statements, I am willing to forfeit your confidence 
and esteem." 

Marcel spoke with so much enthusiasm, that Julie was 
deeply impressed. She refhuned from asking questions, 
but listened, without losing a word, to the oondosioa 




of his eulogy, and Harcel entered into details with which 
WKf one, not absolute]/ incapable of feeling, would have 
been toadied. He told her of Julien's devotion to his 
BOClier, <rf the sufferings ho had endured without her 
knowledge ; how ho even went without food in order tbi^t 
•he might not be deprived of it. In making this stato- 
BMOtf Uarcel, Ifte Madam Thierry on the preceding day, 
mllered a falsehood without knowing it. Julion did not 
because he was in love ; and Marcel, who was far 
suqwcting the truth, thought that he understood the 
of his involuntary austerity. But Julien was cap- 
able of doinc a great deal more for his mother than 
retCraining his appetite : he would have given the lost 
drop of his blood for her ; so that Marcel, although he 
did not state the exact truth in regard to a special fact, 
aCated far less than the truth. 

His panegyric upon Julien was so enthusiastic and 
heartfelt, that tlie countess had no excuse for hesitating. 
8be begged Marcel to inform uncle Antoine that she was 
anxious to see his rare flowers, and to visit his immense 
nod curious plantations. Uncle Antoine received this 
eommunication with an air of haughty scepticism. 

^ I understand all that,** he said ; ** she wants a high 
price for the pavilion ; she will make me pay the eyes out 
of my head for her politeness." 

Marcel was not duped by his grumbling. The satis- 
inction of the rich man was too apparent. 

On the appointed day. Madam d'Estrelle dressed herself 
onee more in deep mourning, stepped into her carriage, 
nod drove to the hotel Melcy. Marcel was standing at 
tho door awaiting her. He offered her his hand, and, as 
Ihoy ascended tho great front steps, uncle Antoine made 
hia appearance in idl his glory, in the dress of a gardener. 
Consid eri ng the folly of the old man, this really was not 
n bad idea. Without oonsnlting Marcel, he had half 
j soolved to amy himself magnificently. Ho was rich 
aoon^ to wear eloth of gold,if ho desired it, but the fear 
of looking ridiculous restrained him. Since he prided 
r, above everything elsoi upon bemg a great horti- 


cultoriflt, he had sense enough to appear before his distin* 
guished risitor in a severely rustic costume. 

In spite of his harsh character and habituallj rude 
manners 9 — in spite of his secret desire to assert his inde- 
pendence and philosophical pride before Marcel, — ho lost 
countenance altogether when the beautiful Julie saluted, 
him graciously, and looked at him with her sweet, frank 
expression. For the first time in thirty years, perhaps, 
he took off his three-cornered hat, and, instead of re- 
placing it immediately upon his head, held it awkwardly, 
but respectfully, under his arm, during the whole tune 
that her visit lasted. 

Julie was above the pettiness of trying to flatter his 
caprices, but she took a genuine interest in the horti- 
cultural wealth displayed to her. A /lower herself, she 
loved flowers ; and this is not a madrigal, to use the lan- 
guage of that epoch. There are natural affinities in all 
the creations of God, and in all tunes symbols have been 
the expression of a reality. 

The rich man, although in himself not at all like a 
rose, felt his heart expand, nevertheless, at the sincere 
praise bestowed upon his cherished plants. In presenco 
of the sylph who seemed to float over the turf without 
touching it, and who glided along the borders of his 
flower-beds like a caressing breeze, he gradually forgot 
his affected pride. With perfect resignation, he waited 
to learn the amount that she proposed to demand for 
the pavilion. 

**By the way,** said Marcel, who saw that Madam 
d'Estrelle had forgotten this affair, **tell the countesS|my 
dear uncle, how anxious you are to purchase ^ " 

^ ** Yes, in fact," said the rich man, without allowing 
himself to be too much compromised, **I have had 
some idea of purclmsing the pavilion of the hotel 
d'Estrelle ; but at present, if madame regrets parting with 

** There is onl^ one reason that makes me do so," 
replied Julie ; ** it is occupied by persons for whom I 
feel a great respeot| and I do not wish to have them 
disturbed*** ^ 


^Tliej have a leaae, I •oppose?'* said M. Thierry, 
wiio knew perfecUj well how matters stood. 

^KTerlainl ji** said Marcel ; ** and you will have to pay 
llwiii a largo indemnity if they conseot to annul it, for 
Ibej hare just entered into possession.** 

^A lan» indemnity?** said uncle Antoine, frown« 

^ I win willingly undertake that dnty,** said Madam 
«Esti«Uo,if— ** 

** If I pay in proportion ! ** 

^That is not what I intended to say,** said Julie, in 
A tone of dignity that cut the discussion short. ** I in- 
teoded to say, that if Madam Thierry, your sister-in-law, 
ia imwilling to leave her lodging, it is my intention to 
maintain her rights to the full enjoyment of her lease. 
I shall make this a condition of the sale, and no pur- 
diaser will be allowed to elude it under any pretext.** 

^ Sndi a condition will delay the sale of the pavilion, 
•nd make it less adrantageous to you, madame,** said 
IL Antoine, who was longing to pronounce the sweet 
word eotmtetf, but who coSd not make up his mind to 
do so. 

^ That may be, Monsieur Thierry,** replied Julie, in 
A tone of indificrence which the rich man thought as- 
anmed, and Tery adroit. 

**To oomo to the point,** he said, after a moment's 
•Oence. ** What will be the price demanded by— ? ** 

Marod was going to reply ; but Julie, who certainly 
did not understand business, did not notice this, and 
asawered, ingenuously,— 

^ Oh I as to that, I really don't know. Tour reputation 
ia that of an honest and just man ; yon can fix the price 

Without paying any attention to the reproachful glance 
cf hear lawyer, she contumed, — 

**Toa cannot soppose, M. Thierry, that I came to 
iHmX your garden so as to drive a bargain with you 
abo«t iny little piece of property. I know that you would 
Eka to pmdiase it, and yon know, probably, that my 
an embarrassed ; bat this, sorely t need not mak» 


ofl unjust in our dealings with ettch other. Thadeckmiion 
that I have just made I shall abide by. I will not con- 
sent to have your sister-in-law annoyed upon anj account, 
— not for a million, — for I love and honor her. Consider 
that point settled, therefore. As to the other matter, 
reflect upon it, and let mo know your decision ; for yoa 
owe me a visit now, my good neighbor, and I shall not 
excuse you from paying it, whether we condnda our 
present negotiations or not.'' 

The countess retired, leaving the rich man daisied 
by her sweetness and grace. Unable to conceal his satia* 
fiiction from Marcel, ho tried to attribute it to soma 
other cause than the true one. 

**How now, lawyer ?** he cried, with an air of tri- 
umph. **You are caught, and look foolish enough! 
What have you to say now about the demands of thia 
lady? She is more sensible than you : she agrees to m/ 
valuation — " 

'^ Enjoy her pretty ways, and praise her politeness, to 
3rour heart's content," replied Marcel ; *' but, at the same 
time, try to understand, and be equal to, the part aha 
expects you to play/' 

** In fact you are right I *' said Antoine, who waa 
very acute in matters of business. *' When a great lad/ 
says to a man like mo, * Do as you choose,' she means, 
* Pay like a great lord 1 ' Very well ; by the life of me, 
I will pay dear I The countess shall see that I am not 
a miserly old pedant, like her father-in-law, the marquis I 
There is only one thing that surprises me in a woman that 
seems so sensible, and that is, the friendship that aha 
feels for my sister-in-law. I don't exactly know whether 
she meant to be agreeable to me, or to vex me, by talk* 
ing as she did." 

*' She meant to be agreeable to you." 

** I suppose so, since she wants to make use of ma« 
Still, my sister-in-law may have told her that I was a 


** My aunt has not spoken of you at all. Behave so 
that she will not have to complain about yon." 
**Let her oomplaiui if she chooses! What harm 


irould U do me? Whj should I care for the frieDdship 
and respect of this countess?'' 

M Whj, iudcod I ^ replied Marcel, taking his hat. " It 
is erideat enough hot^ indifiereot yon are I But no mat- 
ter ; do jour b^ to behave like a civilised being, and 
name thie day for your visit, so that I may announce it." 

Antoine appointed the day after the morrow, and they 
aeparated. On the very next day, without informing 
llareel, he took indirect but skilful measures for repur- 
chasing the house at Sevres. Had he resolved to restore 
his fii&er^s house to his nephew, to confer so great a 
blesshig npon his sister-in-law ? Certainly not I No man 
in the wcnM was more vindictive than M. Antoine, for 
he had never found a vent eitlier for his good or bad pos- 
•idiSt and repression had increased their violence. No 
influences in his narrow life had softened the asperities 
of his nature. But, at last, an impression was made 
upon him. Without affectation and without calculation, 
merely by unconsciously flattering his secret vanity, Julie 
d'Estrelle had conquered this savage nature. Ho con- 
sidered her condescension interested, he attributed it 
entirely to her need of money ; and yet the irresistible 
grace of her manner, and the tone of unaffected equality 
m which she addressed him, had flattered him as he 
had never before been flattered in his whole life. He 
resolved, therefore, that he would pretend to feel a sort 
of commiseration for Madam Tliierry. He was really 
afraid that she would injure him in Julie's estimation, 
and bv purchasing the house at Sevres he persuaded 
himself that he would force his enemy to treat him with 
respect, since she would naturally imagine that he in- 
tended to confer it npon Julien. 

Marcel, in the meanwhile, was doing his best to free 
Madam d'Estrelle gradually from her embarrassments. 
On the very evening of her visit to M. Antoine, he went 
to scold her for her rashness, and to insist that she should 
make her purchaser pay dearly for his suffar-plum. He 
Ifaond her but little inclined to enter into his schemes. 

^ Do what Toa please, dear M. Thierry/' she said, 
-tol do not ask my assistance. Ton toU me that your 


undo was somewhat vain, that I could easilj^ gain an 
influence over him^ thanks to my title, and might lead 
him to ameliorate his sistor-in-law^s misfortunes. I hast- 
ened to try my power, and you tell me that you hope 
something from my efforts. I have done what my heart 
dictated, hut do not talk to me of any further projects. 
Why are you so anxious to sell this pavilion? You told 
me yourself that my husband's creditors, since I have 
acquired a little more real estate, would be less exacting ; 
that the marquis would never allow the hotel d'Estrelle 
to be sold ; and that, for soma time at least, you would 
allow me to forget my troubles. Keep your word with 
me I Let your uncle make his own offer for the pavilion, 
since these negotiations will give me an excuse for plead- 
ing Madam Thierry's cause. When I said that I did 
not wish her to bo dispossessed of her lodging against her 
will, I spoke the simple truth, and I assure you tliat I 
shall regret exceedingly to have her leave the neighbor- 

Marcel, finding that he could not change her resolution, 
took his leave. He stopped at the pavilion, and told 
Madam Thierry, and Julien, who was also present, of the 
efforts that the generous countess had made in their be- 
half, and the kind sentiments with which she regarded 

Madam Thierry was so touched, that she could not 
restrain her tears. Julien had played his part so well, 
that her fears in regard to him had been dissipated, and, 
pouring forth, at last, the gratitude with which her heart 
was fuU, and which she had with difficulty repressed for 
several days, she broke out into an enthusiastic eulogy of 
Julie d'Estrelle. The poor mother, therefore, poured oil 
herself upon the flames. 

Still, however, from moment to moment, her suspicions 
returned. At every word that she uttered she glanced 
stealthily at Julien, to see how he received her remarks. 
His perfect self-possession reassured her, until a sudden 
outbreak revealed his true state of feeling. Madam 
Thierry was saying to Marcel that she did not wish to 
keep the countess from selling the paviUon, and would 

56 ANTON I A. 


pratoid that she felt no regret at giTing up her lodgingi 
iHien Julien interposed Tchementl / : 

^Move again ?** he cried. *« We cannot do it. We 
have spent too much, in proportion to our means, in get- 
tinil established here.** 

^ Tour uncle will provide for that,'' said Marcel ; ** if 
he i>roes jou to move, I will do my best to extort from 
hins — - 

^ Ify dear friend,'* Julien continued, with increased ani- 
mation, *' jour seal and goodness are incomparable ; but 
JOU know perfeetl/ well that my mother dislikes to have 
TOO make any adyances to undo Antoine. All that you 
haye done hithorto has been against her will, and she 
woidd haye forbidden you positively to make any appeal 
%m him, if it had not been out of consideration for me. 
It is not for us to judge whether she is right or wrong in 
detesting him as she does. For my part, I should have 
been willing to make all possible coocessions, even if I 
suffered in doing so, to a man with such a singular 
diaracter ; but I cannot allow my mother's pride to be 

^ No, no 1 1 have no pride," cried Madam Thierry ; ** I 
cast my pride from me, Julien I You are working too 
much ; yon will fall ill if wo refuse to negotiate with M. 
Antoine* Whatever Marcel's plans may be, they have 
my approval \ even if I must be humiliated, I shall be 
happy. Let us do our duty before everything else : let us 
pay our debts. We will tell the countess that it is a mat^ 
t«r of indifference to us whether we live here or else- 
where, and beg her to conclude the sale ; and let Marcel 
say to M. Thierry that we demand our rights, or that we 
implore his generosity. I am willing to make every sac- 
rifiee so that you recover your repose and health." 

^My health b excellent," replied Julien, warmly; 
•« and my repose will be very much disturbed by moving 
again. I like my studio ; I have a work on hand -~" 

^Bnt you are speaking selfishly, my child 1 You do 
BOt remember that this kdy is being tormented by her 
creditors, just as we arsi and even more than we are, for 


** And jou think M. Antoine will reliera her bj pur- 
chasing this horel? Marcel is not so foolish 1 " 

«« My opinion is," said Marcel, ** that M. Antoine will 
submit to all the conditions that the countess may choose 
to impose ; he will pay a high price for tbo parilion, and 
will not compel you to move. Let me alone, and I may, 
perhaps, lead him to do something still better.'' 

«« What?" said Madame Thierry. 

** That is my secret. You shall know about it later, 
if I do not fail." 

*' Ah, mon Dieu I " said Madam Thierry, interrupting 
the conversation, ** I have forgotten my snuff-box ; go 
and bring it to me, Julien." 

Julien went up stairs, and his mother took advantage 
of the moment's t^te-iUt^te that she had contrived to ob- 
tain with Marcel, to say quickly, — 

** Take care, my dear friend I We are threatened with 
a great danger : Julien is in love with the countess." 

'^What are you saying?" cried Marcel, in perfect 
amazement ; ** you are dreaming, my good aunt ; it is 
impossible." ^ 

^' Speak lower. It is possible, — it is a fact. Do 
what you can to get us out of this dangerous abode. 
Find some means, without allowing him to suspect what 
I have told you. Save him, — save me 1 Silence, — ha 

IS coming." 

Julien performed his errand with the utmost despatch. 
He was eager to take part again in the conversation ; but 
when he entered the room he noticed that his mother 
looked embarrassed, and that Marcel seemed surprised 
and troubled. He felt that his secret had been betrayed, 
and immediately assumed an air of cheerful indifference 
that no longer deceived Madam Thierry, but which com- 
pletely reassured the lawyer. The latter went away 
promising himself that he would sound his cousin when an 
opportunity occurred, but persuaded that Madun Thierry, 
agitated by the events of the last few days, was a little 
out of her mind. 

Marcel soon made a disoovery much mora f nrprising 


Ihaa thifi — lo surprbiDg, In fact, that we beg our readers 
to prepare themeelves for it a little in advance* 

On the appointed day, unde Antoine went to call upon 
Madam d*£etrelle« He found her simple and natural as 
•▼er, and quite as charming, — perhaps eren more charm- 
ing, — - than at their first interview. She greeted the hor- 
tieulturist just as she would have done a person of her 
own dass. Unaccustomed to societpri but endowed with 
penetration, he felt that his reception was perfect, and 
that he had never been treated so well hj a person of her 
nodal position. 

He saw, also, that she was really indifferent to the 
qoestion of monev. It was evident that her courtesy had 
aoi been assumed to obtain an^ ulterior object whatever, 
—even that of reoondling him to Madam Thierry,— 
aioce she ezprcMcd her desire to see them reconciled 
frankly and cordially. 

M. Thierry returned from this interview radiant with 
m delight that he no longer took any pains to conceal. 
When Marcel saw him, lie was obliged to confess that, in 
certain cases, straightforward hooesty is the best diplo- 
macy ; and that Madam d'Estrello had done more for her 
protegis and hcrsclfi by following her natural iostioct, 
than die would have done if she had been more artful. 

**Now then,'* said M. Antoiue, ** we must settle this 
matter of the pavilion. I consider it worth forty thou- 
•and francs, and that is what I intend to pay for it. I 
•hall want to enter into possession immediately, and it is 
my duty, therefore, to meet any claims tliat Madam 
Thierry may urge. I don't want to have any discussion 
with that woman. Tdl her that I release her from the 
•ix thousand francs for which I am security ; here is my 
recdpt. Furthermore, if she requires a small amount 
over and above this, to defray the expenses of moving, 
•be shall have it. Go, and don't let her break my he^ 
nay longer with her troubles. In the first place, how- 
ever, take my ofier,— which I think is very generous,— 
to the countess, and tell her of mv promise to indemniQr 

r nrotigis, according to her wish.^ 

lUiod was amasedi but delighted. He carried this 



good nows, in the firat ploco, to Mndam Thierry, who 
thnokod her •tors, and was rondf to blcea oroQ her 
brothoMD-Iaw, eho waa so grateful to him for forcing 
her to move aa quickly m poMible, and at all coBts. 

Mudom d'EstrcUo was not so well pleased ; slio had 
had another interview with the amiable widow, she 
enjoyed lier tocietj and regretted lo lose it, and tlioo tier 
delicacy was offendod by M. Antoioo's muniflcont ofibr, 
which seemed to her the ostentatious folly of a ploboinn. 
She ftit that she would be liumilialcd by accepting it. 

"He will think," she said, "that I havo been mo- 
naiuning to induce him to pay this extravagant price, 
and that would annoy mo excccdiagly. No indeed I I 
shall only aocopt half that he offers ; Z prefer to dcclioo 
his generosity, and retain Lis respect and my influence, 
whicii I can oxort in favor of the poor Tliiorrys. Toll 
him the prico of the pavilion is twenty thousand franca, 
and that I ask, furlheimoro, the conliauatlon of hia sister- 
in-law's lease." 

"But my aunt is anxious to move," replied Marcel; 
"you must remember that the inducomoot he offers is 
a matter of great importance." 

" Then say nolUiog about her affairs in my name ; 
but remember that my dignity is intrusted to you, and 
do not allow it to be compromised." 

Tliis reply, traDsmittod to M. Antoino, led to an ex* 
plosiou by which the lawyer was dumbfounded. 

" So," criod the rich man, " she refuses to accept a favor 
from me ; for, knowing her cmbarossmcnts, I was going 
to do her a favor. I was going to treat her liko a friend, 
since site treated me like one. Ah I you see, Marcet, 
she is scornful, she dospisoa me, she told mo a lie when 
she eaid that she thought highly of me I Very well, 
since this is the case, I will be Tevenged 1 Yes, cruelly 
revenged; she shall have her deserts I By heavens, I 
will make her beg my help." 

The faco of the extravagant old man waa still rather 
handsome, and at this momeut it looked aamiatakaUy 
wicked. AUreel gased upon him in aileaoo. 


•^WIiAl is this new mTSterf?'' he said to himselfi 
•erotinisiiig his ttxiclo*s piereing black ejes, flashing with 
spite and indignation* ** Can wonnded yanihr cnlminato 
in delirium? Is mjr nnde losing his senses? Has the 
abstnustedi solitarj, monotonous life that ho has led so 
long, been too much for him? Will the rage that he 
eonstantl/ expresses against all the feelings that warm 
and illnmine Uie heart, load, in the long run, to insanitj? " 

Antoine, without noticing Marcel's scrutinj, continued 
Tehementl J, — 

^ I nndorstand what you ars all about I Tou want 
Hadam Thierry to get the benefit of mj generosity. 
Now, fiir my part, I I^to not the least idea of making 
m fool of myself for the sake of Mademoiselle de MeuiL 
For a long time I have ceased to feel either hatred or 
firiendship for that person. Let her go to tlie devil, — I 
oerer want to hear her spoken of again. I will pay forty 
thousand (rancs for the pavilion, or I will not purchase it. 
That is my final decision.^ 

The affair remained in this state for several days. 
Madam d'Estrelle laughed good-humoredly at what she 
considered the old plebeian's fit of insanily, while the lat- 
ter, unknown to Marcel, acted as if his madness had 
readied a climax. 

Purchasing secretly the claims of all the creditors who 
were threatening the widow of the Count d'Estrelle, he 
put himself into a position that would enable him,— 
according to her conduct to him, — to destroy, or restore 
her to prosperity. Under a fictitious name he purchased, 
also, the house at Sevres, with all its rich and precious 
furniture, and put it under the charge of a housekeeper. 
All this was accomplished in a short time, and with great 
expenditure. Finally, one day, having found out from 
Marcel about the intmiate friends of Madam d'Estrelle, 
he went to call upon the Baroness d'Ancourt. The 
baroness received him in great state, but deigned, never- 
theless, to listen to him attentively, when she learned that 
he had come to enable her to save Madam d'Estrelle from 
certain ruin* 

Their eoBversatioo was long and nqrsterious. The 


servants ot tho hotel d*Anooart were reiy much posded 
at this conferenco between their hanghtj mistress and a 
sort of presomiog peasant, and still more so at the 
nature of the interview. Now the resouudinff voice of 
the baroness was heard breaking suddenly forth| and 
then tho harsh voice of her rustic visitor ; the/ were 
quarrelling, in short, and their dispute was interrupted 
with bursts of merriment or mockery ; for the baroness 
laughed, at moments, so as to shake the glasses* 

An honr after, the baroness hastened to call upon 
Madam d'Estrelle* 

** My dear," she said, in an agitated voice, ** I bring 
you five millions, or misery ; —choose." 

** Ah 1 an old husband, is it not so ? '' said Julie ; ^* yoa 
keep to your idea.'' 

** A very old husband ; but five millions I ** 

*' And a great name, undoubtedly ?** 

** No name at all! — a thorough plebeian ; but five mil* 
lions, Julio I " 

*' An honest man, at least? ** 

'^ He is considered so ; have you decided ?** 

*' Yes, I refuse him! Would not you do the same? 
Would you respect me if I should do otherwise ?** 

*' I told him you would say so. I ordered him out 
of the house. I made fun of him. He replied, obstinatelyi 
* Five millions, madam, five millions I ' " 

''And he convinced you, since you have come to 

^ *' Convinced or not, I was surprised, dazxled ; I said, 
like, the queen, * You urge me so strongly.' " 

^' Then you advise me to say yes ? " 

*' Do not say ye^^ say perhaps^ and reflect ; I will re- 
fleet also, for, at this moment, my head is not dear. 
These millions have intoxicated me. What would you 
have? The man is old, — in a little while you will bo 
free: people will stop crying out against the m6salli« 
ance I besides, every one knows that you, yourself, are 
not noble. You can open drawing-rooms that will dassla 
all Paris, and all Paris will rush to your fites ; for, when 
all is said, Fiuris has but one idea: to seek amusement, 


and go wliere it b to bo fooDd. Yoa can giro Imlbi oon* 
eertt, prirato theatricals ; can All ^ur rooms with artists, 
beaatifitl siogors, flno taikcrs« bnlliaiit people, ia short, 
able to entertain and amuse the stupid aristocrats. Ah I 
if I had five millions,— if I had only two,— I should 
know what to do with them I Come, do not think mo 
a fool, and do not be a coward. Accept mlgarit/ and 

** And the old age of the husband?"* 

^ A reason the more I ** 

Julie was indi^^nant and Amelie excited; they quar- 
leOed. Madam d'Ancourt did not tell her the name of 
her saitor, and Julie did not think to inquire. Fearing 
thai her impetiipos friend might compromise her bj 
allowing her protigi to hope, she conunissioned Marcel 
to find oat who he was, and tell him plainly of her re- 
IhsaL Marcel wont to Madam d'Ancourt to learn the 
name of the millionaire. 

*^Ah, she has reconsidered her decision?'' cried the 

** No, madam, quite the contrary." 

** Very well, you shall not know his name. I promised 
oo my honor not to reveal it, in case he was rejected." 

Marcel went to the hotel Melcy. He suspected the 
truth, but had said nothing to the countess, for he 
leared, with good reason, that she would reproach him 
for having introduced her to an insane old man. Besides, 
Marcel valued his uncle's fortune only at two millions, — 
this was all that he claimed to be worth ; and still felt 
doubtful, therefore, as to whether he really was the por- 
•on in question. He was in a measure misled by the 
five millions that had been dinned into Julie's ears as 
tiM amount of her suitor's fortune. 

^ So, ande," he said, abruptly, as soon as he entered, 
^ you are worth fii^ millions? " 

«* Why not thirty?" said the old man, shrugging his 
■bould er s. ** Have yon gone crasy ? " 

It was in vain that Miuroel teased him with questions ; 
kio vaelo remained impenetrable. A great event had 
jfM/L oecurred in his establishment, that had rsalhr dk» 


Tortod his mind from his dromns of moiriiigOi so thai il 
was more oosj for him to conceal the truth. Tho mjt* 
tcrious lily that ho had so oiVon contomplotcdi watohodi 
watered, and tended, — tho flowor that was to boar hit 
namo, — durin<|f tlio last few days of neglect and abandon* 
ment had suddenly put forth a vigorous shoot, alread/ 
covered with well-swollen buds* One of these buds waa 
already partly open, and within the calyx could bo seea 
silken petab of incomparable beauty, — white, lustrooa, 
and spotted with a brilliant rose* The horticulturist waa 
beside himself with joy* Animated, almost consoled for 
his matrunonial mishaps, he walked up and down hia 
greenhouse in a great state of agitation, or paused to 
watch the opening of his flower, while ho criodi again 
and again, — 

<* This shall be the one I This shall be the one I I 
am settled* This shall be the Anionia Thierrii; and all 
the amateurs of Europe, if they choose, may burst with 

«< Upon my word,** said Marcel to himself, '^ I am 
more m doubt than ever. Is it .with the AnUmia or 
with the countess that my uncle is in tove?** 



n^HE vanity of the horticulturist had resumed its 
^ ^ sway over Antoine's mind. Seeing this, and reflect- 
ing that be might turn his uncle's enthusiasm to account 
for the benefit of his prot6g6s. Marcel bestowed tho 
greatest praise upon tho Antonieu 

*' You intend, I suppose, to send it to the Jardin dei 
jRoi," he said. « The botanisU there ought to feel a 
great esteem for you*'' 

** They will count upon this one in vain,** replied M. 
Antoine. «' The^ may look at it until they are Ured, de- 
scribe it in their beaatiful language, give a sdentiflo 
Moount of it, as they Ify; but the spoomon ia nniqua» 



mod I ihall not pari from it until I have a number of 

** Bat if it dies without propagating ? ** 

** Hj name will live in the cataloguea, eren then.*' 

^That is not enough I If I were you, I would have 
ii painted, to provide against accidento/' 

**How painted? Do people paint flowers nowadays? 
Oh, I understand 1 you mean that I ought to have its 
poitrait taken? I hare thought about that with my 
other rare plants ; but I had quarrelled with my brother, 
and the other painters whom I employed were fools; 
tlieir daubs never satisfied me. I paid them a high price 
Ibr their work« and afterwards cut up the canvas, or tore 

** Did Tou never think of Julien ? ^ 

** Bah 1 Julien, — an apprentice 1 ^ 

** Have you ever seen any of his work ? ** 

^^ No, faith, nothing/' 

*^ Would you like me to bring you—?" 

** No, nothing, I tell yon. We have quarrelled." 

^ Not at all. He has called upon you regularly every 
year, on the first of January, and you have always been 
pleased with him." 

**That is true. He has been well brought up, he 
is quite sensible, and is good-looking. But, since I 
refused to advance the money to purchase the house at 
Wvrcs— " 

** Julien has never blamed you, or uttered a discon- 
tented word on the subject. I can assure of you that, 
vpon my honor.** 

^That may be true, and yet he may not have the 
aecessary talent — ** 

** Hold 1 a small specimen will do as well as a large 
one. Take your magnifying-glass, and look at this.** 

llaroel drew from his pocket a preUy little shell snufi*- 
box, with a bouquet pamted upon it in miniature, by 
Jolieo* Ahhough this was not his style, he had copied 
one of his pictures on this microscopic scale, so as to 
make this pceeent to Uareel ; and the little painting was 
m witaUe chef d*csavie« ^ 



Uncle Antoine was too ignorant of art to appreetato its 
real merit ; bat he understood the anatomj of eveiy part 
of a plant as well as the most thorough botanist, and 
if iiis magnifyin^^-glass did not enablo him to count the 
stamens of every flower, and the nerves of aveiy leaf, 
it proved to him, at least, that the artist, in sacrificing 
details to produce liis general efioct, had not sinned against 
nature ; that he liad not been led astray by any error, 
fancy, or heresy, contradicting the inviolable laws of 

After examining it for a long time, he asked, inge- 
nuously, whether Julien could paint as large as lifo; 
and, when Marcel replied in the alllrmativey decided that 
he would lot him take the portrait of the Aniania 
Thterriu He added, however, that he wocdd require 
him to work under his own oyes^ so that he might watch 
over him, and see that he was exact in the most minute 

** I know what these painters are I " he said ; *^ they 
want to interpret, — tliey want to do better than nature. 
They must have their atmosphere^ lights effect I Oh, I 
remember all tiicir stupid words! If Julien will be 
obedient, both of us together, perhaps, may succeed in 
producing something really beautiful. Qo and tell him 
what I want, and let him hold himself in readiness to 
pass an hour here day after to-morrow; it will be in 
full bloom by that time." 

Marcel went to consult Julien, and returned to tell 
Antoine that the artist would require two days, at least, 
for studying his model, and tliat he could not allow him 
to see his sketches until they were completed, when ho 
would be willing to submit them to him and inake such 
alteration as he desired, if he did not find them satis&o* 

^* He is very proud,'' said undo Antoine, impatiently ; 
*| look at that, — he is akeady making difficulties just 
like his father* Does he suppose I am asking him to 
paint the flower as a favor? I intend to pay him, and 
will pay as high a price as any one, no matter who. 
IVay what is a day of this genUeman's kbor worth?** 


^ Ha does not ask 700 to pay him. If 70a are pleased 
with what he does, he will ask yoor patronage*'* 

*^ It if eaqr to know what that means ; he will ask 

** Nothing at alL Ton shall settle the matter yonrself. 
Every one knows that 70a are generous when 70a do not 
disl^ people, and you will not dislike Julien when you 
know hun hetter.** 

'^Yery well; let him come inunedlately, — let him 

** No, he is Terr busy to-day ; he will give you several 
boors, to begin with, to-morrow/' 

The next day, in fact, Julien began to study the plant, 
and made several sketches, presenting it, under different 
aspects. M. Antoine, faithful to their agreement, did not 
see these sketches until the artist submitted them to him. 
He was more pleased than he cared to acknowledge. 
This conscientious manner of studying its structure and 
attitude surprised and delighted him. Julien talked very 
little ; he looked constantly at his model, and ho looked at 
it with real artistic enthusiasm, as if ho loved it passion- 
attty. The horticulturist began immediately to feel a sort 
of respect for him, and, as Madam Thierry had never 
told her son of her brother-in-law's foolish conduct, ns 
nothing in the face or manner of the young man indicated 
that he regarded his uncle with the least aversion, An- 
toine, who felt a real need of forming some human ties, -— 
m necessity that, had increased in proportion with his 
vanity,— -conceived for him (if we may say so) a sort 
of blmd and unconscious friendship. 

On the second day Julien began to paint ; his uncle 
could DO longer follow the progress that ho was mak- 
ing, and beoune uneasy. It was much worse when 
Jvdiea dedarod that he must finish the painting in his 
stadioi where the light was arranffed to siuit him, and 
where he had a number of little objects, all of which he 
ooold not remember to bring with him, and which he 
wanted to use. It was quite a distance (W>m the pavilion 
%m the hotel Melqri and, on the next day, they would have 
ao time to kMoia coming and going ; he would have to 


seiso tho expression of the plant on the wing, when it wae 
in full bloom* 

But tho model might bo injured by being moved ; the 
flower might wither prematurely^ the stalk might be weak- 
ened, its freshness might be tarnished I Tlie artist was 
firm, and uncle Antoine resolved that he would carry his 
precious Anionia to the studio himself, even at the risk 
of meeting Madam Thierry, and being forced to bow to 

Julien, in compelling his uncle to make this hard sacri- 
fice, had not yielded to the petty caprice of a fanciful 
artist. He had followed the advice of Marcel, who waa 
anxious to bring about a reconciliation between the op* . 
posing members of the family ; and who, as he could not 
persuade Madam Thierry to miake any advances, thoaght 
tho best plan would be to surprise her by a chance inter- 
view with her enemy. 

Wo have represented Madam Thierry as perfect,—^ 
and she really was about as perfect as a human being 
can be; — still, however, she had one little fault* Al^ 
though free from coquetry, from vanity, and from the 
weakness of thinking herself young, she had never really 
said to herself, ** I am old." What woman of her time 
was more sensible and clear-sighted? Iler youth had 
bloomed perennially in madrigals, gallant speeches, and 
delicate attentions. She had been so pretty, and was so 
well-preserved ! Her husband, although he had ruined 
her by his imprudence, had been in love with her up to 
his last day ; and it really seemed as if this old couple 
had been destined to bring Philemon and Baucis to lifo 
again. As she had never ceased to hear that she was 
still charming, -~ relatively to her age this was perfectly 
true, — good Madam Thierry had never ceased to feel 
like and consider herself a woman, and, afler a laspo 
of forty years, she had not forgotten how deeply her 
pride and dignity had been wounded by the pretensions 
of the ship-owner. This rude man, who had had the 
audacity to say to her, «« Look at mo. I am rich ; you 
can love me instead of my brother," had caused her the 
only real mortification to which she had been ezpoeed 


in comoqneiioe of her elopement, which the world, at the 
time, had considered an unpardonable impmdonce. In 
after years her beauty, agreeable manners, and noblo 
character, had caused her to be sought by her husband's 
admirers. She had been able to lift her head, to triumph 
over prejudices, and had occupied an exceptional and 
•nriable position in public opinion. She had been un- 
usually happy, therefore ; but never had she forgotten 
this one insult, nor could she think of it witliout bitter- 
asss. It seemed to her that she had been contami- 
nated ODoe in her life, by the offers and hopes of M. 

Uaroel could not penetrate these subtle, feminine senti- 
ments. He imagined that time must have taught Madam 
Thierry to smile at this ridiculous adventure, and that 
•he had been perfectly sincere in declaring her readiness 
to pardon the past, so as to obtain the favor of their rich 
relative for Jnlien. 

Julien was not a man to covet his uncle Antoino's 
wealth. He had never said to himself that, if he would 
consent to flatter him, he might look forward to bccomiDg 
his principal heir. For a long time he had refused to 
ask him the slightest favor ; but he longed to recover for 
hb mother the house where she had been so happy, aod 
this desire had conquered his pride. He had resolved 
to devote his life, if necessary, to paying his debts, and 
m k>nger blushed at Marcel's efforts to persuade Antoine 
to advance the necessary funds. 

Nevertheless, when he saw his undo nearing the 
house, Julien reproached himself for having deceived 
his mother. He feared that the surprise would be too 
much for her, and, at the last moment, tried to pre- 
pare her for what she had to expect. Madam Thierry 
did not lose courage ; but, as soon as she had bowed 
to M. Antoine, she made some excuse for going to her 
nwm, and there she remained. It seemed to her impos- 
aibla to endure the presence of this disagreeaUe person- 
age. Antoine, who had not seen her for forty years, did 
not rscognise her at first, and was not sumeiently self- 
to apdiogiae fivr his finrgetfiilness ThAC« icaa 


a gate opening firom his garden into tlie rue de Babytone, 
quite near the paviliony and he bad taken this path to 
the studio. Unwilling to lot any one touch his rariegated 
I1I7, he had brought it himself. lie placed it himself 
upon the table of the little studio, he took off the great 
horn of white paper protecting it, and, when the artist 
began to work, took up a newspaper which Madam 
d'EstreUe sent to Madam Thierry every morning, and 
fell asleep over it in a comer of the studio. 

Julien was expecting Marcel, who had promised to 
tiT and bring about the proposed reconciliation ; but 
lEUrceli detained by business, did not arrive. Madam 
Thienry did not appear. Julien felt that he could not 
break the ice without the help of his cousin : he did not 
say a word, therefore; he workedi did his best, and 
thought of Julie. 

Uncle Antoine was only asleep with half an eye. In 
the house of the woman he hated, and so near the hotel 
d'Estrelloi the abode of his new fancy, he felt restless, 
disturbed, agitated ; he was more troubled than he would 
have cared to confess. He got up, walked to and fVo, 
with his creaking boots ; sat down again, and finally, 
forgetting his lily for a moment, began to talk to Julien. 

*^ How about your work,'' he said ; ** have you a great 
deal to do? ** 

'* A great deal,'' replied Julien. 

" Do people pay you well ? " 

'* Quite well ; I have no cause to complain.** 

*' How much do you earn a day? " 

*' A dozen francs or so," said Julien, smiling. 

** That is very liule ; but your father made still less 
at your age, and I suppose you will increase your prico 
fit>m year to year." 

'* I hope and intend to do so." 

'* You are prudent and systematic, I am told.** 

** Yes, uncle ; Fam obliged to be so." 

** Do you go much into society ? " 

'* I have no time to go." 

** You know, however, persons of good famOr? ** 

** My father's firiends have not forgotten me.^ 



^ Too toinetfaiies retorn their vbiU?** 

^ y«rjr Midom, and only when Docessarj.** 

^ How about the BaroneM d'Ancourti— do roa know 

** Herelj bj name, — nothiog more.** 

«« She is a frieDd of Madam d'EstreUe?** 

^ I have no idea.** 

^ But 70a mast know Madam d'Estrelle?** 

••No, unde.** 

•• Have joa never seen her ? ** 

•• Nerer.- 

Jnlien ottered this lie coorageoosly. It seemed to him 
that every one was trying to find out his secret, and he 
kad resolved to hide it with the most savage resolution. 

•• That is cnrious,^ said undo Antoine, who, perhaps, 
really did feel some suspicion upon this point, if only to 
be true to his habit of suspecting every one; **your 
mother spends hours, whole days, they say, in her gar- 
den, and even in her drawing-room, and you •« '' 

•• I am not my mother/* 

•• Yoo mean that you are not noble.** 

•• I mean that I am not of an age to seek the acquaint- 
ance of a lady who is living secluded, and who on]y 
receives visits from elderly persons.'* 

** Yoo regret very much, no doubt, that you are too 

** On the contrary, I like very much to be young, I can 
assore you,** said Julien, laughing at his uncle's whim- 
■ieal reflections. 

Antoine, defeated, began to walk up and down the 
room again, with short, jerking steps ; again he paused, 
and said to Julien, — 

•• How much longer will yoo have to work? ** 

•• Two or three boors.** 

•' Can I k>ok at the pictore?** 

••If youchooee.** 

•• Ah ah 1** he cried, •• that is not so bad ; that begins 
to k>ok like something ; but yoo are painting all the baek- 
mond, — where will yoo pot the name of the flower? 
I want it in large gilt letters.** 

ANTON I A, 71 

*' Then it must not bo put anywhere ; it would spoil tho 

^* You don't say so I I must bavo my namo, though 1 " 

** Put it in largo, black Icttors, upon a medallion in 
relief, above or below the gilt frame." 

** That is a good idea, upon my word ! Make a chef- 
d'oeuvre, and I will invite you to the ceremony of tho 

*^ Bah, a ceremony 1 " 

** Yes ; the botanists of the Jardin du Boi are goin^^ to 
breakfast with me to-morrow morning. I have invited 
them, and they have accepted. I am going to have a 
sort of fete ; and, as it tires me to sit here with my arms 
crossed, doing nothing, I will return to my house and see 
how things are going on. Take care of my lily ; don*t 
let yourself be disturbed ; work without stopping ; I will 
return in an hour." 

Julien was working now with enthusiasm and rapidity ; 
every stroke of his pencil seemed to transfer the life of 
the wonderful plant to the canvas. Uncle Antoine was 
struck by his aspect; he smiled, and, becoming a little 
humanized, tapped the young man upon the shoolderi 
«aying, — 

^^ Courage, my lad, courage 1 Satisfy me, and you 
will have no cause to regret it." 

He went out ; but, instead of returning to his garden, 
went mechanically to the hotel d'Estrelle. Solitude, 
wealth, ennui and vanity, had weakened and half-mad- 
dened the old man's mind, and a world of confused ideas, 
— cheerful, gloomy, and audacious, — were whirling 
wildly through his brain. 

" I was wrong," he said, *' to confide my suit to that 
foolish baroness. She performed her part badly, and 
did not even mention my name ! She said that I was an old 
plebeian, and that was all ; the little countess never im- 
agined that the person referred to was a well-preserved 
man whom she herself had praised for his good health 
and good looks, — a man whom she knows to be generous 
and great, and whose talents as an agricultural amateur 
and producer of rare plants are not to be despised. I 


^oaa/L end the aifidr one waj or the other : I will offer 
Hjtelf, aad find oat whether I am to love or hate hor.** 

He entered the hotel boldly, and asked to speak to 
the eonntOM on business. She hesitated for a moment 
whether to admit him. Knowing that he was whim- 
sical, and thinkini( him a nnonomaniaCi she would have 
p iefarr ed to liave Haroel present at the interview. But 
she knew how sensitive her old neighbor was, and, 
. iSMuring that she might injure Madam Thierry's interests 
by olfeoding him, aUowed him to enter. Madam d*£9- 
troUe was akme; but she would have considered it 
absurdly prudish to feel alarmed about a tSte-&^tete 
with an M, man, well known for the austerity of his 

The rich man had called upon her prepared for battle : 
he imagined that he would have to fight to obtain an in- 
terview. When he found, on the contary, that he was 
admitted without opposition, after two minutes delay, 
when he saw that his beautiful neighbor received him 
kindly and affably, although with a little reserve, his 
courage abandoned him. Like all people who live in 
the world of their own thoughts, unchecked and uncon- 
trolled, no one could be bolder in forming plans. It was 
his audacity that hod enriched him, and he confided in it. 

But, as he had always acted from behind a curtain as 
it were, he was as incapable of taking a step upon the 
itage of social life, or of conversing with a woman, as 
he would have been of commanding a ship, or conduct- 
ing negotiations with the Algonquins. He grew pale, 
stammered, put his hat on iJter taking it off, and, in 
short, was so agitated, that Madam d*£strelle felt sur- 
prised and disUessed, and was obliged to come to his 
assistance br referring at once to the subject which she 
supposed to be the object of his visit. 

** So, my neighbor,'' she said kindly, ** we are at odds 
about this un&rtunate pavilion, which I had hoped 
would be the means of bringing us to a good under- 
•taoding and making us friends. Do yon Imow that 
I leel ukM scolding you, and that I consider you very 
" I?" 


** Oh, it is well known that I am a fool,** imliod An- 
toine, morosely ; ** I hear it ao oAcn that I shall end bj 
believing it." 

** I only ask to be undeceivecl,^ replied Jnlio ; ** can joa 
give me any good reason for accepting the sort of presenl 
Uiat you offer me ? I defy yon to do so 1 " 

** Yon defy me? Then you want mo to speak. The 
reason is clear enough, — I feel an interest in you I ^ 

'^You are very good,** said Julie, with a smile, in 
which there was a touch of irony, " but -« ** 

** It is just so, countess ; you are a person that one can- 
not help thinking about, and so I thought about yoa, — 
what the devil would you have? I said to myself, *It is 
a pity that a person so, — a lady who,— a person of 
good family, in a word, should bo in the hands of the 
bailiffs. I am only a plebeian, but I am not such a miser 
as the fine gentlemen and the fine ladies of her family.' 
That b why I said what I did say ; but you mbundersteod 
it all, which proves that you despise me/' 

** You are mistaken in that I ** cried the countess ; ** de* 
spise you for wanting to do a good action ? No I a hnn* 
dred times no I It would be impossible." 

" Then why refuse my offer? " 

** Listen to me, Monsieur Thierry ; will you give me 
your word of honor as an honest man that yon are per- 
fectlv convinced of the sincerity, — the personal disinter* 
estedoess, — of my conduct towards you?*' 

** Yes, madam, I give you my word of honor. The 
devil 1 do you suppose, otherwise, that I should ever have 
come to sec you again ? " 

** Very well, I accept your offer,'' said Julie, holding 
out her band ; ** but upon one conditioui — that you will 
give me back your friendship." 

Old Antoine was completely beside himself when he felt 
this little soft hand in his hard, dry palm. He had a sort 
of vertigo ; and, as he did not know what to do with this 
woman's hand,— to kiss it he would have thought an im- 
propriety, and he dared not press it, — he let it drop, and 
stammered out his thanks in a very confused manner, but 
with heartfelt emotion. 


^ Sinee TOO treat me at if I were conferring a favor 
'^^gffmjtmf said Madam d*£8trelle, **I warn you that 
ahall become exacting. I realljr need onljr twenty thou- 
francs for the present ; let me offer the other twenty 
(H>m yog to Madam Thierry,** 
^ No, DO I it cannot be I " said Antoine, losing his tem- 

Er ; ** she would refuse. That woman detests me I I 
vo just paid her a visit. She turned her back upon me, 

went and hid in her garret.'' 
*^ Yoa most have wroi^ed her in some way, my neigh« 

^ Never I K she tries to make yon think otherwise, — 
lier say what she chooses, — I am an honest man.'' 

^ She has never said otherwise." 

^ Has she never spoken to you about me ? Come now, 

>iel me the truth, — upon vour honor." 

** Upon my honor, never 1 

** Then, —stop a moment ! — tell her to respect me as 
ought, and don't talk about giving her money that 
Iwlongs to you ; for, — the devil tiuLo mo, — if you make 
modi of me, and don't blush to acknowledge my friend- 
•hip, I will give her, — yes, I will give her a pretty 
prtoent! I will buy her house at Sevres. There 1 
What will you say to that? " 

•'I wiU sav, M. Thieny," cried Madam d'£strelle, 
deeply tooched, ** that you are the best of men 1 " 

^The best, in truth?" cried the rich man, so flattered 
that he was like a person intoxicated ; — '* the best, do 

*«Tes, — the best rich man that I know 1" 

^ That is something worth while I Will you breakfast 
at my house to-morrow with some savants, —^ some rtry 
fiuDoos and learned men,— and witness a baptism? 
Will TOO be godmother, and aooepi me as godfather?" 

•^Tesl atwhathoor?" 

^ At noon." 

**! will go,— hot in the company of some lady, since 
yoohave persoos at yoor boose whom I do not know. I 
win go with—" 

** My eister in4aw, I see what is ooming I " 


" Very well, — do you forbid it? •• 

** Forbid it? Do you kDow that yon talk at if I wero 
your master?" he said, with a sort of myslerioas fiUuity. 

** As if you wore my father? " replied Julie, frankly. 

An undiaste old man woald have been wodndod by 
this speecli, but Antoine was chaste in his folly ; we can 
afilrm, positively, that he was not in love with Julie ; it 
was the countess only who was the object of his passion. 
Whether she was his adopted daughter, or his wife, mat* 
tered little to him. Provided that ho could show her off 
to his solemn company on the next day,— to the savants, 
— Marcel, Julien, to Madam Thierry above all, and to all 
his gardeners ; — - provided that he could see her leaning 
upon his arm or seated at his table, talking to him with 
filial friendship, without any fear of what the world 
might say, — provided that all this might be, it seemed to 
him that he w ould bo perfectly happy. 

** And if I am not contented even then,** he thought, — 
talking to himself about himself, with a sort of ineffable 
tenderness, — '^ I shall have time enough to tame her, and 
lead her to think about marriage afterwards ; and when 
she has sacrificed her title to be my wife, we will see 
then whether the name of Thierry the elder will not be 
worthy to stand by that of my brotheri Thierry the 
painter 1 '' 

** Since you are so gracious,'' he said to Julie, " I will 
be gracious also. I will do whatever you wish. I com- 
mission you, for example, to give my invitation to Madam 
Andr6 Thierry, and if she prevents you from keeping 
your appointment to-morrow, tell her that I will never 
pardon her in aU my life.'' 

*|I will take charge of her, my neighbor. Farewell, 
until to-morrow ; have no fear 1 " 

** Would it annoy you to say my friend t** replied 
Antoine, whose tongue was loosened by hb secret hap- 

^* It would not annoy me at all," replied Julie, laugh- 
ing ; <* I will call you so to-morrow, if you keep your 

" Y«a wiU <mU im M— pnblielj? " 


— aod with all mj heart.^ 

The old man went away reeliop^ liko a dranken man. 
la the ttreet ho talked to himself id a loud voice ; hie 
ofM flaehodi and ho made emphatic gestures. The passers- 
bj took him for an escaped lunatic. 

Ho followed the wall of the hotel d'Estrelle mechanio- 
alhri for his first idea was to return to the studio, in 
order to see whether Julien was at work, and whether 
his lilj was safe, Snddenlpr he remembered that the 
Baroness tf Ancoort might ruin all his hopes, bjr revealiDg 
to Uadam d'Estrelle the name of the suitor whose cause 
she had espoused. Evidently Julie suspected nothing;. 
she bad no reason to imagine that her old neighbor was 
acting from an interested motive. Ho might gradually 
lead her to woovgi him as her husbandi by impressing her 
doly with his wealth and magnificence; but he had 
wanted to go too fast, and had come very near spoiling 
everything. Since the baroness was not opposed to him, 
be must go to her house before doing anything else, tell 
her how matters stood, and urge her to be silent. He 
called a carriage that was passing, and ordered the coach- 
man to drive to the hotel d'Ancourt. 

Jnlio was deeply moved ; like every generous person 
who has sought to inspire a good deed, and has carried 
her point, she lost all sense of her own personality in her 
sincere joy at what she had accomplished. Impatient to 
announce the important news to Madam Andri, and 
make her promise to be her chaperon at the breakfast at 
the hotel Melcy, she threw a light mantle of violet silk 
over her shoulders, and,— so utterly had she forgotten 
herself, — ran towards the pavilion. She thought no 
more of Jnlien than if he had never existed ; or, at all 
events, did not remember that it was her duty to avoid 
him. She had never clearly understood how serious a 
matter this was ; and, in her eagerness to see his mother, 
wo^ not probably have hesitioed, even if she had re* 
memberedit. Bendes, she was alone. There was noone 
in the drawingHPOom, no one in the garden. Would the 
foees be seandaliied at her impra&nce ? Would the 


nightiDgales err over the walls that Madam d'Estrelle 
had entered a Louse where she might, periiaps, meet a 
young man whom she had never seen ? 

Julien, at this moment, had no time to he watching for 
Julio's approach. lie was wholly absorbed in his work. 
The lily could not promise to remain fresh and unchanged, 
until he had given the last touch to his picture. Madam 
Thierry was in her room with Marcel ; he had arrived 
finally, and, after exchanging a few words with Julien, 
had gone to converse with his aunt. He wanted to lec- 
ture her, to make her confess, and to persuade her that 
the cause of her dislike to M. Antoine ought to remain 
concealed, as it had hitherto been, from the young artist. 

Madam d*£strelle struck lightly at the door of the 
pavilion. A great wagon, loaded with broken stones, 
was passing at this moment in the street. The noise of 
the wheels, the cries of the driver, and the cracking of 
the whip, completely drowned her feeble knock. Eager 
to SCO Madam Thierry before some surly message from 
the whimsical Antoine had informed her of his plans, and 
perhaps made her unwilling to agree to them. Madam 
. d'Estrello opened the outer door boldly ; she opened a 
second door, and found herself in Julien's studio, alone 
and face to face with the young artist ; he had placed his 
model in the light streaming from the window above this 
door, and Julie entered in a blaze of glory ; it seemed as 
if she had come to him in a my of sunshine. 

Julien was so little prepared for this vision, that he 
came very near falling, as if thunderstruck. The blood 
rushed to his heart, and his face became whiter than M. 
Antoine's lily. He could neither speak nor bow; ha 
stood motionless, with his pallet in his hand, his ey%^ 
fixed, — absolutely petrified. 

Did the beautiful countess experience any correspond- 
ing emotion ? At the sight of this young man, whose 
beauty was so faultless, — that type of bwiuty in which 
the nobility of the lines is only exceeded by the intelli- 
genoe of the expression, — what took place in her heart 
and soul? Her first feeling was one of instinctive ra» 
ipect; for Julien was not onlmown to her. She bad 


bMund an aboat his liODeflt and self-eacriflcing X\h^ hia 
patient indostij, at the same time so ardent and rep^lar, 
his filial love, his noble sentiments ; she knew how well 
be deserred the friendship and esteem of his devoted 
firiends. She had sometimes felt a curiositjr to see him ; 
and, either because slie considered it childish, or from a 
▼ague presentiment that their meeting would be danger- 
ous to her peace, had forbidden herself to yield to this 

Whj investigate further? It is enough that her heart 
fcdlj prepared for the reception of the sentiment that 
to ffovem her life. She experienced a terrible shock. 
The agitation by which Julien was paralysed overcame 
Imt alM, and she remained for a moment as silent and 
motionlefls as he. 

If any one had seen this beautiful couple, just as they 
bad come from the hand of God, in eome region inacces- 
sible to social prejudices, meeting under the simple and 
l^orious conditions reigning in an unfallcn world, they 
would have said, without hesitation, tliat they had been 
destined for each other ; that God bad made tliis superb 
man for this charming woman, this tender and true 
woman for this ardent and proud man. In Julie, all 
was grace, tenderness, and sweetness ; Julien was full 
of passion and magnanimity. When they beheld each 
other at last, in the radiance of the May sunshine, humid 
with the perfumes of a new life, each of them, as with 
an irresistible cry of love, pronounced, in their eouls, 
the names thai destiny (as if they had been intended to 
bave only one name) had given them, — i/ui^e, Julien I 

Upon either side a great effort was necessary, before 
they could remember &e social barriers by which they 
were separated* 

** Ah me 1 *^ thought Julie ; ** this is the young painter. 
X thought he was a demi-god.** 

**Alasl^ said Julien to himself, **this is the great 
bi47« I thought she was half myself.'' 

The countess was the first to bow, and ask whether he 
was DOi IL Julien Thierry. He bowed deeply, saying, 
with aa eipression of hypocritical doubt,— 


«« Madam the CoonteM cTEstreDe? * 

Mockerj! As if these questions were n s ce e w y to 
enable tlion to understand eadi otlier. 

** Has your mother gone oat?** said the eoontess* 

** No, madam. I will go and call her.** 

And Jolien did not stir ; his feet seemed nailed to the 

^ She is with mj cousin, Marcel Thierry," he added. 
** Shall I ask him also to come down and recdve theo 

** Do not disturb either of them I If you will show 
me the way, I will go to your mother^s room. But 
wait," she sdded, seeing that Jnlien was incapable of 
moving; *Mt will be letter, perhaps, to prepare your 
mother. I did not see her yesterday ; she may not be 

*' She is a little unwell, it is true." 

*^Thcn, — yes, you must prepare her for a surprise,— 
an agreeable surprise, God be praised I — but one by 
which she might be agitated. Make her understand, 
gently, that I bring great and good news in regard to the 
house at Sevres." 

Julien could not resist his desire to thank Madam 
d'Estrelle. Uis presence of mind had somewhat re* 
turned. He blessed her for what she had done for his 
mother, in terms as heartfelt as they were delicately 
expressed* Julie was deeply moved, but not surprised. 
With his reputation, and his irresistible face, Julien 
could not have spoken otherwise. After this the ioo 
was broken, and all ceremony forgotten. Distrust would 
have seemed a mutual insult. They talked together for 
a moment with extraordinary ease and familiarity. 

** It affords me happiness to have rendered your mother 
a service," said Julie, ** you know this well. She must 
have told you how well I love her I " 
^ *| You are right to love her ; you will never repent 
giving her your friendship. Her heart is worthy of 

'*! wish I could feel that I was worthr of her confi- 
dence. Oh| she has told me about you f I know that 


joa worship her, and Ood will bless joa for jour deroted, 

^ He has blessed me alreadji smoe 70a tell me thai I 
deserve His blessing.'' 

*« I ten 70a so most heartflj. Whj should I hesitate 
to saj so? There are so few who are whoUj wwihj of 

^There are those whose esteem is so great a favor, 
ethal to obtain it 70a would mcotipi the hate and scorn of 
flJl the rest of the world.** 

**0h I 70a onl7 sa7 that out of politeness ; 70a do not 
know me safficientl7— ** 

**Toa are mistaken, madam,— I know Tonr goodness, 
IhenoUenessofToar soul, the kindness of Tonr heart. I 
could not fafl to understand 70U unless I were both deaf 
and blind. And 70U, who scatter blessings upon all who 
surround 70U, cannot feel surprised to have inspired one ! 

whom 70U do not know with humble admiration and 

It seemed to Julie that the ver7 ^^ *^® breathed was 
00 fire. She tried, mechanically, to recover herself, but 
b»l not the courage to withdraw irom thu dangeroos con- 

««Will 70U also be glad,** she said, **to regain the 
house where 70U were brought up ? " 

^ I shall be glad for my poor mother's sake, most cer* 
tainlv ; but not upon my own account.'' 

•« Do 70U like Paris so well 7 '* 

*« No, not at all ; — but — " 

Julien*s kindling e7es, darkened b7 a cloud of emotion, 
expressed cloarl7 enough what he thought. Julie under- 
stM>d only too well. She tried to sj^ak of something 
else ; she looked at the artist's sketches, she praised his 
talent, — that talent which had been revealed to her at the 
same time with his love ; -^she tried to tell him that she 
understood his art, but, in fact, it was his passion that she 
understood, and every word which they uttered betrayed 
their real preoccupauon. The agitation of the one was 
communicated to the other; both became so confused 
thai thej scarcely knew what they were sa7ing| and 


finally Madam dTstrelle tnroed to IL AnUrfWi lOj, ao 
as to havo aomctbiog to talk about. 

*' What a beautiful flowor I ^ abo said ; ^ aad how 
iragrant it is I ** 

** Do yoti like it? " cried Jnlien. And, with the impet- 
uosity of a lover intoxicated with joy, ho broke the stalk 
of the Anionia Thicrrii^ and offered the superb stem to 
Julio 1 

The countess had no idea of the interest attaching to 
this plant ; she had not seen Marcel for several days ; andy 
as Madam Tliierry never mentioned her brotha>iii>]AW 
when she could help it, she had not heard it spoken of. 
Invited to a baptism on the following day at the betel 
Melcy, she had concluded, naturally, that the object of 
M. Antoine's solicitude was the child of some retired 
gardener. She was far enough from imagining thai 
Julicn, in breaking this flower, severed all ties with bis 
uncle, and cast his whole future, — a future, perhaps, of 
wealth and prosperity, — at the feet of his idol. 

She uttered a cry of terror and surprise, however, at 
the artist's rash act. 

*^ Ah, man Dieu I " she said ; ** what have you done? 
Your model?** 

'^ I have floishod,*' replied Julien, eagerly. 

'^ No, you have uot fiaishcd ; I can see that pkinly I *' 

'*I will finish it without a model; I know it by 
heart 1 " 

For an instant, love of his art resumed its dominion 
over him ; and, as he cast upon the lily a last glance of 
intellectual possession, Julie replaced it upon its stem, 
and said gayly and gracefully, with careless ease and self- 
forgctfulncss, -— 

'' I will hold it, — finish I it will not fade immediately. 
Come, make haste 1 Your picture is so beautiful 1 I 
shall never forgive myself for having interrupted you* 
Work,— IwUhitr 

'' You wish it?*' said Julien, distractedly, 
i There was a second piece of canvas behind his picture ; 
> this he seised, and, working with ardor, with /ury^ he 
1 aketched aad painted the deUeate and lovely hand of 
?. 6 




MidttB d'Eitnlle. Tbe lil/ nudo no progrou. Julie, 
•MMMigfa alw know it not, wu holding it in Tain, wliilo 
WMtiog nntil it ^ovld bow it* proud liood novor to be 
lifted ngftin. 

Ohf wkIo Antoine, where wen jrou wbilo snch b crime, 
witbrnit reowne end without terror, wna boing conunit- 
Md* onder tbe 070 of ft sleeping or nuliciona Providence ? 

A elicit Bonnd upon the ■tairciue recalled Julio to 
hmilfj it wu Unreel, who wu coming to tell Jalicn 
thnt hie mother hnd consented to aeo H. Thicny 00 his re- 
tan. Undamd'EstreUoiUhnmodofbeingBurpriMdalone 
wilk Um nitist, nod on terms of such strange fumilioritjr, 
ptaaied tbe stem of tho lil; hurriedly in liio light, moist 
«uib of tlu TMO. The ^nfonM did not seem aware of 
what hnd occuirod, nnd romninod fresh and Iwautiful. 
Unreel enlered, and look no notice of tho catastrophe. 

The preacDce of the coantess surprised him suOlciently ; 
tbe latler was exceedingly disconcerted at meeting him, 
and Julien perceived tliis. lie immediately conquered 
bis emotion, with a manly effort, and informed Marcel 
tlkot tho counless had just colcrod, nnd wlshcil to spcnk to 
kii mother. At the same time he offered Julie a chair, 
H if she hod not yet hcon scaled ; and, bowing respect' 
flilly, wont to inform 3Iadam Thierry of hcrpresonco, 

Uadam d'Estrelle was innnitoly grateful to tho artist 
for bis preseoeo of mind. Tliis slight indication showed 
her that sho was not dealing with a child, eapablo of 
compro m ising her by bis awluirdneu and simplicity, but 
with a man, — watchful, and armed at oil points, — ready 
lo defend her from every danger, to preserve her, if 
neeesserr, from ber own rashness. She loved him with 
bw wboM heart ; and she felt that bn was tho master of 
bar destiny, siitee there was already a secret between thom, 
lo be concealed from Ibe scmtinising gaao of their mi^ 
taal friends. 

While aba was Ririog Mareel a r^nd reaomi of ber 
eoawsatioBwithli. Antoina,JnUeo entered his motber'a 
room. His face was so radiant, Ibat she cried, — 

•*J(MiKs«/lM>wbeastiAa7oa sMto^ay. What baa 


** Madam d'Eatrollo is bolow,^ said Jalicn ; ** she brings 
you joy and coosolation. Sho bos portoadedlL Anloino 
to purchoM your honso. Quick I put on your e^p, and 
como and thank your good angoL^ 

Surpriflod and delighted as Madam Thierry woOf she 
was at the same time deeply grieved. Her mother's eye 
could no longer be deceivcni : she saw plainly the repressed 
passiou concealed by Julien*s apparent firanknessi mod 
was so moved that she burst into tears, 

*^How now I how now! what is the matter?^ eriod 
Julion. ** My poor mother, you who have always been so 
courageous in misfortunoy can you be so overcome by 
joy? No matter I Let your cap hang, since yon cannot 
fasten it, and como as you are. Madam d'Estrelle will 
like to see you sJied such tears as these ; they will not 
trouble her, —como I " 

** Julicn I Julicn I I am not weeping for joy alone ; 
my heart is oppressed by sorrow, and, above all, by 

** You are afraid that you will have to thank M. An* 
toinel Nonsense, mother! That is too childi^,— • 
como I " 

Madam Thierry was ready to faint. Julien was al- 
most angry with her, for her emotion was making him 
lose the precious moments, — seconds tliat he might have 
passed by Julio's side. Murcel, who was deliglited with 
the good news that the countess hod brought, became im- 
patient, in his turn, at his aunt's delay, and came up 
stairs to hasten her. Julio remained alone in the studio, 
therefore, for several moments. 

These moments, — swifUy as they passed, — counted 
in after years like an age in her life, for they brought her 
a divine revelation ; the light flashed into her soul in a 
single daxzling flame. ** Your happiness is found," said 
an inward voice, endowed with sovereign authority ; *^ it 
is here.^ A devoted love, —a simple, retired, domestic 
life ; — it is this, and this alone, that can miJce you happy. 
Julien's mother experienced this happiness during the 
whole period of her youth. Intercourse with the world 
and wealth did not odd to her felicity. They ilimSnS^td 


H nUlier, bj withdrawing her from her domestic life. 
Forget the worldi — it is worth joar while I Have done 
lorerer with a past which has misled yoa, and brooght 
joa into conflict with yoursolf. Reconcile yourself to your 
origin,— derived from the middle classes far more than 
firom Um nobilitr ; with yonr conscienccy which reproaches 
joa finr having been carried away by a desire for worldly 
glofji and for having yielded to the throats of ambitious 
parents; seek the grace of God, who abandons the 
woridly-minded ; be true, be strong, — like this young 
man who worships you, and who has just revealed to you, 
in a sin^ glsAce, the grandest, the noblest passion that 
70a will ever inspire." 
^ While listening to this mysterious voice of her own 
soul, Julie gased around her, and was surprised to fool 
lier agitation succeeded by a sense of olivine repose. 
Tliis was due, in part, to a very simple, natural phe- 
nomenon. Julie was short-sighted ; and in this room, so 

* much smaller than the apartments to which she was ac- 
customed, she could see, in spite of her defective vision, 
all the details of every object that surrounded her. The 
|Mivilion Louis XIII. was a very humble abode; but, 
m spite of its simplicity, it was fitted up with artistic 
taste and elegance. The building, in itself, was well- 
proportioned. In the deep and large embrasure of the 
window, as in a little sanctuary, the widow had placed 
her arm-chair, her spinning-wheel, her candle-stand, and 
her footstool, — giving this part of the studio the aspect 
of a Flemish interior ; the rest of the room had been 
tliorooghly repaired, although with the strictest economy. 
The wainscoting was painted my, and was perfectly 
plain, except for a few panels, whose lines were straight 
throughout, but harmoniously proportioned; the ceiling. 

• was white, and, although not very high, it was not so low 
as to be oppressive ; above each door was an oval gar- 
land carved in wood, of quiet leafage, and painted, like 
the headings of the panels, of a darker gray than the rest 
of the woodwork. Two or three valuable flower and 
finiit«ieeei, by AndrA Thierry, several sketches, and 
two Uttk stodiee, by Julian, hong upon the walls. On 


a bracket, q>po6ito a mirror, stood a largo vase of Booea 
porcelain, full of natural flowers and long Tines, grace- 
full/ arranged, and falling to tho floor. A little car^ 
before the sofa, two or three easels, shells, boxes of in* 
sects, statuettes and engravings upon a largo table, phun 
oak furniture, and a harp, — the onl^ costlj object to 
be seen, — its worn, gilt strings glittering in a dark coi^ 
ner, — completed the simple interior, Ccrtainlj there was 
nothing elegant or luxurious in all tliis, but an air of 
exquisite neatness and taste gave a charm to the quiet 
room, and the soft,drcam7 light made you feel inclined to 
reverie. The lilacs growing in thick mosses so near tlie 
house, and the curtains before the lower part of tho win* 
dows, made the studio a little dark. But there was somo* 
thing in this greenish light that was strangely poetical, and 
a sentiment of holy meditation seemed floating in the at- 
mosphere, that penetrated Julie's very soul. What more 
would be necessary than such a retreat as this, —so 
modest, so humble, — to enable her to enjoy spiritual hap- 
piness, —the eternal ecstacy of a true moral life ? What 
did Julio care for sumptuous furniture, etagdres loaded 
with a thousand baubles that she never looked at, —blue 
ceilings spangled with stars of gold over her head. Gobe- 
lins carpets under her feet, Sevres vases to hold her bou- 
quets, liveried lackeys to announce her friends, boxes of 
Chinese fans, and caskets full of diamonds? They hod 
amused her only for a day ; can playthings distract a weary 
heart ? Julien's simple and laborious life, — his touching 
devotion to his mother, — his secret, humble love, — aa 
he himself had called it, — was there not something in 
all this purer and greater than.she could ever hope to find 
in the life and devotion of a frivolous or blase $eigneur t 

A sparrow that Julien had tamed, and which lived in 
freedom upon the neighboring trees, flew into Ibe studio, 
and lighted familiarly upon her shoulder. She was 
amazed ; in this simple incident she saw for a moment a 
prodigy, — an ancient augury, — au omen of happiness 
or victory I She was really intoxicated. 

Madam Thierry entered the room at last, in the utmost 
agitation. She had insisted upon being allowed to qpeak 


to tht eonotoM alooo. She throw horsolf at her feet, and, 
obliged bjr her to Hae, spoke as follows : — 

^ YoQ MPO good as an angel, my beautiAil neighbor. 
Maj God bless joa a thousand times I But I must show 
70a mj grief as well as mr J07 ; my son, my dear Julioo, 
will be lost unless he qniekljr renounces the hope of over 
teeing joa again. He loves you, madam, — loves you 
distnustedly. When he told me that he had only seen you 
from a distanee, he was deceiving me : he sees you ^ywy 
day ; he gates at you by stealth, — he intoxicates himself, 
kiDs hiinself by gasing upon you. He no longer eats, 
BO longer sloeps ; be is sad, his cyoA are hollow, he is 
eoDSomed by fever. He has never loved, — but I know 
hem be will love,— how he loves already. His is a 
natoro AiU of enthusiasm, faith, devotion. Discourage 
Uffif madam, if it is possible. Do not look at him,— 
do not speak 'to him, — never see him again. Have 
pi^ upon him and upon me. Never come to our house 
again ; absence, perhaps, will cure him. If it docs not 
core him, I do not know what I shall do to keep from 
dying of grief.*' 

Madam Thierry's voice was stifled with sobs ; and these 
•obs telling so eloquently of the sincerity of her grief, 
fell upon Julie's heart like a blow. Her dream of happi- 
ness,- must it not vanish before this maternal despair? 
The delicious reverie by which she had been lulled to for- 
getfulness, was it not a fantastic delusion, at wliich she 
herself would smile as soon as she crossed the threshold 
of her hotel? Had she reallv resolved to forsake the 
world forever, and throw herself into the arms of a man 
whom die had just seen for the first time ? It was absurd 
to think of such a thing ; and Madam Thierry was a 
thousand times right in regarding it as impossible. Julie 
made an effort to enter into her state of feeling, and to 
throw off her momentary infatuation ; but the charm of 
that moment of madness must have been potent indeed, 
tx the idea of submitting again to reason seemed to 
lend her heart; and, instead of lepl^ng to the poor 
with digni^ and good sense, — mstoad of trying to 

AJfrOJf/A. 87 

reoMitrA her, — aho threw htnaU ioto her AriBs, •od, lilw 
hor. burst into tout. 

Hodom Tbion7 wu to aurpritod bf tboM t«u«, tbU 
■hofoltni if alio would go franiia, 61m dorod notwk 
tho couDloM to explain lier amotion, and, moreorcr, aba 
bad no timo to do »o ; Julien and Marcol eoterad. 

"Coma, m7 dear mother," Julien said, '^jrouarociTiu 
alto^tber too macb. You ba\-e forgotteB lo thouE 
Madam d'Estrelle, I am anrot and to ■rraoge Toor plooa. 
Marcel baa jnst told me that yoa moat exprHS TOUT grat- 
itude to M. Tbiorrf in poraoo, and that joa nuiat go 1^ 
morrow to bis Iiousc, »o oa — " 

Julio bad turned her face to tho window, and was trying 
to conceal and dr^r her (oora without oltractiog obsorrap 
lioD ; JulioD, who hod been watcliiug her, saw at this 
moment what siie was about. He reprcsaod a cnr, and 
iavoluntarily took a slop lowords hor. Marcel, who 
pcrcoivod the alraago agitntioa of tho two women, and 
who could only aupposo that Madam Thiony was audbr- 
iog from a neirous attack, and hod said soBwthing to 
agitate the couutcaa, took up Julion'a intermptad scntanca) 
so OS to renew the conversation. 

" Yes, yea," ha said ; " we must go to-morrow, so oa to 
witnosa the bikptiam of—" 

Marcol waa like Julien ; ho remained with his oyes 
fixed and mouth open, unable to articulate another word ; 
for, happening to glauco, not upon Julie, but apon the 
phiDt that ha woa about to name, ho saw it reduced to 
a cluster of bulbs and a broken stem, damp with the 
sap ooaing slowly forth, and falling in great drops, like 

"Whereisit?" he cried, atupefiod, "Whathaveyoa 
done with it? Great God, Julien, what hare you dose 
with the AiUonia t " 

No one replied. Madam Thierry looked at Juliea; 
he gaicd steadily at Madam d'Eetrollo, while Madam 
d'Eunlle, who waa igooraat of the whole affair, did not 
know what to think ofthe lawyer's alrange alarm. 

"What are jon looking for?" she said, rising. And, 
at the rose, the ^ntoiiM, which, when A» had been 

38 ANTON I A. 

left nlooe in the studio, sho had taken from the vase 
and placed tenderly upon her lap, fell at her feet. 

Mti^^in Thierry understood at ouce the real state of 
the cafe. Maml was not 00 clear-sighted. 

**Ah, madam,'' he criedi **to any one else who*had 
caused this accident, I should say that she had ruined us I 
But what can I say to you? And, after all, why need we 
he afiraid of the consequences of your act? Uncle An- 
toioe will neTer Tisit his anger upon yon I You did not 
know what you were doing ; Julien did not tell you ! '' 

^'UDdouhtedly,'' said Madam Thierry, ** Julien ex- 
plained nothing to our benefactress ; but she must see for 
liertelf that ereiy one in this house is not reasonable, und 
that, while wishing to serve us, she runs the risk of 
aggraTating our sorrows-—" 

** It Is yon, mother, who are not reasonable," cried 
JttUen, Tehemently. ** Really, I do not understand you 
to-day I Ton are too much excited ; your words betray 
Toor thoughts. It seems to me, that instead of tlianking 
lladam d*EstreUe, you hare boon imparting to her absurd 
fimdes— " 

JoUen scolded his mother, who began to cry again. 
ICareel, seeing Madam d'Estrelle's astonishment, took her 
apart, and in three words gave her the key to the mys- 
tery, and at the same time the palpable proof, as it were* 
of the young artist's ardent passion. Deeply moved at 
irst, she collected her strength, and recovered her prcs- 
enoe of mind, to avert the blow that threatened the 

^ Leave it all to me," she said to Madam Thierry, with 
aseomed cheerfulness ; ** I will take everything upon my* 
self; it was I who committed the fault, and it is my duty, 
therefore, to repair it." 

^ The &nlt 1 what fault?" cried Julien. 

^ Tes, yes ; I took a fancy to the flower and beggeil 
jott lor it. No! that Is not it; how dull I am! It 
•was I who picked It, yest — a foolish fancy in a mo- 
Bent of abstraction I — Von were not here. I am near- 
js((hled, awkwafd I I will axplam It all to your uncle. 


i/bfi Die* I what do 700 nppoM bo wiU do? H« inQ 
Dot beat ma. He ii not to wickod 1 " 

"Alas I" fail! Madam Thierr7, " iiDfortaiuUilj be is 
T017 wi<^od wboD he is oSendod ; and if b* know that 
Julien had committed this Bacrileje — " 

" It really was JnUeD, then 7 " »aid Uaree), MtonnJad 
in his turn. " It is incomprehensible I " 

*> Certninlf it vol I, and I alone," replied JnlicD { 
" then is nothing strange in that — " 

" Ton an mistaken I " said Marcel, in a low Tolee, ' 
pomiTiDg, at lost, tbo real canse of the misfoitnoe. " Toa 
are too andacions, toj lad ; and joa must bava bacoaM 
both hcartlesa and frirolous, to bare sacrifioad tbaa your 
moibor'i future, and your own, without meotioninf that 
Madam d'EetrclIe is too good, and ought ratber to bare 
put you in your right place." 

" Silence, Marcel, silence I " said JuUon. " Ton do , 
not koow what you ore talking about; yon do not na> 
dorstand— " 

" I understand only too well," said Marcel j " and, on 
my honor, I am like your mother now, — I say that 
you have lost your senses — " 

This diologuo was carried on in the recess of the 
window, whore Marcel hod ted Julico, whilo the two 
ladies stood together by the despoiled vase, talking ia low 
voices, and without well knowing what they were say- 
ing. Madam Thierry tried mcchanicnlly to plant. anew 
the stem of the decapitated lily, and Madam d'Estrelle 
■ought to consolo her in vain, for bur greatest tronblo 
was not the loss of the Anlonia, but rather the storm of 
' passion that had led to its loss. Suddenly Julian, who was 
in the habit of watching the curtain, and glancing at the 
crerico through which ho saw into the garden, slortod 
violently. Seising Marcel by the arm, and motioning 
bim to be silent, he said in a whisper, — 

"Be quielf fi>r thalere of Ciodl Soma one is Us* 


SOME OM WM lialaniDg, ia fust, aod it wu too Ute to ba 
nlmL UdcIo Aaloioo had bewd eTBiything. How 
ba csma to b« ipriiig ftbout in Hadun d'EatroUe'a gar- 
dan, «« ahall toon Icani. Marcel followed Jalicn'a eye, 
aaw tha cravica in the cartain, and, leasing forward in 
bia turn, aaw CroqaimitaiBe on tbe watch. Ho left the 
window, and warned Mr**"*" d'Eitrelle. For a moment, 
tbaj talked in pantomime. The/ had not yet decided 
what to do, wban Antoinai no longer bearing their Toiceai 
atmdi at the garden door. 

Thii arriral waa lomething like that of the eUtue 
in Jiaa Gtoranni, Julieo woa going promptly to open 
the door, when Madam d'Eatrelle remembered that her 
' pnaenca might-give rite to tome ridiculons scene, and 
that her abeenea would, withont any fail, bo made the 
oecaaion of a atormy outbreak. Sbe determined npon 
her conraein on instant: detained Julien, by authori- 
tatively laying her hand npon his arm, and. signing to 
him and the othera not to more, went into (be boll, 
opened the door herself, and stood face to face with M. 
Antoine. Although be had prepared bia part, ho was a 
little snrpriaod, — ha who imagiiiod that ho waa going to 
aorprise OTeiy one. 

"What — yon, M. AnloSnal" said Julie, pretending to 
be perfectly astonished. "What are yoa doing here? 
Too came back to the hotel, then f Who told yon where 
X was? and what pat it into your head to cross my gar> 

Withont waiting for his answer, she took the horticul* 
tnriM's arm and led him quite a distance from tha 

CriUoo, to the edge of a Uttla lake In the centre of tha 
rn fronting the hotel. 

**Bttt — I waa going to the pavilion," stammered K. 
**I •oppoaa so, sinca I found yon at the door." 
** I waa going— witbvaiy good iotantieoa; bnt — " 



** Who doabts it ? Certainly not I, mj firiend." 

** Ah I Now you talk as I want to have yoa I So — 
you would like to talk to me alonOy -~ I see, — it is just 
the same with me ; I want to tell you about an idea that 
I have— " 

** Sit down upon this bench, my neighbori I will listen 
to you ; but, first of all, you must hear mOf fi>r I bare a 
confession to make.^ 

** All right — I know what it is ; you have picked my 

^* Ah, man Dieu I How did you know that? " 

** I heard a few words, and I guessed the rest. Why 
did you break the poor flower? Could you not haro 
asked me for it? Could you not have waited until to- 
morrow ? I intended to give it to you/' 

^'But — supposing I did not do it on purpose?^ 

** You did not do it on purpose ? " 

Julio felt that she was blushing, for Antoine was look- 
ing at her attentively, and the expression of irony in his 
litUo black eyes was at the same time bitter and tendor. 

**No indeed,'* she answered, hoping to save herself 
by a Jesuitical device ; '* the accident happened against mr 
will I " 

^* Good, good ! " replied Antoine, who was still gazing 
searchingly into her face ; ** say that, — I prefer that." 

*• You prefer that, — what ? " 

** Yes, mordie I Come, abandon the bad cause that 
you want to plead. Condemn, frankly, tlie folly and 
treachery of Master Julien, and leave me to punish him 
as he deserves." 

** But what makes you think that M. Julien? — " 

^'* Ah, do not try to lie," cried M. Antoine, starting up 
with a bound, his little body quivering with passion and 
indignation ; *^ it does not suit you to lie ; you do not 
know how I And, besides, it is useless ; I tell you that 
I hoard, and, as I am not a fool, I have come to the con- 
clusion Julien finds you to his liking ; and the rascal 

would like to tell prou so, if he dared I " 

** Monsieur Thierry, what are you saying?" 

^^What am I saying?— lam stating things aa tliey 



are. UjMleiiioiselle da MeaO was m prood as jba can 
be; mj brother Andri told her his fine stories, and 
•Dded by making himself understood. All men and all 
women are of the same clay I Come, acknowledge the 
tmth ; do yon like Jnlienor not, — yes or no?" 

^ Moosienr Thierry, if I did not know your good heart, 
the disagreeable tone of yonr conversation would disgust 
Bie I Please to speak differently, or I will leave you/' 

^ Oh, now you are angry I You remombcr vour pride, 
and are going to turn your back upon mo. Why? It is 
noi your affidr I Julian has committed a foUy, — let him 
pay the penalty.** 

^ No, Monsieur Thierry, it was my fault, — I am tlie 
anfortonate cause of the accident ; if I had not admired 
and praised the flower indiscreetly,— -he considered him- 
self obliged to offer it to me, — politeness — " 

** Bad reasons, bad reasons, my beautiful lady I The 
scoundrel knew perfectly well that I would have thrown 
the flower, the plant, the garden, and the gardener into 
the bargain, at your feet. If ho did not know it, ho 
ought to have guessed it ; and, anyhow, he had no right 
to play the generous with my property ; it was a rape, 
an abuse of confidence, and a theft. lie may eat his 
fingers for the rest of his life ; and his mother will loam 
what it coats to have brought up a son to play the courtier 
improperly with great ladies." 

** On, my neighbor," cried Madam d'Estrelle, in great 
distress, and quite out of patience, ** you are not going to 
withdraw your favor from them ; you are not going to 
make it seem as if I had lied, — I, who placed you upon a 
pedestal ; you are not going to break the bond of friend- 
ship thai we formed tonlay? For a flower more or less 
in your collection, you would not- cause so much unhap- 
piness? You are too rich to be troubled by a loas that 
can so easily be repaired." 

^ It is easy for you to talk I There are some, things 
that millions cannot replace ; which a man of taste ra- 
gards as aitogothar priceless." 

**Ah, Moa IKia/ Moai>itii/ Who oonld have sup- 
posed soeh a thing ?** 


** Jalieo know it.'* 

«' No, it is impossible I '' 

*« I tell you thftt ha knew it." 

** Thea ho is crasj : bat it is not his moChii^s fiudt ; 
sho was Dot thoro/' 

** It is his mother's fault. She encounges him to lov« 
you, sho fawns upon you, so as to lead yon to sacrifiea 
yourself, as sho did for her husband.** 

*^ No I I swear to you tlmt you are mistakeiii ICoih 
siour Thierry I She is desperate — " 

** About what? Ah I you acknowledge thai she has 
talked to you about it, and that you know the feelings of 
the young man.** 

Madam d'EstrcUe struggled in vain. All the pmdenoa 
of her sex, all tho pride of her rank, all her natural tact 
and knowledge of tho world were shipwrecked, as it wero^ 
upon tho brutal, straightforward logic of the old man. 
Sho was caught in a vise; and felt ashamed, awkward. 
uDmasked, without resources. What should she do? 
order him out of her presence, and hare done fbr- 
over with this rude vulgarian, and his odious questions ? 
But that would bo abandoning tho cause of the poor 
Thierrys, and giving thorn up to his vengeance ; she felt 
that she ought rather to restrain her indignation, defend 
herself as well as she could, and submit to being humili* 
ated by his most misplaced admonitions. 

'* It seems," she said, with melancholy resignation, 
** that I committed a great fault in going to the pavilion, 
and yet my intention was most inuoccnt. I had never 
seen M. Julien Thierry, I was overjoyed by your gen* 
erons promises, and wont to make the heart of his poor 
mother glad ; I am well punbhed for, having been so 
enthusiastic about you, M. Thierry, since you think you 
have a right to scold mo, and to demand an explanation 
of tho most innocent, if not tho wisest, stop that one 
woman ever took for tho benefit of another." 

** And who says that I blame you ? " replied M. Antoine, 
at the same time softened and irritated by her appeal ; *^ I 
condemn no one, except the real eulprits. Do you know 
what would have happened, if I had entered suddenl/i 



Uaster Juliea was breaking mj lily? I should > 

iroken iiim. Tas, as traly as I tell you so, I would 

kNM iU Here Is a caoe that would have split his 

r's bead for him.'' 

\ old maa's wicked and excited expression alarmed 

A d'EsCrelle; reaUr afraid of him, she looked 

1 iondoiitarilj, as if to seek protection in case she 

1 beeome the object of his rage. Just then there j 

tiemidoas moTcmeni in the thick foliage surround- 

M bendi; it was onlji perhaps, a bird hopping 

amid the branches, but she felt a vague sense of 

o, IL Aotoine,** she resumed, with courageous 

Bess, ** you will never make mo believe that jou I 

vricked man, or that you would behave cruoUj to 

ie« Ton must blame mo alone for this accident. 

me, — jou have a right to do 80. I will promise 

'hat I have already promised myself, that I will 

again enter the pavilion. What can I do more? 

this moment the foliage stirred a little more vio- 

aad Julien's tame sparrow, like a messenger 
om him to implore her pardon, came and lighted 
Hadam d*£strelle's shoulder. Moved by this tri- 
ncideat more than she cared to acknowledge, she 
iit firiendly little animal in the hollow of her hand, 

sort of tenderness. 

am I ^ said M. Antoine, whose piercing vj^ seemed 
less the power of divination. ^* That is a strange 
nion I Does it belong to you?'' 

ea," replied Julie, who feared that his vengeance [ 

t Julien woidd fall upon the poor bird, if he knew /^ 

was his. 

tame sparrow I It is an udy beast, and one that 

great deal of mischief. If it were not yours — 
lUea give it to you ? " ' 

lere again I Ton think of nothing but Julien I " ^ 
ICadam d*£streUe, losing patience, ** and I really 

andenlaiid the strange turn that our conversa* 
la takes. I am very aony that I went to the 

ANTOyiA. 9S 

paTilioa; I regret excoodinglr the accident that hu 
occurred. How can I repair it? WiU you not tall ma 
tbnt, instead of voandins me with all thcio luguat iaaia* 

" Do jaa wish mo to tell you?" 

" Yes I did I not promiM to go to a family foatiral at 
your liouM to-morraw7 " 

"The baptism of my poor Aniw^iat That ia done 
with. Tho chad is dead, or at Icust disfigund. I must 
invito my gacsta to a burial. And, t>csidoB, it no longar 
auitB me to invito Madnm Andrj, and to pretend to ba 
friendly with hor eon — at least, unloM — " 

Mnuam d'Estrollo iinaginod that the rich man had re- 
pented of his munidconcc, and wanted, perhaps, to reduce 
tho sum that ho had offered for iho pavilion. 

" Speak, speak I " elw cried eagerly ; " I will agree to 
anything that can make you amends and consolo you." 

There was no limit to M. Antoioe'a vanity. He had 
■een Madnm d'Ancourt on hour before, and she, out of 
spite against Julie, had inflamed his imagination, and 
encouraged him in his audacious hopes. Ho hod ro- 
turned, intending lo offer himself. Not finding Julie in 
Iho drawing-room, ho hod been so bold as to follow her 
into tho gordcQ. Tho incident of the broken lily hurried 
forward the inovitablo event. His folly had reached a 
climax, — ho declared himself. 

" Mfldum," ho said, " you drive me to Ibo point, with 
your pretty words and sweet manners ; if you are offended 
at what I say, it is your own fault. Consider a little 1 
You are not rich, and I know that you were not bom 
upon the steps of a throne. I do not eonsidoryou proud, 
either, sinco you go to the studio of an insignificant 
painter, and accept his homage, —at ray expense I A- 
ridiculouB story I bntno matter. Laugh at it, but let ua 
end by being reasonable. Julien lias good ancestors 
upon his mother's side, but he is my nephew, norerlholaas ; 
— ~he is a plebeian. Do you despise him for that?" 

" No, certainly 1 " 

"Hia fault, then, ia that he ia poor? Bnt snppoao 


h«iru ridi, Tflr^ ridi, — ooma, what woald jroa wr to 

** Yon want to giro him s fortooe, na that I nuij many 
Uk?" aaid Madam d*£atnlle, in « lort of atupor of 

*• Who Mid anything of tha kind ? " 

** Excoae ma, — I thonghi — " 

" Too thought that I waa making yon a ywy sillj 
propoaition. What does an artiit amount to 7 Supposo 
I aboold giro him a fortnne, would the money I havo 
canied elerate him in yoor eyes? Those who have 
caned oat their own deslioj, who have shown (hut tboy 
d eaw T O respect by the talent thoy hare diaplaynd in bnsi- 
■eaa, are tha ones who deserre consideration. Come, 
70a understand me perfectly well. I nm ofTorin^* you a 
good man, a large fortune, and a name that has mads 
■ome noise in the world ; a man who will fulfil all your 
wtshea during his life, and will leave you alt liia properly 
aAer his death ; a man who has neither mistresses, nor 
{Ocgitimato children, nor cares, nor responsibilities of 
•ay kind ; and, finally, a man who will be your gmnd- 
frther, and whom no one will accuse you of selecting out 
of caprice and gallantry. Yon will show your good sense 
•nd dclica^, on the contrary, by clioosing him, for you 
bars debts, — more debts than property ; and, if Marcel 
•alcalalea well, he cannot give you much encouragement. 
Beflect, ihareforo I If you say no, you will bo certain to 
meet with great misfortunes, while every one will honor 
jnm for freeing jooraelf from your embarrassments by a 
naaonaUe marriage. You seom to bo ttrj much sur- 
prised ; and yet your friend the baroness gave you to 
«a)lerstaad — bat she did itot (ell yon tho amount, pcr> 

** Fits millions, is it not?" said Jnlie, who had grown 
pale and banghty. " You are the person to whom she 
/afai'iuJ, and yon are speaking of yourself ? " 

"What if I am? Uoea the idea shock you ? Does It 

.,**No, Uonataor nueny," replied Jolie, with a an* 


preme elSbrt ; ** I fod veiy much- honorod by yoiir oflbr» 
but— •• 

'* But what? My age? Do yoa imagino that I want 
to play tho lover? No, God be praiaedl I norer had 
that weakness, and, at my age, I am not a fooh I want 
to bo your father by contract; I want to marry you so 
that I may have the right to make you my heiress. 
Come, wo have talked enough. You must say ves or no, 
for I am not a man to be kept in suspense, and I do not 
want to be humiliated. Do you understand ? ^ 

M. Antoine spoke with singular authority. Julie was 
afraid that a romsal would exasperate him. 

** You are too hasty," she replied ; ** my character is 
undecided and timid. You must give me time for re* 

*^Tlicn — you do not say no?" replied the old maiii 
evidently flattered at being allowed to hope. 

** I do not say anything," replied Madam d'EstrellCi 
who had risen, and was approaching the house eagerly. 
** I am agitated, as you sec, by an oficr that I did not 
expect. Give me several days for reflection, for consid* 
oration, — I am deeply moved, deeply touched by your 
friendship ; but I am alarmed, also, for I had sworn to 
remain free I Adieu, Monsieur Thierry, — leave me I I 
really need to be alone with my own heart ; do not try 
and force me into a decision by your goodness." 

Julie escaped into an inner room, and uncle Antoino 
left tho hotel. Devoured by a fever of hope that made 
him more insane than over, he forgot the pavilion, tho 
lily, the picture r he forgot everything; but when ho 
found himiself in the rue de Babylone, in front of the pavil* 
ion, he was seized by a furious desire to torment, pussloi 
and bewilder his relatives. He rang, and was adnutted by 
Marcel, who was waiting to learn the result of his con* 
ference with Julie. 

** So, here you are I " he said, abruptly. ^' Where is 
my plant? Has Master Julien finished my picture ? " 

** Come into the studio," said Msjrcel ; ^* the picture is 
finished, and your Uly is as fresh as if nothing had hap* 


^ Ohf of eonna I ** mattered Antoine, ironicaUj ; *< it 
bee docM it good to be broken.'* 

He came into tbe studio with his hat on ; his sister-in- 
law, with a sad coontenance, and in a very dejected at- 
titude, was seated upon her little cane-chair in the recess 
of the window; without soceing her, without glanc- 
ing aroundi he went straight up to his lily, examined the 
fracture, and gased eagerlr at the stalk, which continued 
to bhK>m in the damp earth. Then ho looked at the por- 
trait of the AnUmia^ and turning to Julion, said, — 

^ I like it rerj much ; but you sha'n't have my custom, 

He walked up and down the studio, passed before 
Madam Thierry, saw her at last, and put his hand to his 
luU, saying, in a surly tone, ** Your servant, madam ! " 

Betuming to Marcel, he laughed in his face, like a 
crazy man, without uttering a word ; and finally, furious 
because he could not find any way of revenging himself 
that would not deprive him of his fianc6e's good opinion, 
be rushed to the door. Marcel, who saw what he was 
saffering, drew him back. 

** Come, uncle," he said, *' we must know how we 
stand ! Has the Countess d'Estrcllo obtained our pardon, 
or most I sell my practice to pay damages ? " 

^ The Countess d'Estrellc,'' replied the old man, *' is 
a prudent person, who knows the difference between hair- 
bfmined fools and a sensible man. Yon will see tbe 
proof of it some day." 

Madam Thierry, who could not endure her brother- 
in-law's insolence, and who thought he intended to insult 
her, arose to go to her room. Antoine bowed slightly, 
and ooDtinned, — 

** I dkl not mean that for you, Madam Andr£, I have . 
Bothing at all to say to you 1 — " 

^ And I have nothing at all to say to yon," replied the 
Widow, in a tone of disdainful bitterness, which she was. 
not prodent enough to repress. 

Julian, incapable of humiliating himself by makinsr 
devoured his indignatioQ m silenoei and Marod 


followed (he cmborrassod and disordered mov ement s of 
the horticulturiBt with a piercing ejo. 

<' What is the matter, undo ? ** he said, when Madam 
Thierry hod left the room. ** You are hatching oat som^ 
thing, good or' bad 1 Be sensible, and tell the trath.'' 

^^ Oh, the truth, the truth 1 that is what you want I " 
replied M. Antoine ; '* the truth will be seen and known 
when the day and hour comes I Every one, periiaps, wiU 
not find it a laughing matter I " 

Julicn, who was still painting, lost patience; laying 
down his pallette and maul-stiek, and taking off the hand- 
kerchief rolled carelessly around his head (painters, at 
that time, wore this hcod-drcss in their studios instead 
of caps), he went straight up to his uncle, and, forcing 
him to interrupt his restless and noisy walk, demanded, 
seriously and firmly, an explanation of his vague threats. 

*' Uncle," ho said, '* you are acting as if you wished 
to drive mo to extremities, but I shall not forget the re- 
spect I owe you. I beg you, however, to remember that 
I am not a child, to bo frightened by a frown and loud 
talking. It would be better for all, if you would see and 
understand the real state of the case ; that is to say, 
the real grief that I feel at having displeased you. Do 
not ask mo how this misfortune occurred ; a moment's 
forgctfalncss, a fit of absence of mind, cannot be ex- 
plained ; since it has occurred, what is to bo my pun- 
ishment, or what do you wish me to do in expiation? I 
am ready to prove my repentance, or submit to the con- 
sequences of my fault. Decide, and stop threatening ; it 
will bo more worthy of both of us.'' 

M. Antoino stood perfectly still, and tried to look in- 
different ; but, in reality, he was very much mortifiedi 
for he could not deny that the accused occupied a much 
more dignified position, at this moment, than the judge. 
He felt afraid, also, that he had been making himself 
ridiculous ; and, at his wit's end, he formed a diabolical 
plan, and resolved to carry it out. 

** Everything depends upon Madam d'Estrelle,'* he 
said ; ** I will do all that I promised for your mother, and 
will pardon you as well, in spite of your villanous 



dad, if ahe denres and oomxDAnds it ; bat I will only do 
Ibis oo ecmditioQ that she keeps her word, and comes to- 
Borrow to mr house, with jroor familr.'' 

** Yerf well," said Marcel ; *' if it is all arranged, why 
did not jon remind her of the appointment just now ? ** 

^ I am not talking to 70a, lawyer," replied Antoine, 
** be so good as to take jonrsolf off; I want to talk to 
master Jolien alone." 

^ Talk to Toor heart's content," said Marcel ; ** I am 
^ad eiKNurh to go, for thej hare been expecting me at 
nnr boose ror more than an hour. I will return after a 
while, and find out what 70a have decided." 

When Jolieu was alone with his ande, the latter 
asBwned a solemn manneri that was eren more comical 
than his prenoos rage. 

^ Listen ! " he said ; ** I want you to do an errand for 
me. Yon must go to the hotel d'Estrelle." 

^ Excuse me, uncle, I cannot go there. I should not 
be admitted." 

^ I know perfectly well that yon would not be ad- 
mitted. But you can carry a letter there ; you can wait 
ibr the reply in the ante-chamber, and bring it back to 

^ Yeiy well," said Julien, who thought ho would stop 
at the porter's k>dge. •« Where is the letter? " 

** Give me writing materials." 

** Here they are," said Julien, opening the drawer of 

The horticulturist sat down, and wrote rapidly. Julien 
changed his working-dress for a coat which was lying 
npoo a chair, and tried to conceal his impatience by so 
doing. Soon his uncle called him. 

** Do you want a seal? " said Julien. 

**Noi yet. You must correct mr note. I do not 
pride myself upon being learned, and I ma^ have made 
mistakes in orthography. Bead it 1 read it aloud, and 
tbeo eorrect the pomts, the commas, — everything." 

Jolien, who sospected some trick, cast a rapid glance 
Of«r the few lines which his undo had written in a bold 
baad. A mist passed befiwe his eyes, and he came rery 



near cnuliinff the paper with indignation ; bnt he ima^ 
incd that thia whimsical and extravagant old man had 
written this letter ovXj so as to make him betraj his 
secret. He restrained himself, therefore, met the scmti* 
nizing gaze fastened ferociously upon him vrithout blench* 
iog, and read the contents of the note with a firm voice : 

** Madaiie and FniEXD, — 

*^ We wore so confused at our last interview, that wa 
parted without coming to an understanding about Our 
arrangements for to-morrow* I will not conceal from 
you that your presence at my little fete will give me new 
hope, and that I shall consider your absence as the sign 
of a breach between us, or an unfortunate delay of 
your decision. I have told you that I did not wisli to bo 
trifled with, and you have promised me to bo sincere. 
Night brings wisdom. I shall dcpeud upon to-morrow 
to confirm the hopes you have allowed me to enters 

'* Your friend and servant, who is impatient to call him- 
self your flanci, 

'* Aktoins Thxebbt." 

" Very well," replied the horticulturist, when Jnlien 
had finished reading it, '' are there any faults?" 

'^ Yes, uncle, a great many," said Juliou, quietly tak- 
ing his pen. 

*' Softly I Don't let the corrections be seen. Be 
careful I " 

'* It is all done. Seal it, and write the address." 

" Wliat do you think of it?" said his uncle, writing 

Madam d'EstrcUo's name upon the envelope. 

'< Nothing at all," replied Julien. <' I don't beliovo 

you will send it." 

" Will you believe so if you take the letter? •» 

" Yes." 

" What wiU you say then ? " 

*' Nothing. It is not my afiair.** 

** Dianire / it is as much your afiair as mine 1 ^ 

"How so, pray?" 


^ The r ecoT e iy and deed* of gift of jour house at 
Siirres dqwnd upon it*** 
^ Verjr weU, uncle. I thank joq, then, with ail mj 

^ Yon have an expresMon — ** 

^ I have no expression at all. Look at me 1 ** 

Antoine eonld not meel Jolien's bold and penetrating 

^Come I be qnick I ^ he said, ill-natnredlj ; ** cany mj 

^ III7 to do so,** replied Jalien. 

He took his hat. 

'^ Where shalll bring 70a the answer?** 

** I will wait for 70a in the street, at the door of the 
iMitd, and 70a can bring it to me there ; we will go ont 

The7 left the honce. Julien went straight to the por- 
ter's lodge, his uncle koopiug him in sight ; but, instead 
of giving the letter to the porter, as he had intended doing 
at first, he informed him that ho wished to speak to the 
▼alet-de-chambre, and crossed the court rapidly. When 
be reached the ante-chamber, he gave his message ; and, 
like a man who does not expect to be admitted, sat down 
00 a bench to wait ; ho said to the valet, however, -~ 

** Inform the countess that there is a repl7, and that the 
nephew of M. Antoine Thierry is here to carry it to 

After a moment's delay, the valet returned and 

^* The countess would like to ask you a few questions ; 
be SQ good as to come this way.** 

^e opened a side door, and led the way. Julien fol« 
kmed him into a dark hall ; the valet opened another 
door le^ng ipto ^ large apartment, brought a chair, and 

Jalien found himself in a beautiful diningsroom, oppo- 
site tbe principal door. In another moment this door 
opened, and Madam d'Estfpllp ^t#redf Sh^ kM>l^ pale 
and agitated. 

^I veceive 70a in this roomy** she said, **beeaasel 


have compaoj io the drawing-roonii and I Cftsooi refor 
to the subject that brings joa here, before oChiers. Did 
M. Antoioe giro jou this letter ?** 

** Yes, madam/' 

** You have not read it, of course?" 

'* I Imve, madam." 

** And you undertook the commissioii ? " 

(* Yes, madam." 

'•Why so?" 

'* To find out whether my uncle is a fool, who oa|;fat to 
be under lock and key, or whether he is atrodooslj 

*' In other words, —yon wore not sure, — you wished 
to find out, — whether I had given him the right to send 
me such a letter?" 

** I did not suppose such a thing possible, and I took it 
for granted that you would send me away without an an* 

" And since I receive you, — you conclude — " 

** Nothing, madam, excepting that it is unnecessary 
cruelty to keep mo in suspense." 

**\Vhy should you feel such an interest? — What 
account do I owe to you — ?" 

" Ah, madam, do not speak in that tone," cried Julien, 
almost beside himself. '* Either you have disregarded 
the antipathy Uiat you must feel for such a man, on ac- 
count of jny uncle's M'calth,-~and in that case I have 
absolutely nothing to say, — or you have endured his inso- 
lent offer with a patience that has deceived him ; and, if 
this is so, I can easily understand the cause of your pa- 
tience,— your goodness. You were afraid that M. An- 
toine would visit his resentment upon us." 

*' It is true, M. Julien : I thought of your mother, and 
avoided making a reply ; I asked time for refloction ; I 
hoped that, to please me, he would keep his word, and 
restore Madam Thierry to comfort and happiness. It 
was wrong, perhaps, for I am naturally sincere, and I 
failed to be so in this case. But how could I suppose 
that this violent and ill-mannered old man would begin 
by trying to compromise me? And yet he has done so^ 

104 AirroniA. 

and God onlj luiowa what will bo tho eod or lliii d»> 
■gTMftUe affiurl Bot I ought not to think aboot ihaL 
Sineo w} DOgotiolioiu ia jour faror Lave failed, it is ael< 
fiib is Bie to compUio of mj own troubles. Ia fkct, I 
E«j{i«t more tbui uijtbiDg cIm that I shall no longer bo 
mUa to MiTO TOO, after boitig tho caoso of a gmot dis- 
«aur. What u to be dono with a man who mistakes mj 
Aor for eoqoeliy, and xkj silonco for an avowal ? " 

Julian f^ Dpon bis knees ; and, as Madam d'Estrello, 
alarmed and surprised, was about to fljr, ho said, — 

** Don't be afraid, madam ; (his is not a thoatricol 
Jecloration ; I am not a madman, and I am pcrforminga 
■wioii dolj in thankiog jou, upon mj kuecs, in mj 
notber'B Bome. Grailtudo for such goodness as joun 
most be oxpresscd, not bj words, but bj adoration. 
Kow," added Julion, riaiug, " I must also tell you that I 
SB • man, and that I should despise myself if mj love, 
•Toa for the most tender of mothers, could induce mo to 
•oeept the sacrifice (bat you propose. No, madam, do. 
Ton most show do considcmtioa for M. Antoioo Thierry ; 
jroa most not allow him to sup(ioso, for on instant longer, 
that be can aspire, — poor man I ho is a fool ; but fools 
niiat be held in check, like troublcsomo and badly b^ 
havcd cfaildren. I will undertake this duty, and I will go 
•t ODce, with Tour permission, to disabuM him forever." 

** Ah, Moa Z)(e«, you yourself? " said Julio. " No I do 
aet drire him to desperation, I will write — " 

" And for my pert," replied JuHen, proudly, and witli a 
borst of passion that did not displease Uadam d'Bsirelle, 
" I will not allow yon to write. Do you suppose that I 
an each a child as to bo afraid of his anger, or so great 
a eoword as to allow you to bo exposed to his importuni> 
tiea? Do yoB think that my mother, any more than my^ 
Mlf, would accept favor* lliat would cost you the shadow 
of a falsehood f We would give our lives to save you 
flma Ibo least suffering ; and is it your place to suffer aad 
to be persocatod for us? No, madam, uodBrsiond lu 
bouer. Uy mother's eentimoDU are as noble as your 
•va ; It was with th* greatest roluctanco that she agreed 
to MMfl IL Antoine's assist anc e. At present, she woald 



b1u(«h to do 00 ; sho will abhor (ho thought of hi« bcnefito, 
AvhcD she knows what they woald cost jrou. As for me, 
I am nothing, and will never be anything in jour lifo ; 
but let a man, speaking from his heart, assnro 70a that 
he has no /ear, either of poverty, or Tcngeance, or any 
sort of persecution. I have done my duty, and will con- 
tinue to do it ; I will support my mother until her last 
brexUh ; I would fight with the universe, if it wore neces- 
sary, for her sake. Do not be troubled, therefore, about 
her fate, you who love her so well. If she had notliiog 
else, she would prefer your friendship to aU M. Antoino'a 
wealth. For my part, it is enough for me to have been 
allowed the privilege of telling you * I lovo you ' in this 
one moment of my life, without offending you and without 
seeming insane : this recollection will always make me 
proud and huppy ; I am speaking to your soul, and there is 
no feeling in my heart that is not worthy of you. Adieu, 
madam I Live happy and tranquil; and if yon ever 
want some task performed that others find impossible, 
remember there is a man living who will do it, — a maa 
poor, humble, unknown, but able to move mountains ; 
for, when ho is striving for his mother or for you, he is 
will, — he is faith in person." 

Without seeking or waiting for an answer, Julien went 
out, and was in the street in the twinkling of an eye. 
Antoino was waiting for him with feverish impatience ; 
he was just about rushing into the house liko a bomb- 
shell, when Julien reappeared. 

** So you have come ! " ho cried ; ^^ the answer must 
be at least four pages long. Where is it? " 

** Come a little farther off, monsieur," replied Julien, 
taking his arm, and leading him across the street ; ** there 
is so much noise here, that we cannot hear our own 


They went into an open lot, where there was a placard 
bearing the inscription, — *' Land for $aU,'* Julien ecu* 
tinued, — 

•• Madam d'Estrelle read your letter, uncle, and having 
done so, summoned me into her presence, and intrusted 
me with a verbal answer/' 



«« And brief.* 

^ WImhi joo offorod tho ooontess jronr band, tbo iroag- 
ed tbai 700 wero out of jour sodbos, and was afraid of 
lio^ alone witb jroo ; tho promiaod to'rofloct, 00 at to 
li nd of yon. In point of fact, sbe nocded no timo for 
Aeelioii, and tbii ii bor answer : sbe regrets tbat sbe 
HI be unable to come to your bouse to-morrow, and sbe 
ads 70a word tbat, from tbis time, sbe will not be at 
Nne wben joa call." 

^ Is sbe going away ? Wbore is sbe going ? ** 
^ It is not mj place to explain ber message ; 70a most 
iderstand it*** 

«« Oh 1 it is mj formal dismissal ? ** 
M So it would seem.** 

** And sbe commissions vou to inform mo? ** 
^ No ; I undertook to do so witbout asking bor con« 

^ Wbj so, — I sbould like to know." 

^ Yon alreadj know, monsieur. Did you not tell mo 
oi mj motber^s fortune and mine dopeoded upon tbe 
leooragement given by Madam d'EstroHc to your mat- 
nonial bopes? It was for tbis reason tbat I seised so 
kgeriy tbe excuse you gave me for going to ber bouse ; 
hoped tbe strange character of your letter would in« 
lee her to grant me an intenriew. Yon did not foresee 

** On the contrary, mordim 1^ cried M. Antoine ; '* I 
kid to myself plainly, that that reiy tUng would bap- 
n, if — * 


^ If 1 bad guessed correctly. I understand now." 

** For my part, I do not understand.** 

^ It is tbe same to me.** 

** Excuse me, will roa allow mo to guess? Yon im- 
plied that I was soch a fool, such a madman, such an 
Bpatinent fop, as to aspire to attract the attention of 
lie lady?* 

^Aadaewlaasaieof it! Yoo bare deolared year 

. ANTONIA. 107 

sontimenU, — your triumphant manner tolb mo so I Y<m 
aro rubbing jour hands with joj, to think that 70a hayo 
occasioned mv defeat. You will toll the ttoiy to jrour 
dear mother I You will say to her, *Tho rich man ia 
cheated I Ho thoup;ht to throw us a morsel of broadf 
and take a young wife ; lio was going to turn us into rid* 
iciile, and disinherit us. Look at him I Ho has onlj 
succeeded in covering himself with shame. Ho will grow 
. old alonOf he will die an old bachelor, and, in spito of 
him, we shall bo rich/ ** 

'* You aro mistaken, sir,^ replied Julien, with perfoci 
self-possession; '*I have never made any such ignoblo 
calculations, and never will do so. You inay marry to* 
morrow, if you choose, and marry whom you choose ; I 
shall be delighted, provided that you do not compromise mj 
dignity, and my mother's, in the transaction. I wished to 
have an opportunity of saying this to ^ladam d'Estrollo ; 
I repeat it to you. And now I have onlv to recall that 
you are my uncle, and to take leave of you with duo 

Julien bowed deeply to U. Antoine, and was turning 
away. The latter called him back imperiously. 

'*And my lily ? " he cried| ** who will pay me for that?** 

" Name the price, sir." 

*' Five hundred thousand francs." 

'* Aro you talking seriously ? " 

'* You ask roe whether I am talking seriously?" 

*' I believe you, knowing that you would bo incapabla 
of deceiving any one who trusts you." 

" Base flattery I " 

Tlie face of the young artist flushed ; he looked steadily 
at M. Antoine, and tried to pursuade himself that 
he was so insane that a man in his senses ought not 
to^ mind his invectives. Antoine read his thought, and 
tried to be more calm. 

" No matter for that," he said, ** let it pass. I will 
go take the ruin aud the picture ; my loss is the prico 
that I must pay for my goodness and confidence ; it will 
teach me to be true, hereafter, to my own ideas and prin- 
ciples. Lead the way, and not another word I " 


Tber ntnroed to the studio. Silent m penonifiod 
iilo« IL Antoioe took up the plant, the broken slolk, 
the picture, and, without allowing anj one to help 
without looking at Julian or moving his lips, he 
the pavilion never to enter it again. 
llareel soon returned, to learn what had happened ; 
Julien, with frank sinceritj, told him everything in 
Ifadam Thierrj^s presence. 

^ Yivm^ he added, ** I know that my thoughtless con- 
has caused you great anxiety. You have thought 
as foolish as undo Antoine, and my mother is fright- 
about a sentiment that she imagines will be fatal to 
Undeceive yourself, and recover your tranquillity, 
mother ; and vou. Marcel, give me back the respect 
to which I am entitled, as a reasonable man. One can 
bo so, in spite of committing an imprudence; and I 
•cknowledge that I was very thoughtless in offcriog onr 
benefactress an object that did not belong to me. It 
was a misplaced outburst of gratitude, but she was 
not shocked, because she saw that my feeling was 
worthy of her, and was perfectly respectful. I flatter 
myself that she is more than ever persuaded of this, siuco 
granting me an interview, and I swear to both of you, by 
•verythmg that is most sacred, — by filial love and faitli- 
ful friendship, — that there shall be nothing in my future 
eooduct by which Madam d'Estrello can bo annoyed, or 
you afflicted. Do not regret the house at Sevres, my 
dear mother ; wo can do without it I At all events, you 
don't want Madam d'Estrelle to become Madam Antoine 
Thieny for the sake of obtaining it, and you certainly 
doD*t suppose that such a thing could have happened. As 
fiw you, my dear Marcel, I tlmnk you for all the trouble 
you have taken ; but you must be thoroughly convinced 
that your efforts are thrown away, and that uncle Au- 
toioo will never give anything without an equivalent. 
Let us Im composed, and resume the course of life which 
this bad dream of fortune interrupted. I have still my 
haiMls to work with, and a heart with which to cherish 
jm'i and believe me, from to day I shall be mors active, 


more coarageoosi and sorer of the fiitore than erer 

Julien was speaking the truth, and not making a dis- 
play of courage to reasaure his mother. Although far 
from being tranquil, ho felt strong 2 his two intcnriewa 
with Julie, succeeding each other so rapidly, had given ft 
new direction to his thoughts, — a new impulse to his 

Inspired bj her presence, he had expressed, nnczpeet* 
cdly and without premeditation, his noble and devoted 
passion. lie was sure that ho had opened his heart to her 
freely, and that she had neither been alarmed nor offended. 
Did he believe that she loved him? No; but he felt 
vaguely, perhaps, that she did, and his heart was thrilled 
with a mysterious ecstasy. Naturally inclined to an 
ideal enthusiasm and self-sacrifice, he did not shrink 
from the part that ho felt called upon to perform. What 
he had said, he meant to do, and he was strong enough 
to do it. To love in silence, — to hope, seek, strive but 
for one thing, — the opportunity of proving his devo* 
tion, — this was his plan, his will, his confession of faith, 
as it were. 

" I may have to suffer a great deal for the present," 
he thought ; " but it will give me so much joy to suffer 
nobly, and hide my love for her sake, that I shall rise 
above my misery, and my mother will no longer be af« 
flicled. In the struggle between my passions and duties, 
I must bS really great. And why not ? I have always 
loved noble aspirations and elevated sentiments, and 
ought, therefore, to be equal to the trial. Since I am a 
man, and believe we can best fulfil our duties in ft 
, domestic life, I suppose I shall do some day as Marcel 
has done : marry a good woman, who tlicncetbrth will bo 
my best friend. Up to that time, I will live free and 
pure. This noble Julie, who can never be mine, I will 
love without hope, and, if possible, without desire ; I 
will love her with a sublune, fraternal friendship, and will 
seek inspiration in this sentiment. Others will regard 
me merely as a gentle, patient artist, seeking grace and 
bloom in baskets of roses ; but, by studying the divhue 


no ANTON! A. 

SBjiterj of puritj in the bosom of flowers* one maj learn 
to eompcehend the sanctity of lovo. It seems to me that 
Ili0e is something great m being able to say to yourself 
thai 7011 might seek to win a beloved woman, and love 
kcr too well to wish to do so. My life will be one of 
aPMsditataon and sentiment, and to this life I will bo true 
as long as possible. I ^ill live in my thoughts as 
others do in their acts, and perhaps I shall bo happier 
than any one else. My entliusiasm will not bo wasted 
«poo delosions. I shall live in constant communion with 
the beantiful, the pore, the great : more fortunate in this 
than my poor father, who felt this longing, and thought to 
•atisQr it by external luxury, and the society of distin- 
goished people, I shall not require so much ; and, asking 
only the approval of my conscience, shall reiUly be richer 
than be." 

In casting himself thus, of his own accord, into the 
regions of the ideal, Julien obeyed a secret inclination 
that had been developed in him at an early day. He had 
received an excellent education, aod had not only studied 
his art with enthusiasm, but had read a groat deal. His 
severe enthusiasm would not allow him to enjoy all sub- 
jects indiscriminatelv, or to take pleasure in every stylo. 
•Among all the authors who had nourished his youtli, 
the groat Comeillo was tlio one whom ho had road 
with the most satisfaction and bcncflt. It was in his 
works that ho had found the noblest aspirations, the most 
beroie sentiments, clothed in the most elevated forms. 
He preferred his teachings displayed in action, — the 
pictare that he presented of great virtues embodied in 
Uving characters, — to the discussions of contemporane- 
oos philosophy. 

We do not mean that he disdained the spuit of his age, 
or held himself aloof from the prodigious movement that 
was going on at that time in ideas. On the contnury, he 
was one of the robust products of this epoch, so unique in 
hisUMry for its grand illusions, leading the way to formid- 
able resolations. The last days of the monarchy had 
cooM, hoi Torj few persons were thinking of overthrow- 
.i^ it. Jolion, at least, was not among Uie nnmber who 

cheriahed tbia dream. Ha wm far cnoagb from attcmpt- 
iog any cDicrprira whoievcr of a poliiicel oaturo. For 
his part, ho wna JDtoxicatcd by the discoveries nod drcama 
of moral acionco and of Daiunil science, recently extri- 
cated in great blocks, as it were, from ilio quarries of tho 
past. Lc^mnge, Dailly, Lalaodo, Dcrthollot, ftloogo, 

. CoDdorccI, Lavoisier, lind already raroliUionisod thought. 
Wlicu wo ginuco at tliC rapid sitcccssioD of fortunate oflbrta 
thnt, in n few yours, bad transformed ostralogy into M- 
tronomy, nlcbcmy into cliomistry, nod, along tbe wliolo 
liuo of human knowledge, liitd replaced blind pnyndice 
by cxpcrimcDtal analysis, it is impossible to deny that tho 
philosophers of tho eishtccnlh ccnlnry, in warring ogttinat 
Buperstitioo, bnd freed individiinl genius from its fottcrs, ns 
well as the religious and sociol conscience of peoples. And 
what audAc!i]r, what enlhusinsin, what intoxication ia 
these first flights towards tlio fiiluro I TIic human mind 
had just saluted tho sun of progress, nud already imo^ 
ined that it had taken possession of all its rays. Tho 
first montgolfiira balloon had scnreely risen upon ita 
wings of fire, whon two men ventured to cross tlio dian- 
nol. At once humanity cried, '* Wo are muslora of tlio 

' atuiosplioro, wo are iiiliiibiiiknts of hcuveu 1 " 

At llio very limo when our story cliniicos to oeeur, the 
now idea of iho ugo, just starting in ils noblo atrocr, luul 
been siimmcd up in tho wonl iKr/cetibUUi/, Condorcot 
had niudo a inagnidccal ouilina of tho doctrine, and, 
without allowing for human wenliucss, urged ils influito 
destiny, llo boliovod in the iuiinito to such an extent, 
that ho oven hopod to discover the oceret for annihiloting 
death itself, and all readers and thinkers wore beginning 
to bclieTo with him in tho indefinite prolongation of phys- 
ical life. Farmontior believed that ho had exoroised for- 
aver the spoctro of famine, by acclimating tho potato. 
Mesmer thought that he had discovered a mysterious 
•gent, Iho Boureo of everything wonderful. Sniut Mar- 
tin announced the regeneration of the soul, and dissipatod 
the terrora of the old dogmas with tho dogma of innnile 
light. Caglioatro pretended to rosuscitate magio in a ' 
natural and oomprohensible manner. In a word, oU 


Biocb, die BKMt practical u w«U u the moat rotnantlo, 
mra ioloxicated by the wildeit dreams of the futare, 
and, amid this OTei>«xcitement, the preHnt eeemed aa 
obetada quite nnworthjr of any aotJce. The old mon- 
archy, the iaOexible clwgy, were Mill erect, and were 
•ndearoring to leue again tlie power that wae flipping 
from then ; but liberty had just been inaugurated in 
America, and France felt that hor day wa^ near. No 
bloodibed waa anticipated. DelightTnl cbimenu excluded 
idea* of Teogeaaee. Upon tlie eve of a terrible Btarm, 
tbe pomil* rejoiced, nod a mysterious fever of ideas pre- 
pared lor the mngniflcoot outbnnt of '89. 

Julien was fhll of all that eager faith and resolntioo 
that seem to descend providentially upos the earth at 
periods preliminary to grent conflicts ; but there was a 
certain tranqnillily about him, duo to his hnbits, training, 
and also to his natural disposition. He could not have 
argued about it ; but one of his marked characteristics 
was a philosophical mysticism, and a sort of inward ne- 
cessity of Boeriflcio]; himself. If he had not loved a 
woman, he would liavo loved liberty with fanaticism. 
Lovo was revealed to liini under the form of deTol)on> 
As soon as Julie's image tilled his soul, ho thought of 
himself merely as a force whoso oIIIcb was to serve and 
protect Julie. Did tbe idea occur to him that she might 
and ought to belong to him? Yes, undoubtedly, it oc- 
curred to him in n confupcd, and sometimes in an impe- 
rioos manner; but he resisted it bravely. He bad no 
fttqudioos, and was not like node Antoioe, dauled by the 
nuik, titk, and elegance of the oonntess ; ho know Julie's 
modiocr* birth, ana the embarrassed state of her finances. 
He considered himself, moreover, her equal ; for he was 
ooe of those men of the third estate, filled with a legiti- 
mate aod obslinata pride, who were beginning to say,^ 
. Tlu third alttt* w ntrylkiHg ; as people said afterwards, — 
Th» ftofU itvKTvtiting ; as some day ^without njecting 
any form of nobility, whether coming from the sword, 
the robe, the workshop, or the plough— they will say,— 
Tk» iMdindMol is tvirytkutf, Jnlten did not consider 
y— *■■" d'EsCreUe as a woman plaaed abora Um \i\ .«l»* 

conutances, but hj hor panonal meriL That morit 1m 
veiy probftbly Bzazgerated. It is tbo pririlega of lors to 
seo tho objects of iia worship through the modiom of the 
idea), and to eonsidor itMlf CKlI«d upoD to make coni '- 
of diTinities. Thus, an admirable humility and li 
less prido were united in his passion. 

" X am not worthy of sueh a woman," he said to him> 
self; " I must becomo so : and when, by being patiant, 
diiioteroitod, doToiod and rospoctful, X have made injaolf 
worth/ of hor,^fth, then, perhaps, X shall fool tut I 
hare the right to saj, — * L>ovo me I * " 

Sometimes ho asked himself wbothor this day would 
come before Julio's life had been disposed of br the un* 
expected circumstances of the future ; and to thie doubt 
he answered, — • 

"Supposing thnt it is so, she will respect me, — pet^ 
haps will feel a friendship for me, — and the time I Iikto 
consecrated to govomiog myself nobly, will not have boon 
thrown away." 

Madam Thierry, therefore, was both Borprisod and do> 
lighted to SCO thnt hor son, from tho very day of tho groat 
catastrophe, suddenly recovered his cheerfulness, and 
every uppcarance of moral and pLysicnl health. 

"M^ friend," she said to Mnrcol, as slie was talking 
whh him alone, " I scarcely dare acknowledge what ia in 
my miad ; but he looks m bappy I i/bn i^m I do you 
think it can bo possible ? " 

"What?" said Marcel. "Oh, yes, — big visit to 
Madam d'Estrelle I There is no saying, my good annt ; 
he is handsome and cimiablo enough to please a great 
lady ; but tho countess is ruined, and can only be roliovod 
from her embarrassments by a rich marriage. Wo ought 
to wish to see her well married, provided that her hn^ 
band ia not too old a man. She Is not determined and 
courageous, as 'you were, and, besides, tho step that soo* 
oeeded in your case is usually a failure. An absorbing 
passion is a number that draws once out of a hundred 
thousand times in the lottery of destiny. Do not deeira 
to see it tried, either by Julian or the conoteas." 

" Ko, I do not wish anything of the kind ; it ia too 



lMnrdoafl,ia&ct; but auppoaing ibe loTMhio: what 

** Z do not know ; but she i« virtaoDi, and h« ia an 
: thaf would both raffer. It would be hotter 

■* iWii what J said at first. And y«twhata 


if tber eoold be •epontted." 

■* iW ii what 1 said at 
Xlwj are both so beautiful, so young and so good I 
fhte is sometimea nrj unjust I If my poor husband bod 
loft him mr fortune, JuUen would bavo been a good 
BMtdi for her, dnce abo is poor, and has no fomilj pride. 
JJos I God pordou me I Tbii is the flrat time that I 
bavo erar blamed mj Andri 1 Do not spook of it again, 
Ifareel, — nerer again 1 " 

**We moat reflect, bowoTer," replied the lawyer, 
** and not allow the fire in Jntioa'a heart to blase too 
Ugh ; to^y it is an illumioatioD, probably because he 
kopea ; bHmorrow will be the conflagration." 

"What shall we do then. Marcel?" 

*' I don't know. I wiah I could fiud out what Madam 
d'Eatrelle feels, aud, above all, learn about node Anioine ; 
fin- 1 am aot deeeired 1^ bis pretended philoeophy, and 
Z fear — " 

"What do yon fear?" 

" ETeiything 1 With aneb a man, what may wo not 

Tbe emotions of this erentful day mode Madam d'Es- 
trelle ahnoat ill. Julion'a viait completely unaerrod her ; 
but, when be had goue, the sort of forer into which she 
bad bem thrown by U. Autoine's pnipoaal, waa auo- 
eeeded by a languor that was not without swcetDcsa. 

" Eraiy one would langb at mo," aha said, " for feel- 
ing sttdi eonfldonce in the word of a man whom I have 
knows only for a few boura ; and yot I am certain that 
Im ia my friend,^ my true friend. But ought I to a^ 
eept thla ardent fWendahip 7 Will it not be dangoroiu for 
bim and for me? It ia tno that be did not oak mo to 
Mcept iL He went away like a ponon who reliea upon 
himaalf akne, and who lores without asking permiasioa. 
Sinea be aara that he has no h<^, has be not the right to 
IsTo? Aadkttw, indeed, oosld I pnTeafcUnl" 


Julio knew pcrfoctly well, in hor own heATt, th»t iba 
ought Dot to Iitivo received Jiilicn, after wliot M i H a in 
Thierry bod tolil her of Lis feeling towarda henolfl 

" In foci," she said, " whj did I rocciTQ him when mj 
first impulse was to send tliis simplo and final mcBBOgo : — 
* There is no answer I ' That would hare freed mo botli 
from the uncle and nephew. But did tlu) latter dosorre 
to bo humiliated? Did he not come for the pnrpoM of 
dofcndin;; Uig honor from his uncle's contemptible trick- 
eries? Had he not the right to tell me what he did npon 
this point? And if ho added a few tender words. — too 
tender for his own good, perhaps, — was there anything 
to wound me in what be said ? Is it my duty to be of- 
fended? I cannot tell. lie ofTcrcd himself, — he gav« ' 
himself to mo, — without seeking anything in rctam. He 
did not even give me time to answer him. Whether I 
wish it or not, ho has mode me a present of his heart and 
bis life. Indeed, he did not talk like a lover, but like ntj 
slave, and at the same time my master. It is all very 
singular, and I cannot understand it. What I feel for 
him I do not know ; but I am certain of one thing, and 
that is, that I believe in him." 

It seemed to Julie, as well as to Madam Thierry and 
Marcel, that the morrow of this strange day would be 
marked by the meat important events. They wondered, 
in vain, what M. Antolno's spite would induco bim to do. 
To their surprise, « number of days passed, and no change 
occurred in their respective situations. The horlieul- 
tarist had gone into the country, but no one knew whore. 
He hod no country-seat, at least so Mnrcel thought, bnt 
the lawyer was mistaken in supposing tliat ho knew alt 
obout his afTitirs, Wlion convinced that he was really 
absent, he became noxious. The people at his liousO| 
however, showed him orders written by his hand which 
tlio head gardener received every day, glviug preciso 
directions about the treatment of certain delicate plants. 
These faorticulluml bulletins bad no dote, nod no post* 
uaik. They were brought by the valet^e-chambro of the 
ez-ehip«wnor,— an old sailor, throroughly incorruptible^ 
devoted as e negro, silent es e log. 

"Whtt u« wa lo think?" .nid Marcel to Madam 
Thieny ; *< he la probablj io a groat raffe, or he innj 
perfaapa be aahamed of hia folly, and fool like hidiaft for 
• while. Let ua hope that be will retnm band of his 
Bank tor malrimonj, and that he will nuke it a point of - 
honor not to break off hit negotiations in regard to the 
pATiUotu The indemnity will be of great serrico to yon, 
and I cannot bide Irom tou that Madam d'Estrelle is in 
Beat need of the sum that he promised her. I cannot 
fanagiaa what toikhdoiis fly is stinging her creditors, but 
tbey are bMuining to show the strangest impatienoe and 
aoxietT. Tbnj hare gone so far as to threatea tliot they 
vQI jrleld their elainu to a principal creditor, who will 
es rt si nly ^ecnlato npon the emborrnssment of my client ; 
•othing worse than that conld happen." 

A. few days afterwards ho had ah iDterriew with Mad* 
am d'Estrelle ; her father-in-law was very ill, OLd she - 
kad joat retamed from paying him a risiL 

**X am not at all easy," he said ; " I fear that the 
maranis will die wtthoot sotUing your afikin." 

"I do ttot connt mnch upon his goodneu," replied 
JoUe, *' but I cannot bolieTO that ho will leave mo Strug* 
|}iog with the counts creditors, when ho can sooosilypuf 
•o rad to my tiiab. We must moko allowaaco for the 
diildish fear that selBsh old men feol of poverty 1 bat 
•Aer him — " 

"After kim?^" replied Marcel, " tho dovil is aflor 
him, — I mean Is at his heels, Uis wife is a terrible 
woman. I am afraid of her. She does sot lovo you ; and, 
•ineo yonr husband was not her son, yon have do daimi 

** ifim Dmt /too ses the dark side of ererytbing, my 
dear ^^7** I "^^ narquia is neither very old nor very 
■lek. H« must hare mode his will. The morchioneu 
ia exeeedinijly devoot, and she will do from a sense of 
dn^ what ■!» woold not do out of tenderness. Do not 
liMoarage ma, you who have always sustained me." 

.** I sboold oot b« disoouraged myself, if I could lay 
mf hand opoa b^ wbimaioal undo. If he would buy 
■adpnrfartlMpkTiliootWesbotildgnia » del^ of ona 


or two miniths. Wa should lutra tinM to uU the liul* 
fnrm in Beauvouu, or to field it ftt ft modoTftto price ; 
othorwiM it will bo Misfid brutally, and we KhftU Iom «!- 
(osetlicr remoAnU of proporly which are still Taluablfl." 

Julio, fomieHy, had been Tory much troubled about 
her precarious position, bnt elko wu in ft Mota of utter 
Uuitude, at present, that took the pUco of cooiftge. So 
much philosophy did she display, that Marcel waa am^ 
prised, and at last became irril^ed. 

" The devil take me I " he said, in a low roice, to 
Uadnm Thierry, **one would swear that the a^ed 
nothing better then to be put into the street," 

Was this really Madam d'Estrelle's secret thoaghtP 
Hod she said to herself that if her husband's fiuoily 
abandoned her, led hor poor, she would no lonsor owe 
■o much rcspL-ct to the name she bore ; that she misiit 
disappear from society, live as she chose, marry acoord- 
iDg to licr iacliuation? 

Yes and no I At moments she abondonod herself to 
the dream of obscure happiness wliich hitil come to her, 
like a delightful vision, in Julien's studio. At other 
times she became the Countess d'Estrclle agnin, and 
asked herself, with terror, how sho oould break away 
from hor surrouudings and habits, and, above all, endure 
blame and contempt \ sho who, up to this time, had boon 
so i^rcat a favorite in the small but oristocralio circle ia 
which she moved. 

It is well known that there wns at this time a Tiolont 
and dosperate rooction in tlie aristocratie world agaiast 
the inrasioos of philosophy, IN:rhaps no other historical 
epoch presents such Strange contrasts 1 On ono sido pub* 
lie opinion, qaeon of the future, was proclaiming doctrinos 
of equality, scorn of social distinction, the philosophy of 
Jenn Jacques Bousseau.of Voltaire and DidoroL On the 
other hand, tlie cooslituted nuiboriiies, terriHeil by a prtH 
gress which tho^ tiod not, dared oppose, were now too 
late trving a resistance, whose only effect wns to plunge 
thorn mto no abyss. SlIU, to one whose horison wu link* 
ited, and who could not foresee the morrow, this reaisU 
uoi appeared fbmidable ; ud a timid and gintlo wonua 


like tba CoonttM d'EctreUo, wm toij tuaorally ftUrmed 
bj it. Ltkfl All of hor clou, iha imnginod Ihnt the con- 
doct of tbo court would dotorminB tho dcstinj of Franco. 
Aad tbero wcra momonti, jiist Kt thnt time, wlioa iho 
tenifled kinj did liia iMtt to rosDuilalo tlio monarcli/ 
of Lonia XIV. Hit «fibrU were pitiful, and ntterl/ ute- 
Ibm ; bat, regarded from a certain poiat of view, tliojr 
•pprared of nifficieat importanca to irritate the people, 
rad aogment the pride of the pririleged dauee. The 
cotnt end eitr bad proclaimed the triumph of Voltaire ; 
oa the da/ after that triumph, tho clergy refused to grant 
liim a tomb. Uirobcau had written a chef d'ccurre 
uainat the arbitrarj power of tho leUre ib cacA«<. The 
km2 bad laid, ia speaking of BcnomnrchaiB, — " If hii 
piece is plajed (the Mnrriago of Figaro), tho Sostile 
mast bo torn down I " Tho ihini estate was constantly 
iitercaaiog in inlolligcncc, ombiiion, nnd real importnoco ; 
the oouit hod reestablished the privileges of rank in the 
ormT as well as in tho clorgj, and hnd decided, — wlial 
Cardinal Bicbeliou would not bare dared decide, — that 
in order to become ao officer or prelate, it shonid bo noc- 
MMTT to prove four gcaerationa of nobilitj. Tbo Amei^ 
icao CoDstitutioa hod just proclaimed ilio principles of the 
Contntd Social of Jean Jacques Rousseau ; Wosluogton 
aod lAfkjette were dreaming of freeing (heir slavea, aad 
Ibe Freoch minister had granted new encouragement (o 
tb« ilare trade ; the lower ranks of tho clergy wore 
beeoiaiag mora and more democratic, da/ by dn/ ; Sor- 
boDM was seeking a quarrel with Bufiba, and Ibo higher 
•cclesiasttci bad demanded a new law for reprtuing tk« 
art e/ wnling ; publie opinion had raised ils voice against 
capital Minishment ; esamtaolKm fry torture was in full 
vigor. The quean had protected Duumarcbala ; Ba/nal 
war (breed to become an exile. 

Tbeae attempts at r«action, amid the general teodea- 
dea of tho age, were repcatod ia derout circles. The 
principal nol^y, however the/ may have difTorod in 
etbar mqMcU, apvod hi blaming time of its members 
who aUeirad the»Mlv«a to be aadaoed b/ tbo new philoe- 
■f^. iiflanMrvMlTCMlooiw,th«Uii| and qnMB wait 



OTOrwhclmod with curBoa and sarcnsnu, u non ns lliajr 
•eomcd to abandon tlio tlicorica of tlio Itinf* good ptea^ 
vre. But, ns toon a* tlioy laid n »loao upoa tlio fcoblo 
dam tkat wna crcctinff n^iiut tho rcvoluiiooarj Bpirit, 
tlio dcTOlcca of llicso circles roaowcd ihcir allcgianco, nod 
ima<:Incd ihatorcrj-lliiagwns saved; no odo luitpcclcd tbo 
rapiililf of tlio torrent, and tlio QcaniCM of tho OTcrflow. 
Scoffs, Bcome, and coricnturo* wore tlio order of tho 
day. Tbo coming danger hu w nttcrly despind, thAt 
it wot laughed to Bcom. 

Tho Mt of pcoplo with whom Julio \ru intimate w«ro 
timid and gontlo in dispoeition, liko Ucriclf, and wore 
opposed to oxnggcration of every kind ; but, boyood 
this little coterie, she full the laQuenco of a lorgor and 
mora formidable circle, — that of the family of iho Count 
d'Estrcllo, This haughty family disliked her, bocaiiso 
■ha silently resisted their tyranny; and, altlioiigU sho 
avoided them as miicli ns possible, slio suffered from tho 
coosciousDcss of their displcosuru. Still bcj-oud tlii]) for^ 
midablo circle, another, yet mora powerful and mora 
threatening, — tbat of the second wilb of the Marquia 
d'Estrello, — cost a shadow over her life. Excessively 
bigoted, opposed to every sort of progress, despising the 
philosophers, openly hoslilo to the great Voltaira himself, 
imbued with all the prejudices of birth, and angrily occu- 
pied about the preservation of its protended rights, — thia 
coterie inspired Julie with the greatest alarm, ller fear 
may have been childish, but it was excessive and irro> 
aistiblc. Tlio marchioness was known to be an avarieioua, 
wicked, and treacherous woman ; and we have seen (hat 
tbo Uaroness d'Aacourl herself, in spile of her canieiTi^ . 
tivo ideas, spoke of her, as well os of her frionds, with tho 
greatest aversion, Julio was but slightly acqunintod 
witli her, and tried to believe her piety sincoro, but sUo 
was afraid of her ; and when she asked bersolf why ah* 
vu living in such a state of timidity and melancholy, 
tho disagreeable spoetre of (his wiihorod personage, with 
green eyes and pitiless tongue, appeared boforo lior, It 
was tbereforo out of apprehension that sho tried (o dofend 
tb« marcbioaeai is conTenation, and to silence bar 

lao AitTONtA. 

fiModi wboa tbej Ttotnnd to call h«r a ban? *i>d i^ 
bird of HIhniwiu 

It WM <nly uUiral that poor Jnlie ahould detest ths 
opinioM of the mArchioaeH and lier frionda, but she wai 
too IiMi^erieoeed, and loo ignorant of Ibe genoral spirit of 
tha age, to ondenland bow triflinstbo persecutions would 
bo that sha wonid have to bravei if sbe bad resolved lo Hvo 
•eeording to ber heart and conscience. She was sbnt op 
la • littk cage of prejudices, like a bird who thinks that 
Iho lamno b all ■ cage around it, and who no longer 
ooiqnbeada the murmur of the wind among the trees, 
•od the flight of other birds in apace. 

"Itmajbo ibatthm anhappj people," she said to 
fcsCTslf, ** bat tb^ are lor vrnvj I and how can I join 

Thns it is, upon tbo eve of a terrible rcTolntion, that 
iba prisooers of the post woep oror ihoir chain*, and 
think the/ are riveted upon tbent for all alemit/, Usu- 
•QjT, bowever, Julie forsotall these questions of external 
&eU, to loae herself in vague reveries, and in secret 
Mixieties, of a new kind. We will soon see what sbe wae 
nflecting about, and how difficult it was for this generous, 
bat timid heart, to enter into harmonj with itself. 

KfleeD dajB had passed awa/ since the catastrophe of 
Iba ^atoato, and Madam d'EatrcUe had neither seen or 
beard of Jnlien. Sbe could almost have imo^oed that 
ba bad iMTor existed, and that ber two interviews with 
bimbad been a dream. Mmlam ThiorryUadnotcntarod 
bar garden. Julie, verjr much surprised at ber absence, 
had sent to ioquire about ber, and reooived word that sbe 
was • little uawoU; — thero was nothing serious the 
nattar, but she was obliged to keep her room. 

She questioned Uaroe), bat without obtaioing an/ sat- 
jafartioo; be repeated that bis aunt was somewhat indis- 
poaad, bat eUoed into no details. Julie dared not 
qge sti ea him brtber ; she saw plainly that her neighbor 
voatad to break off tvorT' sort of rebuioo, even the most 
{■diraet, between her son and herself. Finallj, Uadam 
Thianj ra^paaied ooa moniaf , when the coanleas had 

ceased lo expect her. loterrogated by Julie with dmiditf 
eod reserve, she replied, with Kflcctionftto confidenea, — 

"Mfdoar and well-bolored countess, joa must far- 
don me far having hod a bod dream, which ia ntnr 
diuipatod. Too liostj in jtidgio^, I allowed mjiolf 
to be foolishl; alormod, and alnrmcd jron with my chi* 
ncnis. I believed that my sod liod llio audocit/ to lor* 
you ; believed it so firmly, that it bos required fifleea 
days lo disabuse me of llio i<Ica. Forget what I told 
you, and let my poor child enjoy oace more tlio respect 
tliat be has never ccosod to dcsorvo. You oro not the 
object of bis prayers and vows. lie venerates yon, as 
ho ought to do ; he would dio for yoa, if necessaij ; but 
bis fealing is not a romantic passion, but an ardent and 
true gratitude. He swore that it was so ; I doubted his 
word at first, but I was vrrong. I have observed, nay, 
more, havo watched him for llio last fifteen days, and I 
am reassured. - He eats, sleeps, talks ; ho is iatorast«d 
in everything, ha comes and goes, works cheerfully ; in 
B word, ho is not in love. He makes no cflbrt to aeo 
you, he talks about you with tranquil admiration, ho aeeka 
no opportunity of attracting your attention, and will 
* sever do so. Pardon mo for my folly, and love me as 

Julio accepted this etatcmcDt, perfectly sincero upon 
the part of Madam Thierry, with amiable satisfaction. 
They talked about other things, and remained togethor 
for an hour, after which tlicy separated, congratulatinff 
each other that they would have no further cause ol 
troublo, and would bo able lo renew their friendship 
without agitation, and witliout fearing that it would be 
dangerous to any ooo. 

Wh^ was it that Julio felt so almngely sad after thia 
Interview? She could not think of any good rcaaoa for 
her melancholy, and laid the blame upon the visits 
tliat she hod happened to receive. She suddenly di»- 
covered that bar old friend Madam des Merges was no 
insnpportoble gossip, that the old Duke do Quesnoy wu 
tiresome and monotonous as a sledgo-hammor ; that her 
ootuin, the wife of the prendeiu, was a prude, oad s 

hjpoerit* ; uid that Um »bU (then wm slwajrs ao abbi 
k vnrjarclm at that time) -was penooal and ineipid. 
Visalljr, when Cainill« came Is make her toilette, she was 
wets, and Mat bar awajr, aajing, — 

"What's the tue?" 

"ntn she recalled her capricioosly, and asked whether 
Iha period of her balf-moumiDg bad Dot ended, three 

** Tea, madam," said Camille," it is realljr over] And 
■■dam ii Ttrj wrong not to throw aside hor mooniiDg* 
in w u a. If she wean tbem much longer, it will lo<4 


" Peo|ile will mj that madam prolongs her regroti out 
«f ceoDomonj, so as to wear out her gray drostoa." 

"That is a very powerful reason, mjr dear, and I 
yield. Uake hoste, and fariog me a roee-colorod dross I " 

" Boae-oolored? No, ma&m, it is too soon for that I 
The/ woold sajr that madam had worn mourning against 
harwQl, and that she has changed her mind as qiiickiyos 
har dresa. Uadam moat wear a pretty loilloite of ehini 
ailk, royal bloc, and embroidered with while bouqnots." 

" Vtrj welL Bat have not all my dresses got oat of 
bshioB daring tba two yeara that I hare been in monm- 

**No, *"*^«'"i I hare taken care of that. I hara 
' Bade the ■leeres orer, and changed the trimmings of the 
vaista. With white satin bows, and a lace coiffure, 
'- ■■iliui will be perfectly well dressed." 

" Bat why sboold I care to dress, Camille, siooe I do 
Mtazpeet anrriiilors?" 

**Bas madam giren otdera that she was not at 

" Ho; hot I shall, since yoa hare suggested It. I 
dooTt want to aea any ooa." 

Caannia looked at her mistress In nrprise. Not tm* 
dantaading her mood, she said to herMlf that madamo 
had tbe bloas, and arranged her toilet without daring to 
break lb* nlenee. Jnlie, sad and abatnotad, allowed 
kwadf to be adoned. Whan the sarrant bad retired, 



c&TTTing off tbfl gnj robes that Iind boconu bar pro^crtT^, 
ebe looked ut hcneir from head lo foot, in m, lugo minor. 
She wu flxqabitely dressed, and btmatiful as aQ angvU 
Tberelbre it was that her heart again oied, W\o£» (As 
«Mf She hid her face in her hands, and began to C17 


TF Julieo had beon a ron6, ho could not have punved 
*■ R bettor course for winning Madam d'Estralle's hoart. 
Da]r succeeded day, and thcjr never mot, oven b; accident. 
And jrct Julio, either from an oxccss of confidence, or 
from liecdlcESQCSS, passed more of her limo in horgnrdcn 
than in tier drawing-room, and preferred a walk amid 
its lonoljr groves to the conversation of her friends. On 
some evenings slia shut herself up, under the pretence of 
roaiiesanesB or weariness, and, at such times, dressed 
elcgantljT, as if oxpcctiog some unusual visit. SUo 
would wander to the very bottom of her garden, huriy 
back in alarm at the slightest sound, return lo see what 
had frightened her, and sink into a sort of amazed revcrio, 
on finding tbot all was quiet and that she was rcalljr alono. 
One day she received a declaration of love, quite well 
written, and without signature or family seal. She was 
very much offended; Julien, she said, had failed in all his 
engagements, and deserved lo be treated with cold disdain. 
On the following day, she discovered that lli is attempt hod 
come from the brother of odo of her friends, and her first 
feeling was one of joy. No, certainly Julion would not 
have written in such tenns ; lie would uot have written at 
all. The lovo-letter, which she bod thought exeoodingly 
graceful, as long as her uncertainty lasted, now seemed 
to her in very bad taste, and she throw it away with scorn. 
But what if Jnlien should take the same means of com- 
municating with ber. Doubtless ha wrote as wall as be 
talked. Why didn't ha writs? 

At Moa M J«U« had uk«d banalf tUi qneation, tho 
•ooaeioaHMM of b«r own waakiwu nuula hor bloih pain- 

" Whit Ii Ui* nM of nr Hlf-control lod mj nuOD," 
' aka aoid to heradf, ** if I u3ow mj bcftrt to go out in this 
my in ponoit of • lovo that nroids mat RnXly I ua 
vmfy prolMied bf Iho indiflbnoeo vHlh which I un r^ 
g™*— *, uid oroD thia ibMQe doot oot con me. ' Whj lun 
I •» inoooaiiteat? I thought tt flnt that maj ndvADCo 
B0« tho pvt of thu jooDg mui woald offend mo, nod 
OMt X woold repolM him h«iightilj ; but, od tho oootrarj, 
I am initsled by his submiuiveuen, wounded bjr hia 
iilutw ; ^ BOgij wiib him because ha lua forgotten me. 
ICj miod mnal be rery morbid." ' 

She was going into a perfumcr'a ahop one day, and met 
Jalian at lb» door. Aa he hod no right to apcAk to her 
1b public, ha pretended not to see her. She noticed npon 
tba ooonter a pretty little fan, which he hod painted for 
his mother, and had broaght to the atore to have mounted. 
T— gi'^g that it woa intended for bar, aba made up her 
■oind to refoaa it; but how impatiently aha waited for 
Oia little preaent. 

** He willaead it to mo mysterionaly," aha thought ; " it 
win be an anonymoos offcnng, and then — " 

The prcaent did not coma ; it hod not boon intended 
tar her. How fboliah eho had bean to auppoae that it 
waa I Julian waa in love with some other woman, a 
patty bonrgeoise, or a woman of tho demi-monde, — an 
■tti'iaa, perliapa. She could not aleep for two nighta ; 
•ad than, aaddenly, abe aaw the fan in Madam Thierry'a 
bnada, and broalbod again. 

In ^l« of beriolf, aba conld not help talking about 
JoUen with Madam Thierry, and ihera was no and to 
Iwr darieaa for Unlag the converaalion to this lubjoct. 
Sfca wnnlad to loan what aort of liA a young artist led ; 
•■d ■I'tmigfc Tory much alraid of bearing diaagraeablo 
•r pain&l details, asked qneations oontinnally. AlUr 
iaqniriag about Iba taatea and habits of artists in gmeral, 
Aa wotud rt&r saddanly to Jnlion. " Yoor son, fin- «x- 
tmfhf' akm said oaa dqri ia tba ooarao of soeh a ooBTtiw 

ANTON t A. Xa5 

BatioD, ** muBt Lavo led a very brilliant and dissipated life, 
— a veiy agreeable life, at all eyentSi — before bis iather'a 
death and your present trials/' 

*^ My son's character has always been serioas,'' replied 
Kadam Thierry, ** and I must say that young people of 
all classes seem to me very different at present from those 
whom I knew in my youtli . My poor husband had a fertile, 
brilliant, and graceful iinngination ; ho was one of those 

Krsons who fill life with unexpected pleasures ; far from 
ing ambitious, and eager in the pursuit of glory, his 
aim seemed to be the enjoyment of whatever is moat 
agreeable. Painting c/icZ-cTceuvres, was his amusement, 
and he allowed nothing to trouble him. The artists of 
the present day are impatient to excel their predecessors. 
They have invented criticism. M. Diderot, with whom 
my husband was very intimate, often taught him to 
appreciate his own works more highly than he would 
have dreamed of doing ; and, when my little Julien lis- 
tened to this remarkable man, devouring him with his 
great eyes beaming with attention and curiosity, M. 
Diderot used to say, ^ That child has the sacred fire.' 
But my husband did not want people to put too many 
ideas into his head. He believed that the beautiful ought 
to be deeply felt, and not too much studied. Was he right 
in this ? The imagination, he thought, ought to be adorned, 
and not oppressed. Julien was gentle and patient ;« 
he road and pondered a great deal. Ileal connoisseurs 
admire his painting more than that of his father, and 
when he speaks of art it is easy to see that he under- 
stands it thoroughly ; but he is not so' popular with 
people in general, and is very indifferent to society. 
His mind is full of a great many subjects, in which he 
is interested ; and when I say to him, ^ You do not 
laugh, you are not gay, you have not the recklessness 
that belongs to your age,' ho replies, *I am happy as I 
am. I really do not care for amusements, I have so 
many things to think abouU ' ^ 

These confidential conversations with Madam Thierry 
gradually enabled Madam d'Estrelle to understand Julien ; 
and the respect with which he had inspired her at first 

■i^t. changed to a fMliog of tonder timiditj, UuU mode 
htr lore him tha mora. It wu do longer poMiblo for 
Imt to ragftrd him M ad ioferior, aud jrot this young artist 
baloDgad to h cIom whom >be bod boon in tho habit of 
baving called (Aom people I In talking with her IVioods, 
dM lometuiiea tried to plead tho causo of the intelligent 
•ltd TirtwKis, whatever might be their rank. Her frienda 
irera aoffidenilj progreuire to reply, "You are pei^ 
finetly njgaX; birth is noUiiog, — it is merit alone that is 
'" Bat these were mere maxims, which it was 

Um iasbkHi for educated people to employ ; they meant 
oothing. Doctrines of equality had not yet begun to 
influence mamiera. The very name people who made 
these remarks, woald not hesitate, a moment afterwards, 
to blame rchemeatly a certain duke who bad given his 
band to a plebeian for the sake of patching up his estates 
with her dowry ; or some priucess, so captivated with an 
iosigoifioant fortunc-buoter. that, to the disgrace of all 
booest people, she had couscntod to marry him. Tlicy 
would allow a young girl, or a young widow, to fall in 
lore with a man of good family, oven although poor ; but, 
if be werenot well-bom, she was the victim of a shameful 
infatuation, — an immodest attraction ; she was sacrificing 
ber principles to her senses ; marriage was no justiQcation ; 
site fell into public contempt. Julie, who had olwoys been 
.treated with so much respect and consideration,— the only 
eoo^wDsatioQ of Iter melancholy youth, — shuddered wiih 
borrar when sbe heard her friends talking in this way j 
and if tlie object of her secret passion, at such moments, 
bad entered bor little circle, apparently so liboml aad pro* 
pessivo, she would have felt obliged to rise and say, 
** What do you want here, monsieur ? " 

But this little circle broke up at ten o'olook; and, 
tea minntea afterwards, Julie was in her garden. She 
gand i^on the little U^t in the pavilion, trembling like 

While poor Jnlie was going through all this agitation, 
Jalian was ecnparatiTely ealm. His intaBtiona yna% m 



sincere, so upright, that he reoorered hit moral health, 
and imagined that he had rcallj subdued his passion. 

<^No," he said to himself, **I did not deooiTe mj 
mother ; ** the feeling with which Madam d'Estrelle in* 
spires mo is that of friendship ; — a ^m intense, elevated, 
and exquisite friendship, and not, as I thought at first, a 
yiolent and fatal passion. Possibljr, indeed, I may hava 
had this fever in the beginning ; but it was dissipated on 
the Ycry day when I saw, face io face, this simple, good, 
confiding woman; on the very day 'when I heard ber 
sweet, pure voice, and comprehended thai she was an 
angel, to whom I am unworthy to aspire* I am not in 
love with her, in the ordinary sense of the word ; I lova 
her with my whole heart, that is all, and I will not allow 
my imagination to torment me. The grave has scarcely 
closed over my poor father ; every hour is occupied in 
laboring for my mother. No, no ; I have neither the 
right nor the time to abandon myself to an absorbing 

Marcel remarked Julien's tranquillity, and did not pay 
much attention to the agitation that Madam d'Estrelle 
sometimes betrayed. He called upon her ono day when 
she had just returned from another visit to her fathei^in* 
law, the marquis. He was considered out of danger, and 
Marcel hoped that ho would consent, before long, to assist 
his client more effectually. 

*^ Oh, fnon Ditu I you take a great deal of trouble 
about mc," said Julie ; ** but is it worth while? I assure 
you that I should really like to be poor ; probably I should 
not sulFcr from enuui so much as I do." 

*^ And yet you look very elegant, and are going, I sup* 
pose, to some great entertainment? " 

*^ No, I shall take my dress off*. I do not intend to go 
out. With whom can I go? I have quarrelled with 
Madam d'Anoourt, my old convent friend, and she was 
the only person whom I could visit alone in the ovening* 
I am not intimate enough with my other friends to go to 
> their houses without a chaperon. Madam des Merges, 
\ who might accompany me, is horribly lasy ; my cousin, . 
the wife of the president, is not received in the best so- 



cittf , sod tbfl MarchionoM d'Orb« ia in tha eonntrf . I un 
naUT laffcriiig &oni enoui, Uonsiour Thierrjr. I Rin too 
auen aloiM, aad then ftn ft gTMt nuay daf* wbon I b»T« 
not tfa« bevt to do snTthiog." 
^lis was the fint time that Julie had eomptaiiMd 

Marcel looked at her eameatlj, and reflected. 

** Ton ought to hare some aiauaemeDt,''-be said ; " why 
don't joa go to the theatre •ometimea?" 

** Z have no box ao/where. Toa know that I eaonot 
aifafd to keep ODe." 

" Why shoiild that prerent yon from going whererer 
joa dioaee? Keeping a box the year roaad u a sort of 
■laTOTT'. It makes yon eonspicuoos, and compels roa 
to have a daperon. We bourgeois allow onrselTSS little 
dlTenions at slight expense, and reqairing no inconre- 
aient display. This oreoing, for example, I am going 
ttr take my wife to the Comidie-Franeaue. We hare 
hired a doeed box on the gronnd-floor." 

"Oh, bow delightful to go there 1 Yon cannot be seen 
•t all, can yon? Yon can ODJoy the play, laagh and cry 
M much as yon choose, witlioot being criticised by the 
gallery. Hare yon a place for me, Monsionr Thiernr ? " 

** I hare two. I intended to offer one to my annt. 

**And the other to her son? Then — " 

" That makes no differeoce : he can go another time ; 
bot what will people think if they meet you in the lob* 
bies leaning npoo the arm of yonr lawyer? Or, if yon 
•re reoogniaed seated by the side of *T^■^"" Marcel 
lUvry, what will they say?" 

"Let tbem say what they choose. They will be rery 
foolish to see anything wrong in that." 

"I agree with yon, bnt people are rery foolish, and 
Ibey irill say that yon are in low company ; na^, more, I 
bare softened the word ont of respect for my wiA. They 
wQI say that yon are in bad eompaoy." 

" It is abominable, that poopw shonU be so fooli^ I 
Toot wifb is a rciy amiable woman, I hare been toid, 
■ad ts ran hi^y tbonghl of. I will call upon her to- 
MOROw* fa I ninr that il wo«ld dM be polita to go to 


her box without ceremooj, and without asking hor par- 
miMioD beforehaDd. Yet, I moBt make her acquaint- 
aoco ; and then, some time, we will go to the theatre to* 

Marcel smiled, for ho aodorstood perfectlj well the 
fecliog of cowardice that had taken possession of hia 
noble clicot at the idea of being accused of associating 
with bad company. She considered the opinion of the 
world cruel, unjust, insolent and absurd ; but she was 
afraid of it, nevertheless, and foar does not reason. 

'* You are perfectly right," Marcel replied. ** I recog- 
nize your delicacy and good' heart in all that yon say. 
My wife will thank you for your kind intentions, and, 
from this evening, will be flattered to offer yon her box ; 
but take my advice, countess, and do not leave your own 
circle, cither this evening, or to-morrow, or at any time ; 
at all events, unless you have some very good reason, 
well considered and well matured, for doing so. Eat if 
you are hungry, but do not force yourself to cat to grat- 
ify a caprice. The world to which you belong wishes to 
be exclusive, and you ought not to defy it, unless to 
obtain some CTcat personal advantage, or to do a very 
good deed. ' No one will believe that you are unconven- 
tional merely for the sake of being so. People will be 
surprised, at first, and then they will seek serious and 
hidden motives to account for your simplest act.'' 

''And what will tlicy find?" said Julie, anxiously. 

'' Nothing," replied Marcel, '* consequently they will 
invent some story ; and gossip of that kind is always 

'* It follows, then, that I must be condemned to soli- 

*' You have accepted it courageously, hitherto, and yon 
know that it will cease whenever you choose." 

'^ Yes, if I choose to marry ; but where will I find a 
husband combining all the qualities required by the world 
and by myself? Think for a moment I According to-yon 
he must be rich, according to my friends noble, and, to 
please me, he must be amiable and lovable. I shall 
never find such a man, and I would do better—** 



Julia darad not finish her sentence, end Moroel thought 
1m had no right to question her. There was a pause, 
which both found awkward; Julie interrupted it, bj 
exdaimfaigf niddenlyf — 

**Ah I men IKeu, dt> not ima^ne that I am tempted to 
ibrgot my principles, and enter into a frivolous liason I I 
meant,— I may as well say it, — that I should do better 
lo seek happiness in an obscure marriage.'' 

^ It depends upon what you mean by obscure I" said 
HareeL **You ought to msistupon a fortune, at all 
•rents; finr if jou giro rank the go-by, there is no 
sort of doubt that the family d'Estrelle will abandon 


^ If the husband of your choice is poor, and you bring 
Urn a dowxy of debts — '^ 

** Oh, vos, you are right I I should add to his poY* 
vtf all the anxiety, all the dangers, by which I am tor- 
mented. I did not think of that. Sec how heedless I 
am I Oh, Monsieur Thierry, there are some days when 
I long to be dead 1 You are wrong not to take me to the 
theatre ; I feci gloomy this erening, and should like to 
forget that I exiiU" 

** Is it so bad as that?" replied Marcel, earnestly, 
alarmed 9X her distressed expression. ** Very well, then, 
— ^put on a thick black hood, and a largo black man- 
tle. There is a carriage at the door, — we will take it, 
and call for my wife ; I will explain the circumstances to 
her in a few words, and we will go and hoar PdyeucU. 
That will change the current of your ideas. Be quick I 
for if Tisiturs arrive, you will not be able to go." 

Julie jumped for joy, like a child* She soon mufilod 
herself up, gave her servants their liberty for the evening, 
and started with MarceL Divided between fear and de- 
licht, she was as much excited as if this little escapade 
inOk a lawyer and his wife had been an alarming adven- 

^ And Madam Thieny 7 ** she said, when they were on 

^ha wav 

•*W«wffl Imv* Mmiim TUttrj -mbm tU it," nid 

I- m~*.»rmt^ 


Marcol ; ** I havo mdI her no iiiTitatioo, mud we ilumU bt 
kept waiting while she WAt droning. Bctidesi if Yon are 
rocognizod in spite of our procautiont , I prefer that yoa 
should not he seen with a lodj who has a grown-up son, 
—a jouog manf hj the way, of whom anelo Antonie was 
very jealous. My son is a little rascali scarcely twelre 
years old ; wo will take him, and that wiU complet o tho 
party, —hourgooiso and pottioidisU*'* '" '^ "' » » ' * -^ ' 

Thoy stopped at Marcel's house. Leaving Julie shut 
up alone in the carriage, he hurried in, and soon rotnmod 
with his wife and son. Madam Marcel Thierry was a 
good deal intimidated, but she was too intelligent to at- 
tempt paying compliments; and, after a moment, ftlt 
perfectly at case with the amiable Julie, who, finr her 
part, thought her good and sensible. They got out of 
tho carriage a little in advance of the file, walked to the 
theatre, entered it without meeting curious or impertinent 
loungers, and wore soon installed in a dark box, where 
Madum Thierry and her son took the front seats, so as to 
shield Madam d'EstroUo and the la^vyor. They listened 
to tho tragedy with the greatest delight. Julie had never 
enjoyed herself so much at the theatre. She felt pei^ 
fcctly free, and this hourgooiso family interested her. 
She regarded them with curiosity^ as tho representatives 
of a class that she know nothing about ; and, although 
thoy wore a little restrained by her presence, husband, 
wife, and child addressed each other with a tender fa- 
miliarity that touched her heart. In the most interesting 
scones in the play, Madam Thierry would turn to her hot* 
band, and say, in a low voico, — 

*' Dost thou see well, my dear? Is not my bonnet in 
thy way?" 

*• No, no, my child," the lawyer would reply, •• don't 
trouble thyself about me. Take care of thyself." 

The child applauded when ho saw the pit applaud. 
He would clap his little hands in an important manner, 
and then suddenly would loan his head upon his mother*s 
shoulder, and kiss her. That meant that he was einoying 
himself ver^ much, and thanked her for bringing mm. 

These smiple manners, characteristie of the middk 


dasteSf — tbb teodor Aee and <Aott, — these carcssiog 
epithets, at the same time so familiar and so sacred, — 
sometimes made Julie feel like laughing, and then again 
moved her so deeply as to bring tears to her cjres. Anj- 
thtngof the kind would have been reputed bad stjle in her 
circle ; this was the waj in which common people lived 
and talked. In Madam d'Estrelle's drawing-room, Mar- 
eel assumed skilfully the language and bearing of a man 
of the world acquainted with all classes of society. In his 
lioosehold he thj^w off this formal manner, and, without 
ever being gross, adopted the familiar tone that is natural 
between intimate friends. Julio, therefore, surprised him 
forgetful of his ceremonious bearing, — living to please 
himself in a moment of cheerful ease and relaxation. At 
first, she was both shocked and charmed ; but soon she 
said to herself that these people were right ; that it would 
be better for all husbands and wives to call each other ihte 
and thou^ for all children to lean upon their mothers, and 
all n>ectators to show an interest in the play. In aristo- 
cratio circles, people said you; thoy had no tender, heart- 
felt epithets,—- thoy refined away the meaning of every 
sentiment. Elegance was the first consideration in lan- 
guage, dignity in deportment. The heart could find 
expression only accordmg to rule ; it was obliged to hide 
its impulses, or clothe them in an affected and symbolical 
style, thai had given birth to the madrigal. Admiration 
for genins was never allowed to rise to enthusiasm. They 
aajoY^df appreciated ; their words were all carefully meas- 
wncL Finally, they made it a rule never to be betrayed 
into showing any emotion ; and, in this perpetual simper 
of aristoeratie grace, became so charming, that they al- 
most ceased to be human. 

Madam d*EsU^le now, for the first time, noticed these 
tlibgs, and thought about them seriously. The little 
Jolio, —as he was called to distinguish him from Julien, 
his godiather,— had an interesting face. He was a com- 
ical little feUow, with a well-formed head, tomed-upnose, 
brilliaat ereSf saicastio mouth, and the cool, impudent 
mamier of a schooM>oj making the most of his vacation. 
Sveo if he had been disgnised like a ffrani mfnimr% it 


would have been impoBsible to oonfoand him with U&e 
genuine little nobles of the day, — so Teij prettj, pofita, 
and polished, that it was almost impossible to tell themi 
apart. Julio, no less tlian themselves, had the at jlo of 
his class, but this did not deprive him of his piqoaoqr* 
Each person in the middle class mnst live for himself^ 
and make his own way according to the qualities that ho 
possesses, and hence the bourgeois genius does not sook 
to elTuce individuality. The child had a bright mind, 
and his eager curiosity betrayed his Parisian descent. 
He was at the same time inquiring and afibetiooate, 
discemiog and credulous. To keep him from getting 
hold of Madam d'Estrello's name, which he might hnve 
repeated in his father's oiBce, his parents had told him 
that she was a client who had recently arrived in Puis, 
and that this was the first time that she had seen a play. 
Julie amused herself by asking him questions ; and, hie- 
twcen the acts, the little fellow did the honors of the eap* 
itul and the theatre. lie showed her the king's box, the 
pit, and chandelier; and even explained the play, and told 
her about the relative importance of the characters, 

^^ You are going to see a very beautiful piece,'' he said, 
before the curtain rose ; '^ you will not understand it very 
well, perhaps, because it is in verse. I read it with my 
godfather Julien ; he likes it very much, and he explained 
it all to me, just as if it had been in prose. If there is 
anything you do not understand, mademoiselle, you most 
ask me." {r 

'^ You are chattering like a magpie,'' said his mother; 
*' do you suppose madam does not understand the great 
Comcille better than you do?" 

*^ Maybe she does ; but perhaps she is not so learned- 
as my godfather/' 

** Madam does not care about the learning of yoor god* 
father I You imagine that every one knows him." 

*^ If you don't know him," said Julio, turning to Madam 
d'Estrelle, ** I will show him to you. There he is. eloee 

** What I " said Marcel, feeling very much annoyed | 
**ishohere7 Doyoasee him?" 


**T6t, I have seen him this good while. Ho lores 
PolTOQCte ever so mach I He's seen it played moro than 
tea times, Tm sure. Thero he is, id the pit, throe 
beiidies off. His back is turned, but I knew him right 
off; he has got on his black coat, and opera hat.*' 
' Usdam d*£strelle's heart beat violently. She looked 
at the bench to which the child pointed, but recognixed 
no one. Marcel did the same, with a like result. Julio 
was mistaken ; the person whom, he had thought to be 
Jnlien turned, and.prored to be a strauger. He was in 
the theatre, however^ in the second gallery, just above 
Uaresl's box, and far enough from imagining that,' by. 
descending to the ground-floor, he might have seen 
Madsm d'Estrelle. But, even if he had known this, he 
wooU have repiained in his place. His resolution no 
longer to seek chance interviews with the countess was 
sot to be shaken. 

As an artist, he had his entrances to the Comidie-Fran* 
caise. He listened intently to Polyeucte, as a devout person 
listens to a sermon, and went out before it was concluded, 
because he was afraid that his mother would sit up for 
him. In crossing the vestibule, he was very much sur- 
prised to meet uncle Aotoine face to face. It was uncle 
Antoine's invariable habit to go to bed at eight o'clock, 
and probably he had never l^fore entered a theatre. 
Jnlien greeted him cordially ; it was the best way, even 
if he was repulsed. 

** Yon have returned, then,** he said ; ** we have been 
Tsry anxious about yon.** 

** Who do you mean by we?^ replied Antome, in a 
■larly tone. 

•* Marcel and L'' 

** You are venr good. Yon thought, I suppose, that I 
iMid gone to the Indies, you seem so surprised to see me.'' 
• ** I acknowledge that I did not expect to meet you here.'* 

^It was just the contrary with me; I was perfectly 
tors that I should meet yon here." 

This reply was quite enigmatical to Jnlien, and, with* 
out ooodesoending to explain it| nnde Antoine turned 
Ida back npoo him. 

ANTOmA. X35 

"IliBUMlcM to talk," thought Jnliw, "hianind is 
Hriotuljr afibctod." 

IIo pnucd on, but raturood sorcrol timos to mo whother 
tbo horticulturist wu golag out or coming lo, ftnd judge 
whctlicr ho really knuw whoro be wu, Uude Antoine 
remftincd ilaDdiDg at tho foot of the ttiurcue, uid 
stared at himwith e mocking BXprenioa, bat gave no 
othor sigD of fronsj. . 

A fow EoomoDta oiUrwerds, ho wai lost in the crowd 
filling tiio vestibule. Odo of tho lint groups that he saw 
woa Iho familj of tlio lawyer, with an uaknowa ledy, 
taller than Madam d'Estrello, and completely enveloped 
in ft black hood. Undo Anloioe followed them to the 
street, took the number of their carriage, end seut ia par- 
suit of it tho adroit and skilful spy who hod iaformed 
him that Madam d'Kstrelle was going out with her law* 
ycr, and who, in all manner of disguises, and under all 
sorts of pretexts, had been spying about, and •ometimee 
' within, the hotel d'Estrolle for tho last month. 

In those days theatres closed at en early hour, eo t» 
to allow time for supper after the play. Julie, ofler re* 
conducting Uodam Marcel to tbo street des Petiti Augut- 
tins, arrircd at her house at about ten o'clock. Marcel, 
who had escorted her, was going away witliout onloriug, 
' when she recalled him. Ucr porter had just informed 
her of an important piece of news: the ohl marquis, 
her father-in-law, hod diod at eight o'clock that OToning, 
just ns they ioukginod that he ivas cured. They hod 
sent for Julio, so tliat she might bo present when ho piu^ 
look of the BOcramonts. Her absence, which it would bo 
difficult to account for, on account of tlie peculiar position 
that she hod herself explained to Horoel, might hare the 
most fatal consequences. 

"Ah, that is what mode me feel so I " said Moreol 
onzioudy, and in a low voice, as they stood together upon 
the groat front stops. " I tohl you not to go. I felt a. 
presentiment of some danger; but there is no tuo in 
lamontiug over what cannot be helped. The most alarm- 
ing thing is tho suddon deotli of the old man. Come, 
nodeia, 70a miUt moke haste to ■bow Tonnelf at Ua 


bed-ddtt. G«t Into the carriage again, and I will ac* 
corapaoryoa to jroar mother-in-law's house, I will not 
go in, lor it wonld not do for 70a to make this visit of 
condolence escorted b^ jma lawyer. To-morrow, I will 
-Uka the field in jronr behalf, nnd wo will learn the con- 
tants of lh« will, if, as Ood grant, (here is a will." 

Julie, rerj much agitated, got into the carriage. 

"Stop n moment," said Marcel, " I cannot wait for 

ra at Um dowager's door ; lier people would see me, and 
bare an idea that tboj tell their mistress ererjrtliing. 
Ton will hare to drop mo before drivicg into the court ; 
and, as I should not liko 10 ham jrou return alone in this 
cab, jroa had better order Tonr serranti to bav* jronr ear- 
cii^ got ready and sent after jroa." 

" You think of aTerTthiDg," said Julie ; " I don't know 
what would become of mo without yon." 

She gave directions, and they started. 

" You must remember another thing," said Marcel, 
while iher were driving; "you will not find tho widow 
in tears, but at her prayers ; do not be reassured as to ■ 
bar state of mind by this apparent sanctity. Be sure that 
•be boa taken note of your absence, and will be prepared 
to subject you to an examination in tho very midst of her 
orisons. Do not forget that she hates yon, and, as an 
axcose for robbing yon, would like nothing so well as to 
And yon out in a fault."' 

Julio wondered bow she oould beet explain her inbt^ 
ecnt adventore. 

"You will find nothing better to say than the tmtfa," 
•aid Marcel ; " toll her that yon wera at my house." 

" If that were all ; — but the play I In the ayes of my 
Bo(beMO-law, going to the theatre is « friglitful sin \ she 
would consider it so, whoever had accompanied mo." 

*' Don't refer to it, then ; say that my wife was sick, 
—that you feel a friendship for my wile, — because, — 
beeaose she has done you some service, — because she is 
vliaritable, and helps you in dobg good. Burnish it op 
with a little vamish of devotion; who will blame yon?" 

Tbay arrived at tbeir destination. Marcel stopped 
the euriaga, jomped oat, and Julia drovo into lb* ooort 



or tbo hole! d'Onnonde, rn« dc Gnnelle-SuDt-Gsmuua. 
Tliifl hotel woa the propertjr of the Donger d'Ormondo ; 
BiDCo her second Boarrikga with the Uarqaia d'BBtralle, 
tho nmrquia had lired with her io the house of h«r fint 

The downgcr wu vciy rich, a&d hor honae bod a 
statcl/t hut forbidding nod formal upoct ; ah« had few 
servants, nod mode but litlla displaj ; all was splendid, 
cold, and lifeless. The hotel consisted of a number of 
buildiogs, tho principal one of wliicb, contoiniDg the apart- 
ments occupied b/ tho marchioness, stood in an isner 
court, enclosed by a grnting. At this grating Julio was 
obliged to slop and ring, but, sure of being admitted, 
and knowing that Marcel would hare to return on foot, 
unless ahc sent tiio carriage after him without delay, alia 
dismissed tlio coacltmao as soon as she saw ■ome ono 
prcpariug to open the door. 

Instead of admitting Iior, the porter entered into a 
strange discussion. The marquis could not soo any ono, 
ho said, because he was dead. The priests hod como 
to odminislor the sacramonts, and the marchioness was 
shut up with him and tho deceased. Sho could giro 
audience to nobody at such a lime. Julie insisted ia 
vain tliat she liad, as a near relative, a right to outer. 
Tlio porter, cither intentionally or from forgelfulooas, left 
hor stauding outside tiie door, and went to inquire. Ro 
turning, he informed her that modamo bad giron strict 
orders that she was not to bo disturbed. 

As theso negotiations Lad lasted for sonM> lime, tbo 
Countess d'BIstrello felt no sort bf doubt that the mai^ 
chionoss had been communicated with, and had refused 
to receive her. She had fulfilled her duty, and had noth* 
ing further to urge. Her carriage ought naturally to haro 
como a great deal faster than the cab ; thinking that it 
must bare anired, she retraced her steps, crused the 
first court, and went oat at the street-door, which was 
kept by tho wifo of the porter, who immediately, with 
rode haste, shat it after her. Theia was really a earrioga 
io the street, but, in spite of her short-aightedaoM, Jabe 
■aw at once that it was only « cab. 

SoppouDg that the ffffflu"" had not nadentood h«r 
ordtr, or that Uarral had aent him back as a precaution, 
aha imagioed that this.wM tba rorjr carriago In which 
aba bad ooow, and eallod th« driver, who had falleo - 
fut aaleep npon hia seat. It was impossiblo to whIm 
him witbont paUing the flap oMtis cloak. Those who 
nmember what cabHlnTOrs were fort/ jrears ago, can 
jodga what they were tarty yean earlier. This one 
was ao dirtr, that Jnlie hesitated to touch him with her 
B^ed band. She held up with care horample silk skirts, 
so that they might not nib agiuoat the muddy wheels. 
NoTor bad abe bean in such an embarrassiog position t 
Sba was frightened at being olooe in the open street at 
near midnight. The few poople who passed, stopped and 
star*d at bw, and she trembled lest, out of kindoess or 
, thoy would offer to como to her assistance. 

finally the coachman woke up ; and stated, in reply 
lo her questions, that he did not know her, that ho had . 
broagbt two priests of the parish lo admister to a ijiag 
man, and bad been ordered to wait for ihom. He would 
not mora for any consideration. Julie looked around 
anxionsly. Her carriase did not arrive. She lifted the 
heavy knocker of the door, so as to return to tlie court 
of tba hotel, but knocked in rain. Either special orders 
bad bean given aboat her, or the porter was always in- 
flaxibla ; at all erents he did not opoo the door. 

She boeamo exoossivoly alormod. The idea of going 
ftwayaloDO, and on foot, was not to bo thought of ; to ro* 
naio standing before this door was equally impossible, 
Tbora was not a single storo in sight ; and, provided that 
it was not in the street, she wonld have to wait for her 
caniage, it mattered not where. The dependences of 
tba hotel d*Onaonde extended quite a distance to the 
right and left. An abbey was upon one side, and upoa 
titf otiter was the eonrant of the Visitation. There, per* 
b^a, aba might have obtained shelter, bat it was quite a 
liiiiaifrt offi and, after walking ten minutea, at least, to 
gat to it) aha woold bare bad to enter into a discussion 
bafora being admitlird, Oppoaiu the hotel d'Oraonda, 
than wna • tall gntbig, aaoloaing an alley nidwi^ ba> 



tTrMQ the hotel do PaiuoBX, Aod ihs hotel d'Eatriu. 
Thinkiag ibat sho might persiude the keeper of ihia gnt- 
iog to let her wait in his room, \>j giriag him a loais, ah* 
crossed the street ; bat, when npoa the poiot of ringing, 
noticed ihat there was neither a keeper nor a boU. It 
was a priyate gate, nsed onlj hj ih« owners of the two 
enclosures. Julie lost courage \ and whea, just at this 
moment, a man appeared snddenlj bj her side, at if be 
had risen from Hie earth, she waa w frightened that she 
came T0T7 near Minting. As soon as bo named hiniMlf, 
bowerer, she uttered on exclamation of J07 : it was Jo- 
lien. Sho ezphiined h«r mishaps in a few omtfasod 
words, which Julion, as ho was alreadr partly aoquaioled 
with the facts, and had not come to this place hj "bfiwii, 
understood without difiicultj. 

** It is useless for jrou to wait here £>r yoor carriag*," 
ho said ; " it will proboblj be some time before it ar> 

" How do you know 7 " 

" I went this OTeoing to Iho ComMio-Fraocaise." 

" Did yoD see mo there i 

" Were you there, madam? I did not know it," 

"Then — " 

" That enables me to explain my meeUog with H. 
Antoine Thierry, and his remarks. He, wiihont doubt, 
know that you were to bo there, and was playing the spy. 
lie mode an ironical obsarvation, which, alihougb I did 
not uodorstand il, gOTo mo food for roflcction. In return- 
ing to tho pavilion, I fult a little uneasy, and stopped 
before your hotel. Your people wore in great excilfr 
menu It seems that the coachman could not be found. 
The porter knows me by sight, and seeing that he was in 
trouble, I went up to hiin, and inquirod whether yon had 
met with any accident. Ileinformod moof thedeathoftho 
Marquis d'EatreUe, and of the fact that yon had boea 
escorted hero by my cousin Marcel. The coachman, tn 
tho meanwhile, amvod, dead drunk, and utterly incnp* 
able of undorstandiag your orders. Tho porter left mo, 
saying that Bastisn would go all right, when oooe upon 
his seat. 'Sat being so phlegmatio u yoor pocUr, I 

140 AHTONU. 

hartmed to follow jou. H7 hopo wu to find Blareel 
■tOl ben, KoA. wun bim not to leaTo job aloae with a 
drnnkM) coftdiiaaD, but I wu % few minutei too Ule. 
Too were mil/ »loae, and hkTfl boon reiy mach frigbt> 

** It ii orer," laid JtiUe. "I un ealm now. Tuke 
BM bftdi on fi>oL Praridencv hu eent yon to be mj 

"Itiiloo fkrtogo on foot," replied Jnlien, "and 
jvoor ebOM are not suitable for walking. The cab yon- 
der shall carrj jron, with or without tbo eonient of th« 
eoachnMD : I answer for that. I will ride on lh« onl- 
■ida, and will rocondnct 700 in safety." 

Joliea lod Madam d'Estrello to the carriage, pnt her 
into it, and ordered the coachman to drive on. Ue re- 
fused. Jnliea jumped upon the aoat by hid side, toolc 
tbe reins, and swore that he would throw him into the 
rirer if he oSerad any resistance. Tbo noble bearing 
and dolermined air of the young man frightened hjm ho, 
that bo submitt«d ; but, before they bad gone . a hundred 
rods, he stopped, and began shonting, " llobbory I Mur- 
der I " A group of men wera coming from a house, and 
tbe poor dovil hoped that they would como to his assist* 
kooe, and enable him to resist Julion's violent assault. 

Chance decrood that these persons wore fashionable 
young men, just coming from a late supper, and a good 
deal intoxicated. It was (»ie of those momonta of oxciie- 
nent when people aro very ready to bocome the redrcsv 
on of wrongs, especially if tbey aro four to one. Thoy 

ridily stopped tbo horses, and one of them tried to open 
eairiago door i for the malidons eoachman cried at 
the top of his voice, — 
'* Help I belp I A villain numing away with a nun I " 
'*Let OS MO whether she is worth tbe tronblol" cried 
tbo gronp, with one voice* 

Beforo tbey oonU get the door open, Jnlien was upon 
Us Cset, and bad repulsed tbe forenost of these inquisitive 
gallants in an onergetio maoiter. Th« young man so 
roog^ baodled bmn to iasak bim, and drew his tword ; 
Ut conipaaiOM feUowwd bit iMapla. Jnliaa had -no 

ANTON/A. 141 

timo to draw his sword. IIo defended himself with his 
cttuo, ftnd used it witli so much coolness, vigor and address, 
tlint one of his oppoocnts fell, and tho othors draw back. 
Jiih'oo, who had not left the carriage steps, took advan* 
tugo of this fortunate respite to jump in and lift Jolit 
■ \ out bj the opposite door. After carrying her some dis- 
. i tance in his arms, he stopped, and turned to wait for his 
adversaries ; but, either seriously wounded, or sobered by 
the approach of tlio watch, they were hurrying rapid^ 
away in tho opposite direction. 

*' Walk quickly, madam," said Julien to Madam d*Et- 
trelle ; ** lot us avoid the curiosity of the police.** 

Julie walked quickly and well. Fear had paralysed 
her for a moment, but the sight of the danger to whidi 
her protector was exposed, restored her energy. After 
making several turns to mislead the police, they came out 
in safety upon the new street, now called tlie boulevard 
dcs Invalids. It was scarcely built up at all, and, at this 
hour, was completely deserted. Julie had not noticed a 
stain upon her gloved hand, but she felt the moisture of 
the blood upon her wrist, and pausing, cried, — - 

** Ah 1 mon Dieti^ you are wounded 1 '* 

Julien had not felt anything, and was sure that he was 
not seriously hurt. He tied up his wounded hand in a 
handkerchief, and oiTcred Julie his other arm. 

** I assure you that it is nothing," he said ; **and what 
if it were? Unluckily, my opponents were not very 
formidable, and I dcsen'o but little credit for driving 
them off. Handsome dandies I PciiU^naUru / And 
yet these ore tlie people who constitute our nobility.** 

**Do you despise the nobility so mucli?'* 

** I do not despise them, but I hate impertinence ; ond 
OS nobles are not always ready to fight duels with plebei- 
ans, I am very glad to have thrash<^ them as a plough- 
boy would have done.** 

^* Alas I *' said Julie, thinking aloud, ** and yet these 
people have the power to insult and to oppress the 

'«The feeble I Who do you mean by the feeble?*' re- 
plied Juliea, misnuderstanding her. ** The man without 


a titk? UndeceiTe jounelf, madam ; it is to this man 
that the ibtim belongs, for he has npon his side right, 
real jostioe, and the determination to orerthrow the 
abuses of the past.** 

Jnlie did not understand him, and began once more to 
tremble ; not because she was sUll afraid of meeting their 
enemies, but at the mjstorious power that seemed to bor 
to emanate from Julien. She gased upon him stealthily, 
and thoo|;ht his countenance shone m the moonlight. 
8be imagmed that &er feeble hand was resting upon the 
arm of a giant. 

And jet Julien*s nature was perfectly simple ; a thor- 
oo^ artist, he was not at all ambitious, as far as he was 
eooeemed, of a public career. Dedicated to art, pro- 
posing to devote hb life to the study of nature, ho did not 
' feel calhsd upon to play a ilory part in rovoliitionary tem- 
pests. The terrible powcr.with which ho was clothed in 
Julie's eyes, was only the reflection of tlie divine power 
descending upon the new cUut ; — the class to which ho 
belonged. He was one of the hundred thousand among 
the millions of crushed and disappointed men, who were 
soon to say, ** The measure is full, — the post has had its 
day.^ The state of feeling to which he had referred was 
almost universal, and allusions to it were constantly being 
made; but Madam d'Estrelle did not know this, and 
imagined that she had listened to a momentous pro- 
phecy, uttered by an exceptional man. This was the first 
tame she had ever heard opinions and customs that* she 
regarded . as invincible, braved and despised. A feel- 
ing of ardent confidence mingled with the superstitious 
terror that she experienced ; a desire to lean so much the 
more upon this vigorous arm, which* animated bv a 
noble heart, had just defended her, singly, against four 

^ You think, then,** she said, continuing to walk rap- 
idly, *«that it is possible to shake off the yoke of this 
uiynst world which oppresses conseienoes and condemns 
ideas? . I wish I could believe so.** 
*^ You do, sinoe you wish to believe it.**!^ 
^ Fsrhaps ; but iriiea will this state of freedom begm 7 "^ 


**No ODO knows how or when; wo only know thai 
jastiee must finally prevail. The present state of thinga 
may last fifYy, or it may last a hundred years longer. 
Why sliould you caro, madam? You are ono of th ose 
who profit innocently by the misfortunes of others.** 

**No iudcod; I have no advantages at alL I havo 
nothing of my own, and am nothing in the -world/' . 

*^ But you are of the world,— yon belong to it ; at is 
bound to protect you, and would never wound you per- 

•• Who knows? '* said Julio. 

Fearing that she had said too much, she reverted to 
their late adventure, to change the subject : 

*« It frightens me to think,"* she said, ** that a great 
misfortune might have occurred I Ah, your poor mother I 
how »ho would have cursed mo, if I had occasioned — " 

*^ No, madam, that could not have happened," replied 
Julion ; '^ I had the right on my side.'' 

«« Do you believe, then, that Providence interferea in 
such cases ? " 

^* Yes, since Providence is within us. It gives stiwngtli 
and presence of mind. A man who is defendlnff the 
honor of a woman against villains has every chance m his 
favor. It is easy for him to bo courageous ; he feels that 
he cannot yield." 

**IIow much faith you have," said Julie, deeply moved. 
^^ Yes, I remember, you told me when you were at my 
house, the other day^ that faith removes mountains, and 
that you were faith in person." 

" The other day I " replied Julien, simply, ** why it 
was more than a month ago 1 " 

Julio dared not acknowledge that she did not know how 
many days and nights had succeeded that brief interview. 
bho was silent. Julien was so respectful that he would 
not resume the conversation of his own accord, and the 
longer it lasted the less capable she felt of breiaking it, 
without betraying her emotion. Finally they reached tha 

«« Do you not think," he said, ** that I ought to leavm 
you here, so that I may not be seen by your people? 

144 ANTOniA. 

I wiD foDow at a distonoe, until 70a are safe within the 
door of year hotel.** 

^ Tee,** she said, «* bat what will my people think to 
•ee me retorn alone, and on foot, at such an hour? Stay, 
—.1 had better go through the pavilion into my garden ; 
thqr will imagine that M. Ifaroel escorted me.** 

Li fact, that was the best way. Jnlien had his kej, 
and opened the door. 

'* I will wake mj mother,** he said, ** and she will get 
op and receive you ; in passing just now, I told her not 
to wait for me. She imagines that I have gone to take 
■upper with MarceL** 

** Do not disturb her, I will not allow it I It would 
take too long to tell her about our adventures to-night ; 
and, half awake, she would feel alarmed. You can tell 
her all to>morrow. Open the garden door for mo, and I 
will escape in silence. Thanks, and adieu I " 

The/ entered the pavilion; the narrow hall loading 
from the street-door to that of the garden, which tliey had 
to cross, was perfectly dark. In this poor estublishment 
thev could not afford to keep a lamp bumiug uselessly, 
and Babel was only a day-servant, and did not sleep in 
the house. Julion went first ; he opened the door promptly, 
bowed deeply to Madam d'Estrelle, and immediately shut 
it, so as to show her pUiuly that ho never crossed the 
threshold ; he did not preteod to follow her, even with his 
fjtB^ as she glided along the walk like a shadow. 

80 much discretion, such perfect respect, devotion 
so delicate, so watchful, so active, and really efficacious, . 
touched Madam d'Estrelle deeply. It was a magnificent 
June night. ^ Her bed-room was upon the grouud-fioor, 
overlooking the garden, and she knew that she could 
arouse Camille, who was sitting up for her, by tapping 
at the window. But she knew, also, that Camille s sit* 
ting up meant taking a good nap on the best sofa in the 
room, and she thought she could leave her, without 
inhumanity, to watcu in this way for a' few minutes 
kMiger. Her heart was full of emotion, — delieious 
drsams floated through her mind ; she could not resist 
the desire of sitting down iipoo the edge of the little lake, 



■o clear sod motionleu, id irbieb Um moon vu radaeted 
ns in iho mirror of Venus. 

Tho song of lUo niglitiogalo wu hnshed; ho wm 
asleep OTor his young brood, Tho silonco was proToDiid ; 
. ovcD Iho ccpliyr (tho brcczo of tboso daj-s) wu w 
dcliclously drowty, thnt it did not alir a bkulo of gnus. 
Pnris was aslcop also, at least id tho peaceful quarter, tho 
oxtromity of which was marked \fj tho hotel d'Eotrello. 
Vou were mora likely (o hear sounds peculiar fo tha 
country than to tho city io this region ; at so late an hoar, 
they wcro coDflncd to the occasional crowing of n cock and 
the barkios of a dog, at long intcnals. Tlio chimos rang 
out the hour of tho night, their swoct, silver roices echoing 
each other from coDvcnt to convent ; then ecatotio ailenca 
reigned again. If tho disiaQt rolling of some vehicle rat- 
tling over Iho pavement of tho busy quarter of Paris 
became faintly audible, it sounded rather like the loir 
murmurio" of a wave, than a noieo produced by human 

Julio, fatigued, and a little bewildered, inhaled with 
delight tho calmness of tho night, tlio perfume of this sol- 
itude. She tnnicd licr eyes upon a great whito alar 
suspended in tlie lieaTcns, not far from tho moon, and 
reUcctod in the same wave. For a time she thought of 
nothing, remembered nothing,— she merely rested. But 
suddenly she was seized with a violent palpitation of tho 
heart ; it seemed to her oppressively hot, and (hen too 
cold. She arose to go in, and went to the window of hor 
bed-room, but did not knock. Botuming to tho atosa 
bench, she sot down, and began to weep. Rising again, 
she walked around the little lake, like a soul in pain, and 
then paused, smiling, like a soul in bliss. She consoDlcd to 
(juestion herself; and when her heart replied, " I lovo him," 
^0 was terrified, and would not allow it to speak. Then 
sho asked her consoience what was the meaning of thia 
terror, — this savage austerity, contrary to nature, naoloM 
to God, which she constantly displayed. Her consdeDoe 
replied that it had nothing to do with this stato of mind \ 
that it arooe, not from a sense of duty, but from prM> 
A»e^— ft sort of fletitiooa oonacMaee that obligod naton 

146 . ANTOSIA. 

waA God to yield to coDTOitioiial ideu, — fear, calcok- 
tioD, tha coiuideratioD of personal iolerests improperlj 
nodentood. Accordiog to this wny of reasoniag, erery- 
thiDg was measured bj Bix-franc piocoa. Blarccl bad 
proved it to ber. Julio had no right to love, because eho 
Dad Dot ooongh six-frano pieces. Was Marcel right? 
Mtut ber tool be 8acri6ced to tho grossest of all facts, — 
to tho implacable menace of misery? 

" No," said Julie, " it shall not be I I will sell all that 
X posiBSB) own Dothing, be poor, work,— beg, if necessary, 
bat I will love. Besides, he will take care of me, b« 
who already bo teoderiy cares for his mother. If he 
lores me, ho wilt accept the additional burdeo that I will 
be to him, and ^ecapt it with joy. In his place, I would 
do as much." 

Tormented by a strange agony, she began to walk to 
and fro. 

* " Does ho love me well enough to devote himself to 
* me," she said, *< with the passion that I thought lie be- 
trayed at our first meeting? Ahl I am continnally ask- 
ing myself that quoslioD, and it torments me in vain ; 
neither my conscience, my reason, nor my heart can re- 
ply. Ho may regard mo merely with a feeling of friend- 
ship. Ho \% a good son, and respects mo because I was 
anxious to assist his mother. Ho is grateful, and proves 
his gratitude by an admirable devotion. What more? 
Why ahould I believe that be loves me madly, and longs 
to pass bis life at my feet? It cannot bo that he foobi 
this longing, sine* ho never seeks me except when I am 
in need of his assistance. At other times bo is absorbed 
by Active duties ; he devotes himself to his mother, bis 
art, perhaps to some yonng girl of his own class, whoso 
dowry, whan he marries her, will make bim well off, 
while I, — involved in debt, — but am I so? ^rhnt if 
my hosband's father has given me a fortune? How 
changed my life will be 1 In that case, shall X forget this 
yonng man so beneath me in position? Shall I marry a 
man of rank, whoae aUiaoee will bring me honor and 
distiDdioa? Neverl At present, it la hewbomi love, 
•ad, ba aloBS t no kager an nnknown idaaL I kn« Um 

AJfTONTA. 147 

ftodldoDot knowwhelhorlcoa ever cbuiget— caaewr 
forget. I fear not, since I have tried in vain to eonqner 
mj heart ; siaco I am vooquished, when I forbid m^alf 
to feel. My God, my God, lore thea ie a positive terror, 
a [KMitive tortiire. It is the fear that he does not lovo ton 
that is killiDg* me. How ahall .1 learn the tmth? I 
will never do so, perhaps. How can I live without 

While ttraa tormenting herself, she wandered heedleasljr 
into a aide-walk, quite near the pavilion. The door waa 
open, a dark shadow detached itself from the hooM. 
Julien, as if he hod heard her Ihonght, as if he bad 
beeo irresistiblj drawn to reply to it, came straight Vf to 

Julie immediately recovered hor self-possession and 
prido. Surprised, sho was going to oddrass him like an 
ofieaded queen, but ho did not give her time to speak. 

" Why are you hero, madam ? " ho said ; " will ao ons 
open the door for you ? Are your people all asleep, or 
waiting for you on the other side of the hotel? Yoa 
cannot pass the night in this garden, dressed as you aro. 
It is two o'clock in the morning. The dow is folliag ; 
you will tw cold, — ill. And see, your hood is on your 
shoulders, your licad is bare, your arms are scarcely eor- 
ered. Stay, bore is a cloak belonging to my mother ; 
take it, and pardon me for being here." 

"But how did you know?—" 

'* I hoard yon walkin;; ou tlio sand ; ^ hoard a light step, 
that could ouly be yours. You stopped every few mo< 
ments, but always began again. I was in my studio ; the 
door was half open. I said to myftelf, *Sbe is still out 
of doors, she cannot make herself heard, she is cold, — 
fatigued, suSoring, alarmed, perhaps.' I could no longer 
remain withb. Besides, it was my duty — , No, madam, 
such a stale of things could not coniioue. Whatever 
may be said or thought, I do not wish to see you dio." 

At last Julion was moved, his voice trembled aa ha 
■poke, his hands trembled as ho placed his mother's oloak 
around Julio's shoulders. Hii agitation, however, did 
Bot proceed from on efibrt to resist the impnlMs of paa> 

148 ANTONU. 

•ion ; he was troubled and excited at a father ia whose 
child 18 in danger. It did not oven occur to him that ho 
eoold be accused of seeking Julie with a selfish or treach- 
erous design. Foraetting all couTentionality, thereforcy 
be expressed his solicitude in an ardent tone, that com- 
pletelj OTcrwhelmed 'her. She seized both his hands in 
bars, and, carried away bj an impulse of exalted passion, 
—-the first of her life, — as unexpected as it was ungov« 
emable, — cried distractedlj, — - 

'*Tou love mo, yon lore me I I am sure of it I 
Speak I tell me that it is so ; —lot me hear it, know it ; 
you lore me as I wish to be loved 1 "* 

Julien stified a cry, and, obeying a first impulse, car- 
ried Julie into his studio. But he recovered in a mo* 
ment all the respect wludi he naturaUr felt for a person 
of her extreme purity of character. Falling at hor feet, 
he covered the tips of her icy fingers with kisses, and im- 
plored her not to doubt him. 

'* Have confidence in me/' he said, *^ I have sworn that 
I would be your brother ; I will be like a brother to you 
now. Do not doubt me, for it is your confidence that 
will save me. I told you tliat I adored you, and it was 
true, —> how true I did not know myself! My love is 
stronger than you think, — more terrible than I myself 
imagined ; but I would kill myself rather than cause you to 
shed a tear 1 Do not be alarmed, -^ you shall never blush 
for having ordered me to love you." 

Would he have been able to keep his word? Amid all 
the delirium of his joy he believed that he would, and 
Julie added to his strength by her courage. 

^ No, I do not want to blush," she said, with the frank 
sincerity of an earnest love, ** I intend to be your wife. 
Frivolous intrigues are not suited to a man like you ; to 
a woman like me gallantry is impossible. Bather than 
forget my honor, I also would kill myself. Julien, what* 
ever may happen,— whether I am rich or poor, — for 
there b an equal chance of the one as of the other, — let 
usswear that we will be married. If lam poor, yon must 
Boi lose courage ; without weakness, without faltering, 
joa mnsl support, cherish me. If I amridbL^'M^ twdfi^ 


prido must keep yon from sharing my ftUo. L«t u u- 
raago all our plana now, — decido, — bind oarMlTM by 
«D onth. I wnrn you that I am not eooragoona, and 
Ihcrcfora I wish to be engaged too far to retreat, for then 
I know that I ahnll look neither to the right nor left- 
Fidelity to my lovo will bo my duty, and tliat thought will 
give tno'strcngth, decision, coolness. True religious prin- 
ciples enabled me to ncccpt despair iu my married life ; I 
will accept happiness now, and will strugglo to bo happy, 
■s I have struggled, hilhcrto, not oven to desire (o bo ao. 
Swear, nay friend I wo must be all to eacli other, or navor 
meet again ; for it is certain that wo lovo each other, and 
that onr lovo is slrouger ihnu oiirsolvos. The world hu 
nothing to do with this. For tho lost filleGii days I have 
no longer lived, — it lias scorned to me that I was dyiajr. 
To-day I do not know tnysclf; just now, if you had told 
roe that yon did not love me, I should have followed you 
in despair. Oh, no, no ! I should have thrown myself 
to tho bottom of tho lake, with the moon and glittering 
alar. Julica, I nm losing my senses ! I have never 
said such things before ; I did not know that I would dare 
■peak so, and I am talking so to you ; — what spirit is 
apeoking through mo? Uavo pity upon mo, — sustain 
me, — guard my honor, which is yours ; preserve for youjv 
■ Bclf tho purity of your wife." 

" Yes, my wife, I swear that I will I " cried Julien, in a 
transport of euihusiosm ; " and you, Julie, swear also, 
beforo God, that you will be mine ! " 

" J/im Dlta I " said Julie, bewildered, and suddenly bo- 
coming a little cowardly again, " and wo Lave only knowa 
each other for n month I " 

" No, not even for a month," replied Julien ; " a month 
ago we met for quarter of an hour in this studio, and 
for quarter of an hour in your house ; this evening wo 
have passed half an hour together in the street ; so that 
altogether we have known each other only for an hour. 
We may as well acknowledge, Julio, that we do not know 
each other at all, according to all appearances. But, not- 
withstandiog, wo love each other I A love like thiseomea 
from God. He haan ua now, and comprobesda all that 

««£»el; for H wu Hit wiU tlwt we ihonld km ; Hedft- 

" Ye», you mn right," ilia npli«d, with renewed en- 
thouauiii iiupired once mora by her lorer*! exalted faith. 
** We IcDOW nothing of each other bmnd the fltct of 
mr rnntnel lore, la not that enongh? Doei not thii 
ooiucMMunaai render eTerything elae sapeT^uoua ? What 
remain*? -All that the world Knows of yon is tliat yo> 
are a akilfal artiet, a worthy young man, a good bod. 
Do I love you becouM you poaaeae these qnalitiesl 
Ton hare beard people say that I am kind, gentle, gen- 
ermu; but this is not the reason that yon love mol 
Tbara are other good men, other estimable women, for 
whom we should never have dreamed of farming an af- 
ftetion. We love bocanso wo love, — that is the whole 

** Tes," replied Jnlien, " love is like God ; it is because 
b is, — it is absoluUl What matters it that we shall 
discover ia each other, hereafter, such and snch pecu- 
liarities of mind and character f The great, the absorbing 
interestof our life, is oar affection; sure of that, we have 
known each other a hundred years, ^forever, — love 
boa neither beginning nor end." 

Tbev talked in this incoherent way for mora than an 
hour, m low voices, in the studio, vaguely lighted by the 
moon glimmering through the tree*. Julie was seated ; ' 
Julion knelt before her, and held her hand* in his, ol- 
thon^ they had not ventured to exchange a kiss. The 
moon was unking towards the horiion, and yet the light 
became stronger and stronger: they were obliged to 
confess that the dawn was breaking. 

Julie arose, and made her escape, after swearing, and 
making Jolien swear » hundred times, that their union 

CamiUe was verjr mtwh nrprised, when she opeiMd . 
the door lor hisr nistnaa, to aee that it was neariy three 

"Are mypaopla still wauling fiw nie?*wid Madam 

" Yea, iMd ane , thy wypose d that iiiaidaa»iwwSa.-i!ef 



nuuD ftll niglit to pn/ oror Ihe bodjr of the ) 

The carriage wont for icadamo. It mnat hare boon at 

the door of iho bolol d'Onnoode." 

" No, it delayed ao lon^ that I did not wait. H. TbiaRy 
escorted mo homo bj waj of the pavilion, and I atopped 
then to talk about mj afiain. Toll the aerranta that tkef 
can go to bod ; iLe carriase will probablj ratani whan tba 
coachman bccomea sober. 

"Ah, nwn Dieul madame knows what haj^ianedf then? 
Poor Butieo ] I can swear to TnnHanM that he oalj got 
drunk out of spile, because modame drove in a cab. 

If this explaoatioQ mode Julie smile, Iho acconat she 
gave of hor own procoodings appeared singular to hor ehan^ 
bonnaidi but sho'suspocied uotliing. Julie's life was so 
simple and pure, that she was above suspicion. CamiUa 
merely thought tliat her atTairs must be very mndi inTolred, 
since she liad to pass tUo night in talking with liar lawjror. 
She imparted her anxiety to the other serrants, who took 
the matter greatly to heart, although resolving, at the aama 
time, that tliey would not let thoir wages bo in nrreai*. - 
The valet do cliambro, who was the friend of Camillo, 
and protector of Uosiicu, went to iho hotel d'Ormonde 
in scorch of tho laticr, but did not find bioa. Baatian 
had uuUorslood that he was oi'dcrcd back to tho taTem. 
lie bod returned tliither, and was sleeping the sloop of . 
an angel, ^ no other is reputed delicious enough to be 
compared with that of a druulutrd. Tho carriage was 
Waiting at the door uadcr the charge of tho footman, his 
Bubonlinalo, who had couscnled to hold tho horses, on 
condition that be should bo supplied, ovory quarter of an 
hour or so, with something to keep him worm. Tho rognes 
did not reappear at tho hotel until broad daylight, and 
did not recover their senses for twenty-four hours. Un- 
der other circumstances, Julie would have discharged 
thorn ', but she foresaw that this Duchanal adventure would 
cast her own romantic adventure into tho sliado, and 
keep it from being brought into discussion ia the »ai»- 
chamber and the lodge. This really happened ; and, ai 
Madam d*£streUe'e Mrntota were not at oU apitofulf U 



— wned M if no iaqoiriM would ever be made ftbout tho 
•mplofment of tlua uniunftl night. 

On the fidlowing ereniag, the loren eoosiderad it pni- 
deol to remaia mlliin doors; bat, on the next night, 
■bboogh llief bed made do appoiotmeat, thej met in the 
grorea of the garden, and repeated, vith new delight, the 
vows thejr had so latelj nude. For some time the; coo- 
tinned to moot in this wajr, without trouble or apparent 
Nothing was easier than for Usdum d'Estrelle 

to slip from her apartmenta ; she could do so opcnljr, 
Moce her people bad been in Uio habit of seeing her lake 
the fre^ air alone, and at quite a late hour, during the 

IT people bad been in Uio habit of seeing her lake 

What ft happT lifo, if it coald v^j hare lasted I These 
meetings bod aU the cliarm of mystcr;, and no remorse 
tronbled their delight. Free, both of them, — aspiringonl; 
10 the most bolj union, and sustained b; a love strong 
•sough to be patient, — ihey mot together in the night, 
anaid thickets of flowers, in the spleudor of the eummor, 
- jttst opening and still retaininff all the graces of the 
spring, like tvro Oanc^ who are privilo;^ ta love, and 
who, without abusing thoir liberty, withdraw from obsor- 
TStion, so as sot to make olliere jealous. It was the 
bonejmoon of sentiment proceding that of passion. Fas- 
sioo, indeed, the; foil, but resisted it, or rather held it in 
reserve by common consent, for the period of conflict and 
danger that could not long be dola/ed. They knew that 
the; would have to fight a battle in defence of their love, 
and Jnlien sometimes said to his friend, — 

" Yon will have to loffer for my sake, I know, 
and I shall snffor from the consoiousncsa that you are 
being annoyed ; bnt wo will belong to each other then, 
and oar happiuss will render lu invulnerable to outside 
attacks. Lvea if you were not mado sacred to mo by 
joor piodesty and my voneralion, it seems to me that 
f iBthn— ■ iueir, properly onderstood, wonld loach me not 
to exhaost all my bappiMss at odco." 

At othsr times Juuaa was more agitated, and less r^ 
•i^Md Vt dab^t bat, at soeh momisnta, Julie calmed 

]ilm bj imploring him to nmembor wbat Im had uid <■ 
the previoiiB day. 

" I have been ao happj siaco we haro lond eadi Otb« 
thus 1 " she snid. " Do not change a lituation fall ^d»- 
light. Think : on the day when I acknowledge opnlr 
that I have chosen yon aa the companion of my liib, pos- 
pie will laugh at mo, donounco me, accuM mo of jieliuDg 
to a vulgar infatuation ; I know virtuous women, who will 
•ay to mo scornfully, — 'Accept him for a lover, •inn 
you must have a Io\-cr, but ece him in Becnit,^do sol 
marry him 1 ' How shall I be able to robuka thwr im- 
portioonco, if my conscience is not dear, — if I hare no . 
tcmger the right to say, *No, ha ia not my lovor, haisi^f 
betrothed, whom I love, and wlio bos proved hie le^oet 
for me as no other man would hare been able to dol' 
We shall need nil our atrongtfa, Julien, and truth ia the 
most powerful of all weapons witb which to etrus^ 
against fulso ideas." 

Julicu submitted from devotion, and also out of reapoct 
to the heroic sentiment (chat sentiment by which ComoiUe 
was animated) that had governed his life and restrained, 
the first impoluosity of bis youth. Ho could gorom Uis 
senses, since ho bad novcr allowed them to rule him. 
And then, this romance of pure love, celebrated in tha 
balmy night, appealed to his imaginatioa ; for tbo artist, 
those poetic mcclinga were intoxicating festivals. There 
wero gloomy recesses, and douse masses of foliage in this 
garden, such as wo see in tho compositions of Watteau. 
And Julio herself, with her rather tall figure, so simply 
and gracefully clad in amplo, flowing skirls, harmonised 
with the very focliog which miido Watteau a painter 
without trickery, an Italian roiilisi, althou;;h liviug in a 
eociotyof eonventiounlism, and an ago of anbctatlon. In 
a certain retired corner, sharply dullnad upon the dark 
background of iho groves, and loaning fotih vaguely in 
the night like a ghost, stood a high pedestal oncirdod with 
ivy, and aarmountotl by a large while vuse. Faint gleams 
of light, vanishing, intangible, glimmered amid tho foliage, 
and the shadows of the bmnchos fell upon the marble. 
Aa tb« twilight deepened, tha outlines of the vase grado- 


wXij beetme iodiBtincii bat its form nerer ceaaod to be 
•logiiiit aod migofttio. 

It wa8 to this spot, as soon as his mother had retired, 
that Jalieo went to await Julie; and, when she ap- 
proached, smiling, tranquil as an embodied dream of hap- 
piness, with her silk robes shining in the darkness, and 
her beantifttl bare arms, holding some light sa,tin drapery, 
be imagined that she was a modem muse presiding over 
his destinj, bringing him all the promises of the future, 
and all the delights, all the enchantments that belong to 
the real life of the present. 

It was well for them to eigoy the present without think- 
ing too mnch of the morrow, for the future was too uncer- 
tam to admit of their forming definite plans. They did 
not yet know how long they would be allowed to remain 
in happy tranquillity, forgotten and abandoned by the 
world, m this garden, which Lore had transformed mto a 
terrestrial paradise. Soon, perhaps, inexorable creditors 
would eren drive tliem from thp pavilion, and force 
them to seek in some suburb a cottage with a garden 
under its windows. Whatever their Ate might be, they 
were resolved to meet it together ; this was the only thing 
that was oertain, — their only irrevocable determina- 


nPHE. marquis d'Estrelle had been dead two weeks*, 
^ and still, in spite of all possible investigations, there 
was no trace of a will. People believed that there had 
been one, although no one dared assert distinctly that 
the marchioness had destroyed it. A number of indica- 
tions persuaded Marcel that this was the case, but there 
was no use in expressing suspicions that could not be 
proved true, and things quietly took their legal course. 
The marchioness, that is, according to the terms of her 
marriage settlement, inherited sU the property of the 
Jeceasedi and she made no mention of any sum set a^^aci 


for paying lbs dobti of Uio Into count. Tbm tamu of 
Julio's Mttlcmcnt, howoTcr, tcomed to call for aadi * 
provialou. It wna n question Tor tho kw lo dociilo ; And 
Harccl ndvisod Julio to begin a suit, If onljr to itop tba 
suits ngninst horsolf, tliut wcro alroodj tlirealoned. Julio 
was opposod to going to law. Slio tbouglit tluit In Uw> 
snits botli parties wcro almost sura to loso, ukI Uarool 
confessed ibnt slio was not very far wrong. 

" I am vmy wall awara," ilio said, " that tiM inu^ 
cliioooss does not lllio mo, and it may be that abo dooi 
not legally owa mo aoythiag ; but bor standing ia Tory 
high, and, woaltliy as she is, it is impossible that aha 
will allow a person bearing her namo to bo left antinfy 
deitituto. It would not do to spoak to her abont xaaatif 
matters so soon as Ibis, and would bo impmdent, as 70a 
yourself observed, to appear in too much bosto. When- 
ever the right time comes, I will spook to lior, altboogh 
Ibo task will bo a very disagreeable one. You aboU toll 
mo wbcQ." 

Some timo allorwards, Slnrccl DotiflOd her that abe 
must lake licr nieoaurca without delay. 

" You must go At once," ho snid, " Ihora is no time ' 
to loM ; your creditors are proposing to begin procosd* 
inss Against you to-morrow." 

Without being discourngod at the untoward roiult of 
her first visit, Julio I lad called a second timo upoD the 
niorchioncss a few dnys ancr tho decease of tho ntnrquis. 
Oil this occnsion she hod boon received coldly, but civilly. 
The will boing destroyed, her prcseuce, pcrlinps, was no 
longer feared. The niarchiooosa referred to bor nbaenea 
on the ovoning of her futher-ia-law's death, anil mode 
Buvo'ral tart obsorvuiioas about tlio worldly nlounrce 
which wero atlundiug tho end of Madam d'EMrallo's 
mourning. In reply, Julio gave the oxplaDotioD agrood 
upon wiib Marcel. Tho marchianoM listonod with an 
oir of impolilo curiosity, and added, ^ 

"It is unfortunato for you, countoas, that ymi will 
have to go into mourning again I " 

Julie continued to visit tho dowager without making 
•ny reference to her owa ombarraMed dreanatwwaa. 


'When dal«r wu no longsr poiuble, sh« called ; and, 
with her umuI ■weetoeu of manner, explained ber posi- 
tioD I brief i^ geotle •■ her words were, howDver, ahe 
eoald not lunago to make them reiy humble. 

**I really bog your pardon," answend the marchion- 
«•, "but Botbariog the adrantage of being intimate 
with attonwTi, I know ttothing aboat snch mattora. If 
jo« will aend your lawyer to mine, ba iball examiae into 
ray righta as well as my obligntiona, and he will be sotis- 
. Am that yon were not one of the persons left under, my 

" This is not the answer, madam', that I expected from 
a person of your uprightness of eharactor. Very possi- 
bly you do not owe me anything. Since yon oswrt that 
fa is BO, I am bound to believe you. Dut I bad supposed 
that family coasidoralioas — " 

** I have not tbo honor of belonging to your family," 
iaterruptod tbo marchioness, dryly. 

** Yon moan to imply," noawcrcd Julie, indignant at 
this proTocotion, " that the Uarquis d'Eatrclle married 
beneath him, in selecting from a family ono-hnlf of whose 
9 nobility was of thosword,andDna-half of Iberobo, That 
- intimation does not ofibnd mo. I am oot aabamcd of my 
aoceators, who were magiatratea, nor do I conaidor my- 
aelf inferior to anybody. Dut I did not como huro to 
discuaa my right to tbo honor of bearing the anme name 
with yooraolT. Aa a matter of fact, I am tho Countosa 
d'EsiroUe. Is it right that I should loso ibo aiipport 
promised to me, and auppoaod to bo asaored to me? Al- 
tboagh the marquis may have forgotton mo upon his 
death-bed, he must hare informed you of hia intontiooa ; 
and doea it not follow that you ought to pay his son's 
debts, in bis place, or at least a part of them?" 

"No, madiun," answered the dowager, "no such ob- 
ligation follows from any intention that he ever exprossod 
to mo. It was the opinion of the marquia that you ought 
at one* to rarrsnder your right of dower, ainco it ia not 
worth enough to pay your huabond'a dobia ; and that in 
that easa, naasBrea •boold ba taken to pay what remained 


*' This has oflca been 8Ug;]fcsted to mc, madam ; and I 
bave asked whether, in coDsidcration of this sacrifice, it 
woB proposed to settle any income upon me." 

" Arc you entirely without means? Ilave you inher- 
ited nothing at all from your own family?*' 

*^ Twolvo hundred francs a year, madaiHt and no morei 
as you yourself know," 

** Oh, well, you can live upon that, my dear I It will 
enable you to drive in a fiacrci to hire a box at the 
theatre, to visit attorneys' wives, and to ran abcmt the 
streets at midnight, leaning upon the arms of sigD- 

{aintcrs. Your tastes are of thb description, from what . 
bear. Gratify them, by all moans. Surrender yoor 
dowcr-right, or soli at any sacrifice all the property 
which you have derived from the d'Estrelle family ; I 
don*t care which. My only wish in the matter is, tiiat 
you should bo married to somebody, so as to change your 
name, and prevent you from being confounded with me 
by people who don't know us.** 

^^ You shall have that satisfaction, madam,** said JnliSi 
rising, ** for I should dislike such a disagreeable confo* 
sion as that, as much as yourself.'* 

She bowed, and withdrew. 

Marcel was waiting at her house, and saw her come 
in, pale, and with her eyes flashing with indignation. 

I' All is lost," ho 'exclaimed, ''I sco that I Tell me 
quickly, nmdam, what has happened. Yon frighten 
mo I" 

*^ My dear Thierry, I am ruined without remedy,** re- 
plied Julio, ^^ but it is not that which is choking mo. I 
have been insulted, — trodden under foot. At the very first 
word, although I had said nothing rash, had offered her 
no provocation, she insulted mo to my very face. I have 
been followed by spies, too, and the most innocent circum- 
stances have boon reported, and most venomously misrep- 
resented. Thierry," she continued, sinking upon a chair, 
'^ you are a virtuous man ; I swear to you that I am a 
strictly virtuous woman." 

*^ No one but a scoundrel could think of denying it,** cried 
Marcel. ^* But come, take courage, — explain 1 '* 

158 ANTONiA. 

TIm ooosteu gaTe.hiin ft full aecoant of her interriew 
with tbs EUTchioness, but did not refer to her anderstaod- 
ing with Jalien ; for tbej hwl neolTod, for the preunt, 
not to reveal their eccrot, oToa to Madam Thieny herself. 

When Harcel kneir all, ho was verj much discoui^ 
a^ed, and wenMd to think the ailnation altoj^ether de»- 

"Yon bftTo BO allomaiire, as far as I con see," he 
•aid, "between sadden and at»olate destitntion, — a tet^ 
ribla trial for n person of jour habits, — and a lawsoit, 
of which Iho result is extremclj uncertain. I do not 
know how to advise jon. Mj worst apprehensiona are 
naliiod. The plan is to rob jon, and to set the world 
•gainst jon, too, bj blackening jour reputation. The 
manhionMa has bean sharpeniag her weapons for some 
time; sho provided herself with them on seeing that the 
marqais was failiuff, and oTon at the veij moment of his 
death mode use of them. She has been plotting jour 
destroctioQ in cold blood, has sot spies upon jon, uid fol* 
lowod jou about — " 

" Slaj, U. Tbierrj ; has not U. Antoine had a hand 
in all this?" 

" Jalien believos he has. For mj part, I am still in 
doubt. I will ascertain, however ; and, if necessorj, will 
ononise a spj sjstem in opposition to his ; but the first 
thug is not to know who has been betrajing jon, bat to 
resolve npon jonr own line of condnct.'' 

" First of all, do lawsuit I " 

"Verj well, but we will not saj so. We will make 
ereat demonstrations of fighting. I will attend to that. 
Tbej want joa to surrender jour dowerrights for noth- 
ing. For mj port, I moan that thej shall paj for it, and 
I shall hold out for a right good price, too. 

" In the meanwhile, observed Julie, "I have quan 
nllcd with mj bosbasd's fanufy ; for, as joa can verj 
well imagine, X shall never eater tb« house of tb« ma- 
cUooesa again." 

"I cannot recommend von to panne a difi^rent course, 
Ar •!>• haa ovideatlj reaolved to push joo to axtremitiea. 


War baa been decUred ; and, altbon^ wa Ud Dot pio* 
Tokd hoatilitiea, wo most not diaw back." 

Harcel, howcTer, had no time to prepare for baUle, 
Two or three lawyers, of rather bad cbancter, who -wvn 
talking aboat a forced sale at anctioa, and who dedbed 
to hear of anjr further delays, were purauiag him rigot^ 
oualj. lie made up hia mind that it would be neoenarjr 
to eomplj, therefore, with the dcsianda of the mai^ 
diioDeM, uid he went to Julie to tell her so. 

" Th<7 intend to lob yon," ho said, ** and I am afraid 
that, in ease of resistance, tliey will force yon to giTa np 
even Ute amall capital that you inherit from your own 
family. It ia reiy certain that the count's debts, with tha 
amara of interest, will amouut to more than what ia left 
of bis fortune. The Harchioneas d'Eatrelle means to 
oome and live in the hotel d'EstreUe, or, at all erents, to 
get it ioto her hands." 

"And its depeodenciea as wellP^aakod Julie; "the 
pavilion also ? " 

" The pavilion also. My auut will bo entitled to aa 
indemnity for qnitling tlie promises, but that ia a qnostioa 
to be discussed separately, and docs not coocom yon." 

Julie made no reply, and sank into a fit of deep melan- 
choly. The idea of being ruined, — of being reduced 
to an income of twelve hundred francs a year, —had 
not really aHumed distinct form in her mind. But to 
leave at once and forever this elegant mansion, — thia 
delicious garden, which had within the last few wooka be- 
come so dear to her,— to lose the neighborhood of tho 
pavilion, — to forego her inlcn-iows with Julien, so full 
of charm and security, — this was indeed a, catastrophe I 
A whole world of delights wns crumbling beneath h«r* 
feet. A phase of existonco, filled with tho purest happt- - 
Dcss, waa ended with brutal violence, and without allowing 
her the least time for prcparatioa. 

Marcel at onco wont to see tlio notary of tho nuii^ 
chioness, and found that he took a very high tone, not- 
withstanding the conceasioDs that he waa preparod to. 
make. Thia waa not tho bult of the notary, who waa 
reaJljr'an ozcollont man, but he waa forced to follow hu 

i66 ANTOHtA. 

diont's dinctioDS u to tbo eondact of hor bonaeM. Ho 
had, raonoTcr, beeo prejudiced Agaiut Julio, Kod to> 
gudod bor u « foolish jouog woman, rcadjr to uicrifico 
aTorjrthiog to th« gntiiicatioQ of b«r ODrcgulAted pu* 
•ioiw, "niu WM more than Marcel conld bear % ho vas 
hi^j iodignaat, and awore upon hu hooor that there wai 
BO aacrat cooiMctioD between (be eountaia and hU consia, 
— Ibattbij were acarcely acquainted, — and that Julia 
ma Ibe purest of women, and the moat entitled to respect 
Mtd to ^!ej. Uanel was Iroown to be an excaedinglj 
booonble man, and the notary was rather staggered bjr 
tba warmth of hia coDTictioD, Bat, coming back to Iha 
qnestioo of the legal rights of the mardiioness, he d»< 
nooatnUad that she was mistress of the situation, and 
that Jnlie might even consider herself fortonate to be al- 
lowed to do as she required. 

He promised, however, to do all in his power to inspire 
his client with more liberal views respecting the widow 
of her Btcp«on. The next daj he wrote to Marcel, to sajr 
that the marchioness desired to see the hotel d'Estrelle, 
wbidi she bad not entered for a long time. She wished 
to examine the condition of the premises with licr own 
^•s, and 10 have an appraisement made in hor presence, 
with his assistance and that of Ibe lawjrer of the countess. 
It was eas7 to see, from the tuni of Uiis letter, that the 
iwt«7 had displeased his client, bjr pleading Julie's cause, 
M ho bad promised, from a moral point of view, and that 
ha himKlf was far from being latitfiod with Uie suspicion 
•od barsbaeaa of the dowagor. 

Ho made his appearance, along with her, tbo some dajr. 
Julie, nnwilliag to see her cruel enemj again, locked her> 
■elf inio her boudoir, leaving all the other doors opon. 

Tbo Marchioness d'Estrelle was of a harsh dispositioo, 
arao for aNonoan ; in Uadam d'Aucourt's cirele tbej used 
to can ber "Madame do FSmbache," ••Uadama d'Or- 
Ucbe," and so on. Sbawaa accused of borrowing mon^ 
bjr the Tear, and lending it again fbr short lanns, at bard 
rates. Ferb^s there was some exaggeration about this, 
bat if aha was proposing to advance a large sum in order 
to Mtlk with tba ereditora of the Cmmt d'Eati^^uA. 

ANTONiA. l6i 

obtain posMSsioa herself of Julie'* property, U ia certain 
UiHt'fllio meant to got eomo of it bock agsia in the dotnOa 
of the busiDCM. Tlii« was proved dcarlj onongfa) hj her 
promptnees in causing an appmiBemoDt. 

She wont all over the liouae, inspecting ererythisg 
witli keen and unerring eyes. SLo mode olyections, nod 
aotcd deductions for every little nib on the wall, depre- 
ciated u much OS she could the value both of tho real 
and personal property ; and both in speech and aetioQ 
•hewed a disgUBtiog avarice, and aversion for her raUp 
live, that astounded Marcel, and more than once nuula 
tlko notary blush. When they come to the boudoir ia 
which Julio had taken refuge, she ordered tho door to bs 
opened. She was obeyed inaiantly. Julio had heard 
her coming, and not choosing to be compelled to rooeivo 
an odious visit in spile of herself, — such an insult was 
too much to be endured, — slio hnil gone out by way of tba 
garden, leaving orders with Camille to open tlie door wbea 
required. Camille was very proud, — there hod beoa 
aldermen among her ancestors I She could not rasiat 
the Icmptalioa of giving the dowager a lesson ; going to 
a tablo where elie bad hastily laid out a few articles oa 
purpose, she said, in n tone of sarcastic humility, — 

" I'crhnpa madam would Uko to count tho linon ? Hera 
ore Bomc of my mistress's neck-handkerchiefs and ril^ 

The dowager usually would have cared little for the 
talk of a servant, but her haired of Julie was stung and 
exasperated by the blow. She looked hastily throu^ the 
window, and saw Madam d'Estrellc crossing the gardea 
towards the pavilion. 

Julio, no doubt, made a great mistake in going to the 
pavilion, but she was angry also. It seemed to her that 
she was driven out of her house, her own room, hor moat 
private sanctuary, by this impudent persecution. She 
fled for a refuge; and, too irritated for conaidoratioa, 
instinctively, and without atopping to refleet, raa to 
Madam Thierry, — to Juhon. 

" They will not come and hunt me down over then,** 
■be (aid to herself; " tbey will not dare. I am the owner 




of thai property yet; no one except mjrself has the 
right to enter premises occupied under a lease from me. 
BesideSf it is time to avoir n^ friendship for Madam 
Thiernr ; from this time forward, I shall take the lib- 
er^ of visiting her as I do other ladles who have brothers 
and SODS." 

Just as she was resolutely entering the pavilion, the 
UMPchioness, with a resolution not less sudden, issued 
finom the boudoir and rushed into the garden. 

** Where are you going, madam ?^ said Marcel, who 
had not noticed Juliet flight, but who mistrusted the glit^ 
taring eyes and abrupt manoouvres of the active and 
vigorous old woman. 

The marchioness, active as a plucked magpie, flew 
oiiward, without condescending to reply. Unable to stop 
her, Marcel and the notary followed. 

She knew the way perfectly well, although she had not 
been upon the premises for a long time, having, since her 
second marriage, quarrelled witl^tho count, her step-son. 
She reached the pavilion a few minutes after Julie, found 
the outer door open, and sprang into the studio as if she 
had been shot into it. 

Julien was there alone ; he did not even know that 
Madam d'Estrelle had come in and gone up stairs to his 
mother's room. Since his secret interviews with Julie 
he no longer watched for her approach. Their under- 
standing with each other was so good, that they could 
afibrd to dispense with accidental meetings. Ue was. at 
work, and singing. Julie, as she entered the little ves- 
tibule, had felt a sudden vague presentiment that she 
would be pursued, and had gone up stairs, thinking that 
the widow's chamber would afford her an invioh&ble re- 
treat. Julien had never seen the old dowager; and, 
startled by her sudden apparition, he rose up, thinking that 
aho had entered from the street, and that he was going, 
perhaps, to receive some commission. This flushed and 
breatidess personage, with her harsh and wrathful coun^ 
tenanesi inspired him, however, with a feeling of diiiike . 
latber than of expectation* 


" That woman wonU hngglfi like r Mcoad-Itaiid itttSttj' 
he said to liimaelf ; " perhaps she reallj ii one." 

The old lady's mean drew gare no indicatioa of Imt 
rank and fortnno. 

"Are you alone here?" she inqaind, witbool aoj M>t 
.of Btilulatioo. 

Marcel and Ihe notaiy .now made their appearaoesi 
and Julien, astonished, looked inquiringl/ at luureel, who 
made lioste to saj, — 

" This lady thinks of buying the pavilion, «od ibo — " 

" It is nnaecessary to present me to this peraon," i»- 
(umod the marchioness, sharply, " and I am quits abla to 
make my own explanations." 

■ *' Very well, modnm," said Jnlioa, uniling, " this pea<- 
SOD is very much at your sorrice." 

" I asked you a question," continned the mordiionas, 
not at all disconcerted ; " let mo make it plainer. Which 
way did the Countess d'Eslrcllo go?" 

Jnlicn started back. Marcel, wishing to avoid a ridio- 
ulons scene, caught his eye, and pointed to his forehead, 
AS much OS to say, " The lady is out of her mind I " 

" Ah, I undorslond 1 " said Julien ; and continued io - 
the tone that people nse to children or idiots, **'th« 
CountcDs d'Esirello, madam, — I do not know bor." 

" That is a very foolish reply, Mr. Pointer, and qnita 
useless besides. I want to speak to that lady, and I 
know that she stays hero, ~~- from time to time." 

" Marcel," said Julien to his cousin, " waa it yon who . 
brought this woman here ? " 

Marcel, in an agony, shook his head. 

" Was it you, then, monsieur ? " said Julien to Iho ikh 

" No, monsieur," said the notary, promptly ; *^ I fot> 
lowed her, and I don't know at all for what noioa aho 
came here." 

" Then you would have done mnch better not to hava 
followed me," replied the marchioness, dryly and quietly ; 
" I had a reason for coming into this pioiure^op, «ad 
yon had none. Do ino the AiTor to allow me to tranaut 
my bnuneu ia a^ own nay" 

l6f, ANTOiriA. 

"Zwashmrhuda otli," wld the xtoXaxjx and.bowiog 
to Jnlien wilh much polileneu, ho vvoX out, earsing tb* 
crow griipad, tkotutio humor of hu clieot. 

" J^ to 70a, Kr, Attoraa/ — " bogui the nutrehiooeu 
to Uaml— 

" At to nw, madamj" intemiptod Htrcel, " th» U mj 
own txaSij, and I •httU noeiTO no ordan oxeopt from tho 
lodj of tho hooao, who ia nj onnL" 

** I know nil that. I know that joo ore reUtivM. I 
kaow what good rrioadt jon an among jonnolrett and 
what good neighbors 700 an to the widow of the Coaot 
d'Eetralla. fiuj if /on cboooe, or put oae ont if 70U 

" Let ni hare dooe, madam, with thia diBagroeable dia> 
conioi)," iaid Jnlien, toeing patience ; <'I am not in tho 
babil of being diarespectful to women, howevor aaion- . 
iihing tboir coadnct ma; appear. But I am an artiit, .— 
a mechanic, if 70Q will. Thiiiamf hooae, — mj- picture. 
ahop, «• jon veiy properly obaertiM]. I am at work, and 
caonot anbrd to Iom m; time. Yoo an epeaking of 
tbinge that I know nntbiog abont, and of a lad; that I 
bare not tho honor of receiTiog. If yon have no better 
naaoo for interroptiog me, allow me to leave 70a." 

Taking lua canvas and his palette, Jnlien left the 
■todio, aAer casting an ezprcsaivB glance at Marcel, as 
Bach as to sajr, '* Now get oat of it as well as 70a 

"Vtrj well," said the marchioness, bj no means 
a b ashed at this fbrmal dismissal, "I remember what 
tbo old song WTt 1 'Let'ssearch the house a little,* I 
will not let jou off at alL I mean to see the whole of 
the pavilion, inside and out, np stairs and down, Just as 
I have seen the botaL" 

"This way, then," said Marcel, "bIqco you losist ■ 
npoo it. But allow ma to speak to my aunt, whoao room 
is upstairs." 

" No, by BO means," said the dowager, morlog to- 
wards the door. " 111 speak to her mywlf ; and if thoy 
timiDeoBt, — wall, I shall be vsrygUd of it, Ur. Al- 

AJfTONlA. I«5 

•'Yoa *n eerUialjr out of jonr seuu," gxdaiiDBd 
Marcol, iaTolaalKrilj. '* Ii il pouiblo ibftt job rosily 
anppoM Madam d'Estrollo ia bidden up then? CoaM 
and see ! I will ahow you tho way. When yoa an pai^ 
UciW aatiaflcd — " 

^rcel was a Uundrod Ica^ea KWay from imaglaiog 
that Julio was in hia aunt'a room. AU at obob, aa be 
Buddonly opeood the door of the atndio, he mw. Madam 
d'EstrcUe and M"'*""' Thieny staading before lum. Ha 
slopped short, with as exprossioD of the moat pitiabto 
diaappoiatmo uL 

Julie had heard Iho uproorioua entraoce of tlie nuu^ . 
chiooeu into the studio, and Jullca had como up stain 
to toll his mother that a craiy woman was bolow making 
a disturbaoco. IIo was surprieod to soo Julio, and, when 
ho learned tliat llie crazy woman was the dowager her^ 
self, WAS distressed enough at lier praacnco. Julio had 
recognized her voice ; nud as she knew perfectly well that 
the old lady would hunt her to tho very garret, sho n 
up her mind at onco what to do. Taking f - 
Thierry's arm, she said, ^ 

" Come, it dees net suit me at oil to bo found ia thU 
room, liko a criminal hidioj; himself. I prefer to foco 
the storm ; and, since it is my duty to do so, I shall not 

Julien, dcspcrato, and ready to give free vont to hia 
anger, remained standing at tho head of the staircase, 
listening, and asking himself whether Marcol alone would 
bo able to protect the lwo,women, whom, of all the world, 
bo Invcd and respected the most, from boiag inauUed by 
this old fury. 

Uut, most unexpectedly, as soon as sho found beraolf 
in tho presence of the two ladies, tho face of tho dotr* 
agor cleared up, and her anger seemed to disappear. AU 
that she had wanted was to see wiih her own oyoa that 
site had not been tnlsinformcd about Julio's friendship 
for Madam Thierry, and consequently her intimacy witU 
Julien., It was rather a far>fctchod couolusioa, indeodf 
to suppose that she was tho miatross of tho son boeanaa 
abe imaw the mother ; but aa Julien had told tha mnr- 


, diiooeM IbM be did not know J(ill«, >h« hod soma abow 
of iCMOa for beUering what she deeirod to beliare. 
Qoieted b^ ber tuppMed. ducoveir, u & yultara ia 
quieted when it - soisea its prof , sho bunt into *d ill- 
Batored Ungh, gUneed tiinmpbuitlj At Mucel, and pm- 
wed to depart without asluting an/ one, or waiting to 
be^koken to. 

" Cmm, t&. LawTor," ahe aaid, "lam sMiafied; I 
b»T« aoen all that I wanted to.' Lot na attend now to 

Julio VM about to replj to thia insolent and earcastio 
■peach. She felt ao oxaaporotod that ahe waa rood/ to 
rereal hor aocrct bofora thom oil. Calumniated, treated 
with coDtempt, as if guiltjr of u crime, sho felt that she 
eonid recoror ber dignil/ onljr bjr arowing her sincora ' 
■Bd legitimate affection. This was verj courageous in a 
woman like her, who hod Deror known what it was to . 
oratend with otlien. She woald not probablj hare been 
capable of fonniog such an extreme resolution with cool 
deliberation, at least without Julian's consent, but Indig- 
nation gave her courage. 

She was uot allowed, however, to carry out her pur- 
pose. Marcel and Madam Tbienr each of them seiaed 
one of her hands, and cried, as if in unison, — 

** Do not repljr ; it is beneath jou to notice ber." 

While they held her in thia way, the dowager, without 
coodescendiDg to look at her, led the house, and relumed 
to the hotel, followed br the honest law/er, who had 
been waiting for her ootside, and who, aa he left, bowed 
to Julia in a peculiarly doforenlial manner. 

" You aee, said Marcel, " even her own lawjrer pro* 
t«su againat aoeh insulting conduct \ and now that the 
woman has token off her mask, nobody will bo upon ber 
aide as againat jou. But, for God'a aake, madam, bow 
eeold fon bavo allowed yonrtelf to be aurpriaed in thia 
boose, where joa oerer oomo? Z must sa/ that 70U are 
v«i7 impradaaL" 

" Hjr dear Thieny," said Julie, " I have something to 
tall jroo. Go andVind np yoor buuneos with tha ma> 
I, jriald aTM/thinf M ittriw tit* nMiM| ^utfiuq^ 


•ra concerned, laTo only aiT'own litllo foitoM, and eon* 
bade to tho [wvilioa. I will wait for joa." 

"But whj in the pavilion?" lukad Uarcel. 

** I will toll jou wboD 70U rotum," aaid Julio. 

"In fact, madam," said Julion, as soon as Uarcel had 
gone, " what anlncky accident can bare iadnced 70a to 
honor m; mother with a visit on the verr dajr wbut joor 
mortal onomy was lying in wait for 70a ? And whj ' do 
70a remain here now, as if on purpoas to oonflrm bar 
strange suspicions? " ■ 

Id spite of Julien's respectful and modest tona* his 
words implied a sort of reprimand that astonished Mada m . 

"Julicn," replied Mndam d'EatroUe, with spirit, "tha 
moment for our confession has come. It has como soooar 
than wo oxpocled, but it is inevitable, aod I will not 
shrink from Iho duly it imposes." 

" My excellent friend," she cried, Ihrowio^ beraolf into 
Modnm Thierry's nrms, " Icam the truth. I love Julian 1 
I have cngnj^d myself lo liiia in the most sacred mai^ 
nor. Embrace ^our daughter, and bless her." 

"Ah, iTion Ditiit" cried Madam Thierrj, bewildered, 
and pressing Jul ien to bor heart; "are you married ?" 

" Without your consent ? Certainly not," cried Julien, 
embracing bis mother in his turn. " Dot we have only 
bees waiting to beg your consent, until we could do so 
without fear of distressing and olarmiug you. Julie haa 
spoken sooner than I should have wished, but, since aha 
has spoken, what can I odd? I have deceived you, mj 
dear motlier : I love her to distraction, and 1 am tho 
happiest of men, for she loves me too." 

Madam TUien^ was so nfTccted by this unexpected 
intelligoDco, that it was a long lime before she could 
speak. Even while overwhelming both her children with - 
the tenderest caresses, she trembled ; her hands were 
cold, her tyet were dim with tears ; she felt a singular 
mingling of apprehension and joy, Tho former sonti* 
ment was perhaps predominant, for her first question was 
to ask Julien why, in spito of his happiness, ha bad 
•eemed inclined to reprove Julie tot being too bMty< 


<^Thit was iIm reaaon/* excUuined Jolte; **we 
•greed yeeterdaj eremogv^for we meet and talk to- 
gl^er eyerjr eyeningy dear mothor,— that we would 
wait until my bueioeas afiairs ahould be definitelj settled, 
bcfiNre reyeidiDg our aecretto our friendst or even to 
jou. I saw plaiiil/ that I should soon be ruined, and 
JnliflQ was not at all alarmed at the prospect. He 
wished, bowerer, for mj sake, that ever^ provocation 
ahould come from the marchioness ; and it is certain that 
mj resolution to marrj him, when it is known, will 
aeeore her numerous partixans, at least among the re- 
Imona hypocrites and social prudes of her own circle. 
& was right, I know, but I cannot endure to be called 
a woman of gallantry, and they will be sure to give me 
that reputation if I fear to acknowledge the whole truth/' 

** There is no doubt of it,** said Julian ; ** it is neces- 
•ary to acknowledge everything now, but your conduct, 
dear Julie, has precipitated this necessity. I adore you 
all the more for vour rashness, but it was my duty not to 
land myself to it. Love and fata have overcome my 
prudence, and made my self-sacrifice unavailing. It is no 
longer time to hesitate I Bless your children, my dear 
moUier 1 Julie entreats you, «-she wishes it ; and you, I 
know, will be as happy in giving us your blessing as we 
in receiving it.** 

While the inmates of the pavilion were thus indulging 
afiection, the marchioness had established herself 
in the drawing-room of the hotel, and was presiding at a 
rigidly conducted appraisement of both houses. Marcel 
fbught bravely for his dient, and the notary made hon- 
orable but useless efforts to reooncile the conflicting 
daims of the opposing parties. The conclusion finally 
arrived at was very mortifying to Marcel : it proved im- 
possible to save even Julie's fumiture from the claws of 
her enemy. The marchioness considered that she was 
dobg a great deal in allowing her to retain her diamonds 
andlacea. It was necessary to submit to these hard 
cooditioiia, fi»r the sale of the property could no longer 
.ba delayed, and no eompetitor had appeuad in the field. 
Mareel had writtao to onda Antoina, in hopea that ha 

ANTOJflA. 1^ 

, would tsk« & ttacj to tbo garden, and would Im^ it st k 
fair rate, in spito of hu duplsMiira ; but oado Antoine 
had mado no KQSwer. 

Thcro wu imlf aa honr of final diMnauoD otct Un 
draft of tbo ogrccmBOt ; a few eraanrct wero mada, aad 
■omo blanks filled. Tbo dowager aigiwd, and Mated, 
although Toiy diMonlonUdly, and with manj protoau, 
prepared to submit the paper to Jnlia for her aoc^t* 

"VThj ini't she bere?" cried the dowagvr, ahniptljr. 
'* Sbs ought to bo willing (o loavo her dear paviUoD fbra 
few minutes, to attend to such an important matter." 

" You will acknowledge, madam," obeerrod Hand, 
" that jou have not treated hfndam d'Estrello so kindlT 
as to make her particularly desirous to meet 70a again.* 

" Bah ! boh I She is mightjr touchy ! Come, lawyer 
Thierry, go and fetch her, — I am in haste to go ; and if^ 
on reading the agreement, she should bo disposed to raise 
objections, I, for my part, am not at oil disposed to anb- 
mit to delay. Lot hor oomo and talk it over here, — wa 
shall get through all the sooner. ^Vhat is she afraid off 
I have no further obscrrations to make on her coodncL 
Indeed, as things now stand, I cars very little about it, 
and I have not reproached lior eilhor. Did I say a aiogio 
word to her jugt now? If I havo ofieudcd her fbnneriy, 
it was becauso she chose to appeal to sentiments which I 
am not under any obligation to coiortain. Let her avoid 
recriminations, and I will promise not to humiUolo bar.* 

"If you will send hor a couciliatory massage," said 
Marcel, " expressed In polite and friendly language, I 
win do my best to porausdo her to come." 

"Besides," added tho notary, "the marchioDeas has 
no doubt soma arrangements to suggest beyond tbo roero 
terms of the agrcomont. She will, of conrae, allow 
Uodom d'Estrelle time to find a lodging, befbra vacating 
the hotel." 

"Certaialy, certainly I will," said the marchioaasi; 
" I intend to do so. Come, Master Thierry, go I " 

Maroel hurried to the paTiiioo, and persuaded Julie to 
ratora with him. He unaginad that the marohiBaaM, 



is her aatJifaction ot baring iiud« ■ good bargun, 
iriibad U> offer mdu litde reparation for her iU-nUurod 
conduct ; and he eppmlod to Julio'i generosity, ead par> 
hnpe to her prodeDce, not to reject the formal reconciii^ 
tioo which is cnUoauirjr in such casos. 

Th^ hod no lime to make any explanation to liarcel 
■t the parilioa. Julie, however, uid to Madam Thieny, 
■ iaalowTfrice, — 

**Toa know what my meani are now; mr incone 
ia vMTtautU, but, bjr selling mj jewels, we snoU hare 
asoon to purdiaae the house at Sdrree. I am a Boitable 
wauS, thvefore, for Jnlien, and I am thankful that the 
a&ir has terminated in this waj." 

The marchionese ooDcoakd her impatience at being 
kepi waiting for a few minutes, and beggod Julie to reod 
the agreement, and sign it, with something like polite . 
BCM. Julie took np the pen, bat, hearing nothing of 
the friendly demonstrations that Marcel had led hor to 
anticipate, she hesiuted a little, and looked at the notary 
as if asking his odTice. The deference that this ■kow<^ 
did not escape the quick perception of llie lawyer, who 
iUt a deddod sympathy for her. 

"This is the proper time," he said to his barah old 
diant, " to state (o Madam d'Estrelle your kind intentions 
abont taking poasesiion under the agreement." 

"Ah, oh yes, undoubtedly," said the marchioneas; 
" I wish to take possession of the hotel at once j lo-mor> 
row, at iarthesL I will allow madatn, however, the use 
tX tiie pavilion for three or four months." 

**T1m pavilion?" said Marcel, in sorprise. "The 
pKvilion is leased. The marchioness is surely aware 
'that it is occupied under a nine yean* lease." 

" Thf lease is void, VL. Thierry, for I did not sign it ; 
and, by the terms of my marriage settlement, the Mar- 
qnis d Estrelle eoold not disposa of his proporty in any 
way wUbont my sinotore." 

"Then Madam Thieny will have to novo, and wilboat 
obtaining an indemnity." 

*'I aia oony ftr her, bat yoa knowaqr marriaga coo- - 


tract bjr heart. Look at the Icom, nod yoa will sm that 
it is Toid." 

Sho look tbo lease out of her pocket, and showed it 
to him. Ho cxamiaed it, and was silent. 

" What is the matter 7 " said the marcliioDCSS, laaghinj 
at Slarcel's coostcroalioD. *'Tho couot«ss will still be 
in a conditioD to mako up to Undam Thierry for this 
little annoyoDCO. Oao docs not rcckoQ closely with one'* 

" You are quite, right modamc," answered Jalie, with 
dignity ; " and I ihaok you for affording mo an oppor- 
tunity of proving my dcvolioQ to Madam Thierry. I 
decline your very kind ofTor. Madam Thierry and I 
will leave your prcmiacs together, within an hour." 

" Togclhcr? " said the marchioness. '■'■ It is otmeo- 
essary to be so open about it as that, madam 1 " 

Jdlic was upon the point of replying, whco a vigorou 
ring at the door of the aale-chamber startled the mar- 
ch iuocfs. 

" Well, well, let us hayo no useless quarrelling," iha 
said, suddenly changing her tone ; " there are somo vtu- 
tors, — sign, ray dear, and be done with it." 

Just ot this moment, the vnlot do chomhre entered to 
announce somebody, and sho cried out, — 

"Say that tve caa eoo do one just now. Lei Ihoin 

" Pardon mo, madam," intemipted Julie, offendod at 
this Bssumptioa of dignity in her prcseoGo, " it la my 
house yet." 

Marcel, who had noticed the sudden impatleDCo of tha 
marchioocBB, fell impelled by a vague, but irresistiblo im> 
pulse, to gaiD time. He took the pen out of Julie's hand*, 
rhe marchioness turned pale. Marcel saw iL 

"Shall I announce?" inquired the servant of Julio. 

"Yesl" oxcloimcd Horccl, vehemently, for ho had 
espied the Ttsitor's face tlirough the half-open door. 

" Yes," repeated Julio, agitiUad becatuo sho aaw Uai- 
eel's oxdtemant. 

'* M. Aatoine Thimy 1 " aaid th* aarraat, in a load 


Jalla, In anipriM, aroM. The msrchioDeu. who ww 
■Undiag, Mt down with ui aogiy ([estiira. The Uorti* 
cnkwiil oma io, ombMT»M«d and awkward as uaual, 
bet eainriitg u high u ercr that irucible face of hia, 
wUeh alwHyt, with lu noolnta, hooghtj cxpnuioo, god- 
tnilod ao ■tmogcij with his tiioid manner. Without 
•xoeily solotiDg any ono, and odvaneiDg in a us-ug 
covrMi but Toiy qoickljr, he west op to the table whoro 
loj the contract, with the inkstand boudo it. Then ho 
- tvned to JuUe i 

** Han /on just been coDclodiDg some transoctioo 7 " 
he said, in an ongrf tone, and jet with a certain ezpres* 
iiM of ooziotj and solicitude. 

" Nothing at all is coocladed," answered Marcel, " iioce 
70a have got here. Poseiblj jon may bare some offer 
le make, nnde." 

** No one ceo moke any offer," cried the msrchionost, 
In n great slate of excitement ; '* the bargain is closed. 
I appoal to the good faith— " 

"Good loith has nothing to do with it, madam," said 
lUreel ; " we were just about Bubmittiog (0 extremely 
bard conditions. No one can blame a criminal coodemDMl 
to death, 00 matter how reeifi^oed ha might bo, for oo- 
eepiing % pardon that reached him unoxpectodly. Come, 
nnde; yon have a Toocy for the hotsL d'Estrelle. I 
ema say ntore than that : yoo need it ; you can remova 
the bonndoiy wall, and m^a a splendid addition to your 
garden. The hotel de Melcy b cold, old, gloomy, aod 
badly sitnated. Iliis hoosa is cboerfnl ond agreoable ; 
eo^ in sammar, wonn is winter. Yon want iL Yon 
BoontobnyiL Don't yon?" 

"This is infamotis," criod the marchioness. "The 
ooosent of the eouateu is equivalent to a signatare. No 
«aa ever withdraw fVom a promise so late as this I " 

" Fordon ma, madam, retorted Uorcel, " yon had 
loir warning, I waited np to the reiy lost raomont ; I 
t«rid yon three times orer, while we were discnsaing, that 
if tba door stwald open that moment, and any other pui> 
dMoar whotarar should appear, I would at once tear np 
lUs ngraiMsnl, which I eonsidar on altogether deplonbU 


onaformjrclioDl. lonlrmbmiUed,— I^noteooMatt 
I appeal to 107 collsagne hen to witam thai it wmt n. 
Uaclo, ^u oro joarsolf « rocogausd snlhori^ in bui> 
Dcu irEDsactiou. 807, h»T« I tha right to pat « atop to 
further procMdiDga nntU 70a shaU han baa aa oppor> 
tiinit7 lo speak?" 

" Cert&iDl7," anawarod M. Antoina ; " and tha mora 
•0, aiacs 1117 rigbti in tha mattar tak« praeedence orcr 
thoH or the mBTcbionau. Let'a aoa what Ibia iubv 
mont is 1 " 

He rend it, and obMrred,— 

" This is not mj appraiMment at all, manliioiMH ; 
you plack the bird iooGlosa,andobU(«ino tomnind joa 
of oarliltlo audorstanding." 

**Go on, sir; moko jam bid I" cried tha dowagw; 
" I can't coDtcnd with a man that poasosoa millioni. 
I withdraw alto^ther, and Icaro the field to 7on<" 

" Wait, wait 1 " ropUcd Antoioe ; " 700 and I can come 
to an undenlaoding in balf a word, madam ! I cao ar> 
range this affair in a wa7 lo BatiBf7 all parties. But it 
depends upon jon. " 

" Never I " cried the marchioness, indignantly ; ** 70a 
aro a, fool, and I am ashamed to have accepted jronr asr* 
yiccs 1 " 

She went straight out of the room, forgetting all about 
her lawyer. Antoiuo, with his face tnmed towards tba 
door through which sh« hod departed, remained ailentt 
darkly frowning, and plunged ia soma mTstoriona madi' 

" They hare an nndcrstandlng against me," whiapared 
Julie to Marcel ; " what am the7 going to do now ? " 

" Ilaro patience," answered Unreel ; " I think I can 

They had no time for further obsonrations. U. An* 
toine started from his rovcrlo, and turned to tha lawyer. 

'• Well," he said, " how do we stand? What baa boen 

" So far as I am concerned, monsieur," replied the 
notaiy, gathering up his papers, and looking for his qm> 
taclas, •* tbe transactions between yonrseliand tha ma^ 

174 antonia: 

duonaisareaianeDd. M7 dient seems to have giyen op 
the object she was in pursuit oFi and I must take Qeir 
orders from her before moving further in the matter.'' 

^Tben it is entirelj between you and me?" said M. 
Antoine to Julie, while the notarj was taking his de- 

^ No, monsieur,'' she said, referring him to Marcel ; 
^I beg permission to leave you together." 

** But why?" asked Antoine, in a strange sort of heart- 
broken tone, and making a gesture as if to detain her, 
although without venturing even to touch her sleeve. 
** Whv are 70U angry with me, Madam d'EIstrelle? All 
that I have done has been in your interest. Why will 
jou not let me tell vou so?" 

** Very true," said Marcel ; " why should she refuse ? 
Come, madam, have patience, and listen ; it seems to be 
oar lot to have to face the enemy along the whole line to- 

Julie resumed her seat, casting upon M. Antoine a 
cold and severe look, which completely disconcerted him. 
He hesitated, stammered, and uttered only unintelligible 

^ Come," said Marcel, ** you will never get it out, my 
poor undo 1 Let me cross-question yon. To' begin at 
the beginning : why was it that you mysteriously left 
Riris on the morning after a certain tragic experience 
which befell one of your plants?" 

^What, are you going to talk about that?" cried 
Antoine, his little round eyes beginning to flash furi« 

** Yes, about everything. Answer, or I will carry off 
the judge, and you will remain condemned." 

** Condemned to what?" said Antoine, looking towards 
Julie ; *Mo her hatred?" 

Maieel was trying to bring his uncle to acknowledge 
Us jrepentance, but, in ^ite of his signs to the contrary. 
Madam d'EstreUe interrupted him. 

^ No, monsieur," she said, ** to my blame and pi^.** 

^Toor ^Ijl Pity ftr mel" he eried, in a rage. 



** No ono ever naed tlutword to dm befimt vaA If 70a 

were Dot r womon — " 

IIo pnoBcd, RDd (artied to Murcel : 

" Fitj ie onotlier word for coDtempt," Iw aaid ; " and 
if it is bj your advice that she talks to me so, FU Buke 
yon p*y well for il." 

" Tlien justify yourself if yon can," answei«d Uaroel, 
boldly ; " for if your conduct has really been as tnaehep- 
ous as it seems, yon are simply a detestable man, and 
ereiy honorable woman whom yon hare inanlted has a 
right to tell yon so." 

" How hare I insulted her? I have insulted nobody* 
I saw that she was going to throw hsrsolf away, I 
wanted to kocp her from — " 

"Throw herself awayl Yon don't knowwhat you ara 
talking about. There ura certain dangen that a woman 
like Madam d'Estrclle never knows, by which she cannot 
be MAailed." 

"Words I Words I I don't troqble myself, abont 
phrases learned out of books. When a wonua gives 
rendezvous to a young man — " 

" KendcsvouB? Whore did yon pick np such iioD> 
sense ? Whoever told you that, is a liar I " 

" You are a liar yourself I You, the acoompUoe, the 
confidant^ " 

" There, stop, uncle I Damnation I Yon will drire 
tno bcyoud all bounds." 

" Get beyond all bounds, if you wont to I I aaw yoa 
coming out of the theatre with my own eyes." 

"And what of that? Sly wife — " 

" Bab 1 Your wife is a goose I I saw Jnlien coming 
out loo." 

" Julion was not with us. IIo did not know that w« 
were on the grouod-floor in Uie theatre any more than 
we knew that he was in the gallery. And, besides, sup- 
pose he hod been with us, what is the meaning of thif 
mania for bringiD<{ accusations — " 

" Accusations I " cried M. Antolne. " I accuse »>• 
body except those who are guilty I And how abool 
walkmg aim-io-arm in the night firom th« hot*! d'Oi^ 


mondo to the payiliooi where, hj the way, madam 
remained until three o'clock ia the moniiog? It is poa- 
•iUe that Madam ADdr6 may have been present during the 
imenriew, I don't deny that ; but that is only an additional 
reason for bringing accusations, as you say, you ass of a 
lawyer I And how about all the meetings at night in the 
garoen, that always keep her out until two o'dock, and 
aometimes later?'* 

^ Where on earth did you pick up this footman's scan- 
dal?" cried Marcel. ** In what servants' hall have you 
raked together such a heap of slanders?" 

^ I don't hang about servants' halls, and I don't got 
my information from footmen. I have a secret police of 
my own. I have money enough to pay a few sharp peo* 
pie, who keep on the look-out, and tell me the truth. I 
don't deny it. I wanted to know what madam's feelings 
were, and what her reason was for insulting me by com- 
missioning Julien to turn me off. I had a right to do so, 
and if I revenged myself as I could, I had a right to do 
that too." 

Madam d'Estrelle, who had fully resolved to reveal 
everything, and take the consequences, listened to uncle 
Antoine with proud indifference. The brutality of his 
discourse,— -which she attributed to a diseased mind, and 
excused on account of his want of education, — did not 
wound her like the intentional and deliberate impertinence 
of the marchioness. While his uncle was making his 
agreeable remarks. Marcel observed her, and, in her dis- 
dainful and smiling serenity, read a denial of his slan* 
ders more eloquent than any words. 

**Look," he cried, actually shaking the old man to 
make him hold his tongue, ** look for a moment at the 
woman whose reputation you are daring to assail I See 
how superior she is to the dreams and lies with which 

CM have been crammed I Yon cannot bring the faintest 
nsh to her forehead ; her silence confounds your noisy 
brutality I" 

^ I shall speak when the time comes," said Julie. 
^ Lei M. Thierry go oo« Toa see that he does not pro- 
foko me \ aad| after he has Adl|y exposed my eondu^ I 


shall expect him to give me an aoooont of his. Yoa an 
aufferiDg under my just iadigDationi Mbosienr Antoine 
Thierry : do not forget that. You pretend that you are 
innocent. It remains for you to prove your assertion.** 

The old man was silenced for a momenti but he qoicUy 
recovered himself. 

** Very well," ho said, <* despise me if you ehooae. I 
shall be able to bear up under vour contempt easily 
enough. My own good opinion will be sufBcnent for me. 
I have been angry, it is true enough. I have spokeQ 
about you in an^r, and have tried to revenge mysw. I 
shall deny nothmg that I have done. J^A yet I do 
not hate you, — it only depends on yoa to have ma fiMr a 

'* Confess before you beg for absolution,'' cried Mar* 
eel ; ** what has happened? what have you been doing? 
Tell us." 

** What has happened ? This is what has happened. 
Mordi I Chance helped me to gratify my anger. The 
Dowager d'Estrolle applied to me to do her a service. 
Two or three days bcforo hor husband's death I was asked 
to call upon her. I had known her long ago in connec- 
tion with some land that she sold me, and cheap enough 
too. She was not so good a business woman then as now. 
Well, I went. She said to me : * My husband cannot 
last long, as every one knows. I am his heir, but I will 
not pay his son's debts unless the countess surrenders her 
dower to me, and I want to buy up the debts so as to 
force her to do this. Furnish mo the money, and you 
shall have part of tlio spoils. I will pay you for the ae« 
commodation.' So I answered : * Pardon me, madam ; 
I want myself to show that lady that she is in my power ; 
but I want, also, to be in a position to forgive her if I 
should choose.' Says sho: *Ah, what I What have 
you against her?' And says I: * Just what I have.' 
* But what is it?' * No matter.' * Tell mo— ' and so 
forth. In short, to come to an end of the matter, from 
one word to the other, I did finally tell hor the whole 
story ; I said that I had wanted to be a friend to the 
countess, and had been treated like a pirate, and that the 



. ntuaa wu ahft lud been Infloenced by Um intrisou of 
Madamo Andri ThieriTi wbo w«nted to nwriy ner wn 
to a gr««t Udjr, ont of vanitjl aod to get oth«n in tha 
aaoH fix with heneir, — lik« tho fox who hod hU toil cut 
off, ia tho atonr. Tho marchioiwsa wu pleased to find 
out all thU, aod aha led me on to say porliapi more than 
I meaot to, eapecialljr aa I found it agreeable to tell bar 
•bout my tioublea. Finally, when ihe bad got it all oat 
of me, abe loid i ' U. Tbieny, wo must lot this splendid 
matriaga go on ; it suita mo I ' And said I : * But it 
doeaa't loit me I ' 'What I Id love at your age ? — an* 
giy? — jaalousi — who would hare believed it?' 'No, 
madam, I am not in lore at my age ; but at my age one 
doea not like to be fooled, and I have boea fooled. I am 
not a bad man, bat I bare power, and I mean it to be 
miderstood. It does not snit me to proceed against her 
myself; but, if it amosea you to torment her, do it ; plagua 
her well 1 When you have got through, if sh« auu my . 
pardon, I will forgive her.' 'Very good,' the marchioness 
■aid, 'I swear to abide by this anderstonding with yoa in 
good failh ; so advance mo tho money. Here is my 
note of hand, and you have \aj word besides.' She sent 
ibr me aoain after the old marquis was buried. I hod 
pleoty of flno stories by that time about the doingn in this 
Bouao i I told her all of them, and the idea of i>rin;;ing 
down tho prido of tho connloss ploasod us both. Tho 
dowager said to mo tlieni 'How, revenge yonnelf; I 
meaa to follow her to the ntlarmost.' Dut I always aiH 
•wored i * Oo on, but keep me informed. I shall redoom 
the'property, tf sho will reform.' Now yoa andontand ; 

dowager dooolved me, but I got here in ttmo. 
That braaks up alt my arrangements with her. Sho is a 
eraftr woman, but she shall pay ma for it, — that's all I ** 
" Yon have not told tha whole, uncle. Thoro was some 
oUwr qoestiea disensMd between you. Yon said to bar 
joatBow, tltoalydapaBdiBpoByoatoarrangaaU thaaa 

**<^ tbat^s my boaiaais. It baa BOthlmt to do with 



V Excuse mo ; and in whmt an angrf Umm iha an- 
swered, Never I " 
'< She's an old fool 1 " 
** But reallj, what did she mean? ^ ' 
** Why ? Go to the devil, will 70a ? Mind toot own 
business I " 

** Confess the truth, then ; you have some oUier pco- 
ject on foot." 
** I tell you I have not." 
Marcel persisted that he had, 

** It b all perfectly clear to me, unde,^ ho said ; ^ on- 
able to marry a countess, you took it into your head to 
marry a marchioness. In fact, it was a much more rea- 
sonable plan than your first one : the age and the fortane 
of the marchioness are suited to yours ; but I see that yon 
• hare failed in that quarter also. She encouraged yon, 
lured you oo, for the soke of obtaining a little money ; 
and all the wiiile she was working secretly, and without 
your knowledge, to get possession of the property of the 
countess. If you liad come a few minutes later, she 
would have accomplished her designs, and you would 
neither have been married nor revenged." 

Antoine listened to this expostulation with his bead 
down. He seemed to be meditating ; but from under his 
eyebrows he looked at Madam d'Estrelle, and saw her 
surprise, and the ironical smile which she could not concoaU 
**As for not being- married to that sharper of an old 
woman," he said at last, rising, ** I thank God for my 
escape. But as for my revenge, I intend to have iu 
The devil shall not rob me of it." 
''What is it to bo?" said Julie, calmly. 
^^^Who said that it was going to be against you?** 
cried uncle Antoine, whose tongue always broke loose 
when there was least occasion to expect it; *^I have 
known throe women in my life, and they have all laughed 
at me, as if I were a little boy. Women indeed I Tliey 
don't know any better I The first was Madam Andri 
Thierry, who called me her brother and friend, and so 
gave me confidence. Ton were the second, — you who 
called me your good friend and dear neighbor, so as to 


get mo to give your lover a fortane ; and the third, —-oh I 
that one edled me her dear monsieur aod her ezooUeat 
creditory— - and she is the worst of all the three, for she 
onlj wanted to pluck me, — the miserly old thing I Con- 
aeqoently I shall make her pay for both the others. As 
fiir yoOf Madam d'Estrelle, I pardon and excuse you 1 
Love makes people commit groat follies, bnt, at all orentSi 
it Is love ; a sort of infatuation which, as it would seem, 
eonfttooo the brain and disables the reason. So be it, 
madam I Give me your firiendship again, and do not 
talk any longer of marrying either mo or iht other one. 
I wish you nothing but good ; and I shall prevent you from 
having my nephew the painter, because my nephew the 
painter has not done what was right bv mo, and because 
It Is not suitable for you to many a pamter.** 

** There, then I ** interrupted Marcel, ** you were just 
beginning to talk sense, and now your mania has seizod 
you again. You seem to bo really insane upon that 
point. Who the devil su;rgested it to you ? '* 

^It Is time for this discussion to end," said Julio; 
^ yon and I, M. Marcel, do not understand each other. 
Perfectly sincere in my Intentions, — which I avowed 
plainly enough in your presence to the marchioness, — I 
am tired of seeming to foign. Listen to mo, thoroforo : I 
declare to both of you, tliat my marriage to Julion Thierry 
is agreed upon and sworn to beyond recall. Tes, Marcel, 
Toa are to be my cousin I Yes, M. Antoine, you are to 
be my uncle I AH your Information was perfectly cor- 
rect, and yon can pay your spies liberally. And now 
that I have made this declaration, yon will understand 
that I must withdraw the harsh expressions that I have 
used In referring to your conduct towards me. What- 
ever that eondoet mav have been, respect for a kinsman 
wiO keepmesUent. Yon are freetoabuse me, to shmder 
me, to rob me. I will not reply, bat neither will I en- 
treat your forbea r an c e. I have done nothing for which 
to ask vonr fiMrgiveness, and. If yon reduce me to poverty, 

EwUi only Increase my esteem and gratitude towards 
who, even under saeh eirwimeranoes, is willing to be 
aqr foardiaa and pcoCeeCor.'' 

ANToirrA. iSt 

Harcel wu too mrpriMd to tpeak. HIi undo looked 
■t tiim with KB oxprouion of triamph ; bat whan h« mw 
how genaios his uCooiahmoDt was, bo beeuoo mon 
gloomy ond irriialed thuD BTor at tho idoft ot btaa^ doSad 
to his fftco by MaJnm d'Estrelle. 

"It is dedded, thoD," bo saJd^ riaiag; "jroa an »• 
BoWcd : yon will not OTsn liston to my flul propon- 


" By no means," cried Marcel. " State them. For 
my piul, I do not approre Madam d'EatrcUe's detail 
mmatioD, and I doclara to yon plainly that I shall opfMoo 
this mon-insa with all my power. Spook, uncle ; fliF> 
nish mo with nrgiimcnts." 

"You aro right, for once," said M. Antoine; "bub 
aho don't tliiok so 1 Sco how contomptaooa she ia ; aoe 
with what na obstinoto, scoraful look she turns hor hood 
away I — Oh, sha is worthy la bo tho nioco of my-aiato 
in-lnw, — alio will treat mo just as sho'did 1 Toll hor your, 
aeir, Marcel, what I proposo to do, provided sho will giro 
up her dauber of tulips 1 I will givo her a roloaso from 
all her debts ; I wilt Icaro her in possossion of her hotel, 
her garden, her pavilion, her diamonds, her form da 
Beauvoiais; in short, of all hor properly." 

" Slay, stay I " aaid MorccI to Juiie, as she was abont 
\o reply. 

'* No," exclaimed Julie ; " I will accept nothing from 
a person who speaks of Julion and Madam Thiony with 
such aversion and coatempt. I do not miod tho 11^017 
ho has done mo. I pardon mousienr for having ex* 
posod me to the aarcasma and lusulta of the marchionesa, 
and her circle ; but the enemies of those whom I Ion 
can noTor be my fHends, and I reject their benefits aa 
on insult." 

" Wait, wait until you hear all I " cried H. Antoine, 
stomplag upon tho floor. "Aro you possossod by a devil 7 
You t hiuk I mean to ruin your friends. Not at all ; I shall 
give them tho house at S6vrcs, which belongs to me yet, 
if you please ; I will secure them an incomo and a good 
port of my iaheritance, for my property b to be divided 
among youraelf, Julian, and this auof a lawyer herol I 

l8i ANTOJfU. 

prapoM to nulw jon all rich uid bappf , oa ono single 
coaditioa; And tbkt U, thAt tho pavilion be Tuated ii^ 
•Ually, umI UhU 7011 «I1 ewoBr upon jour lionor, and 
■ign Tonr nunei to tho ontfa, that Madam d'Estrello will 
iWTBr Ma Julian again." 

Thia tima it was Jnlie who was Blruek dumh. AI< 
thon^ then was reallj something of insanity in this 
inezwablo old man, thcro was also a sort of fierce grao- 
danr in the magnificotit way in which he accepted any 
aacrifica iMCeMaiy to hcots the success of his jealousy. 
He showed great shrawdness, moreover, in putting 
Madam d'Estielle in a position whore, if she ventured 
to eppooe him, Julian's iaicroets, Miulom Thierry's, 
'and Uarool'a, m>nld be sacrificed. Marcel, however, d<H ' 
termined not to bo made use of in any way, haslaned to 
reply, with great dignity and nobility : 

** Undo," he said to M. Autoino, " you will make 
ndi ftitare arrangements in regard to me as you xaa,y 
see flu Ton know me too well to imagine that any ex- 
pectations of the kind would weigh against my con- 
Bcienoe. I said, a moment ago, that I did uot approve of 
Madam d'Estrelle's detennination, and it will be my duty 
to sahmit to her certain suggestions upon the subject. 
Sut understand me at once : if she is not persuaded by 
nyargnments, I shall never hint to her Ihot her resistance 
hM injured me with you ; my conduct shall never be 
influenced by a regard for my own inlercsls. Lastly, if 
. abe aad Joben shall persut in their intention of marry- 
ing, X will assist them in every possible way with my 
•dvloa, my services ; I will be eternally their firiend, 
their kinsman, and their obedient serTant. 

Julio silently hold out her hand to the lawyer. Her 
•yes were fuU of tears. She looked at Antoino, bat 
could read nothing but immovable obstinacy in his homy 
•od eopper>colorea visago. 

** Lm us go to Madam ThioriT and Julico," she said, 
risiag ; " it IS for them to decide.'' 

"Not hf any means I " cried U. Aotoine. " III have 
BO Cde takso imawanB. At fliet, I know very well that 
tbi pnialar win play tka siMt aaa, aad ttufc Ua vMiktt 



will put on Iicr grand aira. Besides, thciyirill bo ashnnuid 
to yield before madomo : it will not da to lie lew 
proud tiinn siie \ nllhough \\yej npent an hour aftar- 
warda, the/ will say oxtietljr what abe does. I will wut 
for mjr answer until to-morrow, and I will oome here to 
recoive it. In the moonwliilc, Uwyer, cany mj flpal 

Jin^KMilion to jrour prot^g6cs, and jou, 1117 bCHUtiflil 
nend, reflect upon it also. We shall see whether 700 
four will agree to rofiuo both my present gifts. Mid wj 
future boqnesU. Good-da/, Uadam d'Estrella. To- 
morrow, at this place, at ooon I " 

As he wont out, Julie, pale and exhausted, fell ba^ 
upon her chair. He returned a moment after be bod 
gone out of the room, aod looked in at her. Cartain 
that he hod succeeded in brooking dovra erea bar pride 
and courage, he departed in triumph. 


I^ABCEL was a prudent man ; this was his nataral 
^^ disposition, nod his profcuioool career had strengtb- 
encd it. It is poasiblo to be both practical and gonerons. 
It was under Iho iDQiicnco of both these sentiments 
tliat lie considered the position of tho two lorars, and 
argued with Julio, 

" ilodnm," he said, taking her hand with an oSbo- 
tionate good*will, in which there was nothing oSenttiTO, 
*' to begin with, I must be lofl out of tho account in this 
whole business. Provided Julion and Iits mother are as 
courageous and de^-oted as you arc, instead of dissuading 
tliem from making the sacrifice in question, I shall ndmiro 
it. And, at tho outset, do itot exaggerate the eonsequeaces 
of your present determination upon tlie future. M. Aih 
toine is undoubtedly a man of bis word ; both in good and 
OTil ke does as ho agreos. It is impossible, however, to 
coqjectnre anytliing about the provisions of his will, aiaee 
lia may numrf at as; mo men t . It is osrtaial; atnaga to 

■8l AirroNiA. 

•Man oU bachelor, — 'Abater of women waA of love,— 
Mii«d, In hia dediDing yoare, with a rage for matrimony. 
But for the vory rooion that it ia a tort of moaomoDin, no 
prombet or rawlatiou thai ho mar mako will sare him. 
Ho will flod, without doubt, what no ii looking for j aomo 
woman with a title, no mattar whether young or old, ro- 
qiactahle orotherwiBe,hand>omoor ngl;, will be tempted 
ay hia money, and will get pououion of all bis estate. 
"aSa rimplifiei the question, since we need not take the 
" ' ioD of tbe propertj among ourselves into cou- 
We can onljr reckon on present arrangements 
aa cartain ; and in these, jrou know, I urn not a part/. 
Let ns examine, then, the questions inunediotolj before 
va. Those are impoilaQt enough. I know uncle An- 
tdiut ; he will do what he propose* vrithia tneoty-fonr 
boors, or not at all, Ue will come hore to-morrow with 
bis papers all readf , — draiUd b/ himself; and, is spite 
of Iha rudeness of his strle, not one iota retiuisiio to make 
them pcrfectljr valid in uw (which he UQderstaqds Itettor 
than I do) will be omitted. It is bjr no means likely that 
Ton will be required to make a formal rupture with this 
or that person, — such a stipulation would bo strooge and 
nnkoown to the law, — but jron will hare to bind youi^ 
aelf not to maiiT again without M. Antoine's consent, 
and a claoaa in the grant will make it revocable in case 
yon violate this condition. It would be in vain, there- 
fore, to hope to evade the proposed agreomont ; and, in 
any event, your cbaractar is a sufficient guarantee that 
you wonld not think of attempting such a thing." 

** Yqu are quite ri^t, my fKend," said Julie, with a 
■i^ ** I will never make a promise without keeping it," 

** Very well, then," eontinnod Uareal, " the project snb- 
sdlted to OB Is nnpreeedented ; but it has actually been 
isrmed, it cannot be evaded, and it wilt determine the 
destiny of two persona most dear to you,— Julien and 
hia mother. I myself, as I ezplalBad, am not involved 
la this bniinsss. Ton are bound to consider it moct so* 
tiooslr. Do you profor to think it over by yourself, or 
■qrls^plauIytoyM all tbatlwoold have. said, if 


7<Hi had Dud« m« your cpnfidttnt befim tlw ^ppaanaei 

oFM. Antoiao?" 

" Oo on, Marcol ; it u boat to toll oo nil." 
" Lot us BuppoH thoD, nuulain, that It. Antolno, Is 
■pile of Ilia angor, moke* 7011 a bettor olTor tb«n tlio nur> 
cfaioneu : your moaos will oven then bo T017 modMmto ; 
you will luivs, perhspa, an iocomo of two or throa tboiH 
sand francs a year 1 Yon marry Jnlion, who has DOthing 
to depend npon except his labor; yon will bar* duU 
dren, and you will bare Madam Thierry to anpport. 
Vou will be able to koep a maid for her, a nurso for your- 
self, and o maD-of-oll-work, — unless Julioo himself layM 
dowa liis brush to do tlio drud^ry that is neccsaoij ovoa 
in tbo most modest household. Yon will live respectably, 
no doubt, for Julien will work ; Madam Thiorry will kmt 
all tho stockings of the family, and you will be econom- 
ical. You can afford ona silk dress, and will commonly 
wear calico. You will go about on foot ; you can't eveo 
allow yourself a bow of ribbon without counting on your 
Jingen to sco if you can afford it. That is tbo wsiy my 
wifo began when I bought my practice, and I assure yoa, 
madam, that wo did not c^joy it much, although wo wero 
Teiy fond of each other. My wife was not a frirolouo 
woman ; we had never been in easy circumatancoo, and 
were unacquainted with luxury. \V'e knew voiy well 
how to bo sparing, but we woro both of us troubled. Mj 
wife was anxious at seeing me working half tho night, 
and running about at all hours and in all weatbora, tired 
to dealli, and with a cold in tho head. I was anxious at 
seeing her shut up without fresh air and good food, and 
harnessed, without intermission, to tho housework and to 
her responsibilities as a mother. This solicitude for each 
other was a constant and wooring burden. I giro yoa 
my word, that the more wo loved each other £e mora 
tormented we were, and prevented from alloying real 
happiueu. We lost onr first two children. Ono wo 
were obliged to put out to nurse in the eountnr, and it 
was not well cored for ; the other we tried to bnng up at 
homo, and it died in conseqnenco of tbo bad air of Puis, 
l<tgMhar with thit &ebU health whioh it iabnitAd iioiii ita 


' mother. If we heye ooDtrired to keep our third alive, it 
Is becaoeet bj eoonomj and iodoBtiy, wo have succeeded 
in making ourselves a uttle more comfortable. At present 
we are oontentedy and arc qnite well off; but we are forty 
years old, and we have suffered a great deal I Our youth 
was always a warfare, and often a martyrdom. Such is 
the life m a poor citisen in Paris, madam ; and that of a 
poor artist is harder still, because his profession is far less 
sure than mine. People are always having questions of 
business to decide that bring them to a lawyer ; they are not 

. always in want of pictures, and most people care nothing 
about them. They are superfluities. Julien will never 
amass a fortune, as his father did. His talents and his 
character, perhaps, will bo more highly estimated, but he 
* has not the amiable frivolity, — the social tastes and bril- 
liant manners necessary to make him a favorite in cer- 
tain circles, which, when they fall in love with an artist, 
have the power to bring him forward, and insure his rep- 
utation and success. Xou must remember that my uncle 
Andri would never have gained the position he hold, in 
spite of his genius, if he had not been a capital singer, a 
great wit, and a good story-teller ; and moreover, if cer- 
tain .firivolous but influential ladies had not, at various 
times, tempted him from his allegiance to his wife. He 
adored her, notwithstanding ; but he used to say, confiden- 
tially and very frankly, that he must deceive her a little 
once in a whUe, for his own advantage. You turn pole ; 
Julien will never follow that example, for it belongs to a 
past age. But even if Julien should create cAe/^Pauvrei 
of art, he will always bo poor. The world does not run 
after modest merit, nor does it take the trouble to seek 
after unknown virtue. His marrying you will, it is true, 
make some noise,-* it will be a little scandal that will do 
^ something towards bringing him into notice. That was 
the case with his fathers marriage, but, as I said, the 
times are changed. Nowadays people are more austere, 
-^or more hypocritical,— than in tlM time of Madame de 
la Pompadour. And then the same thing never succeeds 
twice over. Pbople will say, *That jroun^ fellow has 
been tiyiag to ape Us fatber/ sAd you will farmg him more 


enemlos than wotecton. Agunst pm ther* will b« a 
great oulcrj. 1 io not atippoM that tha old marebioiMM 
will try to bare jou thrown ioto a convent, and Julioa into 
the Boatile, for tha crime of mfiuUianoe, for aho boa 00 
authority over 70a j bat ahe will do you even greater 
harm by talking agungt yon, while yon will not have a 
rigorous persecution to help make you interoetlng. Yon : 
am well known ai a pereon of virtoooe character, asi 
that very fact will make tho feeling against you mora 
Tiolent and imphicnblo. All tha old pn^as will go about 
saying that such mamagos are becoming altog^ar too 
common, — that they must bo put down, and utterly di^ 
countenanced. £von tho litoraiy pooplq, — and sotneof 
them are good friends of Julian, — will not dare defend 
you. They ifaemselvos belong to good society nowadays ; 
instead of being persecuted, tbcy are fclcd and corosaod ; 
Paris is excited yet OTcr tho triumph that was granted to 
M. dc Voltaire after his long oxilo. People laugh at 
Jean Jacques Bousseau for fancying himself the victuii 
of a conspiracy ; ho could haro lived, they sapr, comfort- 
ably and respectably, if it bad not been for hia sour di^ 
position and diseased mind. The pbilosopbera take tha 
wall of everybody now, and they are very careful no 
longer to attack people's prejudices ; while those who re- 
main of the great cmaado of freo-thinkors will neither - 
mend their pens nor open their mouths fur the sake of 
defending you against tho verdict of the drairing-rooms. 
And all these cowardly insults will strike Julian. Ha 
win live in constant uneasiness and apprehension ; he 
will qnarrcl with all his friends, and probably will flgfat 
soma of them — " 

" Euougb, enough, Marcel," cried Jnlio, woeping, " I 
see plainly how foolish I have been 1 1 have taken counsel 
of a selfish passion, or rather hnvo acted without undei^ , 
standing social necessities. I see now what n burden 
I should be to Julicn ; that his marriage to mc would 
expose him to constant danger, and fill hia whole life with 
bitterness. Ah, Marcel, yoo have broken my heart I 
But it was your duty to do so, and I esteom you tho mora 
for your oonrage. Oo and tell Julian that Iwish corao* 



of mi 

bnlwB. Man Dimt I How can I tell him 

**Jiilianiriniiot boliarajoo. E>gar tomffer for your 
Hk*, bo will hbO* M yonr gntarona magiuuiinutj. He 
bM eonrue, and force of character, end I hare no donbt 
thet he edona 70a. If 700 coneiilt him ho will inatMillj 
rr, ' Let ne he tnie to oar lore et whaterer ooet, in spita 
f miaeiy, In ai^te of peneention 1 * He will hare no 
miigiTiiigi about bimaelf ; and his mother, — who ie ae 
oo or ageooi and diunterested aa he ie, ^ wilt uphold him 
In bis determination. But imagine Julian a rear or 
two hanoe, when he •eos his mother saflTeriDg I It a hj 
u>bea(d«f eflbrts even now that he keepe her from actual 
poreitT ; and in sptto of him and of heraolf, — iu apite of 
aU their mutoal forbearanco, ^ there can be no doubt that 
aba does aatttt. Madam liiierTj is an enthusiast, not a 
stoie. She was not brought up to aoj emplojmeut, and all 
•ho is fitted for is to sit oomfortablj in her arm-chair and 
knit or reed. Besides, her health was Blwaya delicate. 
She ooold oarer stand ou her feet until midnight to finish 
inning her aoa's shirts, as mf wife could do ; her preuj 
hands know as little about hard work ns yoois. How 
will it be, then, when Julien shall hare a wife and chil- 
dren ? Ho will reproach himself with jour nnhappinees ; 
and if remorse oooe gain admiseion into so proud a boon 
as his, brewell to courage, and perhaps eren to the 
ahilitj to work io his profession 1 " 

" Mydear Marcel, I told jon thotjou had said enough. 
Adnse me ; direct me. Grire jour orders, and I will 
obej. Ton think I oa^t not eren'to aee him and speak 
to bin." 

** I think eo, most eertiualf, xaj dear eonnlou. He 

most not koow oorthiug about what boi' just Itappened ; 

■ he must leoelTe M. Anioioe'e gifts vritboat eospecting the 

eooditious upon which tliejr Are granted. Otherwise, be 

weold refbse them." 

** Maroel," aaid the eotmteee, rising, and ringing the 
beO, **I miit kave nj hoaa at ooee, aikd iMTor rotnn 
to It." 



" Send for A canugv," aba uid, •* utd leH CkmOla llwl 
I want her." 

" I sh«ll tak« nothins with ma," bIn eonUnnad U 
Marcol. •'Tan muat nutke it jonr daljr to paj off Um 
Borraou, and to uod kftar me ndk of mj thing! m ntj 
ba BOC«s&ary." 

"But nbcre will you go?" 

" Into some conreDt out of Faiia. It makas do diAr> 
anc«, u long OS you alooa know where I am." 

Camille made hor appearnnco. Julio put od bfr BMBtla, 
and when she had left the room cootinuad : 

"It must be, my frioud. Madam Thianr will ba 
aoxioua to know what hiu happeoad, and will coma to 
ioquira ; if I atay a siaglo momont longer, I may aoe her. 
And even if I could deceive hor, in tho aTening, — ah I 
in the eveniDg Julioa will wait for me in tho garden ; 
eod when ho sees that I do not join him, be cannot help 
' comiug to mp at my wiDdotv. I coald noTcr hava the 
stroogUi to leave him in mortal anxiety, and I oould not 
uttoranuDtruthtohim. No, no, — letusgonway. There 
ia the carriage in the court-yard. Come, let ma not loaa 
what little courage I have." 

Marcel felt that she was right, and offered her Us 

*' Come, madam," he said ; " it is God who iospiree 
you, and Ho will support you I " 

They drove off, pretty much at random ; tho countess 
gave the coachman the address, first of one convent and 
tfaoa of another, without really knowiog where she 
wished to go. Marcel at last betliought him of & cousin 
of his family nho was at tho Ursulincs, at Choillot, and 
suggested that iostilution. Thoy wont there, and he 
himself aTrangod for hor accommodation ; paying for a 
week's board aud lodging io advance, wiih an under- 
standing that the lady, if satisfied, was to have the privi- 
lege of remaining longer. Julie assumed tho name of 
Madam d'Erlange. Marcel charged his cousin to vouch 
for her, and see that she was properly cared for, but did 
not admit her into their coofidenca. As Julie sntered the 
eonvant marely as a boarder, she had the privilege of 



seeing Marcel in her room, where she gare him her final 

** In any eTenti" she said, *' I will not accept any farors 
irom IL Antoino ; thojr would he odious to me, and 1 no 
longer need his assistance. Since he is mj only creditor, 
let him sell all mj property, and paj himself in full. I 
will retain nothing, except my twelve hundred francs a 
year; and as I intend to live alone, that will he quite 
enough. Do not let him reserve my furniture for me, or 
send memjrdiamondS|-» I will not accept them. He maj 
draw up the engagement himself, stating that I will never 
many. I will sign it, in return for the conveyance 
which he is to execute to Madam Thierry of the house at 
SiTres,and of an income whoso amount you shall act for 
me in adjusting. You are also to stipulate that neither 
Madam Thierry nor her son are to he informed of any 
of the facts about me. You can toll them that I am 
gone, that I cannot see them, that I do not wish to do so, 
because -» Ah, num Dieu t what can you toll them ? I 
do not know.' Tell them whatever you choose, but let it be 
irrevocable, without being cruel ; do not torment them with 
false hopes, for they are weakening, and it is agonising to 
wake from them. Tell them — tell them nothing — Ah I 
I can neither think nor wish any longer — my strength is 

•• I will consider what to say,"* said Marcel ; «« I wiU 
think it over as I return. I leave you in despair, and 
yet I must go. My duty for the present is to get you 
settled here, to keep Julien from being frightened out of 
his senses at your disappearance, and to reassure your 
servants, who will he waiting for you, and who, when 
they see that you do not return, may make inoonvenient 
inquiries or observations. ' Cknne, madam, be heroic I 
Be calm ; I will return this evening, — sooner if possible, 
— and will try and bring yon some comfortable news from 
the pavilion. I must deceive Julien in some way, but 
hoW| I don't know any more than you do. Good*by ; 
wail te me ; don't write to anybody. It would not do 
tela le be eootradiccing eaea <^ttMii« X^xa^vi^ ^w^ 

bitterly. X have puncd job tcinbljr, my poor Saaad, 
and now I miut leave jroa alone. It is fiighUhl I * 

As lia ■pokoiAInrcelweplwilhootkiiowlDsU. Tooched 
by Ibia ovidonco of liis ^of and doTOtion, Julie ammtcd 
ma appcarunco of fortiludo tbat abo <lid not poiseat, ud 

urged bim to depart. But u Moa M ho bod gone, iha 
locked boraelf up, threw henolf upon her poOT Uttle bed, 
bid bor face, and weeping, sobbing, wringbig her huidi, 
abandoned henelf to her grief, tintil ihe Iwt all eooKua*- 
oess of wbero she was, and of tbo erenU that hod w 
■nddeoly torn ber from her borne -and toimtr ■■trrit- 

Marcel, when he reentered the Goach, wiped hia ejaoi 
reproached. hinuolf for his weakneu, and tried to reoaoa 
hinuclf out of it. 

" What we resolve," bo aaid, " we moat bare ooorogo 
to perform." 

Ho had one lost hope that ho had aot moationod to 
Julio, — that of changing M. Antoino's resolution. To 
him, therefore, bo went tirat of all, but bia seneibl* ar- 
gument! and heartfelt eloquence fell oliko upoit a doof 
ear. The scIfisU old man was happy and triumphant. 
Bo was draining his sweet draught of Tongoonco, eqjoj- 
ing it, and did not mean to leave a drop at the bottom of 
the goblot. Thoy both gavo vent to stormy reproacboa 
and iovectivca, but Marcel could not change hia resoli^ 
tion; becODSODted at Inst,— and this was tbe onlycoo- 
cossion he would agree to, — that Julion and bii mother 
should remain ignorant of tbo cruel bargain that waa to 
purchase tboir prosperity. 

" You will find it diflicult, as it ia, to conr out your 
scbome." said Uorcel ; " take care, or you will make it 
impossible. Mw<ftm d'Estrolle ia the only one who baa 
consented to it as yet. Julicn would bave refused. Yoa 
must deceive Lim, or else you will gain no advantage 
from Julie's submission." 

" I'm tirod to death of your Julio t " cried M. Antoiae. 
"Much sho bos to oomplaia of; a woman to whom I 
ua nving aveirthing, — fortune, poaition, and liberty I " 
" Ym, the liberty to die of sorrow 1 " 



■ ** NonwoM I Do p«opk dio of lonP That U Sut 
talk for ■ Uw^orl I<et ber tmitj to anit benolf ia 
btr omi rank oF lifo ; X wilt mako no opposition, — aha 
BM/ Miect whom aho pleaaes, I object to no odo, oxcopt 
tb* daabor. Uerora a fortoislit liai paued, iho will bar« 
OMBod bar ejrof, and will thank mo, Sbo will acknowU 
Mg« wr greatoeta of aoul, and will call me ber benefao* 
tor. Tba fact i«, that jroa wro all cnujr together. I take 
buadrodf of tliottiandB of fraoea out of laj pocket, and 
<io{ tiiem about to a lot of ungrateful foob, and tb«r turn 
•rmiml and call mo a bad ralatlre, a bard-boartod lellow, 
ao old dog, an old misor, and I don't know what beiidei. 
Upon mj word of honor, the whoU world aeenu to be 
eraiTi at praent." 

"Nobodjr boa called yon thoab samei, oncia; no* 
body baa culed jou anj names at all. There ia no name 
that wobM describe yoar extraordinary character ; and 
no other man in tbe world haa fouad ont the secret of 
S people corse the hand that enriches them." 

"Come, jou are making a speech ; jou imagine tou 
are in oonit. Go along, you bore me 1 Tell your Juues 
whaioTcr yon please, I don't want to see cither him, or 
yon, or anybody, I am going back into the country." 

**Tbat means that yon are going to shut yonrself up 
bare, and barricade yourself against all tbe |p>od reasons 
that X eonld give yon." 

"FDesibly. Now yon know what a fiaa timo your 
food reasons will have waiting outside tho door." 

Marcel took good care not to tell bis uncle that there 
vaa a far simpler and cheaper way than the o&o be had . 
•dinned of preventing tbe marria^s to which be was so 
TioUUly opposed) that, namely, of aUowing Uadam 
d'Estnlla to kwe ber fbrUine, and trattiag to tbe infln* 
aooe of bar own prudent and generous reflections. Nor 
did be coosidar it bis da^ to t^ bin that she bad refused 
Us gift. 

"After an," be tbongbt to himself, " who knows bow 
Ittfif tfais paaUoB will last? Jolie may, perhaps, rooorar 
from It anar » time i and, in that oveot, sba wlU not b* 
<ilptoasad to iod banalf at Ubor^, and woalthT." 




dool xnoro »n tijci ^ great dcw ^^^tUtttoto^'"'*" 

Ho left' *** -routed to Boe^ ft*^ tli«mo»her l** 

v«to\ and iw ^^ "^"'Ja had reported tbftt tnc « ^^ 
^° '40 reconnoitre, ««»* ."J^^orihe garden. »• " v^^^^ 
none to row"" .jjo »»de *' '"" f,;ii tbeT«> i W *; ' 
Entirely closed "^^T^agcr vos '^V ,£., depart"'*' 

1 '^^ of Me Antoiu« o rnt'terrv »o WXJ^ "" /».-- lines* 
nortuog ®\. ,r^^ ia Madam Ti^l®^!:-^ftnd ber » »^ *!^r! 

in order to ••»»•' 



domgsi'i MsodBlooB procMclian. Ha wu snxioiutjr 
miting for Um oToaing, itsd dsn nupioioiu wen begiiH 
ning to cTMp into his nuDd. 

"Whokaowi," hslhoagfat, " wlwthftrtlwdow«ger«Dd 
JL AuKniM h»vc not joio^ in • eonspin^to hava Julia 
caimdoffaadoosflnod iuneonvnit, on » cbuge of mis* 

It wu no longer euj to obtsin I«<(r«( d» eaekeL ; but, 
b^ntttu of eertain fonnoUtiea, on e»^)oi(/ac(o jodgment 
ooold be procored, nod nn onUwful impriaonment l^al- 
iaed. Thia would bare been qnile practicable in the preaent 
cue, nnce a lore a&ir with a plebeian wu etill eoD> 
■iderad among the rnliag elaases « scandal such u a 
faini^ of nok might righifullj paoiah. 

Bj the time Uaroel arrived, Juliea wu almost ont of 
bis sens es . Madam Thierry looked tronbled and de- 
jected, Uarcel saw that tlus wu not the moment to 
^eak plainly. 

** There is news," he began, assuming a calm, and even 
T**'***^ axpession. " We were jast about to sign, when 
mtde Anioine appeared amongst us, like a god ont of the 
eloods at the opera. He got angiy, and had a quarrel 
with the dowager, who up to that mmnent bad had some 
nnderstanding vritb him osainst the interests of Madam 
d'Estrelle. This showed him his mistake. He hu re- 
pented of all his foolishness, aitd offers jron a splendid 
lademnitj ; indeed be is going to seise this oecuion to 
make up for all his shortcomings, and I most saj that 
be is acting with great disiDtenslodoess. I hope you 
wiQ feel kiodlj towards him, not only on acoouot of bis 

He will pay her prob^y double the amount 
ofbred by the dowager. He behaved so well, indeed, 
that aha onisidered it ber dntj to thank bin, and to 
■save tba hotel at ooee, m compbanoe with bis wish." 

**Slwis«oe?''eriod Jnlien, tomingpale. 

** Certainiyl-. She bu gone to stay a few days in tb* 
aaaatxr. Whatistboiasarprisingin that?" 

*• Ah, ICazeal," said Madam Thiany, ** yon evidMitly 

ASTOStA. 195 

** I do not dadra to know aoytLiag ouUida of the ▼07 
important coneenu that nqmro ■]! m^ ftttentioB," n> 
plied Maral, with decuion. " I have liftoaed to^^ to 
« great maajr foolish remarki, to a great nutnj iiyniMHU 
and impertioeat ioAinuatioDi ; but I do not intend other 
to belioYO or to remombor aof of them. The luuae of 
M"^"*" d'Ectrelle ia a tacred one to me; bat I hsv* 
adrieed her to keep out of light for a few dan." 

" Keep out of light?" ideated Julies, whoea ^>pM- 
henaiona itill continued. 

" i^rUeu / One would eopposa that we wen in 
Uadrid, and that lomebodj had been buried alira in 
the conrent cellar. Wh^ are yon w tragic about it? 
I have only persuaded hor to be dead, lo to speak, Ibr 
a week or two, until I can ascertain the state of her 
affairs, and adjust them. Lot ua be ontirelj quiot, and 
show neither dissatisfaction nor uneasiness about her 
absence. Whj should we revive the evil designs of the 
marchioaess, just as M. AntoinD has succeeded, for tha 
moment, in baffling them? Abore all, wa most be car»- 
ful not to act in such a way as lo dopriTa Julie of thtt 
protection and regard of our rich old friend. There is 
DO need of undertaking to explain that gentleman's siif 
gulor mode of reasoning, for the devil himself could not 
do it. W^e can, however, take advantage of his pecu- 
liarities ; and no one hero ought to think about himself. 
The point ii, to consider the ^>od of Madam d'Ertrelle." 

Marcel now went into details, and referred to figures 
which compelled Julien's attention. Ho showed that Julia, 
by acting with prudence, could secure a modest eomp^ 
tence, and that, by displaying too much pride, she would 
lose it. So for, the plot formed agniast her by M. Antoine 
and the marchioness had come to nothing ; they had been 
waiting until she should provoke its explosion by trying 
to resist the dowager's claim. It was M. Aotoine's duty 
to protect Julie against the accusations which ho hinw 
self hod originated; and ha was the only person who 
could do this, since his wealth provided him with sufflcient 
resources against the common enemy. Ha showed b 
diipoaition to do what was right, he waa repentant, after 

196 ANTONU. 

Us f»bioa i ht bad coma to hats th« m«rehion«u, and 
aU tbat ha uk«d wu to ba allowad to maoaga the whola 
nwUar himaelf. It was abaolutel/ neeeasaij to acqiii* 
•see, sod to wait tilantlj upon his moremenla. 

Jnllao waa ttot altogather eatisflod with this •xplBDA' 
tioo ; ona thing atill tronbled him. Was not M. An* 
Unna trjing to inflaanca Madam d'EstroIla's plans, and to- 
nt tha coatrol of her property, with tho axtravagaot 
id« of antrappi&g hor into a marriage with himself? 
Uarcel taaaaurcd him cnliralr npon this point ; he gare 
bin hia word of honor that tha old apbinx had altogether 
abaodoned this projacL Lastly, Jnlien asked Marcel 
wbelhar ha eoold also gira him his word that ho had 
adTised Julia to depart thus suddenly ; whether she was 
■bU to come back whenever she shonld aoe fit ; and tf 
she was perfectly conrinced that her Absence would bo ■ 
advantageous to herself, and lo henelf exclosiYoly. 

Marcel eoald oonscienlioaBly reply that all this was 
. so. 

** Ton know, of comsa, where slie is," continued 

"I do," replied Hanel; "but I cannot tell, for she 
made me promise not to. If she chooses to inform any 
one else, she will write ; bat as she desires to keep M. 
Anioine and the dowager entirely ignorant of her whero- 
aboats my opinion is that she bad belier have no con- 
fidant except me. And now that I have axphuned 
arerylking, let me tell yon what compensation M. Antobo 
pco p os ss lo giro you for resigning yonr lease." 
. " Wait one moment," said Julien ; " was this oompeo- 
aatioo insisted 00 by Madam d*£strBlle? Is it not tho 
prie* <tf sooa additional tonneat inflicted upon her high 
. spirit, or of some sacriflca on her part?" 

"There was no diseosuon whalarer abont It," said 
Marcel I '*M. Antoino stated Us iatantiona himself, 
witboot waiting for any one to moke any demands, or to 
proposa any conditimiB. It is pioboUs that ba has in> 
tondad fiir a long timo to oadow yoa with tUs property, 

along timi 

fiir bo owBS tba bonso at 81n«i,Mtd ha^TMittoyott. 

ANTONtA, x<^ 

" Ab, MM JK-tl" erisd M*d«m 
tha papers, "aod an income loot It 
— I am both rojolcod nnd alarmod I " 

" Yes," Mtid Joliea, who wu itill nupidonf, " tlMS«b 
■omotbias bock of all thia ; Mme tnp, parhaps." 

Alarcol hod a grant deal of troubla in making thorn 
aecept tba perfidious gift of M. Aatoin* ; and bad to aaj, 
and even to giro his oath to it, tliat aocb was tha ozprsM 
desira of Madam d'EstrolIe. BeTon he l«ft thami Im>w> 
ever, ihej hod become quite oompoiod. Joliea voa (till 
anxious, but be concealed his npprehoniioas, so u not to 
disturb his mothor'a joj at the idea of reiuning to the 
homo when she hod lived so long and >o hapiHly. liar* 
eel now hurried to the hotel d'Estrello, and diroetad 
Camillo to pock up whatever her "'»"*■■ would need Ibr 
a short stay in the country. 

"Ab, mon Dieal" exclaimed Camille, in miprisa; 
"and did not the countess send for me to coma and jua 

" It is unnecessary, for so short a time." 

"But modome does not know how to pot np her hair, 
norhow to dressbenelTI Why, think of it 1 A person 
who has alwa}'s been waited npon according to bar 

" She will find servants enough in tha house whera 
■be is staying." 

" They must be poor people, at all events, if modiimfr 
thinks they can't afford to keep her sarronta fbr bar. 
Perhaps she is quite ruined herself. Oh dear, oh dear I 
Such a kind and generous mistress." 

Camille began to cry, and her grief was perfectly do* 
cere ; but she added, notwithstanding, — 

" And my wages, Mr. Attorney ; who will poy dm? " 

*' I will pay everjrihing to-morrow," said Marcel, who 
hod often witnessed similar demonstrations of sensibilitj 
mingled with prudontiat considerations, — a atato of mind 
that is naturally developed by sudden disasters. " Hara 
all the accounts of ilie household made out, and do yon 
take the keys until then. Ba responsibia for aveiTthiDf 
until to-morrow." 

■98 AUTOHU. 

** Very mil, monnoir, Z will,* *05w«nd Um Ud/t 
naid, boginning to wb tgun ; " but an we to Imvo 
Btdua'i «inploj]neii(? Ii iIm not coming bade at 

" I did not uj thit, Bod I hsr* neeiTod no ord«n to 

linw to ntam either to dinner or supper, and that ib* 
need not expect him onUl ten or eleveD nt cighL Then 
be went beclt to the coorenU Julia, atler pouring out 
■11 her lift in leera, bed risen, and bathed her face in 
water; bat it wae pale and cold aa marble. She was 
very qniet and depruaed in manner, and adeemed like a 
dead penon moving about. She revived n little on learn- 
ing tlwt Ifaroel had succeeded in mtEloadiog Julien, and 
in qnieting his suspiciooa sufficiently to induce him to 
aeeepi the means of liviag that M. Antoine had convejrod 
to his mother and himself. At Marcel's request, and 
imder bis dictation, she wrote a note to U. AnIotDe, en- 
gaging never to see Julien again as long as she lived, on 
ooodition that the house at Sevres, and the annuity, 
ahoold oerer be taken from him. She would not make 
aiqr similar oooditioo about Iter own property, and Mar> 
oel did itot yet ventnre to speak to ber about accepting 
IL Anioiae*8 release £rom her debts. For the rest, she 
made no complaint, but looked worn out with fatigue ; 
aod when be look ber hand, Uareel perceived that she 
was feverish. He penoaded ber to soe his cousin, sister 
Saint»Jnste, and arranged with the latter to have some- 
ooe sleep in the next room ; nor did ho leave until, in the 
iBost fauierly manner, he had make every arrangement 
for her comfort. 

Jalie had a qniet night ; she was not one of thoee 
•trans natoree that can maintain a long struggle. Her 
eoosewnea t^ her that she had done her duty, and her 
tret passiona t e ontbunt ttf sorrow had been so sudden and 
violent, that she vecy soon yielded to exbanstion, and fell 
asleep. The next morning, after thanking the person who 
had watched near her, aho stated that eba wished to bo 
sdoaa, and MOt .bar vrnt^. Sha made b«t vm M^iisNuK 

AirroNiA. t99 

and finding that sha waa a little airkmrd is parfbn^g 
this unocciutomad talk, aba rosolTed to fonn new haUta, 
and went to work at ooce to dear up her room, maka bar 
bod, pal hor things i& order, and utablifh heraeif in tbia 
poor liitle celt, oa if abo had expected to apend all bar liiii 
there. All thia she did almoet ma e ba n ically, and wilboat 
either effort or roflection. 

When overything waa arraoged, aha aat down in a 
eb<Ur, with her hnndi daiped on bar lap, and remaioad 
for a long time looking out of tbe open window, wilboat 
■eeing anythiag, liatening to the coBTont bcUa without 
pa/iag any attention to them, and not eTSO remembaring 
to eat, although ahe had not token aojtbing for twaatf* 
four houra. A clap of tbnnder, exploding in tbo rerjr 
room, would not have made her irainble. 

Towards noon, aiater Saiot^Jmite came in, and found 
her abaorbed in a melancholy reverie, which aha mistook 
for a atate of beatitude. Some natures, when cmabad by 
affliction, ore so sweet and gentle, that their actual aoffeiv 
iug is unauapected. The aister, howsTer, in paasiag 
through tbo little room that acrred aa Julie's aot«-cbaii>> 
ber and dinin^room, noticed that the breakfast which tba 
aorvant had brought had grown eold, withoot baing 

" But you have forgotten to eat anything," sha said to 

" No, my aiater," replied the poor desolate creatura, 
nowiUing to complain ; " \ was waiting until my i^ipatila 
ahould rotum." 

The nun persuaded her to sit down at tbo table, waited 
Qpon her voiy kindly, and tried to divert ber with ber own 
simple and insignificant gossip. Julio listoned with inex- 
haustible patience, and evon exerted herself to show an li^ 
toreat in all the rainutiiD of the recluse's life, in the details of 
the establishment, in all the stupid little events with whidli 
nuna in anch a community occupy their leisure. What 
differanca did it make whether aho listened to that or to 
sometbiag else? Nobody could annoy or fatigna her any 
more. Har soul aaemad perfectly void, and waa inoapabia 
of raeainng a saw impnaaion. 

Vlien Mucal eanM Again in ihs afternoon, bit coonn 
Midtohim, — 

"71111 D»de yon tell ma that this ladj waa ill, end !a 
mable? S)m slept well, and witbont a MHind ; ihe break* 
fkitBd raaaonablj well, althourii rathor late, ood she 
■hoirad great inteieit ia oonveniag with me. She is rerj 
fiTP^W", and is sotMrionaly tmbapn^. I will anawer for 
that^I kitow aboot nch matters I 

Haroal was alarmed at this patient sorrow incapablo of 
tMClion. He had coma to tell ber what had happened 
that momiog at the hotel d'EatrcUe ; bat ihe made no in- 
qsbies, axeepting aboot Julian and his mothor. On 
learning that Ibejr bad mored, and wonM sleep that Dight 
•t Sinss, she was satisfied, wid refosed to hear anjrthing 

** I do not want to hate anybody," she said j " such a feel* 
ing would onlj iiynre mo, and wonld do no good. Do not, 
therefore, saj anjrthing nx>re to me about M. Antoino for 
sersral days. I beserch you, my friend, lot me reconcile 
myself to my lot as I host can. Yon see that I do not 
immI against it. That is ss mnch as is neceiury." 

As tune went oa, she became more and more qniot. 
She waa oztromoly polo ; but the nun assured Uarcel, 
and with truth, that she ate and slept suOlcienlly. Sho 
did nothing all day, and disliked to soo any one, but oon> 
staaily affirmed, ~— and truly again, ^ that sho did not 
•afite ttma ennui. Absorbed in thought, sho was patient 
and sereae. Uoreel could net understand anything about 
sack a ease. He persuaded her to see the physician of 
the eonvent, and he reported that bor pulse was a little 
Mile, and ber oomplexion a little pUegmatia — an ex- 
B»essiw> used at that time to denote a i^edominance of 
nmph in the mtem. He prescribed quinine, and t^ 
llanel that nothing serious was the matter. 

la &et, nothmg was the matter, except that her soul 
was (piiolly unking, and her life &ding away. She obe- 
diently tow the quinine, took walks in ^e oonTent-garden, 
onsiasntsd to reeaiTe Tiaiu from sous of the nuns, who 
Ihoa^ ber a Tsiy nice peisoa, pronlsed to road some 
Mwbooks that Hand bno^ h«, bat wUeh iha ^ uA 


«pe&, uid Uid out ft piece of KnSmiifoj wfaidi iba ^ 
Bot bogin. So oxtranMlr quiet wen her wm, thet ibe 
Uvod almost invisible in Uw eoorent, um eontiBnsd 
to foda awa7, ilowlj, without ft eriiis of aay kind, bnt 

Marcel was deceived by her »pparant tru>qnniit]r. 
Uistaicing the sudden destruction of her will fbr en in- 
mcnsc force of will exerted in the stni^o to conquer her 
love, ho tried to cure her with mistaken remodie*. Ho 
occupied himself in ondcBToring to restore her phjwcal 
health. Telling Julie that ho hod purchuod n little 
coimtiy-houso at Nontcrre, which, in fact, was only rented, 
he persuaded hor to move there ; and, satisfied oa to Ca< 
milie's discretion and doTotioo, sent her there too. He 
furnished Comillo with-inoney enough to hire a good oook, 
and mode arrangements to supply iho table of the connlos 
with more delicate and nouri^iiag food than she hod hod 
in the convent. The cottage woe in a healthy situation, 
tho air was good, and it had quite a largo garden, wallad, ' 
and not too much shaded to prevent the sun from warm- 
ing it thorougUlv. Books, work, innocent goraos, and 
Julie's harp (in those days every lady played more or less 
upon tliis graceful instrument, and Morcd did not forgot 
to send hers to her new retreat) gave the drawing-room 
a cheerful aspect. CamiUo, whom the lawyer hod ia* 
•tructod, kept her mistress in ignorance about what had 
happened at the hotel d'Estrello, and of tho condition of 
her own property. She made her bolievo that ovorytbinj 
was extremely cheap at Naaterre, and that she might 
therefore indulge herself in comforts, to a certain extent, 
without exceeding tho amount of her little revenue. Julie 
chose to be poor, rather than to receive any favors from 
M. Antomo. On this point, only, Mmxel hod found her 
<^position invincible. Ho had hod to tell her a dowit< 
right blsehood, end to moke her believe that M. AntcMna 
had taken possesaioii of her hotel, hw diamonds, and all 
that she owned. 

The diamonds, in realitr, were safe in Marcel's hands ; 
the hotel was kept in good repair ; the horses ware in the 
■table, wall gnxuned and Ad, and the oaniagea ia iha' 


eoadnlKKue, ^o BemoU had been paid off and dit* 
duuiged, bat with im nndentaading ttutt for a eerUiD 
•grnod l«ira thej ihould bold thenuelvea in remdinoss to 
ratnni Kt onjr tima whon Madam d'Estnllo herself ahonld 
MOW bade The porter had charge of the hoose, and 
' UDded and exer d aed the hortes ; hu wife dosted, aired, 
•ad doaad the rooms. H. Antoine's head gardener had 
diarge of the flowen and the tnif, and U. Antoino hin^ 
adf made tba round* of the place aroTy moming. The 
panlioD, deserted bj Madam Thien7t was shut up and 
aOaDL Otherwise, nothing was changed since Julie's de* 
pwtim. All the furniture was in its place, and tho mm 
■boDe <m the deserted threshold. 

Two EBonths thus passed awaj. TJnde Antoina actod 
vAf as tho gnardiao and business suporinteDdent of (he 
bom. Ho proposed to retain tbb olnce about the place 
nntU meh time as it should please Julie to rosumo the 
nanagement of her property, when he meant to dolircr it 
vp to her 'unchanged, and eren to see that nay of her 
hoosohold whom she wishod to recall should be ready to 
aerva ber. Tho porter had orders to inform visitors that 
bia mistress still retained the ownership of the property 
tamporarilr, and had gone to inspect her estates in Boan- 
TOina, with a view to adjuat soma final arrangemenls. 
In otlMT words, Harcol and M. Antoine, for Uio sako 
of an>earaaoos, had ogrood to represent the situation of 
Hadiun d'Estrello, as tho continuation of a trace arranged 
with bar creditors. This state of things had already ox> 
istad for two years, and it was therofora the boat oz|uana> 
tkn that coold be giren of bor present position. It 
WKdd be aasy aaongfa to find soma final statement, when* 
•tar tba eooirtaai bmoU rotoro. 

Navanbaless, Julie's friends, tho old Doka de Qnasnoy, 
Ibe prssidan^s wife, Madame des Morgsa, tho abbi da 
Nif ilras, etc., bmn to feel greatly surprised at not bear- 
iDf from ber. Her sudden doportnre, — thanks to the 
raporls adroitly eironloted by the lawyer, — had been 
■ Mirfwt orily acooonted fiw ) bat why did aba not write? 
SbaluutbaTaiyla^; or, perhaps, shawaa ill. Was 
Aa MaVy is BaaavflUa? Thar aaltai thwa ^MftScm 

ANTOlflA. aog 

•moiig themMlvu, bat tiu old Dnke da Qnemoj had to 
go to tbo wixn of Vichy ; tha preiUast't wifa wm ab* 
eorbed in oucoding to her dAngbter'a narrUga ; tba abU 
wu a good dool lika k cot, which forgoU all about a 
honM whaa the fire goea oat oo its hearth, and Madaa 
dea Morgea wu iodolenca peiBoiiified. Tbe Mardiioeaa* 
d'Estralle waa the onlr penoo who would !»▼• nada 
■orioui ioquirios, and her malic* wu paraljsed bj IL 
Antoioe, who threatened ebarplj to pnUiah an accoont 
of her conduct, and roclaim bis money, if iha entandiBto 
any investigation, or Teotuied to tnaka any uakiad r^ 
nutrk about Julie. 

In nil that rcUtod to tbo ropatation, tba safoty, and (be 
pocuniaiy inlorcsts of his victim, it cannot bo doaiad, 
therefore, that M. Antoioe acted with re m a rk a b le good 
foith, prudence, and dovoUoa. Ho took coiusol with 
Marcel, ditcuBsed varioits plans, as if bo wen seeking to 
promote the wolfsre of his owu dauzhtor, and followed 
his advice with parfoct exoctituJa. But upon the main 
qucBlioD of all, — the union of the two lovora, — ho waa 
ioQexiblo ; Marcol tried, in vain, to soUcd him. When 
pressed too bard about it, ho got angry, sulked, and shat 
the door in the lawyer's face ; so that, upon this point, 
Marcel saw nothing in the future but indennito delays. 

Meanwhile, Madam Thierry and Julien wero luxuri- 
ously established in their praiiy liiilo house, wboro tbey 
bod found intact most of ihoir furniture, and a number 
of works of art of groat value. Tlie latter U. Antoino 
was too ignorant to appracioto, and had quite disdaiood. 

Julian felt no confidonce in the unozpocted generosity 
of his rolativo, sltendod, oa it had boon, by so many my>> 
terioua circumsiancea, and for which lie hod boon forbid- 
den to thank him. He was so uneasy, indeed, about 
the whole affair, that he would horo refused tbo gift 
altogether, if it hod not been for the obrioua duty of sae> 
ritlciDg hia pride to insure his molhcr'a comfort, Mat^ 
n'ally, tlioy wore reolly well olT. The annuity of fir* 
thouMiod francs eoablod tliom to livo in a modost way, 
without waiting every week, in feverish anxiety, for tha 
procaadi of WMU7 labor. Madam Thieny ooidd itot b*^ 

-90^ ANTON/A. 

ftdiDg extreme delight in retorniDg to her own honaet 
bear dearest reeoUectionef her old habits and her old ao- 
qntintmoces. The circle that gathered around her was 
less nomerons than in the days when she used to keen an 
open table, but it was composed of reliable people. Only 
her true friends sought her out; and, knowing that her 
Income was not laige, they took pains to secure a good 
•ale for Julien's pictures. It is only when free from dis- 
trisss that one's talents can be used to advantage. J^licn 
no kmger found it necessary to fatigue himself with orer- 
work ; patronised by an intelligent and friendly coterie, 
he a^iered, without difficulty, an assured success. When 
bis mother expressed the secret dissatisfaction which she 
■cUl felt at being under obligation to M. Antoine, he was 
able to console her. " 

«« Don't be troubled," he said, «« I will pay off aU that 
we owe him, and in spite of himself, if necessary. It is 
only a question of time. Take comfort. You see that I 
don't allow Julie's absence to make me unhappy, and that 
I am waiting an explanation of her conduct, confidently 
and firmly." 

Jnlien had not altered in behayior or manner, — not 
eren the expression of his face had changed, — since the 
vnhappy day of Julie's disappearance. At first, he be- 
liered every word that Marcel had told him ; but, when 
he received no letter from the countess, his suspicions 
began to be aroused. He made inquiries which satisfied 
bimthatshewasnotinBeauvoisis, and gradually began to 
guess some part of the fatal truth. Julie was free, ^ 
there could be no doubt about that, — for Marcel had 
ewom that she was so, repeatedly. But he revised to 
swear, or even to affirm anything about her state of 
feeling; upon that point, everything was loft to the 
artist^ eomectures. Marcel persistenUy refused to be the 
rednleoi or his cousin's confidence, and thb made it easier 
tot him to elude his questions. The Machiavelian plot 
of M. Antoine was too strange to occur to a straight- 
ibrward mind like Julien's. Jealousy, without love, he 
bad-new even conceived of; and he would have con- 
iidersd il an iasok to JaUoi and a tofct^ taat^aiCK^ 


admit tbat tha «1d mui wu in Ioto irith bar. ITor wu 
tb« old man in lova with her ; nolbiDg U mora cerlaiD 
than that. And yet, nottrilhatKiidiag, ho was oa jonloiu 
of Julion as a tiger ; nod it ii truO) also, that the moit 
implaoablo form of jctilonay ia ibat which U unaecon^ 
panicd by love. Julian thought ho woa iusaiw. Who 
can coigecturo iho Khemca of a eraiy man? 

But, whatovcr these schemes may have boen, he was 
firmly punuoded that they could not have hail any sflfoct 
upon Julie's rcsolation. 

" No I " lio said to himself; " no money consideration 
could ever have weighed with a heart so noble. Jnlto 
wishes to break off hor enga^mont with mo ; she b> 
lieves this to be oeccssnry, and, although at tho cost of 
great sufTcring, she severs the tie in silence. Sho is %^ 
proheosivo about her reputation ; the marchioness has 
threatened to destroy it ; and hor friends havo persuaded 
her that if she marries a plebeian, sho can navcr regain 
her social position. That is the opinion of the world. 
Julio believed, for an instnat, that sho was superior to 
such pr^udicct ; her love for me mode her ovorestimato 
her strength. Her character is proud and noble, but hor 
intellect, perhaps, is not very powerful ; nud, at present, 
she is exerting all her force of chamcter id favor of 
prejudices which destroy her love. Poor dear Julio I 
she must be unhappy, for sho lias a kind heort, and 
must feel that I am Buffering. But for herself, I am 
almost certain that she wishes to forget me," 

Marcel felt more hopeful about Julion's mental recovery 
than that of the countess. lie saw the young man as 
seldom and for as short a time as possiblo, ia onlor to 
ovoid his questions. One day, being obliged to como to 
the house to report to hU aunt on a matter of businoso 
with which she hod intrusted him, ho fouud hor alone. 
"Where ia Julicn?" he asked horj " in hia studio? " 
** No, ho has taken to gardening. It sooms to bo a 
consolation to him to sow and plant in this dear plot 
of ground which we have recovered. Hs has been ia 
tro^a, Maicsl, — is far greatsr trouble than yon kiww 


o£ Ha wu ia Ion with Madam d'Estralle ; X waa qnit* 
right about that; aod otbd — ** 

"Wall, well," laid Haroal, who wished (o aroid anj 
diadoauru, " it ia alt ov«r now, ia it not? Then'a aa 

" Oh Tea," replied the widow, " I beliere so. If be 
baa been dMaiviDg mo — s No, aAer all the bopea which 
be eDtertaiaed, he eonld not do ao ; ia it not tnio, Mar* 
eel? Ho eoald not deceive the vyv» of a mother who 
■dons him?" 

" Undonbtadl; not. Good-night, and pleasant dreama, 
•ant I I will go and bid good-daj to Julien." 

" If he is deMiriog Lis mother after the destmction of 
hit bopos," thonght Marcel, as ha looked for Joliea in the 
ahmbberjr, " he's a devilish resolute fcUow I " 

Julian wa* digging a trench to transplant some jouoz 
treea. He had on a linen smock, and was barfr4ieade£ 
Standing in the loose earth, with his hands resting on tha 
handle of his spade, — like a laborer pausing to take 
breiUb, —he whs in such a profound rerorie that ho did 
not hear Marcel coming ; and iho latter, seeing his profile, 
was struck bjr the expression of his fkc*. The grief 
which bad alimdj altered Julie's boaot; liad not jet left 
an/ trmee* upon that manly coanteDonco, but be hod th« 
same strained expreauon,— the aame look of fixed, mel- 
■Bcbolf bopelessnees, — which Marcel bod noticed in her. 

When Julien saw his cousin be smiled, but without onjr 
' atort of surprise. It was precisely so, with this some 
cold, patient smile, that Julie reoeiTsd him ; a smile sweet, 
bat terrible, like that which sometimes flits orer the lipa 
of the dying. 

"That ia bad," tboogfat Moroel; " he i« devDish reso- 
lota, that's tbo fket ; ac^ yet bo is, perhaps, tha most on- 
Ikaspy of the two." 

So distiassed did be foal, that be could not hide bis 
•motion. Ha waa Tacr fbod of Jolien, and his prudence 
failed him. 

"What is tba matter?" he said; "yon are unhappy I" 

** My friend, yon know rary well that I am unhappy," 
anawand tha artiot, qaittinf U* qp«da, and wukmg 

AlfTOJflA. tiOJ 

aoder tha treu with hU coiuia ; "bow oonld it yoanhXf 
be otherwiM ? Yoo knaw there u » wonuui I am is 
loT« Willi, — mj mother hu told joa eo. Tb»t woman 
bee disAppoend. Yon seed not toll me ebe will 
roiiim ; I know porfecll; well thet she moet ratarn. Bat 
I know, eleo, thet I ought nover to enter her piMMaoa 
■gain, — that she ie dead to me." 

" And — have jron the coani;;e to accept TOnr fltta?" 

" Ab — if it ie mj dutj I Yea know one alwaj* h^ 
cepts ooe'e dutv." 

" One eubmiu Id it with more or len fortitude ; Mill, 
a mao is a man, and canoot help feeling." 

" That is tmo 1 I sufier exceedingljr, Uaroel, bnt I 
have kept mjr dieappoiatment to myself hitherto, and 
•hall continue to do so ; you need bare no doubt about 
that. Why, then, do you rcfiuo to help me a little? It 
eeenu to mo that you might do so. Yoa haTO b«en Teiy 
cruel for the last two months." 

" How can I help you ? " inquired Marcel, who feared 
that ho wonld try and pcreuado him to raveal Jolia'a 

"JfoniKeu/" answered Juliea, divining hie fi4eod*t 
thoughts, *' yon can tell me that she's happier than I 
am. I will ask nothiag more of you." 

" But how should I know ? " 

" You see her two or three times a week. Coma, mj 
friend, you have done your duty. KxiviDg your d^ 
Totion to her, and to mo also, perhaps, yon have endured 
mj distress with a terrible courage. Bat I have found 
out some of your secrets. I learned yesterday, from your 
eon, where she is living." 

" Julio don't know what he is talking about ; ho don't 
know her." 

" He saw her one day at tho theatre, and, although 
ho don't know her name, — ho calls her "the counti^r 
client," — ho hoe never forgotten her. Her grace and 
sweetness mode a great impression upon him, and be baa 
often talked to me about her." 

"Well; goon." 

'^Ue went last Sunday to the fiu at Nantane, with a 


tnmA ofhb own sge, did he not? Yon pnt him nnd«r 
tho caro of tha Ilttio follow*! pAraaU." 

*' Ym, it*i trno." 

" The boji eecapad from their oMen for » fow miantei, 
Mid nui about the riUago, The little roguec won 
tempted br « tree loaded with frait, and haaglDg over 
a low woU. Julio got npon hii comrado'i ehoulden, 
reiehed eome of the bouglu, and, while he wu flUiog hit 
pockets, Mw a woman go bjr luideiDeatb, whom he 
roeogniied. X know the street, and mado him describe 
the appeareiwe of the house. Going to Nanteiro, I made 
. inquines, uid learned that % Uadanw d'ErUogo (that is 
Julie, — rhe has taken an assumed name J was Uring there 
with her mud ; that she never went out, out was uMer no 
sort of snrveilUoce, and was living alone bjr choice ; also, 
that she was not supposed to bo ill, allhongh jour son said 
that she was changed. What is the meaning of all this? 
- either sbo is a prisoner on parole, or it afraid of beioxim* 
portnned bj me. Uarcel, tell me the real troth. IT the 
latter is the case, bring her homOf I implore /ou, and 
assure her that tho need feel no anxiety; tcjl her I 
swear bv all that it most sacred nerer to see her again. 
Do joa bear, Morcd ? Answer, and idiove me &ou tbe 
torment of this nacertsintjr." 

" Well, it ia very much as joo say," answered Moi^ 
col, afUr a little hesitation; "Madam d'Estrelle is a 
prisoner on parole { but the eagagoment into which the 
Las entered u with hersslf, and nobody can Ibroa her to 
keep it. She is frae to reton, hut she cannot see 70a anj 

"Cannot, or dots not wish to?* 

" 8b« neither con, itor wlshw to." 

" Very well, MarcoL That Is enonj^ I Ltform her 

of mv delermioalion to submit to ber decision, and bring 
ber back from her banlshnent She is poorij lodgoa 
over then, and must be terribly lonely. Let her 

retura to bar friends, her oom f orts, her liberty. Go at 
oaee, won't you? Hostsol Don't allowher to snfir • 
single moment koger ^oa my ■seooiK 1 " 

AlfTONlA. 309 

"Var]rwbll,IwiUgo,"MudUu«aI; Tm going ; but 
about yonreolf? " 

" I>oQ't thiok of mo," eriod JulS«a; "whatl hftTva't 
you gono yot?" 

IIo coruiall; embraced Marcd, bnt, ai the mum tima, 
fairly put hint out of tha door by tho BhouUars. 

Aa soon as be was out of Mg^t, Joliaa w«ot to his 

" Well, mother," be said, with a dieerful countonaim, 
" thiosa look better tlum I had hoped. Madam d'EatraUa 
U Dot a captivot nod aha ia aoon eoming home." 

Aa be said thia, he watched hia mother. She uttarod 
au exclamation of joy, but at tha aam« tima • tbadow 
passed over her face. Julioa eat down by her ude, and 
look both her hands. 

" Tell mo the truth," said he ; "the idea of tliia ma^ 
riago troubles you a little? " 

" IIow can I help eameatly deairiug aa ereot that 
would make you happy? I was only a litllo itarttod^ 
because I thought you no longer hoped." 

" I have been very resigned, as you advised. Toa 
told mo not to be discouraged, but to wait, and not to 
think too much about her; yon waruod ma that aha 
would perhaps forgot mo, and that I ought then to IbrgM 

" And you promised me that yoa would forget, if qoo- 
essary. But now I see that you are thinking of her 
more than ever." 

"Anddoa'tybu think I have reasons for nyoidog? 
Toll mo frankly if I am dccoiTiDg myself ; yoa ought to 
prevent ipc from doing so." 

"AU, my child, what shall I tell you? She ia an 
adorable being I I am liko you, — I lovo hor; bat will 
she be happy with us?" 

"You know that M. Antoino is doing almost as well bj 
her ns by you ; that ho liaa placed hor above want. Toa . 
were afraid we would suffer on aeooont of oor poT- 
erty, but that need no longer be feared. Now, what u U 
that troublea yoa ? " 

"Nothing, if she lores yoa I " 


^ Toa sigh as jon sa/ that. Do 70a donbt it?** 

** I have doabted it thos far, nor can 70a bbme me 1 
If I do her an ityastioo, it if your faolt and hen. You 
did not take me into' yonr confidence, allow me to watch 
the growth of Toor love, to follow its phases ; and when 
700 told mo one moraing, * Wo lore each other to dis- 
traction,' I must say I thought your passion too sudden 
to be TeiT serioos. It seemod to me thai you hardly 
knew each other ! When I confessed my lore to your 
father, he had boen three years at worit decorating 
our house, and I had seen hmi every day. I had had 
many good offers, and was perfectly sure that I loved no- 
body but him. Julie's position in regard to you is very 
different. She has lived secluded, and has not yet 
received proposals from persons of good position, whom 
she might have loved. She was longing for affection, 
and was suffering terribly from ennui, without acknowl- 
edging it. She saw you, and esteemed you, as you desorve. 
Tou pleased her, naturally. Peculiar circumstances have 
thrown you together, and she imagined that she loved you 
passionately. Did ^0 deceive herself? The future will 
show ; but she disappeared at the very moment when she 
had promised to avow her engagement, and has let 
you suffer and wait without sending yon one word of 
consolation. If I have doubted her, yon must admit 
that appearances are against her.** 

** You think, then, tlmt her prejudices are stronger than 
her love? Yon think she was not speaking the truth 
when she told me with what enthusiasm she would em* 
brace a humble position in life, and how little she cared 
for rank and tides ?** 

** I do not say that, I say that she may have deceived 
herself about the strength of her attachment for you, and 
the reality of her disgust for the world.^ 
' ^ And yon would not be much surprised if yon should 
be toM that you had judged oorrsctly ? ** 


^Normuch distressed?** 

^ That woidd depend upon yon; I should he afflicted 
k pcpportioii to the bitterness of your regrets. If x^ol 

bora the blow bnvolj, I ibould ujr that it wm tfaa bMt 
thing tkst could haro bftppeOMl ; axiA tbat jroa will toiD* 
dftjr aecura the Inve of k wiMr and Btronger wonuto." 

" Poor Julia I " thought Juliea to bimMlf) ** twta nxj 
own mother regwdi ber 10T» for nw u a mistake aim 

" AVell, motbar," ha continnad aloud, " tako comfort I 
She baa renouncod tho dream wa indulged in togstber ; 
aba so longer belisTes in it, and i> onlj afraid X will 
seek to recoil it to her mind. All that yon foiaaaw baa 
bappancd. Harcel iuu juit been telliag mo about it, aod 
I hava girea bim mjr word that I would aavar mo bar 

" Ab, mm i>i«u / " cried Madam Tbian^, atartlad and 
alarmed; "how can you toll me aucb a tbmgsoqaiaUf? 
Can you really be >o indifTerant to her as that? " 

" You SCO for joUFBclf. I was voir much disturtMtd 
the first few days, nor did I bide tlua from you ; but, aa 
timo passed on, I bare understood perfectly the' sileuc* 
of Madam d'Eetrello. My tranquillity now is the result 
of two months reflection. You need not be astonished, 
therefore, and I hope you will believe that I have enougb 
pride and good sanse to recover from any sorrow that I 
may have felu" 

Julien's firmness was sot assumed, be spoke in perfect 
good faiib. But be did not confess lbs whole truthl H« 
was suffering loo much to make even a half-way avowal 
of his misery safe. It was absolutely necessary for bim 
to keep it entirely to himself. 

In the evening it was very warm, and he wont out to 
take a swim in the liver. He usually joined, for tbia 
amusement, a few young artists engaged in the poicelaia 
Dunufactory, whom he was in the habit of assisting with 
advice and iostruclioo. But to-day, wishing to bo alone, 
be avoided tbem^ aud selected a solitary spot on the mu^ 
gin of a shady meadow. The weather was dull and 
gloomy. lie threw himself mechaoically into tbe water, 
and all of a sudden tbe thought came into bi* bead, as ha 
was swimming along, — 

"ido Dolmlasif IconUaveriMorarfroiDtbiaaimH 

eioiw pftln. If I ahoald atop atttklng oat flir « ftv io' 
■Uqu, thii wBior would awkllow up mj somw, and keep 
tlio Mcrot of m; diuoarogomeat." 

Ai tbsM tbooghU poMod ihroagli l>i> mind, lio itoppod 
iwimmlog, and sank qniokly. But ho romomborod ki» 
nwtbw's dnpair, and, as be' toochod boUom, MUt hinuelf 
to the top again with ono ipriug. Uo wu a fino swim- 
mer, and perhapi ran no rlik in tbii trifling wilh doatb ; 
bat (be tomptatioa waa powerAil, and there is a (emblo 
bidnation £d the idea of sniddo. Throe times be 
yielded, with more and more longing, and saved himself 
wilh less and less resolution. A fourth time the bewil> 
deriog frensj seised bim, and with more violeoos Ihao 
erer. Ho (brew himselfupon the shore, frighteoed at 
himself, and, Ijing upon the sand, cried, — 

" ity poor mother, pardoo me I " 

Then he wept bitterly ; for the first time siooa bis 
fiuhbr's death. 

Uis tears afforded him no relief. The weeping of a 
stroujr man is a frightfbl Mgoaj ; stifled cries, terrible 
■offocatioas convulsed bis frame. Ha blushed at his own. 
weakness, and at being obliged to confess that ho could 
not rally from it, and might, perhaps, never do so. He 
relumod home, discontented with himself, and almost 
cursing the days of happiness that he had etyoyod. Thon 
be be^A to be engij ; and, while bis mother was asleep, 
be lingered alone is the garden, watching the lightning 
that fdayed along tbe borison, and reproaching his mother 
for loving bim too much, and depnTiog him of the lib^ 
orty of disposing of himself. 

" It is slavery," be cried, '* to be always living for 
somebody besides yoareelf. 1 have not even tbe right 
to die. Why should I have a mother? Those are most 
Ibituoate who have no ties. If IbeV still desire to pre> 
serve a life that is ruined, they can plunge into bewilder- 
. lag disaipatioo, into iatozkating dabaoebaries, and so find 
fiitgetflilBSis. For ny part, I hare ikW aran that right. 
I caaaot area bava tba eoasolatioB of beiog malancboly 
andlU. lomiedlobya slow Ore, aod with a smDa i 
— to abed atoar Is » erimal I oaaioi ImailMk ^aa^ 


I cannot hara > dreun, or speak fa nr iloep, bat vxj 
mothor U np, ill heraelf with aUnn. Nor can I maka 
aajr diango ia mj way of living ; I cannot IraTol, I17 to 
flud rorgotfulnua or diotraetioa ia motion and tatiffiie ; 
an/thJDg of that kind would nuko ber nnhappy. To \m 
without mo would kill bor. I tnnst b« eiibur a hero or 
■aint, in ordor to keep 107 mothor alivo I IIapi7 aro vr- 
■ plinna and Dbandoocd childroo I Tbcj an not c ' ' 

to cany a bunlca too great for their strength." 

As soon OS Uo had girca war to this rcbcllioD _ 
falo, other blasphemies rushed into his mind. Why hod 
Julie como to ialerrupt his dream of dorotedncss and rir- 
tiio? Ho hnd accepted all the obligations of his poeitioa, 
and hod fulllllod them ihoronghljr. What right had she 
to toko poucssioD of his lifo, becaose weary of ber own 
solitude? Was it not wicked and cowardly in her to 
have revealed to him the jors of hoaTcn, — to him who 
hod neither hoped for nor asked her lord, — only to leave 
him aflerwards to the hDmilietioD of having believed in 

" You hare made me a wretch 1 " he cried, raga and 
grief coDtending within him ; " yon have robbed ma of 
my self-respect, of all love of my art ; you have made ma 
curse the love of my own mother, distrust my strongth, 
abnudon myself to the stupid and shameful notion of aui- 
cide I It would serve you right if I should rerengo 
myself, — seek you out amid your friends, and reproach 
you with the loss of my faith, my peace, my dignity. I 
will do it, — yes I You, also, shall bo crushed by my 

The idea of Julie's future life, such as it would protn 
ably bo, occurred to him, and his heart was torturod by 
all the pangs of jealousy. Ho saw her in tlta arms of 

Going off into the fields, he wanderod about at ran- 
dom, until bo found himself once more at tho edge of lb* 
water. The storm had become violent, and a traa, not 
far off, was atniek by lightning. Ho rushed nn to it, 
hoping that the ume bolt would strike him. Th« rain 

•114 AjrroirtA, 

fcD in tormti, bat h« Karealj^ felt it ; it wm almoit 
d«7liriit whan ha rotnraad, uhMsod Icit aar ooa ihoald 
MS him io such % dementod condidoD. Ha slept two 
Iwan, and awoke exhwistad, fUghtenod at what hod 
taken pUoe within him, nod determinod not to let him- 
•elf be carried away again bv the violoneo of a pauioii, 
wboao extrema daDgar he had not before nodoratood. It 
was with a good deal of diStcnl^ that be got up nod took 
braakfaot with his mother. 

** Sineo lore is the tnpreme good of life," he eoid to 
her, "I hod alwaji boliered that it must elarala and 
■aactifr. I see, howeTor, that it is nothing but an «xa^ 
ganted selflshness, and that it mokes as either madman 
or fools. Lore most be conqoerod, hut it cannot ho 
WokOD off like a material cham ; it must be gradually 

JaUeo had a violent attack of fever, and was delirious. 
Za his ttvoxj ho revealed all his agonv to his mother, 
•od she also, in her heart, earsed poor Julio. 

l£arcel, in the meanwhile, hod gone to soo Julie. 

** Madam," said he, " joo ought now to go back to 
fonr honsa." 

"Never, my friead," she replied, with her melancholj 

B vanr well off here ; living on my little 
income, and with all I want, why should I he discon* 
toilod? Unless you object to having me romaJn in yonr 

" The house is not mine. X doeeivod you as to that ; 
bat yon can remain in it, unless yon will do what I ask 
yoa, out of regard for Jolien." 

"For Julien? — How wF" 

" Jnlien knows where yoa ore. He knowa that ft is 
your wish not to see him again, and he has given his 
oath that ho will not atUmpt to disobey you. Re snb- 
Biu ontifoly to a decision, whose mobros he does not 
)toow. Ton have, tharaforo, no raason for eoaeasling 
TDmMlf any longer,** 

««Ahl very wen,- said Julie, io a bowild«r«4 «ic»of 
my; — ** hot where shall I go?" 

** T« Flute [ to yott- own ttoBa," 


" I hiiva no home." 

" That ia pouible ; but 700 an mpoMd to bo tonpo- 
mil7 ID posaeasioQ of tout hotoL Yoa ar» ompoMd to 
bo 4iTftDgiog « eoUlciMDt with U. AntoiiM. It ii boit 
that 70a thouUl b« weo ; if yoa prolong jour m7»teriotu 
abaeaco too much, it will give riaa to iiupieioaa and cat- 
am dios." 

" What would poople M7? " 

" Whatever can be eaid of a woman who ia uppoaed to 
hare eomelhing to bide." 

" Whet differonoe doea it make to me?" 

*< For Julien'a aake, you ahould gnard joor repntation* 
So far we have aucceeded ia praTentiag enyinai nuationi 
fivm boieg made againat you." 

" Julien knowa very well that I have nothing with 
which to reproach myaelf.". 

*' It is for that very rcoaon that he will cut the throat 
of the Aral man who anya a word to your diaodTanlage." 

" Let ua go, then," aaid Julie, riuging for CamiUe. 
*' I will do whatever you wiih, my friend, provided I 
never need aee M. Aatotno again." 

" Do not aay that, madam ; I bad one aingle hop* 

" Ah, you have one single hope lefl, have you ? " aaid 
Julie, with her wistful smilo. 

" It would not bo tlio truth to call it a rory woU-foundod 
ODC," answered Klurcol, lodty \ " hut I muat not abaDdoa 
it, except at tbo lost cxtramiiy, Do not doprivo nu of 
the moana of subduins the obstinacy of M. Antoine." 

" To what purpose / " answered Julio. " Did you not 
explain to mo that it is a misfortune for a plebeian to 
marry a woman of rank ; that in auch a case bis life be* 
comes a torment, a marlyrdom, a frightful struggle? " 

" Ah, madam, but if the plebeian is veiy wealthy, moot 
people would pardon you," 

" And so I must ask your uDcle to enridi the man I 
love ? I must dishooor myself in my own eyes, and per> 
hapa ia Julien'a, in order to obtain the pardon of a croel 
and heartless world. Yoo aak too much of me, Marcel ; 
f 00 at« taking adrantag* of my weakneaa and submi*- 


•irauM. lb/ Ood gira ms ■tnagth for on* thing, — 
to renit 70a in this ; for, ftfter nica & ahuaa, I ilionld 
feel that I lutd lived too loog." 

Foot Mareol wu ovorwhelmod with &ttgao ud Tex»< 
tion. H« had exhatutod binuelf ia moung about, ia 
argning, in efflnu of all kinda, and aU ba had aeeom* 
' idubad ma to rMcua hia fKenda from porarty, and place 
tbom in a eeadition of matarial eomfort. Aa far ai r^ 
garda tbair apiritaal atata be eotild do nothing ; and ha 
•aid to hia Wa that evening, — 

"Hy good friend, noibiog i« falaar than the real. I 
bare bean trying to aocare them the maana of living, and 
baT* an^ roooaaded ia killing tham.* 


TULIE rattimed to Fttria and to bar former luzory ; she 
»l found her eqaipogeg, bar jewel* and aerranta awaiting 
bar. M. Antome hod been a laithfltl guardian, and the 
hotel d'Eatralle was unchanged. She paid no attention to 
anything. Hareel had vamly h(^>od that aha would at 
leaat feel aome aort of InstinetiTO h^ipinea* on being sur* 
founded <mce mora by tbesa Ibmiliar aconea. lie was 
alarmed, and almost Taxed at her immorahle indifbrenoo. 
He had sent word of bar reton to such of lier frionda as 
he ooold commnnicate with, and imagined that aha would 
feel oUiged (o arouse banalf in their presence. She met 
them, howcrer, vrithout amotion; and when they ex- 
preaaad alarm at bar pale n ess and evident e x haustion, she 
attributed bar changed ^ipaarance to a cold which ahe 
had taken oa the joumay, and which liad dels bed her in 
the eoontiy longer than she sxpseted. It was twtbing, 
.aba aaid ; aba lud bees worse, and was now improving ; 
and hadprefbned not to write, in order not to alarm any> 
body. She pmnuaad to see her physician, and get welL 

As Ba r aasss d'Aneoort eaUsd a few days after bar 
•Riral. - . - -. . 


" I hare treated you badly," ehe said. " I am aony, 
my dear Julio, and I havo come to ask your pardon." 

" I have no iU feolings towards you, replied Madam 

" Oh, of coureo not. I knoir you are n great philof 
ophcT, or else a great saint. But you are a woman, too, 
my friend. You have boea persecuted, and you suffer." 

" I do not understand you." 

" Oh, mon JHta I You hare been tonneatcd by yoar 
creditors so long, that you liave become quite accnstooted, 
I know, to being persecuted by them. But it seems thera 
came a crisis when you were in danger of losing eveiy^ 
thing. It is said that you have secured a further delay, 
ollhougli with a great deal of ditTicult}', and with the cer> 
tainty that they are only drawiog back to make a surer 
spring. You told Madam dcs Uorgcs so, did you not?" 

" Yes, it is true. I am only staying here while a final 
adjustment is being mode." 

" But you will bo able to save something for your- 

" I do not wish to retain any of M. d'Estrcllo's prop' 
erty. I ought to surrender it, and I prefer to." 

" No wonder, then, that you are bo pule and changed. 
I was told that you wcro wonderfully resigned, and it is 
perfectly true ; but you ore ill with sorrow. You do 
wrong, my door friend, to reject the consolations of 
friendship. You are playing a very grand part, but it 
will kill you [ If I were in your place, I would maks a 
great lamentation and outcry. It would not help ma at 
all, I suppose, but it would bo a comfort. And then I 
should be talked about, society would feci au inlercst in 
mo, and it is always a consolation to aiiract attention. 
You, on the contrary, are allowing yourself to bo buried 
alive without saying a. single worJ[ and the world, which 
is seltish, will forget that there is any such person in ax- 
iatence. Ouly yesterday erening, they wera talking about 
you at the Duchess de B — 's. * That poor Madam d*£»> 
trelle,' said soma one, 'sbo is quit* ruined; have joa 
heard about it? She won't bttpa the maans of hiring a 
fiacru to make oalla.' 


***Wh«t7' Skid th« AEuquii ds S — , 'most w« we 
waA • pm^ womui u that going sbont on foot? Im- 
poMililal Shocking! Is ahe veiy oah^py?' — 'Not 
•t all,' umrered MAdun des Uorgos ; * aha n.j* ihe 
win do perfectlj welL Sho U an aatoiuahing penon ! ' 
.Aad thttn th«j chongod tbo inbject. The moment 70a 
ibov that jon have courage, nobody haa any more com- 
painoa for too, and all tho more ainoa it ia eaaieit to be 
thinfcwig oofy alMNit one'e aelf." 

Jalie odIj amOed. 

** It frigbena me to lee jdu imile in that way I " oon- 
tinved the baronen. " Do jon know, my dear, I think 
JOB ai« very ilL What ia lh« oae in being ao roaerred? 
If yon are ao very eenaitive, you will grow careleta about 
yoDTadft aod diet or languiah along, and loae yonr beauty, 
irtiieh ia wone than dying. Take core of yonraelf, Julio, 
aad do not giTe way as yon are doing. We are not as 
modi deceived aa you think, by your wondorful courage. 
Wa aQ know perfectly well that it ia impossible to lose a 
fiirtaae, without regret. Do you know,— I must repeat 
it, area if it does vex yon, — I think yon made a great 
mistake in not marrying that rich old man \ and perhaps 
it is not too lata to reroka yonr decision. Nobody would 
Mama you now ; when a woman is utteriy ruined ^ " ■ 

"An yon commiauoned to make mo another offer 
^00 hia part?" said Julie, with a littk biUamesa. 

" No, 1 have not seen him since the day we qoarrelled 
^oo bis aocouoL He haa called aereral times, but I 
gave orden that be was not to be admitted. Don't, at 
•av rata, feel diagnalod with the idea becaaae I have 
. nnrred to ik If he ahoiild retnm to yon, don't reflua 
him ; and if be marriea yoo, be aura that I wiU rocaiva 
Um Ibr your sake." 

"Toaare too kind 1 * said Julie. 

** Ton ioaiat on being Btiff aadprood with nw, doyou? 
And yet I am yonr firiMkd, aad hare proved it. I fought 
» battle in TOUT debiKa a littk whils ago. One of the 
Muduoaasi d'Eatralla'a friends, soma cowardly fellow, 
w alaU d to attar aa ta aina at ion againat you in connec t ion 
iriftaainiipiAeaBtpaintar,aoB «f tha iuow'ni^MH^ 


' — you know who I mMtn, — tba krtiat wbo liTvd «t Ai ' 
flod of TOUT garden. I Raid that a wonun like 70a wndd 
noTer degnde henelf oat of pan friTolitjr, and ocdmd 
him to be ailmt, I was i»omp(l7 •acooded bjr the abbi 
de Nm^rw, who ttaled that the young man did not ana 
know yon ; that bo bad gone to lira at S4n«a with bii 
mother ; that ho was a capital fellow, and that ha dadand 
exproaalf that he had never seen M'dmn d'EatroDe the 
whole time he bad Urcd near her, and that this was tba 
truth. By the way, you naod to take an interest in Ibase 
people, did you not— in the mother, at least? Do jon 
still SCO (hem ?" 

*' She has no need of my serrices vof Vmgn, ao thati 
bare do reason for seeing them." 

" It is only your health, thea, about which I feel tst^ . 
mnch concerned, that is troubling yon? Stay,Iamgoing 
to spend a moath in Chaatllly ; suppose you aoeompaoy 
me. yfa shall see a great deal of company, and it will 
do you good. If you regain your pretty color, perhaps 
we will Sad a husband for you." 

The bnroQOBs at lost took leave. Chattering, offering 
her scniccs, and lamenting over her friend to the rtxj 
step of her carnage, she made n groat outcry against the 
seltishQcss of the world, and all tho while did sot care 
the least in tho world for anybody except herself. 

"Julio is a great deal too proud and suspicioas," she 
thought ; " I declare I won't call there again in a hurry. 
She is vexatious enough. If she wonts anything of me, 
she knows where I am to be found." 

It was pretty much tho some with all Modsme d'E^ 
trelle's acquaiotances. She hod novor realised, bcfon, 
the negleci into which those fall who abandon themselvw ; 
and she ceased all tho more to caro for herself, bocuise 
her heart was withered by tbb iodifiorcDce. 

After passiug several days in this way, withoot seeift- 
ing to consider about taking any measures of any kind, 
■lie waked up, as it were, ona morning, and said to 

" I have done as yon wished. I have shown myself to 
my friends, expUiiwd my absence, and inibrmad than 


(Iwt I WM won gtnog vrnvt Again. It b tlm* to wind 
«p xeij %fl»xn definitely, and nugn my booM to IL Ao> 
toina. Uy poipose w to lira io oaa of Um proriocaa, ^ 
la aoBo Miulary placo wbero no ooa kDowi ma. Camilla 
win acco mp aoy nw, and I shall tak« do one elae. Will 
yoa bo ao good as to diroct ma in Mlectiog soma lonaly 
saigliboiiiood and exMcdiogly hnmbla abode?" 

** Tbera ii osa great diffleolty in the way," aaid Uar> 
ed ; " U. Antmna will not allow any liquidation to ba 
made. Hu relaaaa ia fall ia in my poitfoUO) and ba baa 
•0 idea, BO Tar, bot (hat it has been acoepted." 

** And yon receired that releaaa fnun bim I " cried 
Jolie, indignantly ; " be belierea that I bare aeoepted it I 
Tea ware not eonraaeoua eoongfa to tear it op, and throw 
it in hii face I Ab,I begyoarpaidonillareell I forgot 
that ba ia your kioanuui, and that yoa muat naceaianly 
treat bim wiih reapect. Very well ; giro ma the docu- 
manl, and bring AI. Anioine here. The tranMCtion moit 
be doeed to-day, and I will aueod to it myeelf." 

** Ba caraAil, madam," aaid Uareel, aoeonraged by the 
^aam of energy that M«'i«"» d'Eetrelle diaplayad when 
tbia one raloerable point waa touched ; " M. Antolna ia 
bimsclf extremely irriuble, and it gratifiea hia ranity to 
feel that yon are indebted to him. Do not quarrel with 
Um,for inlhat case he will revenge himaelfnponJalian.'* 

** Is not Julian's fortune secured? " 

" Tea, if all the oondiiiooa of the agreemoat are ob* 
osrved, bat I should deceive yon if I ai&rmed that M. 
Aalolue is nwara of your refuaal to aeoept your part of 

** (Ml, MON Dun / Uarcel, into what a altaation hara 
yoa bronght me I In yonr blind darotion to practical 
' maUers, your obstinate detarBunatioo to save me flma 
poverty, yon have disgraced me I This man believes that 
I have sold my heart, — that bo has boaght it with bis - 
money, and Jaliea, ^ ba also must snppoaa that Z have 
betrayed my love for wealth 1 Ah, it would bare bean 
batter if you bad killed OM I I foel lo-day distinetly that 
I enanot aodnra sneh » lift a^y loogar, — tbat I mast 

ANTONIA. sat ■ 

Jd11«, who hftd DDt wept for a, long time, sobbed as if 
her heart wonM break. Marcel preferred to see her erea 
thnt) rather than changed into a atatoo. Hoping that the 
COnsequeDCca of n violent criais would bo farorablo, ho 
resolutely provoked one. 

" Reproach mc, curse mc, if yon choose," ho said, 
" but I did it for Juliea's nakc." 

*< That ia true," replied Julie, "and I was wrong to 
find fault with you. You feci sure, theo, if I should 
offend H. AntoiQc by refusing his ofier, that all ho baa ' 
done for Julien will become a matlor of uncertainty again ?" 

** Undonbtedly ; and, what is more, lie would ImTo 
jnilieo 00 bis side. Ho is beginning to make me uneasy, 
— ao impatient is lie becoming to have you proclaim his 
merits, and cease being ashamed of accepting his kind- 
ness. Yon moat drink the cup ; it must be done, for the 
lore of Jnlien, — if indeed, as I suppose, that lovo still 

"Do not say noytliing about that. I will drink it to 
the very Icoa. But how aro wo to cxpleia to the world 
tho generosity wilh which I am treated? To what mo- 
tire will it bo attributed? People will think I have beea 
paying court to lliis oldman, — that I have fascinated him 
by Bomo discredirablc coquetry. Perhaps they will say 
even worse 1 " 

" Yes, madam," said Itlarcel, who wished to make one 
decisive experiment, in order to ascertain Julie'a senti- 
ments. "£vil speakers will eny oil that ; and I do not 
see, now, how to prevent it. Wo will try ; but, if it can- 
not bo done, will your devotion to Julien enable you to 
endure even this?" 

" Yes," said Madam d'Estrello ; " I will endure to the 
end. Tbero is something to sign, is there not?" 

And she thought lo herself, — 

" Aflorwards, 1 will kill myaclf." 

" You will not have any new engagements to make," 
said Marcel ; " but it will bo necessary for you to recciva 
M. Antoine, and thank him. I am absolutely certaitt 
that he will make Julien's fortune, if you will consent to 
•ome sort of roconciliation." 

" Go and brio;; M. Aatoioe," Bsid Julie. " I will kill 
BiTMlf to-night," aho said to horsolf, wheo Marcol bad 

Dcfpoir had so iotcosidod Julie's Ioto, tbat she was no 
longer capable of roasoniag calmly. Sbe bad accepted 
tbe fate of a mnrljrr, and a martyr's onthusiasm was the 
only reeling that still bonnd ber to life. 

She wrote to Julicn : 

" Hero is the key of the pavilion. Como at mid- 
oight ; you will find me there. I am going a long jour- 
ney, and want to bid you an eternal faro well." 

This letter, with the key enclosed in it, sbe sealed, and 
gave to tbo most trustworthy of her servants ; ordering 
him to take a hersc, (o ride as fast as possible to Sevres, 
and bring her an answer. It was now five o'clock in the 

While waiting for AI. Antoine, ehe went out into tbo 
gardeo, and paused by the edge of tho little lake. It was 
not deep, but, if she chose to lie down in it, would an- 
swer her purpose I One who really wishes to die, can 
always do it. The thought of suicide, which had tempted 
Joiien eo violently a few days before, filled ber mind with 
m frightful traaquiUity. 

" Nobody on earth cares for mo except him," she said 
to herself; " and, as I cannot be his, I owe no obligations 
to any one else. An iofemal hatred seized and stran- 
gled me in the very bloom of my life, — in (he very bloom 
of my happiness. Not satisfied with robbing mo of my 
love and my liberty, they want to rob'me of my honor as 
well. Marcel said so ; I must bo supposed to be the mis- 
tress of this odious old man. Ah 1 if Julicn knew tbat, 
what a horror be would feel of the comfort which hii 
mother is eiyoyiog 1 And if she should suspect it herself 1 
— They shall never know it ; I will make that sure ; my 
death shall appear to be an accident. When I am out 
of the way, ibcro will bo bo excuse for changing tho eon- 
tnoL Juiiaa will b« rieh mod lwaw«d, and n^wdy will 
«T«r fiMM at iriurt a coat." 

Tmb iha maMdMnd, OSM mora, tbat It mtadw^ 


Jolien ud hsnolf to bruk all thaw dudot, aad nuunrj in 
•piM of poverty. 

*'i*arbapi be would ba luippior m,* ilwwld; '*pai^ 
bapa mj socriflciDg myself will be only » mUbitiiM to 
him. Bat wbo crd tell bow for U. Antoine'e hate would 
GuTjr him I Ad irritable lunatic ia capobk of aiiTthiii^ 
He might have him awqgii n a tad . Hot he not Meret - 
agent*, epies, brigands, at hie Hrrice? " 

Bewildered, she walked obont the little lake, oa if iin> 
patiently waiting the hour of hor death. Thon, romom* 
buring that she woa to see Julian again, a wild longing fbr 
Ufa seized her, and her heart boot oa If it would braaJb 
She felt DO ramorso, and not evoo a consdantiona acmpla 
at violating an engagement forced from hor by ths moat 
cruel moral violence. 

" One who is going to die," sho sud to heraelf, " haa 
a right to protest, before God, ngainit the iniquity f>f her 

A violent reaction, like the ' ebullition of a quiet loka 
below which a volcano has suddenly broken out, or the 
sudden flashlag up of an expiring flame, transformed her 
eweet, yielding nature, and gave her, for the momeoti ax- 
Iroordinary strength. 

She saw M. Antoine approacbiog with Uorcel, oad aoC 
down mechanically upon a stone bench, to receive tham. 
It was there that she had sat with the old man three montha 
before, when he had made her the strange and ridicnlona 
proposition whoso rejection hod cost her so dear. 

As on that day, she heard a rustling among the leaves, 
and saw the sparrow that Julicn hod tomod fluttering its 
wings, and seeming to hesitate whether to perch od her 
shoulder. The little crooturo hod bccomo rather wild 
again. "When Julion moved from the pavilion, it w«a 
nowhere in sight, and he hnd leA it, hoping that Julio, 
whoso long absence he had not foreseen, would be plaoaod 
to find it thoro. Since hor return, she hod scon it several 
times, not very far off, friendly, and yet mistrustful, but 
hod tried in vaiu to coax it to come nearer. This tima 
it allowed itaelf to b« caught, and sba was holdiog it in 
bar hand wbao M. Antwna joined Iwr. 

114 ANTON/A. 

She amtled, and bado hint good-day with a wild cxprca* 
■ioD, and ]io addressed hor without knowing what ho 
•aid ; for, id spilo of liia l/rannicul disposition, bo could 
Dot ixioquer liis bashfulncss ol first mooliag anjr one. Aflor 
hia moment of incorrigiblo Btammering, he could find 
nothing better to say ibaa this : 

"Well, von still bavoyour lamfl sparrow, I ace?" 

"It is JuUeo's spoiTow, and I lovo it," replied Julie. 
** Do 70U want to kill it? Here it is." 

The way in wbicb she said this, her death'liko pale- 
oesSf nod the sort of fierce indifference with which she 
held out the poor tililo bird, nil warm with her kisses, 
mode a great impression upon M. Antoine. He looked 
at Marcel, OS if to ask, " Is she crazy?" and instead of 
twisting the sparrow's neck, as he would have readily 
done throe months before, bo pushed if away, saying, 
awkwardly, — 

** No matter I keep it. It will not do aoy barm." 

" You are so kind 1 " said Julio, in iho same Cry, fevoi^ 
ish way. " Vou liavo como to rocoiro my tbonks, havo 
you Qot ? You are awnro that I accept ovorythiog ; that 
I am very linppy ; tliat I no longer lo?o anytbiog nor any* 
body I thatyou have douo roo a vary great sorricc, and 
' can say to Cod every nigbl, ' I have boea good and groat, 
H You are Yourself.' " 

M. Anloino stood with his mouth open ; too subtle to 
believe that Uodam d'EstrclIo meant what she said, and 
jet too coarso to understand lior, ho was uncertain 
whether she iatondod to thank him or to lungh at him. 

'* She dollcs mo to my face," bo said osido I« Marcel \ 
*' you rascal, you have fooled mo I " 

" No, undo," onsworod Marcot, aloud ( ■* the oountosa 
thanks you. But abo is vory ill, as you can loe. Do not 
require bor to talk any longer." 

Marcel hod calculated that the alteration ia Jolie'a ap* 
peoronce would moke an imprestios upon SL Anloioe, — 
nd it did mak« a Tirid om. H* gued at her with • 
■trug* Ofnuioa, at oooa itiipU, enel, and tistid, *od 
nid to UmMir, with » J07 not ouiiigled with t«mr, 



M Uadwa," he said, Aftor hMitating a moment, ** I lud 
I would bo nrflDgod od yoa \ that Z would malco jroo uk 
mj pordOQ for your oneoou. An 70a wilUiig to snd 
ths whole nuiUar b/ oooftwing that 700 won ia the 
WTODg? TbaX is aII I require." 

" What wrong bare I done?" seid Julie; "exidainit 
to me, K> that I may confess it." 

Aotoina was voir much at a loes for oa answer ; oodt 
OS always happenod with him when he oonld find nothing 
•ensible to say, hit anger, — which he bod olinoat for> 
gotten, — anddeiily rerived. 

"Ah I Ton tUnk yon hare done nothing to oShnd 
me I " he said ; " very well, mordi I Ton most ask my 
pardon fairly and squurdy, or I will have satisfoetion out 
of Julien." 

" Must I ask your pardon on my knees ? " asked Jalie, 
with a sort of wrrowful haashtiocss in her tone. 

"Well, what if I do roquiro it?" answered (he old 
man, diity with aogor, and still thinklni; liimsolf defied. 

"So bo It, — have yonrwillI''said Madam d'Estrelle, 
^and she kuolt boforo him. 

This was the crowning act of her- martjTdom, — the 
public expiation oxiortod from tho innooont rictira, as ho . 
stands with lialtor on neck and torch in hand, before 
mounliDg tho pile. In this moment of subline self- 
immolation her troubled soul suddenly became calm, — 
her couDionoQce was transfigured, — she smiled tho 
ecstatic smile of a saint, and hor eyes shone with oq 
fnofTablo sweetness, as if heaven hod opened and wu 
reflected there. 

Antoino could sot understand this suddea oliango, and 
it startled him. Ilis anger eoosod, — not beeanso hia 
boart was softened, but under tho influence of a fealinf 
of snporstitious terror. 

•• Very good," he said, •' I em satisfied, and I pardon 
JTalien. Adieu 1 " 

He tnmod and fled. 

Marcel paused for a moment to say a few encouraging 
words to Julie, ^ which she did not hoar, or did not try 
to uoderstOQd, — and then hastened after M. Antoine. 


** Kdw, mj good mdo," h* lud, Id a bolder and 
■hsipsr tOM tluui hehad7«tM>iiiiMdtobim, "Tououg^t 
rallf to b« HtUfied; 70a bara Idllod Madam d*£a- 

** Killed her ? " uid tmde Antoine, toroiog abort apoa 
■liiQ. "Wbat pieea of itapiditr ia tbat?" 

" The atupidiu would be in thinking b«r jcj and grat* 
tude nneen. Too cannot be rach a fooL Tliat woman 
rate ; aha ii d^ing of eorrow." 

a desperate 
"Ton lie 

angry, and the annorancet I 
of lata have made ner ill with Texation. Bat she ia 
aatiified, at laat, that it wai all for the beat; she 
polls at the bit, bat she knows I am aaring her ia spite 
of henelf." 

" You are saTing bor from the chances of the (btnre, ^ 
that is pnfecdj true ; and 70U am taking the aorwt way 
to do itj — by depriving her of life," 

" Pshaw I That's anothor anbtarfoge I She caught 
cold spending the nights ia the gardon with bar lover; 
and ibe found it extramoly tiraaomo in the coDveut of 
Chaillotf and still more so fa that old barrack at Nan* 
terra, where aho was absolutely cdone. Yoa soe she 
•ought la Tain to conceal herself, — I know eveiy place 
she boa been in. I have not once lost track of hor. 
YoD oaa't dieat me 1 I saw the convent physieian ; he 
told me that she was iadined to melancholy by bar tem- 
perament, and bad no serions ailment. Z saw bar doctor 
in Paris, and be said be could not understand anything 
about bar ilbess. Tie devil I if it bad been anything 
■ariont ba would have known what it was well aaoagb. 
Yat my port, I know wbat it is t she has bad a disap> 
poIntoMnL That doesn't lull people, and I guorantea 
tbat sha Is going to got welL" 

" And I guarantee," said Marooli " that if she Is left 
to tba despair into which yoa have plunged bar for as- 
other weak, she will ba idat beyond roooveTy." 

**Fbol Than sha ia voiy much in love with tha 
dauber? And Is ha thinking about her tooT ** 

**' JiUaa ia u Ql ■• aha, lid in a ooaditioaof mind qpIlA 


■I aluiiuDg. I took pftiiu to NtUfy mjielf npoo lUt 
point, ftud aaccoeded in d<Hng to widt k gnat dasl of 
difficnltj, for he ia not a mui to complua. A» tar hn, T 
luTB not been able to Duke her apeu » single word for 
two monlh*. To-da^, I undertook to pnah her to tht 
lut extremity ; — I eucceoded, sod' from thie 6mj I Iuits 
nude up tay mind u to mjr own course." 

"Yoor course? What do jrou mekn? What are 70a 
going to do?" 

*' To destroy a conple of papers that I hare in mj 
pocket,^ the roleaeo with which jron intnulod ma tat 
Madam d'Estrelle, and her promise noTer to see Julian 
sgain,— which I have never delivered tojrou. Yoa botk 
of 70U put jourselves into my hands when yon oathoiiMd 
me to exchange those reciprocal obligations. I shall pUco 
you on an equal footing bj dcatrojiag them both. Then 
the whole affair must be begun over again, and, as I am 
aware of the iDtoutions of both parties, I docluo to joa 
that Madam d'lCatrolIe will accept nothing from jou, and 
that 70U may take poRSCSsion of all her property at once. 
Up to this time, she has followed my advice implicitly ; 
and, as I don't wish to see her die, 1 nhall advise her to 
retract all that she has thus for asrood to." 

" Why, you abominable scoundrol 1 " cried M. ADtotao, 
stopping short in Ibo middle of the Btrcet, and speaking in 
a loud voice, " I don't know why I don't broak my stick 
over your shoulder I " 

*' A acouudrel, when I return you all yonr mono/, and 
reserve to my client only the right of living in poverty? 
If that is so, go and bring a anit against mo, carry the 
affair into court, and cover yourself with ridicala and 
disgrace I " 

" But, JulioD I I have mode Julian rich, you raaeaL 
I auspcctod as much all along I You have oxtortod (torn 

EM — " 

"Kotliing at all I Julian lioa boon seriously ill Cot 
•ovoral days, and is so still. I hinted to his molhor lUo 
true atate of the cose, and she answered, ' Give oil tha 
propemr bock to M. Antoine, and lot Julie bo roatorod to 
tifl.' 10a see, therefore, that you do sot lose one pmaj. 

asS AifTomA. 

You vrill recover priacipal and loMrost, und wo shall bo 
at libertjr lo live aa wo chooao, wilhout beiog bound by 
•nj eiipulaiioQ, legal or private." 

"Wby, j-oQ miscrnblo wMtcIi, you aro complotoly 
bockiujouil I tliouglit you woro n rcasouablo mnii. 
You took myviowoftho matter entire!/; you disap- 
proved of ilio morriogo, aad were belping mo ostabliab 
them comfortably." 

" Yes, until I »aw that ibia comfort wat going to carry 
them straight into their graves." 
" They oro a parcel of fools." 

" Yes, uncle, tlicy arc : love is nothing but fooIisliDCSS ; 
but when it is incurable, wo must yield to it ; for my 
part, I yield." 

" Very well," replied M. Antoine, pounilisg his three* 
cornered hat down over his eyes with a desperate blow 
of the &sL *' Go and order that lady lo clear out of her 
house, -^ that is, out of roy bouse, — this iostaat. I 
■hall go to Sevres, and turn the others out myself. If every 
one of them is not in the street within two hours, I'll 
Hnd sberitTs* oOicers, policemen ^ I'll set tba buildings 
OB fire — I'll — " 

By this tima he was niooing so fast that bis foolisb 
threats could no longer ba heard. Leaving Marcel in the 
Biroet, he rushed into his bouse, a capital caricature, al- 
though be did not kaow it, of Orestes pursued by the 
furies. Marcel followed quiotly, without allowiag him- 
■elf to ba alara3od,and forced his way in, although orders 
bad been already given that tlie master was not at 
home. He hod rcs^ved to fight his way in, hod it boon 

" You are going toSAvres, oroyoa?" bobegoo; 'TU 
go with you." 

"As you please." said uncle Antoine, gloomily, 
*' Bave you nolided Madam JuUe to vacate mi/ hotel 7 " 

** Ym, I hart," said Ifareel, wbo saw that tlw old 
nut wa> unmiihitilj bnriilii ti'Mf [f, ttA bad no idM how 
•hort • tima had alaptad alBM tiiair ftUaraatioa in tiw 


"ItakajMUiV^? WIDibtouiyoff— f " 


"Kotbiag," Mid Maroel; **ilu Isatw •▼«7tUi^ 
AraYOKoing >o Sdvroa? Havo Toa ordond keoub?" 

" Mf oonrod vragoa Kid wonrhono will go flutar. 
Tho7 oro linniouins." 

Ilo Bat down OD Iho cornor of a tabic, aod renuunad 
plungod JD b» own rofloctions. Uucol, who luid delar- 
miDod not to loao usht of liim, Mt down oppoMt*; he 
feared for hit roaWD, and woi also apprakoiuivo that hii 
rage would soggeit Bom« diabolical trick to him bywhidi 
hit friuods would bo vietimiiod. Wbon thoj itaTted, it 
wsa Mvan o'clock in the cveniog. Uorcol wu tlio flnt 
to break the silcnoe. 

"What ore wogobgtodo atSiTru?" ka o^d. 

" You will MO," annwered U. Aotoinc 

After quarter of an hour, Marcel ipoke again :. 

" It will do no good for ^n to go there. Tha papm 
ore nt zaj office. All ibat is oeceBsarf is to dcatroj tbenit 
and I give you notice that I will not permit you to make 
an absurd scene with my aunL She is in trouble, and 
Julian is verj ill, as I told jron." 

" And f ou lied like a dog ! " replied U. Antoioe ; " saa 
there 1" 

Uo pointed to a hired cabriolet that wa«* just pasaio; 
them. In it sat Julian, pais and haggard, dorklj £rowo> 
ing, and with an abstracted but determined oxpression. 
He had roccired Julie's note, had forced himself to rise, 
and, desiring to question Morcol before keeping his 
appoinlmeot, was on his way to Paris in good seosoD. 

" If it is with him that you wish to spoak," said Mar* 
eel, "lot us turn bock. I wugor anything that he b 
going to my house," 

"I don't wont to speak to him," answered M. AnIolBe 
ironically, "since ha is dving." 

" Did you think ho looked well?" naked Moroel. 

M. Antoino nlapsed into his sinister silonce, and they 
drove on in the direction of Sevres. Did he really know 
what Lo meant to do there? To confess tho truth, lie 
bad not the least idea. His miod was in a terribly 
oonfiised state, and ho was thinking idwut thia £Mt, 

> ajo 


uid tiiis alone, for be resU/ began to be alarmed about 

" After all " ho thought, " I slmll be the siclcest of the 
three, if I don't take care. Anger is a good thing, il 
keeps a man alive, and strengthens him in his old age ; 
an old man who allows others to manage him is dono 
for. Still, one must not indulge in too much at a time ; 
I must be more quiet." 

And upon this, with a power of will that would have 
made him a remarkable man, if ho had possessed bettor 
teadcDcies, or had been better directed in life, ho resolved 
to lake a nap, and actually slept quietly until the wagoa 
began to rumble over the pavements of Sevres. 

Marcel liod been tempted to try and turn back without 
his uncle's knowing it, but it was a question whether 
M. Antoine's servant would obey him ; and, in any ovont, 
since Julicn was out of the way, was it not the best plan 
to wait and see what M. Antoine would have to say to 
Modnm Thierry? lie was a good deal afraid of her. 
Would ho dare tell bor to ber face that bo took buck all 
he bad given ? 

Sleep restored M. Antoine to himself, — that is, to bis 
chronic condition of deliberate aversions, jealous self-love, 
suid brooding rcsonlmont. They found Madnm Thierry 
itaadiog before a beautiful portrait of licr husband, as 
if she had hoped, by gnsing upon the serene and cheer- 
ful countenance, to mspiro herself with the confidence in 
the future that had always eharaclerized that charming 
man. Marcel bad but just time to step in first, and 
iram ber briefly : 

" M. Antoine Is close at my heels," b« said. *' He is 
fnrious ; but, with patience and firmness, yoD may still 
be able to save everything." 

"JToniHeu/ What sbaU I say?" 

*' Tell him that you resign all bis gifts, but that jo\i 
mx* grateful to him for them. Julio adores JnUea. 
Ereiything depends on my uncle, — he is coming." 

" Shall you leave mo alone wiib him ? " 

" Yes, be iosisu upon it ; but I will stay close by, and 
te 2«a4y to iatwyoto, if momutj," 

AlfTVjriA. igt 

H« 'ittppad qoi^j into % liula cabinet, and, kaving 
the door ^ar, sat dowo and liaUned. If. AnhMna eama 
ioto the drawing-room \>j the other door. H« waa leaa 
timid now that ha no tongar ielt Hareal'a aemtinuing aja 
faatened npon him. 

" Your aervuit, Madam Andri," be aaid, aa ba CMiia 
in; "arojou alone?" 

Madam Thierry roio, aonrered (bat aha ma, utd 
politely invited bim to ait down. 

Her face also was greatly altered. Sba bad baaa 
watching with her son for ssTeral nights ; and now that 
be hod riwn and departed in spite of her rnmnnitrannna, 
•he foU that the great crisis of his life dratu waa mum. 

" Is your son ill ? " asked U. *""*■"■ i 

" Yes, monsieur." 

" Seriously? " 

" God graat that he wilt rooOTar,* 

"Ishe inbod?" 

"He bos just got up." 

"Could I see him?" 

" He has gone out, monsieur." 

"Then he is not so very ill?" 

** Ho was extremely so until last ni^t; aiiiea than h* 
has boon a littlo better." 

*' What was the matter ? " 

"Fovcr and delirium." 

" A sunstroke ? " 

"No, monsieur." 

" Trouble, porhops?" 

" Yes, monsieur ; great trouble,'* 

" Because he is in ]an ? " 

** Yes, monsieur." 

" But it is a silly buiinoss, to bo in lore, when ba 
might bo rich." 

"That canaot bo reasoned about, n ' 

" No, I did not." 

"If you will send your sou to Amoriea, I will fliniab 
binwitb a handsome capital, I will directbia opantioaa, 



KoA in tea j^n ha will oom« boma wilh mi Ioooim of 
tbirtr UuHuud fraocs." 

" Oa whKt conditions, monsienr? * 

"Tlwt 1m bids fftrewell to n eertdo Iwlj of ov w 
qnaialaaco ; nothiog mora than that." 

**Aiidif hararnsu?" 

" If ha rafiiiet, — and that is what I axpact, tw I 
hav* tM«D adviaed that it ia likalT-, — la that aTeotMi 
agroemant antarad iato between a mtida lady and my- 
Mf reapecting him becomes anil and void." 

" "taj good, monsienr ; I nnderatand. Yon bare the 
to do irtiat 70a ehooBB with Toar own, and wa 


" Bnt 70a might renst, if 70a choaa. Yoa ware not 
eonsnlted about Mcepting mj gifU ; voa did not know 
of the conditions agraed npon bj Hadam d'Eatrelle 
and myself. There is safflcient groand for a lawsnit, 
and I shall be rerj likelj to lose u, if mj (^>poneDta act 
in bad faith." 

** If by Toor opponeou 70a moan my son and myself, 
make yonraelf porfectly easy, monsieiir. Wo sarraodar 
TOOT benefaetiMts withoat any hesitation whatever." 

"Ah, yea, my benefactions 1 They an burdeuoma to 
yoa ; ym are ashamed of them." 

** As long aa we did not know thkt they restrained the 
liberty of one who is dear to as, we were not ashamed 
of them; and «Teii, — yon may be assored," oontinoed 
Jladam TUerry, tnakiDg a great effi»t (or her son's sake, 
**wewen graUfol to yon [ — If wa had been certtun that 
wa owed tUa generosity to yoor solidUide for oar welfare, 
wa ahonld han blessed yoar name. But whatsTar cansed 
yoar kinilinni| and howerer abcvt its daration, it has 
made ns bi^i^, notwithstanding oar tioables aad aax> 
iatiss, to sea ws house again, and to find ouiielTes in tha 
nidst of our dearest raeoUaotioos. Yon order ns to 
laar* It, and wa shall obey ; bat I want to thank yoa fbr 
■^eelf— " 

M Yon, madam I" said Antoine, ktoking steadily at her. 

** Yea, — to thank yoa fbr the two months that yon 
Wm allMnd w to stay hsn. Th» tboaght of oonr x*> 


taming to mj home wm tlmm diitwiiii^ to mat 
heDcoTorth it will be leu so; X ibell nmember Ihii 
■hoit TJait u A last beAniifal dmm caating a gleam of 
•muhino over m; life, and wliich I owe to 700." 

Madam Thierry had an agreeable voice and a peca> 
liarly refiood accent, wbieli were extremely attraetin> 
In his fits of anger, M. Antoiae was ia tho habit of CiQ> 
f ng her *' The flno-flpokoo lad^." Ho folt, novoitbdeM, 
tho ioflocncc of this tweet voice, still frrah and pnn, 
caressing his ear with kind and almost roverontial vrords. 
Be did not understand the dolicacj of her ■entimenti, 
hot he saw that she seemed hnmblo and subininivo ; and 
this it was that he so eagerly craved. 

" Come, Uadam Andn," ho said, in the gruff manntf 
which bo was accustomed to assume when his anger be- 
gan to be dissipated, " 70U know how to say exactly what 
you want, but confess that in your heart you can't abide 

" I hate nobody, monsioar \ but yon oblige nw to con- 
fess that I am afraid of you 1 " 

Nothing could have been shrewder than this answer. 
To inspiro fear was, according to M. Antoine, the highest 
attribute of power. Wonderfully softened, he said, ia a 
tone that was almost good-oaturod, — 

"And what the devil makes you so ofrud of me?" 

Madam Andri possessed the penetration peculiar to 
women who have lived much in society, and the tact of a 
mother arguing the cause of her child. Seeing how 
important an odvaatage she had gained, she proceeded to 
forgot, — very opportunely, under tho circumstances,^ 
that she was sixty years old, and courageously decided to 
be a little coquettish, although M. Antoine was a man 
with whom it was dangerous to be too condescendiog. 

" Brother," said she, "it was your fault if you did BOt 
retain my ccmfldeuce. I do not reproach you with having 
betrayed it, for your intentions were good, and it was I 
who did not nnderstand them. I was very young, and 
my unhappy position made me peculiarly sensitivs. Ut> 
teriylnsxperienosd, I thought you were trying to paiMada - 
mt to abaadoa Andr^ whan— " 

4jf AirroiriA. 

** Wbra, in rMlitft I was Ulling jon in good fidth to 

** Tm, 70a vara setiDg oat of Rflbetion tot bitn. I wu 
bSsd, olMtinaU, — wlu^rer yon ehooM; bntTonmtut 
cooliMf tlwt it WM your pUco to orariook mj My, You 
00^ to have tnatod me liko tbo child that I waa, and to 
hava beeoma my brotber again, as baTore." 

**Yoa want nta toooDTawall that, do yon? Bnt yon 
alwaya tnalad w» bangblily aflarwards — " 

"Why didn't yon langh at my hangbtineBi? Why 
didi^t yoa tak^uM by the tutod, and say, ' Sistar.yon an 
• little gooaa. Emlwaoa um, and let bypMiea be bygones.' 
That* s what yon onght to have done. 

*• What I Ton think I ought— " 

" Tbe moit reaaoDable is tindar an obligation to be iha 
aost ganerons." 

** And would yoa like matters arranged on that footing 

" It is narer loo lata to nnderstand each other, and to 
bring bade kind feelings that sbonld asvar ban beso cast 

"Well, then, are yoo sorry now to think that yon 
wooaded me?" 

" I am sorry, and I ask yoor pardon. Will yon grant 
it?" ■ 

"Ab, diaMtn I That is a difioreat thing, my dear 
ladyl Ton are in want of me nowj — yon want my 

"Tea, M. Antoine, I do. Hy son is orasy with grief. 
IbnT lum to tbe woman ha Ions." 

** Ah, there too are again I " cried U. Antoine, flasb* 
ing ont in anotner burst of rage. 

" It is where we began," annrered Uadam Thieny ; 
**IhaTeasked but one thing of yon since yon came hen, 
— firaadom of aetioa fbr Uadam d'Estnlla." 

*' Yes, and plenty of money berides, for eTarybody." 

" No, no money ; nothing at all I I told yoa we wen 
randy to resign yoor pnpartr. If you wiU allow ns to 
TSM this hooas of yoa, we will live lisra, and pay yoa tka 
wt,withplas tar ». If yoa n(lua,ii% wufc w>!iaiA.te 

ANTONM. aj^ 

Tonr will. But let at ^"^9"^ without •agar, and fbr- 
giva lu for beiDg hi4>P7 i lor, if our Iwutt an onlj wH^ 
uAed with each other, aad if we caa oalj feel that our 
bappiDeaa does not annoy jron, we ahall be ao in apita of 
our trialfl and priratione." 

li. Anloine was oonqtiered. Ashamed, he eaagiit at 
* laat twig of argoment : 

"Howprond jou arel" he said; "it is alwaya the 
same thing, and you are aU alike I if on have a contempt 
for iho rich man's money I Yoa despise it I ' Take it 
back again,' yoa say ; ' we don't want any of it ; wo 
have no need of it ; we can lira on the air I Wlwt is 
money, after all? If era pebbles, to an intelligent mind I ' 
And yet, my dear madam, money honestly earned by a 
man who began life with nothing but his wits, ought to 
be of soma account ! It is iho honey of a working bee ; 
it is a tropical flower, mode to bloom in an artificial cli- 
mate by the patienco aad skill of the master gardener. 
And you think it is worth nothing? With all bis genius, 
my poor brother know no better than to spend what ho 
worked like a drudge to obtain. I have a better way of 
neing my money ; I keep it ; I increase it every day, 
and I make people happy with it when I choose." 

"But what an you coming at, M. Antoine?" asked 
Madam Thierry, to whom Marcel, through the door bo- 
bind the horticulturist, was making signs which she did 
not understand. 

" This is what I am coming at : that you are not ao 
good a mother as you Imagine. Yoa are very willing to 
eacrifico everything else for your son, except your onn- 
tempt for the money I have given yon. I believe you 
think I stolo my fortune ; I bdieve yon think my money 
has a had smell." 

" But for heaven's sake why do you say that? What 
makes you suppose that I esteem you less than yon d»- 

" Because if you roaQy were a good mother, instead of 
talking soch nonsense as that, you would aay, * Brother, 
we are unfortnnate, and yon are rich ; you can save at. 
Wc «n A Uttla fitoUtb fiw wishing to pay eoort to HidMn 


'dTEstnlla, bnt that ii no nuon why jaa ahonld !»▼« na 
witbont bread, Ardoa na altogether, and once for all I 
Let w hava the privilege of loriog and of eating too ; if 

TOUT goodneea hamiliatea na, ao mach the worse for na. 
W« know that ran ar« a great man, — a magsiftcent 
' nan ; joa will take pitr on na, and grant all that we ask I ' 

Tbera, Madam Andre, that ia what yon wonld say, — 
that ia what yoa wonld beg on yonr knees, if necessary, 
if yon were really a good mother, instead of bebg a lady 
of rank." 

T^f^^f"! Thierry waa mate with astonishment. She 
lookod at llar«el, who, witbont being seen by M. An* 
toine, was energetically telegraphing to her, 1^ geatora 
Mtd pantomime, to yield (o the old capitaliat's fancy. Tha 
poor lady felt a moat painful reluctance, yet she did not 
beaiiate ; eh« glided down Arom hor chair to her footstool, 
■ltd kneeling uioro, took both of H. Antoine's bands. 

** Yon are right, brother," aho aoid, *' I onght to do as 
yon saj. X jriold. Be the nobhiat of man ; pardon all ; 

" Ton bava done ft at last, (hen I And jnat in time I " 
eried H. Antolne, raiaing hor; "and when people are 
reeooeiled ther embrace, don't they ? " 

Madam Thienj embraced M. Antoine, and Marcel en- 
teredjnatin aeaaon to appUnd. 

" There, now, Mr. Pettifogger," aaid the amiOenr gar> 
dener, '* a pretty Agnre yon ent I A fine plan of opposi- 
tion jon bad I Yon wore going to break and smash up 
•nrything, to fling your client and your family iota poV> 
arty, and all for tbe sake of not aorTMdering to a ridi man, 
—a poweifol man, — the natural enemy of poor people, 
aodofthoaewbodcm'tknowbowtomakemoneyl A fine 
lawyer you are, npon my w<m4 I a lawyer who can secnre 
yottr clients notbmg bat Ion and irj bread I Lnckily, 
tba woooaa hare more sense. Here are two of them who 
have been wishing me at the daril, and both of them 
hara gone down on th^ kneea to me this very eveniog ! 
Wen, sister, this doses the whole maUer. I will never 
" it to TOBf mind, fbr Z am a generona man ; and, 
r ' - BM,X kaow Iwii la wwwA. ^^Mim. 

UutOTOBr mio 
> paOfM Mtiify 



Tour loa shall many tlw pntt7 coojUom. I miut torn 
her out of h«r houM to ke«p poopla from laUun^, bat 
I will giva Julian tho Lotal d'EattvOa, and wn incoma 
of twaoly'^Te thouiand francs, aa « marriage portion. 
That's the way I do things I I know tbit woU that ytn 
have beea acting to-daj oat of policj, — I haren't baon 
fooled aa lo that, — and that ^ on will thank me to-morrow, 
once for all, and fbrget everything. But no nutter ; job 
hare done aa I viahed, — jrou have aabmitted, and I Mk 

" We will gire jaa a great deal more," replied 2 
Thierry, " for tou will not bo able to refuae the of 
of warm and aincore hearta. 'Yon will oxperionco • bi^ 
pinesa that rou ought to have known before, bnt we wiU 
try and make up for lost time." 

" Oh, that's all talk," aaid &I. Antoine ; " happiness 
is in boiog your own master, and I don't want any ono's 
help to mnka mo that, I don't llko brala and senti- 
moatality. I novor was meant for tho father of a family; 
but, if I bod boon bom n king, I should havo governed 
jny people excollontly. To command has always bees • 
favorite idea of mine ; and I reign over the kingdom I 
have, a groat deal bottsr tlian plenty of monarchs, who 
don't know what they are about." 

In spite of her anxiety as to what might be the reason 
of Julion's absence, and her desire to sood Marcel to find 
him, Madam Thierry felt obliged to invite U. Antoine to 

" Ob 1 " bo said, ** for my part, my supper consists of a 
crust of hard bread and a gloss of cheap wine. That ia 
my way ; I never cored much for eating." 

What he wanted was sot before him, and when he bad 
supped, Marcel hoatened his departure. 

" I am sure," he said to bis aunt, " that Julien is wait- 
ing for me at my house. He ia probably impotient be- 
cause I do not return ; bnt my wife will try nud moke 
him comfortable, Julio will amuse him, and if he abould 
fool worse, you can depend upon it he will be well eared 
Jnlien was, in &ot, exoessirelj impatient, notwitbataad- 


lof «II UidunllftTcel'a can RodkUentioa. Feeling rerj 
weak when bo reached Ibe houee, he had attempted to 
eiU a little, and to cQiartaia himwif with the prattle of liia 
little godsoa ; but when he heard the elock gtrike eleren, 
aod sair that Mareel did not retara, he could no longer 
eodore hie mortal nuponae. Sajriag that hia mother 
woald be nsoaa; if he did not retnm by miduight, and 
promiting to take a carriago to Sirros, he deparUid. In 
tact, be ^oceoded on foot, and br a roandabout waj, to the 
nw do Batnrlone ; ho thought It necoasai/ to take oreir 
pracantioD in order to gnM^d agalnat being teen and fot 
lowed, as before, bj lonM of U. Antoino'i agonta. Ho 
arrired, bowerer, lafely, and without attracting kkj ob- 
Mmlion. M. Antoina bad maintained his eapionago 
vpoa Julie long eoongfa to be quite certain that she and 
Julian nerer met, and then had gireo it up. 

Aa it atnck twelve, Julien entered the poTiIioo and 
fiHiDd Jblie Ibere ; be bad been waiting outaide the door, 
and she inside of it, for qnaitor of an honr. 

At this vary moment, Marcel, If. Anioioe, and Madou 
Thierry ware entering Fans ou their retom from Sdrres. 
U. Antoine's frugal auppor, and hia not rerj entertaining 
oonreiMtion, bad exhauatad the widow'a patience. She 
was anxiooa about her bos, and insisted upon having a 
eeat in the wogoo, ao that abe might join him at Maroel's 

Jalien, befbre meeting Julie, had armed bimaalf with 
aD bia coormge. Ho waa expecting a paiafbl explaoa- 
tioo, and bad sworn to bmiaelf to show do anger, to 
utter DO reproaches, to betray do weakneis ; and yet, aa 
ha opeoed the door, hia baud shook I'orerwhelDied by a 
andden paaai<m of fiiiy aad deapair, be heaitated, and 
drew balck ; but, on aeeing faim, Julie uttered a wild cry 
of joy, throw her arms about Ua neck, and preaaed him 
paaaionalely to her heart. It was so dark that neither 
of them eooU aoa bow changed the other waa. Their 
bumiag kiasee made them forget the fever raging in 
their veina. The fever of lore, which revivifiea, waa 
vidoriooa over that which dealroys. 

JaUaa waa the fliat to neovar Aon tUa aaoaneat of 

AltTOIflA. «39 

dolinum. AIarm«d, ntbor tiiaa inl « dc*ted IffJnlVa 
carcucs, ha inddeDly repaliod hor. 

"Ifjroa still Ion ma," ha Mud, "bow can 70V ooDMit 
to laave ma f 

" Boh I ** she auwared, " it if not, portwpa, toe ao 

"Yoa wrota that 70a wantad to bid ma an alanwl 
farawell I ** 

" I do not know what I wrota ; I waa out of mj aanaoi. 
But it n not poaiiblo for thoM who bvo oi wa do to part 

" It ia tmo thou that 7DU ara gtnng awaj?— And will 
jron comeback?" 

"Yea, — if lean. Bnt do not talk abont tbaL To- 
night is our own ; giva it all to lovo." 

Amid thair transports of happiness. Julian waa agaia 
Beized with torror. In the passionate words that ascapod 
' Julio there waa a mjraterious gloom, — n Muister for^ 
boding, which soemod to freeze the blood in his reiiis. 

"What is tha matter with you? " ho cried sudtlonlj. 
" You are deceiving me. Either 70U are going awajr, 
or you think you nro going to die I You oro ill ; I 
know you arc ; — the physicians baTe giron joa np, 

" No, I giva you my word that they promiso to cnra 

" Lot mo see your face I I cannot seo you ; lot tia go 
out from hero. I am afraid I It scoms to mo, at mo* 
mcnts, that I nm dreaming, and that it is only your ghost 
I am holding in jaj arms." 

IIo carried her into tho garden, but it was aknost ft* 
dork llicro as in the paTJlioc. 

" ifon Dieu / I do not seo yon ; I cannot sea yonr 
fhco at all," cried Julion, devonrad with anxiety. " loor 
arms have grown tliin, — yon are wasted away. Vou 
are like a shadow ; it saems to mo that your foot do not 
toiicli tho ground. Tell mo ; ore yon a dream? Am I 
here, closa to you, in this garden where wo bare booa ao 
bappy? I am afraid I shall co mod 1 " 

ibey approaobed tbo little lake, in wbich ibe olaar noon* 


Um 1^1 with ftll iU ■Un, wu perfectly mirrored, and there 
Jnlien axw tbet Medem d'Ealrelle wu pele ; the glin^ 
mering rediuice of the weter reflected upon her face, 
made her aoem area more wan thao ahe reallj was. Her 
great, hollow ejea, shiniag id the night with » f^Mj 
bri^ttMM, ahowed him how thin the had become. 

*' Ton ore djing I " Im cried ; " I am lore of it I That 
i« what made 700 eend for me. Very well, Julie ; Z will 
nerer leave jon again. If I mtiat lose joa, I will re> 
enre joar U«t sigh, and I will die too." 

*• Oh DO, Julien, 70a eaaaoti — Toor mother I " 

**Sbe ahall die with ua then ; will that tatiafy Ton? 
She wanted to die when she loat mj father; she said 
M, in ^ite of herself, in her first outbreak of sorrow, 
•od I know re^ well that she has cantinaed to live 0DI7 
fi>r mj soke. Since we three have only one soul, we wiU 
depart together, and we will go to a world where the 
purest love will not bo cooaidered a crime. There must 
be such a world for those who cannot understand the no- 
jost prejudices of this. Let us die, Julie, without any 
remorse or vain regreL Give me your breath, — y oar 
fvnt, — the death that is in jronr veins. I swear that I 
win not survive job I " 

"Ah ma 1 " cried Julie, who could not repress the 
passionate cry of her heart, "and I could have been 

** What did Touaaj?" cried Jolieo, with an exduib- 
tion of honor ; " jrou havo token poison ! Tell me,— 
have von? X will know," 

** No, no, I meant nothing I " she said, drawing him 
forward with a sodden, dospeiKte grasp, that startled 

Brading over the edge of the water, she had seen the 
vague reflection of her face and white dress, and hod re- 
membered that in an hour she would lie theT«, Mre(«hod 
oat, motionbss,— "dead. She had sworn itl In uq)ia» 
tioa of her violated oath, she most die, and as the 

Kof Jnlien's prosperitv. An agonising Gmt of death 
node her tronhle and dmw bock, 
' "Wbitt omTMi afraid off " he oAod. "What did 

TOO nedowntliaMinUwiretar? What tn 70a Uuak- 
iQg ftbont DOW? And trbj did 70a >Urt? Ste^.— I 
know ; yon mwn todici oow, Kt oaco, u soon u I am 
gone awKjr. Bat yon miut not. Yon ara mj wifo. 
Since 70U lora me wholly, yoa ere mine. I do not 
know whet oath you have token, nor to what oonstraint 
yon have been lubjected ; bnt I am your lover, your 
hoaband, yoor master ; and I disallow all each obligi^ 
tions I I vrill ran away with you ; rather, I vrill carry 
yon away with me, aa I have a right to do. I will not - 
allow yon to die, and my mother shall live also, and give 
you her blessing. I have strength enongb to protect 
you both ; no matter what hardships are before ns, we 
will meet them. Do not besiute any longer. IT 70a 
are not strong enough to walk, I will carry you. Let 
us go at once, Julie. The time tuts come when yon must 
acknowledge that no one except me has any rights over 
your life." 

lie drew her away in the direction of the pavilion, and 
as they again approached tbo water, the struggle between 
her love and her remorse became so violent that she gave 
a cry of horror, and clung to him with all her strength. 

*' I gave my word of honor to Icavo you," she said, 
" and I have broken it. And lam bringing your mother 
to poverty. Can you take away that reproach from me?" 

"You are frantic," said Julicn, "Since you have 
known my mother, have you seen her in want? Will any 
onecBt my right arm offto prevent ma from working? If 
so, I will work with my lofl 1 Kow I undorstaod cvery- 
Ihing. This was tbo revcngo that M. Antoino threatened, 
I ought to have guessed sooner whyhe gave us my father's 
Iiouso 1 Poor Julie 1 You have sacrificod yourself for 
our sake. But tbo contract is void : I have not given 
my consent; I have accepted nothing at all; I submitted, 
but without knowing anything of the circumstances. 
Do not tremble so. I absolve yoa from your promise, 
and woe to him who undertakes to remind you of it. If 
you hesitate, or ore alarmed, I shall think you are regr«U 
ting yonr fortune, aod have leu courage and Uu ktv* 

rm . m f 



«« Ah I thmi b what I was so afraid of I " said Julie ; 
^^oomoi let OS go I Bat where? How can I ever find 
courage to go to your motheri and sa/i * I bring you onlj 
poverty and sorrow?"* 

** Jnlioi if you doubt my mother, you no longer love 

^ Let us gO| then, and .find her. She shall decide for 
me. Take me away,-^save me 1 ^ 

Exhausted bv so many emotions, Julio's strength quite 
failed ; and, as he caught her in hb arms, Julien saw that 
she had fainted. There were no means of restoring her 
in the pavilion ; ho carried her back to her house and to 
her own room, where she had left the door opening upon 
the garden un&stened, and where he found a light burn- 
ing. When he had placed Julie upon a sofa, she quickly 
recovered her consciousness ; but, on attempting to rise, 
she fell back. 

**Ah, my friend! ^ shosaid, **I cannot move. Am I 
going to die? Is it too late for you to save me? Hark I 
There is some one knocking at the street-door, is there 
not?" * 

** No," said Julien, who had heard nothing. 

He tried to inspire her with a confidence that was be- 
ginning to desert his own mind, when they were both of 
them startled by a violent ringing at the outer door. 

** They are coming after me, •— to carry me off, per- 
hapsr cried Julie, bewildered with fear; ••they will 
throw me into a convent I The marchioness, — M. An* 
toine,-*one or both of them I And I cannot move! 
Carryme away, Julien I Hide me 1" 

** Wait, wait I ** said Julien, who had opened an inner 
door to listen ; ** it b Uaroel; he b making a great up- 
roar, and calling Camille* Sometliing important has 
happened, and he wants to warn you. Open the door, 
and see him** 

•*I cannoti* she answered in despair, after a vain 

•« Wen, then, I wiU go,* said JuUen, resolutely ; •^he 
may just as well see me here, ibr I wiU not leava the 
house withovt you** 

Ha huteoed to tlie onter door, when Haroel wm rin^ 
log «t R furious rata, and, befim soy of th« mttmiU 
had tim« to Hm and a«e what waa wanted, Jnl!an ad* 
jnitted Marcol and Uadam Thlany, brongbt tbem in, and 
dosod the doors again. 

" Ah, my child/' cried Madam Thierry, " I wrna rara 
that we ahould And yon here 1 VictoiT, my dear Julien, 
my poor Jnlie I Ah, I don't koow what I am Baying ; 
you mnit get well now j wo bring yon bappioeu I " 

Wliea Julie leaned what hod tokoa |Jaee at S^nat, 
ahe revired like a dying plaut in a ehowor of rain. H«r 
nervoua ercitemont puaed off in joyful tears. As Car 
Jalien, who had bcea dangerously ill tho day before, ood 
ntterly exhausted that very morning, he was like a paral- 
ytic, cured by a fortuDate stroko of lightning, who lod- 
. denly begins to walk aad leap again. 

Ai^r an hour of heartfelt bnppinesa and oongrataW 
tionS) Marcel committed Julie to CamiUe, who undertook 
to keep the seirants from babbling about this nocturnal 
visit, aod carried Madam Thierry home with him to get 
a litUe rest. Julien had already made his escape by way 
of the pavib'oQ. Julie sank into a sweet and deep sleep 
such as she had not known since her separation from 

Fortunately, M. Antoina, as we hare said, had long 
discontinued his watch upon the hotel d'Estrello ; and 
fortunately, also, tho .servants there were devohsd and 
discreet ; for if he had heard of the interview betweoa 
hia relatives and Madam d'Estrelle, the coosequesces 
migbt have been disastrous. Ho had signified his inteo- 
tion of infonning tho countess in person of her pardon, 
but he was himself fatigued ; his nerves were unstrung ; 
and ho was, at the same time, in a great state of Belf-«aU 
isfaction and pride. Accordingly he slept very soundly, 
and did not get up until a quarter of au hour later than 
usual. lie made up for this, however, as soon as ho was 
on his feet, by flying into a state of extra activity, that 
threw his whole household into alarm ; for IL Antoina 
' Was a man energetic in givlug orders, prompt in nUering 
threats, aad still more prompt in lifting his eoaa against 


ddinqiMiiti. la the twinkling of sa sjre tlw old botal 
de Helcy wu opened, swept, Kod put in complete order. 
Henengen wen sent off in ftll directioos, vA »t noon a 
•oiuptDOiu dinner wu Mrved. His guests, ueembted in 
the great gilded saloon, awmited some mysteriooa eTeat. 
Uarccl Qsbered in Mwdsm Thierrr and M»ilafn d'£strello, 
whom be had invited in behalf of the hosL Jnlion had 
alto received an invitation, and was present. Julio wh 
welocnned b^ Madam d'Ancomt, and Madam des Morgea, 
with her daughter and son-in-law. Th« Duke de Ques- 
Mj bad Act jet retamed, but the abbi de Niviireo was 
on baud, resolved to eat for both of tbem. Tlie pres^ 
dant^s wife did not keep them waiting, and, lastl/, Marcel 
was empowered to present to the ladMS a number of bo^ 
aaists, both professiooal men end amateurs, whoia M. 
Antoioe was accustomed to assemble around him on great 

It's eaoufa to make one die of laughter," said the 
Htess to Julia, drawing her into the recess of a win- 
dow. " The old ffentleman sent me an express st six 
o'eloek in tbe moning, to invito mo to be present at the 
bi^Misra of a rare plaot which is to be called bf his name 1 
Ton can imagine what a temper I was ia, at being waked 
op for such a thing u that I I was furious I But when X 
had read the postscript, stating that ;roa were to be pres- 
•at at the ceremony, I resolved to oome. &o, mj dearest 
fiieod, you are roeoitcilod with your old neif^ibor ? Very 
wall, so modi the better. Too took my advice, and r»* 
•ignod yootMlf to your fiUe. That's right. Mr. Oar* 
doner is not partimlariy sgre sable, bat five millions! 
Think of that I" 

Julie's other friends took a difierent view of tbe matter, 
Tbey imagined that bar creditor bad been making a set- 
tlement with her in aa amicable way, on terms satisfactory 
to both parties ; sod that they woald bo rendoriug Madam 
d'Estielle a ewica by aco^ting M. Auioine's invitation, 
Tbey qoeatiooad her, tutdar this supposition, and sha did 

, th<7 war* far from considering 
a saw pint as a pioMof poorila osli»> 


UtioB. U. AotMoe had nuda Mveral intarMting addi- 
tioiM to horticnltura. Ha had promoted iba accUmalicn 
of uaaful treei, and wu justly ootitled to faara hia nama 
neordod in tha aoiiaU of acioooa. A good diniwr, in ndt 
casas, ia never objectionable ; nor U the preaence of a 
DUinbar of agreeable ladJos nbsolutalj ineonaiatent with a 
proper discuaaioD of the graTe interests of botanj. 

When all were aasombled, H. Aoloine aaaumad a 
modest and good-natured manner ; alwaya, on tha rare 
occaaiona when he displayed it, a aura indication that be 
waa certain of having adiievcd some great victorf. He 
placed the company around a largo table with an object 
of conaiderablo height concealed under a great dome of 
whil« paper standing in the centre, and procaodod to draw 
from his pocket a manuscript of his own inditing, reiy 
short, fortunately, but which it was difficult to hear with- 
out laughing, since it took nacercmonionaly tho most 
fearful liberties both with French and Latin. This treit- 
tisc began with*' Ladies and Gentlemen ; " it proceeded 
to discuss the importation and cultivation of the finest 
known plants of the lily species, and ended thus : " Hav- 
ing been so fortunate (in my opinion) as to obtain, raise, 
and bring to perfect flowering a specimen, uniqna in 
France, of a Lilioccs, surpassing all thoso above onum^ 
rated in sice, perfume and splendor, I call the attention 
of the honorable company to tho individual in question, 
and invite tliem to give it a name." 

As he ended the reading, M. Antoine, who was armed 
with a long rod, dexterously liflcd the paper-covering 
from the abject before him, and Julion ntterod a tsrj of 
surprise ; for there, fresh and blooming in all its glory, 
be beheld the ^nfonta Thierrii. Ho thought, at first, 
that it was a trick, — a perfect artificial imitation of the 
original AtUonxa ; but as aoon as tho plant was reluaaod 
£ram ita covering, it exhaled a perfume that reminded 
bim, aa well as Julie, of the happy hour of their firat 
meeting. A murmur of sincere admiration ran arooad 
the table, u,d M. Antoine added : 

" Learned gentlemen, yon will pleaao to know that this 
jdant haa put foitlL two flowuvatama ; one, a prettj fin* 

MM, in the and of ]£»/, which wM brolwn off hj moei* 
dent, and ii preMiTod ia m; faerbuitua ; th» smnd in 

Aasoit, twica as Urgs and twica m full a« tb* other, 
wlueh liM bloomed, u 70a tee, on the tenth day of the 
Mud month." 

" B^(e it, baptise it I " cried Madam d'Ancourt. 
** I would like to be the godmother of tbli beoatiful lilj i 
bat I loppoee eomebodr elM — " 

She pouied, and lookod over at Julie, good-natorodlj, 
and yet ironieoUy. . The iava»U, without noticing her, 
iman i moaily proclaimed tbo nonw of Anbmia TJuTni." 

"Too «r«v«r]rgood,geaUemea,'* said U.Aiiloine,bluab> 
ing with pleoanre and ■tammering with emotion, ** but I 
dwira to raggeit a modification. It is fair enongfa tliat 
tbe plant should bear my name ; but I should like to join 
to it the first name of a person who — of a lady — in 
fiwt, I want to nomo it Julit-Anhnia-TKinTii.'' 

"It's rather long," obserred Moroel; "but tbea it's 
indt a toll plant I " 

** V«ry good ; hnmh for the Juii^AntOMa-TkitTii I " 
•nswerod the scienlifio gentlemen, with great roadinesi. 

"Tberel At lostl Brarol It is decided, thonl" 
«ied the Baroness d'Anoonrt, in so lond » Toioo as to at- 
tract the oUeation of the whole table. Poinliog to Julie, 
die clasped her ptnmp, whits bands, as a sign of on snti- 

STtrrbody uoked at Julie, whose Tirid blash brought 
bodt oU tbe qrlesdor of bor beauty. 

" PudoQ me, baronass," said unde Antoioe, with a 
sly expression ; " I decairad yon when I applied to yon 
to moia oa ofito of marriage in my behalf to the Countess 
d'Estrello. I wanted to see what you would say, and 
you did not refiise ; on the contrary, you odrisad the 
'young Isdyto accept me. This daoided ma to propose to 
her the person whom I really hod in ray mind; forlsaid 

roysslf, * If an a" * 

nold fallow like me is considered a proper 
Bwicn rar um young lady beconsa I have mouey, my 
Mpbaw, wbo is young, and wbo will inherit a large sharo 
«f.a>y mooigr, wHi sUnd * good ehoaea of bsing really 
•M^led.' ' Aooocdia^, lodiss and gmtknuiB^'^M^. "Mk 



eouMot of Mftdom dTftnllo, Z Mmonneo th&t Uw varioni 
diacustioiu that h»Ta takes place between her and mjMlf 
an lenainoled, >ad that peace ia etmcloded by tbe be* ' 
troibal of Madam d'Eatrnllo and mj nephew Juliea 
Thieny, whom I do m^Mlf the honor to praeent to 

"Ah, bah I the Toong painter 1 ** oied Uodom d'Ao- 
coart, irritated, without knowing whj, at Julien's good 
kwka and ardent oxpreuion. 

"A poiater?" cried Madam doe Morgeo, greotlj 
■hocked; " oh, mjr dear, it wu tme thea?" 

"Tea, mj friende, it woi tme," answered Jnlie, 
bniTelj ; " wo lorod each Other before wo knew that M. 
Anloine wonld rescne n« fVom the porerty whkh tluea^ 
ened na both." 

" I declare that M, Antoine ia a great man, and a tme 
philosopher 1 " cried the abhi do Niviirei. " If we oonld 
onlj have dinner 1 " 

" Let us go to dinner, ladies and gentlemen I " replied 
H. Antoine, oSering Julio his arm ; "you will consider 
this marriage a ro^Uinnce for the conntesa, but each of 
my nephews will have three inilliooa, — that will polish 
up the family, and my grond-ncphowe will bo rich enough 
t9 purchase tilhsa." 

Tbia Snol argument hod ita effoct upon Jolio'a frionds, 
who, after n little hcsitntion, offered her their eoDgnUolo- 
tions. She was obliged to accept the imputation of hav- 
ing sacrificed the dignity of rank for wealth. But what 
dill it matter, of^er oil? Julicn knew what she rsallr 
frit. ' 

Julie, — who was still in mourning for her fkther4a- 
law, ^ went to Sdvres to pass the rest of the aummer. 
S6vrce is on ooaia in Normandy, about two leoguoa from 
Paris. The orchards have a rural perfume, and the biU- 
aidcfl, thickly dotted with ruatlo gardona, wore juU a* 
lovely, and more oimple in thoae days than they are tX 
pTosent. Not that we would undervalue the amiling viUoa 
of tho S&vrea of to^y, with their splendid abodo-treeo, 
their pictnresque nvioes, and bold preoipicea deaoondiu; 
Abruptly to the river. The nulrood boa not j«t robbM 


tkii woodj n^oo of all iti pootry, aad it U very delight- 
fnl tobe able, in a quarter of an hour, to reach giAWf 
footpath* aad moadovre eloping to the water. From the 
top of the hill, through the erorea of trees grouped in the 
feregrODod, yon can lee Fana, grandly outliaod upon the - 
bhM hoiia(«. Three etepe off, at the bottom of the ra- 
Ttoe, proa loeo sight ahogelher of the gnat eitr ; and, 
aeeaptog eron from the giariog while of the villas, can 
wandor about in the real country, — a little old-Aishioned, 
bat fresh, eereae, and eveiywhcra gay with Bowers. ' 
Here Jnlie recovered ber health, which for some timo 
, was serionily impwrod ; and before their marria^, as well 
a* after it, ita and Juliea won all in all to each other. 
What society said and thought about thoir morria^, thoy 
did not even wish to know, Thoy liad a salOGieDt number 
of real friends, and Madam Thierry was the bftppicst of 
molbers. It is tme that titeir repoee was disturbed by 
the political troubles, whoso approach Julion hod fore* 
seen, alihou^ ho had not anticipated such swift and 
radical changes. Frank and gensrons, he made himself 
OTtremely useful in the neigbborbood by bis efforts to t»- 
Ueve the misery of the poor, and to prevent them from 
iadulgiog in acts of fatal violonoo. For a long timo ho 
preserved groat induonoe ovsr tlio workmou of tlic S^vros 
Motor)*, and those of the faubourg snrronnditig the hotel 
d'Estrelle. On certain occasions ho was ovsrborao ; but 
Bathing oould Induce bin to pursue a course tlint his con- 
■eleaee disonprevod, and be found bimsolf tbroatonod in 
bis ton, ana on Ibo point of being denounced as a sns- 
J^eioos poreoQ. Tbo ilnnness with which lie repelled theso 
Mipiflknu, Uw naorosit* of his personal sacrillGOii, and 
bis eonOdesoe when In Uie midst of danger, saved him. 
JoUe was not leas brave i.ber obaroctor was tnnslbrmod i 
•be lost hor timidity, and ber mind was strengUionod nnd 
developed by hor unioa with a noble and couragooui 
aature. She suffhred groat anguish at seeing num> 
bore of hor old iVtends seised by iho revolutionoiy ofll- 
«ialS| la ^10 of all that Julie could do to protect them. 
By wise adviea and leadble measurss she suocoodod In 
aaviutf MTCntl of Ihasa viotimt. Two aht eouMakd. ^ 


b«r own hooM ; bat ahe could not prwerro Um BmoqIm 
d'Ancomt, who botrsTod benolF )if tbo toij bxccm of 
her terror, and Kifiered fto extremoly mtoto impriMMf 
meat, ^e uilackT' MarehionoM d'Bitnllo ooidd «ot 
eoatain bor fnrj at baring to ooatributo bor BaviDgi (o 
the foKod loans, ood perished on tbo icafibld. The Daks 
do Quosnoy enigrotod. The abbi do NiTidroB, moro pro* 
dont, become « Jocobin. 

After tbo Boign of Torror, the snpprossion of ths 
monopolr of the rojrol establishments onoblod Juliea to 
accomplish * favorilo design : to iatraduco, pmetieall/, 
tbo iadastrial and artistic improvements, which, in his 
leisure at Sevres, ho hod been studying and ozperimonl- 
iog 00, Ho gained no profit by uoiog this, nor did be 
dcsira any ; in fact, bo lost mouoy, but he sucooodod in 
oloTaling the conditioo of many poor families. Accord* 
iogly he did not becomo rich, but his wife was bappy ia 
seaiog him pursuo his artistic labors and take pleMure 
in auperintcadiog the education of his childrea. 

Marcel bought a little Uoum at Serres, near Julien's, 
aod the two families passed together as many holidays 
and leisure days as the worthy lawyer, now an advocate, 
and absorbed ia busiuou, could spnro from his profcesional 
duties. lie acquired, by liouoBt industry, n rospectnblo foi^ 
tuno, ODil Jutioa lenmod to manage his property witli the 
prudoDco which his father hod lucked. It was well lie 
did so, for M. Astoine's property was confiscated ia the 
Itevoluliou. Tlio old man, who fell do dcsira for fnmil/ 
ties, contiuuod to live alone ; ho was as graoious as his iir> 
luro allowed him to be with his rcloiivos, whose grutitiulo 
flattered his pride, but* ho refiisod to outer into any rol^ 
tions which could lulerfuro with his own mode of life. 
Having promised Marcel lo nhaiidoa liis idea of inn^ 
ryins, lie kept his word ; but auoihor mania seised him. 
lie became interosiod in politics, and donouocod with 
oqunl fury whatever party chaneod to bo uppermost. 
Tho^ were all, ncoording to him, craiy, or blind, or 
stupid, _ The king was too weak, the pooplo were 
loo patient, the guillotino was by turns loo idle or too 
rorouoiu. Fioolly, the swift sucoasaios of Vn^adim 



conTnldng FHnc* •Mowd to confttM his misd, whieb 
Iwd ftlwATt bMD nuonod ratbor thut evil diaposed. Ha 
diuiged nil riawi, tod, «Aor advocating tho moat ultra 
uiivcalotto doctrine*, bacaiiM ridicoloiul/ coiuorratiTa. 
All tbasa Tagariea wara qnito luhnlats, for ha attempted 
no intriipic*, but eonlontod bimaolf with railing against 
pMpla waA erants, on tha tnw occauons whon ba nuda hu 
appearaoeo in sociatjr. Ha vas, however, denounced by 
•on* woAmaa whom ha bad iU4reated, and eama rerj 
near losing hit bead to pay for his unbridled bursts of o^ 
* Mnia eloquence. 

Julian and Ifarcel, \(j perseTsring efforts, induced him 
to quit tba botol da Uol^, vhero ho wu ovary d» in 
dangsr of brii^g down a storm upon bis hood, Thof 
kept him ia oonecalmont at Sirros, where be tormentod 
tbem greatly with his iU-hnmor, bendes compromising 
Ihem more than once by hia Imprudence. His property 
having bean placed in aequostration, be only recovered 
fragments of it \ bat be supported this great loas with 
nnch philosophy. He was like tboso pilots who cursa 
•nd swear during tha storm, but who aro quite calm 
while inrlog to save eomothiog from tho wreck. Juliea 
orged hut to take badt the property aattlod upon himself, 
bat ho raAisod to touch it. His garden was not soixed ; 
•nd having ultimately roeoverod it almost uoloucbed, ha 
nsomed his old babits, and became rolativoly good- 
hnmorod. Ha livod in the hotel do Uclcy until ibo year 
180S, and was strong and active, to tho lost. One day ba 
was foond dead, sitting on a the sun, bis watering- 
pot half AiIl by his side, and on bis knee an unintolligible 
matmscript,— the last IncubrationW bis exhausted Iniain. 
He ^ed without any warning. Only the day before, he 
had said to Marcel, — 

** Don't bo alarmod ; the millions that you were to bava 
iabeiited &am me, you shall bava. Let me only live ten 
yaars longer, and I will make a greater fortune than I 
■aada before. I have a plan for a constitntion that vriU. 
mvo FVaaoo from fortber disttu-baooe ) when that is set* ' 
tied, I will give aome attsntioB to »y own a&irt, and r»- 
ma nj «3^oct trade." 




A STUDY of the ]it«nt(aro of lonsoagei other thu 
our own is daily boconuDg more Doceuftiy to ' 
the completion of an even modenttelj good educatioo. 
To thoae who aim at culton, an oxteniivQ acquaintance 
with foreign worlu is impomtiTo. The limits in this 
direction widen rapidly ; and everything which makei 
Oil* source of koowlodgo accessible is of value to the 
public, and demands ackuowledsmont. The onaouQce- 
mont of a trauslatioQ of tho novels of Ooorgo Sand is 
an event of importance in tho history of American liter* 
aturo, aud renders appropriate » somowhat olobomte 
ezaminatioa of tho claims to our attoation posscsood by 
this writer, who is almost without dispute allowed to be 
the greatest of EVonch romanco-writors. A brief anal- 
ysis of some of bor numerons works will sorvo to indi- 
cate, in some measure, the rich f^nd of eatertoininent 
aod the vast stores of thought contoiuod in the romances 
of George Sand. We hope that most of them will be 
pven u> the pnblio in the promised series. Ko oinsJa 
author could bettor serve the purpose of exemplif^nf 


Dm moct prominont uid oontnitiTa qiialiti«i' of modem 
Fnadh geniaa, or «n«bls u to obuin r mora cttmidete 
Idaa of iu derclopmeat nndar tha formi of philowphf, 
poUtici, nligion, and all otb«r aocUl prablemi. 

Ando from tlw intrinaio difibnnou which axiit b»> 
twMB tho idioDU of th» two Ungnagea, then ara oUiar 
atronglj marked diaumilaritiea ia French and EogUih 
litarattue which aeem to be iohereot in the natnre of 
••di. If the idioms present what maj be callod mechan* 
kal difflcoltiee in tho tranilator't path, aince it ii certain 
• preoM aqnivaleDt cannot alwajs be giren in one Iaa> 
fsage fi>r an expreaiion in another, so that tho translator 
b not iDfreqnently obliged to choose between a litaral 
T«rbal aoenrao^ which fiula to reader the subtlotj of 
tho aadwr^s thought, and a free tranalatioD which opena 
tba way to a dirersity of style ;.so, also, what we shonld 
call the aatiooal diSereoeos lend to preserre the foreigQ 
tone Bod aspect of the book in its new tongoe. It 
nqaiies oot only skill and qnicknesB of perception to 
tnaalate ■aeoenfolly, but also the power of taking on 
the very garb and fkshimi of another's mind, in order to 
gire those delicate shades of meaning which help to 
naka up that impalpaUe bat positive thing which wo 
call aa anthor^a style. Of this we hare mors than nsoal 
pnaiae ia the translatiMs before us. 

French aorels hare shared with their English cod- 
taa y or a rica in tho great impulse which has carried them 
to ft Ugh position among the social forces of the time. 
They ban baoone a (aTorito naedinm for tho dissemio* 
•lioQ at now theories, tho diseossion of difflcnlt social 
q— stkins, and the promnlgation of new remodies for 
kaaaaiUs. "Telemachns" a&d"Faiil and Virginia" 
WnykUad to KNBuwaa which eibtoAite ^iuk ws^m^*^ 


of HumeriBm uid Fonriarism; of Commoniim iDd 
AgTsrioiiiam ; or Mt forth in ftotoAii fermi tha MadB> 
■ioni of Kristocntie AUiMua or Jkahioiublo RmtfioiiB. 
6omo vn devoted to tha building up of political eootti' 
tntiona, othen to tbo touing down of roligioiia cmodi. 
Othsrg, aguo, coatent thcmaslTH with the narrower 
field of obaerretion contained in a atn^ hnnoaa heart ; 
but OTOD then thej bring to the analjua of their anlyeet 
the aid of prerioua metaphjiical practice, and awwnbli 
together the rareat pajchological phenonMiw. In the 
painting of excopUooal chamctor, in tho akill vith whidi 
tho inner springs of action ar« laid open to tho reader, 
George Saad has no rival but Balsac, while in tho 
choice of her Bubjects thore ii more geniality and mon 
&!th in human uature. 

It is useless for tho warmest admirers of French 
novels to deny that there is ver/ generally pravalent in 
them an atmosphere of immorality, a disregard of many 
restraints dear to most English hearts. Iliis element is 
more or loss prominent, more or less offeusivo to Ibe 
taste, according to the breadth or delicacy of ti^miUnj it 
receives. It is judged dangerous or culpable by each 
reader for himself, according to the degree of cloeeness 
in his own moral reasoning ; for tho term immorality, 
when applied to novels, is remar k ably etostio, and there 
ore few subjects in regard to which a wider diversity of 
judgment exists. When the ottiectionablo quality is in 
coorso and conspicuous relief, — when it is mado the 
maiuBpring of action in tho diaracters and tbo plot,— 
when, in short, it is the grand intention of tha book,^ 
it generally assumes a repulsive form, and becomea so 
tmiaviting as to prove comparatively harmleaa. Thors 
Is much less mischief to be apprebaoded £rom audi pco* 


diMdou than from thoM ia which «a sTil mMn- 
ing ia Ttilod booMUh a ■kilfU dnipeij of Mntimaat, 
•ad adoTMd by ibt ekgut nflaemont of k poetical 
taita. Thii flDdi an iatidioiu wmj into tho miod, lik* 
thoM poiaoai, vhieh) admiaUtond by imtwrcoptibly 
iaeraaiiDg qoaDtitloa, ponetrata through the whole $j»- 
Un with bat little rlilble tign. Those work*, on th« 
vatnry, which bear their mark onblmhiDgl/ upon tha 
■orfiwa, at eoaraa and rulgar men upon their brow, are 
tnnied awajr from the door at once; or if snirrepti- 
tkHuly introduced to miniater to aome depraTod taste, 
•re eooeaaled on the approach of rintora, at tho impulae 
of a shame which ia, in itaelf, an indication that ita 
owner ia sot jet b^ond hope. 
Aaeag the worka of George Sand majr be found aoma 
' whidt certainly lie open to condemnation, if w* jodga 
them Minmaiilj and withont regard to the eircnmsta&oea 
under which thej were written, which, in our own 
cqunion, bj Ihmiahing an^Ie explanation of their origin, 
iV^*"^ from die critic, at least, a modified verdict. In* 
deed, eran on general principlea, it is not strange that she 
ahonld catdt a portion of the spirit of her time, — a qtirit 
viiidi ia, as we hare said, almost univenaL 

The reasons for tho preralence of this immoral tone ia 
modem fVeoch literature are b^ond the limits of our 
■alyeot. It has been lottg in exiatonce, and fbstend bj 
the protecting care of the boat intellecU in the nation. Il 
has come now to be hereditary, and oach new author 
•ntera upon it aa upon a portion of hia patrimony. Hia 
predeeeseon hand it orer to him aa they thomaelTea 
raceired it, with aodt additiona aa drcnmstancee haTo 
•Babied them to make to it. It seems to be imposttUe 
te a FriMh writer of the psMent day to eotii*^ diTwt 


' luiDMlf of R tonden^ to Keptlcal philoMtphuing oa A* 
grftTost anlyMiU, or to freo him§elf from w, genani nm^ 
«rene« whon ho q>proachea tho docpor mjnteriM of lib. 
Thu ii noiUter wiUiout expUoation nor bxcoso, ao fir, at 
lout, u tho presont gonoration Ii ooncsmod ; it u in tbt 
' air thoy breaUie thna corlieat childhood ; it is in humaoj ' 
vith the aocioty of tho world about thorn; and thdir 
ehoiOMt libraries ore redolent of its subtle odor. W« im 
Um risk of great uniaimoss in making np onr crilicil 
judgment, if we omit this fact in the examination of 
modem French literature. The time, wo hope, h^ forefor 
gone hj when the status of people in this life and lbs 
next can be determined bj tho ijm dixit of « few iodivid- 
uals, who would apply to all tho world tho inflexible miss 
which aoit to admiration the exigoncios of their own &bj^ 
row naturea, but which fail of all application the momoit 
a new varic^ of the human species comes forward, or 
the TilmUiona of tho human temperament obtain room for 

Few authors hare been so difierontly judged as Georgo 
Sand ; bo indisoriminatoly lauded, so unchoritabljr ooi^ 
demned. Those who sympathize with her hare found 
little to censure ; those who do not, have found littlo to 
approve. A thousand idle tales about hor hare fonod 
eirculaUon and credence ; wretched translations of a few 
of hor most ultra outbursts have done her i^justico. But 
Time is coming to the rescue, and a now estimate, — at 
least BO far as all but a am&lt circle of readers is con- 
cerned, — is being placed upon tho value and the beaoty 
of the creations of her genius. SometUing of the same 
change has also passed over her works themselves ; the 
passage of years, and perhaps also tho indulged nipiuiiiciii 
of her views in her earliest writings, have oodled the aidw 


of har d«ntincutiou. agBinat aociatf, ood etlnwd tb* 
freiay of bar tMiitonw to aeUblirfad inatitotJOM. lanme 
of W first roBunoea, — u in " InduoA," " Jaoquoi,'* 
ttnd " Ulis," — tlM earned a npototion which has doog 
to hsr like the poieoned gument of Nessos, and which 
anne pouogei in her pereonol hiotorj did mnch to con< 
firm. "Indiana" was a flower of the tro^ea, blMMmiiig 
in impruned laznriouce, and exhaling a pmaonooe perflima 
from vnrj petaL The other two, idoto carefully written 
•sd more refined in style, cnlminote in a eablimoted sen- 
timentalinn, and belong in • region of ixnpoesibili^ m to 
diorocter and plot I bot in coneoqneaee of their lin g nlari^, 
■nd the nnmietakoble pnmuM of great power which they 
ponets, thojr are worth/ of attention ae indicative of a 
troanent bat intense stoto of feeling in the author, £i 
judging of most of the writings of George Sand, h is 
tt Wfitff y to know more of her own lift and experience 
than is re([uired for a &ir eritieism of meet anthon, fiir 
llw reason that in thom she, to on unosoal degree, ox* 
priiisi iUrfcI/. Thej have genoroUjr been considered 
more or less dugoisod episodes in her own lustoi7, or, at 
' least, OS phases of her inner life, pointed out wiih ima^ 
inai7 aoeessories. Though we ore rerj &r from accepting 
this resemUonce as in vaj degree litenl, and from belier- 
ing Qiat her characters are in anjr narrow sense portraits, 
wo /et fM that her intense personal!^ has so fhsod her 
own experiences in the crucible of her genius, so assin>> 
Hated bar outward influences with her inward emotions, 
that the remit has given vs rare insight into a most rich 
and varied life. We hear the cries of her braised heart, 
the Aoots of her various enthusiasms, the annooacements 
of i^anga and jngraM in her moral aod intoDoetnal pod* 
tka. B«lntitifaiBthaw«ridoriit«atBnw«t«nad» 


orer tha niliu of her domestic pMca, ud it was mtanl 
that she Bhoald ondoaTor (o proro tb* intolonUa ir^^ 
of tha social joko, u tha best plea for haviD^ banalf 
thrown it off. Tha ardor of her diapoution did not aUov 
her to be calm in the battle she wu fighting, or eran to 
. bo oTor-fastidiooi in tho choice of weapons. 

The desire which tha public long ago manifested fof 
some knowledge of the woman who conU pour forth sodb 
daring, pasaionata complaint, and who eonld clothe her 
thoughts in such a gloiy of eloquence, called out the moat 
contndictoij narratives concerning her. The deacriiH 
tions of the life, and oren of tho person of George Sand, 
were colored to suit tho supposed taste of thb public, or 
the projudico of tho individual who furnished the infoi^ 
mation. For a. long time Madame Dndovont was looked 
upon u a sort of mTstcrious vampire, about whom, how- 
ever little could be proved, eveiTtbing horrible mi^t be 
believed. This mlat of exaggeration of course dis^ 
poared after awhile, but many, people felt astonished 
when Ihoro oraorgcd Irom it a figure of most feminine 
'propoTtions, a face of refined uid dignified bean^, and a 
heart of warm and tender bonovolonce. The frequent 
indications we discover in hor works of generositf , eoergj, 
grandeur, and aweotnoas, ore all tho honest outgrowth of 
qualities deepl/ rooted in her nature. 

A few words ore necessary to recall to the reader's 
mind the salient iacidents of Mme. Dudevant's life, for 
the purpose of making manifest the intimate union whidi 
has always existed between what aba has been writing 
for the publie and what she has been living, and it ma^ 
be suffering, in private. A most interesting and detailed 
account of her birth and early years is to ba found ia 
her " Histoii* de ma Vie," which ia an admirable piacs 


of uulTtie ntrofp«edoa. Wi h&ra only tpM* for the 
BKMt DMign outlioM. Sha ckinu deM«Dt from tlw 
giMt MmhjJ S«xa ; tad trt doubt not that thii ancw- 
I17, with t\M bar uoitlcr, b inoro a nattar of prido to 
bcf Ihaa if the Chnrdi had sanctifl«d all the dagreei of 
* hombkr lineage. Bom at a time when rerolntiona 
ware vnrj^j oconmocaa) nnnod amid aocial eonvnl- 
iioiu, and nuroonded bjr all the alarm* of war, her aar> 
liaat Impreationa mmt hara taken most decided form and 
flotor tma the drcnmstances of her infanejf. Xezt fol- 
lowvd a wild, nntrammeltod conntrj lift nnder her 
pandmother'a roof, on a& eatate still the larorite reai- 
_ denee of Mme. DaderanL 'Dian tvro or three yeara of 
xOXtAj difiereot a x iatanca in a Fariaiaa convent, where 
aba ifant throogh a Meaoa of religioiu exaltation and 
intaiua iatrOTonion, — som* idea of which naj be 
gained throngfa tha atoiy of "6piridiout" to which it 
gara riae. At eighteen aha maniod U. Dodavant, a 
inaa whom aha bad bo reason to lore, and who was 
vttariy imaoited to her in enrj raipecL For ei^t 
7«ava aha atrnggled agalnat bar fate, aswiled bjr thooa 
parplazitiaa and diaoonragainanta, whidt are all tha mora 
Intolerable, baeaosa tha worid impoaaa iilaooa on the 
■ off er e r, and ia ohaiy of aTmpalhy towarda nnh^pj 
wirea. At length the left her luuband to the aodatj of 
hia abaep and osan, — orratbar ben, for their boma waa 
bar own proper^, — went to Paris, commenced her lib- 
anuy eanar, and Uoodenr Dodarant woke np ona 
noning to find himself fomona as the bosband of a 
WMoaa who no longer belonged to him. Her first sno- 
oaMfol pn b liaa t ioB waa " Indiana." Her choice of • 
new itf l mM la aaid to have arisen oat of a eorabioation 
ifttoaaaaofbarMaod JniM SMlMA^tnA^^ ^ms^ 


of the publiahcr's acceptance of her KSS. on St. George's 
"Day. She is said tu hcivo written thirty toIuidcs in t«a 
jcurs. This notiriag iaduatry shorn hovr great must 
have bcoQ, to her, tho roliof of pouring oat her long 
pent-up indtgnatioQ and cnihusiasm. Mcautimo a Icgul 
Bcparntion from her husband was obtained, and she was 
. roiusiatcd in poascssion of her estate of Nohaat, tho rer- 
eoues of which had been appropriated until then by him. 
She suSercd much from pororty in her early Paris days, 
and gives. Id her autobiography, a very piquant account 
of her iagoQiooa devices against it. Oco of them was tha 
adoption, when she went out, of masculino habiliments, 
which proved a double ndvaatage, — first in tl\e way of 
cheapness and durability, and nert as enabling her to go 
where she pleased unmolested. She formed ianumc^ 
able friendships among artists, scholars, and literary 
men, and soon took among them a rank she has oltrays 
since maintaiiied. Her personal appearance is, as wa 
have said, by do means that which those who regarded 
her ond her works with horror would imagine. Her 
Bofl, abundant hair ; her mild, expressive eyes, — which, 
as Ueiue pithily remarks, " recal neither Sodom aor 
Gomorrah " ; her kindly smile, and reserved but gentle 
manners, are anything but Amazonian ; and her tiny 
feet do not suggest the treading out of all the conveii- 
lionaliems and most of the propriclics of life. She has 
sometimes been compared to tho Ycnus of Milo ; and 
now that ago is dimming tho brilliancy of iicr appeal^ 
anco, it makes more apparent the quiet dignity of her 
whole bearing. We sco frequent paragraphs in circula* 
tion relating to her method of life, her Lterary and social 
habits, and her especial cbarncterbtics : it is well to take 
them without entire reliance upon them \ bat their puny. 


bar aod nriatj are proof of the eoutant interett which 
ii fUt in tho nlyoct, Li ipito of the snppoaed portrMU 
of harwlf, which, in the opinioD of the ignorftnt, abound ' 
in her fletiont, the b!u been reiy ehu/ of real aelf- 
levelation ; and even in tho ten Tolumea over which her 
**Hi>toira do ma Vie" czteitda, the diaplayi groat akiU 
in AToidiog anj diKloeuroa or nnveilings at which the 
nort fksti^one taste could revolt. But in her vorka of 
imagination her own vitality lo flUe her chonioteni with 
life, and in her own oxporienoe to many pecoliar natures 
have oome nnder her observation, that it is by no means 
strange that her women have in some hdm the stamp of 
her own patnre, and her men the same salient character* 
tsUes as those with whom she has been in daily contact. 
Batf as in most of the so-ealled portraits in flelion, for 
one pirint of resemblance we liave « hnndred of dissimil* 
arity. Aa example of this we may qnote as quite la 
point ; it is from a letter written by a friend to Ooorga 
Sand, when the pnblio were lijlng to establish the, iden- 
tity of the dukncter i^ L61ia with George Sand her> 

" Ca na vous ressembla pas, k vons qui ttes gale, qui 
daasei la bourrio, qui npprtcies le lepidoptAro, qui na 
neprieei pas le calembonr, qni oe eoosei pas mal, et qui 
faltea trls-bien les eonfltures." 

We make this extract with the greater pleasoret 

beeaose it proves the existeaee of so many of the domea- 

' tie, genial, and comfortable qualities nde by tiA» with 

the rarest giita of genius and the creative aaergy of • 

most brilliant imagination. 

It is, tlterefbre, from a vaiy mlnj^ web of dream* 
itaiws aad tamperanentt from a rare nnlon of beao^ 
■ad InUDaet, af |«lkosa> ud ddaH»t{t»&.%\&KM 


tnnw fun of activi^ vai ezdtenMat, wd abMirbad in 
bborioui udiMkud •todjr, Ibat we mart uk tha mnri- 
tng ud seek for the kejr to the wriliost of Goorge SuuL 
U i* in contempUtiDS the womui tli«t w« batter mtde^ 
•tend tha author, and it is in stndTing (be nnthor that 
we learn a wider cbnritf towards the woman. Wo naod 
not shriok from admitting that sho ha« somatimea orrod, 
both oa the woman and Iho author, for (hronsh all we 
■00 a s^'sat heart palpitating with intense life, — awqit 
tamoUooasljr along at times through deep and tnrbid 
waterS) but noTor quite submorgod beneath the billowa. 
Alwajrs grand in her anger,' passionate in her Ioto, gain 
erous in licr instincts, fierce in invective, but novor nai^ 
TOW in bar judgments, there aro few women formed in a 
mould BO noblo as hers. Tbo silenco with which she has 
met the innumerable attacks mode upon her and bar 
works i the quiet pertinacity with which sho lias gone on 
dovclopiug and enforcing aud illustratiog the groat prii^ 
clplos of froodom for which sho strivoa, form, in our jndg> 
moDt, Uirough its cootrost with thosa natnros which ant 
led only by ill-conBiJorcd impulse, a strong ground from 
which to combat Ibo assertion, agreed to even bjr xauaj of 
hor admirers, Ibat in bcr books sho has recklessly laid bare 
the hearts and lives that should bavo boon sacred in coi^ 
oealmont. To an imaginiUioa so rich ns bors, what sood 
to paint too closclj from life? Wa protest against tha 
almost uDivoraoI practice of laying rule and mcasnro to 
artisUo creations, which, thoogh the germ of their con> 
ccption might have arisen in the duty walk of life, 
remain fiulhful, not to tbo prosaio development of the 
persons who suggested them, but, raised into the npper 
air by tlio artist's power, live and move and act under a 
now heaven, or mdu for ihemselvos, and tlu other aeton 


on Um imaginaiy tcene, a bell of tmgOTemable passion. 
It ma./ be a delicate task to draw the line where resem- 
blance ceases and separation begins, but it is cmel to 
bold George Sand responsible for broken faiths and reck- 
less betrajals, becanse she first loved Chopin and Alfred 
de Mnsset, and then wrote **Lncrexia Floriani*' and 
** Elle et Lai.** Eren in admitting that she had each of 
them in her mind, we hare ourselves no question that in 
an the circumstances and details of her romances, she 
deviated veiy widely from those episodes which stand 
finth in her own life ; and we firmly believe that, in spite 
of the way in which the virtuous world has shaken its 
wise old head over these sad scandals, it has really not 
obtained any more definite knowledge of the private life 
of George Sand, or the characters of her friends, fix>m 
those books, than it might easily have learned from out- 
side sources. Grossip, finding a small bone to pick, is 
very apt to imagine there is a great deal of meat on it, 
and to growl and scold over it in most dog-like fashion. 
If fictitious characters are not in any degree like the 
people about us, we declare them unnatural ; if they are, 
we can them portraits, and denounce the indeUcacy of 
the author. This is so common that hardly any author 
of genius escapes it ; we hear constantly of the originals 
of the heroes and heroines of novels. Charlotte Bronte 
sufiers as much in this way as George Sand, in propor- 
tion to the number of romances she wrote, and the prao- 
ticabiHty of applying the story to her own life. She was 
Jane Eyre, she was Lu^ Snowe, everybody was some- 
body else; she was almsed for transporting into her 
fictions the people and the places that she had seen and 
We take great pleasure in quoting, in eoutteotiftBL^i^aJ^ 



thii pottioii of oar nilgoet, tome vMydmiiablo ttaa a Ag 
pablished roeomtlj in the Ntw York Eveming JW, in 
regnrd to Qoorgo Sood'i lut novel, " iSaigritOal" : 

"Am to the qoestion whotluir that diameter (UDe. 
d'Ortoia) ii ntHlj mooat for tbo EinprcaB, it U ono whidi 
nooda no difcOMioa for thoao who undontmud the priDci- 
pln on which » work of art u constructed. G«(H;go Sand 
ii on artiit ; and it it not an artist, but a vnlgar and eon^ 
monplaoe writer, who photographs living men and women 
in a novel. That the wonderful career of Eagenia de 
Guzman must have been in th« mind of the author when 
aho wrote "Malgr^ut," and ma/ even have euggeatad 
some of the traits in the adventaresi there describod, does 
not prove that the character she has drawn was supposed 
by her to be identical with 007 ono in real life, or even to 
throw any light whatever upon it." 

A complete enumeration of Gooi^ Sand's novels is 
not necessary to furnish proof of her enormous industiy, 
infinite versatility, and ozhaustless imagination. Wo will 
select from among them some which may be conudered 
^ical of each class, not so much for critiusm, -^ for they • 
have been liberally criticised in their day and boor,— bat 
to give to those who have not read them soma faint idea 
of the amount of original thought, deep and varied r^ 
search, rare learning, and unfailing knowledge of hnmaB 
nature, which meet together in one whom Mrs. Browning 
has so happily designated as the ** large-brained woman 
and large-hearted man." 

" Consuelo," the longest of Groorge Sand's novels, was "^ 
introduced to the American public through an admirable 
translation by Mr. Francis George Shaw, in lUfi. It is 
probably the best known of her works in this oonntry, 
and the diaroctar of " Consuelo ** is recognised as a cn»> 


tion of BKWtnra and delicate bewit/. nieetayielu^j 
dnuaatio at interraU, and in the paoaes of iU action dtera 
ooenr deli^tful passaget abont mnsio and art, erudite 
diMonknu on philoaophy and theology and mesmeriam, 
M WttU at mnch historical information drawn from oat-o& 
Ihe-waj ionrcefl, and made instinct with life. 

** The Connteu of Budolstadt " ia a sequel to " Con- 
dmIo," bat inferior to it in interest. We hare glimpses 
of tiM court of the great fVederidc, of Toltaire, and many 
other eelebrilies. It tonches upon necromaner, Freemox 
■amj, niDminism, and forma a meet bizarre mixture of 
mnsia and polities, psychology and strategy, dram* and 
riiapaody. There are passAges of great eloquence which 
yet linger in oar memory; one, in particular, which ei> 
. doMs a resiimj of the eighteenth oentnry, which is worthy 
of • doMB readings. 

** Ifauprat," the Tolmne with which the present series 
oftrasslatiou commences, is the history of a nature bora 
aitd brought up under the moat bratalising influences, but 
maioifig, throiigh all, enough of nalivo nobleness to r»- 
q^ood almost anhesitatiogly to the demands of an unselfish 
lore, and led with slow bat certain steps, ^ for erea 
when Uauprat warers, we know he will not fall, — up 
to a serene W^t of Tirtne, and • fweat aoeeptanoe of a 

**L* petila Fadattfl" is qnita a different kind of stoiy, - 
and brings befbre ns a sweet end often pathetic pictnre - 
, of mral doouttie life. It is like the scent of Tiolcts and 
the song of birds ; it Is one of many opportaoiiias al^ 
ftrded ns of diteoraring the intense lore of nature In 
Unta. Dodsvant, of bar keen senaitiveoess to iu beauty, 
and her delieata ajipreeiation of ila most aaUle soerets. 
Briaf and aimpla as it is, it la moat poaitiva In too* and 


color, ud, like k paintiog hy Ueiuofuer, contah* a 

UiouMnd delicata deUBi on its snuQ cutu. 

"ToTsrino" ia the hutor^ of a tonumr's daj ud 
night, ipont Dpoa the frontier of lUlj hj s iadj oad her 
loTor ; the motive-power of the itoij being found in the 
fkct thst the lorer has oadertnkeD to keep the lnd7 well 
unused for the tinta stipulated. The conditioa is that 
she shall nsign herself to his guidnnce entirely. Tbef 
start off in a carriage, and a piquant conreraation oh 
snes, which forms the fint part of the enlertainment. 
Then follows the meeting with an odd series of compan* 
ions, among them tho beautiful and graceful Torerino, 
who produces a tremendous, but fortunately a transient, 
effect on the heroine. Tha charm of the atoi^ is in the 
descriptions and Bcenerjr of the book ; it has tho com- 
pleteness of an idjl, and its repose also, except for the 
brief excitement of Sabina, from which no harm results. 

In the charming story of " L'homma de Neige," we 
are traiuportod to a climate and a society the Tory anti- - 
podes of Torerino. The cool, crisp air of northern 
Europe braces instead of enervating ; the Anrom Borealis 
gleams with ghostly splendor, the sound of aledge-bells, 
and the sight of huge mountains of snow, help to heighten 
tho effect of a romance full of interest. As a long^^ou* 
cooled mystery lies beneath the surface, we re&aio from 
giving the ontlioes of the tale, lest it mar the Mat with 
which our readers will eqjoy its perusal. 

" Le Ficciniao " brings us back again to soft Sicilian 
akioa, to the gardens, tho scenery, and the tweet indolonoo 
of Southern life. In this novel, as in " Consnelo," the 
desoriptions of out-door life in these favored regiuu is 
most exquisite. TVe seem to hear the sweet music of 
the Meditonmnean waves, tha singing of the nightingale. 


and to bnadia lli« perfomas of «iichaDt«d girdsni. Ooe 
of Um moat moKrltabU pecolkritioi of Goorga Sand w 
a writer, it tha faeililj wilh which ahe throws herself M 
eonplatelf iato tha atmo^liara of each tbarj in aoccea- 
woD, neiiiiDS equal!/ at home in all. The mwe m lUiu 
of bar iinallaat atoriei, a* that of " Le Mara ao Diable," 
«r "Ganariira," ia ai tboroag^'lT 1° heaping wilh tha 
oeeatton, aa it ia in tha longaat and moat alaborata of her 

b **La Confeiaion d'mw Jeuw ElUe," a etiU mora qniet 
^dara of coaDtT;f lifo ia painted, AH the intareat, and 
it ia great, oomas from the Tibrationa of tha inner natnra 
of tha heroine ; for, altliongh the plot Ia ikilfnlljr man- 
aged, nad tlM other characters present strongi; marked 
pecnliaritica, yet it is for the effect wliieh the/ produce 
upon the derelopment of the beroine that tliej are of 
vahia in tha stoiy. In this romance, we ban one of tha 
ftw inalancea in which Ooorge Sand has erer crossed the 
Xogliib ChaaiMl &r an addition to her dramatia ptnona; 
bar genins la coatineatal, rather than insalar, and tboogh 
in thla eaaa she doao not make a failnra in delioeation, jet 
ahe falla short of complete soeceas. 

** Laone Leoni," written in 1833^ while the anthor was 
residing at yeniee,-is in our opinion the most otyootiOD- 
abta of George Sand's lomaaoes. It ia an attempt to 
deaeriba a masealine " Uanon Lescaot," and to sotyeet 
to his eril dominion a feminine '* Daagrienz.'* Painted 
with eoosommato skill, rich in all the eotors of her most 
passionate pencil, the rarj lines flowing from her pen 
with an the hoaejod awaetaesa of the language, wUeh 
mat bar own ear aa she waa dreaming out her theme, — 
toe wa know of no other instanes in which the nsnal 
■bMealo «r tba FlFMdi ii M iata>{eMMwi «m\. vAAmA 


bjrlhe loftTOwols of lbs Tnacaa, — 6«n!g« S«od Iim 
prodocvd a mmaUrpioc* of psTchologiatl moa^pn^ but 
one from wtiieh Um heut uid Uata «Uka nndL. It idbj 
mil ba that such uUares hara existed, and done their eril 
work, M hidooos dJieeici work borrible comptioa on the 
iaiToet forma, but we doae oar ejet «s we paei thom, 
nolesa it ia oar own ineritable teak to panae and labor to 
alienate and conaole. Simply to examine cnrioaalj and 
ToIuDtariljr would bo almost impossible, for most. 

" Los maltrea Sonneon " is a breath of frcah air after 
learing the fetid odors of the lasaretlo of " LeoM 
Leoni." The change of scene brings about a change of 
characters ; and, in returning to ber own weltlorod land 
of Bern, George Sand once more restores us to Ibo 
healthful oxygen of her favorite homo. Sho cnjojrs with 
all her heart the societj of hor compatriots, and whether 
in the close companionship of oqnal frioudships, or in 
seekiog to nnderstand and to portray the idioajncrasiea 
of the simplo but sturdy peasantry around her, she der 
lights to gire to the Berrichons the titles of comrades and 
of friends. In this pretty story of " Les maitres Sod- 
neurs," the author's love and knowledge of music come to 
the sur&ce, and mingle with artistic effect in hor delinea^ 
tion of tho character of Josef ; and in Brulette we hare one 
of those gentle but ferreut and self-sustained feminine 
natures, which wait with silent patienoo through the ar3 
days, and bear without elation the vindication which time 
ia sore to bring. 

" Les maitres Mosaistes " is a talo of Tenetian life 
in the time of Titian and Tintoretto. While these 
great painters were placiog upon canvas the maalei^ 
pieoes that the world has ever since delighted to 
honor, osrtain other aitiata were bnsy in bringing to 


perftotkn iha sister«rt of mowio puDtiog. Among 
theM wen tbe two wns of S«bud«n Znccftto ; ood the 
■torj opeu with hii pfttbetie ngrots tlut hu waaa have 
w«ttder«d from oil-puoliDg, the tine depertment of geoios, 
into monio-working, which he reguda m below tho dig- 
ni^ of the eitiet. Ho moonu orer tho &me they 
mi^ bAT« WDQ OS pftinten, peniita in conudenDg them 
U men utiMiu who can nover obtftin n reftl renown. 
Tbe hiitory of their efiorts, their petient etnigglo egainst 
Ii^Detiee from wilhont end treMhery within, thoir eof* 
ftringa from the nupidooa aneltj- of the CooDcil of 
Tenioe, tbe jeelooer of their brother ertists, end the in- 
gratitude of one of their own popils, are all told with a 
■kill which roreals the intricate workings of both the' 
bolter utd the worse sides of the eitistio notore. lo 
Franoeaco we haTO genius and taste in connection with 
coneeientknu talent, which dieciplines and steadies all bis 
efforts; In Tol&io, that form of genius which works 
ywtaneouBly, but spasmodically, — fidling into carekssness 
and neglect at one time, hut rising to the grondcnr of in- 
qiiiation at another, and with a tmtb and nohill^ of 
porpoee beneath, which ultimately obtain complete >d- 
jsemoey. In the Bionchini we soe the hatred and jealons 
mrj whidi often fonnd their way into the impnlsire 
Italian artist^iatare when it was not softened, and purified, 
and elevated by an ^preeiation of art for its own sake. 
la Bona still another type of character Is presented,— 
an insatiete dedre for fame, with on ovorweoning estimate 
of bimaelf, prompting a reddess dlar^ord of all restraint 
in Sjiekhg to make a reputation, and finally loading to 
erima against tboae who stand In his way. There ore 
admiraUa pfetoraa of the quaiat> derioes and adonunata 
of Taaadaalifti tnwUBltnL'iVTi^&.^^EmvMk^^ihW— 

ifoysLS or. gsosgs saxd. 19 

ouled bat uiutciwI ^miu^ of Um Conndl of Tea, tad 
of the BubtU muuwr in whidi Ait, at that period of 
Italian history, yroM interwoven with the public and pri- 
vate ofiun of all the citixena. 

la ititnis contratt to thoee romanoei in whidi the lore 
of nature or the lore of art is made i^ paroot, we maj 
mention " Horace," in which the picture of aooal and 
artificial existanoo ii portrajred, as deaiij and mirif riMriiTtj 
as if the author had apeat a tifetime in its atodj. Of the 
aucceu which crowned hct efforts, perii^w the moat cob- 
eiae eridcnco may be Aimishod from the piquant prttken 
which accompanies the second edition of the noreL <* it 
must be that Horace ropresonts a modom type, Torjr fiutb- 
ful and very wide-spread, for tliis Iwok baa made for me 
a doscn wcll-condidoQad enemies. Voa^ whose acquaint- 
anca I do not possou have pretended to roco^ize them- 
aelves in it, and have colled down curses upon mie fw 
having so crnclly unrotled them. I, howerer, repoat beie 
what I said in mj first preface, that I have made taj 
sketch from no person whatever, but have taken it fi«m 
evcTTwhcre and from nowhere." It is, in simple fact, 
life-like in such interior and mbtle fashion, that one maj 
well tremble at the contemplation of a personalitj to 
intense, a selfishness so deep and ingrained as to often 
permit of utter unconsciousness on the part of its po^ 
aossor, an affectation of Tirtue so exquisite as to pass 
current even with its owner's moral sense. When enough 
of youthful froahncsB, of oHginal talent, of cultivated 
taste and of fascinating grace combine to make a Bonut^ 
he will have admiring and devoted friends, himkble woi^ 
shippers, and solf-eacrificing adheionta. The kej^iote of 
the book is touched in its opening sentence,— "noes 


fnmmM who inspire m with the greatest affeotioDi are nol 
alwajs those whom we esteem the mosi.^ 

'^Antooia,^ whidi is the second in the series of 
translations, takes its name from a flower, the growth 
and blossoming of which enter into the plot of the 
romance. Snggestire, in this way, of **La Tulipe 
Nmre ^ of Dumas, it is quite unlike it in having for its 
owner a rascal instead of a gentleman ; and so far firom 
riTaUing the heroine in the affections of anybody, it 
fiJls a victim to her first expression of admiration, and 
bj a second flowering assists amiably at her restoration 
to life and lore. The scene of the story is in Paris, the 
time is in the last days of Louis XVI* ; and though the 
Berolution is not prominently introduced, yet the disor- 
ganising influences which preceded it help to form the 
social atmosphere of the book. Much of George Sand's 
contempt for and disbelief in the arbitrary distinctions 
of sode^ are perceptible in it ; and she seems to take 
pleasure in placing the affections of her heroine upon a 
man on whom the great world would look down. The 
diaracter of H. Antoine is of such a peculiar cast, so 
made up of cruelty and kindness, of rerenge and gener- 
osi^, of obstinacy and flexibility, as to almost defy 

** Uonsieur SylTOStre,^ whidi is soon to follow ** An- 
tonia,^ is a comparativdy recent production of the 
aothor, and possesses some of the finest qualities of her 
genius. In it George Sand gives expression to much of 
the most modem fonn of metaphysiod research into the 
human heart, and rehearses many of the tantalising 
promises whidi tempt the mind into the region of 
abetraot reasoning. The ibroe and vigor of her s^le 
ave apparsal on evwy page,— the courage with whidi 


■be maeti and qneftionB the deep nqfitariee of Ub, the 
doqoeiioe with whi^h she dieoonnee <hi eoloeete irikidh 
lie neerest to the human eool, and the calm poeilifiaoei 
with which she eondcmne delinqnenciee on whieh the 
worid looks leniently, make of thie little 'irohnno a lU 
mine of terious thought. Certainly the qoostiott, ** Whal 
it hapi^nees?'* has seldom roeeiTod audi oxbanstivs 
azamhiation under so attraetivo a ferm. Tho eontiaals 
of character are admirably managedt Fierrei tbomjh 
dreamy and delicately constituted} is yd praetaeal in 
action and patient in onduranco; Fhilippei wbooi wa 
know, as it were, chiefly at second hand, is stroog in 
quiet sturdiness and good sense ; II. Sylrostra is genial 
and trustworthy through all Lis eccentricities ; and llHe. 
Yallier is wise in tho wisdom which comes throiigh dis* 
cipline, and rich in qualities that dcrelop with the 
demand upon them. Tho plot, although subordinate to 
the philosophy of the book, is by no means insignificant. 
George Sand's taste in the arrangement of details, and 
conscientious core in regard to all accessories, are seen 
in the pictures of country scones, in tho grouping of the 
characters, and in even the minor indiyidualities which 
pass across tho stage. 

But it is in ^^ Lucrczia Floriani,'* as it seems to us, 
that the genius and the poetry, tho analytic power and 
the spiritual insight, the passion and tho concentration, 
— in short, all the greatest of George Sand's intelleo- 
tual and imagiaative qualities culminate into greatest 
perfection. For sustained interest, for deep and subtle 
pathos, for psychologic truthfulness, and for artistic 
managomout of most carefully-selected material, we do 
not know its equal, even among her works. It would 
require more space than we con give to analyie and 



daicribe its mmirdloiii power ; and it has this peonliarity 
in oomiiMm with that which aooompaoies the experience 
of tboio. meo and women who possess an exceptional 
temperament— the J will be all or nothing to those abont 
them* The charm of a work like ** Lucresia Floriani ^ 
is not one to receive nnirersol recognition ; bnt to those 
to whom it speaks at all it brings a message, ererj sjl* 
laUe of whidi is rich in meaning, and which can never 
be forgotten. Bj soch it will bo studied with delight, 
and treasured with jealous care ; by others it may, per- 
haps, be read with oolj careless curiosity, from its sup* 
posed eonnecUon wich the author's own experience, — a 
conne ct ion which, as we hare endeayored to state most 
emphatica Uy , is none other than that allowable to' a great 
artist who seeks her material as the painter and the 
sculptor choose theirs t the sunset belongs to the one, the 
hnman frame to the other; and when they produce a 
picture or a statue which delights the spectator, we find 
in them no senrile copy of narrow imitation, but tiie 
great facts of nature as seen through the idealism of art. 
It will bo seen that an exhaustive examination of even 
the surface-matter of Georgo Sand*s nor^ Is would require 
a volume. TVe pause here, not because the subject les- 
sens in interest, or because our pen is weary, but because 
a proper limit has been reached, and enough, wo hope, 
been said, to awaken renewed interest in this most 
remarkable and frequently misunderstood woman and 
artist. No one since Shakespeare has equalled her in 
versatility ; no one over surpassed her in the fervor of 
her efforts for the cause she loves; no one ever lived 
down such an amount of pr<\)ndice, misunderstanding, 
aadf we may add, so ma^y hasty and impulsive expres- 
aioos of her own. If Bakao rivals hat in da^tflitiaiq^O^ 





weaknesses and anacknowledged meannesses of tlie 
human heart, and dissects with more sarcastic cookess 
nerves and fibres that qoivoir as much with shame as 
with agony, he cannot equal her in portraying those sen- 
timents and awakening those emotions which arouse an 
answering thrill in our own hearts, or which send ns 
forth into the world to act a nobler and a less self- 
centred part. If the lessons which she teaches do not 
always fit the pattern of a narrow and long-established 
sectarianism, -^ \t% in the revulsion of feeling under 
experiences which few of us are called upon to bear^ 
and of temptations we are not required to resist becauso 
they lie not in our path, she is sometimes irreverent 
of long-worshipped social idols, — they are at least rich in 
all the unselfish promptings of a ^nerous heart, in the 
kindliness of a wide and sympathetic nature, and in the 
appreciation of all the great efforts ever made for the 
elevation of hnman nature and the freedom of tho 
human souL 


bt JUSTIN McCarthy, 

Reprinted from «• Tk9 Galaxy*^ for liay^ 1870. 

\1[7^ aro all of us probably incliDcd, now and then, to 
waste a litllo timo in voguoly spcculatiDg on what 
might havo happened if this or that particular ovont had 
not given a special direction to the career of some great 
man or woman. If there had been an inch of difTcrcnco 
in the size of Cleopatra's nose ; if Hannibal had not lin- 
gered at Capua ; if Cromwell had carried out his idea of 
emigration; if Napoleon Bonaparto had taken service 
under the Turk, — - and so on through all the old familiar 
illustrations dear to the minor essayist and the debating 
society, I have sometimes felt tempted thus to lose my« 
self in speculating on what might have happened if the 
woman whom all the world knows as George Sand had 
been happily married in her youth to the husband of her 
choice. Would she ever have taken to literature at all ? 
Would she, loving as she does, and as Frenchwomen so 
rarely do, the changing face of inanimate nature, — the 
fields, the flowers and the brooks, — have lived a peace* 


fill ud obwnn lift in wme bi^ipf cooaby pUoa, Mid 
btra oonlcnt with borne, and &mil]r, and love, and nerer 
tboa^t of fiuM? Or iU thu happilj married, the atilt 
bad allowed bor geniu to find an expreiuoo in liter- 
•tnre, wonld ahe have written books with no paationate 
pnrpoee in them, — books which might havo uomod 
like thoea of a good Miia Mnloi^ made perfect, — booka 
which Fodtnap might hare read with approval, and pnt 
without a Bcmple into the hands of that modest Tonng 
person, his daughter? Certainljr one cannot bat think 
that a difierent kind of earljr life wonld have given a 
quite difibreot complexion to the literary indiridoality of 

Bolwor Ljtton, in one of his novels, insists that tme 
geniDs is always quite independent of the individoal sof- 
Aringa or jojs of its possessor, and describes some 
inspired yonth in the novel as sitting down, while sorrow 
' is in his heart, and hanger gnawing at his vitals, to 
throw off ft sparkling and gladsome little fiury tale, 
ITow Hue is nndonbtedly troe. In general, of any high 
order of genios ; bnt there are at least some great and 
striking exceptions. Boossean and Byion are, in modem 
days, remarkable illustrations of genius, admittedly of a 
Tety high rank, governed and guided almost wholly by 
the iodividnal fortones. of the men thonuetves. So, too, 
nost we speak of the genius of Ooorge Sand. Kot 
BoMissan, not even Byron, was in this sense more ego> 
tistle than the woman who broke the chains of her ill- 
aaeorted marriage with a crash that made its echoes 
beard at last in eveiy civilised country in the world. 
Joit aa people are constantly qootiog nout ovom dum^ 
iMrf esta who never read a page of Moliire, or jmkt «»• 
mwn $ tr In Mrfrss without even bein( aiWU% ilMlaMunM 


ti ft atofr of Toltain^a called " Cftodidfl,** m then Iwra 

beoD thooaands of poasionato protesta altered m Amories 
«ad Europe, for the lui twenty yean, by poople wbo 
Dorer aaw a Tolume of G«orge Sand, and yot are ooly 
eeboing her sentimonts and oven repcaUng her words. 

In a fonnor numbor of Tha Ocdaxy, I oxprcaaod 
carnally the opioloa that Goorge Saad ia probably lite 
moat influcaUal writer of our day, I am still, and delib- 
erately, of the aame opinion. It must bo rcmombcnd 
that TOiy few English or American authors Iioto aoy 
vide or deep influoDce ttvor peoples who do not speak 
EDgUah. Even of the very greatest autliora this is tmo. 
Compare, for example, tbe literary dominion of Shake- 
epcaro with that of Cervantes. All nations who read 
Shakespeare road Cer^'outcs: in Stratford-upoa-Avon 
itself Don Quixote is probably as fainillnr a (iguro io 
peoplo'a minds as FalslofT; but Shakespeare is little 
known indeed' to the vast mnjority of readers ia the 
country of Cerrantcs, in iho land of Daiilo, or in that 
of Racino and Victor Hugo. Id something of the same' 
way we may compare the influence of George Sand irith 
that of oven the greatest living authors of England and 
America. What influence baa Cliarlcs Dickens or 
George Eliot outside the range of the Englisli tonguo ? 
But George Sand's gouius has been full ns a power in 
evciy country of the world where people read any man- 
ner of hooka. It boa been Iblt almost as Rousseau's 
once waa felt; it has aroused auger, terror, pity, or 
vild and Fopturous excitement and admiration ; it has 
rallied around it every lostinct in man or woman which 
is rovolntionary ; it has rouged against it all that is coit- 
ierrotive. It is not so much a literary influence as % 
groat disorganising fbroe, riving the rocks of cnatom. 


nMdvlog Into thotr origiul akmratt the Boatl combi* 
. utioD whieh tndlUoD and coDTentioD would declare to be 
Indlnolnble. I un not now spoftking marfilj' of the tea- 
timoDU which George Sa&d doei or did eutertain od the 
•object of nuuriago. Divostod of oU itartling ofibct* 
ftsd IhriUiag dnunoUe iUaetratlou, thoee eoQlimeaU 
probably unoimtod to nothing more dreadful than tho 
belief that an nnwedded anion betwooa two peoplo who 
lore and are true to each other u leai immoral than the 
legal marriage of two uncongenial creatnrea who do not 
lore and pnboblr are sot true to each other. But the 
grand, lerolntionary idea which George Sand announced 
WH that of the locial independonoa and eqnoUtj of 
woman, — the principle that woman is not mode for man 
in anjr other leDM than as man la made for woman. 
7or iha flnt time in the history of tho world woman 
^oka out for herself with a voice as poworAil aa that of 
man. For the first time in the history of tho world 
woman spoke out as woman, not as the serront, the 
Mtellite, the pnpil, the plaything, or the goddess of man. 
Kow, I intend at present to write of George Sand 
nlber as on individual, or an inflnenco, than as the 
•athor of certain works of fiction. Criticism would now 
bo Buperflnoosly bestowed on the literary merits and 
peenliarities of the great woman whose astonishing intel- 
lectual activity has never ceased to produce, during the 
last thirty years, works which take already a classical 
place in French literature. If any roputalion of our ,day 
nay be looked upon as established, wo may thus regard 
the reputation of Ge«ga Sand, She is, beyond cont- 
parisoo, the greatest liring novelist of Franco. She hat 
won this poaiiion by the ntoet legitimate application of 
the gifts of oa artist, With all her morveUous feeandi^, 

eaosGs SAND. 5 

dw bw hwdlj' OTW girai to th« world ujr woik wbieh 
dooi not Mem, at loMt, to ban boea tba mbject of tbo 
mott eUborato tnd patient core. The grootosl tempte- 
tion wbieb triei a itorj-tellcr is perhaps Ibe tcmptatioD 
to roljr oa tho atlractircnoM of atoiy-toUiog, and to pay 
liulo or no attantion to •(710. Walter ScoU't prose, fiv 
example, if regarded at mora proM, is nunbliog, irro^ 
nlar, and almost wortkless. Dickons'* prose is as bad a 
model for imitation as a mosieal porfermance which is 
out of tono. Of coarse, I need bardlj sajr that attention 
to itjrle is almost as diaraeteTistie of French aathors in 
genera], as tho lack of it is charactaristie of English 
anthon ; bat, eren in Franca, the prose of George Saod 
stands out coospicnoas for its wonderful cxpressiveneas 
and force, its almost perfect beauty, Tlien, of all 
modem French authors, — I might, perhaps, say of all 
modem Dovolists of any country, — George Sand has 
added to fiction, has annexed from tho worlds of rcali^ 
and of imagination tho greatest number of original char> 
acters, — of what Emerson calls now organic creations. 
Moreover, George Sand is, after IlousAeau, the ono only 
great French author who has looked directly and 1ot< 
ingly into tho face of Nature, and leomod the secrets 
which skies and waters, fields and lanos, can teach to 
tho heart that loves them. Gi(ls such as those hare won 
her the almost unrivalled place which she holds in living 
literature ; and she has conquered at last even the pnblio 
opinioD which once detested and proscribed her. I 
could therefore hope to add nothing to what has been 
already said by criticism ia regard to her merits as a 
novelist. Indeed, I think it probable tliat the minority 
of readers in this country know more of George Sand 
tbrongh the intorpretatlon of tb« critics than throngh tha 


psgM of ber books. And In hw cu* criticism is so 
Bcsriy nnuiiiDOU M to her literary merits, that I m&jr 
Bslslj Msama the pnblio in geoenl to Iwts ia their 
minds » jut reoognition of her poeitioa ss ft norelist. 
Uy oliJMt is nther to t»j something «bont th« pUce 
-wliidb Gwrge Sand has taken as a social leTolatioiiist, 
nboat the ioflDsnee she has so long exercised over the 
worid, and abont the wonum herself. For she is assor- 
•dlj the greatest champion of woman's rights, in one 
•ense, that the world has ever seen ; and she is, on the 
other band, the one woman ont of all the world who has 
been most commonly pointed to as the appalling example 
to scare donbtnil and fluttering womanhood back into iu 
sbeapfold of snbmissivonosa and convontionalitjr. Tbere 
Is bardljr a woman's heart anywhere in the cirilisod 
worid which has not felt tbo vibration of Goorge Sand's 
^fci-aiitig Toice. Women who' never saw one of her 
books, — naj, who never heard even her nam de pluma, 
bavo been Mirred bj emotions of doubt or fear, or repin- 
ing Ar ftmlHtion, which they never would bare known 
bat ibr Oeorga Sand, and perhaps but for Goorgo Sand's 
naeoogenial marriage. For, indeed, there is not now, 
aad has not been fbr twenty yean, I venture to think, a 
nn^ "revolutionary** idea, as slow and steady-going 
poople would call it, afloat anywhere in Europe or Amer- 
kn, on the snbjoct of woman's relations to man, society, 
•ad destiny, which is not due immediately to the influence 
of George Sand, and to the inflncitce of George Sand's 
nnbi^ipy marriage upon George Sand herself. 

The worid has of late years grown osed to this extrik 
Ofdinaiy woman, and has lost much of the wonder and 
twror with which it ones regarded her. I can qnite 
nmsmbar,— yoongsr peopk than I can renenber,-* 


tbe dma when kH good Kud proper peraooftgee ia En^ 
Und regarded the ftnthoreu of ** Zodiaaft " &■ a eort of 
feminiae fiend, endowed with a hideooa pow«r fi>r the 
deitnictioa of souls, aod en inextingnuhable thirst for 
tbe dftnghtor of nrtnoni beliob. I fancj a good deal 
of this sentiment was duo to tbe ftorful reports woftod 
across the seas, that this terrible woman bad not morel/ 
repndiatod the marriage bond, bnt had actually put ofiF 
tbe garments sacred to womanhood. That George Sand 
appeared in men's clothes was on outrage upon oons^ 
crated proprieties Ux more astonishing than anj theo- 
retical onslangbt upon old opinions could be. Beformen, 
indeed, should always, if they oro wiso la their gonoi^ 
ation, have a core of tho projnieties. Many worthy poi^ 
pie can listen with comporatiTO fortitude when sacred 
and eternal truths are assailed, who aro stricken with 
horror when tho ark of propriety is never so lightly 
touched. George Sand's pantaloons were, therefore, 
regarded as the most appalling illustration of George 
Sand's wickedness. I well remember what excitemo&t, 
scandal, and horror wore created in tho provincial town 
where I lived, some twenty years ago, when the editor 
of local FaDJaodnim (to borrow Hr, Trollope's word) 
insulted tbe foolings and tho morals of liis constitucnta 
and Bubscribera by polluting his pages with n translation 
from one of George Saod's shorter novels. Ah mo 1 tho 
little novel might, so fur ns morality was concerned, 
have been written every word by Uiss Fhelps, or tho 
authoress of the "Heir of Bodcliff"; it bod not a word, 
from beginning to end, which might not have been read 
oat to a Sunday-school of . girb ; -the translation was 
made by a woman of the purest soul, and, in her own 
locality, of the highest name ; and yet bow virtue did 


■brittk oat againat tlitr pnblicfttion I Tha editor perM- 
Tared in iho pnbliBhing; of the noToI, Bporred on to bold- 
BaM hy KHae of his xwj jronng aod therefore fearless 
coadjutors, who thoaght it dolightAil to confront pnblio 
ftpioira, and liked the notion of the atara in their cotinoi 
fluting against Sisera, and Sisera not being dismayed. 
That diarmtng, lender, touching little story 1 I would 
anbmit it to-dajr eheerfally to the verdict of a jnrj of 
matrons, confident that it wonid be declared a fit and 
proper pnblication. Bnt at that time it was enongh that 
the itoiy bore the odious name of George Sand ; public 
opiaioD condemned it, and sent the magaiiaa which Tcn- 
tnred to translate it to an early and dishonored grave. I 
nmember reading, about that time, a short notice of 
George Sand by an English authorcu of some taleol 
aad cnltnn, in which the Frenchwoman's novels were 
daiaribod as so abominably filthy that even the douiaena 
of tba Paris brothels were ashamed to be caught rea^ 
ing them. How, this declaration was mads all in good 
&)lb, iit the Hinple good &itli of that class of persons 
■wh» wiU pass wholesale and emphatic judgment npon 
works of which they have never read a single page. 
For I Doed hardly tell any intelligent person of to-day 
that, whatever may be said of George Sand's doctrines, 
du is no mora open to the charge of indelicai^ than tha 
aathoraas of '* Bonx>la.'* I cannot, myself, ramambar 
any passage in George Saad'a novels which can be called 
ipdalicata; and, indeed, her aevereat and moot hoatila 
critics are fond of aaying, not without a certain justice, 
that one of the worat eharacteristics of bar works is the 
delica^ and beauty of bar alyle, which thus comraenda 
to pure and hinoeaat minds certain doetrinea that, 
bnadly stated, would r^^ and abock them. Were I 


• 9 

ODO of George S«od*f inveterata opponents, thia, or 
■omething like it, is the groond I would take op. I 
would say : ** The welfare of the human familjr demands 
thai a marriagei legally made, shall never bo questioned 
or undone. Marriage is not a union depending on love 
or congeniality, or any such condition. It is just as 
sacred when made for money, or for ambition, or for 
lust of the flesh, or for any other purpose, LowcTer ig- 
noble and base, as when contracted in the spirit of the 
purest mutual love. Hero is a woman of great power 
and daring genius, who says that the essential condition 
of marriage is love aud natural fitness; that a legal 
union of man and woman without this is no marriage at 
all, but a detestable and disgusting sin. Now, the more 
delicately, modestly, plausibly she can put this revolu- 
tionary and pernicious doctrine, the more dangerous she 
becomes, and the more earnestly we ought to denounce 
her." This was, in fact, what a great many persons did 
say ; and the protest was at least consistent and logical. 

But horror is an emotion which cannot long live on 
the old fuel, and even the world of English Philistinism 
soon ceased to regard George Sand as a mere monster. 
Any one now taking up ^^ Indiana," for example, would 
perhaps find it not quite easy to understand how the 
book produced such an eficct. Our novel-writing women 
of to^y commonly feed us on more fiery stuff than this. 
Not to speak of such accomplished artists in impurity as 
the lady who calls herself Ouida, and one or two others 
of the same school, we have young women, only just pro* 
moted from pantalettes, who can throw you off such glow* 
ing chapters of passion and young desire as would make 
the rhapsodies of *^ Indiana" seem very feeble milk-and- 
water brewage by comparison. Indeed, except for some 


of iba dawriptiou in th» opming ebapion, I fail to'wa 
maj eztnordiDuy merit in " Jndianft " ; utd towwd the 
•od it Menu to me to grov Terboae, weak, and tireaomo. 
** Leooe Xreoni " opens with one of the floeat dramatio 
outbonta of emotion koown to the literature of modem 
Action ; but it aoon wanden awajr into diacnrsiTO weak^ 
aett, and onl; JuU toward tho cloee brightens op into • 
bunt of lurid splendor. It ia not those which I maj call 
the questionablo noreb of Qoorge Sand, ^ tho norels 
"Which war* beUored to illustrate in naked and appalliog 
nmplicilj her doctrines and her life, — (hat will boar up 
Imv &ma through succeeding generations. If orery one 
of the noTels which thus in their time drew down tho 
thunlers of Society's denunciation were to be swept into 
the waDet wherein Time, accoiding to Shakespeare, car- 
ries serapa for obliTion, George Sand would still remain 
whan she now Is, — at the haad of the French flctioD of 
bar daj. It ia tmc, as Oootho sajs, that " mirado- 
working i»ctnres are rarely works of art." The books 
■which make the hair of tho rospootabla pnbUo stood on 
flod ai* not oflon tho woriu bj whioh tho fluna of tha 
Mrtbor b prosorrod Ibr poatoritj. 

It Is a ourioDs fkct that, at the oorlj timo to which I 
bwa bean alluding, Uttlo or nothing was known in En(f* 
land (oTt I prosnma, In America) of the roal Ufa of 
Anma Amandina Dopin, who had boon jdeoaod to call 
barsalf Oaorga Sand. People know, or had hoard, (hat 
•ha had aa p aratcd from her husband, that she had writ- 
ten DOrels which depredated tho aancti^ of legal nup> 
riaga, and that aha sometimes won male eostomo in tha 
■Iras tt . This was anongh. In England, at least, wa 
«am laady %i Iniar any %ootaatj rsgarding a woman 
ute WW nuomid oa lb* bgal maniage qoastkn, and 

G30XGS SAJflt,- IS 

iibtt did not WMT pettiooaU. What wonld lutTS bean 
nid hod poopla thea conunonl; known half the itories 
which wore drcnhUad in Fftri*, — half tho cxtimTaguices 
into which ft pmionata oonl, and the itimnlns of suddea 
enoncipa^oa from nstroint, hod hniried the oathoresa 
of "Indiana" and "X<acrezia Floriani"? Forit must be 
owned that the life of that woman was, in iu eoiiier 
ToarSf a stranga and wild phenmnenon, hnrdl; to bo com- 

. prehended, perhapa, hj ABWrieao or En^h natona. I 
bare heard George Sand bitterlf omugncd cvca b/ 

.. ponona who protoated that thej wcro at one with her at 
i«gards the oarlj aentimcots which naod to oxcita each • 
odium. I have heard her doacribed hj luch aa a aort of 
Lamia of litorotura and paosion, ^ a creature who could 
Hiza some noble, generoDS, youthful heart, drain it of ita 
lovo, its aspirations, its profonndest emo^ons, and then 
fling it, aqueezcd and lifeless, away. I have board it 
declared that George Sand mode **copf " of tho fierce 
and passionate lovos which ahe know so well bow to 
awaken and to foster ; that she distilled iLo life-blood of 
youth to obtain tJio nuxtnro out of which she derived bor 
inspiration. The cliorgo so commonly (I think ui\justl/) 
mode against Goethe, that lie plnyod with the girlisli lovo 
of Bettina and of others in order to obtain a subject for 
literal^ dissection, is vebomcntly and doliboratcljr iup>d 
in an aggravated form, — in many oggravolcd forms, — 
against George Sand. Wbcro, such accusers nsk, is that 
young poet, endowed with a lyrical genius rare indeed in 
the France of later days, — that young poet whoso ima^ 
ination was at once so daring and so subtle, — who might 
have been Bfiranger and Hoino in one, and have risen to 
on atmosphere in which neither Stronger nor Heine evvr 
floated? Where is he, and what otQ influence was it which 


Mppad the ttreDgth of his natorei oorrupCed his geniua, 
and prepMred for him a prematoro and shameful gnure? 
JWhere is that young musician, whoso pure, tenderi and 
loftjr strains sound swoetljr and sadljr in the earS| as the 
Tsrj hjmn and musio of the Might-Have-Bconi — where 
is he now, and what was the seductive power which 
made a plaything of him and then flung him away? 
Here and there some man of stronger mould is pointed 
out as one who was at the first conquered, and then 
deeeifed and trifled with, hut who ordered his stout heart 
to bear, and rose superior to the hour, and liTod to 
ret rie ve his nature and make himself a name of respect ; 
hot the others, of mote sensitive and perhaps flner organ- 
iiatione, are only the more to be pitied because they were 
so terribly in earnest. Seldom, even in the literary his- 
tory of modem France, has there been a more strange 
and shocking episode than the puUication by George 
Sand of the little book called **Elle et Lui,** and the 
r^oinder to it by Fkul de Musset, called «« Lui et EUe." 
I can hardly be accused of straying into the regions of 
private scandal when I speak of two books which had a 
wide dreulation, are still being read, and may be had, I 
presume, in any New York book-store where French lit- 
erature is sold. The former of the two books, ** She 
and He,** was a story, or something which purported to 
be a story, by George Sand, telling of two ill-assorted 
beings whom fate had thrown together for awhile, and 
of whom the woman was all tenderness, love, patience, 
the man all egotism, selfishness, sensuousness, and eccen- 
tricity. The point of the whole business was to show 
how sublimely the woman sufibred, and how want<mly 
the man flung happinees away. Had it been merely a 
piece of fletioo, it must have been regarded by any 


bwlth/ aditd M ft morbid,' nnriwktoine, diMgiWMtbl* 
prodactioii, — « lioof thehigliMt Brt l m i e Idnd agunst 
tniB ut, whkb mnat tlwaji, ovon in iu pKtbos and Its 
tnmdTi lewn ob tbi mind oxftltwl ud dolishtfiil impi in i 
riou. Bat vnrj ckw in Fuii at onoo bailed tbe ifany 
u ft du{)tar of uitobiognipbjr, m Um ulthoi'* Tindication 
of DOS «piaod» in bar own caner, — a Tindication at the 
•ccpeua ti a man who had gone down, niined and lost, 
to an taAj grave. Tberafiora tha brothor of the dead 
man flung into literatoia a HtUe book caOad " Ha and 
Sba," in which a ttor^, whatantially the moo in ite out- 
lines, i« M UM as oxftodjr to ravorao tha conditions nndar 
whidi tha reidict of pnblio opinion was son^t. Ytrf 
carious indeed was tho manner in which tha same anb- 
stance of facts was mode to [vesent the two principal 
figures with complexions and characters so strangalj 
ollATBd. In the woman's book tho woman was made the 
patient, loring, safforing rictim ; in the man's replj this 
same wonuo was depicted as the most atterlj ealfish and 
depraved creature the human imagination could conceive. 
Even if one had no other means whatever of forming an 
estimate of the character of George Sand, it would be 
hardly possible to accept as ber likeness the hideous pio 
tare itched by Faul de MusseL No woman, X am glad 
to boliovo, ever ozistod in real Ufo so ntUrly selfish, baao, 
and wicked as bis bitter pen has drawn. I mtist say that 
the thing is very cleverly done. Tho picture is at least 
consistent with itself. Ab a churactor in romance it might 
be pronounced ori^nal, bold, briUiont, and, in an artistio 
sense, quite natural. Thore is something thraou^y 
French hi the easy and delicata force of the final loach 
with whidi da Mniset dismisses his hideous suljeota 
Having sketched this womao in tints that snnm to flami 


the €jet of the reader,— haTing described with 
^fooderfbl feeliam and power her affectation, her deceit, 
Imt xeckleai Caprices, her base aad cmel coquetries, 

• Imt denmring wantopnesa, her sool-deatroTiiig arts, her 
vmitteraUe seMshness and egotism, — having, to use a 
wolgar phrase, **tumed her inside out,** and told her 
flioij badnfaids, — the author cahnljr explains thai the 
kero of the nanratiTe in his djing hour called his brother 
to his bedside, and eigoined him, if occasion should erer 
arise, if the partner of hb sin should erer calumniate 
Um in his grave, to vindicate his memory, and avenge 
the lieasoo practised upon him. ** Of course,** adds the 
Barrator, ^ the brother made the promise, ^ and I have 
iriaee heard that he has kept his word.** I can hardlj 
kope to convex to the reader any adequate idea of the 
•ffsct produced on the mind bj these few simple words 
of co mp r ess ed, whiqmed hatred and triumph, closing a 
philippie, or a revelation, or a libel of such extraordinaiy 
Uttemess and ferodtf. The whole episode is, I believe 
aad eamestlj hqpe, without precedent or imitation in 
Ulerarj oo ntro v ersy. Never, that I know of, has a living 
woman been puUidjr exhibited to the world in a por* 
traitore so hideous as that which Paul de Musset drew 
ofGeorgeSand. Never, that I know of, has any woman 
gone so near to deserving and justifying such a measure 
of rstaliation. 

Forif itbe assumed,— and I suppose it never has been 
dilated,— that hi writing ^^EUeetLui** George Sand 
msam to describe herself and Alfred de Musset, it is hard 
to conceive of any sin against taste and feeling, — against 

,art and morals,— more flagrant than such a publication. 
The praetiee, to which French writers are so much ad* 
aielidy of making **oopj* of the private lives, charae* 



tan, ud raUtioodupa of UtsmnlTM aai thdr friuid*, 

Mtiini to ma iu aU cum ntterlj dataatabls. Lamrtina'a 
du of this kind wim grisTona and glaring ; bat wero 
tbar red u acftriet, thaj would aeem whiter than snow 
wbeo oompar«d with tho lurid monatroait^ of Georgo 
Sand's Bsaanlt on th« latmorj of tho dead post who wma 
ooea bar brorito. ^M wbolfl a&ir, indeed, ia ao tuUika 
aaything which could occur in America or in England, 
that we can haidljr find anj canooa bf which to trj it, or 
any Btandard of puniahmeot hj which to ragalate ita coo- 
aure. X allnde to it now becanM it is the onl/ anbataa- 
tial aridence I know of which does fsirlj aeem to jostify 
the wont of the accusations bronght agunst George Sand ; 
and I do sot think it right, when writicg for grown man 
and women, who are supposed to hoTo sense and judg- 
ment, to afibct not to know that such accosations ora 
made, or to pretend to think that it would be proper not 
to allude to them. Thof bavo been put forward, replied 
to, nrgsd ogun, made tho tbamo of oil manner of contn^ 
versj' in scores of French and in some English publica- 
tions. Pn,y let it be distinctly understood that I am not 
entering into an; criticism of the morality of anj part of 
George Sand's prirate life. With that wa hara nothing 
here to do. I am now dealiag with the question, foirlj 
belon^og to publio controTers7, whether the great artist 
did not deliberate]/ deal with human hearts as tho palnt«r 
of old is said to have dona with a purchased slave, — !». 
flicting tortura in order the better to learn how to depict 
the struggles and oontortiona of mortal ogonj. In oit- 
swer to such a question X con onljr point to " Z<neroua 
Horiani " and to ** Elle at Lui," and saj that unless tho 
universal opinion of qualified critics be wrong, tbeae books, 
•ad others too, owa their piqoascj aod their dnoutie 



fytm to tho ■Datomitation of dead paasions and discarded 

lovers. Wo have all laaghed over the pedantio aorgeon in 

Uoliire^a **Malade Imaginaire/* who invites his fianeUf 

aa '• delightful treat, to see him dissect the body of a 

' ^vranaiu I am afraid that George Sand did sometimes 

invite an admiring pnblio to an exhibition yet more 

(^lastly and revolting,^ the dissection of tho heart of m 

dead lover. 

But, in truth, we shall never judge Greorge Sand and 

hn writings at all, if we insist on criticising them from 

any point of view set up by tho proprieties or even tho 

moralities of Old England or New England. When the 

passionate young woman, ^ in whose veins ran the wild 

blood of Uarshal Saxe,^ found herself surrendered by 

legally and prescription to a marriage bond against which 

bar soul revolted, society seemed for her to have resolved 

itself into its original elements. Its conventionalities and 

traditions contained nothing which she held herself bound 

to reject. The world was not her friend, nor the world's 

law. By one great decisive step she sundered herself 

Ibrever from tho bonds of what we call ** society •'^ She 

liad shaken tho dust of convention from her feet ; the 

world was all before her where to choose. No area- 

tore on earth is so absolutely free as tho Frenchwoman 

who has broken with society. There, then, stood this 

daring young woman, on the threshold of a new, freshy 

and illimitable world; a young woman gifUd with 

genius such as our later years have rarely seen, and 

blessed or cursed with a nature so strangely uniting the 

BMSt charaeteristio qualities of man and woman, as to be 

in itself quite unparalleled and unique. Just think of 

it, — try to think of iti Society and the world had no 

hmgtt any laws whidi'she recognised. Nothing was 


MCTsd i Dodungiru Nttled. She hid to «TolTe firom ber 
ownbeut «ndbnuibor ownbwof liA. 'Whstwonder 
if all* made soxh ud mistdcu? "Sajt ii it not nUher • 
thsnw for wonder and odmirfttioa tluU ibe did Mnaohow 
coma rigbt at laat? X know of no ono who aeema to me 
to ban boen open at once to tbe tomptationa of woman'a 
Batora and sian's natoro, except thia Georse Sand. Her 
aoal, — her brainy— bnetjlema; bo deacribod, from ona 
pmot of view, as axnberantljr and aplendidlj femiDino ; 
jet no other woman bai evor ihown tbe same power of 
^ ondentandingt and entering into (ho satnre of a man. If 
Balzao ii the onljr man who baa eror tboroogbl; nutsterad 
the mysteriei of a woman's' heart, George Sand is tbo 
only womaot 80 far 0* I know, who haa oror shown that 
she could feel as a man can fecL I haro road itraj pa»> 
sages in her novels which I would confideoUf submit to 
the criticism of anj iotoUigent men nnocquaintcd with 
the text, convincod that thej would declare (hat only « 
man conld have thus analyzed tbe cmo(ions of manhood. 
I hare ia m,j mind, just now espociallf, a poasago in tho 
novel " Picciniao " which, were the authorship unknown, 
would, I am satisfied, secure the decision of a jury of lit- 
erary experts (hat (he author must be a man. Xow thia 
gid of entire appreciation of tbe feelings of a difibront 
sex or race is, I take it, ono of (he rarest and highest 
dramatic qoalities. Especially is it difficult for a woman, 
as oar social life goes, to enter into the feelings of a man. 
While men and women alike admit tbe accuracy of oop> 
tain pictores of women drawn by such artists as Cer> 
Taa(es,. Moliire, Balzac, and Thackeray, there are fisw 
women,— indeed, perhaps there are no women but one, — 
by whom a man has been so painted as to challenge and 
compel the reoognitkm and ackoowlMlgnMnt of loen. Iq 

tS • esOSOS SAND. 

** Tba Oila^," acnne aonlha Bgo, I wrote of s grsit 
Eu^iihwoauD, tba antborcM of *' Bomok," aud I •!• 
priwi mj ooDTietion tlud on th« vbola alM U entilled to 
hi^^er nnk, u > Borslut, than ervn tlio anlhonu of 
**Coiwm1o.'' .Muj, Tsrj inaar men and women, fiw 
wboM Jodgmeot I lum the hlj^hert napoct, diflarod 
fioiB ma in this opinioo. I atill hold it, nevartbelcM ; 
bat I fiaalj admit thai Goorgs Eliot has nothing like the 
dramatie intight whieh eoablee George Saad to enter into 
Aa fealinga and ezperiencea of a man. I go n far as to 
mj ihati haring some knowledge of the literalnre of 
flrtloo in moat eonntries, I am not aware of tho ozistenoa 
of aoj woman bat this one, who oonld draw a real, liviog, 
Itrag^^nig, passion^oitared man. All other noTeliata c^ 
George Sand's sex, — eren indnding Chariotto Bronte, ^ 
draw odIj what I maj call " women's men.* If ever tba 
two natareo Mold be naltad in on* foTm,^if ever a 
ikof^ human being eoald have the aonl of man and ibo 
•ool of woman at once, — George Sand might be de- 
acribed as that phTsical and psTchological phenomenon. 
Now the point to which I wish to direct attention, is tbo 
peCBliariljr of tba temptation to which a nature inchasthia 
was neOMoarilj expoeed at everj turn when, free of all r»* 
strmint and a rebel against all oonrentionalitj, it confronted 
the world and the worid'a law, and stood np, itself alone, 
against tba do min alioa of easlom and the majesty of tra* 
ffition. I claim, then, that when we have taken all these 
oonsidsntioaa into aeooaat, wa are botmd to admit that 
Anrora Dodavant dsaa i ies the generous recognition of 
Oaworid fbr the «sa wbkb she made of ber sideadid 
^fia. H« inftwiwa oa Fkwteh liiantnra has bean, on 
wgtbwtBf powar. Tba 



gtfd of any muuier of principle, the <Wietmg pernde of 
jjltH^**^ in any hi j^ier poipoee or nobler vestrminl, whidi 
ere the aheme end cone of modem VnoA fletion, find 
BO eenction in the pegee of George Send. I remember 
BO peasege in her woito which givee the elig^test enooor- 
egemeni to the " nothing new, end nothing troe, end it 
don't aignify" code of ethics which hee been so mnch in 
frahion of kte yeere. I find notlung in Gewge Send 
w hich doea not do homege to the eriatence of a principle 
end e lew in ererfthing. Thia daring women, who broke 
with aocietjr ao eeiiy end ao conapieooiialy, hea elwaje in* 
aiated, throii|^ CTCiy iDnstretion, character, end ceiee* 
trophe in her hooka, that the one onlj reeli^, the one onlj 
thing that can endure, ia the rule of right and of virtae. 
Nor has she erer, that I can recollect, fallen into the en« 
feebling and sentimental theory so commonlj expressed in 
the works of Victor Hugo, that the yagae abstraction 
sode^ is always to bear the blame of the fanlts commit- 
ted by the indiyidoal man or woman. Of all persons in 
the world, Aurora Daderant might be supposed most likelj 
to adopt this easy and complacent theory as her guiding 
principle. She had every excuse, eyery reason for en* 
deayoring to preach up the doctrine that our errors are 
sodet/s and our yirtues our own. But I am not aware 
that she oyer taught any lesson s^ye the lesson that men 
and women must endeayor to be heroes and heroines for 
themselyes, heroes and heroines though all the world else 
were crayen, and weak, and selfish, and unprincipled. 
£yen that wretched and lamentable '* Elle et Liii'* afiair, 
utterly inexcusable as it is when we read between the linee 
its secret history, has, at least, the merit of being an earn- 
est and powerful protest against the egotistical and debae* 
lug indulgence of moral weaknessee end eecentrieitiee 


•mtiA DMui and Tolgsr mindt tn ^ to nprd m tha 
frivOqs of ganiw. " Stand upon jonr own gnnmd ; be 
yoar own mlor ; look to jrotmalf, not to joor atan, for 
TQor faQora or aiiGceu ; alwsja maka four ataadard a 
loftj ideal, and trj penistentlj to reach it, thongb all the 
temptationa of -earth, and all tha power of darkneia ttriia 
againat]ron"^thia, and nothing elie, if I hare read her 
booka ri|^j, ia tha moral tanght bjr George Sand. She 
10*7 1** voBg in her principle aometimei, but, at leaat, 
■be alwajs baa a principle. She hM a profound andgen- 
arooa faith in the' poMibilitiaa of homan nntore ; in tha 
flapaeitjr of man's heart for poritj, aelf-aacrifioo, and aelf- 
ndemption. Indeed, ao &r ia ahe from holding ooonael 
with wiUnl weakneaa or tin, that I think aha aometimea 
ftSa into tha noUe error of painting her heroea as too 
l^otiooa in their triumph orer tamptation, in their sabjn* 
ptiooofarefjpMuoaandinteiQsttotha dictotea of dotf 
and of honor. Take, for inatanee, that extraordinarjr 
book which hat joat been given to tho American publio 
b Ujm Virginia Yaugfaan'a excellent tranalation, " Uai^ 
pnL" If I mdentand that magnificent romance at all, 
tta p ur port is to prore that no human nature is ever 
plaagad into (amptation bejond ita own strength to renst, 
proridad that it raallf wills resistance ; that no chnractar 
ia {rratrieraUa, no error inezi»able, where there is ainoera 
iMolra to axpiata, and longing desire to retriere. Taka, 
again, that ezqniaite little stoij, " La Demi^ Aldini " ; 
I do not know where one ooold flod a finer iUnatration of 
tha entire saeriflee of man's nataral impulae, passion, ia- 
tarest, to what nig^ almost be called an abrtract idea of 
honor and prindpla. I ban navar read this litUe 11017 
witboot wondsring how maj maa one arar has known 
who, pliMd in the nma wHmOm m that tff Nallo, tha 


lim, wodd lum dooe the aune Uung ; and jet to rimplf 
end netiireUj ere the dierecten wroa|^ out, and the in- 
cidents deecribed, Ihet the idea of ponqwus, dramatieedl^ 
MMTJficft nerer enters the mind of the reader, and it seems 
to him that NeOo oooUL not do otherwise than as he is 
dnng. I qpeak of these two stories partioilarijr, becaose 
in both of them there is a good deal of the world and the 
flesh ; that is, both are stories of strong human pasBion 
and temptation, llanj of George Sand's novels, the 
shorter ones e^MsdaUj, are as absohitelj pore in moral 
tone, as entirelj firee firom even a taint or soggestion of 
imparl^, as the j are perfect in s^le. Now, if we cannot 
helpknowingthatmnchof this great woman's lift was fiur 
from being irreproachable, are we not boond to give her 
an the fuller credit, becaose her genius, at least, kept so 
far the whiteness of its soul? Bo volutions are not to be 
made with rose-water ; you cannot have omelettes without 
breaking of eggs. I am afraid that great social revolu- 
tionists are not often creatures of the most pure and per- 
fect nature. It is not to patient Griselda jou must look 
for anj protest against even the uttermost tjrannj of so- 
cial conventions. One thing I think maj, at least, be 
admitted as part of George Sand's vindication, — that the 
marriage system in France is the most debased and debas- 
ing institution existing in civilised society, now that the 
buying and selling of slaves has ceased to be a tolerated 
system. I hold that the most ardent advocates of the 
irrevocable endurance of the marriage bond are bound, by 
their Very principles, to admit that, in protesting against 
the so-called marriage system of France, Greorgo Sand 
stood on the side of purity and right. Assuredly, she 
often went into extravagances in the other direction. It 
■eems to be the &te of all French reformers to rush sod- 


iasif to grtremes ; and we must remember that George ^ 
Sand was not a Bristol Qnakexess, or a Boston transcend- 
eotalisti Imt a passionate frenchwoman, the descendant 
of one of the maddest Totaries of lore and war who eirer 
•tormed across the stage of European history. 

Begarding George Sand, then, as an influence in litera- 
tare, and on societji I daim for her at least four great 
and special merits : First, she insisted on calling publio 
attention to the true principle of marriage ; thatistosaj, 
she put the question as it had not been put before. Of 
eoorse, the fundamental principle she woidd hare enforced 
is always being urged more or less feebly, more or less 
sincerely; but she made it her own question, and illumin* 
ated it hj the fendd, fierce rays of her genius and her ' 
passion. Secondly, her works are an exposition of the 
tremendous reali^ of the feelings whidi people who call 
themsdves practical are apt to regard with indifbrence or 
eontempt as mere sentiments. In the long run, the pas* 
skms dedde the life-question one way or the other, lliey 
are the tide which, as you know or do not know how to 
use it, will either turn your mlQ and float your boat, or 
drown your flelds and sweep away your dwellings. life 
and society receire no impulse and no direction from the 
influences out of whidi the noreb of Dickons, or eren of 
Thaduray, are made up. These are but pleasant or ten- 
der tojring with the playthings and puppets of existence. 
George Sand constrains us to look at the realities through 
the medium of her flction. Thirdty, she insists that man 
can and shall make his own career ; not whine to the 
stars, and rail out against the powers above, when he has 
weakly or wantonly marred his own .destiny. Fourth^, 
^and this ou^t not to be considered her least senrice to 
the Uteratore of her covntry,— she has tried to teach 




pecq^ to lode fti Kaliire with theb own «JM, and to mrite 
tho tnie lore of bor to flow into their hearts. The great 
eenrioe whidi Boakin, with all his eceentricities and oz« 
tramgonoes, has rendered to.EnglislHipeaking peofdes bjr 
lesrhing them to nse their own ejes when thej look at 
doods, and waters, and grasses, and hiDs, Gewge Sand 
has rendered to IVanoe« 

I hold that these are Tirtoes and sendees which 
oo^t to outweigh eren Teiy grare personal and 
artistic errors* We often hear that this or that great 
poel or romanctst has painted men as thej are ; this 
other as thqr ooght to be* I think George Sand paints 
men as thejr are, and also not merelj as thej ooght to be, 
bat as thej can be* The sum of the lesson taught bj 
her books is one of confidence in man's possibilities, and 
hope in his steadj progress. At the same time she is 
entirelj practical in her faith and her aspirations* She 
ncTer expects that the trees are to grow np into the 
heayens, that men and women are to be other than men 
and women. She does not want them to be other ; she 
finds the springs and sources of their social regeneration 
in the £Eict that thej are just what thej are, to bogin 
with. I am afraid some of the ladies who seem to base 
their scheme of woman's emancipation and equalit j on the 
assumption that, bj some deyelopment of time or 
process of schooling, a condition of things is to bo 
brought about where difference of sex is no longer to bo 
a disturbing power, will find small comfort or encourage- 
ment in the writings of George Sand* She deals in 
realities altogether ; the realities of life, eyon when thej 
are such as to shaUow minds maj seem mere sentiments 
and ecstacies ; the realities of sodetj, of suffering, of 
passion, of inanimate nature* There is in her nothing 


mmeaBJngf notUiig untrue ; there if in her mnch error, 
doohUestt but no sham. 

I beliere George Sand ie growing into a quiet and 
beastiftil old age. After a life of storm and stress, a life 
whidi, metaphoricallj at least, was *' worn bj war and 
passion,^* her closing jears seem likelj to be gilded with 
the calm gloiy of an autumnal sunset* One is glad to 
think of her thus happj and peaceful, accepting so 
tranquiUj the reality of old age, still laboring with her 
nwearied pen, still delighting in books, and landscapes, 
and friends, and work* The world can well afford to 
finget as soon as possible her literary and other errors. 
Of the Tast mass of romances, stories, pUys, sketches, 
criticisms, pamphlets, political articles, CTen, it is said, 
ministerial manifestoes of republican daj's, which she 
poured out, only % few comparatiTely will perhaps be 
always treasured by posterity ; but these will be enou^ 
to secure her a classic place. And she wiU not be 
remembered by her writings alone. Hers is probably 
the most powerflil individuality displayed by any mod- 
cm Frenchwoman. The influence of Madame Boland 
was but a glittering unreality, that of Madame de 
Sta^l only a* boudoir and coterie success, when com* 
pared with the power eomroised o?er literature, human 
feeling, and social law, by the eoergy, the courage, the 
genius, eren the Tory etvoiu and titrafagaaees of George 


L MAUPRAT. Trantlatcd bgr YuoiinA Yauobav. 

IL ANTONIA. Translated hj ViioiirzA VAUOOAir. 

m. MONSIEUR SYLYESTBE. Tranabtod . Iiff Fkavois 
GaoBOB Shaw. 

lY. L'HOMME DE NEIGE. (The Man of Snow.) Tnuiakted 
by ViEoixiA Vauoiiasi. 

(oniKUS I2f rasFABATiox.) 

AMamiardlAhvry£k!UioH,uni/orml3fb(mmLmmiailH^ EmA 

volumt told separaUljf, Prie€ $L60. 


•«Aii admlnbto trmntUtlon. Ai to ^Maapntl,* with vhldi aevit Itobflrlf 
BfoOicn Intioduct Um first of French noTelistt to tbo A M t rlco n pnbtte, if t fc ot n 
nam ftoj doubts m to tieorgo 8antl*i power, It wonid Ibr owr Ml tbtm al wmat, 
. . . Tbo object of the ftory U to ihow bow, bv ber (HdmH'ft) boMo natars, 1m 
(lUapnt) is labsequ^ntlj traDsformed from a brut* to a mam ; bto momoI ps** 
■loQ to a pure and bohr lore.** — Harper''t MomMy, 

** Tbe excellcDce or Ororge Sand, m wo UDderetand It, Hei fai ber coamnbcs- 
■loa of the piimlUvo elemcobi of mankind. She hu eeoqaered ber vaj into th« 
buman beart, and whether It ie at peace or at war, la tbe fano to Imt ; for abo is 
mUtreM of all Its moods. No wouiao before oTer painted tbe pasrione and tha 
emotkme with such force and fldelicy, and with such consummate art. Whatever 
tise she may be, she in always an artUt. . . . I/>Te Is the key-note of * Uauprat,* 
— k>Te, and what It can acconipliiib In taming an otherwUo untamable splrii. 
Tbe hero, Bernard Mauprat, grows up with hb uncles, who are practically ban- 
dits, as was not uncommon with men of their clsM, In tbe proTlncee, before tbn 
breaking out of the French ReTolution. He is a young parage, of whom tbe boat 
that can be said is, that he is only lexs. wicked than hU relatires, becanee be lias 
somewhere within him a sense of genrronity and honor, to which they are eoiiro 
strangers. To sting this scnuo into actlTity, to detect the makings of a man In tbAs 
brute, to maJte this brute into a man. Is the difficult problem, which Is worked 
out by lore, — the lore of Bernard for his cousin Kdm^e, and hers for blm, — tbo 
lore of two strong, pawiionate, noble natures, locked In a llfe-and-death straggU, 
In wbieb tbe man is finally overcome by the unconquerable strength of woman* 
hood. Only a great writer could hare described such a struggle, and only a greal 
artist eould bsTS kept It within allowable limits. This George 9and has done, wa 
think ; for her portridt of BemarU Is Timorous without being coarse, and ber aitn* 
atloos are strong without beinic dangerous. Such, at least, is the Imp r ess i on wa 
bare recelred from reoding ' Mauprat,' which, besides being an admirable etodj 
of character. Is also a fine picture of French prorlnclal life and manners.*^ — Fmi» 
nam^i Moniklf. 

"Roberts Brothers propose to publish a series of transUtloos of Georga 
Band's better noreb. We can hardly say that all are worth appearing In English ; 
but It is certain that tbe ' better ' list will comprise a good many which are worth 
traaslating, and among these b ' Mauprat,' — though by no means tbe best of 
them. Written to show the possibility of constancy in man, a lore Inspired ba* 
fore and continuing through marriage, It b itself a contradiction to a good manj 
of the popular notions respecting the author,— who b generally supposed to ba 
as Indifferent to the sanctities of the marriage relation as was her celebrated an* 
ecstor, Augustus of Saxony. . . . The translation b admirable. It b seidoin tlial 
ooe raids such good Bnglish In a work transbted from any language. Tbe new 
Miles b Inaugurated In the best possible way, under tbe bands of uba Taucban. 
and we trust that she may bare a great deal to do with Its oontinoanoa. It 
li not erecy one who ean rsad Frsnch who can write Kn^isb so wsU.** ^OM 

Sold eoerywhen. Mailed, po$tpatd, on receipi o/tki advertued priet, 


* Earthly ParadiM," more cspedaDj wltli relennn 
to'Tbe LoToi of Gadnu." 

to tlteH aid d (acMloa^ ad nek pkMN It ■ ■MWflMK-'^^ 

^ViMn d( MtlmJMt^AihtrHur: 

■•T*« Lcf«* (f Ca^m' wBl torn , 

Ifawfa'it^ • - paw, nd of Ui (M af dtpiajaf lad 

ioiat lad Mtyihy 


••n* imlpBMta IW baek k, Iwwrtr. ■ Th. L»« af Gadna.* 
Ma iBan Ikal v* cm tnan far ■ laach liixn irtkl* thu tkia anald )■ 
I ■ ' I H f*M« >1 ■• k dmr ■■■ Wi (haU DM. Ibntn. tna al- 
«BM la dn Uh bIm. It !• ■ u?. f? ., .,.i„,,„,,, 

k. inii's. h»'i«t''i>orhi»('^i'"'AiriC 

... — .. ri Baa-BaMliara okitfc viD laar ra- 
id Ht Mr. U«t4. Haax iacapabla U i-ttibiat a 
. Mh"! a.-M la haH faaixa l> kit uaai. (od 
bmkanaf (:«<nia*a(nr>pvtar*lir. At far 

<"th«Jliii7"|"'HM« j l I II Wt It ufT> >"r Ih^UihI uX iniinf [/ iKa 
■M^atow hanaf iba all aha k unh. W* hara aal<r traifUhy fa> 

"■n* IwImJc la«aad af 'ThaLvfn af (!■*»■ la, M Alak. dta 
(mm paaiB af tint ua^aa Mriaa aad aafkapa ika ■■«•( af til that Mr. 
Uviit kaa yal -ritMa. Il It Baal TMdhp aiaa q i aaa la aaaUiK la 
Htaaty. aad ta M Wi Mtara aT diancMr. bJ It kt Iwk iMit litlfaw 
a hkhar drwaric pnv ihaa b dMtjW >■ a^r Mkn pna aT ika t»- 
ttarWa Mhak aa tmacB •« lUa ar an aUiiraf *a iMriiB. Ua^ 
<r !■ Boaa Ur. Mania lata mm* tnm hritf nad ia liB^ii mmmm, 
Md anoint •fpta*r*at«ad Utah U" 

■'TWZMUrPaadka' dieald ha fcaad la 

bi i^ aad lanad. aad •*•■ laAnad ta. Walwa MWifbal M^M 
ArdMaaaaWa paaia^ aad aa Ha aaair waarj la vdariaa: *a M» 
Maaadia iladiiH Ilia tm^ taMta wfchh aaa SSAte aTs* 
«taata*lp<iwafifeMmti't'Ia«Mr» ill,'" 

M^aa^^ iHMr rMdIw- b^Md rpaMt a pMOT tM *!• 



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I. MAUPRAT. Trafulated by VixcmiA Vaucmak. 
a. ANTON I A Translated by ViscmiA Vauchah. 
y MONSIEUR SYLVESTRE. TnwsUted by Fkamos Gbokgb 
Shaw. Price of each, $ 1.5a 

The Character of Goorse Saod. By Justin M'Carthy. ''Take, for 
Instance, that extraordinary book which hu iust been given to the Ameri- 
can public in Miss Virginu Vaughan*s excellent translation, ' Mauprat.' 
If I andcfstand that magnificent romance at all, its^ puiport is to prove 
that no human nature is ever plunged into temptation beyond its own 
strength to resist, provided that it really wills resistance ; that no character 
is irretrievable, no error inexpiable, WMre there is sincere resolve to exi>i- 
ate and loaging desire to retrieve. .... I need hardly tell any intelli^nt 
person of to-day that whatever may be said of Geocge Sand's doctrines, 
she is no move open to the charge of indelicacy thui the authoress of 
'Romola.' I cannot myself remember any passage in George Sand's 
novels which can be called indelicate ; and indeed hier severest and moat 
hostile critics are fend of saying, not without a certain justice, thst one of 
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style, which thus commends to pare and innocent miiida certain doctrines 
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