l&RARY , * ' Y WHITE LIES. CHARLES READE HOUSEHOLD EDITION. BOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & Co. 1871. AUTHOR'S EDITION. UNIVERSITY PRESS : WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co., CAMBRIDGE. CHAPTER I. TOWARDS the close of the last century, the Baron de Beaure- paire lived in the chateau of that name in Brittany. His family was of prodigious antiquity. Seven suc- cessive barons had already flourished on this spot of France when a young- er son of the house accompanied his neighbor the Duke of Normandy in his descent on England, and was re- warded by a grant of land, on which he dug a moat and built a chateau, and called it Beaurepaire ; the worthy natives turned this into Borrcper without an instant's delay. Since that day more than twenty gentle- men of the same lineage had held in turn the original chateau and lands, and handed them down to their pres- ent lord. Thus rooted in hi.s native Brittany Henri Lionel Marie St. Quentin de Beaurepaire was as fortunate as any man can be pronounced before he dies. He had health, rank, a good income, a fair domain, a goodly house, a loving wife, and two lovely young daughters all veneration and affection. Two months every year he visited the Faubourg St. Germain and the Court. At both every gentleman and every lackey knew his name and his face ; his return to Brittany after this short absence was celebrated by a rus- tic file. Above all, Monsieur de Beaure- paire possessed that treasure of treas- ures, content. He hunted no heart- burns. Ambition did not tempt him. Why should he listen to long speech- es, and court the unworthy, and de- scend to intrigue, for so precarious and equivocal a prize as a place in the government, when he could be de Beaurepaire without trouble or loss of self-respect 1 Social ambition could get little hold of him. Let par- venus give halls half in doors half out, and light two thousand lamps, and waste their substance battling and manoeuvring for fashionable dis- tinction ; he had nothing to gain by such foolery, nothing to lose by mod- est living ; he was the twenty-ninth Baron of Beaurepaire. So wise, so proud, so little vain, so strong in health and wealth and honor, one would have said nothing less than an earthquake could shake this gentle- man and his house. Yet both were shaken, though rooted by centuries to the soil. But it was by no vulgar earth- quake. For years France had bowed in si- lence beneath two galling burdens : a selfish and corrupt monarchy, and a multitudinous, privileged, lazy, and oppressive aristocracy, by whom the peasant, though in France he is the principal proprietor of the soil, was handled like a Russian serf. Now when a high-spirited nation has been long silent under oppression tremble oppressors ! The shallow misunderstand nations as they do men. They fear where no fear is, and play cribbage over a volcano. Such are they who expect a revolt in England whenever England grumbles WHITE LIES. half a note higher than usual. They do not see that she is venting her ill- humor instead of bottling it, and get- ting her grievance redressed gradu- ally and safely. Such is the old lady who pinches us when the engine lets off its steam with a mighty pother. Then it is she fears an explosion. Such are they who read the frothy bombast of Italian Republicans, and fancy that nation of song, supersti- tion, and slavery is going to be free, is worthy to be free, has the heart or the brains or the soul to be free. Such were the British placemen, and the pig-headed King, who read the calm, business-like, respectful, yet dignified and determined address of the American colonists, and ar- gued thus : " What, they don't bluster ; these then are men we can bully." * Such were the French placemen, who did not see how tremendous the danger to that corrupt government and lawless aristocracy, when an ar- dent people raised their heads, after centuries of brooding, to avenge cen- turies of wrong. We all know this wonderful pas- sage of history. How the feeble king was neither woman, nor man could neither concede with grace nor resist with cannon. How his head fell at a moment when it was monstrous to pretend the liberties of the nation ran any risk from the poor old cipher. How the dregs of the nation came uppermost and passed for " the people." How law, religion, com- mon sense, and humanity hid their faces, the scaffold streamed with in- rfofcnt blood, and terror reigned. France was preyed on by unclean beasts, half ass, half tiger. They made her a bankrupt, and they were * Compare the manifestoes of Italian Re- publicans with the proclamations and ad- dresses of the American colonists, i. e. compare the words of the men of worda with t!ic w.n-ds of the men of deeds, the men who fail with the men who succeed ; it is a lesson in human nature. They differ as a bladder from a bludgeon, or harlequin's sword from Noll Cromwell's. busy cutting her throat, as well as rifling her pockets, when Heaven sent her a Man. He drove the unclean beasts off her suffering body, and took her in his hand, and set her on high among the nations. But ere the Hero came, among whose many glories let this be written, that he was a fighting man, yet ended civil slaughter, what wonder that many an honest man and good Frenchman despaired of France. Among these was M. de Beaurepaire. These Republicans murderers of kings, murderers of women, and perse- cutors of children were, in his eyes, the most horrible monsters Humanity ever groaned under. He put on black for the King, and received no visits. He brooded in the chateau, and wrote and received let- ters ; and these letters all came and went by private hands. He felled timber. He raised large sums of money upon his estate. He then watched his opportunity, and on pre- tence of a journey disappeared from the chateau. Three months after, a cavalier, dusty and pale, rode into the court- yard of Beaurepaire, and asked to see the baroness ; lie hung his head, and held out a letter. It contained a tVw sad words from M. deLaroehejaquelin. The baron had just fallen in La Vendee, fighting, like his ancestors, on the side of the Crown. From that hour till her death the baroness wore black. The mourner would have been arrested, and perhaps beheaded, but for a friend, the last in the world on whom the family reckoned for any solid aid. Doctor St. Aubin had lived in the chateau twenty years. He was a man of science, and did not care a button for money ; so he had retired from the practice of medicine, and pursued his researches with ease under the baron's roof. They all loved him, and laughed at his occa- sional reveries, in the days of pros- perity ', and now, in one great crisis, WHITE LIES. the protfyf became the protector, to their astonishment and his own. But it was an age of ups and down.s. This amiable theorist was one of the oldest verbal Republicans in Europe. This is the less to be wondered at that in theory a Republic is the per- fect form of government. It is merely in practice that it is impossible; it is only upon going off paper into reality, and trying actually to self-govern old nations, with limited territory and time to heat themselves white hot with the fire of politics and the bellows of bombast, that the thing resolves itself into moonshine and bloodshed, each in indefinite proportions. Doctor St. Aubin had for years talked and written speculative Re- publicanism. So, not knowing the man, they assumed him to be a Re- publican. They applied to him to know whether the baroness shared her husband's opinions, and he boldly assured them she did not; he added, " She is a pupil of mine." On this audacious statement they contented themselves with laying a heavy fine on the lands of Beaurcpaire. Assignats were abundant at this time, but good mercantile paper a notorious coward had made itself wings and fled, and specie was creep- ing into strong-boxes, like a startled rabbit into its hole. The fine was paid, but Beaurepaire had to be heavily mortgaged, and the loan bore a high rate of interest. This was no sooner arranged than it transpired that the baron just before his death had contracted large debts, for which his estate was answerable. The baroness sold her carriage and horses, and both she and her daugh- ters prepared to deny themselves all but the bare necessaries of life, and pay offtheirdebts if possible. On this their dependants fell away from them ; their fair - weather friends came no longer near them ; and many a flush of indignation crossed their brows, and many an aching pang their hearts, as adversity revealed to them the baseness and inconstancy of common people high or low. When the other servants had retired with their wages, one Jacintha remained behind, and begged permission to speak to the bar- oness. " What would you with me, my child ? " asked that high-bred lady, with an accent in which a shade of surprise mingled with great polite- ness. " Forgive me, madame the baron- ess," began Jacintha, with a formal courtesy ; " but how can I leave you and Mademoiselle Josephine, and Mademoiselle Laure ? Reflect, ma- dame ; I was born at Beaurepaire ; my mother died in the chateau ; my fa- ther died in the village ; but he had meat every day from the baron^s own table, and fuel from the baron's wood, and died blessing the house of Beau- repaire Mademoiselle Laure, speak for me ! Ah, you weep ! it is then that yon see it is impossible I can go. Ah no ! madame, I will not go ; for- give me ; I cannot go. The others are gone because prosperity is here no longer. Let it be so ; I will stay till the sun shines again upon the chateau, and then you shall send me away if it seems good to you ; but not now my ladies ! O, not now ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! " The warm-hearted girl burst out sobbing ungracefully. " My child," said the baroness, " these sentiments touch me, and honor you. But retire if you please, while I consult my daughters." Jacintha cut her sobs dead short, and retreated with a most cold and formal reverence. The consultation consisted of the baroness opening her arms, and both her daughters embracing her at once. " My children ! there are then some who love you." " Xo ! you, mamma ! It is you we all love." Three women were now the only pillars, a man of science and a servant of all work the only outside props, the buttresses, of the great old house of Beaurepaire. WHITE LIES. As months rolled on, Laure Aglae Rose dc Beaurepaire recovered her natural gayety in spite of l>ereavement and poverty, so strong are youth and health and temperament. But her elder sister had a grief all her own. Captain Dujardin, a gallant 3'oung officer, well born, and his own master, had courted her with her par- ents' consent; and even when the baron began to look coldly on the soldier of the Republic, young Dujar- din, though too proud to encounter the baron's irony and looks of scorn, would not yield love to pique. He came no more to the chateau ; but he would wait hours and hours on the path to the little oratory in the park, on the bare chance of a passing word or even a kind look from Josephine. So much devotion gradually won a heart which in happier times she had been half encouraged to give him ; and when he left her on a military service of un- common danger, the woman's reserve melted, and, in answer to his prayers and tears, she owned for the first time that she loved him better than any- thing in the world, except duty and honor. They parted in deep sorrow, but full of hope. Woman-like she comforted him through her tears. " Be prudent for my sake, if not for your own. May God watch over yon ! Your danger is our only fear ; for we are a united family" My father will never force my "inclina- tions ; these unhappy dissensions will soon cease, and he will love you sigain. I do not say, ' Be constant.' I will not wrong cither myself or you by a doubt ; but promise me to come back in life, O Camille, Ca- mille ! " Then it was his turn to comfort and cur^ole her. He promised to come back alive, and with fresh hon- ors, and so more worthy the Demoi- selle de Beaurepaire. They pledged their faith to one another. Letters from the camp breathing a devotion little short of worship fed Josephine's attachment ; and more than one public mention of his name and services made her proud as well as fond of the fiery young soldier. The time was not yet come that she could open her whole heart to her parents. The baron was now too occupied with the state to trouble his head about love fancies. The baron- ess, like many parents, looked on her daughter as a girl, though she was twenty years old. She belonged, too, to the old school. A passionate love in a lady's heart before marriage was with her contrary to etiquette, and therefore improper; and, to her, the great word "improper" included the little word " impossible " in one of its many folds. Josephine loved her sister very tenderly ; but Laure was three years her junior, and she shrank with modest delicacy from making her a confidante of feelings the bare relation of which leaves the female hearer a child no longer. Thus Josephine hid her heart, and delicious first love nestled deep in her nature, and' thrilled in every secret vein and fibre. Alas ! the time came that this loving but proud spirit thanked Heaven she had never pro- claimed the depth of her attachment for Camille Dujardin. They had parted two years, and he had joined the army of the Pyrenees about one month, when suddenly all correspondence ceased on his pan. Restless anxiety rose into terror as this silence continued ; and starting and trembling at every sound, and edging to the window at every foot- step, Josephine expected hourly the tidings of her lover's death. Months rolled on in silence. Then a new torture came. Since he was not dead, he must be unfaith- ful. At this all the pride of her race was fired in her. The struggle between love and ire. was almost too much for nature. Violently gay and moody by turns, she alarmed both her mother and tha WHITE LIES. good Doctor St. Aubin. The latter was not, I think, quite without sus- picion of the truth ; however, he simply prescribed change of air and place. She must go to Frejus, a watering-place distant about five leagues. Mademoiselle de Beaure- paire yielded a languid assent. To her all places were alike. That same night, after all had re- tired to rest, came a low, gentle tap at her door ; the next moment Laure came into the room, and, without say- ing a word, put down her candle and glided up to Josephine, looked her in the face a moment, then wreathed her arms round her neck. Josephine pan ted -a little: sho saw something was coming ; the gestures and looks of sisters are volumes to them. Laure clung to her neck. " What is the matter, my child ? " " I am not a child ! there is your mistake. My sister, why is it you love me no longer ? " " I love you no longer ? " " No ! AVe do not hide our heart from her we love ; we do not try to hide it from her who loves us. We know the attempt would be in vain." Josephine panted heavily ; but she answered doggedly : " Our house is burdened with real griefs ; is it for me to intrude vain and unworthy sentiments upon our sacred and honorable sorrows ? O my sister, if you have really detected my folly, do not expose me ! but rather help me to conceal and to con- quer that for which your elder now blushes before you ! " And the proud beauty bowed her white forehead on the mantel-piece, and turned gently away from her sis- ter. " Josephine," said Laure, " I am young, but already I feel that all troubles are light compared with those of the heart. Besides, we share our misfortunes and our bereavement, and comfort one another. It is only you who are a miser, and grudge me my right, a share of all your joys and all yo\j griefs ; hut do you know that you a'je the only one in this cha- teau who docs not love me ? " " Ah, Laure, what words are these ? my love is older than yours." " No ! no ! " " Yes, my little fawn, your Jose- phine loved you the hour you were born, and has loved you ever since, without a moment's coldness." " Ah ! my sister ! my sister ! As if I did not know it. Then you will turn your face to me ? " " See ! " " And embrace me ? " " There ! " " And, now, bosom to bosom, anS heart to heart ; tell me all 1 " " I will to-morrow." " At least give me your tears ; you see / am not niggardly in that re- spect." " Tears, love, ah ! would I could ! " " By and by then ; meantime do not palpitate so. See, I unclasp my arms. You will find me a reasonable person, indulgent even ; compose yourself; or, rather, watch my pro- ceedings ; you are interested in them." " It appears to me that you propose to sleep here ! " " Does that vex you ? " " On the contrary." " There I am ! " cried Laure, alighting among the sheets like a snow-flake on water. " I await you, mademoiselle." Josephine found this lovely face wet, yet smiling saucily, upon her pil- low. She drew the fair owner softly to her tender bosom and aching heart, and watched the bright eyes close, and the coral lips part and show their pearls in childlike sleep. In the morning Laure, half awake, felt something sweep her cheek. She kept her eyes closed, and Josephine, believing her still asleep, fell to kiss- ing her, but only as the south wind kisses the violets, and embraced her tenderly but furtively like a feather curling round a lovely head, caressing yet scarce touching, and murmuring, 8 WHITE LIES. "Little angel ! " sighed gratitude and afivction over her ; but took great cure not to wake her with all this. The little angel, who was also a lit- t'e fox, lay still and feigned sleep, for she felt she was creeping into her sister's heart of hearts. From that day they were confidantes and friends, as well as sisters, and never had a thought or feeling unshared. Josephine soon found she had very few facts to reveal. Laure had watched her closely and keenly for months. It was her feel- ings, her confidence, the little love wanted; not her secret, that lav- bare already to the shrewd young minx, I beg her pardon, lynx. Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. A deep observer proclaimed this three hundred years ago, and every journal that is printed now-a-days furnishes the examples. From this silent, moody, gnawing, maddening sorrow, Laure saved her elder sister. She coaxed her to vent each feeling as it rose ; her grief, her doubt, her mortification, her indigna- tion, her pride, and the terrible love that at times overpowered all. Thus much was gained. These powerful antagonists were no longer cooped up in her bosom battling to- gether and tearing her. They returned from Frejus : Jose- phine with a delicate rose-tint instead of the pallor that had alarmed St. Au- bin. Her mood fluctuated no more. A gentle pensiveness settled upon her. She looked the goddess Patience. She was inconceivably lovely. Laure said to her one day, after a long gaze at her : " I fear I shall never hate that mad- man as I ought. Certainly when I think of his conduct, I could strike him in the face." Here she clenched her teeth, and made her hand into a sort of irregular little snowball. " But when. I look at you I cannot hate, I can but pity that imbecile -=- that " " O my sister," said Josephine, imploringly, " let us not degrade one we have honored with our esteem, for our own sakes, not his," added she, hastily, not looking Laure in the face. " Xo ! forgive my vivacity. I was going to tell you I feel more pity than anger for him. Does he mean to turn monk, and forswear the sex ? if not, what does he intend to do ? Where can he hope to find any one he can love after you ? Josephine, the more I see of our sex, the more I see that you are the most beautiful woman in France, and by consequence in Eu- rope." The smile this drew was a very faint one. " Were this so, surely I could have retained a single heart." " You have then forgotten your La Fontaine 1 " "Explain." " Does he not sing how a dunghill cock found a pearl necklace, and dis- dained it. And why ? Not that pearls are worth less than barley- corns ; but because he was a sordid bird, and your predecessors were wasted on him, my Josephine. So I pity that dragoon who might have revelled in the love of an angel, and has rejected it, and lost it forever. There, I have made her sigh." " Forgive me." " Forgive her ? for sighing ? I am, then, very tyrannical." One day Laure came into the room where the baroness, Doctor St. An- bin, and Josephine were sitting. She sat down unobserved. But Josephine, looking up a minute after, saw at a glance that something had happened. Laure, she saw, under a forced calmness, was in great emo- tion and anxiety. Their eyes met. Laure made her a scarce perceptible signal, and immediately after got up and left the room. Josephine waited a few seconds ; then she rose and went out, and found Laure in the passage, as she expected. WHITE LIES. 9 "My poor sister, have you cour- age ? " " lie is dead ! " gasped Josephine. " Xo ! lie lives. But he is dead to us and France. O Josephine, have you courage 1 " " I have," faltered Josephine, quiv- er! n ic from head to foot. " You know Dard, who works about here for love of Jacintha 1 For months past I have set him to speak to every soldier who passes through the village." " Ah ! you never told me." " Had you known my plan, you would have been forever on the qui vive ; and your tranquillity was dear to me. It was the first step to hap- piness. Hundreds of soldiers have passed, and none of them knew him even by name. To-day, Josephine, two have come that know all ! " " All ! Laure, Laure ! " " He is disloyal to his country. What, wonder he is a traitor to you ! " " It is false ! " " The men are here. Come, will you speak to them ? " " I cannot. But I will come ; you speak : I shall hear." They found in the kitchen two dis- mounted dragoons before whom Jacin- tha had set a bottle of wine. They arose and saluted the la- dies. " Be seated, my brave men," said Laure, " and tell me what you told Dard about Captain Dujardin." " Don't stain your mouth with the captain, my little lady. He is a trai- tor ! " " How do you know ? " " Mareellus ! Mademoiselle asks us how we know Captain Dujardin to be a traitor. Speak ! " Marcellus, thus ilppealcd to, told Laure, after his own fashion, that he knew the captain well ; that one day the captain rode out of the camp, and never returned ; that at first great anxiety was felt on his behalf, for the captain was a great favorite, and passed for the smartest soldier in the division ; that after a while anxiety 1* gave place to some very awkward sus- picions, and these suspicions it was his lot and his comrade's hereto confirm. About a month later he and the said comrade and two more had been sent, well mounted, to reconnoitre a Span- ish village. At the door of a little inn they had caught sight of a French uniform. This so excited their curi- osity that he went forward nearer than prudent, and distinctly recog- nized Captain Dujardin seated at a ta- ble drinking, between two guerillas ; that he rode back and told the others, who then rode up and satisfied them- selves it was so ; that if any of the party had entertained a doubt, it was removed in an unpleasant way. He, Marcelltis, disgusted at the sight of a French uniform drinking among Spaniards, took down his carabine and fired at the group as carefully as a somewhat restive horse permitted, at which, as if by magic, a score or so of guerillas poured out from Heaven, knows where, musket in hand, and delivered a volley : the officer in com- mand of the party fell dead, Jean Jacques got a broken arm, and his own horse was wounded in two places, and fell from loss of blood a few fur- longs from the French camp, to the neighborhood of which the vagabonds pursued them hallooing and shouting and firing like barbarous banditti as they were. " However, here I am," concluded Marcellus, who was naturally more interested in himself than in Captain Dujardin, "invalided for a while, my little ladies, but not expended yet : we will soon dash in among them again for death or glory ! Meantime," con- cluded he, filling both glasses, " let us drink to the eyes of beauty (military salute), and to the renown of France, and double damnation to all her traitors, like that Captain Dujardin, whose neck may the Devil twist." In the middle of this toast Josephine, who had stood rooted to one place with eyes glaring upon each speaker in turn, uttered a feeble cry like a dy- ing hare, and crept slowly out of the 10 WHITE LIES. room with the carriage and manner of a woman of fifty. Laure's first impulse was to follow Josephine, but this would have at- tracted attention to her despair. She had the tact and resolution to remain and say a few kind words to the sol- diers, and then she retired and darted up by instinct to Josephine's bedroom. The door was locked. " Josephine ! Josephine ! " No answer. " I want to speak to you. I am frightened, oh ! do not be alone ! " A choking voice answered : " I am not alone, I am with God and the saints. Give me a little while to draw my breath." Laure sank down at the door, and sat close to it, with her head against it, sobbing bitterly. The sensitive little love was hurt at not being let in, such a friend as she had proved her- self. But this personal feeling was but a small fraction of her grief and anxiety. A good half-hour had elapsed when Josephine, pale and stern as no one had ever seen her till that hour, sud- denly opened the door. She started at sight of Laure couched sorrowful on the threshold ; her stern look re- laxed into tender love and pity ; she sank on her knees and took her sis- ter's head quickly to her bosom. " O my little heart ! " cried she, "have you been here all this time ? " " Oh ! oh ! oh ! " was all the little heart could reply. Then Josephine sat down, and took Laure in her lap, and caressed and comforted her, and poured words of gratitude and affection over her like a warm shower. The sisters rose hand in hand. Then Laure suddenly seized Jo- sephine, and looked long and anx- iously down into her eyes. They flashed fire under the scrutiny. " Yes," she replied, " it is ended. I could not despise and love. I am dead to him, as he is dead to France." " Ah ! I hoped so, I thought so ; but you frightened me. My noble sister, were I ever to lose your es- teem I should die. O, how awful yet how beautiful is your scorn ! For worlds I would not be that Cam " Josephine laid her hand imperious- ly on Laure's mouth. " To mention that man's name to me will be to insult me ! De Beau- repaire I am, and a Frenchwoman ! Come, love, let us go down and com- fort our mother." They went down ; and this patient sufferer and high-minded conqueror of her own accord took up a com- monplace work, and read aloud for two mortal hours to her mother and St. Aubin. Her voice never wa- vered. To feel that life is ended, to wish existence, too, had ceased ; and so to sit down, an aching hollow, and take a part and sham an interest in twaddle to please others, such are woman's feats. How like nothing at all they look ! A man would rather sit on the bnf- fer of a steam-engine and ride at the great Redan. Laure sat at her elbow, a little be- hind her, and turned the leaves, and on one pretence or other held Jo- sephine's hand nearly all the rest of the day. Its delicate fibres remained tense like a greyhound's sinews after a race, and the blue veins rose to sight in it, though her voice and eyes were mastered. So keen was the strife, so matched the antagonists, so hard the vic- tory ! For ire and scorn are mighty. And noble blood in a noble heart is a hero. AXD LOVE is A GIANT. CHAPTER II. ABOUT this time, the French prov- inces were organized upon a half-mili- tary plan, by which all the local authorities radiated towards a centre of government. This feature has sur- vived subsequent revolutions and po- litical changes. In days of change, jwnth is always at a premium ; because, though experi- ence is valuable, the experience of one order of tilings unfits ordinary men for another order of things. A good many old fogies in office were shown to the door, and a good deal of youth and energy infused into the veins of provincial government. For instance, Citizen Edouard Riv- iere, who had just completed his edu- cation with singular eclat at a military school, was one fine day ordered into Brittany to fill a responsible post un- der the Commandant Raynal. Nervousness in a new situation gen- erally accompanies talent. The young citizen, as he rode to present his cre- dentials at head-quarters, had his tremors as well as his pride ; the more so as his new chief was a blunt, rough soldier, that had risen from the ranks, and bore a much higher character for zeal and moral integrity than for affa- bility. While the young citizen rides in his breeches and English top-boots, his white waistcoat and cravat, his abun- dant shirt-frill, his short-waisted blue coat with flat gilt buttons, his pig-tail, his handsome though beardless face and eager eyes, to this important interview, settling beforehand what he shall say, what shall be said to him, and what he shall reply, let us briefly dispose of the commandant's previous history. He was the son of a widow that kept a grocer's shop in Paris. She intended him for spice, but he thirsted for glory, kept running after the soldiers, and vexed her. " Soldiering in time of peace," said she ; " such nonsense, it is like swimming on a carpet." War came and robbed her satire of its point. The boy was reso- lute. The mother yielded now ; she was a Frenchwoman to the back- bone. In the armies of the Republic, a 11 good soldier rose with unparalleled certainty, and rapidity too ; for when soldiers are being mowed down like oats, it is a glorious time for such of them as keep their feet. Raynal rose through all the inter- vening grades to be a commandant and one of the general's aides-du-camp, and a colonel's epaulets glittered in sight. AH this time, Raynal used to write to his mother, and joke her about the army being sucli a bad pro- fession, and as he was all for glory, not money, he lived with Spartan frugality, and saved half his pay and all his prize-money for the old lady in Paris. And here, this prosperous man had to endure a great disappointment ; on the same day that he was made com- mandant, came a letter into the camp. His mother was dead after a short ill- ness. This was a terrible blow to the simple, rugged soldier, who had never had much time nor inclination to flirt with a lot of girls, and toughen his heart. He came back to Paris honored and rich, but downcast. On his arrival at the old place, it seemed to him not to have the old look. It made him sadder. To cheer him up, they brought him a lot of money. The widow's trade had taken a wonderful start the last few years, and she had been playing the same game as he had, living on tcnpcncc a day and saving all for him. This made him sadder. " What have we both been scraping all this dross together for ? I would give it all to sit one hour by the fire, with her hand in mine, and hear her say, ' Scamp, you made me unhappy when you were young, but I have lived to be proud of you.' " He found out the woman who had nursed her, flung more five-franc pieces into her lap than she had ever seen in one, place before, applied for active service, no matter what, ob- tained at once this post in Brittany, and went gloomily from Paris, leav- ing behind him the reputation of an 12 WHITE LIES. ungracious brute, devoid of sentiment. In fact, the one bit of sentiment in this Spartan was anything but a ro- mantic one ; at least, I am not aware of any successful romance that turns on filial affection ; but it was an abid- ing one. Here is a proof. It was some months after he had left Paris, and, indeed, as nearly as I can remem- ber, a couple of months after young Riviere's first interview with him, 'that, being in conversation with his friend Monsieur Perrin the notary, he told him he thought he never should cease to feel this regret. The notary smiled incredulous, but said nothing. " We were fools to scrape all this money together; it is no use to her, and, I am sure, it is none to me !" " Is it permitted to advise you ? " asked his friend, persuasively. " Speak ! " " This very money which your ele- vated nature condemns may be made the means of healing your wound. There are ladies, fair and prudent, who would at once capitulate he! he! to you, backed, as you are, by two or three hundred thousand francs. One of these, by her youth and affec- tion, would in time supply the place of her your devotion to whose memory does you so much credit. That sum would also enable you to become the possessor of an estate, a most advis- able investment, since estates are just now unreasonably depressed in value. Its wood and water would soothe vour eye, and relieve your sorrow by the sight of your wealth in an enjoyable foim ! " " Halt ! say that again in half the words ! " roared the commandant, roughly. The notary said it short. " You can buy a fine estate and a chaste wife with the money," snapped this smooth personage, sub- stituting curt brutality for honeyed prolixity. (Aside) "Marriage con- tract so much, commission so much." The soldier was struck by the propositions the moment they hit him in a condensed form, like his much- loved bullets. He Granted half his prayer, Scornful the rest dispersed in empty air. " Have I time to be running after women ? " said he. " But the estate I '11 have, because you can get that for me without my troubling my head." " Is it a commission, then ? " asked the other, sharply. " Parbleu! Do you think I speak for the sake of talking ? " No /nan had ever a larger assort- ment of tools than Bonaparte, or knew better what each could do and could not do. Raynal was a perfect soldier as far as he went, and therefore was valued highly. Bonaparte had formed him, too ; and we are not averse to our own work. Raynal, though not fit to command a division, had the chic Bonaparte visibly stamped on him by that mas- ter-hand. For a man of genius spits men of talent by the score. Each of these adopts one or other of his many great qualities, and builds himself on it. I see the mare'chals of the empire are beginning to brag, now everybody else is dead. Well, dissect all those mare'chals, men of talent, every one of them, and combine their leading ex- cellences in one figure, and add them up : Total, a Napoleonetto.* " Who is that ? I am busy writ- ing." " Monsieur the Commandant, I am the citizen Riviere, I am come to pre- sent myself to you, and to " " 1 know come for orders." * I mean, of course, as far as soldiering goes ; but soldiering was only a part of the man, a brilliant part which has blinded some people as to the proportions of thi> figure. He was a profound, though, from ne- cessity, not a liberal statesman, a great civil engineer, a marvellous orator in the lmdr>ir and the field, a sound and original critic in all the arts, and the greatest legislator of modern history. WHITE LIES. 13 "Exactly, commandant." " Humph ! Here is a report just sent in by young Nicole, who fills the same sort of post as you, only to the northward. Take this pen and an- alyze his report, while I write these letters." " Yes, commandant." " Write out the heads of your analysis Good : it is well done. Now take your heads home and act under them; and frame your report by them, and bring it me in person next Saturday." " It shall be done, commandant. Where are my quarters to be ? " The commandant handed him a pair of compasses, and pointed to a map on which Riviere's district was marked in blue ink. " Find the centre of your district." " This point is the centre, com- mandant." " Then quarter yourself on that point. Good day, citizen." This was the young official's first introduction to the chic Bonaparte. He rather admired it. " This is a character," said he ; " but by St. Denis, I should not like to commit a blunder under his eye." Edouard Riviere had zeal, and he soon found that his superior, with all his brusquerie, was a great appreciator of that quality. His instructions, too, were clear and precise. Riviere lost his misgivings in a very few days, and became inflated with the sense of his authority and merit, and the flattery and obsequiousness that soon wait on the former. The commandant's compasses had pointed to the village near Beaure- paire, as his future abode. The chateau was in sight from his apartments, and, on inquiry, lie was told it belonged to a Royalist family, a widow and two daughters, who held themselves quite aloof from the rest of the world. " Ah ! " said the young citizen, who had all the new ideas, and had been sneering four years at the old r&jime. " I see. If these rococo citizens play that game with me, I shall have to take them down." Thus, a fresh peril hung over this family, on whose hearts and fortunes such heavy blows had fallen. One evening, our young Republi- can officer, after a day spent in the service of the country, deigned to take a little stroll to relieve the cares of administration. He accordingly im- printed on his beardless face the ex- pression of a wearied statesman, and in that guise strolled through an ad- miring village. The men pretended veneration from policy. The women, whose views of this great man were shallower but more sincere, smiled approval. The young puppy affected to take no notice of either sex. Outside the village, Publicola sud- denly encountered two young ladies, who resembled nothing he had hither- to met with in his district. They were dressed in black, and with extreme simplicity; but their easy grace and composure, and the refined sentiment of their gentle faces, told at a glance they belonged to the high nobility. Publicola, though he had never seen them, divined them at once by their dress and mien, and, as he drew near, he involuntarily raised his hat to so much beauty and dignity, instead of just poking it with a finger a la R&- publique. On this, the ladies instant- ly courtesied to him after the manner of their party, with a sweep and a majesty, and a precision of politeness, that the pup would have laughed at if he had heard of it ; but seeing it done, and well done, and by lovely women of high rank, he was taken aback by it, and lifted his hat again, and bowed again after he had gone by, which was absurd, and was generally flus- tered. In short, instead of R member of the Republican Government salut- ing private individuals of a decayed party, that existed only by sufferance, a handsome, vain, good-natured boy had met two self-possessed young ladies of high rank and breeding, and 14 WHITE LIES. had cut the figure usual upon such occasions. For the next hundred yards, his cheeks burned, and his vanity was cooled. But bumptiousness is elastic in France as in England and among the Esquimaux. " "Well, they are pretty girls," says he to himself. " I never saw two such pretty girls together, they will do for me to flirt with while I am ban- ished to this Arcadia." (Banished from school !) And " awful beauty " being no longer in sight, Mr. Edouard resolved he would flirt with them to their hearts' content. But there are ladies with whom a certain preliminary is required before you can flirt with them. You must be on speaking terms with them first. How was this to be managed ? " O, it would come somehow or other if he was always meeting them ; and really a man that is harassed, and worked as I am, requires some agreeable recreation of this sort." " Etc." He used to watch at his window with a telescope, and whenever the sisters came out of their own grounds, which unfortunately was not above three times a week, he would throw himself in their way by the merest accident, and pay them a dig- nified and courteous salute, which he had carefully got up before a mir- ror in the privacy of his own cham- ber. In return he received two rever- ences that were to say the least as digni- fied and courteous as his own, though they had not had the advantage of a special rehearsal. So far so good. But a little cir- cumstance cooled our Adonis's hopes of turning^, bowing acquaintance into a speaking one, and a speaking into a flirting. There was a flaw at the founda- tion of this pyramid of agreeable se- quences. Studying the faces of these cour- teous beauties, he became certain that no recognition of his charming person mingled with their repeated acts of politeness. Some one of their humbler neigh- bors had the grace to salute them with the respect due to them : this was no uncommon occurrence to them even now. When it did happen, they made the proper return. They were of too high rank and breeding to be outdone in politeness. But that the same person met then* whenever they came out, and that he was handsome and interesting, no consciousness of this phenomcnoif beamed in those charming coun tenances. Citizen Riviere was first piqued and then began to laugh at his want of courage, and on a certain day when his importance was vividly present to him he took a new step towards mak- ing this agreeable acquaintance : he marched up to the Chateau de Beau- repaire and called on the baroness of that ilk. He sent up his name and office with due pomp. Jacintha returned with a note black-edged : " Highly flattered by Monsieur df, Riviere's visit, the baroness informed him that she received none but old ac- quaintances in the present grief of th family and of the kingdom." Young Riviere was cruelly morti- fied by this rebuff. He went off" hur- riedly, grinding his teeth with rage. " Cursed aristocrats ! Ah ! we have done well to pull you down, and we will have you lower still. How I despise myself for giving any one the chance to affront me thus ! The haughty old fool ! if she had known her interest, she would have been too glad to make a powerful friend. These Royalists are in a ticklish posi- tion : I can tell her that. But stay, she calls me De Riviere. She does not know who I am then ! Takes me for some young aristocrat ! Well then after all, but no! that makes it worse. She implies that nobody without a ' De ' to their name would WHITE LIES. 15 have the presumption to visit her old tumble-down house. Well, it is a lesson ! I am a Republican and the Commonwealth trusts and honors me ; yet I am so ungrateful as to go out of the way to be civil to her enemies, to Royalists ; as if those worn-out creatures had hearts, as if they could comprehend the struggle that took place in my mind between duty and generosity to the fallen, before I could make the first overture to their acquaintance, as if they could un- derstand the politeness of the heart, or anything nobler than curving and ducking, and heartless etiquette. This is the last notice I will ever take of that family, that you may take your oath of ! ! ! ! " He walked home to the town very fast, his heart boiling and his lips compressed, and his brow knitted. Just outside the town he met Jose- phine and Laure de Beaurepaire. At the siLjht of their sweet faces his moody brow cleared a little, and he was surprised into saluting them as usual, only more stiffly, when lo ! from one of the ladies there broke a smile so sudden, so sweet, and so vivid, that he felt it hit him on the eyes and on the heart. His teeth unclenched themselves, his resolve dissolved, and another came in its place. Nothing should prevent him from penetrating into that forti- fied castle, which contained at least one sweet creature who had recog- nized him, and given him a smile brimful of sunshine. That night he hardly slept at all, and woke very nearly if not quite in love. Such was the power of a smile. Yet this young gentleman had seen many smilers, but to be sure most of them smiled without effect, because they smiled eternally; they seemed cast with their mouths open, and their pretty teeth forcA-er in sight, which has a saddening influence on a man of sense, when it has any. But here a pensive face had bright- ened at sight of him ; a lovely coun- tenance on which circumstances, not Nature, had impressed gravity, had sprung back to its natural gayety fora moment, and for him. Difficulties spur us whenever they do not check us. My lord sat at his window with his book and telescope for hours every day. Alas ! mesdemoiselles did not leave the premises for three days. But on the fourth industry was re- warded : he met them, and, smiling himself by anticipation, it was his fate to draw from the lady a more ex- quisite smile than the last. Smile the second made his heart beat so he could feel it against his waistcoat. Beauty is power: a smile is its sword. These two charming thrusts subdued if they did not destroy Publicola's wrath against the baroness, and his heart was now all on a glow. A passing glimpse two or three times a week no longer satisfied its yearning. There was a little fellow called Dard who went out shooting witli him in. the capacity of a beater, this young man seemed to know a great deal about the family. He told him that the ladies of Beaurepaire went to Mass every Sunday at a little church two miles off. The baroness used to go too, but now they have no carriage she stays at home. She won't go to church or any where else now she can't drive up and have a blazing lackey to hand her out, " Arista va." * Riviere smiled at this demonstra- tion of plebeian bile. Next Sunday saw him a political renegade. He failed in a prime arti- cle of Republican faith. He went to church. The Repuhlic had given up going to church : the male part of it in par- ticular. Citizen Riviere attended church and there worshipped Cupid. He smarted for this. The young ladies went with higher motives, and took no notice of him. They lowered their * Aristocrat go to ! 16 tVHITE LIES. long silken lashes over one breviary, and scarcely observed the handsome citizen. Meantime he, contemplating their pious beauty with earthly eyes, was drinking long draughts of intoxicat- ing passion. And when after the service they each took an arm of St. Aubin, and he, with the air of an admiral convoying two ships choke-full of specie, conduct- ed his precious charge away home, our young citizen felt jealous, and all but hated the worth}' doctor. One day Riviere was out shooting, accompanied by Dard. A covey of partridges got up wild, and went out of bounds into a field of late clover. " It is well clone, citizen," shouted little Dard, "at present we are going to massacre them." " But that is not my ground." " Xo matter : it belongs to Beaure- pairc." " The last people I should like to take a liberty with." "You must not be so nice; they have no gamekeeper now to interfere with us : they can't afford one. Aha ! aristocrats ! The times are changed since your pigeons used to devastate us, and we durst not shoot one of the marauders, the very pheasants are at our mercy now." " The more ungenerous would it be of us to take advantage." " Citizen, I tell you everybody shoots over Beaurepaire." " O, if everybody does it " In short Dard prevailed. A small amount of logic suffices to prove to a man of one-and-twenty that it is mor- al to follow his birds. Our hero had his misgivings ; but the game was abundant, and tamer than elsewhere. In for a penny in for a pound. The next time they went out together, 1 blush to say he began with this very field of clover, and killed two brace in it. It was about four o'clock of this day when the sportsman and his assistant emerged from the fields upon the high road between Beaurepaire and the village, and made towards the latter. They had to pass Bigot's auberye, a long low house all across whu-h from end to end was printed in gigan- tic letters : ' ICI ON" LOCK A PIED ET A CHEVAL." * " Here one lodges on foot and horseback." Opposite this Dard halted and looked wistfully in his superior's face, and laid his hand pathetically on his centre- "What is the matter? Are you ill ? " " Very ill, citizen." " What is it ? " " The soldier's gripes," replied this vulgar little party ; " and, citizen, only smell ; the soup is just coming off the fire." This little Dard resembled (in ono particular) Cardinal Wolsey, as handed down to us by the immortal bard, and by the painters of his day : " lie was a man of an unbounded stomach." He had gone two hours past his usual feeding time, and was in pain and affliction. Riviere laughed and consented. " We will have it in the porch," said he. The consent was no sooner out of his mouth than Dard dashed wildly into the kitchen. Riviere himself was not sorry of an excuse to linger an hour in a place where the ladies of Beaurepaire might perhaps pass and see him in a new costume, his shooting cap and jack- et, adorned with all the paraphernalia of the sport, which in France are got up with an eye to ornament as well as u<;e. The soap was brought ont, and for several minutes Dard's feelings were too great for utterance. But Riviere did not take after the great cardinal, especially since he had fallen in love. He soon" despatched a * What a row the latter customers must make going up to bed ! WHITE LIES. frugal meal ; then went in and got some scraps for the dog, and then be- gan to lay the game out and count it. He emptied his own pocket and Dard's game-bag, and altogether it made a good show. The small citizen was now in a fit state to articulate. " A good day's work, citizen," said he, stretching himself luxuriously, till he turned from a rotundity to an oval; "and most of it killed on the lands of Beaurepaire, all the bet- ter." " You appear not to love that fam- ily, Dard." " Your penetration is not at fault, citizen. I do not love that family," was the stern reply. Edouard, for a reason before hinted at, was in no hurry to leave the place, and the present seemed a good oppor- tunity for pumping Dard. He sent therefore for two pipes : one he pre- tended to smoke, the other he gave Dard : for this shrewd' young person- age had observed that these, rustics, under the benign influence of tobacco, were placidly reckless in their reve- lations. "By the by, Dard (puff), why did you say you dislike that family ? " " Because because I can't help it ; it is stronger than 1 am. I hate them, arista va ! " ( puff.) " But why ? why ? why ? " " Ah ! good, you demand why ? (puff). Well, then, because they im- pose upon Jacintha." " Oh ! " " And then she imposes upon me." " Even now I do not quite under- stand. Explain, Dard, and assure yourself of my sympathy" (puff). Thus encouraged, Dard became lo- quacious. "Those Beaurepaire aristocrats," said he, with his hard peasant good sense, " are neither one thing nor the other. They cannot keep up nobility, they have not the means, they will not come down off their perch, they have not the sense. No, for as small as they are, they must look and talk as big as ever. They can only afford one servant, and I don't believe they pay her, but they must be attended on just as obsequious as when they had a dozen. And this is fatal to all us little people that have the misfortune to be connected with them." " Why, how arc you connected with them ? " " By the tie of affection." " I thought you hated them." " Clearly : but I have the ill luck to love Jacintha, and she loves these aristocrats, and makes me do little odd jobs for them " ; and here Dard's eye suddenly glared with horror. " Well ! what of it ? " " What of it, citizen, what ? you do not know the fatal meaning of those accursed words ? " " Why, it is not an obscure phrase. I never heard of a man's back being broken by little odd jobs." " Perhaps not his back, citizen, but his heart ? if little odd jobs will not break that, why, nothing will. Torn from place to place, and from trouble to trouble : as soon as one tiresome thing begins to go a bit smooth, off to a fresh plague, a new handicraft to torment your head and your fingers over every day : in-doors work when it is dry, out a doors when it snows, and then all bustle, no taking one's work quietly, the only way it agrees with a fellow : no repose. ' Milk the cow, Dard, but look sharp ; for the baroness's chair wants mending, take these slops to the pig, but you must not wait to see him enjoy them ; you are wanted to chop billets for me.' Beat the mats, take down the cur- . tains, walk to church (best part of a league) and heat the pew cushions, come back and cut the cabbages, paint the door, and wheel the old lady about the terrace, rub quicksilver on the little dog's back : mind he don't bite you to make himself sick ! repair the ottoman, roll the gravel, clean the kettles, carry half a ton of water up three pair of stairs, trim the turf, prune the vine, drag the fish-pond, and when you are there, go in and 18 WHITE LIES. gather water-lilies for Mademoiselle Josephine while you are drowning the puppies ; that is little odd jobs. May Satan twist her neck who invented them ! " " Very sad all this," said young Riviere, as gravely as he could ; " hut about the family." " I am citizen. When I go into their kitchen to court Jacintha a bit, instead of finding a good supper there, which a man has a right to, courting a cook, if I don't take one in my pocket, there is no supper, not to say supper, for either her or me. I don't call a salad and a bit of cheese rind supper ! Beggars in silk and satin I call them. Every sou they have goes on to their backs, instead of into their bellies." "Nonsense, Dard. I know your capacity, but you could not eat a hole in their income, that ancient fam- ily." " I could eat it all, and sit here. Income ! I would not change incomes with them if they 'd throw me in a pancake a day. I tell you, citizen, they are the poorest family for leagues round ; not that they need be quite so poor, if they could swallow a little of their pride. But no, they must have china, and plate, and fine linen, at dinner ; so thejr fine plates are always bare, and their silver trays empty. Ask the butcher, if you don't believe me ! " You ask him whether he does not go three times to the smallest shop- keeper, for once he goes to Beaure- paire. Their tenants send them a little meal and eggs, and now and then a hen, because they must ; their great garden is chock-full of fruit and vegetables, and Jacintha makes me dig in it gratis, and so they muddle on. And then the baroness must have her coffee as in the days of old, and they can't afford to buy it, so they roast, haw ! haw ! they roast a lot of horse beans that cost nothing, and grind them, and serve up the liquor in a silver cafttiere, on a silver alver. Aristo va." " Is it possible ? reduced to this ! oh!" " Perdition seize them ! why don't they melt their silver into soup, why don't they sell the superfluous and buy the grub ? and I can't see why they don't let their house and that accursed garden, in which I sweat gratis, and live in a small house, and be content with as many servants as they can pay wages to." " Dard," said Riviere, thoughtfully, interrupting him, " is it really true about the beans ? " " I tell yon I have seen Mademoi- selle Laure doing it for the old wo- man's breakfast ; it was Laure invented the move. A girl of nineteen begin- ning already to deceive the world. But they are all tarred with the same stick. Aristo va." " Dard, yon are a brute ! " " Me, citizen ? " " You ! there is noble poverty, as well as noble wealth. I might have disdained these people in their pros- perity, hut I revere them in their af- fliction." " I consent," replied Dard, very coolly. " That is your affair ; but permit me," and here he clenched his teeth at remembrance of his wrongs, " on my own part to say that I will no more be a scullery-man without wages to these high-minded starve- lings, these illustrious beggars." Then he heated himself red hot. " I will not even be their galley-slave. Next, I have done my last little odd job in this world," yelled the now in- furiated factotum. " All is ended. Of two things one, either Jacintha quits those aristos, or I leave Jacin Eh ? ah ! oh ! ahem ! How 'owd'ye do, Jacintha 1" and his roar ended in a whine, as when a dog runs barking out and receives in full career a cut from his master's whip, and his generous rage turns to whim- per then and there. " I was just talk' ing of you, Jacintha," faltered Dard, in conclusion. " I heard you, Dard," replied Jacin- tha, slowly, quietly, grimly. WHITE LIES. 19 Dard from oval shrank back to round. The person whose sudden appear- ance at the door of the porch reduced the swelling Dard to his natural lim- its, moral and corporeal, was a strap- ping young woman, with a comely, peasant face, somewhat freckled, and a pair of large black eyes, surmounted by coal-black brows that inclined to meet upon the bridge of the nose. She stood in a bold attitude, her mas- sive but well-formed arms folded so that the pressure of each against the other made them seem gigantic, and her cheek pale with wrath, and her eyes glittering like basilisks' upon citi- zen Dard. Had petulance mingled with her wrath, Riviere would have howled with laughter at Dard's dis- comfiture, and its cause ; but a hand- some woman, boiling with suppressed ire, has a touch of the terrible, and Jacintha's black eyes and lowering black brows gave her, in this moment of lofty indignation, a grander look than belonged to her. So even Riv- iere put down his pipe, and gazed up in her face with a shade of misgiving. She now slowly unclasped her arms, and, with her great eye immovably fixed on Dard, she pointed with a commanding gesture towards Beaure- paire. Citizen Dard was no longer master of his own limbs ; he was even as a bird fascinated by a rattlesnake ; he rose slowly, with his eyes fastened to hers, and was moving off like an ill-oiled automaton in the direction in- dicated ; but at this a suppressed snig- ger began to shake Riviere's whole body till it bobbed up and down on the seat. That weakened the spell: Dard turned to him ruefully. " There, citizen," he cried, " do you see that imperious gesture 1 Now I '11 tell you what that means, that means you promised to dig in the aristocrat's garden this afternoon, so march ! Here, then, is one that has gained nothing by kings being -put down, for I am ruled with a rod of iron. Thank your stars, citizen, that you are not in my place." " Dard," retorted Jacintha, " if you don't like your place, you can quit it. I know two or three that will be glad to take it. There, say no more ; now I am here I will go back to the village, and we shall see whether all the lads recoil from a few little jobs to be done by my side, and paid by my friendship." " No ! no ! Jacintha ; don't be a fool !. I am going ; there, I am at your service, my dear friend. Come ! " " Go then ; you know what to do." " And leave you here ? " " Yes," said Jacintha. " I must speak a word to monsieur, you have rendered it necessary." The subjugated one crept to Beau- repaire, but often looked behind him. He did not relish leaving Jacintha with the handsome young citizen, es- pecially after her hint that there were better men in the district than himself. Jacintha turned to young Riviere, and spoke to him in a very different tone, coldly, but politely. " Monsieur will think me very hardy thus to address a stranger, but I ought not to allow monsieur to be deceived, and those I serve belied." " There needs no excuse, female citi- zen. I am at your service ; be seated." " Many thanks, monsieur ; but I will not sit down, for I am going im- mediately." " All the worse, female citizen. But I say, it seems to me then you heard what Dard was saying to me. What, did you listen ? O fie ! " " No, monsieur, I did not listen," replied Jacintha, haughtily. "I am incapable of it ; there was no necessity. Dard bawled so loud the whole village might hear. I was passing, and heard a voice I knew raised so high, I feared he was drunk ; I came therefore to the side of the porch with the best in- tentions. Arrived there, words struck my ear that made me pause. I was so transfixed I could not move. Thus, quite in spite of myself, I suffered the pain of hearing his calumnies ; you see, monsieur, that I did not play the spy on you ; moreover, that character would nowise suit with my natural 20 WHITE LIES. disposition. I heard too your answer, which does you so much credit, and I instantly resolved that you should not be imposed upon." " Thank you, female citizen." " Neither the family I serve, nor myself, are reduced to what that little fool described. I ought not to laugh, I ought to be angry ; but after all it was only Dard, and Dard is a noto- rious fool. There, monsieur," con- tinued she, graciously, " I will be can- did, I will tell you all. It is perfectly true that the baron contracted debts, and that the baroness, out of love for her children, is paying them off as fast as possible, that the estate may be clear before she dies. It is also true that these heavy debts cannot be paid off without great economy. But let us distinguish. Prudence is not poverty ; rather, my young monsieur, it is the thorny road to wealth." " That is neatly expressed, female citizen ! " " Would monsieur object to call me by my name, since that of citizen is odious to me and to most women ? " " Certainly not, Mademoiselle Ja- cintha, I shall even take a pleasure in it, since it will seem to imply that we are making a nearer acquaintance, mademoiselle." " Not mademoiselle, any more than citizen. I am neither demoiselle, nor dame, but plain Jacintha." " No ! no ! no ! not plain Jacintha ! Do yon think I have no eyes then, pretty Jacintha?" " Monsieur, a truce to compli- ments ! Let us resume ! " " Be seated, then, pretty Jacintha ! " " It is useless, monsieur, since I am goin