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 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
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THE ORPHAN; 
 
 OK, 
 
 MEMOIRS OF MATILDA. 
 
 BY EUGENE SUE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE “ MYSTERIES OF PARIS.” 
 
 TRANSLATED BY THE HON. D. G. OSBORNE, 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY-FOUR ENGRAVINGS, 
 
 BY ROBERT CRUIK SHANK. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 T. C. NEWBY, 72, MORTIMER St., CAVENDISH Sq, 
 
 1849. 
 
THE ORPHAN; 
 
 Q Struct bo 
 
 V, / 
 
 OR 
 
 MEMOIRS OF MATILDA. 
 
 CHAPTER i. 
 
 THE CAFE LEBCEUF. 
 
 Towards the end of December, 1838, you might have seen (and 
 probably might see still) an unpretending coffee-house rejoicing in 
 the name of u Le Cafe Leboeuf,” situated in the street St. Louis, in 
 the Marais, and opposite to the ancient hotel D’Orbesson, which 
 2 vast and melancholy residence had been let, after being inhabited 
 " during many generations, by an old family of legal pursuits. Its 
 last proprietor, the President D’Orbesson, had died a few months 
 after the Restoration. In the month of October, 1838, the bills an- 
 nouncing that the mansion in question was to let, had been taken 
 down. An old porter, who had taken care of the place, was dis- 
 missed, and a tenant entered into possession of this sombre building, 
 which had two stories, a court yard on one side, and a garden on the 
 other. A large worm-eaten gate, flanked by a couple of square 
 buildings which were used as offices,' opened into the street. The 
 hotel D’Orbesson, even when inhabited, appeared to the full as de- 
 serted and solitary as before. 
 
 The grass continued to grow as thickly as ever at the threshold of the 
 great gate, which had never been opened since the arrival of the last 
 tenant, known as Colonel Ulric. In the more populous, or fashionable 
 quarters of Paris, one is pretty well secure from the scandal or cu- 
 riosity of one’s neighbours. Every one is too much occupied with his 
 
 B 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 own pursuits, or his own pleasures, to waste a time which is so ■va- 
 luable in those old womanish tales, and that worrying and eternal 
 espionnage which are the great delights of a provincial community. 
 Such, however, is not the case in certain more retired quarters of 
 the capital ; we mean those which are for the most part inhabited 
 either by persons who live upon a small competency of their 
 own, or by old fellows retired from affairs. These are people 
 pre-eminently idle and passionately fond of the marvellous, and 
 who are constantly possessed with the imperious desire of disco- 
 vering all that is going on in the streets, or in other people’s families. 
 Be it said, however, to the praise of these worthy citizens who are 
 so fond of exercising their imaginations, That they care but little for 
 the importance of those facts on which they are pleased to bestow 
 a poetical clothing after their own fashion. Any thing, the least 
 out of the common affords an amply sufficient foundation for them, 
 on which to build up the most monstrous romances ; and these fic- 
 tions, so eomplaisantly brought into the world, satisfy and content 
 them for many months. 
 
 But should the persons whose affairs they are so desirous of inves- 
 tigating be unfortunately obstinate in never affording them even the 
 •pretext for one of their favourite fables, but envelope him or her- 
 self in a web of impenetrable mystery, the curiosity of these idlers 
 thus driven back and defeated ,with no issue by which it can find a 
 vent, becomes speedily wound up to a pitch of phrenzy. When 
 they have arrived at this state, they recoil from no methods, how- 
 ever extreme, in order to gratify their darling passion. 
 
 Such had been the effect which Colonel Ulric, during the three 
 months he had inhabited the Marais, had succeeded in producing 
 upon the baffled curiosity of his neighbours who were, most of them, 
 frequenters of the Cafe Leboeuf, which was situated, as we have al- 
 ready said, opposite the hotel D'Orbesson. 
 
 Nothing could appear more extraordinary than this Colonel’s 
 mode of living ; his windows were always closed ; he never left the 
 house unless it were in a mysterious way, through a little garden- 
 gate, which opened upon an unfrequented alley. The Colonel’s 
 servant was a tall man, of forbidding aspect. Every morning a little 
 door in the offices was opened to admit a basket of provisions, fur- 
 nished by a neighbouring eating-house keeper, and was immediately 
 closed again. 
 
 The inquisitive gentry opposite having only this solitary circum- 
 stance whereon to ground their conjectures, managed to bribe the 
 tradesman who furnished the provisions ; and endeavoured to form 
 some idea of the manners and disposition of the mysterious Colonel 
 by a conscientious investigation of the articles of food with which he 
 was daily supplied. 
 
 In spite of the extreme development of their inventive faculties, 
 the frequenters of the Caffi Leboeuf were unable to form any 
 serious hypothesis from these data. 
 
 The Colonel appeared addicted to a very simple and temperate 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 3 
 
 diet. Nevertheless, it was darkly hinted, by some of the more ima- 
 ginative spies, that it was just possible the man of mystery might 
 devour the chickens raw, like an Ogre. These insinuations, how- 
 ever, although not without an appearance of being well grounded, 
 were not attended to for the moment. 
 
 Another and most important remark ! The postman had never 
 brought a single letter to the hotel D’Orbesson ; not one person 
 for three months had crossed its mysterious threshold. 
 
 You may guess how many stratagems had been laid, in order to 
 get a word or two of information out of the Colonel’s servant, or at 
 least to get a peep at the inside of the house. 
 
 All the seattempts proved fruitless, and the neighbours, reduced to 
 a kind of armed observation and uninterrupted surveillance, had 
 established the centre of their operations at the Cafe Leboeuf. At 
 the head of the inquisitors were two brothers, named Godet, both 
 bachelors, and both formerly employed as clerks, in the lottery-office. 
 Since the Colonel had taken up his quarters at the hotel D’Or- 
 besson these two brothers had discovered a purpose, or at least 
 the shadow of one, for their existence, which, hitherto, had been 
 passably uninteresting. Bent upon discovering who the mysterious 
 unknown could be, they formed fresh projects every day, and made 
 fresh efforts to unravel the living enigma, which so tantalized them. 
 
 The Widow Leboeuf, hostess of the Cafe, was an auxiliary to 
 the two brothers. Entrenched behind the great bottles of cherries 
 and the silver punch bowls, which were the ornaments of her bar, 
 she kept her large, staring eyes continually levelled at the doors of 
 the hotel. 
 
 We need not feel surprised at this perseverance in playing the 
 part of spies in a desert, when we reflect that the very uselessness 
 of our idlers’ investigations was a powerful incentive to their cu- 
 riosity. They were in daily expectation of discovering some im- 
 portant fact. 
 
 As we said before, December was drawing to a close. The clock 
 in the coffee-house had just struck twelve, and Madame Leboeuf, 
 with her nose clapped close to the window, was dividing her atten- 
 tion between the snow, which was falling in heavy flakes, and the 
 door of the hotel D’Orbesson. 
 
 The Widow was surprised at not having yet seen the two brothers 
 Godet, who were regular customers of her’s, and never missed 
 coming every morning to breakfast in her house. 
 
 At last they passed the window, entered the house, and took off 
 their cloaks, which were dripping with snow. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, Monsieur Godet,” exclaimed the widow, ad- 
 dressing the elder brother, whose head was bandaged up, “ what has 
 happened to your forehead V* 
 
 The elder Godet was a fat, bald man, of ruddy complexion, with 
 a prominent “ corporation,” and an important and dogmatical ex- 
 pression of countenance. He lifted up a little the bandage of black 
 B 3 
 
4 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 silk which concealed his left eye, and replied, with an indignant air, 
 and in a bass voice, which would have done credit to the chorister 
 o a Cathedral — 
 
 “ It is some of the doings of that monster, Robin of the Woods.” 
 (The inquisitors of the Cafe Leboeuf had thus ingeniously nicknamed 
 the inhabitant of the hotel D’Orbesson.) 
 
 “ It is some of the doings of that monster, Robin of the Woods,” 
 repeated the younger Godet, who played the part of a faithful echo 
 to his brother. 
 
 “ Lord have mercy upon us ; do make haste and tell me all about 
 it,” cried Madame Leboeuf, trembling with impatience. 
 
 i( It is soon told, my dear Madame,” replied the ex-clerk. “ It was 
 high time to have done with this adventurer ; this vagabond, this 
 profligate, who crouches over there in his den, like a real wild beast 1 
 (And mind though I do call him a wild beast, I am not assailing his 
 honour or his morality ; I merely ask this simple question, if he is 
 not after some mischief, or has not been after some, why the deuce 
 should he hide himself like a real wild beast ?”) 
 
 After this victorious parenthesis, the elder Godet lifted up again 
 the bandage over his left eye. 
 
 “ V ery true ; why should he hide himself,” repeated in chorus, the 
 attentive frequenters of the Cafe. 
 
 “ It is just like our government !” continued Monsieur Godet 
 with bitterness, “ which is always scenting, nosing out, and arresting 
 conspirators ; but where the safety and tranquillity of peaceful 
 citizens are concerned, your humble servant ! there is no more a 
 constable or a commissary of police to be found, than there would be 
 among the Hottentots.” 
 
 “ Than there would be among the Hottentots,” echoed Monsieur 
 Godet, junior. 
 
 “ Alas ! my good Madame Leboeuf,” continued the elder Godet, 
 “ what did I do 1 — what ought I to have done, in the dangerous 
 situation in which we found ourselves, and having only my own 
 powers to rely upon ? Why, I said to myself, said I, ‘ Godet, thou 
 art an honest man ; thou hast a duty, a great duty to accomplish ; 
 do what thou oughtest to do, Godet, be the event what it may. 
 There is in thy neighbourhood a vagabond, an adventurer, a profli- 
 gate, who, to the beard of a whole street, of a whole quarter of 
 Paris, dares to hide himself in a most impudent manner, for whole 
 weeks, nay, months together, and this, too, without the Government 
 taking a single step to put an end to such a public scandal.’ ” 
 
 “ You may well call it a scandal,” said Madame Leboeuf, “ it is 
 impossible to know what those neighbours are at who never show 
 themselves. In such a case one is obliged to scandalise them.” 
 
 “ It is a frightful scandal,” continued Godet the elder, “ I not 
 only say so, but I will prove it ; it is an evident, palpable fact that 
 this adventurer turns up his nose at the opinion of his fellow citi- 
 zens, by thus withdrawing himself from their severe, but equitable 
 appreciation, 1 Man proposes ; but God disposes.’” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 & 
 
 Madame Leboeuf, who did not exactly see the a propos of this 
 philosophical quotation, and was impatient to get to the pith of the 
 story, exclaimed, 
 
 “ Very true, Monsieur Godet, but how do you come to have that 
 bandage over your eye ?” 
 
 “ You shall soon know, my dear Madame ; yesterday I called my 
 brother, my worthy brother, and said to him, ‘ Dieudonne, we must 
 put an end to this intolerable abuse ; we must, even at the risk of 
 our lives, find out who and what this adventurer is. I will not con- 
 ceal it from thee, my brother,’ continued I to Dieudonne, ‘ it is a 
 question of life and death with me. It is now three months since 
 this profligate has inhabited our quarter of the town, and as I have, 
 during that time, vainly endeavoured to find out who he is, and 
 what he does, I can scarcely be said to live. I am eaten up with 
 uneasiness ; I have most atrocious dreams and abominable night- 
 mares. It has got to such a pitch, that even my physical functions 
 are beginning to be affected. Yes, my dear Madame Leboeuf, as I 
 have the honour of informing you, my functions are beginning to be 
 affected.’ So I said to myself, ( Godet, thou shalt not commit such 
 a suicidal act as to dig thy own tomb, for the pleasure of this ad- 
 venturer. This mystery, Godet, excites thee immeasurably — well, 
 then ; find out this mystery, and thou wilt then deserve to recover 
 that tranquillity of thine, which this vagabond has wickedly dis- 
 turbed.’ I did what I said, my dear Madame ; yesterday at nightfal, 
 I borrowed a ladder from our neighbour, the carpenter ; I crossed 
 the street with Dieudonne ; we entered the alley, into which Robin of 
 the Wood’s little garden gate opens ; I placed the ladder against 
 the wall ; I ascended ; there was just daylight enough left to see 
 into the garden and into the interior of the house.” 
 
 “ Well 1” cried Madame Leboeuf. 
 
 “ Well, Madame, just as I was pushing my head forward, in order 
 to look over the top of the wall, a gun was fired.” 
 
 “ Gracious Heavens ! a gun !” cried the widow. 
 
 “ A real gun, Madame, a real attempt was made on my individual 
 existence ; my hat fell off, and I felt myself struck in the forehead 
 and the eye, just as if I had received the pricks of a thousand pins 
 thrust home, and I heard the voice, (I should recognise it among a 
 thousand) I heard the voice of that adventurer’s janissary exclaim- 
 ing, with a ferocious and sarcastic accent, “ Next time it shall be 
 good large slugs, instead of dust shot ; next time the face shall be 
 aimed at instead of the hat.” Such, my dear Madame Leboeuf, is 
 the pleasant state of things to which we are brought by the Govern- 
 ment. You see it yourself, peaceable citizens are coolly massacred, 
 even on the top of the highest walls.” 
 
 “ Why it is downright assassination,” said Madame Leboeuf, “ you 
 must go to the commissary, Monsieur Godet, and have some 
 witnesses.” 
 
 “ That is exactly, my dear madame, what I said to myself, as I 
 
6 
 
 THE ORMAN. 
 
 rather precipitately descended from the ladder ; ‘ yes/ I said to 
 myself, ‘ Godet, thou must go this instant and make thy complaint 
 to the magistrate.’ But you shall just see under what an agreeable 
 government we have the pleasure of living. A quarter of an hour 
 afterwards I entered the Commissary’s office, just as they were 
 lighting his lamp — his lamp, indeed — intended, I suppose, as a de- 
 risive emblem of the clear-sightedness which that functionary 
 ought to possess ! I took with me most convincing evidences, 
 namely, my hat, which was full of holes, and my forehead, which 
 was completely blue. 
 
 “ Well !” 
 
 “ Well, Madame Leboeuf, the Commissary told me — he had the 
 indecency to tell me, that I had only got what I deserved, and that 
 if it had not been for the high estimation in which, for the last 
 twenty-two years and some months, I have been held throughout 
 this neighbourhood, he would have been obliged to prosecute me for 
 breaking into an inhabited house at night.” 
 
 “ The wretch !” exclaimed Madame Leboeuf. 
 
 “ And thus,” continued Monsieur Godet, the elder, with bitter 
 irony, and an emphasis worthy of Cicero, u and thus an adventurer 
 may insolently excite public curiosity, by concealing his person ; and 
 an honest citizen, of good reputation, may be shot, yes, shot with 
 impunity, because he has attempted to escape from the state of 
 anguish, uneasiness, and perplexity into which his ignorance of a 
 mystery which may, perhaps, be of importance to the public safety, 
 has plunged him. Listen, Madame Leboeuf,” added Monsieur Godet, 
 in an oracular tone of voice, and drawing himself up to his full 
 height, “ a great man once said, I do not know who he was, but 
 that is of no consequence ; it was a great man who said it, 1 Every 
 citizen ought to live in a glass-house.’ I myself set an example of 
 this ; my house is a glass one ; in fact, more a great bottle, than 
 a house ; let every body look in there, and they will see me always 
 devoted to the tranquillity of my fellow citizens, and ” 
 
 Monsieur Godet was unable to finish his philippic, for he was 
 interrupted in the middle, by a most astounding event. A very 
 handsome carriage, with a conspicuous coat of arms painted on its 
 pannels, and drawn by two beautiful horses, suddenly pulled up 
 before the great gate of the hotel D’Orbesson. 
 
 T1 lis carriage had come at a foot’s pace, and from the blinds being 
 drawn up, it was clear that no one was inside. A chasseur, in a 
 splendid livery, descended from the box, where he had been sitting 
 with the coachman who wore an amaranth coloured fur cloak. 
 
 Scarcely had the chasseur touched the knocker of the door, 
 when, for the first time for three months, it opened to admit the 
 carriage, and was then instantly closed again. 
 
 The idlers of the Cafe Leboeuf stared at one another in a kind of 
 stupefaction. They were, doubtless, about to indulge in the most 
 extravagant observations when the door was again opened. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 7 
 
 The carriage was driven rapidly out, and a man, still young, and 
 of a very swarthy complexion, was observed sitting, in an easy atti- 
 tude, inside. He wore the uniform of a Hungarian Lancer, white, 
 with a blue collar, covered with gold embroidery. Round his neck, 
 and on his breast, glittered several crosses and foreign orders. 
 
 “ Well, I’m sure,” exclaimed Monsieur Godet the elder, “ then 
 Robin of the Woods is, after all, some great nobleman of a foreign 
 country.” 
 
 “ He is a tolerably good looking fellow, but looks extremely in- 
 solent,” was Madame Leboeufs observation. 
 
 “ Did you see his two orders ; one, of gold, and the other, of 
 silver T said the younger Godet. 
 
 “ Dear, dear, dear,” added Godet the elder, muttering between 
 his teeth, “ and I, who thought in my secret soul that, despite his 
 title of Colonel, the adventurer, the profligate, the vagabond, was 
 something like a retired bankrupt.” 
 
 “ I have an idea, gentlemen,” suddenly exclaimed Madame Le- 
 bceuf. “ Perhaps he is an actor ; I have seen some of the eques- 
 trians at the Cirque Olympique, dressed in that style..” 
 
 “ But,” rejoined Monsieur Godet, “ how could that magnificent 
 carriage belong to a troop of actors ? And besides, plays are not 
 acted in the middle of the day.” 
 
 u But, now I think of it,” said Madame Leboeuf, “ perhaps that 
 horrid man who lives with Robin of the Woods, will let you go in 
 now that his master is gone out.” 
 
 “ You are quite right, my dear madame,” replied Monsieur Godet, 
 “ you are quite right ; but under what pretence shall I introduce 
 myself into the house T 
 
 “ You have only got to say that you have come to apologise for 
 what happened yesterday,” timidly suggested Godet junior. 
 
 “ What ! apologise for his having nearly put out my eye ! Dieu- 
 donnd, you are mad. On the contrary, I shall go and complain to 
 him of the incivility he was guilty of yesterday, and that will be a 
 way of getting him into conversation. You shall see.” 
 
 When he had said this, Monsieur Godet went out and knocked at 
 the little gate. 
 
 The gloomy figure of Colonel Ulric’s servant appeared at the little 
 wicket. 
 
 “ What do you want T he enquired. 
 
 “ It was I who yesterday received ” 
 
 “ You will receive a precious deal more, if you come again,” was 
 the servant’s agreeable answer, as he hastily closed the wicket. 
 
 Monsieur Godet, sadly disappointed, returned to his fellow-con- 
 spirators, and the Cafe Leboeuf was echoing with the most extraor- 
 dinary conjectures about Colonel Ulric, when the interesting subject 
 of conversation was interrupted by the noise of a carriage, which 
 pulled up before the hotel D’Orbesson. 
 
 It was the Colonel returning ; a minute afterwards the carriage 
 which had brought him went out again at a foot’s pace. 
 
8 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Monsieur Godet pursued the vehicle, and endeavoured to get into 
 conversation with the coachman and the chasseur , but he could not 
 draw a single syllable from either ; whether it was that they did 
 not understand a word of French, or that they did not choose to 
 answer their interrogator. 
 
 Monsieur Godet and his friends concluded from this obstinate 
 silence that Colonel Ulric was waited upon by mutes, a circumstance 
 which increased, to an infinite degree, the terror already inspired by 
 this man of mystery. 
 
 Did the carriage belong to the Colonel This, also, was a ques- 
 tion impossible to decide. 
 
 The next day, the day after, and succeeding ones were spent by 
 the frequenters of the Cafe, in looking out for the carriage, which, 
 however, appeared no more. 
 
 No change seemed to have taken place in the solitary habits of 
 Robin of the Woods. The curiosity of the two Godets was still 
 more violently excited since they had discovered that the Colonel 
 was young, good looking, and no doubt, of a high standing in so- 
 ciety. They no longer showered upon him the complimentary epi- 
 thets of vagabond and adventurer ; but contented themselves with 
 calling him Robin of the Woods, which nickname appeared decidedly 
 appropriate to the mysterious existence which he led. 
 
 A new idea began to torment the brothers Godet ; they were 
 anxious to discover if the Colonel (who had never been seen to pass 
 by in the street) was in the habit of leaving his house by the door 
 which opened on the alley. 
 
 Two blackguard boys were posted as sentinels, one at each end 
 of the passage, whose apparent pursuit was a game at marbles ; but 
 who were privately instructed to watch if any one appeared at the 
 little gate. 
 
 For three days the two urchins remained conscientiously at their 
 post ; but saw no one. 
 
 The two Godets, impelled by the demon of curiosity, who was 
 destined to urge them to enterprises still more dangerous, were pa- 
 tient enough to put then selves, in their turn, in ambush for two 
 whole days, at the entrance of the alley, in order to verify the report 
 of the boys ; but they saw no one either go out or come in. 
 
 The snow had been replaced by a hard frost, so that there was no 
 way of tracing footsteps in the alley. 
 
 The frequenters of the Cafe Leboeuf at last arrived at this tri- 
 umphant conclusion, viz., that if Robin of the Woods kept at home 
 all day, he must, necessarily, go out at night. 
 
 In order to satisfy himself upon this point, the elder Godet 
 had recourse to a stratagem which the last of the Mohicans would 
 infallibly have employed for the purpose of tracking the mocassins 
 of a hostile warrior. 
 
 One very dark night, the two brothers strewed down before the 
 little garden gate, and over all the breadth of the alley, a thick 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 9 
 
 layer of ashes of equal fineneness, and then withdrew in raptures with 
 their invention. It would be impossible to describe with what 
 uneasiness and anguish of mind they hastened to the alley next 
 morning at day dawn. 
 
 At last all doubts were cleared up. Robin of the Woods did go 
 out at night, and the trace of his footsteps upon the ashes had be- 
 trayed him. 
 
 Satisfied upon this point, the two brothers had only to renew the 
 experiment, in order to discover whether the Colonel's walks took 
 place every night, and whether they were frequent, or at rare 
 intervals. 
 
 They soon became convinced that the Colonel went out every 
 night, and in all weathers. 
 
 Where could he go to h 
 
 The grounds they had already got to go upon would have been 
 sufficient to stimulate the most sluggish curiosity. 
 
 The frequenters of the Cafe Leboeuf assembled in extraordinary 
 council, and it was unanimously resolved that the two Godets, who 
 were always foremost in valour, should, on the first dark night, 
 place themselves in ambush, one at each end of the alley. 
 
 Thus dogged, the Colonel could not help passing by one or the 
 other of the two inquisitors, and the lucky one was then to follow 
 his steps with the greatest precaution, to prevent his being caught, 
 precautions by no means unnecessary, since from the manner in 
 which the elder Godet had been received when on the top of the 
 ladder, it might be reasonably inferred that Robin of the Woods 
 was not particularly anxious to initiate strangers into the pursuits 
 of his mysterious existence. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 The day after that appointed for the expedition of the two brothers, 
 Madame Leboeuf, too impatient to sleep, had got up earlier than 
 usual, and kept walking from her bar to the door, and from the door 
 back again to her bar, in a state of inexpressible uneasiness. 
 
 Had the two Godets succeeded in their enterprise ? or had they 
 run into any danger h 
 
 As the customers continued to arrive, the general curiosity in- 
 creased every moment. 
 
 One of the idlers, who had meditated the whole night upon the 
 subject, and well weighed together all that was as yet known of the 
 mysterious Colonel, had at first declared that the object of their 
 curiosity could be nothing else than a spy of high rank. 
 
 This bright idea was triumphantly refuted by one of the listeners, 
 
10 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 who made the sagacious observation, that as Robin of the Woods 
 never went out, as far as could be judged, except at night, it 
 would be rather difficult for him to exercise that honourable 
 calling. 
 
 The other, who was an obstinate fellow, replied to this objection 
 that the Colonel only did that in order to guard against any sus- 
 picion, a suspicion which only rendered his espionnage still more 
 dangerous. 
 
 Notwithstanding the interest excited by this discussion, the two 
 brothers were by no means forgotten ; every body was astonished 
 at their long absence, as it was already twelve o'clock, and yet nei- 
 ther the one nor the other had appeared. 
 
 Madame Leboeuf, who well remembered the history of the elder 
 Godet’s peppering by the charge of dust shot, and who began to be 
 fearful that something equally, or still more tragical, had occurred, 
 was just about to send the waiter to make enquiries, when the two 
 Godets made their appearance. 
 
 The brothers were received with a general exclamation of 
 curiosity, “ Well, well, tell us all about it.” 
 
 “ Well,” said the elder Godet with a most gloomy expression of 
 countenance, “ we have found out a nice kettle of fish.” 
 
 It was then, for the first time, only perceived that the two bro- 
 thers were as pale as death. Was this paleness to be attributed to 
 the fatigues of the preceding night, or to the reaction after some 
 great danger % We shall learn this from the history told by the 
 elder Godet. 
 
 The frequenters of the Cafe formed a circle round him, and he 
 thus began — 
 
 “ I need not tell you, gentlemen, that, having courageously de- 
 voted my existence to the clearing up of that dark mystery, which, 
 I make bold to say, is a matter that deeply concerns all honest 
 people 
 
 “ If there is no need of telling us, why the devil do you say 
 anything about it ?” wisely observed one of the audience. 
 
 “ What do you mean T rejoined Monsieur Godet. 
 
 “ Why,” replied the other, “ you first of all exclaim, ‘ I need 
 not tell you, gentlemen,’ and then you go on telling us just 
 the same.” 
 
 “ Never mind, never mind,” was exclaimed on all sides. “ You 
 are always talking nonsense, Monsieur Dumont. Go on Monsieur 
 Godet ; we are listening to you with all our ears.” 
 
 “ Well, then,” continued Godet, “ yesterday, at nightfal, I and 
 my brother here, Dieudonne, placed ourselves in ambush, one at each 
 end of the alley, fully determined to get at the bottom of the dark 
 mystery aforesaid. The parish clock struck seven — nothing — eight 
 — nothing — nine — nothing — ten — nothing — eleven — ” 
 
 “ What courage, to wait so long in the cold,” exclaimed the ad- 
 miring audience. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 11 
 
 “ How you must have longed for a bowl of hot wine !” murmured 
 Madame Leboeuf. 
 
 “ I was not surprised,” continued Monsieur Godet, in a doctoral 
 tone of voice, “ I was not surprised at this delay ; on the contrary, 
 I rather expected it. I had said to myself, ‘ Godet, if anything is to 
 happen, I forewarn thee that it will happen about midnight, for 
 that is generally the hour when criminal enterprises are’ — but I will 
 not anticipate. Twelve, then, had just struck, when I distinctly 
 heard crick, crack, and the lock of the little gate was opened.” 
 
 “ Ah ! at last !” exclaimed the audience. 
 
 “ How your heart must have beat, Monsieur Godet,” observed 
 the landlady ; I should have fainted." 
 
 “ Nature, my dear Madame Leboeuf, having conferred upon me 
 the gift of courage, which, indeed, is the attribute of every French- 
 man ; I buttoned my coat well up, and prepared to follow my man. 
 I must confess, however, that my forehead was all over a cold per- 
 spiration, an effect which I attributed to the influence of the atmos- 
 phere. I heard Robin of the Woods — but no — he is not even 
 worthy of that name now ; but he shall be called in future by a 
 name which he has well deserved, and which is one a thousand 
 times more awful. But I will not anticipate. I heard, then, Robin 
 of the Woods approaching on my side, with a most peculiar and 
 terrible step — a step, I might almost call tormented by remorse. 
 My very breath stood still ; I drew myself into the smallest possible 
 compass against the wall, and it was so dark, he did not see me ; 
 he passed me at last, and I then followed his steps with, if I may 
 use the expression, with the tenacity of a staunch hound after his 
 game. In the mean while, Dieudonne who had heard him ap- 
 proaching on my side, ran up, and we both pursued our man, or 
 rather our — but I will not anticipate. On, on, on we go. Heavens ! 
 how engrossed by his remorse must that wretch have been, not to 
 perceive that we were at his heels !” 
 
 “ It is enough to make one’s hair stand upright,” said the Widow, 
 u when I think that he might have seen you.” 
 
 “ Had such been the case, Madame, I had an answer all ready, an 
 answer which I had carefully prepared, in the anticipation of a col- 
 lision between us.” 
 
 “ And what was the answer T 
 
 “ A very simple one — the street belongs to every body,” replied 
 Monsieur Godet, with the look of a hero. 
 
 “ How was he dressed ?” enquired Madame Leboeuf. 
 
 “ As far as I could judge, he had on a black cloak, and a large 
 hat. At last, after innumerable turnings and twistings, we ar- 
 rived — where, do you think 1 I would defy you to guess in 
 a year.” 
 
 “ We all give it up !” exclaimed, with one voice, the frequenters 
 of the Caf 6. 
 
12 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 “ Pray, Monsieur Godet, have compassion upon us,” said Madame 
 Leboeuf. 
 
 The worthy man having enjoyed, for an instant, the general 
 impatience, continued at last in a sepulchral tone of voice — 
 
 “ W e arrived — Oh ! gentlemen” — 
 
 “ Go on, go on," was vociferated from all quarters. 
 
 “ We arrived at the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise.” 
 
 “ At the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise ! ! !” repeated the audience, 
 in accents of horror and dismay. 
 
 Madame Leboeuf was so overcome, that she found a glass of rum 
 necessary to restore her to herself. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, what could he go to the cemetery for, at 
 that time of night ?” exclaimed the Widow, as soon as she had dis- 
 posed of the rum. 
 
 “ You will soon know, gentlemen, you will know too soon,” con- 
 tinued the narrator. “ We arrived at the gate of the cemetery. 
 The gate was locked, of course, as it very properly ought to be, in 
 that field of repose, so that nothing should disturb the rest of the 
 departed. Then our man — I mean the man, for I disown all com- 
 munity of nature or feelings with such a monster — the man who 
 was, doubtless, provided with a false key, a jemmy, a centre-bit, or 
 some other instrument of iniquity, familiar to rascals like him — the 
 man, I repeat opened the gate, and closed it after him.” 
 
 “ Then, what became of you V enquired Madame Leboeuf. 
 
 “ I and Dieudonn6 had the courage to wait for this abominable, 
 sacrilegious wretch till four o’clock in the morning. During that 
 time he was, doubtless, occupied in some abominable and profane 
 orgies, like those you may remember in the famous melo drama, 
 called e The Vampire.’’ ” 
 
 “ A vampire !” exclaimed Madame Leboeuf. “ Do you still be- 
 lieve in vampires ? Can it be possible that our opposite neighbour 
 is a vampire — a real vampire ? oh ! how horridly delightful !” 
 
 “ Thank God, my dear Madame Leboeuf, I am not sufficiently su- 
 perstitious to believe in those monstrous vampires which are repre- 
 sented in the melodrama ; but I do not believe that people sneak 
 into cemeteries, in the dead of the night, without some barbarous 
 and unnatural motive, which induces me — till I am better informed 
 — to change the name of Robin of the Woods, for that of the 
 Vampire. And with reference to this, I feel it my duty to declare 
 openly, that he who does not respect the repose of the grave, will, 
 sooner or later, become a tenant of the tomb himself, for,” philo- 
 sophically added Monsieur Godet, “ the arm of Providence always 
 reaches the guilty.” 
 
 “ What you say is simple enough, for every body dies, sooner or 
 later,” muttered the worthy who had already criticised Monsieur 
 Godet so unmercifully. 
 
 Godet, with a look of anger at the critic, concluded with 
 these words — 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 13 
 
 u When the man, whom I have no hesitation in calling a vampire, 
 left the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, we followed him as closely as 
 before ; firstly, because he was going our road, and in the next 
 place, because in case of any awkward adventure on the way, three 
 persons would be safer than two. At last the vampire got back to 
 his starting-place, and went through the alley into his house, or 
 rather I ought to say, into his den, whence he will, doubtless, to- 
 night again set forth, in order to continue his work of dark and 
 mysterious horrors.” 
 
 Monsieur Godet’s story did not completely satisfy his audience. 
 
 This visit to the cemetery, with the addition of the Colonel’s 
 brilliant appearance in so magnificent a carriage, served as a fresh 
 theme for the interminable conjectures of the frequenters of the 
 Cafd, and the general curiosity was more than ever inflamed. 
 
 None of them, indeed, with the exception of the Widow, believed 
 positively in vampires ; but still the Colonel’s conduct was extraor- 
 dinary enough to give rise to the most fantastical ideas. 
 
 The discussion, when at its height, was interrupted by the en- 
 trance of the postman who brought a letter for Madame Leboeuf, 
 and the widow, as the day was bitterly cold, very considerately 
 poured him out a glass of brandy, as a recompense for his trouble. 
 This good action immediately met with its reward. 
 
 The postman took out of his box a tolerably large letter, sealed 
 with a large, black seal, and observed to the widow — 
 
 “ The neighbour opposite is a precious bad customer of mine ; for 
 he has not had a single letter these three months ; however, he has 
 got one this morning, worth a dozen single ones. Well, well,” added 
 the man of letters with a self-complacent facetiousness, “ it seems 
 that Colonel Ulric likes big slices better than little crumbs.” 
 
 “ Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! a letter for the vampire !” exclaimed 
 Madame Leboeuf, who had seized the epistle, and held it over her 
 head with an air of triumph. 
 
 The customers hurried up and formed a circle round the bar. 
 
 “ Oh ! Madame, Madame,” cried the postman, who, dreading his 
 confidence had been abused, eagerly stretched out his hand to re- 
 cover his letter. 
 
 “ Don’t be afraid, my good fellow ; we will do no harm to the 
 letter ; let us only just have a peep at the address,” was the widow’s 
 answer, t<!> the postman’s appeal. 
 
 “ Only just a peep,” added Monsieur Godet, and seizing the letter 
 with a hand actually trembling from emotion, he laid it down gin- 
 gerly upon the marble slab of the bar. 
 
 “ Have another glass of brandy, my good fellow,” said the widow, 
 to the postman ; “ five minutes sooner or later is of no consequence ; 
 you need not be in such a hurry to deliver this letter.” 
 
 The postman drank a second glass of brandy, but without taking 
 his eyes off the letter. 
 
 “ Let us see, let us see,” said the widow, “ what is the address ?” 
 
14 
 
 THE ORPHAN - . 
 
 and she read it out — M. le Colonel Ulric, 38, Rue, St. Louis, 
 Paris. 
 
 “ What is the seal ? is it a coat of arms ?” was asked by one of 
 the inquisitors. 
 
 “ No ; merely a dotted lozenge.” 
 
 “ What is the postmark T enquired another of the spies. 
 
 “ The Paris one,” answered the postman, u time, twelve o’clock, 
 and a franc’s postage to pay, I should say, from the weight ; but, 
 come, Madame Leboeuf, I am sure you must have seen enough of 
 that letter by this time. 
 
 “ Wait just a minute, my good fellow ; how red your nose is 
 to-day ; have another glass of brandy, the cold is intolerable,” was 
 the widow’s caressing reply. 
 
 “ No, thank you ; no, thank you, Madame Leboeuf,” said the 
 postman ; “ make haste with that letter.” 
 
 Godet and the other customers contemplated the envelope with 
 an eagerness that had something in it almost of ferocity ; and they 
 examined, with the greatest attention, the thick, blueish, glazed 
 paper, and the fine and delicate hand-writing. 
 
 Suddenly the widow clapped her flat nose to the letter, and ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 “ Oh ! how it smells of musk ; what a horrid smell !” 
 
 Now, truth obliges us to declare that the perfume, which so dis- 
 composed the nose of Madame Leboeuf, had not the slightest affinity 
 to musk : but to the noses of some people there is no perfume but 
 musk ; and musk, we know, has been handed down by tradition, as a 
 most abominable scent. 
 
 All the customers of the Cafe Leboeuf alternately clapped their 
 noses to the letter, and there was one general exclamation, “ How it 
 stinks of musk !” 
 
 “ It is a woman’s letter !” suddenly exclaimed Monsieur Godet, 
 with the inspired air of a prophet, “ and a woman, too, who uses 
 perfumes.” 
 
 “ Pouah,” sneered the Widow Leboeuf with a pout of supreme 
 disdain. 
 
 “ And a woman, too,” observed another of the idlers, “ who does 
 not prepay a letter of such moment — a letter for which a franc’s 
 postage is charged.” 
 
 “ It is plain enough,” continued Madame Leboeuf, shrugging her 
 shoulders, “ that she can be no great things ; doubtless, some good 
 for nothing wretch — a creature who uses perfumes, and who has not 
 got money enough to pay the postage of her letters.” 
 
 “ Stop a bit ! stop a bit !” said Monsieur Godet, who seemed lost 
 in reflection, “ this small, fine, neat, hand-writing — the number put 
 before the street — yes, yes, I have it ; this letter comes from an 
 English woman.” 
 
 “ What could an English woman who used perfumes have to do 
 with a handsome foreign Colonel, who kept at home all day, and 
 prowled about cemeteries all night ?” 
 


 
 
 
 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 13 
 
 Such was the summary of the questions which the knot of inqui- 
 sitors asked themselves. 
 
 Their heads were all bent over the fatal letter, and their eyes 
 sparkled with concupiscence. 
 
 Truly one might affirm, without calumniating human nature, that 
 had it been in the power of the Cafe inquisitives, at that instant, to 
 have drowned, by their unanimous volition, the unlucky postman, 
 in order to possess themselves of the precious epistle, the red-collared 
 messenger would have been in considerable peril. 
 
 The widow could bear it no longer ; she boldly lifted up a 
 corner of the envelope, and endeavoured to see something of the 
 contents. 
 
 The postman rushed forward and seized his letter, exclaiming, 
 that for such a violation of confidence, he should lose his place, and 
 be sent to prison into the bargain. 
 
 The widow, on her part, carried away beyond all bounds, by 
 the demon of curiosity that possessed her, would not leave her 
 hold of the letter, and the envelope would have been torn in the 
 desperate struggle, had not one of the inquisitives suddenly ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 “ Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! here’s a fresh start — a woman — a real 
 flesh and blood woman, who appears to be looking for the number 
 of the vampire’s den.” 
 
 The effect of these words was magical. 
 
 The widow resigned the letter, which was already rumpled, and 
 clapped her broad face close to the window, the panes of which 
 were streaked like marble from the effects of the frost. The post- 
 man hurried away, delighted to have escaped from such a murderous 
 ambuscade. Madame Leboeuf slightly scratched away, with her 
 nail, sufficient of the frozen mist from one of the panes, to enable 
 her to get a glimpse into the street, and her eyes were soon most 
 attentively employed. 
 
 “ Gentlemen,” observed Monsieur Godet, “ we must not let our- 
 selves be seen for fear of scaring yonder woman ; let us follow the 
 example of our dear hostess, each look through our own peculiar 
 hole and — motus. Once at their different posts, the inquisitives 
 were amply repaid for their past three months of dreary antici- 
 pation ; important events seemed to tread upon the heels of one an- 
 other on that memorable day. 
 
 The postman knocked and delivered the letter to the Colonel’s 
 servant, who examined the envelope with a suspicious air not alto- 
 gether devoid of irritation. 
 
 Scarcely had the postman disappeared, when the female, whose 
 approach had been telegraphed by the inquisitives, came up to the 
 great gate of the mansion ; but finding no knocker, she directed her 
 steps to the little door of the left hand office. 
 
 She appeared to be a person somewhat advanced in years, was 
 remarkable by her troubled and agitated manner, and had on a 
 
1G 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 black bonnet and a brown cloak, under which she seemed to carry 
 something concealed. 
 
 After having rung at the little door, instead of waiting for it to 
 be opened, she began to walk backwards and forwards, probably 
 with the view of being less noticed. 
 
 When the Colonel’s servant made his appearance, the elderly 
 female gave into his hand a little tortoiseshell casket, inlaid with gold. 
 She then disappeared, after having made an evidently preconcerted 
 signal to some third person, whom the inquisitives of the Cafe Le- 
 boeuf were, as yet, unable to see. 
 
 The servant looked for an instant at the casket with surprise, 
 and then closed the door. 
 
 Monsieur Godet, the widow, and their fellow conspirators stood 
 with breath suspended behind their respective window panes, and 
 awaited with unspeakable impatience the appearance of the in- 
 visible person. 
 
 That person at last appeared. 
 
 It was a young woman, whose age might be five and twenty years. 
 Her dress was simplicity itself, consisting of a small, black velvet 
 bonnet, a morning gown of very deep carmelite gros de Naples, and a 
 large, black, cashmere shawl, which came down to the flounces of the 
 dress ; her hands were concealed in a marten muff, which just allowed 
 to peep out the corner of a pokcet-handkerchief, richly trimmed with 
 Valenciennes lace. To complete the picture, the prettiest little feet 
 you can conceive, seemed to tremble with the cold in their small, 
 delicate, black, satin boots. 
 
 At first sight, this young person, whose beauty was remarkable, 
 struck your attention by the contrast which existed between her 
 magnificent fair hair, and her large, black eyes, and strongly marked 
 eye-brows, which were also black. Her cheeks were half concealed 
 by some long and thick ringlets, kept in their position by the pres- 
 sure of her bonnet ; she was extremely pale in spite of the excessive 
 cold, which one should have thought would have given colour to her 
 complexion, and terror was imprinted on every feature of her 
 countenance. 
 
 Twice she raised, towards Heaven, her eyes, bathed in tears, and 
 when she had rejoined the person who was waiting for her, she wore 
 a melancholy smile upon her lips, which displayed a row of teeth of 
 the most lovely enamel. 
 
 She quickened her pace as she passed the door of the Cafir? 
 Leboeuf. 
 
 Monsieur Godet could hold out no longer ; he peeped through 
 the door, held slightly a-jar, and beheld the two females going up 
 to a small, blue hackney coach, with red blinds, which they had left 
 at the corner of the Rue St. Louis. 
 
 They got into the carriage, and set off with the blinds still 
 down. 
 
 “ Well,” said Monsieur Godet, folding his arms, and shaking his 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 17 
 
 head with a most triumphant air, “ well, here's something new at 
 all events.” 
 
 And the inquisitives began to recapitulate all the momentous 
 events which had succeeded one another since the morning — 
 
 1st. The letter, which smelt of musk. 
 
 2nd. The old, bewildered-looking woman who brought the tor- 
 toise shell casket, inlaid with gold. 
 
 “ Thirdly, and last,” added the widow Leboeuf, “ the young 
 woman who snivelled as she went by the gate of Robin of the Woods, 
 alias the Vampire.” 
 
 “ Hang me if she was not a pretty creature,” observed Monsieur 
 Godet. 
 
 “ Do you call her pretty ?” rejoined the widow, bridling up ; “ why 
 she has not a bit of graceful carriage about her.” 
 
 “ I’d lay a wager,” exclaimed Godet after a few minutes’ reflec- 
 tion, “ that she’s the woman who uses scents, and does not pay the 
 postage of her letters.” 
 
 “ The English woman ! Pshaw, Monsieur Godet,” replied the 
 widow, shrugging her shoulders with an air of contemptuous supe- 
 riority, “ you cannot have seen her style of dress. That an English- 
 woman ! nonsense ; there is nothing more easy to recognise than an 
 Englishwoman ; you have only to look at her dress ; it is simple 
 enough in all conscience. A straw bonnet all the year through ; a 
 pink spencer ; a Scotch plaid petticoat, and bright green, or lemon- 
 coloured boots ; you may see the costume any day, in Les Anglaises 
 pour rire, at the Varietes. We all know that it is an old vaude- 
 ville, and it would not be publicly acted, unless it were authentic. 
 I repeat it once more, ever since this world has been a world, Eng- 
 lishwomen, real, genuine Englishwomen, have never been differently 
 dressed.” 
 
 Unfortunately Madame Leboeuf ’s observations and maxims upon 
 the monography of Englishwomen were interrupted by the abrupt 
 entrance of two strangers. 
 
 The inquisitives stared with increased curiosity at these two new 
 comers, who were evidently as much out of their element in the 
 Marais, as the charming young female, whose portrait we just now 
 sketched. 
 
 o— 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 INVESTIGATIONS. 
 
 The two strangers were both young, and elegantly dressed. Al- 
 though the cold was intense, neither of them was disfigured by one 
 of those abominable sacks, so clumsy an imitation of the English 
 c 
 
18 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 sailor’s pea jacket, and which have been christened paletots by the 
 French tailors. 
 
 The younger of the two gentlemen was fair, slender, and of pleas- 
 ing appearance. He wore over his other clothes, a white, wadded, 
 full cut great coat. The bow of his black satin cravat was fastened 
 by a small turquoise pin ; his trowsers were light blue, fitted him 
 closely, and descended gracefully upon a brilliantly polished boot. 
 
 The other stranger was a dark, older man, and of fashionable ap- 
 pearance ; like his companion, he wore a bronze-coloured frock coat 
 with velvet collar, and facings of the same shade, but what the 
 tailors call ecrase. His trowsers were light grey, and not long 
 enough to hide a remarkably well formed foot in a laced boot of 
 black casimir ; a fancy cravat, reddish, with large white stripes, set 
 off marvellously well, his dark complexion and hair. 
 
 We have entered into these somewhat trivial details, because they 
 will account for the eager and almost savage curiosity with which 
 the two strangers were examined by the frequenters of the Cafe 
 Leboeuf. 
 
 The younger of the two, who, as we have before said, was fair and 
 of most distinguished appearance, seemed to be under the influence 
 of some strong emotion. 
 
 He took off his hat on coming in, sat down with an air almost of 
 dejection, at one of the tables in the Cafe, and leaned his head be- 
 tween his two hands, which, by the bye, were covered with a pair of 
 irreproachable gloves of peau de Suede. 
 
 “ Deuce take it,” said his friend (whom we will call Alfred) 
 “ deuce take it, Gaston, pray compose yourself ; you must have 
 made a mistake ; it could not have been her.” 
 
 “ Not her !” replied Gaston, lifting up his head with an impatient 
 movement, and smiling bitterly. “ Not her ! What ! do you 
 maintain that I am mistaken, when, even at a masked ball, I should 
 recognise her among a thousand women, merely by her walk, merely 
 by that inexplicable something, which belongs to her alone r l Non- 
 sense, Alfred, you treat me like a child ! I repeat it, I saw her get 
 out of her carriage, and into a hackney coach, a little blue hackney 
 coach, with red blinds, and that confounded Madame Blondeau was" 
 with her, and carried the casket.” 
 
 On hearing these words, which the young man had spoken in a 
 tolerably loud voice, the frequenters of the Cafe Leboeuf were unable 
 to restrain a thrill of joy. 
 
 Monsieur Godet said, in a low voice, to his fellow conspirators— 
 
 “ Do you hear that ? The casket ! the casket ! He is, no doubt, 
 talking of the one which the old woman took to the Vampire’s ser- 
 vant just now. Bravo ! the plot thickens ; it is becoming quite 
 interesting ; let us be all ears. Give me a newspaper ; I will manage 
 to sneak skilfully near these two getlemen, who, in my opinion, are 
 gallants of the first water.” 
 
 Thus speaking, he approached the table at which the two young 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 19 
 
 men were conversing; who, however, becoming aware that they were 
 objects of attention, and annoyed at Monsieur Godet’s proximity, 
 continued their conversation, in English, to the great disappoint- 
 ment of the inquisitives. 
 
 “ But what was this casket ?” asked Alfred. 
 
 “ A casket which she had made me a present of, and which my 
 servant has been fool enough to give up to this Madame Blondeau, 
 thinking that the old lady had been sent by me.” This morning, 
 on my return home, Pierre told me this pretty performance of his ; 
 I was so astonished, that I hastened to her house, but she was gone 
 out. I then met you on the Pont-Boyal, before the 'pavilion de Flore , 
 and while we were talking, I saw her, as plainly as I see you at 
 this moment, get into a little, blue hackney coach, with Madame 
 Blondeau, on the other side of the bridge. The coach set off ; we 
 had just time to cross the bridge ; while you watched the direction 
 the carriage was taking, I hurried off to the rue dn Bac for a hack 
 cab ; I brought it up to you ; we got in, and pursued the little 
 hackney coach as far as the entrance of the rue du Temple. We 
 have explored every street for the last hour ; but have failed in 
 lighting once more upon the little hackney coach.” 
 
 “ But what the deuce do you think can have brought her to such 
 a wilderness as this Marais % You told me yourself, that she does 
 not know a soul here. Come, come, I again repeat you have made 
 a mistake. Well, well, have it your own way,” said Alfred, who ob- 
 served a fresh movement of impatience on the part of his friend ; 
 no doubt it was her you saw ; but, even then, between ourselves I 
 cannot understand your ill humour and uneasiness. It was only 
 yesterday that you told me yourself, that you were desirous of 
 
 breaking off this connection, in short, that your marriage ” 
 
 “ Of course I was desirous of breaking it off ; and for the last two 
 months I have secretly been paving the way for a separation ; but 
 I had a thousand reasons to act with delicacy, and it is odious to be 
 thus anticipated. That casket contained her letters, and I am 
 miserable at being deprived of it. It is a part of my system never 
 to give back women’s letters ; one never knows what may happen.” 
 
 “ But how came Pierre then, to part with the casket ?” 
 
 “ Why, because that infernal Blondeau came as if from me to ask 
 him for it, telling him that I was at her Mistress’s house. Pierre, 
 who had seen the Blondeau come a hundred times with letters, or 
 on some confidential mission, had of course no reasons for distrust- 
 ing her, and believed the story she told.” 
 
 “ She, of course was aware that her letters were in the casket ?” 
 
 “ Certainly ; for she had herself given me the casket to keep 
 them in. I had the key of it, and knew the secret drawer, and I 
 always kept it in my bed-room, but not locked up, as I have full 
 confidence in Pierre. 
 
 “ But my dear Gaston, when I reflect, it apppears inexplicable 
 that, instead of quietly keeping the casket at her own house, she 
 c 3 
 
20 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 she should thus have conveyed it, God knows where.” 
 
 “ She was afraid to keep it.” 
 
 “ She afraid ! I hope it was not her husband’s jealousy that 
 frightened her,” said Alfred, who could not repress a smile. 
 
 “ I cannot tell you any more,” answered Gaston who appeared 
 suddenly much embarrassed, and coloured up to the eyes. “ How- 
 ever, she has reasons for thinking that the casket would be much 
 more secure any where else than in her own house.” 
 
 Alfred looked at Gaston with astonishment, and answered — 
 
 “ That alters the case ; of course I believe you, but let the worst 
 come to the worst, it is only, after all, an involuntary return of her 
 letters, and I do not see ” 
 
 “ No, you do not know all ; on those letters of hers there were 
 written annotations of my own and another woman’s, a kind of 
 running commentary on my connection with her. Yes, I confess 
 it, it was a kind of braggadocio, an exaggerated parody of the roues 
 of the Regency, remarkable alike for brutality and bad taste ; I am 
 disgusted at it myself now, and could curse my own folly, in having 
 given way to such coarse absurdity ; for if she chooses, and I confess 
 I have treated her sufficiently ill, to justify her in so doing, she has 
 it in her power to do me an irreparable mischief. I am well ac- 
 quainted with her powers of mind and firmness of purpose ; and 
 you yourself know the immense influence she exercises in the world. 
 Alas ! Alfred, with all my pretensions to tact and cleverness, 
 I have acted like a schoolboy, or a fool ; and I am now at her 
 mercy !” 
 
 “ Calm yourself, my dear Gaston. It is quite sufficient to wait 
 for repentance, without hurrying to meet it half way. Do not ex- 
 aggerate your difficulties ; you may have acted ill towards her, but 
 that is not the point at at issue. The question is, if this fault of 
 yours can prove injurious to yourself, and for my part, I think not. 
 She is esteemed generous and proud ; in former days you yourself 
 was never weary of extolling the good qualities of her heart, and 
 you always maintained that she was incapable of a treacherous or 
 malicious action.” 
 
 “ And what of that ? You know as well as I do, that it is pre- 
 cisely characters like hers, which sometimes suffer the most acutely 
 under, are most bitterly irritated by, and revenge themselves most 
 cruelly for conduct so perfidious as mine. For two years she has 
 never given me a cause for complaint, and yet I have often afforded 
 her well grounded motives of jealousy ; hers is one of those stub- 
 born natures which ever receive you with a smile, and would die 
 sooner than you should discover the tears they have swallowed down. 
 This is, certainly, irritating to one’s vanity ; but except this, I 
 have no reproaches to make her. If you had not set before me the 
 advantages of this marriage, which will put me in possession of 
 one hundred and fifty thousand francs per annum, besides expecta- 
 tions, I should most decidedly have continued the liaison, if not 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 21 
 
 from the extreme pleasure it afforded me, at least because it had 
 grown into an agreeable habitude ; and, after all, there was nothing 
 troublesome in our intercourse ; I found it very convenient, and 
 we know what we leave, but do not know what we are going 
 to take.” 
 
 “ That is all very well, my dear Gaston ; you reason marvellously ; 
 yours is the very quintessence of egotism, and all your conduct hi- 
 therto has exhaled a most adorable odour of selfishness. Do not, 
 then, be led away by terrors which have no foundation ; you were 
 desirous of breaking off the liaison ; well, this rape of the casket is 
 a flagrant casus belli. As to the annotations , as you call them, 
 which she will find upon her letters, a woman of her station — a 
 woman who has so much self-respect as she has, would never, for the 
 sake of revenge, run the risk of ruining herself and of making it 
 
 appear that she had been sacrificed to some upon my word, I 
 
 neither ask nor care to whom. Once for all, my good friend, take 
 my word for it, all this could not have happened better. God bless 
 my soul !” he continued after a moment’s silence, and as if struck by 
 a sudden idea, perhaps she merely drove to the bank of the river, 
 in order to make a present to the fishes of the unlucky casket.” 
 
 “ What nonsense, Alfred; she might, if that was all, have quietly 
 burned the letters at her own house, and said nothing more about 
 it. Once for all, she is keeping them for some mischievous 
 purpose.” 
 
 Mischief, indeed !” replied Alfred, shrugging his shoulders im- 
 patiently,” “ why what would these letters prove, after all 1 That 
 you have treated her ill — that you have sacrificed her 1 Well, and 
 who the devil ever takes the part of a woman that has been sacri- 
 ficed 1 You may subject a woman to the most odious ill usage, you 
 may publicly treat her with the most atrocious brutality, and then 
 her own intimate friends will cry out upon the house tops, that the 
 wretch has only got what she deserved ; and moreover, other men 
 will envy your brutal insolence without the courage to imitate it, 
 just as a petty pick-pocket admires an assassin”. 
 
 “ I tell you,” rejoined Gaston, “ that you do not know her” 
 
 Observing the paleness and agitation of his friend, Alfred said, 
 and this time in French — 
 
 “ Come, Gaston, compose yourself ; remember we entered this 
 abominable pot-house to rest ourselves for a minute or two, and to 
 get a glass of water.” 
 
 “ You are right,” answered Gaston, looking round him ; “ but 
 everything here looks so dirty, that I doubt our being able to pro- 
 cure even a glass of tolerable water.” 
 
 This impertinent observation increased the anger of Madame 
 Leboeuf and her customers, who were already much incensed at not 
 being able to take a part in the conversation of the strangers, which 
 had been carried on in English. 
 
 “ A glass of eau sucree , Madame, if you please,” said Gaston to 
 the widow. 
 
2’2 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Madame Leboeuf, without answering, majestically put her hand 
 to a broken bell, and cried out in a shrill voice — 
 
 “ Boitard, Boitard, a glass of eau sucree .” 
 
 “ What a horrid smell of frying-pans,” observed Gaston, putting 
 his hand to his forehead, “ my very brain seems on fire.” 
 
 “ Not to mention,” added Alfred with a look of disgust, “ a cer- 
 tain indescribable musty smell of old fellows, which makes the air 
 actually pestiferous.” 
 
 “ Madame, I asked for a glass of water,” said Gaston, in an im- 
 patient tone. 
 
 “ Well, sir, and I think I rang pretty loudly for Boitard, to bring 
 it,” was the widow’s sulky answer as she again tinkled the bell. 
 
 “ After all, Gaston, Madame is right ; she did ring for Boitard,” 
 said Alfred, looking as serious as a judge ; u for heaven’s sake do 
 have a little patience. But as I am rather distrustful of the pleasure 
 Boitard’s presence will confer, I shall, by way of precaution, take the 
 liberty of lighting: a cigar.” 
 
 Accordingly, Alfred drew a cigar from a Lima straw case, took a 
 fusee from a little silver inlaid box, and began to smoke. 
 
 The frequenters of the Cafe exchanged looks of stupefaction, and 
 did not know in what light to regard so novel and audacious a pro- 
 ceeding. Some of them coughed ; others cleared their throats with 
 an energetic kind of a-hem , and had it not been for the curiosity 
 excited by the strangers, who seemed to be somehow or other con- 
 cerned in the casket given to the Vampire’s servant, no doubt, the 
 widow and her party would have loudly protested against such tap- 
 room behaviour. 
 
 At this moment, Boitard, the chubby cheeked waiter, made his 
 appearance, with his shirt-sleeves tucked up, for to him the dog-days 
 lasted all the year through. 
 
 He carried, upon a worn out tea-board, a decanter, a glass about 
 two inches thick, and five pieces of sugar, in a cracked saucer. 
 
 While Gaston appeared plunged in deep meditations, Alfred, with 
 his two hands in his pockets, was examining the glass of water with 
 a half distrustful, half disgusted air, and suddenly exclaimed — 
 
 “ Why, my good Boitard, there is a spider in your decanter ; that 
 is more than we asked for. We are in a great hurry, and merely 
 wish for a plain glass of water, minus spiders, if possible.” 
 
 Boitard scratched his head with his great mutton hand, atten- 
 tively examined the decanter, and discovered that the spider was 
 effectually there. 
 
 Instead of being overcome by this abominable discovery, he half 
 turned round towards the widow and her party, and shrugged his 
 shoulders, a motion which appeared to signify, “ Upon my word this 
 is a pretty delicate sort of chap, to care about a spider,” to which 
 the widow and the inquisitives replied by another pantomime, in- 
 • ended to imply, “ Oh ! for heaven’s sake, Boitard, don’t mention 
 it ; what pitiable affectation !” 
 
 Then Boitard having indulged in another shrug, took the de- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 23 
 
 canter in one hand, and thrusting his great, filthy fingers down the 
 neck, commenced a novel style of fishing. 
 
 His piscatorial proceedings were completely successful. Boitard 
 drew out the spider, took it delicately between his thumb and fore 
 finger, and crushed it with his foot ; he then, with admirable sang 
 froidy replaced the decanter upon the table, and said to Alfred, as if 
 he were reproving a spoilt child for some foolish whim — 
 
 “ Well, sir, I hope you will confess that there are no spiders in 
 the water now.” 
 
 Alfred had contemplated Boitard’s proceedings with profound ad- 
 miration, and thought his last speech actually sublime. He put a 
 five franc piece into the waiter’s hand, saying to him — 
 
 “ That is for you, Boitard ; perfection in anything deserves a 
 reward, and in your peculiar department, my good fellow, you are a 
 magnificent specimen of dirt.” 
 
 Boitard stared with stupefaction at Alfred, the money, the widow, 
 and the customers, in turn. 
 
 Gaston, still immersed in his reflections, muttered to himself, 
 “ What shall I do — what shall I do ? Where the devil has that 
 casket got to by this time ?” And he mechanically extended his 
 hand towards the decanter. 
 
 “ Deuce take it, don’t touch that, Gaston,” said Alfred ; and he 
 described the spider-fishing to his friend. 
 
 Gaston pushed back the board with horror, and impatiently 
 exclaimed — 
 
 iC One cannot even drink a glass of water when one’s very head 
 and throat are on fire. Come along, Alfred, let us see if we can’t 
 find some place that is a little less disgusting.” 
 
 The widow’s wrath boiled over at these words, and she indig- 
 nantly exclaimed, addressing herself to Alfred — 
 
 “ In the first place, sir, I beg you to understand that people don’t 
 smoke here as they do in a public-house ; and next, I wish to inform 
 you, in spite of your jeering looks, that if you don’t choose to drink, 
 what you are served with here, you have no business to attempt 
 making other people as particular as yourself.” 
 
 Alfred answered with profound gravity — 
 
 u Be assured, my dear Madame, that I have not, in this instance, 
 abused any influence I may possess over my friend ; and I solemnly 
 declare to you that when he follows his own inclination, he never 
 eats spiders." 
 
 “ Come along,” said Gaston, throwing a louis upon the bar ; “ the 
 woman is mad.” 
 
 The widow contemptuously pushed back the piece of gold, ex- 
 claiming, “ that in her establishment people only paid for what they 
 had consumed .” 
 
 “ I have already paid the rascal for his spider, observed Alfred 
 to Gaston ; the latter pocketed his louis, and the two young men 
 left the Caf§. 
 
24 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Scarcely had they closed the Cafe door, when Monsieur Godet, 
 bareheaded, in spite of the cold, set off after them. 
 
 “ Will you have your hat Monsieur Godet ?” said the widow, who 
 guessed the intentions of her customer. 
 
 “ I don’t want my hat,” answered Godet ; “ I’ll very soon bring 
 you back these fine sparks bound hand and foot, and as tractable 
 as lambs.” 
 
 A couple of strides brought him up to the young men, and he 
 gently touched Alfred’s sleeve who inspired him with more confi- 
 dence than the other. 
 
 “ What do you want, sir” ? enquired Alfred, astonished at Godet’s 
 grotesque figure. 
 
 “ I want, sir, to render you an immense service, if I am able to do 
 so, as one good citizen always ought to do to another ; and I pro- 
 pose to you to make a league among us against the common enemy, 
 which common enemy aforesaid happens at this moment to be Robin 
 of the Woods alias the Vampire”. 
 
 Gaston and Alfred stared at Monsieur Godet, without compre- 
 hending a single syllable of this strange gibberish. 
 
 At last Gaston said to his friend — 
 
 “ Come along Alfred ; dont you see all these people are mad V ’ 
 
 “ This one looks too great a fool to be mad,” was Alfred’s 
 reply. 
 
 Monsieur Godet, fearing that his prey would escape him, took no 
 notice of these observations, and continued as fast as he could, and 
 with an air of mystery — 
 
 “ I know' all about it ; you are looking for a yoimg lady who was 
 with an elderly female in a little blue hackney coach, with red 
 blinds. A black bonnet, puce-coloured cloak, grey hair ; that's the 
 old woman's description ; fair hair, black eyebrows and eyes ; that's 
 the young one's." 
 
 “ It must be them !" exclaimed Gaston, and then recovering his 
 sang f void, he said to Monsieur Godet, who was maliciously enjoying 
 his triumph — 
 
 “ Exactly, sir, I am somewhat concerned to know in what direc- 
 tion the persons whom you mention proceeded." 
 
 “ And," rejoined Monsieur Godet, “ you would particularly like 
 to be informed where they have taken the little tortoiseshell casket, 
 inlaid with gold, to ; wouldn't you, sir V 
 
 u How do you know anything about that V replied Gaston, more 
 and more astonished. 
 
 “ I can only declare upon my honour," answered Monsieur Godet, 
 “ that the old woman in question, scarcely an hour ago, in my 
 presence, gave the casket to the Vampire's servant." 
 
 This piece of information was so utterly unexpected, and so sur- 
 prising, that the two young men could not believe it. 
 
 A thousand opposite feelings — uneasiness, anger, jealousy, revenge, 
 curiosity, struggled for mastery in Gaston's bosom. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 25 
 
 “ Sir/' he exclaimed, actually pale with emotion, u you must, this 
 instant, tell me who this person is, you call the Vampire, and where 
 he lives." 
 
 “ Well, that's a pretty modest request, my good friend,” thought 
 to himself, Monsieur Godet, who was, by no means, disposed to give 
 up his victims so soon. He pointed to his bald head, and replied, 
 
 “ You will be good enough to remark, gentlemen, that at my age, 
 the spring time of life has long fled ; if you choose to return to the 
 Cafe Leboeuf, we might converse without being frozen." 
 
 “ As you like, sir," replied Gaston, who impatiently retraced his 
 steps to the widow's Cafe. 
 
 Never was Roman conqueror, dragging in triumph, a nation of 
 slaves behind his chariot, more proud, than was Monsieur Godet, 
 when he once more made his appearance in the widow's Cafe, fol- 
 lowed by the two strangers. He made a sign to the inquisitives to 
 restrain their curiosity, and withdrew with his prey into a corner of 
 the Cafe. Godet took good care not to inform the young men of 
 the Colonel's name at once, and in spite of their impatience, they 
 were obliged to undergo the infliction of all the absurd stories that 
 had been fabricated by the president of the Cafe idlers. 
 
 Had it not been for the clearness and precision of the facts which 
 this merciless Paul Pry had already revealed, Gaston would not have 
 believed a single word he said ; he was, however, compelled to hear 
 the whole story of the charge of dust shot ; the carriage, which was 
 such a magnificent turn out ; the Colonel's uniform, and the crown- 
 ing iniquity of his sacrilegious expeditions to the cemetery of Pere 
 la Chaise. 
 
 Disengaged from all this nonsense, the Colonel's mode of living 
 appeared, nevertheless, an extraordinary one to the two strangers. 
 
 “ Now then, sir," said Gaston, “ I have the honour to ask you, for 
 the twentieth time, to be good enough to inform me where the resi- 
 dence of this man is situated. All the details you have given us 
 are, no doubt, vastly interesting ; but once for all, the Colonel's 
 address is what I ask you for." 
 
 “ Follow me, gentlemen," replied Godet, suddenly rising, with an 
 imposing air. 
 
 He opened the Cafe door, and with his finger pointed out to 
 Gaston, the little door of the hotel D'Orbesson. 
 
 “ There, sir ; that's the V ampire's house opposite ; the door with 
 the wicket." 
 
 Gaston rushed towards the door, without saying a word. 
 
 Monsieur Godet re-closed the Cafe door, and rubbing his hands 
 with a kind of diabolical joy, exclaimed — 
 
 “ The plot thickens, gentlemen, the plot thickens ; and now let 
 us hurry back to our peep-holes." 
 
 The Cafe idlers, accordingly placed themselves once more at their 
 posts of observation. 
 
 Gaston rang the bell violently, and the Colonel’s old servant 
 showed himself, not at the door, but at the wicket. 
 
26 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 The two young men made, to all appearance, the most strenuous 
 efforts to obtain admittance ; they seemed even to employ menaces 
 as well as entreaties ; hut all was a waste of breath. Gaston was 
 obliged to content himself with pushing, through the wicket, his 
 card, upon which he had hastily scribbled a few words with 
 a pencil. 
 
 Perceiving that the conversation over the way was rather a warm 
 one, Monsieur Godet slightly opened the door of the Cafe, and dis- 
 tinctly heard Gaston exclaim, in an angry voice — 
 
 “ At nine o’clock to-morrow morning ; and I hope, then, there 
 will be no shuffling excuses." 
 
 The two young men then departed with such hasty steps, that 
 they were soon out of sight. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS.. 
 
 Next morning, at nine o’clock, Gaston’s carriage drew up before the- 
 hotel U Orbesson. The footman rang the bell ; the little door was 
 opened, and the old servant made his appearance. 
 
 “ Is Colonel Ulric at home V said Gaston. 
 
 The servant bowed without speaking and led the way before the 
 two young men. 
 
 You could conceive nothing more melancholy and desolate than 
 the interior of that vast mansion. Several large flag-stones, the 
 remains, no doubt, of some long destroyed building, were lying here 
 and there, half concealed by the grass which had taken possession 
 of the yard ; they were like tomb-stones in a forsaken cemetery. 
 
 All the windows were closed outside, and the spacious vaulted 
 stair-case re-echoed lugubriously, the creaking of the glass hall door, 
 on its rusty hinges. 
 
 The Colonel’s apartments were on the ground floor. 
 
 The servant conducted the two young men into an immense, but - 
 scarcely furnished drawing room, whose lofty windows with small 
 panes, and without curtains, looked into a garden enclosed by lofty 
 walls, and as melancholy as the garden of a cloister. 
 
 The servant disappeared, after having announced to the visiters 
 that the Colonel would be with them immediately. 
 
 It was a gloomy, overcast day, and the wind sighed mournfully 
 through the badly closed doors. Everything in that mansion be- 
 trayed, not poverty or neglect ; but the most profound indifference 
 to the common comforts of life. 
 
 Alfred and Gaston exchanged looks for some time in silence. At 
 last the former observed, shivering with cold as he did so — 
 
 “ Ever since we came in here, I feel as if I had a cape of iced lead 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 27 
 
 on my shoulders. Not a spark of fire to be seen ; the man must 
 be a thorough bred Spartan.” 
 
 “ Who can this man be T said Gaston, talking to himself. 
 
 “ She is the only one who could have informed you ; but she 
 went away last night.” 
 
 “ Yes, last night ;” replied Gaston. 
 
 “ Ulric !" continued Alfred “ Ulric ; that sounds like a Russian, 
 Prussian, or German name. I went yesterday to the Union club, 
 and questioned several members of the corps diplomatique , such 
 as secretaries of legation, attaches to the various embassies, et cetera , 
 et cetera ; but none of them knew such a man as Colonel Ulric. 
 Our only remaining chance of getting any information would be 
 from the Russian Ambassador ; but I was unable to meet 
 with him." 
 
 “ After all, what does it signify ?" observed Gaston. u This man 
 is in possession of my secret ; she has, doubtless, sacrificed me to 
 him ; it is a black piece of treachery ; I will either kill, or be killed 
 by him.” 
 
 “ Gently, my good fellow ; perhaps that fool gave us incorrect in- 
 formation yesterday. Certainly, there is every appearance of her 
 having brought the casket here herself ; but you must observe that 
 she did not come in, but that it was Madame Blondeau who deli- 
 vered it to the servant ; in short, Gaston, I leave it to your own 
 good sense ; you are too much a man of the world, and too well 
 used to these sort of affairs, to act like a child ; the matter is, un- 
 questionably, of importance, and our best plan will be, to be guided 
 by circumstances as they arise." 
 
 “ What irritates me most," exclaimed Gaston, “ is that woman's 
 inconceivable falsity ! I esteemed her as incapable, I do not say of 
 a lie, but even of the slightest dissimulation, and yet it is to this man, 
 whose name even she never pronounced in my presence, it is to him 
 that she has confided. By heavens, there is some odious mystery 
 here which I am impatient to fathom." 
 
 “ All that gossipping fellow told us yesterday about the Colonel's 
 mode of life is strange enough,” said Alfred, “ and we may at all 
 events conjecture from it that he is a most extraordinary being. The 
 aspect of ruin too, which everything wears here, does not prophesy 
 a particularly charming disposition in the owner, and without my 
 sympathy for your anxieties, I should be delighted at an interview 
 with Robin of the Woods, or the Vampire, as those good people call 
 him ; but this cold is perfectly intolerable, and if the devil is really 
 the master of this house, he ought at least to allow a little of his 
 superfluous heat to be reflected here, out of consideration for his 
 visiters.” 
 
 At that instant a door was thrown open by the servant, and the 
 Colonel entered the room. He was a tall, plainly dressed man, ap- 
 parently about thirty-six years of age, although his dark hair was 
 already tinged with grey about the temples. His complexion was 
 
28 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 swarthy in the extreme, and the deep furrow which divided his 
 black, straight, and strongly marked eyebrows, gave a stern and 
 haughty expression to his features, which, however, were regularly 
 formed, and might, perhaps, in times long gone by, have been capa- 
 ble of expressing the softer feelings of our nature. He cast his eyes 
 upon Gaston’s card, which he held in his hand, and addressing both 
 the young men at once, he said, in a firm, distinct voice, in which 
 no foreign accent was perceptible — 
 
 “ Count Gaston de Senneville ?” 
 
 “ That is my name, sir,” answered Gaston, who, at the same time, 
 introduced his friend as the Marquis de Baudricourt. 
 
 The Colonel, for the second time, slightly inclined his head, and 
 then crossing his hands behind his back, and looking Gaston full in 
 the face, he stood waiting for the Count to explain the object of 
 his visit. 
 
 Gaston was embarrassed for a moment, in spite of his natural 
 assurance and his familiarity with the world. 
 
 Not one of the Colonel’s harsh and swarthy features moved ; you 
 might have supposed he wore a mask of brass, and his large, grey 
 eyes had a certain clear, fixed, penetrating look, which, after some 
 time, it became almost impossible to endure. 
 
 There are some kinds of silence which it is very difficult to inter- 
 rupt. Whether Alfred was waiting for Gaston to speak, or Gaston 
 was waiting for the Colonel, all three remained mute for several 
 minutes. 
 
 It was then that Gaston, for the first time, felt the difficulty of 
 explaining the object of his visit, without disgracing the woman of 
 whose conduct he fancied he had just reason to complain, and thus, 
 as often occurs, at the moment when the explanation for which he 
 was so anxious, was imminent, the Count was assailed by a thou- 
 sand different reflections, which should have suggested themselves 
 to his mind before his visit to the Colonel. He actually coloured 
 with embarrassment, vexation and anger, and Alfred, desirous of 
 bringing this disagreeable scene to an end, said to the Colonel — 
 
 “ Of course, sir, you know the object of our present visit V 
 
 “ I do not, sir,” was Ulric’s reply. 
 
 “ We have come, sir,” exclaimed Gaston, “ about a casket, which 
 is my property, and which was given to you yesterday, by a woman, 
 with whom you, no doubt, are acquainted, as she was only the emis- 
 sary of another female, who cannot be unknown to you.” 
 
 “ I do not know what you mean, sir,” answered the Colonel. 
 
 11 Sir !” said Gaston, impetuously. 
 
 “ Sir !” replied the Colonel, without raising his voice. 
 
 There was another pause, and Gaston bit his lips with vexation. 
 Alfred, however, said with great sang froid — 
 
 “ It is of the utmost importance to Monsieur de Senneville, to 
 find out whether a certain casket, which is his property, and which 
 contains some papers of importance, was, or was not, delivered to 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 29 
 
 you yesterday afternoon ? If you will be kind enough sir, to give 
 him your word of honour, that the casket in question has not been, 
 or is not now in your possession, Monsieur de Senneville will declare 
 himself perfectly satisfied.” 
 
 “ I will not declare myself satisfied, unless — ” began Gaston, when 
 the Marquis interrupted him, by saying — 
 
 “ My good fellow, as you have selected me for your adviser, pray 
 allow me to come to an explanation with this gentleman.” 
 
 “ That explanation, gentlemen, will be a very simple one,” replied 
 the Colonel, who took a step or two towards the door, as if to show 
 that any further questioning would be perfectly useless. “ I have 
 no answer to give.” 
 
 “ So, sir,” exclaimed Gaston, you decline giving your word 
 that — ■” 
 
 “ I refuse, sir,” said the Colonel, who took another step towards 
 the door, “ to answer those questions which I cannot allow to be 
 either necessary or proper.” 
 
 “ Pray, sir,” said Alfred, whose patience was nearly worn out, 
 “ does that movement of yours towards the door imply that this 
 conversation has lasted too long ?” 
 
 “ Too long, perhaps ; but certainly, long enough,” replied the 
 Colonel, putting his hand on the lock of the door. “ I have nothing 
 to say, or to hear.” 
 
 “ And I, sir,” exclaimed Gaston, “ declare to you that I will not 
 leave your house till you have answered my question ; is that casket 
 here, or is it not V* 
 
 “ One word, sir, I entreat,” said Alfred, who appeared desirous 
 of exhausting the whole arsenal of peaceful expedients. “ You, sir, 
 are a man of the world, and we as men of the world, have had re- 
 course to you ; this resolution was taken by us, after well grounded 
 information had reached us — information which made it certain 
 that the casket in question was delivered, if not to you, sir, at least 
 to one of your servants. If this circumstance has not come to your 
 knowledge, be good enough to question your servant.” 
 
 “ It would be useless to do so, sir, said the Colonel.” 
 
 “ Then by Heavens,” exclaimed Gaston, stamping with fury, 
 u we must — ” 
 
 u Stop, Gaston ; one word more,” said Alfred, and then he 
 added — 
 
 “ As you decline, sir, this mode of clearing up the business, you 
 take the whole responsibility of the matter upon yourself. Once 
 more for the last time, we appeal to your honour to vouchsafe us a 
 positive answer. Monsieur de Senneville would be sorry to exceed 
 the limits of moderation, and you, sir, are of too high a station in 
 society to receive with incivility a question that is put to you with 
 politeness.” 
 
 “ I have already had the honour, gentlemen, of telling you twice 
 
30 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 that I have no answer to give on the subject,” replied the Colonel, 
 as calmly and coldly as ever. 
 
 Alfred and Gaston exchanged a look of indignation 
 “ It is evident,” said the Marquis, that we cannot force you into 
 an explanation, but — ” 
 
 u It is useless, sir,” interrupted Gaston with firmness, “ to pro- 
 tract this interview any further ; your refusal to answer is a con- 
 fession that you are in possession of the casket ; I have reasons for 
 looking upon that possession of yours, as an insult to me, and for 
 that insult, therefore, I require satisfaction from you.” 
 
 “ Very well, sir,” replied the Colonel, opening the door of the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 “ This gentleman,” continued Gaston, pointing to the Marquis, 
 “ will be kind enough to come in the course of the day, in order to 
 settle matters with your seconds.” 
 
 “ That will not be required, sir,” said the Colonel ; u we can this 
 minute decide upon time, place, and arms.” 
 
 “ Very well, sir,” replied Gaston ; ten o’clock to-morrow 
 morning.” 
 
 “ Ten o’clock,” repeated the Colonel. 
 
 “ Near the pheasant preserve, in the hois de Vincennes” 
 
 “ In the hois de Vincennes” repeated the Colonel. 
 
 “ As for arms, sir,” continued Gaston, “ be kind enough to name 
 your own.” 
 
 “ I have no choice, sir.” 
 
 “ Swords, then, sir.” 
 
 “ Swords be it,” replied the Colonel, shutting the door after 
 the two young men, without the slightest emotion of feature 
 or voice. 
 
 The old servant conducted the two young men out, and the 
 Hotel HOrbesson returned to its silence and solitude. 
 
 The inquisitives of the Cafe Lebceuf, who had been on the 
 look-out all the morning, had seen the two young men enter 
 the house. 
 
 When they came out, and were .about to get into their carriage,. 
 Monsieur Godet, goaded on by his insatiable curiosity, opened the 
 Cafe door, went up, without his hat, to Gaston, and said to him, 
 with a mixture of mystery and familiarity — 
 
 “ Well, young man, did we get on pretty well ? As you have ma- 
 naged to penetrate into the Vampire's den, you might as well give 
 us a description of its interior. Did he give you back the pretty 
 lady’s casket ? I hope you snubbed the old fellow nicely.” 
 
 Alfred and Gaston got into the carriage without answering 
 Monsieur Godet’s questions ; the footman shut the door, cried out, 
 “ Home,” to the coachman, and the inquisitive was left alone with 
 his disappointment. 
 
 “ Impertinent coxcomb !" exclaimed Monsieur Godet ; “ he was a 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 31 
 
 devilish deal more polite yesterday, when he was trying to get at 
 my secret. Never mind, they both looked pale and irritated, and 
 that is, at all events, something gained." 
 
 Monsieur Godet, on his return to the Cafe, was overwhelmed 
 with questions, to which he replied, with an air of importance — 
 
 “ The gentlemen only had time to give me a few details, and to 
 thank me for my politeness. All will be cleared up to-morrow." 
 
 This excuse, which happened to be the truth, was perfectly well 
 received by the frequenters of the Cafe, and they looked forward 
 with impatience to the morrow. 
 
 Effectually, that day was, indeed, a great one for the inquisitives 
 of the Cafe Leboeuf. 
 
 At eight o’clock in the morning, the Colonel’s servant went out 
 by himself, and returned about an hour afterwards, with two in- 
 fantry soldiers in a hackney coach. 
 
 u Halloo !" exclaimed Monsieur Godet, who was already at his 
 post, “ he has been to fetch the guard, to protect his master, I sup- 
 pose, against the two young men. The Vampire, it seems, is not 
 a Coeur de Lion" 
 
 11 If it were the guard," observed one of the others, “ the soldiers 
 would have their guns and cartridge boxes ; but you see they have 
 only got their swords." 
 
 “ That is true enough ; but what the deuce are the soldiers 
 wanted for, if it is not to defend the Vampire %" 
 
 The discussion had arrived at this point, when the door of the 
 Hbtel L'Orbesson was opened, and the Colonel, who was wrapped 
 up in a large cloak, came out and got into the hackney coach with 
 the two soldiers. 
 
 When the carriage was gone, the old servant, instead of imme- 
 diately re-entering the house, as was his wont, stopped for a few 
 moments on the threshold of the door, and gave an uneasy look in 
 the direction which the carriage had taken ; he then withdrew after 
 having closed the door with a bang. 
 
 All these various movements did not escape the spies of the Caf£ 
 Leboeuf, and they were sorely puzzled at the Colonel’s proceedings. 
 Where the deuce could he be going to, with those two soldiers ? 
 
 The widow observed that she had fancied she saw a sword-sheath 
 sticking out from under the Colonel’s cloak, but she could not be 
 certain of the fact. 
 
 “ A sword !” exclaimed Monsieur Godet, rubbing his hands with 
 pleasure ; “ capital ! I have no doubt you are right, and perhaps 
 there is a duel in the wind with those two coxcombs whom we saw 
 yesterday. Upon my word, it is becoming quite amusing, and we 
 shall have our money’s worth after all, hurrah !” 
 
 “ If there should be a duel !” exclaimed the revengeful widow 
 “ I would give something myself that the great puppy who made 
 such a fuss about a miserable spider, should be laid up with a good 
 wound of some sort or other.” 
 
32 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ And I, too, my dear Madame Leboenf, who have not much to 
 thank those two coxcombs for, in the way of politeness and gra- 
 titude, join with you in wishing that they may meet with some- 
 thing particularly disagreeable. But if a duel were in hand, there 
 would be seconds required.” 
 
 “ Well — those two soldiers T 
 
 “ Nonsense, my dear Madame Leboeuf ; the Vampire is a Colonel, 
 and he would never condescend to take a couple of common soldiers 
 for seconds. It would be an infringement of all military discipline. 
 Halloo ! what the deuce is that servant about again at the threshold 
 of the door V added Monsieur Godet, looking through the window ; 
 that is the third time since his master went away, that he has 
 stuck himself there, as upright as a milestone. There is something 
 unnatural about all this ; he looks very uneasy ; I have half a mind 
 to go and ask him some questions." 
 
 “ You could not do so at a worse time, Monsieur Godet," remon- 
 strated the widow. “ Don’t go and expose yourself to the brutal 
 insults of that old wretch.” 
 
 “ Hush ! hush !” exclaimed Godet, clapping his nose close to the 
 window again ; “ I hear the noise of a carriage.” 
 
 Effectually it was the carriage, bringing back the Colonel and 
 the two soldiers. 
 
 Colonel Ulric jumped actively out of the carriage, said a few 
 words to the two soldiers, shook hands with them, and dismissed 
 them. 
 
 Madame Leboeuf declared afterwards, that she had seen the old 
 servant drop a tear while he was closing the little gate after his 
 master. 
 
 Unfortunately for the idlers of the Cafe Leboeuf these two days, 
 which had been so fruitful in events of various kinds, were suc- 
 ceeded by weeks of the most uninteresting monotony. 
 
 Neither letter, casket, or carriage appeared again ; the basket 
 of provisions was brought every morning as usual, and that 
 was all. 
 
 They repeated the experiment of the ashes in the alley, and 
 found that the Vampire still continued his nightly expeditions, and’ 
 Monsieur Godet, though no longer ambitious of bearing a share in 
 them, had no doubt that their object was still the cemetery of 
 Pere la Chaise. 
 
 The only event which re-awakened, for an instant, the curiosity 
 of the idlers, was, the appearance of the old woman, who had 
 brought the casket. About two months after the Colonel’s duel, 
 this woman came again to the Hotel d ’ Orbesson, and delivered 
 a parcel, of tolerable bulk, to the servant. 
 
 After that she was seen no more. 
 
 We will now, therefore, relate this last visit paid by Madame 
 Blondeau, to Colonel Ulric. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 COLONEL ULRIC. 
 
 Madame Blondeau was introduced by the old servant into the great 
 drawing-room, where the Colonel had received Gaston and Alfred, 
 two months before. We may add that Stok (the ancient domestic 
 was thus named) had lost his former, forbidding expression of 
 countenance. 
 
 “ How is the Colonel, Monsieur Stok T 
 
 “ Still the same, Madame Blondeau ; an iron body, but a feeble 
 head — sometimes my poor master spends whole days in weeping like 
 a child — to think that he, of all men, should weep ! — had any one 
 told me this a year ago, I should not have believed it — and then 
 scarcely a night passes — ” 
 
 Here Stok paused with a sigh. 
 
 “ Good God ! What, still at the cemetery !” exclaimed Madame 
 Blondeau. 
 
 “ Yes, Madame, always there — it is enough to break one’s 
 heart.” 
 
 “ And how does he spend the rest of his time, Monsieur Stok ?’ 
 
 “ In giving himself up to the deepest and gloomiest reveries, or 
 in walking up and down the little paved room which he inhabits, 
 and which is a hundred times more cold and damp than all the 
 rest, for it used to be a bath room. Well, my master appears to 
 have chosen that very room precisely on account of its being the 
 worst in the mansion. I will tell you what it is, Madame Blondeau ; 
 there is one little circumstance, which, childish as it is in appearance, 
 brings, nevertheless, the tears into my eyes whenever I see it.” 
 
 “ What is that, Monsieur Stok T 
 
 “ Why, during the six months that we have inhabited this 
 mansion, my master, by constantly walking in this little room, from 
 the door to the window, and the window to the door, has so worn 
 the pavement of the floor, that you may actually see the indenta- 
 tions in it which his footsteps have made.” 
 
 “ Horrible, indeed ! Merciful God, what an existence !” 
 
 (i Alas ! Madame Blondeau, you would say that his mind is so 
 thoroughly concentrated upon one idea, that everything else, even 
 cold and hunger, find him insensible. He would not remember to 
 eat, were I not to remind him of meal times. Even during the 
 severe frosts we have had this winter, he would not have a fire 
 lighted, which is a whim of his that I cannot understand. Moreover, 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE ORPHAH. 
 
 Madame Blondeau, I will tell you something that will surprise you. 
 Every day, for the last thirty years, my master has always permitted 
 me, in accordance with an old custom we have in Hungary, to kiss 
 his hand when I leave his presence, which, according to our ideas, 
 is a mark of attachment and respect. Well, would you believe it, 
 in spite of the severe cold, his poor hand is always dry and hot, as 
 if he was suffering under a high fever. And yet no change takes 
 place in him, which I can easily conceive, as his constitution 
 i3 such a powerful one. Some twelve years ago, in our campaigns 
 against the Turks, I have seen him remain on horseback for twenty 
 and thirty hours together without eating, and merely take now and 
 then a little snow from his horse’s mane, to quench his thirst with, 
 nor did I ever hear him utter a complaint. When wounded he 
 would smile as I hastened up to him, and a smile so gentle and 
 sweet, that it comforted me in spite of my fears. Alas ! I have not 
 .seen that smile on his lips for a year. He sees nobody, and pays no 
 visits. Once, only, he went to the Russian Embassy to receive an 
 order from his Majesty the Emperor. Ah ! Madame Blondeau, it 
 was quite a treat for me to see him put on his uniform ; he looked 
 so handsome in it, and it brought so many, many circumstances to 
 my mind ! I was quite surprised at his asking for his uniform ; but 
 he told me he was going to the Embassy, to receive a letter of the 
 Emperor’s, and I could understand that in such a case, he considered 
 that costume a proper mark of respect, the Emperor was always so 
 good to him, and the Colonel "was so much attached to his Majesty ! 
 Since that day, my master has- never been out, except for that duel.” 
 
 “ Ah ! that duel, that duel, Monsieur Stok, when I think that 
 it was occasioned by that unlucky casket.” 
 
 “ I cannot say, my good Madame, that the duel itself gave me 
 much uneasiness, for I was well acquainted with my master’s skill 
 and strength. He had shewn himself superior to the most famous 
 French swordsmen, who had visited Russia, and yet, in spite of 
 myself, I kept fidgetting backwards and forwards at the door, and 
 my poor old heart actually leaped with joy, when I saw him return 
 with the two soldiers, whom he had sent me to fetch for seconds, 
 from the barracks close by. The young man got off with a sword 
 wound, which kept him in bed for a month. The evening after the 
 duel, my master said something which much surprised me, coming 
 from him ; he was talking to himself, as he often does, and mut- 
 tered in a low voice — 
 
 “ I do not hate that man ; I have always recoiled at the sight of 
 blood, except in war, and yet I beheld his with a savage pleasure. 
 
 I was about to spare him no longer, when, suddenly, the voice told 
 me not to take his life, and I obeyed.” 
 
 “ What voice did he mean, Monsieur Stok ?” 
 
 “ I do not know Madame Blondeau ; sometimes he stops in his 
 walks, and appears to be listening, then he presses his two hands to 
 his forehead, and begins to walk again.” 
 
 “ Poor Colonel !” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 35 
 
 “ But how selfish I am,” said Stok, I talk to you of nothing but 
 my master. How is the Viscountess V 
 
 “ She is still in Touraine, and still suffers greatly.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Madame Blondeau, what changes and misfortunes we have 
 witnessed during the six years of our acquaintance !” 
 
 “ May God grant, Monsieur Stok, that they may be ended as 
 regards my mistress ; I dare not utter the same prayer for your 
 master, although it is said that every sorrow has an end at last.” 
 
 “ Not such sorrows as his, Madame Blondeau — not such sorrows 
 as his,” replied Stok with a melancholy shake of the head. 
 
 “ Can I not yet see the Colonel ? I am desirous of giving this 
 parcel into his hands, and of returning to-night by the Diligence 
 to Tours. I am in a hurry to get back to my mistress.” 
 
 “ My master has not yet rung for me,” answered Stok ; and he 
 added with a tone of entreaty — “ a few minutes sooner or later will 
 make no difference to you, and if you did but know what a few 
 minutes’ sleep are to my master, and what good they do him — he 
 gets so little rest ! This morning again, he came home very late.” 
 
 “ What an existence !” said Madame Blondeau, with a sigh. 
 
 “ I should never complain,” continued Stok, “ if I had only my 
 master to think about ; but you cannot imagine how I am bothered 
 by half a dozen old fools who are playing the spy upon us all day. 
 There is not a trick which they have left unemployed to get in 
 here, and they are constantly perched, like so many crows, upon 
 chairs, in the Cafe opposite, in order to watch what is going on in 
 our house.” 
 
 “ I have no doubt,” said Madame Blondeau, “ that it was them 
 I saw just now all on the qui vive, when I knocked at your gate.” 
 
 “ Assuredly it was ; and yet I gave a pretty sharp lesson to one 
 of them, but all is of no avail.” 
 
 At this moment a bell was rung. 
 
 “ My master wants me,” said Stok, “ have the goodness to wait 
 a minute, Madame Blondeau, and I will announce your visit to the 
 Colonel.” 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour, Madame Blondeau was admitted 
 into the Colonel’s room. He was standing up, and dressed in a 
 long, dark coloured, Turkish pelisse. The low window, through 
 which you perceived a double row of chesnut trees, with black and 
 bare trunks, gave but a dubious light to the apartment. 
 
 The species of painful contraction which usually gave a harsh — 
 one might almost call it a petrified — expression to the Colonel’s 
 countenance, appeared to relax a little when he beheld Madame 
 Blondeau, and his features gradually unbent themselves. 
 
 “ How is Matilda V ’ he enquired in a gentle tone, and with an 
 expression of great kindness. 
 
 “ Alas ! sir,” was Madame Blondeau’s faltering reply ; “ my 
 Lady is still in great affliction.” And the poor old woman’s 
 eyes were filled with tears. “ Forgive me, sir,” she continued, 
 d 3 
 
36 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ but I can never hear that name pronounced, without my feelings 
 being overcome.” 
 
 “ I call her thus before you, by the name of her youth, because 
 you brought her up, and always evinced towards her the affection 
 of a mother.” 
 
 “ Ah ! sir, this is more than I deserve ; I am only a servant.” 
 
 “ In saying so, you do justice neither to yourself nor to her. I 
 am aware of your conduct, and am also aware that Matilda appre- 
 ciates it as she ought. You are, indeed, an excellent and invaluable 
 woman. But let me ask your business ?” 
 
 “ My lady requested me to be the bearer of these papers, not 
 liking to confide them to the risk of the post office. And she par- 
 ticularly desired me to tell you, sir, that she does not require an 
 answer from you. My lady told me you are to read them when you 
 choose. She knows ” 
 
 “ Be it so,” gently interrupted the Colonel, as if desirous of 
 banishing some painful recollections ; and he placed the packet 
 upon the table. 
 
 “ And the casket Y was his next question. 
 
 “ My lady desired that I would request you to continue keep- 
 ing it.” 
 
 It was easy to perceive that the Colonel was in a deep fit of ab- 
 sence notwithstanding the very cordial manner in which he had 
 received Madame Blondeau, and she had scarcely answered his 
 question, when he again fell into one of his deep reveries. With 
 his arms folded across his breast and his head hanging down, he 
 began to pace up and down the room with slow steps, and became 
 totally oblivious of Madame Blondeau’s presence, and the poor 
 woman, who did not dare to say a word, soon withdrew. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The packet brought to the Colonel, by Madame Blondeau, from 
 Matilda, besides a rather bulky manuscript contained the following 
 letter : — 
 
 Chateau de Maran, April 15, 1838. - 
 
 “ I know not, my friend, how long a time will elapse before you 
 have the courage to open this letter. 
 
 “ I knew and loved — oh ! fondly loved — her whom you are 
 mourning. I know your heart, your disposition. I know what you 
 was to her ; I know what she was to you ; how, then, can I ima- 
 gine that there is any consolation for despair like yours. 
 
 u Ulric, my friend, my brother, there beats not in this dreary 
 world of ours a heart more devoted to you than mine. I never 
 possessed a friend but you, and you know too well what bitter 
 pangs I should have escaped, had I been more docile to the severe 
 and inflexible voice of that sacred friendship. But I will not talk 
 of myself ; let this letter be devoted to you — to you, whose heart 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 37 
 
 is such a great and noble one — to you, who realise in yourself the 
 ideal of human goodness. 
 
 “ You suffer, my friend, and your suffering is despair. The 
 dreary abyss before you grows deeper and darker as you sound its 
 gloom. When I heard, a year ago, of the fearful catastrophe, I 
 fell on my knees, and prayed for her , but oh ! I prayed more 
 earnestly for you, who survived her. 
 
 “ Not for an instant did I think of writing to, or seeing you. 
 There are wounds of the spirit which the very uselessness of conso- 
 lation serves but to irritate and inflame. 
 
 “ You have left everything, that you may lead, near the beloved 
 remains of Emma, a life as cold and silent as the tomb which 
 contains them. 
 
 “ It is a strange and sublime thing, my friend, to mark how 
 noble natures — noble, alike, in courage and heart, are gifted with 
 the foresight of the miseries they are destined to experience. 
 
 “ Three years ago, Emma said to you in joke* ‘ TJlric, what would 
 become of you, if you were to lose me V and I fancy I can hear you 
 even now answering her with that smile which none possess but 
 you, and without brushing away the tears which filled your eyes — 
 ‘ 1 would go wherever you might be. I would live in solitude. Con- 
 solation could never reach me. Perhaps I should not even have the 
 courage to see Matilda — Matilda — our friend — our sister .’ 
 
 “ Had any one else spoken such words, they would have seemed 
 merely melancholy or exaggerated ; but spoken by you, Ulric, they 
 bore the impression of a desolating truthfulness. 
 
 “ Both Emma and myself burst into tears as terrified as if the 
 hand of God himself had, at that instant, torn down the veil which 
 shut out futurity from our sight. 
 
 “ And, Ulric, as faithfully as you have ever observed all promises, 
 have you kept that fearful one. 
 
 “ I send you these papers with complete confidence, and with no 
 fear of being troublesome. You will read this letter when you feel 
 sufficient courage to think of me — of me, who was her constant 
 companion. 
 
 “ Nor will this be a proof that your despair grows less. Alas ! 
 no. On the contrary, you will seek with a savage joy among these 
 pages, those which speak of Emma, that by their perusal, you may 
 stir up a fresh agony in the wounds which are already bleeding so 
 piteously. 
 
 “ Perchance it will be long before you read this, or the accom- 
 panying papers — perchance you will never do so. If so, my friend, 
 recommend these papers, as well as the casket you received 
 two months ago, to Stok’s fidelity. I desire that all may be 
 destroyed. 
 
 “ If you peruse the manuscript I send you, you will know why 
 I sent you the casket. 
 
 “ Ulric, I shall have one subject of eternal remorse. The deposit 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 38 
 
 of that casket might have been fatal to you — I have heard all. 
 That duel ! Ah ! God is my witness that I believed no one would 
 know those papers were in your hands. 
 
 “ By what fatality was that secret discovered ? By what fatality 
 was your life, and that of another person, whom I must no longer 
 blame, exposed to peril 1 This is a mystery which I shall, doubtless, 
 never fathom. 
 
 “ And now, my friend, one word about myself. 
 
 “ I have been very miserable for a long time, and especially for 
 the last year. It would be blasphemy to compare my sorrows to 
 yours, and yet my existence has been a burden heavy to be borne. 
 When, two months ago, I settled in this retreat, where I shall, pro- 
 bably, end my days, the remembrance of what I had gone through, 
 occasioned in .me a kind of painful stupefaction. 
 
 “ I so much needed repose, or rather forgetfulness of everything, 
 and of the whole world, that the distant murmur of bygone days 
 was odious to me. 
 
 “ A strange reflection, then, occurred to my mind. One soothes 
 and wears out one’s sorrows, by confiding them to another. Per- 
 haps in writing this history of my life, I shall get rid of the memories 
 which haunt me — perhaps this silent confession will bring back 
 repose to my pillow. 
 
 “ I fancied, also, that I should experience a species of bitter joy, 
 in retracing the past, in choosing among the withered flowers of 
 life, some which were still precious, though faded ; in casting the 
 others to the breezes of oblivion, and finally, in giving vent at last, 
 to those indignant feelings which my pride had hitherto invariably 
 suppressed. 
 
 “ I was not, my friend, deceived in this expectation ; I have 
 found relief in this frank and honest confession of my whole life — 
 its noble actions — its contemptible errors — and the phantoms which 
 startled my imagination have vanished. 
 
 “ In casting a glance, free at last from prejudice, upon those days 
 which are no more, in enumerating the tears which I have shed, and 
 in coolly analysing their origin, I have found sorrow yield to dis- 
 dain, and a gloomy, melancholy calm has replaced the emotions 
 which once agitated me so cruelly. I have recited my good actions 
 without pride — my errors without false humility ; I have not as- 
 persed my enemies ; I have not flattered my friends ; I have set 
 forth the conduct of both towards me in its true colours. The look 
 I have thrown back upon my existence, like a judge’s, has been a 
 just and severe one. 
 
 “ In my thoughts I addressed myself to you — to our friend — to 
 our sister. 
 
 “ I remembered that in those days of happiness, often and often 
 both she and yourself had said to me, “ Matilda, read us some of 
 the pages of your heart.” I remembered, too, that the frankness 
 with which I did so, charmed and terrified you by turns. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 3$ 
 
 u If, my friend, you read these pages, you will not love me more ; 
 but, perhaps, will more esteem me. 
 
 “ And now, my end is accomplished ; though there is a void in 
 my heart, it is at least a tranquil one. The past is my security for 
 the future. I am indebted to you for the repose which I enjoy ; 
 for no one else should ever have received these confidences — confi- 
 dences which have soothed sorrows, alas ! how poignant. 
 
 “ Adieu my friend, adieu my brother, and remember Matilda, 
 when you read in these pages those two names, which shall be 
 always as sacredly united in my heart as they have been in this 
 world — Ulric — Emma. 
 
 “ MATILDA.” 
 
 - — — — c 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE MARAN. 
 
 Left an orphan in my early years, I spent my childhood with an 
 aunt, Mademoiselle de Maran, my father’s sister. 
 
 I was brought up by Madame Blondeau, an excellent woman, 
 who, at the period of my birth, had been already for a long time 
 in the service of my mother. 
 
 My aunt had always evinced a disinclination to matrimony ; she 
 was deformed in her person, but a most extremely witty and 
 
 satirical woman. 
 
 Notwithstanding her deformity, her ugliness, and her excessive 
 shortness of figure, few possessed a more imposing, or rather a more 
 haughty expression of countenance, than Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 She did not, indeed, inspire that respectful deference which noble 
 features and distinction, or affable condescension of manner inva- 
 riably command ; but her sight occasioned in one a kind of terror 
 and distrust of one’s self. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran had never been separated from my 
 father ; towards the middle of the revolution she had emigrated to 
 England with him, after having been a partaker in all his sorrows 
 and all his dangers. 
 
 In spite of all the misery which my aunt has brought upon me, 
 I am bound to own that she had a tender affection for her brother ; 
 but the very love of the wicked bears the fatal stamp of their 
 nature ; they seem to attach themselves to one person, in order to 
 have a pretext for hating a hundred others ; they love you, in- 
 deed, but they at the same time detest those who have a right 
 to share your affection, or who exhibit any tokens of their own 
 towards you. 
 
 Of this nature was my aunt’s love for my father. Moreover, the 
 pride and firmness of her disposition established a complete in- 
 
40 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 fiuence over him, and he took no step without consulting her. 
 Her advice was always remarkable for foresight, subtilty, and tact. 
 Detesting Napoleon as much as the revolution whence he sprung, 
 intimately acquainted with several members of the English Cabinet, 
 and foreseeing the fall of the empire, my aunt had persuaded my 
 father, about the year 1812, to reside near Hartwell, and to become 
 an assiduous courtier to Louis the Eighteenth. Mademoiselle de 
 Maran was in the constant habit of seeing the King herself, and 
 had got into favour by her lively and caustic disposition, her correct 
 judgment, and the freedom of her conversation ; she was also an 
 admirable Latin scholar, and delighted the Prince by her quotations, 
 which were full of a propos and flattery, the more subtile from 
 being concealed by the exterior of a coarseness that was almost 
 cynical. 
 
 Acute, clever, penetrating, and dreaded for her malicious sar- 
 casms, which feared nothing and spared none, Mademoiselle de 
 Maran employed her veiy ugliness, deformity, and weakness, as a 
 weapon, at one time offensive — at another, defensive, in defying 
 both sexes. She yielded herself up as a victim to ridicule, in 
 order to have the right of mercilessly immolating others at the 
 same altar. 
 
 She possessed the art of always surprising the secrets of the in- 
 cautious or the confiding, aud those very secrets she afterwards 
 made use of, with most dangerous adroitness, in establishing her 
 power over those who had thus become the dupes of her cunning. 
 Knowing, too, as she did, the vulnerable point of each individual, 
 she was never sparing of the most bitter raillery, and affected, at 
 the same time, a wish that no mercy might be shown to her own 
 foibles. 
 
 She commonly indulged in a style of conversation so familiar as 
 almost to degenerate into vulgarity. I have heard her say that 
 part of her youth had been spent at Ponchartrain, with old Madame 
 de Maurepas (at the time M. Maurepas was banished to that seat) 
 and that she had there acquired this habit of employing these unre- 
 fined expressions, a habit, indeed, much in fashion during the 
 Regency, and which had continued in vogue with some of the Court 
 set, till the end of Louis the Fifteenth’s reign. 
 
 Do not, then, my friend, feel surprised if you should, in the 
 course of my history, stumble now and then upon expressions, 
 which, in our days, would scarcely be tolerated. My aim has been, 
 to alter nothing which could give a true idea of Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s physiology. 
 
 Louis the Eighteenth, who liked epigrams to be as savage, and 
 jokes as coarse as possible, was rather partial to my aunt’s style of 
 conversation, and used to say, “ With her one is more at one’s ease 
 than with a man, and under less restraint than with a woman.” In 
 the year 1812, my father, the Marquis de Maran, was about forty 
 years of age. He had several times been desirous of marrying ; but 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 41 
 
 my aunt, dreading to lose her influence over him, had broken off all 
 his matrimonial negociations at one time, by skilfully scandalising 
 the young ladies’ characters ; at another, by attributing to my 
 father himself such violence and also hypocrisy of disposition, that 
 several fathers would not hear of M. de Maran for a son-in-law. 
 
 M. de Maran chanced to see my mother, and he was so struck 
 with her beauty, her charming disposition, and her enchanting wit, 
 that he became passionately enamoured, and to such a degree, that 
 he announced to my aunt, at the same time, his love, and his inten- 
 tion of ratifying it by a marriage. 
 
 My mother was the daughter of the Baron d’Arbois, an emigrant 
 and formerly a Lieutenant-General in the King’s service ; but her 
 marvellous beauty was her only dowry. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, who was herself avaricious and deformed, 
 despised poverty, and abhorred beauty. She set every engine at 
 work, prayers, threats, tears, sarcasms, and plots, in order to turn 
 my father from his purpose. This time, however, he was inflexible, 
 and my mother became his wife. 
 
 You may imagine, my friend, the fury of my aunt, and the hatred 
 she conceived against my father’s bride. For the first time in his 
 life, M. de Maran had shaken off the yoke of his imperious sister, 
 who, however, was too skilful, to betray the animosity she felt. She 
 first of all, in my father's presence, treated my mother with cold 
 politeness, and then, little by little, appeared inclined to become 
 sociable, and made sundry seeming little sacrifices to her ; but as 
 Mademoiselle de Maran continued to reside with her brother, she 
 soon resumed all her former influence over him. My aunt’s age, 
 her satirical and haughty disposition overawed my mother, whose 
 angelic sweetness of character was only equalled by her timidity. 
 My father treated his young wife like a spoiled child, and all the 
 important questions of domestic life were reserved for Mademoiselle 
 de Maran, who, having grown tired of her self-restraint, soon com- 
 pelled my mother to atone, by daily recurring annoyances, for her 
 fatal marriage. My father, the best of men, and distinguished by 
 every feeling of uprightness and generosity, was, nevertheless, un- 
 luckily destitute of firmness ; he doated, it is true, upon his wife ; 
 but he looked up to his sister with a mingled attachment and 
 respect, and considered her as the most safe and valuable counsellor 
 that he could have. 
 
 When my father had been married a year, Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s influence, which had been shaken for an instant, returned 
 with double authority, and my mother made the painful discovery 
 that she had never possessed the confidence of her husband. No- 
 thing was done except at the instigation, or with the approval of 
 my aunt. Two or three times, indeed, my mother attempted to 
 exercise the authority of a mistress in her own family, and com- 
 plained to her husband of Mademoiselle de Maran’s encroachments ; 
 but the most painful scenes were the consequence. 
 
42 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 My father plainly told my mother that he would never sacrifice 
 his brotherly affection — that tie which had commenced at the 
 cradle, to finish only at the grave — in favour of an attachment 
 strong as it undoubtedly was — of such recent date, and from that 
 day forth my mother, who was deeply hurt, but too proud to com- 
 plain, and too timid to contend against her sister-in-law, made up 
 her mind to resignation, and was completely sacrificed to Made- 
 moiselle de Maran. 
 
 The events which followed the misfortunes of 1813, and which 
 placed my father in a position to gratify his ambitious views, in- 
 creased still further the influence of Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 Thanks to the intercourse which, by his sister’s advice, he had 
 long kept up with Louis the Eighteenth, M. de Maran was en- 
 trusted with several very delicate missions at the Courts of Vienna, 
 and Berlin. He regularly informed his sister of the progress of his 
 negotiations, for her capacity rendered her quite equal to taking a 
 part in the most important political affairs, and her advice was 
 highly useful to my father, whose diplomatic schemes were crowned 
 with the highest success. In 1814, his services were bounteously 
 and nobly recompensed by a very high place in the Councils of 
 Louis the Eighteenth, whom he afterwards followed to Ghent, and 
 accompanied on his return to France. 
 
 I was born in 1813, during my father’s absence in Germany. 
 This event, which, had my father been at home, might have, in 
 some degree, restored my mother’s influence over her husband, 
 occasioned (as things turned out) but little change in that inter- 
 course, which had already become marked by so much coldness 
 between them. The increase of Mademoiselle de Maran’s influence, 
 and the unhappiness of my mother kept pace with the extension 
 of my father’s fortune ; and his drawing-room became a rendezvous 
 for political characters, to whom Mademoiselle de Maran alone did 
 the honours of the house. 
 
 My mother, a girl of eighteen, had a deep-rooted antipathy to 
 State affairs, which had no interest for her, and she preferred music 
 and poetry to those dry discussions of diplomacy in which she had 
 neither the power nor the inclination to take a part. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, on the contrary, was in her glory on 
 those occasions. From my subsequent acquaintance with 'political 
 women in society, I have become convinced that they are all alike. 
 They are a bastard race with the ambitious and selfish passions of 
 the other sex, and without one of the qualities and graces of their 
 own, they are remarkable for barrenness of intellect, emptiness and 
 frigidity of heart, harshness of disposition, and the most ridiculous 
 pretensions to superior knowledge ; in a word, political vjomen are 
 a mongrel breed between a school-master and a step-mother, and 
 even in married life, perpetuate the characteristics of old maids. 
 
 By degrees, under the pretence of delicate health, my mother 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 43 
 
 withdrew altogether from that society, which was so delightful to 
 her sister-in-law. All her affection was concentrated upon me, and 
 she loved me as the only refuge from her sorrows, as her only conso- 
 lation, as her only hope. Still her heart was too good and gene- 
 rous a one to allow her ever to utter a complaint or reproach 
 against Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 My father was now raised to the Peerage, and a final and a fatal 
 grief was reserved for my poor mother ; she perceived that my 
 father’s affection for me diminished daily, and the few and cold ca- 
 resses he bestowed upon me, were accompanied by an expression of 
 regret, characteristic of the pride of hereditary nobility, “ What a 
 pity it is not a boy.” This coldness of my father’s towards me 
 soon grew into a complete indifference. 
 
 This last blow was too much for my mother ; she lingered on a 
 few months longer, and died. 
 
 Ah ! how many and bitter tears I have shed listening to my 
 governess, while she described the last moments of that best of 
 mothers, and the fears which haunted her dying bed, for me — fears, 
 alas ! too soon verified — that I should fall into the hands of Made- 
 moiselle de Maran. 
 
 My mother was acquainted with my father’s weakness of 
 character, and she exacted an oath from my governess that she 
 would never leave me, and besides this she made my father promise 
 to keep Blondeau as my attendant. “ Alas !” said my mother to 
 that faithful creature, “ I foresee too well, my poor Matilda will 
 have no one but you in this world ; oh ! never forsake her.” 
 
 Pier dying words to my father were severe, touching, and 
 solemn — 
 
 “ I am dying very young ; I have suffered deeply ; I have never 
 complained, and I forgive all ; but you shall answer at God’s tri- 
 bunal for my child’s future fate.” 
 
 About a year after my mother’s death, my father was thrown 
 from his horse while on a hunting expedition with the Dauphin. 
 The accident was fatal, and I became an orphan at four years 
 old, and was confided to the care of my aunt as my nearest 
 relation. 
 
 To do Mademoiselle de Maran justice, she had loved my father 
 as much as she was capable of loving anything, and her conduct 
 towards my mother had been dictated by a jealousy of his affection, 
 a jealousy which turned at last into an actual hatred of her. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran was deeply affected at my father’s 
 death ; she shed many bitter tears, and her despair was violent, 
 though internal. From that time, her disposition became more 
 splenetic ; her wit more cutting, and her malice less compas- 
 sionate. I bore a striking likeness to my mother^ in every feature, 
 and my aunt, forgetting that I was the child of her beloved 
 brother, and seeing in me only the offspring of the woman she had 
 
44 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 abhorred, was resolved that I should inherit her hatred of my 
 mother. 
 
 ****** 
 
 During my childhood, Mademoiselle de Maran was almost inces- 
 santly an object of terror to me ; her long, thin, brownish face, and 
 her strongly marked features, were rendered still more harsh in ap- 
 pearance, by a string of false, black hair, which half-concealed her 
 forehead ; her eye-brows were grey and very thick ; her eyes, dark, 
 small) and piercing. 
 
 She wore, all the year through, a dress of carmelite silk, and a 
 bonnet of the same colour and stuff which she always kept on her 
 head, even before she was up in the morning, for she used to 
 breakfast, write, or read in bed, wrapped up in one of those night- 
 cloaks (also of carmelite silk) which were in fashion before the 
 revolution. 
 
 Every day, when the time was come for me to visit my aunt in 
 her room, I was seized with an involuntary trembling, and my 
 tears almost choked me. It required all the affection of my poor 
 Blondeau to persuade me to go to Mademoiselle de Maran ; and 
 she had even declared that if I continued to exhibit such alarm, she 
 should be obliged to leave me. Struck by this threat, I overcame 
 my terrors, checked my tears, and pressing Blondeau’s hand with 
 my little fingers, I set off with her for these formidable interviews. 
 We had first to pass through an ante-chamber, where my aunt’s 
 maitre <H hotel, whose name was Servien, was usually in attendance. 
 This man and Mademoiselle de Maran’s wolf-dog Felioc, were equally 
 objects of an insurmountable antipathy on my part. 
 
 Nearly half of Servien’s face was disfigured by a disgusting claret 
 stain ; his mouth was enormous, and his hands large and hairy. 
 Altogether, he gave me the idea of a thorough bred Ogre. 
 
 When Mademoiselle de Maran’s bed-room door was at length 
 opened, I held fast by Blondeau’s gown, and trembled as I ap- 
 proached the bed. Nor was my terror unreasonable, for Felix, a 
 little white wolf-dog, with sharp ears, immediately made his appear- 
 ance from under the quilt, and displayed, with a growl, two rows of 
 formidable teeth. This animal had several times bitten me till the' 
 blood came, and my aunt had only punished him by saying, in a 
 mildly reproving voice, while she cast an angry look at me, “ Come, 
 come, you foolish little fellow, let the brat alone ; don’t you see she 
 won’t play with you ?” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran was a well informed woman, and tho- 
 roughly versed in the politics of the day. I usually found her in 
 bed, in her night-gown and bonnet of carmelite silk, reading the 
 newspapers, or some great folio volume, supported on a reading- 
 desk. She invariably received me with a rebuke or a sneer. 
 
 These scenes were so often renewed, and have left so deep an 
 impression upon my mind, that even now I can recal them in their 
 slightest details, and I am the more particular in relating them, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 45 
 
 because the incessant terror which haunted my childish days, has 
 exercised a powerful influence over the remainder of my life. I 
 have even now before me, Mademoiselle de Maran’s chamber. 
 
 At the further end of the alcove, with its drapery of dark red 
 damask, was a large ivory crucifix, set off with greater effect, by a 
 frame of black velvet, and having its top formed by a death’s head, 
 also of ivory. This holy emblem, I believe merely to have been 
 placed there to save appearances, as I never recollect an instance of 
 my aunt’s going to mass. 
 
 Almost all the window panes were covered with bits of painted 
 glass ; among these I particularly recollect a decapitation of John 
 the Baptist, which has many a time haunted my childish dreams. 
 
 On the marble slab of a red lacquer scrutoire stood in a couple 
 of glass cases, the father and great grandfather of Felix, stuffed in 
 a most superior style, and those two motionless phantoms, with 
 their bright, enamel eyes, and their savage look, as if they were 
 ready to bite even in death, caused me, perhaps, more alarm than 
 their living descendant. 
 
 To me there seemed to be always something supernatural in the 
 look of those animals in glass cases, which never moved, never ate, 
 and were incessantly showing me their teeth. 
 
 Several ancient family portraits stood out from the grey wain- 
 scoting, one of which was a likeness of my great aunt, formerly 
 abbess of the Ursulines, at Blois, a cold, stern, countenance as pale 
 as the head-band of white cloth which enclosed her forehead and 
 cheeks. I was less struck with the other portraits which repre- 
 sented several of our ancestors in the court dresses or armour of 
 ages long gone by. 
 
 In conclusion, the chimney-piece was adorned with two hideous, 
 fantastical, green figures of China porcelain. These monsters were 
 kept continually moving by a hidden pendulum, which, at the same 
 time, set their horrid red eyes rolling in a frightful manner. 
 
 Fancy, my friend, a poor child five or six years old, in the midst 
 of all these mysterious wonders, and you will easily conceive 
 my alarm. 
 
 But alas ! all this was merely a prelude to much worse torments. 
 I was obliged, in spite of the barks and bites of Felix, to sit down 
 upon my aunt’s bed, and allow myself to be kissed by her. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran was a confirmed snuff-taker, and I never 
 could endure its smell. And yet, in spite of the terror and aversion 
 that I felt for my aunt, I could not help being touched at the marks 
 of affection she was desirous of bestowing upon me, and conse- 
 quently, I made incredible, but often useless efforts, to conquer 
 my fears. 
 
 I have since learned (and Mademoiselle de Maran’s conduct has 
 been but too plain a proof of her aversion) that she forced me to 
 undergo the infliction of this daily kiss, not from affection, but'for 
 the sake of diverting herself with my terrors. 
 
46 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 One scene, anong others, I shall never forget, and from it you will 
 be able to form an idea of my aunt’s disposition. 
 
 One day, I was taken to her, and, whether presentiment, or 
 chance, she had never appeared to me so spiteful ; I was afraid of 
 approaching, and hung down my head so low, that the long ringlets 
 of nay hair fell completely over my face. 
 
 At last Blondeau put me upon Mademoiselle de Maran’s bed ; 
 my aunt took me roughly by the arm, and angrily exclaimed — 
 
 “ Good God ! what a fool the child looks with her great, stupid 
 eyes, and her hair all over her face. Come, come, we must cut all 
 this fine hair short, like a boy’s.” 
 
 Madame Blondeau, who has since related all these particulars to 
 me, clasped her hands and exclaimed — 
 
 “ Holy Virgin, Mademoiselle ! it would be as bad as murder to 
 cut off Matilda’s beautiful fair hair ! Why, it comes down to her 
 very feet ! 
 
 “ Well,” replied my aunt, u that is just the reason ; if we don’t, 
 she will tumble over it— hold your tongue, and bring me a pair of 
 scissors.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Mademoiselle,” again urged Blondeau, with tears in her 
 eyes, “ do not do it, I entreat you. Mademoiselle must allow me 
 to say it would be almost an impious — a sacrilegious act.” 
 
 “ What do you mean ? What do you mean ■?” enquired my aunt, 
 in those shrill and imperious tones which made every one tremble 
 near her. 
 
 “ Mademoiselle,” my governess replied, with a faltering voice, 
 “ I was expressly commanded by the Marchioness never to cut her 
 daughter’s hair. Poor lady ! her own hair was so beautiful ! and 
 that had never been cut, and this was the reason that she gave me 
 this injunction, upon her very death-bed.” 
 
 After saying this the excellent Blondeau burst into tears. 
 
 “ You are an impertinent and good for nothing liar ! My sister- 
 in-law never talked such nonsense. Bring me a pair of scissors, 
 and hold your tongue.” 
 
 My aunt uttered the words, “ My sister-in-law ,” with such a 
 bitter expression of sarcasm, that I never afterwards heard her 
 pronounce those words without a painful feeling. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran appeared to be so irritated, that I should 
 not have been more terrified had my life itself been at stake. With 
 one hand she dragged me towards her, squeezing my arm as in a 
 vice, with her long, lean fingers, which were as hard as iron, while 
 with the other, she pulled out my comb, letting down my hair, 
 which soon covered my shoulders. Mute with terror, I had not 
 even strength enough to scream. 
 
 u Mademoiselle ! Mademoiselle !” exclaimed Blondeau, falling on 
 her knees, “ for Heaven’s sake do not do it ; Matilda will suffer 
 for it hereafter ; Mademoiselle, it is an act of disobedience to her 
 dying mother’s commands.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 47 
 
 “ Will you, or will you not, give me a pair of scissors, you 
 stupid beast V 
 
 “ Oh, my God ! my God ! Mademoiselle.” 
 
 Without saying another word, my aunt rang the bell, which was 
 answered by Servien. 
 
 “ Servien, bring me your large pantry scissors.” 
 
 “ Very well, Mademoiselle,” replied Servien, and he left the 
 
 room. 
 
 “ Mademoiselle !” energetically exclaimed my governess, “ I am 
 nothing but a poor servant, and you are the mistress in this house, 
 but I will die before my child’s hair shall be touched j” and 
 she approached the bed, to rescue me from my aunt’s grip. 
 
 Felix, irritated by this movement of Blondeau’s, flew at her, and 
 bit her in the cheek. 
 
 “ Ah ! the spiteful brute !” exclaimed Blondeau in a passion, 
 and, seizing Felix by the neck, she threw him violently down on 
 the floor. 
 
 The dog set up a most piteous yell, and I felt my aunt digging 
 her nails into my bare shoulder. 
 
 “ Get away with you ! get away ! you wretch," said Made- 
 moiselle de Maran, to Blondeau ; and then addressing herself to 
 Servien, who had just come in — 
 
 “ Turn that insolent woman out," she continued “ and come here 
 and hold this brat while I cut her hair off." 
 
 “ Pardon ! pardon ! Mademoiselle. I was in the wrong ; I forgot 
 myself ; but do have pity on Matilda ! Spare, oh, spare those 
 beautiful locks, on each of which, still lingers the touch of a dying 
 mother ; and shall that not make them sacred T 
 
 Such was poor Blondeau’s despairing invocation. 
 
 “ If you say another word, you leave my service ; do you hear ?" 
 was my aunt’s reply. 
 
 Blondeau was stupified at this threat ; she knew that Made- 
 moiselle de Maran was fully capable of keeping her word, and as 
 she would have submitted to anything sooner than leave me, she 
 resigned herself to the sacrifice. 
 
 Never shall I forget that scene ; it may appear trivial ; but to 
 me it was a horrible one. 
 
 Servien, with his hideously stained face, stood there with his 
 immense scissors open, and thinking he was going to kill me, I 
 uttered the most piercing shrieks. 
 
 “ Take her in your arms,” said my aunt, to Servien, and hold her 
 tight ; if she kicks about so, she will cut herself.” 
 
 Alas ! I could struggle no longer ; for I was almost insensible. 
 
 Blondeau hid her face, and sobbed ; and Servien took me with 
 his great hands. 
 
 I shut my eyes and shuddered, when I felt the cold steel touch 
 my neck ; I heard the grinding noise of the scissors, and I felt my 
 hair falling down all round. 
 
48 
 
 THE ORPHAN . 
 
 When the execution was completed my aunt said to Servien with 
 a hearty laugh — 
 
 “ Well done ; she looks like a frightful little singing boy now ; 
 call one of the house-maids, Servien, to sweep away those fine 
 locks.” 
 
 Blondeau, trembling all over, asked leave to pick up the hair and 
 keep it ; my aunt consented, and ordered her to take me away. 
 Just as I was leaving the room, Mademoiselle de Maran had me 
 brought back again, she looked at me for a minute, and exclaimed, 
 with another loud laugh— 
 
 “ My God ! what an ugly little wretch it is now !” 
 
 When I and Blondeau had got back to the chamber which we 
 occupied in common, she took me in her arms, kissed me, and wept 
 over me. 
 
 I had been so terrified at the sight of Servien’s great scissors, 
 that the close of the scene seemed to me almost a happy one. I 
 did not share my governess’s admiration and respect for my flowing 
 locks ; indeed, I may own that I was rather pleased at being able 
 to run about in the garden, without having to put my hair out 
 of my eyes every minute. My aunt’s last words had made most 
 impression upon me, “ what an ugly little wretch it is now !” I 
 entreated my governess to take me before a looking-glass, and 
 I was such a singular figure, that to Blondeau’s great annoyance 
 I burst into a laugh myself. I afterwards was able to account for 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s singular behaviour. She had always felt a 
 profound antipathy and aversion for everything that was beautiful, 
 and I may say, my friend, without vanity, or rather if I may believe 
 the blind affection of my governess, that I was really a lovely 
 child. My aunt, moreover, had always detested my mother, and 
 alas ! I afterwards made some very painful discoveries relative to 
 that feeling. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A PROTECTOR. 
 
 I was now seven years old, and my aunt’s aversion appeared to 
 increase. There was no petty torment that she did not delight in 
 inflicting upon me. For instance, I had always dined in my gover- 
 ness’s room ; but now my aunt insisted upon my dining at her own 
 table ; she alwas placed her snuff-box open close to my plate, to my 
 ineffable disgust ; if I had a dislike to any particular dish, it was 
 put before me day after day, and if I was unable to repress my 
 disgust, Mademoiselle de Maran had my plate put in Felix’s kennel, 
 and I had then, in spite of my terror, to crawl on my hands and 
 knees, to fetch this food, and afterwards to eat it upon my knees • 
 my aunt observing that the presence of my good Blondeau gave me 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 49 
 
 courage to endure all these annoyances, without a tear, forbade her 
 to wait upon me at table, and Servien, the matire d'hotel, the man 
 for whom I entertained equal terror and disgust, was made to re- 
 place her ; when I now reflect upon those days, I am at a loss to 
 ’conceive how my aunt, in spite of her various occupations, and her 
 real superiority of intellect, could employ such refined calculations 
 and such perseverance in tormenting an unfortunate child, for 
 nothing was left to chance ; but her behaviour to me was studied 
 and systematic. 
 
 By degress I became hardened in my sorrows, and my sufferings 
 inspired me with a thirst for revenge. 
 
 I observed that the more I cried, the more merry and con- 
 tented my aunt appeared ; and by dint of the greatest exertions, 
 
 I succeeded in restraining myself, and in concealing my tears. My 
 aunt’s suprise and spite, when she observed this, gave me the 
 greatest delight ; and as she increased her harsh treatment, I 
 increased my endurance and dissimulation in a proportionate 
 degree. 
 
 I shudder sometimes even now, when I think of this open contest 
 between a forsaken child and such a woman as Mademoiselle de 
 Maran — a contest in which I ended by being victor, for my aunt’s 
 spitefulness could not exceed a certain limit. 
 
 Every servant in the house trembled in heT presence, and my 
 poor governess was exposed to a thousand little annoyances every 
 day. The poor woman’s devotion to me must have been really 
 heroic, or she could never have endured so many vexations ; my 
 aunt had twice endeavoured to separate us ; but I became so dan- 
 gerously ill in consequence, that she was obliged to give up this 
 favourite project. , 
 
 Whether through intention or negligence of my aunt, I do not 
 know ; but at seven years of age, I had never had a master. My 
 governess had taught me to read and write ; I said my prayers and 
 catechism to her, and received, thanks to that good creature’s 
 almost motherly affection, such an education as a person of her 
 class would bestow upon her daughter. 
 
 Children are never deceived in the feelings and dispositions of 
 those who surround them ; their penetration is most embarrassing, 
 and when they know they are loved, they are incredibly adroit in 
 establishing their despotism. I was as gay, riotous, and tyrannical 
 with my governess, as I was silent and timid in the presence of 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. Blondeau never opposed my most extra- 
 vagant whims, unless in a case of risk to my health ; her love for 
 me was actual idolatry, and she was never tired of praising my 
 beauty, wit, and pretty ways. 
 
 My childhood was spent in this manner, between the taunts and 
 harsh treatment of my aunt, and the blind flatteries of Blondeau, 
 and of course my disposition shared the influences of both. I was 
 
50 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 by turns, proud or humble to the very extreme, radiant with happi- 
 ness, or a prey to bitter grief, and I was capable of hatred and 
 love to a degree incredible at my age. The very brutality of my 
 aunt was not displeasing to me, because it afforded me the means of 
 defying and enraging her by my composure. Mademoiselle de 
 . Maran revenged herself by persuading me, with infinite artfulness, 
 that I was ugly and stupid. On such occasions I repressed my 
 tears till I had hurried to my governess, when I burst into sobs, and 
 then, to console me, the poor woman praised me most outrageously, 
 and I ended by believing her extravagant commendations. 
 
 Hence, doubtless, arose the extreme force of feeling, and inability 
 to steer that middle course so frequently essential in this life, for 
 which I was afterwards so remarkable. 
 
 Nor has age modified in me this strange mode of self judgment. 
 Instead of choosing a rational medium between two exaggerations — 
 instead of thinking myself neither altogether inferior, nor altoge- 
 ther superior to the rest of the world, I have passed my existence 
 in a continual alternative of the most insolent confidence, or the 
 most humiliating distrust in myself. The triumphs I had achieved, 
 and the humiliations I had endured, were alike powerless in pre- 
 venting, on the one hand a ridiculous self-abasement — on the other, 
 a disdainful haughtiness. Even in the most ordinary intercourse 
 of life, the first word, the first look made me the slave, or the 
 tyrant. There are people in whose presence the boldest trembled, 
 so feared were they, and so deserving of that fear, and those I have 
 always completely overawed, while others, most contemptible in 
 every respect, have ruled me with most despotic influence. Another 
 indelible relic of my early education, has been the habit and incli- 
 nation of dissembling my sorrows or my sufferings, and of re- 
 venging the evil done me, by wearing a mask of contemptuous 
 indifference. 
 
 ****** 
 
 I was not, I believe, quite seven years old when my education 
 was completely changed. The events which occasioned this do- 
 mestic revolution are still present to my memory. I had been 
 wholly given up to my aunt’s care, by the advice of my guardian, 
 Baron D’Orbeval, a rather distant relation of my mother’s, and 
 whom I rarely saw. 
 
 When he visited Mademoiselle de Maran, I was sent for ; the 
 shabby frock, which my aunt always insisted upon my wearing, was 
 taken off ; rather more attention than usual was paid to my toilet, 
 and I was brought into my Guardian’s presence. 
 
 The Baron was a tall, pale, weasel-faced old man ; he wore a 
 carefully curled flaxen wig, a green silk shade, and a wadded coat, 
 of puce-coloured silk, very much the worse for wear ; he was a 
 Counsellor at the Cour de Cassation, and a great miser. When I 
 was brought up to him, he used to look at me with severity, and 
 to ask me if I had been a good girl ? This question, my aunt 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 51 
 
 usually was kind enough to answer, by saying I was obstinate, 
 stupid and idle. My guardian would then give me a smart tap on 
 the cheek, and say — This is very naughty, young lady, very 
 naughty, indeed. If you go on in this way, we must send you 
 to a charity school.” 
 
 I then used to burst into tears, and was carried off by Blondeau. 
 
 I had not had a visit from my guardian for three or four months, 
 when one day a gentleman, still young, and a stranger to me, en- 
 tered my room, on seeing whom, Blondeau exclaimed, clasping her 
 hands, and with an expression of surprise and joy — 
 
 “ Good God ! it is you — it is you, Monsieur de Mortagne !” 
 
 The gentleman, without answering my governess, took me in his 
 arms, gazed at me in silence, with a kind of eager curiosity, and 
 after having tenderly embraced me, put me down again, saying, 
 while he brushed away a tear — “ What a likeness ! what a like- 
 ness !” He then fell into a fit of musing. 
 
 I thought the stranger’s countenance such a kind one, in spite of 
 the severity of his features, he had betrayed such evident emotion 
 while gazing at me, and his presence appeared to delight Blondeau 
 so much, that I drew close up to him without any fear. He was 
 a first cousin of my mother’s, had been travelling for several years, 
 and had only just returned to France. 
 
 The Count de Mortagne was looked upon as a very strange man ; 
 he had served with very great distinction under the empire ; but 
 since then he had led an incessantly wandering life, which the world 
 could not understand. 
 
 He had travelled through the Old World and the New, and was 
 said to be a man of prodigious knowledge, iron resoluteness, and 
 unflinching courage ; his frankness, however, which was almost 
 brutal, had permitted him to make but few friends. 
 
 His affection for my mother had been that of the most attached 
 brother. Several times he had endeavoured to make my father 
 appreciate all the value of the treasure he was neglecting, while he 
 followed the ambitious advice of his sister ; hence my aunt enter- 
 tained a deep-rooted aversion to Monsieur de Mortagne ; but being 
 a member of my family junto, and as such, being entrusted with the 
 protection of my interests, he was sometimes, of necessity, brought 
 into contact with Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 He had been absent in India for four years, and his first visit, on 
 arriving at Paris, was to me. 
 
 Fie could not look at me, admire me, and praise me enough, and 
 overwhelmed Blondeau with questions. 
 
 “Was I happy 1 Was I educated in a manner befitting my 
 station 1 What masters had I h I ought to know a great deal at 
 seven years old ; I looked so intelligent, he was sure I must have 
 profited greatly by their instructions ?” 
 
 My poor governess was almost afraid to reply ; at last she 
 confessed the truth with tears. “ The little I knew, she 
 e 3 
 
52 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 had taught me ; Mademoiselle de Maran grew more harsh and 
 unjust towards me every day ; I was allowed none of the pleasures 
 natural to my age, and — what exasperated Blondeau more than 
 anything — I was never dressed in a manner befitting the daughter 
 of the Marchioness de Maran.” 
 
 Monsieur de Mortagne's indignation increased at every word my 
 governess uttered. 
 
 He was a man of lofty stature and always carelessly dressed. 
 Although scarcely forty years old, he was already bald, and he wore 
 a long beard, an uncommon thing in those days, though now so 
 fashionable an appendage. The roughness of his manners, the 
 soldier-like boldness of his language, and his wild and singular ex- 
 pression of countenance, had acquired for him, in society, the nick- 
 name of “ The Danube Boor .” 
 
 His politics were those of the greatest radicals of the period, 
 and he never concealed his opinions, though well meaning persons 
 had often advised him to use more moderation in their display. 
 
 He could hide, when he chose, the most bitter irony, beneath an 
 appearance of artless good-nature ; but his language was, in general, 
 rough, harsh, and almost brutal. 
 
 When my governess had acquainted Monsieur de Mortagne with 
 the manner in which I had been brought up by my aunt, my 
 cousin’s face, which was sunburnt by an Indian climate, turned 
 purple with passion ; after a few hurried steps to and fro, he took 
 me suddenly in his arms, and proceeded towards Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s room, exclaiming — 
 
 “ Ah ! this is the way, then, she treats my poor cousin’s child ! 
 I will say a word or two to her myself, and in a pretty loud 
 voice, too !” 
 
 “ For Heaven's sake, Monsieur le Comte, be careful,” said my 
 governess, following him with a look of terror. 
 
 “ Make yourself easy, Madame Blondeau,” was his reply ; “ it 
 takes more than this to frighten me ! I have crushed reptiles 
 under my feet that were more venemous than Mademoiselle de 
 Maran.” 
 
 He then kissed me twice, and said — “ Poor child, your lot .shall 
 soon be changed.” 
 
 Never shall I forget the joy I felt when I guessed my protector 
 was about to avenge me for all my aunt’s spiteful tricks. In my 
 delight and gratitude, I threw my arms around Monsieur de Mor- 
 lagne's neck, and fancying I was conferring an important service, 
 I whispered — 
 
 “ My aunt's dog Felix, sir, is as spiteful as herself, and you must 
 take great care, or he will bite you till the blood comes.” 
 
 “ If he bites me, my little Matilda, I will throw him out of the 
 window,” was Monsieur de Montagne's reply, and he kissed me 
 again. 
 
 I began to look upon Monsieur de Mortagne as a hero, and for 
 the first time, I felt the burning pleasure of revenge. 
 

 
THE ORPHIN. 
 
 53 
 
 Servien was/ as usual in the waiting-room, which served as an 
 ante-chamber to his mistress's bed-room. Monsieur de Mortagne, 
 followed by Blondeau, was about to open the door, when the maitre 
 d'hotel got up and said — 
 
 “ I do not know, sir, whether you can see Mademoiselle.” 
 
 Monsieur de Mortagne, without answering, pushed him back with 
 his elbow, and entered my aunt’s room, who, as usual, was sitting 
 up in bed in her night-gown and bonnet of carmelUe silk, reading 
 the newspaper. 
 
 Monsieur de Mortagne had entered so abruptly and noisily, that 
 he alarmed Felix, who flew out from his kennel, and commenced a 
 resolute attack upon my protector’s legs. 
 
 “ Take care — take care,” I whispered ; “ here comes the 
 spiteful dog.” 
 
 “ Here's something for him,” replied my avenger, and with a 
 vigorous kick, he sent Felix sprawling under the bed. 
 
 My aunt, already greatly irritated at the entrance of Monsieur 
 de Mortagne, whom she detested, was still more incensed at the 
 yells of her favourite, and she angrily exclaimed — 
 
 “ This conduct, sir, is unheard of ! How dare you take my 
 chamber by storm in this way, and half kill my dog ? Do you 
 take my house for a barracks T 
 
 Monsieur de Mortagne has often since described this scene 
 to me. 
 
 He coolly satdown by the side of Mademoiselle de Maran’s bed, 
 holding me upon his knees, and replied — 
 
 “ This is not a question, Madame, of dogs, or taking by storm ; 
 but of your cruelty towards this unfortunate child, to whom you 
 have acted a step-mother's part.” 
 
 “ What's all this % — what’s all this T haughtily answered my 
 aunt. “ Have you come back all the way from the antipodes, sir, 
 to show off your impertinence to me ! It is no reason because you 
 look like a Hottentot, and enjoy a well deserved reputation for clown- 
 ishness, that I should suffer myself to be insulted and brow-beaten in 
 my own house — do you hear, sir V 
 
 “ Nor,” replied Monsieur de Mortagne, who always returned my 
 aunt's abuse with interest, “ is it any reason because you have the 
 good luck to unite in yourself the ugliness and wickedness of the 
 late Duke de Gesvres, with the deformity and wit of an HSsop, 
 that I should put up with your insolence — do you hear, Ma- 
 dame r 
 
 My aunt grew pale with passion, and exclaimed — 
 
 “ Have a care, sir ; when I hate, I hate well, and when I hate, I 
 manage to let it be felt.” 
 
 “ I know you have powerful friends and dangerous tools at your 
 service ; but I have need of none, and fear none ; from me you 
 shall have the truth, and if it hurts you, so much the worse for you. 
 
 I have spoken it before to many others who survived it — the more's 
 
54 
 
 THB OKPHAN 
 
 the pity ; in a word, this child has been disgracefully brought up, 
 and her education has been so neglected, that I blush on your ac- 
 count. Do you feel no shame at treating your own brother’s 
 daughter in such a manner T 
 
 These words stirred up at once, my aunt's affection for my father, 
 and her hatred of my mother. She exclaimed — 
 
 “ And it is precisely because my brother's memory is sacred to 
 me, that I treat that little brat in the way that I choose to treat 
 her. She has been placed under my care ; I am only responsible 
 to her guardian for my conduct, so, sir, you may carry your inso- 
 lence somewhere else, for what goes on here is no business of 
 yours.” 
 
 “ It is so far my business that, as a member of the family council, 
 I shall, this very day, call an assembly of the relations, and we 
 shall then find out whether your niece has hitherto received that 
 education to which she is entitled.” 
 
 This threat appeared to take a good deal of effect upon Made- 
 moiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ Come here, child, and answer for yourself,” said "my aunt, 
 making me a sign to come to her. 
 
 Instead of obeying, I nestled still closer to Monsieur de Mor- 
 tagne, and looked up to him with an imploring air. 
 
 “ You see very well,” said Monsieur de Mortagne, “ that you 
 frighten her out of her life, with your pretended kindnesses. It 
 is for you, and not this child, to answer. She has not one single 
 master ; she scarcely knows what the children of the lower classes 
 are proficient in at her age ; you deny her the clothes that are 
 suitable to her station ; and yet, Heaven knows, you are paid 
 enough to take care of her.” 
 
 “ What do you mean ? Me paid, indeed !” indignantly exclaimed 
 my aunt. 
 
 “ I mean that you are allowed a thousand francs a month out of 
 this poor child's fortune, for her expenses, and it is easy to perceive, 
 from the way in which she is clothed and instructed, that you do 
 not spend a hundred louis a year upon her. What do you do with 
 the rest 1 If you have pocketted it, you may rest assured that T 
 will make you account for it. It is no reason because you are 
 thoroughly wicked, that you should be a thorough miser as well." 
 
 “ Well, this is beyond all endurance ! If one did not know, sir, 
 you were half mad, one should be inclined to have you thrown out 
 of the window ! What accounts have I to render you, indeed ? 
 What do you mean by these impertinent holy-inquisition sort of 
 airs 1" exclaimed Mademoiselle de _ Maran, moving violently in 
 her bed. 
 
 “ I tell you, I am her relation — her counsellor — do you hear what 
 I say A replied Monsieur de Mortagne, in a voice of thunder, “ and 
 in that capacity, I will summon you before a mating of the family 
 to answer for your conduct. If I do not obtain justice at their 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 55 
 
 hands against you, I will take it into my own, and we will look at 
 one another full in the face, which will be by no means an agreeable 
 occupation for me. You are a complete monster.” 
 
 “ Ah ! the abominable man ! his brutality will make me quite 
 ill. What a way to treat a defenceless woman !” said my aunt in 
 a dolorous voice. 
 
 “ Pooh ! pooh ! madame, you have long made one forget the 
 compassion which old age, ugliness, and infirmities should claim, by 
 your own audacious attacks and malicious slanders. Come, come, 
 you are no longer a woman.” 
 
 “No longer a woman, indeed ! What am I, then ? A unicorn, 
 perhaps. You are really too mad, sir, to be at large ! Get out of 
 my house — get out of my house ! I do not wish to make any dis- 
 turbance before my servants, otherwise — 
 
 “ Otherwise, madame, it would be just the same ; you would only 
 have the advantage of some witnesses. Listen to my last words — 
 I shall call upon every member of the family council, in order to 
 persuade them (and I shall succeed) to take this unhappy child out 
 of your hands, and place her in a school, or a convent.” 
 
 “ And,” ironically replied Mademoiselle de Maran, “ to put the 
 finish to this fine exploit, you, sir, will, doubtless, be employed to 
 select the convent. It is a great pity there is no establishment 
 of female Jacobins ; you would put her there directly ; would 
 you not 1 In remembrance of the 1 brothers and friends' of 93, 
 whose history you are so partial to, you would call her Mamselle 
 Scipionne, or Mamselle Egalite ; Mamselle , did I say % No, no ; 
 I meant citoyenne. Unfortunately those good times are past ; and 
 now-a-days, sir, once for all, there is no indulgence for people who 
 presume to set up their own opinions against those of other well 
 intentioned persons.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran laid such a stress upon these last words, 
 that Monsieur de Mortagne understood their drift. 
 
 “ Ah !” he exclaimed, “ here we are, then, at last ; I was much 
 surprised that you had not already called me Jacobin, or Bona- 
 partist, two names, however, which do not harmonise particu- 
 larly well. I know that you are treacherous enough to make my 
 accusation a party question, in the family assembly ; I know 
 that your relations, the ultras, are numerous there ; I know, 
 also, that they blindly follow your counsels, and it is probable that, 
 in this circumstance, they will make as criminal a usage of their 
 majority, as they do in every other.” 
 
 And embracing me with a tender emotion, Monsieur de Mor- 
 tagne added sadly — 
 
 “ Poor child ! Poor France !" 
 
 “ God bless my soul !" exclaimed my aunt, bursting out into one 
 of her bitter and insolent laughs ; “ God bless my soul ! what a 
 superb and touching speech — -what a happy union of subjects — 
 
 ‘ Poor child l Poor France /’ The tender-hearted Saint, Just, I 
 
56 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 believe, used to employ those pretty pastoral" expressions, at the 
 Club of the Cordeliers , which, however, did not prevent him from 
 cutting your head off the next morning. Yes — yes, sir, I can see 
 by your fury, that if it depended upon you, you would treat me like 
 those poor ‘friends and brothers' For really, in spite of your birth, 
 you were deserving of a place in their ranks ; you were one of the 
 gentlemen of the Loire." 
 
 Monsieur de Mortagne has told me that, effectively, the cold and 
 bitter sarcasms uttered by my aunt, put him beside himself ; and 
 he regretted the brutal answer he made her. 
 
 (i It is a fact, when I think that you made my poor cousin de Maran 
 die of a broken heart — when I think that you torture an unhappy 
 child with diabolical malice, I ask myself why a thing so morally 
 and physically unnatural as yourself, should not be put beyond the 
 pale of society's laws, as it already is beyond those of nature." 
 
 “ Enough of your insults ! Get out, sir, get out !" exclaimed 
 Mademoiselle de Maran with such an explosion of fury, that when 
 Monsieur de Mortagne wanted to put me on the ground as he got 
 up, I clung to him with all my strength and entreated him not to 
 leave me with my aunt. He placed me in my governess's arms, who 
 had been a silent and unnoticed spectator of this scene, and we all 
 three went out, leaving Mademoiselle de Maran in a state of rage 
 difficult to describe. 
 
 -o 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A FAMILY COUNCIL. 
 
 I had not understood much of my aunt’s and Monsieur de Mor- 
 tagne's conversation ; I was only rejoiced to hear my protector 
 speak in such a firm manner to Mademoiselle de Maran. I now 
 anticipated some happy change in my situation. To most children 
 the idea of entering a convent or a school, would have been alarm- 
 ing ; to me, on the contrary, it was a very agreeable one, as the. 
 sole wish of my heart was to leave my aunt’s house. The council 
 would have to decide whether I should remain or not, in the power 
 of Mademoiselle de Maran, and I prayed most earnestly that Mon- 
 sieur de Mortagne might succeed in his intentions. The fatal day 
 at last arrived, my aunt had me carefully dressed, and I was taken 
 down into the drawing-room, where the members of our family 
 were assembled. 
 
 I looked round for M. de Mortagne ; but he was not yet ar- 
 rived ; my aunt placed me between herself and my guardian, M. 
 d’Orbeval. 
 
 All our relations appeared to dread Mademoiselle de Maran, and 
 paid her the most obsequious respect. She was known to possess 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 57 
 
 great influence, and her drawing-room was the resort of the most 
 powerful members of the Government ; the Princes, also, showed 
 her great favour, out of respect for Louis the Eighteenth. 
 
 M. de Talleyrand used often to divide his evenings between my 
 aunt and the Princess de Vaudemont. That great statesman, who, 
 as my aunt said, with great reason “ had raised silence to the rank 
 of eloquence ; talent to that of genius, and experience to that of 
 divination,” conversed, sometimes for an hour together, tete-a-tete 
 with Mademoiselle de Maran, who was one of those women to whom 
 the highest names are almost compelled to pay tribute. Children 
 are swayed by appearances more than anything ; they cannot ac- 
 count for the power of genius and intrigue, and for a long time, 
 therefore, I found it impossible to understand how Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, with her insignificant and almost grotesque figure, could 
 exercise so much influence over persons who were not of necessity 
 dependant upon her. My aunt’s head, when she was sitting down, 
 being nearly on a level with her left shoulder, which was much 
 higher than the right one, did not rise above the back of a common 
 arm-chair, and her feet, invariably covered by black beaver shoes, 
 rested upon a very high cushion, of which, Felix had his share. 
 And yet, notwithstanding her ugliness and spiteful disposition, 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s rooms were nightly filled with the very 
 elite of of Paris society, and she would haughtily rebuke those 
 persons who let a day or two pass without coming to see her. On 
 these occasions the bitterness and harshness of her reproaches 
 pretty clearly proved that her pride, and not her affection, was 
 interested in the homage paid her. 
 
 All had now arrived, but M. de Mortagne, who soon afterwards 
 made his appearance ; my heart beat when I saw him, for on him 
 depended my future fate. 
 
 I was not slow in observing that M. de Mortagne was coldly re- 
 ceived by my relations. Although his originality was well known, 
 there was a good deal of whispering aud smiling at his beard and 
 careless exterior ; my aunt’s aversion for him, too, was notorious, 
 and consequently, to laugh at him was a delicate way of flatter- 
 ing her. 
 
 After a few minutes’ silence, my guardian, M. d’Orbeval, re- 
 quested M. de Mortagne to mention the reasons he had deemed 
 sufficient to call for a family assemblage. M. de Mortagne repeated 
 what he had tol 1 my aunt, and in the same unmeasured termes, and 
 ended by domanding that I should be placed in the convent des 
 Anglaises , which was at that time in as great vogue as the Sacre- 
 Coeur was at a later period. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran betray no emotion during this violent 
 accusation. Our relations, who were completely under her in- 
 fluence, were dreadfully afraid of her ; they several times, by 
 murmurs and interruptions, testified their indignation against M. 
 de Mortagne, rnd turning their looks towards my aunt, they ap- 
 
58 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 peared to take her as a witness that they protested against the 
 brutality of ray protectors language. 
 
 He, however, thoroughly indifferent to all their mutterings, 
 merely shrugged his shoulders now and then, waited till the noise 
 had ceased, and then began again, in language as strong as ever. 
 
 He must have, indeed, been a brave man, to attack Mademoiselle 
 de Maran in such a manner ; for, situated as she was, and with 
 such powerful protectors, she possessed a thousand means of in- 
 juring him, and avenging herself. Alas ! she proved but too well 
 to M. de Mortagne, that the hatred she bore him was implacable. 
 I was then a mere child ; but still I can recollect a circumstance 
 which, in spite of its insignificance, struck me at the time, and the 
 importance of which, I can fully appreciate now. 
 
 During this debate, my aunt’s countenance had exhibited no 
 emotion ; she held in her hands a long knitting needle, and as 
 M. de Mortagne proceeded with his speech, Mademoiselle de Maran 
 seemed to squeeze this needle tighter and tighter with her skinny 
 fingers. At last, at the instant when he exclaimed, that if nothing 
 was more respectable than ugliness, old age, and infirmities, nothing, 
 at the same time, was more cowardly, than to abuse these three 
 lamentable prerogatives, in insulting, with impunity, those who 
 called one to account for one’s disgraceful and cruel conduct, 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, as if by accident, broke the needle into 
 pieces, and I shall never forget the deadly glance which she cast on 
 M. de Mortagne at that instant. 
 
 My guardian took it upon himself, in the name of the majority, 
 to reply to my aunt’s antagonist, and he severely blamed my pro- 
 tector’s language, who seemed to care very little for this reproof. 
 M. d’Orbeval next, with a most respectful manner, and merely as a 
 matter of form, enquired of Mademoiselle de Maran if she thought 
 it necessary to make any alterations in my education, hastening, 
 however, to add that the assembled relations trusted implicitly, 
 beforehand, to her decision on a subject which she was more capable 
 of appreciating than any one. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, without alluding to M. de Mortagne’s 
 attacks, replied in a most artful and adroit manner. I was effec- 
 tively, she said, not what people call much advanced, my head was 
 weak, my understanding imperfectly developed, and under these 
 circumstances she had not thought it right to weary my intellect 
 to no good purpose, by overwhelming me with lessons which I was 
 not in a condition to profit by, and which would, of necessity, have 
 given me a distate to learning ; on the contrary, she had made my 
 health her first object, and that, thank God, was excellent, so that 
 I was now in a perfect condition to regain the time I had lost, 
 without having to bear the fatigue of too intense study. She 
 concluded by saying, that before the family assemblage had been 
 convoked it was her intention to make me commence my studies 
 without delay. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 59 
 
 M. de Mortagne has often told me that it was impossible to make 
 a more adroit defence than my aunt’s, or to give a more specious 
 colouring to her treatment of me. She proved to demonstration 
 that by economising a good deal during the first years of my edu- 
 cation, she had wished to lay by the means of giving me hereafter 
 a much more extensive and complete one, and she added that it 
 was natural I should be dull in the house of an old and infirm 
 aunt, but that she could not believe my relations wished me to enter 
 a convent, when she had promised my father that she would never 
 forsake me. 
 
 In order, however, to make matters smooth, and that I might 
 have a companion of my own age, my aunt announced that at her 
 request my guardian had consented to withdraw his own daughter 
 from her convent and to place her under my aunt’s care. M. 
 d’Orbeval was a widower, and thus his daughter would share my 
 studies, and take up her abode at Mademoiselle de Maran’s. 
 
 M. de Mortagne replied with his usual blunt frankness, that in 
 that case, I should pay the expenses of Mademoiselle d’Orbeval’s 
 education, who was by no means rich, and he asserted that her 
 father had only consented to this arrangement from motives of 
 interest, coupled with fear of my aunt, who had it in her power to 
 injure him or to do him service. 
 
 M. de Mortagne continued, that under any other circumstances 
 he should have made no objection to the private education which 
 I was intended to receive in common with my young relation, but 
 that he had strong reasons to believe Mademoiselle de Maran’s in- 
 fluence would be pernicious to me, and that after having tormented 
 my childhood, she would, perhaps, ruin my youth. 
 
 He was interrupted by indignant murmurs. My guardian ex- 
 claimed that his daughter should never set foot in my aunt’s house ; 
 that he had only agreed to the proposals which had been made to 
 him for my interest, but that he now withdrew his promise, since so 
 vile an interpretation was put upon his kindness. However, the 
 whole assembly having united with Mademoiselle de Maran in ap- 
 peasing Baron d’Orbeval, and in blaming M. de Mortagne, my 
 guardian promised to allow his daughter to come. This exasperated 
 M. de Mortagne to such a degree, that he forgot himself so far as 
 to declare there was not a man of courage in the assembly ; but that 
 they all trembled at Mademoiselle de Maran’s power. As my pro- 
 tector offered to maintain this declaration at the sword’s point, 
 there was but one clamour of indignation against this bully, who 
 wanted to make brute force predominate in a family consultation, 
 and who showed no respect to sex or old age. 
 
 M. de Mortagne, in the highest degree incensed, came up to me, 
 and kissed me tenderly, saying, “ My poor child, we shall soon meet 
 again ; may God protect you from that vile woman, and her syco- 
 phants, I can see they have at present numbers and the law on 
 
60 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 their side ; but patience — patience — I will find a way to save you, 
 in spite of them.” He kissed me again and departed. 
 
 When he was gone, the general indignation increased, and soon 
 gave way to a feeling of contemptuous pity. Those of my rela- 
 tions who were in a position to take up M. de Mortagne’s challenge, 
 and who had not done so, from fear of my aunt, and not from want 
 of courage, asserted that M. de Mortagne was not right in the 
 head, and that it was impossible to call him to a serious account 
 for his follies. 
 
 Although much grieved at my protector’s defeat, my thoughts 
 turned almost with joy to my promised companion. I looked at 
 her father, M. d’Orbeval, with less uneasiness, and even mustered 
 up courage enough to ask my aunt when my cousin would 
 arrive. 
 
 To my great surprise, Mademoiselle de Maran replied, without 
 ill nature, and almost affectionately, that Mademoiselle Ursula 
 d’Orbeval would come very shortly. 
 
 This intelligence filled me with joy ; had my life been a happier 
 one, I might, pherhaps, have regarded my cousin’s arrival with a 
 feeling of jealousy ; but situated as I was, I could not but believe 
 that it would operate a favourable diversion in my position. 
 
 From that day, Mademoiselle de Maran completely changed her 
 behaviour to me. I had now the first masters in Paris ; but, from 
 a motive, which I afterwards discovered, my aunt still suffered 
 Madame Blondeau to retain the place of governess to me, although 
 that good woman was far from possessing the knowledge necessary 
 to fill that office, now that my education was so much more culti- 
 vated. I now, however, had my own lady’s maid, and instead of 
 my former shabby clothes, my aunt insisted upon my dressing with 
 a splendour and elegance unsuited to my age. I remember my 
 surprise and delight at finding one day in my room, a full-length 
 'psyche and a toilet table a la Duchesse , bordered all round, with a 
 profusion of ribbands and lace. Instead of perpetual scoldings and 
 exclamations at my ugliness and stupidity, my aunt suddenly began 
 to overwhelm me with the most exaggerated praises of my beauty, 
 my figure, the elegance of my deportment, my wit and talents. 
 
 As I was naturally much astonished at this sudden change of 
 manners, Mademoiselle de Maran told me confidentially that had I 
 been made acquainted with these delightful facts while I was an 
 idle little girl, my self love would have been dangerously excited ; 
 but now that I was so assiduous at my studies, I was informed, by 
 way of reward, that there was not in the whole world anything more 
 charming than myself. 
 
 The lady’s maid whom my aunt had provided for me was con- 
 stantly repeating the same compliments ; in short, throughout the 
 establishment, every one — not excepting even Servien — rivalled one 
 another in flattering me. 
 
 My poor Blondeau, with that instinct and sagacity of the heart 
 
THE ORPHAN 1 . 
 
 61 
 
 which a true affection always bestows, was alarmed at this sudden 
 change in my aunt’s conduct, and it was her turn then to scold me, 
 and to reprove me for paying too much attention to my dress, and 
 too little to my prayers, and for the pride and capriciousness which 
 I displayed. 
 
 In spite of my attachment for this excellent woman, her remon- 
 strances displeased me, and were more painful, from their contrast 
 with the idolatrous affection she had before professed towards me. 
 I felt that my attachment towards her was cooling, and on the 
 other hand, my confidence increased in Mademoiselle Julie, my 
 lady’s maid, who never omitted an opportunity of irritating me 
 against my governess. 
 
 In spite of Mademoiselle de Maran’s obliging conduct towards me, 
 I was still unable to surmount the terror and aversion with which 
 she had inspired me, though I used every endeavour to do so think- 
 ing that in common gratitude I was bound to show her some 
 affection. 
 
 In the mean time, while my education rapidly advanced, and I 
 studied drawing, music, as well as the English and Italian languages, 
 with the utmost assiduity, that I might not find myself too inferior 
 to my cousin Ursula d’Orbeval, whose arrival my aunt was inces- 
 santly putting off. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran very seldom went out ; but she sent me 
 almost every day to take a drive in her carriage, in the hois de 
 Boulogne , accompanied by Mademoiselle Julie, for whom I made 
 no secret of my preference, and who, during the whole drive, never 
 ceased repeating that I was admired by every body. 
 
 In short, no one would have recognised me a year after my aunt 
 had paid such particular attention to my education. I had gained 
 a good deal of instruction, and my intelligence had developed itself, 
 but the seed of evil passions was at work in my heart. Notwith- 
 standing the ivory crucifix which adorned my aunt’s alcove, she 
 never, to all appearance, attended any religious rites, but contented 
 herself with sending me to attend mass at the church of Saint 
 Thomas d? A quin, with one of her female servants. 
 
 I was always followed by a footman, who carried an emblazoned 
 cushion for my feet, and a velvet bag, in which was my prayer- 
 book, an ostentation as ridiculous as unbecoming in a child of my 
 age ; and I often heard it observed as I passed along, “ Made- 
 moiselle de Maran carries her blind fondness for that niece of hers 
 to the verge of madness.” 
 
 I began to believe in this affection ; and, indeed, it was every- 
 where said, that my aunt idolised me, and that if I turned out 
 badly, it would be all owing to her blindness and weak indulgence. 
 Even now, there are many people convinced that Mademoiselle de 
 Maran was always tenderly — too tenderly attached to me. 
 
 Nothing is more loving ; but, at the same time, nothing more 
 cruelly selfish than children. I took a barbarous pleasure in loading 
 
G2 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 my new female attendant with marks of confidence, in the presence 
 of Blondeau, in order, as little girls say, to set the latter’s bristles up, 
 and the unhappy woman, enlightened by her own good sense, and 
 not irritated by a mean envy, suffered horribly at seeing herself so 
 forgotten and misjudged by me, whom she loved so sincerely. 
 
 My ingratitude soon exceeded all limits. 
 
 As my understanding gradually developed itself, Mademoiselle de 
 Maran inspired me, if not with greater affection, at least with a 
 greater curiosity. I began to comprehend and to be amused with 
 her sarcasms, and she often made me laugh, by ridiculing Blondeau's 
 puritanism and remonstrances on my dawning coquetry. She 
 would then satirize the poor woman's ignorance and her language, 
 and I laughed still more. 
 
 By degrees, a feeling of contempt began to mingle with my 
 forgetfulness of Blondeau’s holy and devoted affection, for my aunt 
 made me blush at the familiarity in which I lived with a woman of 
 that description. 
 
 Doubtless, I was wrong — grievously wrong ; but I was scarcely 
 eight years old, and the plaything of a woman who prostituted her 
 great superiority of intellect towards the unholy purpose of throw- 
 ing me into an evil course. 
 
 I followed her advice too blindly, and grew so cold towards my 
 governess, that the poor woman, after having ineffectually tried 
 everything to re-awaken my former affection, actually had a fit of 
 illness brouhgt on by grief. 
 
 When I perceived how pale and changed she had become, I saw 
 the whole extent of my error ; my tears flowed abundantly, and I 
 refused to leave her ; my aunt, however, beholding my affection, 
 persuaded me that Blondeau’s illness was only a pretended one. 
 
 This odious insinuation offered an excuse for my ingratitude, and 
 I willingly believed it. 
 
 I shall never forget the look of painful surprise which my go- 
 verness gave me when she saw me come back to her smiling 
 cheerful, and jesting. She raised her emaciated hands towards the 
 sky, and exclaimed with a burst of tears — 
 
 “ My God ! she once had a heart like her mother’s ! They have - 
 ruined her — ruined her.” 
 
 From that day, the unhappy woman became more glooym and 
 taciturn ; she insisted upon getting up, weak as she was, and from 
 her continual fits of absence, appeared to be under the dominion 
 of some fixed idea 
 
 The servants of the house made sport of her, and she who was 
 formerly of so impatient a disposition, appeared now to suffer every 
 thing with resignation, or rather with indifference. She scarcely 
 ever spoke to me. 
 
 I remember one night when I awoke, I found her leaning over 
 my pillow, her eyes bathed in tears, and gazing on me with a look 
 of indescribable anguish. I was frightened, and pretended to go to 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 63 
 
 sleep again, and the next day I told my aunt, who said it was a 
 joke of Blondeau’s, and done for the purpose of frightening me ; 
 I believed Mademoiselle de Maran, and nourished a feeling of re- 
 sentment against my governess. 
 
 New Year’s Day had now come round, and the evening before, 
 my aunt, in discussing a new year’s gift for Blondeau, observed — • 
 “ You had better give her some money, instead of a dress or a 
 piece of jewellery. Those sort of people like money better than 
 anything and she gave me five louis for Blondeau. 
 
 In former years my aunt had never given me anything for my 
 governess, and as I then loved Blondeau tenderly, and was desirous 
 of giving her something, I employed every year, prodigious adroit- 
 ness, and dissimulation, in order to surprise her with a few lines of 
 simple affection, or some little piece of my best embroidered work. 
 I cannot describe Madame Blondeau’s delight and rapture, when, on 
 New Year’s Eve, after my evening prayer, I threw my arms around 
 her neck, and gave her my little present. 
 
 Now that I reflect upon it, it seems to me that there was some- 
 thing touching and religious in that mark of affection from me, a 
 poor orphan, forsaken and repulsed, who, possessing nothing, had 
 recourse to my own childish labours to pay the debt of my love, 
 my governess, notwithstanding the inferiority of her station, had 
 too sensitive a heart not to be touched even to tears by this proof 
 of my affection, which sprang from my own impulse, and had not 
 been suggested by any third person. 
 
 You may conceive, then, her painful feelings, when, on this New 
 Year’s Eve, I slipped my five louis into her hand gaily and laugh- 
 ingly. She expected one of the surprises of former years, and as 
 I was now beginning to draw tolerably, she had even ventured to 
 hope for some specimen of my new talent. Notwithstanding my 
 apparent ingratitude, she had not admitted for an instant the pos- 
 sibility of my having forgotten those tender traditions of my child- 
 hood, and returning me the gold with a look that had in it asm uch 
 sadness as uneasiness, she said — 
 
 “ You have made a mistake, Matilda ; this is for Julie ; you 
 have got something else for me ; have you not ?” 
 
 Her voice faltered, and she gave me an uneasy and alarmed 
 
 look. 
 
 “ No,” I replied, “ I have nothing else to give you.” 
 
 “ And yet, in past years — (and she attempted to [hide the tears 
 that would have way) — in past years — you know — in the evening 
 — after your prayer — you used to give me — ” 
 
 “ Oh ! yes,” was my reply, “ I know what you mean ; but now, 
 you see, I have no time, and I am obliged to attend to my studies ; 
 and besides, your sort of people like money better than anything .” 
 And then, without embracing her, or shewing her the least mark 
 of affection, I tripped out of the room, to go and admire a mag- 
 
64 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 nificent ermine tippet, a present of Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 to me. 
 
 As I left my governess, I heard a deep sigh and the noise made 
 by the pieces of gold, falling from her hand, on the floor ; but so 
 pitiless was my indifference, and so great my haste to inspect my 
 aunt’s present, that I did not stop for a moment, or even turn back 
 my head. 
 
 Alas ? my friend, though still young, I have suffered much, and 
 shed many bitter tears ; but God knows that in my most violent 
 fits of despair I have often exclaimed, “ I ought to bear all without 
 complaining — I, who caused that best of women the most painful 
 pang which the human heart can experience.” 
 
 That evening, notwithstanding my indifference, I felt rather 
 ashamed when I thought of Blondeau, and expected she would re- 
 proach me ; but, on the contrary, I found my governess more affec- 
 tionate than usual, she was only extremely pale, and evidently under 
 the influence of some strong feeling. I fancied I could perceive 
 something extraordinary in her look. 
 
 She put me to bed, and kissed me earnestly several times, while 
 I felt her tears falling upon my cheeks. My natural disposition 
 once more obtained the ascendancy, and I flung myself round 
 her neck, entreating her forgiveness for the pain I had occa- 
 sioned her. 
 
 “ Accuse you — you — my child ! — never !” she exclaimed with 
 tears, and kissing my hair and hands. “ Never, poor child ! As 
 long as they suffered you to be good and affectionate, you were in 
 all things the picture of your mother. But do not let us talk any 
 more about that, my darling child. Come, say your evening prayer, 
 and pray, too, for your old nurse. She loves you dearly, and she 
 has need of your prayers. The prayers of children are like those 
 of the blessed angels, God hears and grants them.” 
 
 When I had prayed, she kissed me tenderly on the forehead, and 
 said, “ Now, my child, good night — good night” 
 
 I observed that she trembled, and that her hands were burning 
 hot, although she was excessively pale. 
 
 I fell asleep, and do not know how long I had been in a profound 
 slumber, when I was suddenly awakened by the weight of something 
 leaning upon me. In my fright, I half opened my eyes. I do not 
 know what time of night it was. The remains of a fire were 
 smouldering in the grate, and gave a trembling and flickering light 
 to the chamber. 
 
 By the light of a night-lamp, I beheld my governess ; she was 
 close to my bed, and I had been awakened by her attempting to 
 embrace me. 
 
 Not daring to stir, I followed her with my eyes ; her countenance, 
 usually so mild and calm, had then a sinister expression, which 
 chilled me with terror. 
 
 She was looking at me, and muttering to herself with a bewil- 
 dered air — 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 65 
 
 ”No no j I can endure this no longer. That monster is destroy- 
 ing my child ; she has rendered her indifferent and contemptuous 
 to me. Matilda no longer loves me. I am no longer of any use 
 to her, and I need not remain here. Indeed I could not. No ; 
 I have endured too much to-day ; they have filled the cup to 
 overflowing. Money to me ! Oh ! I shall go mad ; I think I am 
 mad already. Come, no more of this ; one last kiss for this poor 
 little slumbering angel. God will forgive me, for that cherub has 
 prayed for me.” 
 
 Saying these words, Blondeau kissed me on the forehead, and 
 added, sobbing — 
 
 “ Farewell ! farewell l poor child ; you shall never know the 
 misery you have brought upon me. I do not blame you ; oh, no ! 
 it is that monster, who broke your mother’s heart, and who is now 
 trying to destroy your soul. Farewell ! Once more, farewell ! 
 Oh i I must kiss, once more, that beautiful fair hair I have loved 
 so much.” 
 
 And I felt her icy, cold lips upon my brow. I had till then 
 shut my eyes, although I was quite awake. Suddenly I opened 
 them, and saw my governess rush towards the window and open 
 it with violence. I guessed her fatal intention, ran to her, and 
 stopped her at the very instant she was about to throw herself 
 headlong out. 
 
 The poor woman was at first stupified ; but recalled to herself by 
 my screams, she fell on her knees, exclaiming — 
 
 “ Oh ! my God, what was I about to do ? Pardon, pardon, I 
 was mad ; I had forgotten my oath to the dying mother, never to 
 forsake her child ; but I suffered so much — and especially to-day — 
 God, in His goodness, sent this angel to prevent my crime. No, 
 no ; I will remain with thee, my child — I will suffer — I will endure 
 all — I will die, if necessary, of a broken heart ; but I will die near 
 thee, and with my eyes fixed on thee. I promised it to that poor 
 lady who, in yon heaven, hears me now.” 
 
 This scene left so deep an impression on my mind, and I was 
 so struck with Blondeau’s despair, that my ingratitude was, for 
 ever, nipped in the bud, and all my old affection for her returned, 
 to Mademoiselle de Maran’s great annoyance, who had for an in- 
 stant hoped to deprive me of that honest and devoted at- 
 tachment. 
 
 A short time afterwards my aunt informed me that Ursula 
 d’Orbeval, my guardian’s daughter, and a cousin of mine, was at 
 last coming to live with us, and added, that as I was much prettier, 
 much better educated, and much better dressed than my cousin, 
 I should find a great pleasure in making the new visiter fully con- 
 scious of my superiority. 
 
 Thus Mademoiselle de Maran left me not one single feeling in 
 its natural purity and bloom. Already the joy — candid and gentle 
 as it was — that I felt in the dea of finding a friend of my own 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 age, was debased by the after thought of awakening jealousy, envy, 
 and consequently, hatred, in that very friend’s bosom. 
 
 I know not, my friend, if you remark that my aunt, with singular 
 sagacity, had, I might say, divided my youth into two parts. Till 
 I was nine years old, I had endured terror, privations, and neglect ; 
 I was not yet ripe for her ulterior objects. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A CHILDISH FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A new era was about to dawn in my life. Till then, the nature of 
 my feelings had been incomplete. I feared my aunt ; but her wit 
 amused me, and in spite of some marks of coldness and neglect, 
 I was tenderly attached to my governess, though there existed 
 between us no similarity of age or disposition. 
 
 When Ursula d’Orbeval arrived, I was so lonely, and had built 
 such fine castles in the air, founded on her anticipated friendship, 
 that I felt already grateful to my cousin, who was about to put me 
 in a position to realize those enchanting hopes. I completely forgot 
 my aunt’s treacherous advice, and instead of thinking how to 
 humiliate Ursula, I only thought of loving her. 
 
 She arrived at the hotel de Mar an the day after New Year’s 
 Day. 
 
 She was about a year older than myself, and by a strange pecu- 
 liarity she had black hair and blue eyes, while on the contrary, I 
 had black eyes and fair hair. We were about the same size. 
 Ursula’s features were, by no means, regularly formed ; but it was 
 impossible to imagine a more interesting countenance, or a sweeter 
 and more amiable smile. 
 
 The first time I saw her she was in mourning for her grandmother ; 
 her black garments set off to still more advantage the rosy whiteness 
 of her skin, and I thought her appearance so enchanting that I 
 flung my arms round her neck and called her my sister. I cried 
 in spite of myself, and those were the sweetest tears I had ever 
 shed. My cousin received my caresses with a touching grace- 
 fulness, and then I conducted her to my room and placed all the 
 treasures of my toilet at her disposal. Ursula displayed neither 
 an awkward embarrassment nor an indiscreet forwardness. She 
 told me with much emotion, that she was a suitor for my friend- 
 ship, being herself almost an orphan, as her father treated her 
 with extreme harshness. 
 
 I began to feel a world of new sensations in myself, and to com- 
 prehend the happiness of devoting oneself to protecting and 
 defending a person whom one loves. I was almost obliged to 
 Ursula for being poor, as I was rich ; for being almost forsaken, as 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 67 
 
 my heart was there ready to meet hers half-way and to offer 
 the treasures of affection, which had been denied to her. 
 
 As soon as I had a friend to love, I fancied myself no longer a 
 child ; I felt myself to be quite a woman (as the little girls say) 
 and became very serious and thoughtful. I grew ashamed of my 
 past coquetry, and I exclaimed to Ursula, pointing with great con- 
 tempt to all my fine dresses — 
 
 “ All that was very well when I was alone.” 
 
 As my cousin was in mourning I set my heart upon being dressed 
 in black like her. This plan occupied my ideas all that night, and 
 the next morning I boldly walked into Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 room, and said to her — 
 
 “ Aunt, I want to be dressed in black like Ursula, and to be so 
 as long as she is.” 
 
 “ Why, my dear child, you must be mad,” replied my aunt 
 with astonishment, “ Ursula is in mourning, and you have nobody 
 to mourn for.” 
 
 “ May I not mourn for my mother 1” I answered with a downcast 
 look of sadness. 
 
 My aunt burst out laughing, and exclaimed — 
 
 “ How droll she is, with her queer, undertaker’s notions ! Why, 
 you wore mourning for your mother seven years ago, and that is 
 quite enough.” 
 
 “ I wore it, aunt, without knowing that I wore it,” was my reply, 
 while the tears came into my eyes, for my aunt’s laugh had pain- 
 fully hurt me. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, what funny ideas the child has,” answered 
 Mademoiselle de Maran with another laugh, and chucking me under 
 the chin, “ come, come, you little madcap, this fine whim of yours 
 shall be complied with ; you shall be dressed in black, but not in 
 mourning, however, mind you, for that would be too ridiculous ; but 
 you shall have some fine dresses of watered silk, while poor Ursula 
 w r ill only have woollen ones, which will make her nicely savage.” 
 
 “ I don’t want to be dressed differently to my cousin, aunt.” 
 
 “ So — so, it’s got to that already, has it ?” exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 de Maran, fixing her piercing eyes upon me. “ Why this is even 
 better than I expected. Come — come — make yourself easy ; as 
 soon as the mourning is over, you shall be always dressed like two 
 sisters ; you are quite rich enough to give your cousin a handsome 
 dress now and then, as she has not got a farthing herself.” 
 
 “ You don’t understand me, aunt,” I impatiently exclaimed ; 
 “ since Ursula is poor, I wish to be dressed like her, and not that 
 she should be dressed like me.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran again looked at me attentively, and said 
 in her sarcastic manner — 
 
 “ How is this ? What’s the child after to-day, with all this su- 
 perlative delicacy ? How touching ! She is quite a chip of the 
 old block !” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 68 
 
 She then added, talking to herself, “ After all, so much the 
 better !” and addressing me, she continued — 
 
 “ Vastly well, my child ; you cannot treat Ursula too much like 
 a sister. I am delighted to see you display symptoms of such 
 excessive delicacy — such extreme sensibility. So much the better ; 
 I am agreeably surprised ; you have surpassed my fondest hopes.” 
 
 I was quite proud and happy when I left Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, and I hurried to my governess, to tell her the result of my 
 interview with my aunt. Blondeau embraced me with tears — but 
 this time, tears of joy — and exclaimed, “ Your own good heart 
 has returned ; I could almost fancy I hear the voice of your poor 
 mother.” 
 
 You might suppose that there was, at this period, a pause in 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s evil designs against me ; such, however, 
 was by no means the case. Never, on the contrary, did she believe 
 herself more certain of injuring me, both at the present time and 
 in the future. But at that time I did not know, what I found out 
 afterwards, and I yielded up myself, with happiness, to my exalted 
 sentiments of affection towards my cousin, who, on her part, 
 repaid me, by a most affectionate and grateful confidence. 
 
 Some days after Ursula’s arrival at the hotel de Maran , she knew 
 all my little secrets. I had told her the history of my whole 
 childhood, with the exception of my governess’s sinister attempt, 
 and it had cost me much, and did cost me much even then, to keep 
 that secret to myself. 
 
 Although Ursula was a year older than myself, I was pretty 
 nearly on a par with her as regarded our progress in instruction ; 
 our masters always gave the preference to my exercises over hers, 
 either because they really deserved it, or by way of flattering my 
 aunt, of whose secret designs my instructors thus became unwit- 
 tingly the instruments. 
 
 Fearing to wound Ursula’s self-love by my successes, I did all I 
 could to palliate my superiority ; I invented a thousand different 
 ways of explaining away my little triumphs to my own disad- 
 vantage, hinting either that our masters placed me first in order to 
 please Mademoiselle de Maran, or that Ursula herself was so fond 
 of me, as to make mistakes purposely, that I might have the 
 advantage. 
 
 I am not aware whether our dawning friendship interfered 
 with Mademoiselle de Maran’s projects, but she found out a fresh 
 method of tormenting me more cruelly than ever. 
 
 Under the pretext of familiarising us little by little with society, 
 my aunt sent for us occasionally into her drawing-room. She 
 received company every evening ; but several of her most intimate 
 friends visited her between four and six o’clock. 
 
 You may conceive the painful feelings I experienced the first 
 time I heard my aunt observe to some strangers, while pointing 
 out myself and Ursula to their notice — 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 69 
 
 u Would you believe that my niece, who is a year younger than 
 Mademoiselle d'Orbeval, and whose education commenced so much 
 later, has been so assiduous in her application, and has made such 
 astonishing progress that she is before her companion in everything. 
 
 It is generally poor girls without fortune who work the most indus- 
 triously. Here, however, the contrary is the case. Matilda, not 
 satisfied with surpassing her cousin in wealth and beauty, is deter- 
 mined also to be her superior in education. That child, poor little 
 dear, is a perfect treasure— she is the very image of her mother.” 
 And then Mademoiselle de Maran overwhelmed me Avith hypocri- 
 tical caresses. 
 
 This was heart-breaking to me ; I gave Ursula a supplicating 
 look, and we were scarcely alone when I threw myself with tears 
 into her arms, and begged her to forgive me for the exaggerated 
 and ridiculous praises with which my aunt overwhelmed me. My 
 cousin, no less moved than myself, soothed my fears, and even joked 
 me about them, proving by her daily increasing affection, that she 
 was in no way jealous of my advantages, or hurt by the taunts of 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. I then used every possible effort to let 
 Ursula have the first place ; but it was in vain that I added blunder 
 to blunder, I could not succeed in seeing Ursula’s exercises pre- 
 ferred to mine. At last, one day I took it in my head to do no 
 exercise at all, and my companion then, of necessity, obtained the / 
 first place. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran sent for us both down into her drawing- 
 room, where there were still several visiters. 
 
 After a few words of common-place conversation, my aunt made 
 me come to her, and said, addressing herself to a lady of the 
 company — 
 
 “ You will tell me that I am always repeating the same thing ; 
 but old women have the privilege of talking nonsense when it is 
 about their darlings. I see you smile, and you guess I refer to my 
 little Matilda. It is true I dote upon her, and if you like to call 
 it so, am quite infatuated with that child. Well then,” continued 
 my aunt, with that good old vjoman’s sort of voice she always spoke 
 in, when about to utter some spiteful observation — “ I own it — I 
 cannot help it. Now, for instance, compare Matilda and Ursula — 
 and, by the bye, I must just give mamzelle d’Orbeval a lesson.” 
 Then turning towards my cousin with a look of severity, my aunt 
 went on to say, “ Mademoiselle, you are poor, you profit by all 
 your cousin’s masters, and you are idle enough to permit Matilda, 
 that angel of goodness, to neglect her own duties purposely, as she 
 has done to-day, in order to leave you the first place, a distinction 
 you have not energy enough to gain by your own application.” 
 
 “ But aunt !” I exclaimed, “ Ursula knew nothing about it.” 
 
 “ What a good heart the little dear has got ! What generosity ! 
 She actually takes her part !” 
 
 And my aunt again embraced me. Then continuing to address 
 
70 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 my cousin with severity, who was crimson with shame, and had 
 burst into tears, she said to her harshly — 
 
 “ How is it that you are not ashamed of accepting, or, perhaps, 
 exacting such sacrifices from this child V ’ 
 
 “ But, madame !” exclaimed Ursula, “ I assure you, I did not 
 know — ” 
 
 “ That will do — that will do,” interrupted Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. “ I know what to think.” 
 
 And she sent us away after having once more tenderly embraced 
 me. These caresses disgusted me ; I was beginning to hate her 
 worse than ever, for I began to have a presentiment that her dia- 
 bolical malice was desirous of alienating my cousin’s friendship 
 ^ from me. 
 
 After this scene I threw myself sobbing at Ursula’s feet. The 
 poor child returned my caresses, and thanked me for my expressions 
 of attachment ; but I could see that she suffered for a long time 
 afterwards, and the more acutely, from her pride, and from her 
 being naturally disinclined to confide her sorrows. 
 
 My only fear was, that my cousin should believe me capable of 
 telling tales to my aunt, or at least of abetting, or being pleased 
 with the praises she bestowed on me. I therefore resolved to de- 
 clare open war against Mademoiselle de Maran, and to irritate her, 
 at whatever cost, against me, so that I might prove to Ursula I was 
 no traitor , and that I was desirous of having my share with her of 
 my aunt’s scoldings. 
 
 The question was, what great blow should be struck ! My 
 idleness and refusal to study, instead of making my aunt displeased 
 with me, had brought down bitter reproaches upon Ursula ; it was 
 necessary therefore, that I should offend in some other way. 
 
 I meditated long upon this fine project, and Blondeau told me 
 afterwards I looked quite grave, pensive, and pre-occupied. I 
 showed still more attachment to Ursula ; but I took every possible 
 precaution, that she might not be accused of having been aware of 
 my designs. 
 
 Among other projects of mischief, I had at one time thought of 
 breaking a magnificent cup of Sevres china, which Louis the 
 Eighteenth had made a present to my aunt, and which was highly 
 valued by her. Upon second thoughts, however, this idea did not 
 satisfy me. The act might be attributed to awkwardness or care- 
 lessness ; what I wanted, on the contrary, was something preme- 
 ditated — some piece of good, open, inexcusable mischief. I next 
 valiantly thought of setting fire to the drawing-room curtains ; but 
 the consequences of the blaze might endanger Ursula and Blondeau, 
 and besides, that also might be attributed to accident. 
 
 In inventing these schemes of mischief, I was restrained by no 
 scruples. I fancied I was going to do something quite noble and 
 heroic ; I felt my blood glow in my veins, and believed I should 
 reach the sublimity of self-devotion. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 71 
 
 While these mighty thoughts were busy in my brain, fatality 
 threw in my way my aunt’s wolf-dog Felix. I had an old score to 
 settle with that spiteful brute, for his bites in former days. The 
 very evening before, Ursula had felt his teeth ; but I confess that 
 had he been a dog of the most amiable disposition, Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s attachment for him would have been his great crime in my 
 eyes, or rather the reason for selecting him as my victim. 
 
 I was well aware how furious my aunt became when any of the 
 servants made Felix squeak, even by accident, and for a moment I 
 was coward enough to tremble at the thought of Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s rage. I believed her capable of killing me, if I undertook 
 anything against her pet ; but my friendship for Ursula carried 
 the day, and I determined to hazard all the consequences of my 
 resolution. 
 
 I was alone in my aunt’s parlour. Felix was lying in his kennel 
 lined with velvet, and his head only was visible. Though de- 
 sirous of doing him an injury, I was puzzled how to set about 
 it ; for he was very savage, and always on his guard ; besides, 
 a mere kick would not have served my purpose, or satisfied my 
 revenge. 
 
 In retracing these childish details, my friend, I can scarcely 
 refrain from smiling, and yet I never remember to have felt an 
 emotion so profound and absorbing as I experienced at the moment 
 I was about to accomplish my design. 
 
 Strange circumstance ! I have formed, in the course of my life, 
 resolutions most important, and even most culpable, and yet, I re- 
 peat it, I never felt the fear, hesitation, and, if I may so call it, the 
 anticipated remorse which crowded upon my mind, as I was about 
 to commit a spiteful trick of childish mischief. 
 
 I confess my vengeance upon Felix was a barbarous one ; yet, I 
 was not naturally cruel, and only the eagerness I felt to set my 
 character right in Ursula’s eyes, could have induced me to perpe- 
 trate such an atrocity. I was abominably wicked enough to put 
 the tongs in the fire, and when they were red hot, I advanced thu3 
 formidably armed, and with great courage against the foe. Felix, 
 as usual, rushed from his kennel, and flew at me ; but I seized one 
 of his sharp ears so cleverly with the tongs, that he fell down with a 
 horrible yell, without the energy or strength to regain his kennel. 
 I had an instant’s remorse when I saw the unfortunate animal’s 
 ear smoking, and heard his yells of pain ; but I stifled this move- 
 ment of compassion, by the delightful thought that I should noAV 
 be ill treated by my aunt, in the presence of Ursula. 
 
 I remained standing in a heroic attitude, my tongs in my hand, 
 and my victim rolling at my feet. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran rushed in, frightened to death, and fol- 
 lowed by her maitre d'hotel, who was no less alarmed. 
 
 “ Good God ! what’s the matter !” she exclaimed, throw- 
 ing herself upon Felix, “ what’s the matter, my poor fellow ?” 
 
72 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 Then perceiving one of his ears was completely burnt, she lifted 
 up her head and furiously addressed me — 
 
 “ You stupid little fool ! you could not take the trouble of 
 watching him, and preventing his going too near the fire. Servien — 
 Servien — quick — some fresh water — some ice.” 
 
 Then with eyes starting out of her head with rage, and her lips 
 covered with foam, my aunt, forgetting her usual affectionate 
 manners, seized me by the arm, pinched me till the blood came, 
 and exclaimed, “ You could not take the trouble of watching him, 
 you sneaking fool — you worthless wretch 1” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran looked so frightful and so savage, that 
 I hesitated for an instant. I might have left her in the belief that 
 Felix’s burns were the consequence of my carelessness ; but I soon 
 overcame this cowardly weakness, and extricating myself from her 
 hands, I showed her the tongs which I still held, and said to her, 
 with an air of triumph — 
 
 “ I made these tongs red hot, and 1 then burnt Felix’s ear with 
 them, for the purpose.” 
 
 The last word was not out of my mouth, when I felt my aunt’s 
 dry and bony fingers upon my cheek. The box on the ear she gave 
 me was so violent, that it nearly knocked me down.” 
 
 Do not smile, my friend, but in spite of the pain and my dread 
 of my aunt, I only thought of the insult, I became crimson with 
 rage, and without well knowing what I was about, I threw the tongs 
 with my whole strength at Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 Some fatality accomplished my purpose to the utmost ; the tongs 
 struck the magnificent cup of Sevres china, and the royal gift was 
 broken into a thousand pieces. 
 
 I remember, my friend, to have heard you analyse, with that true 
 and correct judgment you possess, the emotion you used to feel when 
 carried away and excited in war, by the involuntary instinct of 
 slaughter. Well, at ten years old, my poor little head felt, by 
 analogy, the same transport. 
 
 After this glorious victory — after burning the dog and smashing 
 the cup, I ran about the parlour, intoxicated with pride and insen- 
 sible to my aunt’s abuse and threats, crying out, with the whole 
 strength of my lungs — 
 
 “ Ursula ! Ursula ! come and look here.” 
 
 And then unable, doubtless, to resist any longer, the violent 
 feelings which had for some minutes agitated me, I fainted com- 
 pletely away. 
 
 Fancy my delight, on recovering ; I found myself in bed ; my 
 governess was at my pillow, and my cousin on her knees, holding 
 my hands in hers. 
 
 I cannot describe to you the rapture and pride with which I re- 
 membered my courageous exploit ; I was only afraid of hearing that 
 my aunt’s passion had become appeased. 
 
 “ Good God, my poor child !” said Blondeau, “ how could you 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 73 
 
 have the heart, kind as you are, to hurt that poor dog so much 1 I 
 know he is as spiteful as the devil ; but, nevertheless, it was very 
 cruel in you — ■'* 
 
 “ And my aunt — my aunt — is she very angry V* I impatiently 
 broke in. 
 
 “ Angry ! — Blessed Jesus !” replied Blondeau ; “ I believe she is 
 too, she was in such a passion, that she went into hysterics, and 
 when she came to herself, her first words were to order that you 
 should be put upon bread and water for a week.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Ursula !” I exclaimed, flinging myself round my cousin’s 
 neck. 
 
 “ This is not all, mademoiselle,” continued Blondeau, sadly “ your 
 aunt is having a frock of coarse, grey cloth made for you, with a 
 label to be pinned upon it, and you will be compelled to come 
 down to the drawing-room with it to-morrow when there is 
 company.” 
 
 “ Ursula ! Ursula ! you see she punishes me, also ! she humi- 
 liates me, also ! she hates me, also ! as much as she does you,” I 
 exclaimed, supremely happy, and embracing my cousin. 
 
 “ Ah ! now I see it all,” said my governess ; and the excellent 
 woman clasped her hands, and gazed on me with touching 
 emotion. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FIRST COMMUNION. 
 
 In spite of her discernment and adroitness, Mademoiselle de Maran 
 did not discover the motive of the vengeance I had taken upon 
 Felix ; but thought that I had merely acted from my hatred and 
 spite against the dog. The best consequences resulted from my 
 courage ; Ursula seemed extremely touched by this so strange a 
 proof of my friendship, and a closer and more tender tie appeared 
 to unite us from that day. 
 
 I discovered that Ursula’s disposition was a far superior one to 
 my own. I was often passionate, wilful, and obstinate ; my cousin, 
 on the contrary, invariably displayed the most perfect patience and 
 calmness ; her clear, mild glance, indeed, was occasionally veiled by 
 a tear ; but was never lighted up by any violent emotion. Her 
 destiny appeared to be suffering and the devotion of herself to 
 others. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran seemed, little by little, to forget the 
 crime I had committed, and continued to take every opportunity 
 of exalting me at my cousin’s expense. Ursula, however, re-assured 
 
74 
 
 TtTE ORPHAN. 
 
 by the proofs of affection which I exerted myself to show her, seemed 
 henceforth insensible to my aunt’s maliciousness. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Soon after this, one of the most important events in the life of a 
 young girl, who has ceased to be a child, my first Communion , 
 awakened new and serious ideas in my heart. Mademoiselle de Maran 
 attended to none of the outward performances of religion. Nothing 
 in her language or in her manners betrayed any feelings of piety ; 
 and she only caused us to accomplish this solemn act as a kind of 
 duty owed to society. 
 
 Unfortunately the priest who was charged with our religious 
 instruction, accomplished that sacred task also, as one of the duties 
 of his profession. 
 
 Conforming himself to the mere letter of the sacred ceremony, 
 he did not place its divine spirit within the reach of our youthful 
 intelligence. He did not, for instance, represent confession to us 
 as an act of pious and salutary confidence, to which the priest 
 responds with consolation and pardon ; but, on the contrary, it was 
 for us a painful and dreaded self-accusation. 
 
 This priest, who came every day to prepare us for the Com- 
 munion, was called the Abbe Dubourg ; he was a man of harsh and 
 morose disposition, and always seemed in a hurry to get to the end 
 of our conversations. 
 
 His style of instruction was dry, cold, and almost contemptuous. 
 He was an eloquent preacher, and had preached during two Lents 
 with the greatest success, and was, I believe, extremely desirous of 
 obtaining a Bishopric. Being well aware of the powerful influence 
 possessed by my aunt, he had, from a motive of interest, accepted 
 the office which he discharged towards us, though it doubtless 
 was one which he looked upon as far beneath his learning and 
 eloquence. 
 
 Now that I am able to compare and appreciate facts, I am of 
 opinion that the Abbe Dubourg’s instructions were in no degree 
 different from those of our other teachers ; he merely gave us 
 lessons in religion, and nothing else. 
 
 Alas ! those young girls are happy, indeed, whose religious edu- - 
 cation has been developed and fertilized by the tenderness of a 
 mother — a mother, that holy mediatrix between her child and 
 God f 
 
 Should not — if I may be allowed the expression — should not the 
 glowing rays of divine light be only permitted to penetrate the 
 natures of children, tender and delicate as they are, through the 
 medium of a mother’s love ? Otherwise the effect upon that feeble 
 age is, to dazzle without enlightening. 
 
 And yet that religious instinct which then, and ever since, has 
 existed in my bosom, threw some light, though a confused one, upon 
 the holiness of the act I was about to accomplish. But, in my 
 ignorance, I measured that magnificent symbol, whose immensity 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 75 
 
 embraces all mankind, by the narrow rule of my own personal 
 feelings. 
 
 To receive the Communion with Ursula was, in my eyes, to take 
 the solemn engagement of ever being a Christian sister to her in 
 the presence of the Almighty himself, and I thus concentrated 
 upon her the unlimited devotion which religion demands from 
 us all. 
 
 Our Communion at the altar was, to me, a holy and eternal con- 
 secration of our friendship. I know, oh, my God, that the sacred 
 law extends to all, and not to one alone ; but, surely the Saviour, in 
 His infinite mercy, must have looked with an eye of pity upon those 
 two, poor, orphan children, who, in their ingenuous enthusiasm, placed 
 their touching and sisterly affection under the segis of one of reli- 
 gion’s most imposing mysteries. 
 
 ****** 
 
 From that day the ties which bound us appeared to me indis- 
 soluble ; we formed the most extravagant projects ; we were never 
 to separate, never to marry ; but to live like Mademoiselle de 
 Maran ; and this old maid’s existence was arrayed in such charming 
 colours by our friendship, that such a future lot appeared to us, the 
 most enviable one in the world. 
 
 No events of any importance marked the three or four years which 
 followed my first communion. My only sorrow was, in always find- 
 ing myself more elegantly dressed than my cousin, in spite of my 
 entreaties to the contrary, and in hearing Mademoiselle de Maran 
 talk in the following manner, to her visiters, before me and 
 Ursula : — 
 
 “ It is really incredible how a few years change people’s features. 
 Just look at Matilda now, for instance, she was only a pretty child ; 
 well, now as she grows up, her beauty is becoming so accomplished 
 and remarkable, that people turn back to look at her. Ursula, on 
 the contrary, who used to have rather a nice little face, is growing 
 up a perfect fright, and she has such a common — common look ! 
 while her cousin is so very distinguished in appearance. But, alas ! 
 my child,” would Mademoiselle de Maran add, addressing Ursula, in 
 a tone of hypocritical resignation, and with her u good sort of a 
 woman ” look, “ what is to be done ? We must resign ourselves, 
 and put up with it all. Gracefulness or beauty was never the forte 
 of our branch of the family ! I can bear witness to that — I, who 
 am as ugly as the seven capital sins, and as hump-backed as a bag 
 of nuts. By-the-bye,” continued my aunt, addressing some of her 
 complaisant friends, u don’t you think Ursula’s figure is rather 
 crooked, a little bent ? Very little, certainly ; but still there is 
 something wrong there, decidedly — is there not ? It is a kind of 
 family reminiscence on the father’s side.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s toadies were certain to give but a 
 feeble contradiction to these assertions, and my aunt would then 
 exclaim — 
 
76 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ What a difference there is in Matilda ! Her’s is a real fairy 
 figure, as straight as a reed, and as flexible as an osier twig ; there 
 is not a single young person of her age who unites, as she does, 
 gracefulness to dignity, and intellect to beauty. How can we help 
 it 1 As for you, my poor Ursula, who have not all these fine 
 qualities, take my advice, and by way of consoling yourself for 
 being so inferior to your cousin, in every respect, content yourself 
 with admiring her ; for, be assured that, to admire others, is the 
 consolation of ugly people, with noble natures ; and this will be so 
 much the more meritorious on your part, as you never look so 
 ugly as when one compares you to Matilda. It is just like myself ; 
 I never appeared so frightful as when I was in company with a 
 young and beautiful woman ; but, as I tell you, I used to comfort 
 myself by admiring her. And after all, you have a thousand 
 reasons for loving Matilda ; your friendship for her delights me ; 
 for it proves that you are, at all events, not ungrateful. Has not 
 your cousin bestowed upon you the most magnificent gift in the 
 world, that of a splendid education ? You would never have had 
 that education without her. Do you suppose your father could 
 have afforded you masters at a louis a lesson ? Once for all, you 
 do no more than your duty, in loving and blessing your cousin ; 
 for, thanks to her, you may be able, by your instruction and 
 talents, to make people forget that you are as ugly as she is 
 charming.” 
 
 Nothing could be more treacherous, more odious, and more 
 dangerous than these censures and praises on our physical advan- 
 tages and defects. 
 
 I could never understand that false modesty which consists in 
 denying one’s own beauty. Personal advantages do not depend 
 on oneself, and if one is beautiful, to confess it is not vanity — it is 
 merely telling the truth. I conceive, on the other hand, that one 
 should maintain the most scrupulous and diffident reserve in appre- 
 ciating talents or advantages which are merely acquired ones. 
 
 I believe, then, that at sixteen or seventeen, I was really hand- 
 some, certainly not so handsome as Mademoiselle de Maran pre- 
 tended ; but, still, enough so, to justify, in some degree, her praises, 
 if they had not been so cruelly exaggerated. It was just the same 
 with the censures of which she was so lavish on my cousin. Ursula’s 
 figure was tall, slender, and perfectly straight ; but the malicious ob- 
 servations of my aunt assumed some appearance of reality, from the 
 fact that Ursula, like a great many young persons who have grown 
 up quickly, had a slight habit of stooping. It is, therefore, easy to 
 see what art and system my aunt employed in her perfidious compari- 
 sons. It was the same system that she had employed since my 
 childhood. In one point of view, she spoke the truth ; and, more- 
 over, the weapon she used was a two-edged one. My aunt 
 wished to inflict a painful wound upon Ursula’s vanity, and to raise 
 my self-love to a ridiculous point. If even the most false ideas, and 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 77 
 
 the most notorious lies, by being incessantly repeated, end by 
 leaving a deep impression on our minds, what must be the case 
 when there is some slight appearance of truth to confirm them. 
 My cousin had finished at last by believing herself to be completely 
 destitute of every charm, and my assurances to the contrary were 
 considered by her as merely dictated by a feeling of affectionate 
 pity on my part, and she used to reply — 
 
 “ Good Heavens ! how kind you are to attempt to console 
 me in this manner ! I do not deceive myself ; Mademoiselle de 
 Maran is quite right ; you are as beautiful as I am ugly, and I 
 have made up my mind to my fate.” 
 
 Doubtless, my cousin’s language on these occasions was sincere ; 
 and nothing at that time could have made me suppose that my 
 aunt had attained her end, and that the seed of bitter jealousies 
 sown by her, was already shooting forth in that heart, once so candid 
 and pure. 
 
 But alas ! the future will prove if it was not a crime — a great 
 crime — for Mademoiselle de Maran (who had sounded the most 
 hidden and the darkest recesses of the human heart) to have even 
 run the risk of awakening in Ursula’s soul, that most frightful, 
 savage, and implacable of all the passions — envy. 
 
 The other risk — I mean that of developing my self-love to an 
 immoderate degree, was less serious. By acting thus, my aunt was 
 doing me a service, though an involuntary one, for she put me on 
 my guard for ever against all exaggerated flatteries. 
 
 What renders flattery so dangerous is, the custom and con- 
 sciousness of having been praised with tenderness, tact, and truth. 
 In such a case, one gives oneself blindly up to the charm of those 
 kind words, and they recal to your mind a past, full of confidence, 
 love, and sincerity. 
 
 How irresistible must be the enchanting power of a flattery which 
 seems merely to be the continuation of a mother’s praises ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 When I talked to Ursula about our childhood’s projects of re- 
 maining single, and to which projects I still adhered, she would 
 say with a melancholy smile — 
 
 “ It will be all very well for me to remain an old maid, for I 
 have not even the dowry of beauty or accomplishments ; but you, 
 with your wealth, beauty, and charms, will marry and be happy. 
 And oh ! keep a little place in your heart and house for your 
 poor Ursula, so that I may be an incessant witness of your 
 happiness.” 
 
 Alas ! fatality sometimes turns our prayers and our hopes into 
 the bitterest derision. 
 
 I was now seventeen, and my cousin and myself had scarcely 
 ever been out of the hotel de Maran. We went, indeed, sometimes 
 to the Bouffons , or the Opera, with my guardian, M. d'Orbeval ; 
 but we had never yet been presented in the world. 
 
78 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 We seldom remained of an evening in my aunt’s drawing-room. 
 She had more men than women visiters, and the presence of two 
 young girls is almost always a restraint upon conversation. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, with the design, no doubt, of marrying 
 me, resolved, much against her will, to introduce me into society, 
 at the beginning of 1830, and she accordingly informed my cousin 
 and myself of her intention, adding, as usual, a few disobliging 
 comments upon Ursula — 
 
 “It will be no longer at my house only,” she said, “ that you 
 will be pained by comparisons between yourself and Matilda ; 
 but in open day, and before all the world. Arm yourself, there- 
 fore, with courage, my poor child ; your first trial will soon take 
 place. To-morrow morning I shall present you to the Ambassadress 
 of Austria, and Wednesday I shall take you to her great ball. It 
 is time that you should go into society. I am old, and have bad 
 health. I should not like to die without seeing my dear niece 
 married — and especially, married as I wish her to be.” 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY. 
 
 When Mademoiselle de Maran informed us that she intended to 
 take us to the Austrian Ambassadress’s ball, both Ursula and myself 
 became extremely uneasy, which is not surprising, as we had lived 
 hitherto almost in solitude. 
 
 Nothing: could be more regular and monotonous than our mode 
 of living. Our mornings were occupied by our masters, and in 
 the afternoon, as the season of the year suited, we either went out 
 walking with Madame Blondeau, or in the carriage, with Made- 
 moiselle de Maran ; on our return, we dressed, and sometimes 
 we remained working in my aunt’s drawing-room till dinner 
 time. 
 
 Several of her friends were in the habit of visiting her at that 
 hour ; they were not, however, very numerous, and had all been 
 companions of my father in his emigration. 
 
 Among them was a great favourite of ours, M. de Versac, who 
 held a distinguished post in the king’s household. 
 
 Though he was seventy years of age, it would be impossible to find 
 an old man of a more gay, youthful, and amiable disposition. He had 
 a most distinguished appearance, was an admirable horseman, and 
 never missed one of the King’s or Dauphin’s hunting parties. He 
 had always displayed the greatest kindness to me, and to my great 
 delight, had often defended Ursula, and taken her part, with much 
 
1HE ORPHAN. 
 
 79 
 
 gaiety, against my aunt. M. de Versac was of a charming dispo- 
 sition, but without any consistency of character ; his life had been 
 passed in making himself agreeable, and it would have been impos- 
 sible for him to have said anything that was not amiable, gracious, 
 or flattering, ; nor had he ever, I believe, in his life, uttered a word 
 at all approaching to criticism. 
 
 I now am sometimes tempted to believe that this unbounded good 
 nature concealed a perfect indifference to, if not a sovereign con- 
 tempt, for all things and all men. But if such a feeling did really 
 exist on his part, it was difficult to penetrate it, through the polished 
 exterior of exquisite courtesy and affability which he invariably dis- 
 played. Indeed, I could never fancy M. de Versac doing anything 
 else but smiling or flattering ; he had the finest teeth in the 
 world, and a most seductive smile, so that perhaps these physical 
 advantages, had made him such a decided optimist. 
 
 I can see at this minute his countenance, remarkable for that 
 nobleness and affectionate graciousness of expression so peculiar to 
 happy old men. His white hair was always dressed with extreme 
 coquetry, and you could no where find a more agreeable type of 
 the “ grand seigneur” of other days, than M. de Versac, in his 
 evening dress (perhaps a rather more affected one than became his 
 years) with his cordon bleu, and his silver order of the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 He saw but little of his wife, the Duchess de Versac, who, since 
 the restoration, had retired to the Abbaye de Panthemont, where 
 her days were spent in acts of religion and charity. 
 
 You must not, my friend, be surprised at my talking so much at 
 length of M. de Versac, for you know that I afterwards became 
 rather closely connected with him. 
 
 What made him a still greater favourite of ours was, all his de- 
 lightful accounts of the Duchess de Berry’s balls, and especially of 
 the fancy dress quadrilles. M. de Versac was pre-eminently a man 
 of pleasure, and he discussed, with the greatest interest, these fetes 
 and amusements, which are the occupation of the idle and the 
 opulent. 
 
 Among the other persons who composed Mademoiselle de Ma- 
 ran’s little morning circle, was another of the King’s ministers. 
 He was the best sort of man in the world, and amused us exces- 
 sively by his fits of absence, and by his insurmountable inclination 
 for sleeping, to which he sometimes gave way, in broad day-light, 
 with charming simplicity. 
 
 Our joy was always at its height, when a M. Bisson came ; he was 
 a man of prodigious learning ; his reputation was European, and he 
 was considered one of the most eminent members of the Academy 
 of Sciences. He was a tall, thin man, six feet high, with an ex- 
 tremely small head, and the most good natured countenance you 
 can conceive ; a white cravat was always twisted round his long 
 neck, like a rope, and generally tied in a knot behind his head. 
 
80 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 He wore in all seasons of the year, a green spencer, lined with 
 Astracan fur, underneath which was a black coat, with broad skirts. 
 Nothing on earth would have induced him to get into a carriage, 
 from fear of being overturned, and sometimes in the muddiest and 
 most rainy weather, he would come to Mademoiselle de Maran’s, in 
 a state that was really pitiable. He was full of talent, knowledge, 
 and goodness ; but had one incurable mania, that of touching, 
 putting out of its place, and sometimes breaking, everything that 
 was before him. This used to put my aunt into tremendous pas- 
 sions ; but she soon became appeased again, being very fond of 
 discussing scientific subjects with a man of such high reputation as 
 M. Bisson. 
 
 I shall never forget a beautiful Petitot enamelled snuff-box, of 
 which my aunt was imprudent enough to let him get hold, in the 
 middle of a dissertation upon one of the last reports on Etruscan 
 vases, that had been read at the Academy of Sciences, by, I believe, 
 the Duke de Luynes. 
 
 M. Bisson began, by innocently rolling about the precious box in 
 his hands. By degrees, the conversation became animated, and Ma- 
 demoiselle de Maran grew unmeasured in her attacks, denying even 
 what was self evident, rather than confess herself beaten. The 
 great scholar, exasperated by some false assertion of my aunt’s 
 (I forget what) exclaimed, striking the chimney-piece violently at 
 the same time — 
 
 “ No ! madame — no, no, no — a thousand times, no !” 
 
 Each “ no” was accompanied by a vigorous knock of the snuff- 
 box upon the marble, and it was only from the cloud of snuff, and 
 the shower of enamel chips, which were suddenly scattered about, 
 that my aunt perceived the destruction of her fragile toy. 
 
 “ Oh ! the frightful break-all !” she exclaimed, in a passion — 
 
 “ what’s he been destroying now ? — why, it is my Petitot snuff-box ! 
 Ah ! the wretch ! For God’s sake, sir, do keep quiet — you are 
 throwing snuff into my eyes — you are blinding me. Once, for all, 
 
 I forbid you ever to set foot in my house again — do you hear 'i — 
 my Petitot snuff-box ! The other day it was a sugar-plum box, of va- 
 riegated rock crystal — a sugar-plum box which cost fifty louis — if you 
 will believe me, that he broke to pieces, while telegraphing about ’ 
 with his great arms. Get out of my house, I entreat you — get out 
 of my house — your scientific conversation costs me a great deal too 
 dear, not to mention that you have a disagreeable habit of coming 
 here looking for all the world like a thief, and bringing with you 
 all the different muds of the Paris streets.” 
 
 “ You may say what you like, madame,” exclaimed M. Bisson in 
 a passion. “ I will never get into a carriage ; I am determined — I 
 would rather dirty your carpet than break my own neck !” And this 
 was all the great scholar said about the accident to the snuff-box. 
 
 “ I tell you what it is, M. Bisson,” said my aunt, “ I wish you 
 would leave me at peace ; you’ll drive me beside myself ; just 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 81 
 
 be kind enough to go away directly, and mind you never ©«ne 
 back again. 
 
 “ And where, do you think, I am to go to 1 It is only half-past 
 two, and I do not want to be at the Institute before half-past 
 three,” replied M. Bisson, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and 
 taking up a screen, which he began to pull to pieces. 
 
 “ Don’t ask me where you are to go to,” screamed Mademoiselle 
 de Maran, in a fury. “ Is my house intended as a place of refuge 
 for idle members of the Institute 1 Good God ! what’s he doing 
 now 1 That's right, he is breaking one of my screens now. It is 
 really past all endurance — such a mischievous being is a perfect 
 pest — a complete plague !” And Mademoiselle de Maran was com- 
 pelled to snatch the screen (already considerably damaged) out of 
 M. Bisson’s hands. 
 
 “ It is really astonishing what little solid work there is nowa- 
 days ; that comes of the present exaggerated mania for production,” 
 observed M. Bisson with a meditative air, as he took up a little 
 chimney-brush, and began to stir the fire with it, which put my 
 aunt into a still more violent passion. 
 
 We used to be much diverted with scenes of this description, 
 which were, indeed, of constant occurrence ; for M. Bisson would 
 come back again, at the end of two or three days, quite forgetting 
 all that had happened, and Mademoiselle de Maran could not bear a 
 grudge against him. 
 
 After receiving company in the morning, we dined with Made- 
 moiselle de Maran, who, detesting restraint, never invited any 
 body. She kept an excellent table, was a great gourmande , and 
 indulged a whim which was to us a source of insuperable disgust, 
 Her maitre d'hotel , Servien, used to take every dish upon the table 
 to her, and she tasted them all ; she would often — you must excuse 
 these details, my friend — help us with her fingers, and she then 
 made her dog, Felix, who was at that time an invalid, sometimes 
 dine out of her plate. 
 
 The time occupied by dinner was a perfect torture to us. We 
 went back into the drawing-room for a moment or two, and 
 stopped there till Mademoiselle de Maran fell fast asleep in her 
 arm-chair, an invariable custom of hers. Her servants had orders 
 never to awake her, and to request any persons who might, by 
 chance, have arrived on an early evening visit, to wait in another 
 drawing-room. 
 
 About eight o’clock, I and Blondeau went up with Ursula, into 
 our own room, where we talked, read, and played music, till it was 
 time for tea. We never appeared at Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 soirees , who received but few ladies, and those, generally, about her 
 own age. 
 
 You may conceive, my friend, that, accustomed as we were, to 
 this monotonous life, we naturally became rather dazzled at the 
 prospect of balls and parties, held out to us by my aunt. Our first 
 
82 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 feeling was a joyous one ; but reflection by degrees turned our 
 mirth into melancholy. 
 
 The night before the ball was, to me, a singularly disturbed one, 
 and I became more sad and gloomy as the hour of this much 
 talked of fete approached. I had never had the felicity of enjoying 
 a mother’s love, and never, perhaps, did I more regret it than at 
 that instant. I have since learnt by experience, that my instinct 
 did not deceive me ; for, true it is, that the protecting and im- 
 posing tenderness of a mother is never so indispensable as when 
 we make our first entrance on the stage of society. 
 
 Every body knows that the ceremonious appearance of a young 
 girl at those parties, to which the duties of education have hitherto 
 kept her a stranger, encourages and authorizes, as it were, the pre- 
 tensions of those who are privileged to ask her in marriage, and 
 whether with or without reason, there is commonly so much confi- 
 dence in the sagacity of a mother’s heart, that certain projects, and 
 certain hopes, which neither deserve nor are likely to succeed, are 
 afraid to expose themselves to that maternal penetration, which is 
 at once so attentive and so distrustful. 
 
 When, on the other hand, a young girl happens to be an orphan, 
 however great the affection she may be presumed to rely upon, she 
 is, nevertheless, believed, nay, known to be more isolated and less 
 protected, and if rich, she is looked upon as a species of prey, or 
 prize, if you prefer the expression, to which all and every one choose 
 to put in their claim. 
 
 Without being able to account so clearly for the uneasy feeling 
 which kept me restless half the night, I yet had a kind of vague 
 foreshadowing of these thoughts, and I was affronted — almost, in- 
 deed, irritated, at the idea that strangers were about to examine 
 me, comment upon me, calculate my fortune, and weigh my advan- 
 tages of birth, for the purpose of giving me a more or less advan- 
 tageous class among the girls in the matrimonial market. And I 
 fancied that I should feel none of these scruples, were I accom- 
 panied by a mother. 
 
 I had another cause of dissatisfaction, almost, indeed, of actual 
 grief ; for, without agreeing with my aunt’s prejudices against my 
 cousin, I was yet so accustomed to hear Mademoiselle de Maran 
 call Ursula ugly and unaccomplished, that I ended by fearing the 
 world would confirm my aunt’s judgment, and that my friend would 
 find out she had made a complete failure. 
 
 I dreaded lest Ursula, when once in the full glare of society, 
 should, in spite of her sweet disposition, be jealous of the frivolous 
 advantages which I possessed over her, and lest that jealousy 
 should, perchance, be converted into a feeling still more bitter — 
 that of hatred. 
 
 Hitherto, at least, her self-love had never suffered except in the 
 presence of a few friends of Mademoiselle de Maran’s ; but what 
 would be the result, if it should be cruelly and publicly wounded by 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 a contemptuous indifference ? I can assure you my friend, that 
 this was, perhaps, my greatest anxiety, so precious, in my eyes, 
 was Ursula’s friendship. Besides, without saying a word to her 
 about my plans, I was seriously considering how I should share my 
 own fortune with her. Nor was this one of those exaggerated 
 feelings which the impetuosity of youth forgets almost as soon as 
 it has conceived ; it was, on the contrary, a resolution steadily 
 formed, and to realize which, more effectually, I had determined to 
 say nothing to my aunt on the subject ; but to lay down this gift 
 to Ursula as the first clause in my marriage contract. 
 
 You will, doubtless, laugh, my friend, at my simplicity in affairs 
 of interest, as people call them, but I thank Heaven that I did not 
 understand them better or sooner than I did, for to that ignorance 
 I have been indebted for some happy moments. 
 
 At last the day of the ball arrived. In spite of her ugliness and 
 careless style of dress, Mademoiselle de Maran’s taste was exquisite, 
 and her constant habit of criticising everything, and her detestation 
 of all that was young and beautiful, had rendered her so difficult 
 to please, that what she approved was sure to be faultless. She 
 had had two beautiful and exactly similar dresses made for us. In 
 after years I have asked myself how Mademoiselle de Maran could 
 have been so generous as not to have made me ridiculous by some 
 glaring instance of bad taste either in my dress or in the way my 
 hair was arranged ; she might easily have done this, and the 
 ridicule would have long stuck to me, for the world’s first im- 
 pression is often an indelible one ; but my aunt was above so 
 paltry a revenge. She wanted, and she obtained a deadlier one. 
 
 Were I not afraid of disturbing the order of events, by mention- 
 ing to you here, circumstances which I did not learn till much later, 
 you would perceive, my friend, that at this period of my life, I was 
 already almost hemmed in by that hatred which Mademoiselle de 
 Maran had set in motion against me with a certainty of foresight 
 which proved she possessed a most deep and most fatal kuowlcdge 
 of the human heart. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TIIB BALL. 
 
 Early in the morning Ursula and myself began to converse upon 
 the important events that were to take place that evening. I found 
 my cousin was in very low spirits, with no confidence in herself, 
 and determined not to go to the ball. She told me she had spent 
 the night in tears ; she did not, however, look either pale or 
 fatigued ; but had merely a melancholy expression on her counte- 
 o 3 
 
84 
 
 TIIH OBPIIAX. 
 
 nance, which lent it fresh charms. I can see her now, with her 
 head drooping, her forehead concealed by her masses of dark hair, 
 scarcely in appearance able to support herself upright, her hands 
 crossed upon her knees, and sighing every now and then, as she 
 raised her eyes, veiled by tears, towards heaven. 
 
 “ Ursula, Ursula, my sister !” I exclaimed, tenderly embracing 
 her ; “ take courage, I beseech you ; dismiss your terrors ; am I not 
 with you h I who am as ignorant as yourself of that world we are 
 about to enter, and our dread of which, is a childish one, I am 
 certain. No one will take any notice of us, and by degrees we 
 shall grow quite accustomed to our situation. As we are always 
 together, it will be a happiness to confide to each other our mutual 
 observations. Well, then, even if we are awkward and embarrassed 
 on this our first appearance, we shall still be able, take my word 
 for it, to communicate some little malicious discovery to each 
 other.” 
 
 Ursula smiled, and replied, while she tenderly pressed my hands 
 within her own — 
 
 “ Forgive me, Matilda ; but I really cannot tell you how afraid 
 I feel of the world. Never — never, I am certain, shall I be able 
 to grow accustomed to it ; nor is this mere childishness ; it is, 
 on the contrary, the natural dictate of conscience and duty ; 
 surely — surely, when, like me, one is without beauty, riches, or 
 accomplishments, it does not become one to push forward, but to 
 remain in obscurity, and not to meet contempt half way. For you 
 it is all very well ; you have every requisite for appearing with 
 brilliant success in the world ; go, therefore, into that world alone. 
 I will wait at home for you, and my happiness shall be, to hear you 
 relate your success. As for all these splendid fetes, why, I shall 
 see them through your eyes, and that will be sufficient for me/’ 
 And then she added, smiling gracefully — “ Come, come, I will be 
 a Cinderella — not the unhappy and forgotten one of the fairy tale ; 
 but a voluntary Cinderella, happy in seeing you beautiful and ad- 
 mired ! Yes, when you return from the ball, quite tired of 
 pleasure, quite satiated with flatteries, my glance of tender uneasi- 
 ness shall welcome you, and you shall repose from your successes in 
 the calm of my friendship/' 
 
 If, my friend, you had seen and heard Ursula at that moment, 
 you would have thought her, notwithstanding the irregularity of 
 her features, not merely beautiful, but actually enchanting. Her 
 emotion gave so pure — so sweet an intonation to her voice, her 
 blue eyes had so gentle, so imposing an expression, that one was 
 irresistibly subjugated. 
 
 v Ursula !” I exclaimed, “ how can you be so distrustful of 
 yourself, when you can look and talk in that manner 1 I who am 
 your sister — I who have never quitted you — I who ought to have 
 become accustomed to your voice and look, I myself think you so 
 beautiful at this moment, that were I capable of jealousy, I should 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 85 
 
 be jealous of you. You do not know — you have never, if I 
 may say so, seen yourself. Believe me, then, in spite of Made- 
 moiselle de Maran’s spiteful observations, and in spite of your own 
 distrust, you are really charming. Do you think your sister 
 would deceive you ? Come, Ursula — come, my friend, take 
 courage ; let us be brave — let us meet this awful day with reso- 
 lution, and to-morrow, perhaps, we shall laugh at ourselves. In 
 a word, I declare I will not go to this ball, unless you accom- 
 pany me.” 
 
 “ Matilda, do not insist upon it, I implore you.” 
 
 “ Ursula, I implore you in my turn.” 
 
 “ I cannot.” 
 
 “ Ursula, this is cruel ; you know my aunt will reproach you 
 with having refused to go to this ball, in order to prevent my 
 going there ; you know her — you know how miserable it makes 
 me when I see you unjustly reproved. Well, then, will you cause 
 me so much pain ? Ursula, my sister, if you refuse me, it will be 
 the same as telling me I am indifferent to your troubles, and surely, 
 that is a reproach which I do not deserve.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Matilda, how can you speak so V’ exclaimed my cousin. 
 “ I will hesitate no longer ; I will go to this ball.” 
 
 As the fatal moment approached, I became more and more 
 uneasy ; not so much, however, on my own account, as on Ursula’s. 
 Notwithstanding the seeming security I displayed, I knew not 
 whether she would look well in her ball dress. In order that my 
 first impression of her appearance might be sufficiently vivid, in- 
 stead of going to attend her toilet, I went down into the drawing- 
 room, as soon as I was dressed myself, and I found there Made- 
 moiselle de Maran and the Duke de Versac, who was to accompany 
 us to the Embassy. 
 
 I have no longer, my friend, any pretensions to admiration, so 
 far distant are now my first days of beauty and youth ; an! I am 
 now so little like what I was then, that I can talk to you of Matilda 
 at seventeen, as of a stranger ; and, besides, the very knowing how 
 to say “ I was beautiful,” is an act of courage, modesty, and 
 humility. 
 
 Imagine, then, your friend, about ten years ago in the full 
 bloom of her youth ; her light hair in bands, adorned with a spray 
 of crimson heath, and dressed in a white crape robe of the utmost 
 simplicity, trimmed only with three large bouquets of the wild 
 heath, similar to those in her hair. 
 
 The Dauphiness had been so extremely kind as to select these 
 rare Cape flowers herself from the hot houses at Meudon, and to 
 send them to Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 My waist was extremely slender, and M. de Versac, I believe, as 
 I was putting on my gloves, complimented me on my well rounded 
 arm. I must say nothing about my foot and hand, for they, and 
 they only are still unchanged. 
 
86 
 
 THE OBPEA!*. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran must have thought me looking extremely 
 to advantage, perhaps too much so, for when she looked at me, she 
 could not help frowning, notwithstanding she was so accustomed to 
 bestow upon me the most exaggerated praises. She nevertheless 
 checked this first impulse, and said to M. de Versac — 
 
 “ Is not that dear girl quite charming, and as beautiful as 
 a star T 
 
 “ She is, luckily, so sensible, that we need not fear to praise 
 her beauty to her face,” replied M. de Versac with a smile. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran wore one of her eternal dresses of 
 carmelite silk, and she had on — a thing I never saw her wear 
 before — a very plain cap, adorned with a bimch of marigolds. 
 
 I waited uneasily for Ursula, who, at last, made her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Do not accuse me of exaggeration, my friend, when I tell you 
 that I scarcely recognised her, so wonderfully improved was her 
 appearance. 
 
 She was coiffee to perfection. Her magnificent, dark hair, 
 parted in the middle of her forehead, fell down on each side of 
 her cheeks in long ringlets, descending nearly to her shoulders ; 
 her pale complexion, with its slight rosy tinge ; her half veiled 
 glance ; her gentle and melancholy smile, seemed to personify 
 in her the very ideal of a dreamy melancholy, an expression of 
 countenance quite unattainable by features which are merely of a 
 regular cast of beauty. 
 
 One might say that a melancholy countenance would seem to be 
 mourning for the want of some perfection, so that it acquires even 
 a fresh grace from that kind of modest distrust of itself. In 
 reading Shakspeare, I have always summoned to my memory 
 Ursula, as she appeared the night of that ball, in order to realize 
 the great poet’s Ophelia to my fancy. Instead of the slight stoop 
 for which she was generally remarkable, my cousin proved, by the 
 extreme flexibility of her gait, that her figure was perfect, and yet, 
 as she even then kept her forehead slightly bent down, like a 
 flower bending upon its stalk, this very movement which gave a 
 curve of exquisite elegance to her neck, increased still more the 
 fascination of her appearance. You might read upon her coun- 
 tenance a melancholy, checked with gentleness, which moved among 
 the world’s pleasures without sharing them. Ursula’s look, which 
 was almost an imploring one, seemed, in short, to ask forgiveness 
 for her remaining insensible to pleasures from which some sorrowful 
 pre-occupation took all interest in her eyes. 
 
 I was used to see Ursula suffering and resigned ; but on that day 
 she wa ssorrow itself and resignation, 'poeticised , or, as I should say 
 now, dressed out on purpose for the ball. 
 
 But, alas ! epigrams will not avenge me for the cruel mischief 
 that friend inflicted. Could I believe such dissimulation ? And 
 yet, no, no ; it is not her I ought to accuse, but Mademoiselle de 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 87 
 
 Maran, whose insidious taunts but, those melancholy discoveries 
 
 will arrive only too soon — let us return to my history. 
 
 I had eagerly approached Ursula, to take her hand, and to con- 
 gratulate her upon being so enchanting, 
 
 M. de Versac exclaimed — 
 
 “ For Heaven’s sake, stand so, with your hands joined, for a 
 minute ! What an adorable contrast ! You, Matilda, beautiful — 
 bewitching — radiant with happiness and grace ; you will be the 
 queen of all our parties — and you, Ursula, a touching image of 
 that melancholy which smiles even while the tears are in 
 its eyes.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran burst into a loud laugh, and said to M„ 
 de Versac — 
 
 “ Why do you stop half way in such a fine path ? Pray con- 
 tinue till you get to a comparison between the haughty rose and 
 the humble violet. What nonsense you talk, with your adorable 
 contrasts ! The rose has nearly a hundred thousand livres a-year, 
 and the violet has not got a half-penny ; that’s the reason why one 
 holds her head upright, and why the other keeps hers down with 
 such modesty.” 
 
 M. de Versac’s comparison, Mademoiselle de Maran’s spiteful 
 remarks, and, perhaps, the sight of Ursula, whom I had never 
 seen looking so pretty, gave me, for the first time in my life, 
 a feeling of jealousy, which, however, yielded to dissatisfaction with 
 myself. 
 
 Not in the least doubting my aunt’s words, I fancied that I had 
 the look of haughty satisfaction which is bestowed by wealth, and I 
 envied Ursula’s interesting modesty, which gave such a touching 
 charm to her features. Doubtless, this evil thought was of short 
 duration — doubtless, I was ashamed of my own want of generosity 
 in envying my cousin — my dearest friend — the very interest which 
 her poverty created, doubtless, in short, had it not been for my 
 aunt’s malicious observation, I should never have felt that move- 
 ment of jealousy, excusable, perhaps, since I, the rich one, envied 
 her, the poor. But, still, this feeling left an impression of bitter- 
 ness behind it. 
 
 Just as we were setting olf, M. de Versac said to Mademoiselle de 
 Maran — 
 
 “ Dear me, what a memory I have got ! G-ontran returned from 
 England this morning, and I never told you a word about it.” 
 
 “ Your nephew ? Well, then, there is a partner already, for 
 these young ladies.” 
 
 I looked at Ursula with astonishment ; for, neither M. de Versac 
 nor Mademoiselle de Maran had ever mentioned this nephew’s 
 name in our presence. 
 
 We were just getting into the carriage, when one of my aunt’s 
 most intimate friends came and begged for a short interview with 
 her, upon an affair of great consequence. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 88 
 
 Mademoiselle de Marairwent into her library, and M. de Versae 
 took up the evening paper. 
 
 Under pretence of putting a pin right, in my coiffure , I took 
 Ursula into Mademoiselle de Maran’s room, and throwing myself 
 into her arms, I frankly confessed the movement of jealousy I 
 had felt, and with tears in my eyes, implored her forgiveness. 
 
 My frankness moved Ursula, also, to tears, and she comforted me 
 with the most tender professions of affection. I then returned into 
 the drawing-room with a calm and happy heart, and the firm reso- 
 lution — as I had told Ursula — of endeavouring not to look like 
 an heiress. 
 
 — — o 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION. 
 
 On entering the first salon of the Embassy, accompanied by M. de 
 Versae, I felt my resolution fail me, and it required the very 
 graceful and kind reception given me, by the Ambassadress of 
 Austria, to restore me, in some degree, to myself. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran entered, with Ursula leaning on 
 her arm. 
 
 I had never been able to appreciate so well, the influence exer- 
 cised by my aunt, and the terror which she inspired ; the most 
 agreeable and most fashionable woman of the day could not have 
 received more attention, or have been the object of more gallantry, 
 on her entrance into the ball-room, than was Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, and she received the deference, and the eager homage of 
 the company with a most lofty air, and a patronising, nay, almost 
 a contemptuous affability. 
 
 As w« proceeded to the side of the gallery, where the dancing 
 was going on, M. de Versae, who gave me his arm, pointed out to 
 me the most distinguished persons present. We stopped for an 
 instant near one of the doors of the gallery, and I there heard 
 the following words, which passed between two persons whom I 
 was, however, unable to see : — 
 
 “ Well, I suppose you have heard that Lancry has returned 
 from England ; I have just seen him ; he is more brilhant 
 than ever.” 
 
 “ Indeed ! he is really come back, then,” was the reply. “ How 
 glad the Duchess de Richeville must be, for she has worn her weeds 
 ever since he went — poor woman !” 
 
 I perceived, by a hasty movement, which M. de Versae made to 
 force a way through the crowd, that he wished to divert my atten- 
 
The 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 89 
 
 tion from this conversation, which it was not becoming I should 
 hear, and of which his nephew, M. Gontran de Lancry, was the 
 hero. I followed M. de Versac, without thinking much, at the time, 
 of this incident ; before I had entered the ball-room, I fancied I 
 should be embarrassed by every thing — by my countenance, my 
 gait, and my very look ; but when the first emotion was passed, 
 and I was once in the midst of that society to which I belonged, 
 I felt, not exactly restored to confidence, but, (if I may use the ex- 
 pression) as if I were among my own connections. We scarcely 
 ever feel restraint or timidity except when we enter a sphere either 
 above or below our own, and I soon recovered my powers of 
 observation. 
 
 On entering the dancing gallery, I was almost dazzled by the 
 splendour and magnificence of the various dresses. Madame de 
 Mirecourt, a friend of my aunt’s, and who was acting as chaperon 
 to a young lady recently married, offered to make room for us near 
 herself ; Mademoiselle de Maran accepted the offer, and Ursula and 
 myself sat down between Madame de Mirecourt and my aunt. M. 
 de Versac now left us, to bring his nephew, whom he wished to 
 introduce to us. 
 
 “ Well,” I said in a low voice to my cousin, “ it is not 
 so very terrible after all. Do you feel a little more courageous 
 now r 
 
 “ No,” replied Ursula, “ I cannot conquer my emotion ; I 
 still tremble, and I can scarcely perceive what is going on 
 near us.” 
 
 “ For my part,” I gaily replied, “ I can perceive very well,” and 
 to encourage her a little, I added, “ I must confess I think it is a 
 beautiful sight. What a pity you cannot enjoy it ! A ball is, de- 
 cidedly, a very pretty thing.” 
 
 As I was speaking thus, with an artless joy, my aunt, by whose 
 side I was sitting, burst out into a loud laugh. Several persons, 
 who were standing up before us, in the intervals of a waltz, turned 
 round, and Madame de Mirecourt, who was on the other side of 
 Ursula, leaned forward, and said to my aunt — 
 
 “ What, in the world, are you laughing at ?” 
 
 “ How can one help it, in the company of that little satirical 
 darling ?” replied Mademoiselle de Maran, attracting her friend’s 
 notice to me. “ If you could only hear the droll and malicious 
 remarks she makes — it is enough to kill one. You had better look 
 to yourself ; for she bites pretty sharply, I can tell you.” 
 
 Then turning to me, my aunt added, in a lower voice, and in 
 a kind of affectionately scolding manner — “ Will you be good 
 enough, mademoiselle, not to be so witty ? People will say I have 
 taught you to be so malicious.” 
 
 All this was said in a subdued tone of voice, and yet so as to be 
 heard by all who were near us. I looked at my aunt with the 
 utmost astonishment, and Ursula asked me, in a whisper, “ what 
 
90 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 droll remark I had made to Mademoiselle de Maran, and what 
 absurdity I had been ridiculing ?” 
 
 “ Why, none at all,” was my reply ; “ I do not understand a 
 word of what she has been talking about.” 
 
 Now, my friend, I will explain the enigma : — 
 
 My aunt was beginning to represent me as that satirical per- 
 sonage which you yourself long believed me to be, and which, by 
 the way, was one of your strongest prejudices against me. 
 
 Thus, thanks to Mademoiselle de Maran’s perfidious observations, 
 several persons standing before us (one of whom, the kind and 
 charming Lady Fitz-Allan, told me this afterwards) thought that 
 I had been turning them into ridicule. It was my first appearance 
 in the world, and for several reasons, which you can easily under- 
 stand, I was an object of some attention, so that my aunt’s excla- 
 mation, at my malicious observations , was sure to spread, and did, 
 in fact, spread everywhere in an instant. 
 
 No reputation is more fatal to a woman than that of being 
 satirical, even though she be wittily so. She is feared and calum- 
 niated by fools, becomes an object of jealousy to clever, and of 
 repugnance to good-natured and generous persons ; and so before 
 I had been at the ball for half an hour, I already had my 
 
 enemies. 
 
 Lady Fitz-Allan has since told me, that my satirical disposition 
 was, for an instant, the topic of the ball-room, and people talked 
 of nothing else but Mademoiselle Mathilde de Maran’s bitter irony ; 
 this was the name I now went by, in order to distinguish me from 
 my aunt. 
 
 No one, indeed, had actually heard my sarcasms ; but, as it in- 
 variably happens, every body was talking about them. 
 
 My aunt wished to put the finishing hand to her work, 
 
 and a few minutes afterwards, during a fresh pause in the 
 
 waltz, she said to Ursula, so loud, that every body could 
 
 hear her — 
 
 “ God bless my soul, my poor child, don’t look so serious 
 and melancholy ; do, appear a little in accordance with your age, 
 if you can ; what do you mean by this shyness ?” 
 
 These words of my aunt’s, which were listened to, repeated, 
 and commented upon, established, as a positive fact, that I was 
 as satirical and giddy, as my cousin was timid, sensible, and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 You know the world, my friend — you know how rarely it is 
 turned from its first impressions, and hence you will understand 
 what a powerful influence these few words of my aunt’s were able 
 to exert over my future destiny. 
 
 Alas ! I must confess that my own inexperience and vanity 
 increased, still more, the effect of these mischievous insinuations ; 
 afterwards, indeed, I bitterly lamented that I had ever acquired 
 such a reputation for satire ; but, at first, I was weak enough to 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 91 
 
 feel almost flattered by, and proud of, the unenviable distinction. 
 I thought myself handsome, and in my opinion, this character for 
 irony was a certificate of my wit. 
 
 At the end of the waltz, M. de Yersac approached my aunt, with 
 his nephew, M. Gontran de Lancry. 
 
 I confess I became almost motionless with surprise, at the sight 
 of M. de Lancry, who was then about thirty years of age. It would 
 be difficult to find a man more thoroughly agreeable, or one of a 
 more seductive appearance. 
 
 I fancy, my friend, you will be astonished at the impartiality 
 with which I am going to describe M. de Lancry to you. Indeed, 
 in writing these lines, I have been myself surprised, at my ability 
 of recalling my first impressions with such faithfulness, and yet, 
 of isolating them, at the same time, from the impressions which 
 afterwards succeeded them. Judge what power 1 possess over 
 myself, or rather how melancholy must be the state of my heart, 
 when I can so calmly and coolly describe to you, M. de Lancry, as 
 he then was. 
 
 Alas ! I shall not always, perhaps, possess the same firmness. 
 Perhaps, hereafter, some dear, but cruel, remembrances will make 
 my hand tremble with a painful emotion, while it relates some of 
 the passages of my life. 
 
 At all events, I will attempt to recal the impressions I then felt, 
 and do not smile if I enter into some details which may appear 
 childish. I was then extremely young, and I had never seen, at 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s, any person capable of being compared, 
 in any respect, to M. de Lancry. 
 
 He had formerly been one of the King’s pages, and had served 
 with great distinction in Spain. He had afterwards been attached, 
 as chevalier cChonneur, to an important embassy, had, at the end of 
 a few years, given up the military profession, and had been named 
 one of the Gentlemen of the Chamber to the King, thanks to his 
 Majesty’s kindness, and to the protection of M. de Versac. 
 
 I can recal, with rare precision, our first interview at the Aus- 
 trian Ambassador’s ball. There had been a grand reception at the 
 chateau , and many of the gentlemen who had places at Court, had 
 come to the ball in uniform. M. de Lancry, among the rest, had 
 just left the Tuileries ; he wore the brilliant dress peculiar to the 
 office he filled, had round his neck the red ribbon and golden cross 
 of a Commander of the Legion d’honneur, and wore, beside, the 
 showy insignia of a foreign order. 
 
 M. de Lancry was of the middle size ; but his figure was 
 exquisitely elegant ; his features, which were perfectly regular, 
 were — to use my aunt’s expression, which was true enough — those 
 of “ some young Athenian Greek ; but animated with all the 
 quickness and grace of a Parisian.” He was, she would say, “ the 
 very ideal of prettiness” He had chesnut-coloured hair, dark eyes, 
 beautiful teeth, and a hand and foot which a woman might have 
 
92 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 envied. I told you, just now, he was about thirty years of age ; 
 but he did not look five and twenty. 
 
 No wonder, then, that such physical advantages, set off, as they 
 were, by those honorable distinctions, which are generally the pri- 
 vilege of more mature years, and which always seem to announce 
 merit in the wearer, should have rendered M. de Lancry a most 
 remarkable personage. 
 
 As he approached my aunt, she extended her hand to him, 
 and said — 
 
 “ Good evening, my dear Gontran ; your uncle has only just 
 told me that you had returned from London. Well, what have 
 you been about in that delightful place ?” 
 
 M. de Lancry smiled, went close up to Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 and whispered a few words, which I was unable to hear. 
 
 “ Will you hold your tongue !” exclaimed my aunt, laughing, and 
 she added, “ Luckily, you may tell anything to an old mother 
 hunchback like me ; but, still, by way of penance, you shall dance 
 with these little girls.” 
 
 Then turning to me, my aunt said to M. de Lancry, with that 
 extremely dignified look which she could put on, better than any 
 one, when she liked — 
 
 “ My niece, Mademoiselle Mathilde de Maran.” 
 
 M. de Lancry bowed respectfully. 
 
 " Our cousin, Mademoiselle Ursule d’Orbeval,” added my aunt, 
 with a shade of difference in her tone almost imperceptible, and 
 yet sufficiently marked, to make people understand that she wished 
 to establish a kind of distinction between myself and my friend, 
 and one to my advantage. 
 
 M. de Lancry bowed a second time. 
 
 I cast down my eyes, and felt myself blushing deeply ; my 
 hand was close to Ursula’s and I pressed hers, but almost 
 timidly. 
 
 “ Will Mademoiselle do me the honour of accepting me as a 
 partner for the next country dance ?” said M. de Lancry. 
 
 I assented, casting, as I did so, an uneasy look at Mademoiselle 
 de Maran. 
 
 M. de Lancry bowed to me, and said, addressing himself to 
 Ursula — 
 
 “ May I hope, mademoiselle, that you will deign to grant me the 
 same favour for the second country dance V’ 
 
 “ Certainly, sir,” replied Ursula with a sigh, and as she bent 
 down her head, she cast, from under her long eye-lashes, a look of 
 melancholy upon M. de Lancry. 
 
 At this instant, a very pretty woman, who was in one blaze of 
 jewels, came up to us, leaning on the arm of a young English 
 Colonel. Her complexion was extremely dark, her figure slender, 
 her deportment most elegant ; the expression of her countenance 
 was haughty and bold, and she had large, piercing, black eyes, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 93 
 
 which were placed in rather close proximity to her aquiline 
 nose. 
 
 “ You quite forget your friends, M. de Lancry,” she said, in a 
 sonorous, yet sweet voice. 
 
 M. de Lancry turned quickly round, restrained a somewhat 
 visible movement of embarrassment, and said, with a low 
 bow — 
 
 “ I do not deserve, Madame la Duchesse, so amiable a reproach ; 
 I only arrived this morning from London, and I was hoping to pay 
 you my respects to-morrow.” 
 
 How unerring, my friend, are certain presentiments ; the instant 
 I heard M. de Lancry address this Lady as Madame la Duchesse, I 
 did not, for a moment, doubt that she was Madame de Richeville, 
 whose name I had heard so indiscreetly coupled with that of M. do 
 Lancry. 
 
 The country dance was about to begin. 
 
 “ See how good-natured I am,” said the Duchess, to M. de Lancry ; 
 “ I forgive you your forgetfulness, and I will even tell you in con- 
 fidence, that I am not engaged for this country dance ; am I not 
 generous enough ?” 
 
 M. de Lancry looked at her again with an air of astonishment — 
 almost, indeed, of stupefaction, and replied with rather evident 
 constraint. 
 
 “ And am not I fortunate, almost too much so ? I might have 
 danced this country dance with you, madame, and I am going to 
 have the pleasure of dancing it with Mademoiselle de Maran, whom 
 I have just had the honour of inviting.” 
 
 Madame de Richeville, thinking M. de Lancry meant my aunt, 
 and that he was joking, burst out laughing, and exclaimed — 
 
 “ If you are come all the way from England, to dance with 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, there must, certainly, be an “ Eccentric 
 club” in London, and you wish to distinguish yourself as one of its 
 most intrepid members — is it not so ?” 
 
 M. de Lancry hastened to interrupt Madame de Richeville, who 
 was very short sighted, and had not perceived that my aunt was 
 present. 
 
 “ I am about, he observed, to have the honour of dancing with 
 Mademoiselle Mathilde de Maran,” and M. de Lancry laid a certain 
 emphasis upon the name of Mathilde , and bowed slightly 
 towards me. 
 
 “ Ah ! I understand ! She is already out, then !” observed the 
 Duchess, who, raising her little tortoise-shell eye-glass, scrutinized 
 me, with, what I fancied was, a malicious kind of curiosity. I felt 
 upon the rack. 
 
 My aunt had not lost a word of this dialogue ; seeing the 
 Duchess’s eye-glass still directed at me, she seemed to be angry, 
 and addressed her from her seat with a shrill and imperious voice, 
 in these words — 
 
94 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Well, Madame la Duchesse, don’t you think my niece a charming- 
 person ?” 
 
 “ Charming, indeed, madame,” drily replied the Duchess, as she 
 lowered her glass ; and approaching my aimt, she made her a most 
 graceful and aristocratic half curtsey. 
 
 I have found out since, that my aunt and the Duchess detested 
 one another, and this accounted for the attention with which every 
 one had examined these two equally formidable adversaries. 
 
 “ Well, madame,” continued my aunt, “ I am really delighted, for 
 the sake of this dear little girl, that you think her so charming ; 
 the approbation of a woman like yourself, madame, can bring nothing 
 but good luck to a young person who is just entering the world — 
 it is a kind of omen. And yet, in spite of that, I cannot believe, 
 madame, that my niece will ever obtain your perfection.” 
 
 Nothing could apparently be more simple, and more polite than 
 these words, and yet, I was well enough acquainted with the accent 
 with which my aunt spoke them, to feel assured that they concealed 
 some malicious meaning. And elfectively, when I raised my eyes, 
 and looked at Madame de Richeville and the persons who surrounded 
 us, I perceived that the Duchess was affecting a calmness she did 
 not, in reality, possess, and that every body was much em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 You, my friend, must have met Madame de Richeville in the 
 world, and you, doubtless, are aware how she was talked about, and 
 how that world exaggerated, in the most odious degree, the lightness 
 of her conduct. It was said that her faults would not be tolerated 
 but for the illustrious name she bore, the power and connections of 
 her family, and her immense wealth ; it was even asserted that her 
 husband had been forced to separate himself from her. Never- 
 theless, she was always perfectly well received in the best society, 
 to which she herself, indeed, belonged ; the Dauphiness, however, 
 on the reception days at the chateau, , seemed, by her freezing 
 manner to words the Duchess, to show how much she blamed the 
 lady’s conduct. 
 
 Now, then, you will understand all the bitterness of Mademoiselle 
 de Maran’s observation, who, taking advantage of her first success, 
 struck a last blow at Madame de Richeville, by exclaiming — 
 
 “ God bless my soul, madame, what beautiful rubies you have 
 got there ! Didn’t they formerly belong to that excellent, old 
 Dowager, Duchess de Richeville % What a pity the poor old lady 
 was not able to see you with them on, and how delighted 
 M. de Richeville, must be to see you wearing his mother’s 
 jewels.” 
 
 In order fully to understand the cruelty of this remark of 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s, you must know, my friend, there was a 
 prevalent report (which, however, I afterwards found to be false) 
 that the Duke de Richeville had given these family jewels to his 
 wife, on her marriage, and that on his separation from the Duchess, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 95 
 
 he had, with extreme delicacy of feeling, forborne to ask her for 
 them back, a delicacy which she so little imitated as to continue 
 wearing them as usual. 
 
 Everybody seemed thunderstruck at Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 maliciousness. Madame de Richeville, however, had sufficient 
 power over herself to conceal her resentment, and casting upon my 
 aunt a glance of mingled sweetness and dignity, she said to her, 
 almost affectionately — 
 
 “ You are really too good, madame ; I wish I could repay the 
 mark of interest which you are so kind as to show towards me. 
 But — now I think of it — I can, at least, tell you a piece of news 
 which will, I hope, cause you a lively pleasure. One of your friends 
 is just coming back from Italy, where he has been staying for 
 several years, without any one’s knowing what had become of him. 
 But, I see you are uneasy, and I will not tantalize your curiosity 
 any longer. Well, then,” added Madame de Richeville with a 
 graceful and confidential look, “ well, then, you must know that 
 M. de Mortagne will be here in a few days. Yes, I have heard of 
 him from Venice. They say the story of his disappearance is quite 
 a terrible romance. Confess, madame, that you are quite surprised, 
 and wMch delighted at his return .” 
 
 Madame de Richeville aimed these last words at Mademoiselle do 
 Maran, as if they were a dagger-thrust, and then, as she heard 
 the music preluding for the country dance, she gaily said to M. 
 de Lancry — 
 
 “ I will offer you a waltz, as a compensation for the country dance 
 which you have refused me.” And turning to the English Colonel, 
 on whose arm she was leaning, she said to him — 
 
 “ Let us go up into the little gallery ; I should like to see this 
 country dance.” 
 
 I had never before seen Mademoiselle de Maran lose her self- 
 possession, which however, she certainly did, at the very first words 
 uttered by Madame de Richeville. But, when the Duchess said, 
 “ M. de Mortagne will be here in a few days,” my aunt turned 
 quite pale, and appeared completely overcome, to the great surprise 
 of those who knew her audacity, and who did not understand the 
 hidden meaning of Madame de Richeville’s reply. 
 
 The country dance now began. M. de Lancry had the good 
 taste to spare me those compliments which are always embarrassing 
 to a young person. He was very unaffected, and very gay ; but 
 without the least tinge of malice ; he spoke to me of Mademoiselle 
 de Maran with an affectionate respect, and of M. de Versac with 
 tenderness ; he admired greatly the interesting expression of 
 Ursula's countenance, and asked me what great sorrow it was which 
 made her so melancholy 1 He had a taste for music, and we, ac- 
 cordingly, conversed upon that art. I preferred the German 
 school, while he gave his preference to the Italian, and he displayed 
 
06 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 so much good-nature in the discussion, that at the dnd of the 
 country dance, I was scarcely afraid of him. 
 
 After he had conducted me back to my place, and reminded 
 Ursula of the promise she had given, he went away, to pay his 
 respects to several ladies of his acquaintance. 
 
 “ Good Heavens !’' observed Ursula to me, “ how did you find 
 courage enough to talk so much 1 I was quite lost in admiration 
 at you.” 
 
 “ Oh !'’ I replied, “ at first I felt very nervous ; but I recovered 
 my courage by degrees, and then M. de Lancry appears so good- 
 natured — so unaffected — you will see yourself. 
 
 “ Oh ! I am sure I shall scarcely dare to answer him,” said 
 Ursula timidly. 
 
 “ You are wrong to say so ; he thinks you are an enchanting 
 person, and told me so just now, and, perhaps, that is the reason 
 which made me think him so agreeable.” 
 
 My conversation with Ursula was interrupted by numerous male 
 acquaintances of my aunt’s who now came up to pay their respects 
 to her She introduced to us those among them who were of 
 a dancing age, and I and Ursula had soon a great number of 
 engagements. 
 
 My attention was so absorbed by the dancing that I had scarcely 
 time, however desirous, to reflect upon Madame de Richeville’s 
 last words, about M. de Mortagne, of whom I always entertained 
 a grateful remembrance, since he had been my first protector in 
 my days of childhood. For the last eight or nine years his name 
 had scarcely ever been uttered in my aunt’s house. I now first 
 remembered that I had heard it merely said, once or twice, that he 
 had not been heard of lately ; this, however, occasioned me no 
 surprise, as his mode of life was so strange a one, and he was 
 known to be such an inveterate traveller. The only thing which 
 I thought extraordinary was the overwhelming effect which the 
 news of his return had produced upon Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 I was roused from these reflections by the sound of a waltz, and 
 among the couples borne along in the giddy whirl, I beheld M. de 
 Lancry and the Duchess de Riche ville. Her figure was perfection- 
 itself, and like him, she was a most accomplished waltzer. The 
 long ringlets of her jet black hair floated gracefully round her 
 head, which was a most expressive one, and was then thrown 
 slightly backwards. 
 
 This woman must either have felt strong in her own innocence, 
 or must have held the world’s judgments in utter contempt, to have 
 braved it so openly after Mademoiselle de Maran’s cruel words, 
 which had just, as it were, re-echoed all the real or supposed 
 scandalous passages in Madame de Richeville’s conduct. I was 
 much surprised at the expression of M. de Lancry’s features during 
 this waltz ; he seemed by turns contemptuous, ironical, and irritated, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 97 
 
 and when he conducted Madame de Richeville back to her place I 
 fancied she was smiling with bitterness at some words that M. de 
 Lancry was addressing to her in a low tone of voice. 
 
 I experienced, why, I know not, a painful sensation when I first 
 saw M. de Lancry waltzing with Madame de Richeville. I involun- 
 tarily recalled the dialogue I had heard, and I no longer felt any 
 doubt that she loved him. I was somewhat alarmed at her proud 
 and resolute bearing ; but when I reflected that she was a friend of 
 M. de Mortagne, who had been my protector, and, as Madame 
 Blondeau afterwards had told me, so devotedly attached to my 
 mother, I endeavoured to surmount the painful impression which 
 she had made upon my mind. I was interrupted in these re- 
 flections by the successive country dances for which my hand was 
 engaged. 
 
 My satirical disposition had already, doubtless, been heard of by 
 several of my partners, for more than one of them, thinking to 
 gratify my love of sarcasm, wasted a great deal of their would-be 
 wit, in epigrams ; some praised me in a most exaggerated degree, 
 and others made jokes which I was unable to understand. 
 
 Take them all in all, although many of them were agreeable 
 men, still most of them seemed almost without that perfect tact 
 which was such a remarkable characteristic of M. de Lancry. In- 
 deed a man must possess the greatest caution and delicacy of mind, 
 before he can put a young girl at her ease, so as to enjoy all the 
 charms of a conversation. He must employ a modified and not too 
 forcible language ; to praise her beauty, for instance, is, perhaps, 
 a want of taste, while to commend her gifts of mind, even if it be 
 flattery, is still a graceful one. A ybung girl’s gaiety is infinitely 
 more charming when you do not cause it to extend beyond a smile, 
 and you are apt to alarm the exquisite and ingenious delicacy of her 
 observations, if you reply to them by ill natured remarks on 
 others. 
 
 Do not think me vain, my friend, if I talk to you about that age 
 which, in us women, is the most charming of all. Our instincts 
 are then so noble, so generous, and our illusions such radiant ones, 
 that our very disposition, and our very thoughts, partake in the 
 habitual elevation of our souls. 
 
 Let us return to this ball. I observed that Ursula continued to 
 dance with the same graceful and touching melancholy. She did 
 not appear much interested in what was going on ; she did not, 
 however, decline a single country dance, though it was with a 
 sigh and an appearance of self-sacrifice that she accepted her 
 partners. 
 
 After drinking a cup of tea, and when we had given a look at 
 the supper-room, we left the ball. 
 
 M. de Lancry, who was leaving at the same time, met with us 
 in the waiting-room, and he went to find my aunt’s servants, and 
 brought us our pelisses. 
 h 
 
98 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 M. de Versac gave his arm to Ursula, and M. de Lancry offered 
 his to Mademoiselle de Maran, who said to him with a laugh — 
 
 “ Be kind enough not to make me such an insulting offer, 
 Gontran ; I am a nice figure to accept it — am I not ? Give your 
 arm to my niece ; I can go very well alone.” 
 
 “ When we got into the carriage, my aunt said to M. de 
 Lancry — 
 
 “ Now, recollect, Gontran, that as you are come back, I shall 
 expect to see you very often with your uncle ; you know I do not 
 choose to be neglected. By-the-bye that beautiful Duchess of yours 
 must, assuredly, wear a mask of brass, painted rose colour ; it would 
 take the fire of hell itself to make her blush ! But what am I 
 talking about before these little girls ? Well, well, good night, 
 Gontran, and look to yourself if you are not attentive to me.” 
 
 M. de Lancry assured my aunt that he would be most happy to 
 obey her, and we returned to the hotel de Maran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 THE DAY AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 There are certain impressions as there are certain landscapes, upon 
 which distance is required to bestow their full value. The day 
 after the ball, when I collected together my remembrances, and 
 recalled to mind every detail of that evening, I felt, as it were, the 
 rebound of the sensations I had then experienced. And yet — 
 why should I conceal it from you, my friend 1 among all those 
 memories, one predominated, and that one was the remembrance of 
 that waltz of Weber’s, in which M. de Lancry was the partner of 
 Madame de Richeville. The air, which was a somewhat melancholy 
 one, perpetually recurred to my thoughts, and yet, I could not re- 
 member the air of the country dance which I had danced with 
 M. de Lancry. The result of my impressions was rather a' 
 mournful one. The world, in spite of its perfect polish — in spite 
 of its exquisite and enchanting exterior, already appeared to me 
 an arena where the most ghastly wounds were inflicted, while every 
 lip was wreathed with smiles, and every brow with flowers. I was 
 but too well convinced of this, by what had taken place between 
 Mademoiselle de Maran and the Duchess de Richeville. The 
 words they had interchanged were polished ones, but some cruel 
 mystery lurked in their hidden meaning. 
 
 And yet a marked attention had been shewn me ; and 1 might be 
 assured, putting false modesty out of the question, that my beauty 
 had been remarked. I had observed that Mademoiselle de B 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 99 
 
 and Mademoiselle de P had not danced more than three or 
 
 four country dances, while I and Ursula had been compelled to 
 refuse more than one partner. It was impossible for me not to 
 catch, as I passed along, that kind of flattering murmur which is 
 always so delightful to a woman’s ear. M. de Lancry, too, beyond 
 all comparison the most agreeable cavalier of that brilliant assembly, 
 had been most assiduous in his attentions to us ; and, notwith- 
 standing all this, the result of my impressions was a bitter and a 
 melancholy one. 
 
 To that fete, however, I was indebted for one delightful 
 thought — one vague and dreamy hope — M. de Mortagne was 
 coming. 
 
 I looked forward to his return with joy, for I felt though con- 
 fusedly, the need of serious and safe advice ; and I not only 
 entertained a profound aversion for my aunt, but her very praises, 
 her very counsels and remarks kept me in a state of continual 
 uneasiness. I resembled those unhappy creatures who suspect 
 poison in everything they lift to their lips. 
 
 I was, indeed, most warmly attached to Ursula ; but she was as 
 young and inexperienced as myself, and though I had a firm 
 reliance upon the devoted affection of Blondeau, that excellent 
 woman was only able to love me blindly and without dis- 
 cernment. 
 
 M. d’Orbeval, my guardian, and Ursula’s father, had retired to 
 an estate he possessed in Touraine, and I now never saw him ; 
 moreover, he, like my other relations, was completely a creature of 
 my aunt’s. It was, therefore, incumbent upon me to consider M. 
 de Mortagne’s arrival as an event most fortunate for me ; and, 
 besides, he had promised me to return when it should be in his 
 power to render me any real service. My anxiety was rendered 
 still more intense, by the terror which my aunt had displayed when 
 Madame de Richeville announced his return to her. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections I was interrupted by Ursula’s 
 coming into my room. We conversed about the ball, and I re- 
 curred to the slight feeling of jealousy she had inspired in my mind 
 before our departure to the Ambassador’s, with the greater gaiety, 
 because I had been delighted during the whole evening to behold 
 my cousin's success. 
 
 “ Do you know, my dear Ursula,” I observed to her with a smile, 
 “ that seeing me so radiant the other evening, people may, perhaps, 
 have fancied I was delighted with myself, while on the contrary, it 
 was of you that I was proud ! Yet, what does it signify to us — to 
 usyf who have no secrets of the heart from one another.” 
 
 “ What do you think of M. de Lancry V ’ suddenly asked my 
 cousin. 
 
 “ Why, I think him a charming person,” I replied, a little sur- 
 prised at this abrupt question. “ Yes, quite charming — especially 
 h 3 
 
100 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 when he is not dancing with that haughty looking Duchess de 
 Kicheville.” 
 
 Ursula looked at me attentively ; then dropped her eyes, and 
 after a moment’s silence, continued — 
 
 “ Shall I tell you, Matilda, what I think V 
 “ Pray, do so directly.” 
 
 “ Well, then, I fancy Mademoiselle de Maran and M. de Versac 
 would be delighted if they could bring about a marriage between 
 you and M. de Lancry.” 
 
 My first movement was one of surprise, and then I burst into 
 laughter. 
 
 “ And what makes you think this idea such an unreasonable 
 one, Matilda 1 Did not M. de Versac present M. de Lancry to 
 Mademoiselle de Maran 1 and did not your aunt give M. de Lancry 
 a most pressing invitation to pay her frequent morning visits 1 
 Now, to whom is she at home in the morning ? Only to five 
 or six of her most intimate acquaintances. Why, then, should 
 she have made an exception in favour of M. de Versac’s 
 nephew 
 
 “ Shall I tell you, Ursula, what / think ?” I replied, employing 
 my cousin’s own expression. “ I fancy M. de Versac and Made- 
 moiselle de Maran would be delighted, if they could bring about a 
 marriage between you and M. de Lancry.” 
 
 It was now Ursula’s turn to smile, and she replied — 
 
 “ What nonsense ! Is so good a match possible for a poor girl, 
 humble and portionless like myself 1 No, no ; you know my wish 
 and my intention never to marry ; I know my own merits too 
 well to aim at what is far above all hopes of mine \ and, besides, 
 to-morrow, if it were in my power to marry M. de Lancry, I would 
 refuse him. Does this surprise you % It is the truth, nevertheless. 
 He is too handsome — too elegant — too fashionable. It is not that 
 species of happiness I should seek for ; I am not adapted for so 
 brilliant a position ; my life must pass in obscurity, and I must aspire 
 to no other felicity than to that of seeing you happy.” 
 
 “We shall never agree in our opinions of the part which you 
 profess it to be your lot to fulfil — you shall see, my dear Ursula. 
 If I may believe my own heart, you will be happy on your own 
 account also. But to return to M. de Lancry, why will you have 
 it that the dangerous advantages of which he is the possessor, find 
 more favour in my eyes, than in your own ?” 
 
 “As regards me, because in marrying me, M. de Lancry would, 
 as it were, marry beneath himself, while you, who possess yourself, 
 those very same dangerous advantages, as you call them, could not 
 but be — as indeed you ought — delighted with the consequences of 
 such a marriage.” 
 
 “ Ursula, you are raving ; M. de Lancry thinks no more of me, 
 than I do of him ; and, moreover, like yourself, I should prefer a 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 101 
 
 less brilliant lot, and one in which, from that very cause, I should 
 be more secure of happiness. 
 
 “ But still you think M. de Lancry a charming person ?” 
 
 “ Good Heaven ! Ursula, how provoking you are. Well, then, 
 yes, I do think him so ; at least as charming as one can think any 
 one whom one has seen for a couple of hours.” 
 
 “ Just as you like ; but you think him especially charming when 
 he is not waltzing with the Duchess de Richeville .” 
 
 I could not help blushing. “ Yes,” was my reply to my cousin ; 
 “ but I am sure I do not know why, nor why I blush at hearing 
 you repeat those words of mine.” 
 
 “ Why — why — shall I tell you why 1” answered my cousin, and 
 her manner was a melancholy one while she spoke. “ It is because 
 you will love him.” 
 
 “ You are raving again, Ursula.” 
 
 “ No, no, Matilda ; I am not raving ; my friendship for you — my 
 fear of seeing myself forgotten by you — the jealousy of my affection 
 if you choose, ail these feelings, supply the place to me of that 
 experience which it is impossible I should possess, and enlighten me 
 more, perhaps, even than yourself, as to the nature of your feelings. 
 Forgive me, Matilda — forgive me these tears ; I ought to have 
 anticipated this change in your life, which, sooner or later, was 
 destined to take place.” 
 
 And my cousin threw herself into my arms, weeping pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 I cannot tell you, my friend, with what profound emotion I 
 replied to this proof of Ursula’s affection, and I attempted to console 
 her by the warmest protestations of my attachment. 
 
 “ Now/’ I said to her, while I wiped away my tears, u I re- 
 quire nothing more to make me detest M. de Lancry — I swear 
 to you — ” 
 
 “ Silence, Matilda,” interrupted Ursula, while she gently placed 
 her hand upon my mouth, “ silence — it was folly — madness — in 
 me to give way to my first impulse ; but I could not help it ; my 
 poor heart was so full that it overflowed, and besides, I cannot 
 conceal from you how deeply my feelings are interested in you, and 
 in all that concerns you.” 
 
 Our conversation was broken off by Blondeau, who exclaimed, 
 as she came into the room — 
 
 u Oh ! mademoiselle, there is such a pretty carriage just come ! 
 The court yard of our hotel has never seen such a one before, I am 
 sure. And such a charming young man alighted from it ! He 
 enquired for Mademoiselle de Maran, and on the steps he met M. 
 Bisson, who has certainly been breaking something again ; for 
 he was going very fast, without his hat, and looking quite be- 
 wildered.” 
 
 Ursula looked at me, and I understood her. This young man. 
 
102 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 of whom my governess was speaking, could he no other than M. 
 de Lanery. 
 
 I was annoyed at his calling so soon ; it appeared to me to be 
 a want of tact on his part, and I made up my mind to decline 
 going down stairs, should Mademoiselle de Maran send for me, 
 under any pretext. 
 
 We heard the wheels of a carriage ; Blondeau ran to the window 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 “ Ah ! there goes the young man ; he has paid but a short 
 visit !" 
 
 I felt greatly relieved, and almost regretted not having had 
 an opportunity of refusing to go down to Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. 
 
 Just before dinner we joined my aunt, in the drawing-room ; 
 she was alone, and appeared to be extremely irritated. 
 
 “ Well,” she said to us, “ you have not heard of that abominable 
 break-all M. Bisson’s last performance ! But, thank God, he will 
 never set foot here again.” 
 
 “ What ! has M. Bisson broken any thing more, aunt ?” 
 
 “ Broken, indeed !” exclaimed my aunt in a greater passion than 
 before. “ I believe you, he has broken something ; it is all the 
 fault of that fool, Servien. I had told him once for all, never to 
 let that horrid man into my drawing-room. I was writing a letter 
 in my cabinet with the door just a-jar, when all of a sudden, I heard 
 a kind of harsh creaking noise like a rattle ; having no idea what 
 it could be, I got up and went into the drawing-room, and what, 
 do you think, I saw ? Why, that villanous M. Bisson, sitting in 
 my arm-chair, with my clock between his knees, and twiddling 
 about inside its works with my scissors ; he had already managed 
 to break the main-spring, and that was the noise like a rattle 
 which I had heard.” 
 
 “ Mademoiselle de Maran was in too great a passion to see our 
 smothered laughter, and she continued — 
 
 “ Upon my word, I would have thrashed him if I had been 
 strong enough. * You have made up your mind, then, you abo- 
 minable fellow,’ said I to him, ‘ to break everything in the house', 
 and never to keep quiet V " “ And pray, what would you have me 
 
 do, while I am waiting for you 1 I cannot bear to sit idle,” he 
 replied so abruptly, and so coolly, while he was putting the clock 
 upon the floor, that upon my soul, I could not stand it any longer. 
 I lost all command of myself ; I pushed him — I ordered him 
 out of the house, and he ran away as if the devil were be- 
 hind him.” 
 
 “ Without his hat, which is on that chair,” I said to my 
 aunt. 
 
 “ So much the better !” she exclaimed, “ I only wish he would 
 catch some nice little brain fever, and then they would shut him 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 103 
 
 up for a raving madman, which he is, notwithstanding all his 
 science.’' 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran must have been mightily incensed ; for 
 she even rejected, impatiently, the caresses of the venerable Felix, 
 who slunk back into his kennel with a growl. 
 
 The sight of Felix recalled to my mind the valour of M. de 
 Mortagne, which I had so much admired in my childhood, when 
 he was bold enough to kick that horrid animal, and I mustered 
 up courage to ask Mademoiselle de Maran, where M. de Mortagne 
 was, and if he were likely to arrive shortly ? 
 
 Could my aunt have withered me, by the lightning of a look, I 
 believe she would have done it. 
 
 “ What is that to you 1 Why do you ask me that question % 
 Do you think I trouble myself about that man’s doings % Thank 
 God, whatever that beautiful Duchess, whose soul is as black as 
 hell, may say, it may suffice you to know that he cannot he in a 
 better place than where he is, and, do you hear, he will stop there a 
 long time, the horrid Jacobin.” 
 
 I underline these words, my friend, because in spite of myself 
 I shuddered at the sinister, almost ferocious expression with which 
 my aunt pronounced them ; and I immediately remembered 
 that ten years ago, and almost in the same place, she had cast a 
 look of implacable rage at M. de Mortagne, as she broke, in her 
 silent fury, the needle she was holding in her hand. I was too 
 terrified to reply a single syllable to Mademoiselle de Maran, who, 
 after a few minutes’ silence, continued — 
 
 a Gontran came to offer me the opera box of the Gentlemen of 
 the Chamber, for to-morrow night, which I accepted, and we will, 
 accordingly go.” 
 
 I thought I would act heroically, and convince Ursula of my 
 friendship, by declining this opportunity of again meeting M. de 
 Lancry, and I accordingly replied — 
 
 “ I am so fatigued, aunt, after the ball, that I should prefer not 
 going to the Opera. 5 ' 
 
 “ You will prefer what I order you to prefer,” was Mademoiselle 
 de Maran’s answer. 
 
 Ursula cast a look of entreaty at me, and I replied to my 
 aunt — 
 
 “ I will go to the Opera if you absolutely desire it." 
 
 -o- 
 
104 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE OPERA. 
 
 When alone, I reflected deeply upon what Ursula had said to me 
 respecting the possibility of a marriage between myself and M. de 
 Lancry. 
 
 Had it not been for my cousin’s remarks, I might, perchance, 
 have been a long time without analyzing in my own mind, the 
 impression which had been made upon me by the nephew of M. de 
 Versac. But now I questioned myself with frankness, putting, 
 however, out of the question, the favourable influence that is inva- 
 riably produced by the union, in one man, of extreme distinction 
 of manners, an honourable name, and a remarkably handsome 
 person. I asked myself whether the remembrance of M. de Lancry 
 disturbed me, and whether I felt any interest in him. I fancied 
 that I was completely indifferent to him, and I was only surprised 
 that I should have felt any annoyance at seeing him dance with 
 Madame de Richeville. The more inexplicable this feeling of mine 
 was, the more obstinately did I endeavour to explain it, and I at 
 last succeeded, thanks to Ursula’s remark, which had put me upon 
 the right track. 
 
 I have always thought that women have often no fixity of 
 character till after they have been in love. When the first im- 
 pressions, or, if I may so call them, the first interests of love are 
 at stake ; when they are once excited, awakened, and developed, 
 they raise to a pitch of exaltation, certain noble, or, dangerous 
 faculties of the soul, which, by degrees, bring all the others into 
 subjection. 
 
 For instance, at seventeen, I had no predominant quality, good- 
 or bad, and I believe it would have been difficult to form any 
 particular and precise idea of my disposition. I was, by turns, 
 excessively humble and excessively haughty, because in my youth 
 I had been, by turns, ridiculously flattered, or insultingly depre- 
 ciated ; I was pious from conviction and nature, and felt an impe- 
 rious obligation to thank God for every happiness that fell to my 
 1 )t ; but I first pushed this feeling, whi h was a praiseworthy one 
 in itself, to a blameable degree of childishness, and afterwards to 
 an exaggerated sentiment of gratitude, which bordered upon im- 
 piety. I was generous, as far as it lay in my power ; but to n y 
 shame, I own that I never felt more compassion towards the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 105 
 
 wretched, than when I was myself a sufferer, and I was then 
 eagerly attracted to the misfortunes of others, in order to attempt, 
 at least, to console them. 
 
 Happiness, without rendering me selfish, nevertheless, completely 
 absorbed me, and it was necessary to arouse my pity, before I 
 could be brought to sympathise with affliction. 
 
 My sentiments, whether of afFection or of aversion, were less 
 violent than durable ; I might, and did, forgive a wrong, an 
 offence ; but I did not forget it, not that I ever sought to injure 
 the enemy who had injured me, but I avenged myself, for my own 
 private satisfaction, by a secret and internal contempt. 
 
 My disposition, then, as you may perceive, my friend, had 
 nothing about it very marked or very decided. 
 
 Well, then, from the day when I saw M. de Lancry for the first 
 time, a passion, to which I was hitherto a complete stranger, began 
 to dawn in my breast — a passion, which, at first, was scarcely to be 
 perceived — scarcely to be recognised, since its only manifestation 
 was a vague feeling of displeasure at seeing a man whom I scarcely 
 knew, waltz with a woman whom I did not know at all. 
 
 Alas ! my friend, I need not tell it to you, that passion, which was 
 destined, at a future day, to set loose every other, and to become 
 almost the master movement of my disposition — that passion was 
 jealousy — jealousy, sometimes checked, concealed, and disavowed, 
 by pride — sometimes, acknowledged, frantic, humble, and suppliant, 
 even to meanness. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Accustomed, from my childhood, to reflect much, and to fall 
 back upon my own resources, endowed with a tolerably lively 
 disposition, and a mind of some penetration, I was not long in 
 answering the question which my cousin had addressed to me. 
 
 Why had it been more disagreeable to me, to see M. de Lancry 
 dancing with Madame de Richeville, than with any other partner ? 
 
 And yet, I assure you again, my friend, although I thought M. 
 de Lancry a most agreeable person, I yet experienced no feeling 
 which I could fancy was at all akin to love, and to those first 
 emotions of the heart, which our day dreams always represent as 
 so sweet and so gentle. Moreover, I considered that it would be, 
 perhaps, necessary for me to wrestle, with all my strength, against 
 such a feeling, should I ever detect its existence, for it might render 
 me the most miserable of women, since either M. de Lancry might 
 not share it, or even if he did, it might displease his family or 
 my own. 
 
 Amidst all these serious reflections, which were such weighty 
 ones for a poor girl of seventeen, I missed, more than all, the pre- 
 sence of my only friend, M. de Mortagne, in whom I had a kind of 
 instinctive confidence. Unfortunately Mademoiselle de Maran’s last 
 words had banished the hopes which Madame de Richeville had 
 
106 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 awakened in me, when she announced the speedy return of my 
 old protector. 
 
 You will conceive, my friend, that once carried away by the 
 course of these reflections, once determined to watch, with jealousy, 
 the least movements of my own heart, I awaited, with a kind of 
 anxiety, this evening on which I should, doubtless, see M. de Lancry, 
 for the second time. 
 
 It was rather late when we arrived at the Opera ; the house was 
 quite full, and the audience was a brilliant one ; the Duchess de 
 Berry was present on that evening. 
 
 The Opera was the Siege of Corinth. 
 
 On entering our box, the first person I saw, almost opposite to 
 us, was the Duchess of Richeville, accompanied by Madame de 
 Mirecourt, one of my aunt’s friends, and M. de Mirecourt. 
 
 Nothing could be more elegant and beautiful than Madame de 
 Richeville. She wore a turban of white gauze, set off with thin 
 plates of silver, which suited admirably her somewhat dark com- 
 plexion, and her jet black hair ; her dress was of cherry-coloured 
 velvet, with short sleeves, and in spite of the long gloves, you 
 might form an idea of the perfect symmetry of her arms. She 
 carried in her hand an enormous bouquet of white roses, which 
 are said to be the greatest rarity you can procure in winter. 
 
 I used every endeavour to feel indifferent, at least, to her beauty, 
 yet I could not divest myself of a melancholy sensation, and my 
 thoughts of sadness were, if I may say so, accompanied by the 
 melancholy air of that waltz of Weber’s, which she had danced with 
 M. de Lancry. 
 
 Madame de Mirecourt turned towards Madame de Richeville, 
 who was extremely short-sighted, in order, no doubt, to point out 
 our arrival to the Duchess. 
 
 Madame de Richeville hastily raised her opera-glass, and ex- 
 amined me with much attention ; but not with that affectation 
 of haughtiness and displeasure, which had so struck me on the 
 night of the ball. 
 
 The curtain was now raised, and I was so fond of music, and 
 so delighted with the Opera, that I listened to, and looked at' 
 everything with the eagerness of a school-girl. 
 
 During the entr'acte, I perceived M. de Lancry make his ap- 
 pearance in the Duchess de Berry’s box, which the Princess had 
 not left to enter her salon. 
 
 Madame appeared to receive M. de Lancry with the utmost 
 affability, and conversed, for some time, with him ; she even 
 deigned to detain him for a few moments longer, when he was 
 about to retire, doubtless, from a feeling of discretion. 
 
 When he quitted the royal box, I felt curious to see whether he 
 would pay us a visit before he went to pay his respects to the 
 Duchess de Richeville. 
 
 For some minutes this curiosity amounted almost to anguish in 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 107 
 
 its intensity ; my heart beat violently when I heard the door of 
 our box open, and I felt assured that it was M. de Lancry. 
 
 I was not mistaken. 
 
 ** I felt agitated, and did not dare to turn my head round, while he 
 was addressing Mademoiselle de Maran and Ursula. 
 
 My aunt gently touched my arm, and said — 
 
 “ Matilda ! — M. de Lancry.” 
 
 I turned round and bowed, blushing while I did so. 
 
 By degrees I felt my embarrassment diminish, and I began to 
 take a share in the conversation. 
 
 M. de Lancry was extremely agreeable, and extremely witty ; he 
 knew all Paris, and all Paris was present that evening. I can re- 
 member every particular of that conversation ; for, during its 
 progress, M. de Lancry appeared to me in quite a new light, and 
 in one which was most advantageous to him. 
 
 K Come, Gontran,” said my aunt, to M. de Lancry, u you who 
 go everywhere, and know every body, just put me up a little to 
 the history of all these fine people, who are strangers to me. I 
 know as little about them as these two young girls do ; for it is 
 two years, and more, since I set foot in the Opera house ; I sup- 
 pose all the cream of the financial circles is present here, and you 
 must know something, either by name or sight, of that sort of 
 people. They are rich enough to frighten respectable persons out 
 of their wits, and they always hire a box at the Opera, while 
 poor wretches, like us, are obliged to content ourselves modestly 
 with the boxes belonging to the Court, which, however, thank God, 
 are the best.” 
 
 “ I should be much puzzled, madame, to comply with your re- 
 quest,” answered M. de Lancry, “ for, during the four months I was 
 absent in England, many of these financial boxes, as you call 
 them, have changed masters. I scarcely see a person I know, so 
 capricious is the Bourse , and so many fortunes are suddenly made 
 and unmade, by its fluctuations. 
 
 “ It would be a pretty job, indeed,” replied Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, “ if all those sort of people were to continue rich to the 
 end of the chapter, and a nice example for other malefactors. But 
 who can that little woman, with the rose-coloured beret, in the 
 second row of boxes, be % Is she not pretty V 
 
 “ Very pretty,” answered M. de Lancry. “ She and her husband 
 are the heroine and hero of a very simple, but a very touching 
 story,” added Gontran, with an expression of melancholy, which 
 astonished me, and which lent a fresh charm to his countenance. 
 
 “ God bless my soul ! tell us all about it, Gontran. What’s the 
 name of your fine heroine ?” 
 
 “ Their name has nothing very heroical about it,” replied M. 
 de Lancry with a smile. “ That couple is a M. and Madame 
 Duval.” 
 
 “ Duval ! Why, that is a very distinguished name ! And it is 
 
108 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 quite as good as Dupcirc, Dupont , Dumont , or Dupre ! Come, Gon- 
 tran, let us hear the romance of M. and Madame Duval.” 
 
 “ You must know, then, madame, that, two years ago” — but sud- 
 denly interrupting himself, M. de Lancry said to my aunt — “ Upon - * 
 my word, madame, I am quite put out by your satirieal smile ; 
 allow me to address my words to Mademoiselle Mathilde and Made- 
 moiselle Ursule ; they will not discourage me, and will, I am certain, 
 take an interest in this simple tale.” 
 
 I looked up, and could not help blushing when I met the glance 
 of M. de Lancry. 
 
 “ Well, well,” said Mademoiselle de Maran, “ tell your story to 
 these young ladies, if you like ; I won’t look at you ; and if I do 
 laugh, it shall be in my sleeve.” 
 
 “ Well, then, mademoiselle,” said M. de Lancry to me, “ M. and 
 Madame Duval had made a very happy marriage — ■” 
 
 “ Capital !” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran ; “ it begins just 
 like a story in the Ami des Enfans, or like one of Berquiri’s. Who 
 would ever expect a former Captain of hussars to tell us, such 
 pretty stories 1 Go on — go on — there’s the beautiful Princess 
 Ksernika just coming into her box, with her suite. You will have 
 time to finish your history before her smelling-bottle carrier, her 
 opera-glass bearer, her fan carrier, her bouquet bearer, and her 
 play-bill carrier have discharged their important functions. Ber- 
 quiris tales are not much to the taste of that fine Princess.” 
 
 “ I am aware, madame,” replied M. de Lancry with a malicious 
 smile, “ of the great difference which exists between a tale of 
 Berquin’s and the Princess Ksernika ; but it is to these young 
 ladies that I address myself ; I have no need to ask their forgive- 
 ness, for the unaffected simplicity of my story, and, therefore, I 
 shall go on.” 
 
 “ M. and Madame Duval were perfectly happy, and in the en- 
 joyment of a competent income. They were, however, completely 
 ruined by some bankruptcy, or abuse of confidence ; I forget which. 
 M. Duval had an old mother, to whom he was devotedly attached, 
 and who was blind ; she had given up all her property to him, on 
 the understanding that she was to reside with him and her daughter- 
 in-law, of whom she was very fond. When ruin stared them in 
 the face, the first and the greatest grief of M. and Madame Duval 
 was their fear of poverty falling upon their old mother, who had 
 been so long accustomed to all the comforts that are almost indis- 
 pensable at her age. They determined, therefore, to conceal their 
 misfortune from her, and they derived great assistance in this 
 project from her infirmities. They found means to supply the 
 expenses that were at first required from the wreck of their fortune. 
 Duval had a perfect knowledge of English and German, and he 
 employed himself in translations, while his wife, who painted ex- 
 quisitely, executed designs for albums, and even for fans. By 
 incessant labour, privations, and especially presence of mind and 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 109 
 
 adroitness, they contrived, for nearly two years, to deceive their 
 mother, who, perceiving no material change in her usual mode of 
 living, did not, for an instant, suspect the misfortune which had 
 befallen her children, a misfortune which would have been doubly 
 fatal to her, both from the sorrow which she would naturally have 
 experienced, and from the privations which she would have insisted 
 upon submitting to in consequence. However, a few days ago, M. 
 Duval received a hundred thousand francs, with a letter which 
 informed him, that the sum enclosed was a restitution from the 
 bankrupt who had ruined him. Others, however, attribute this 
 gift to some mysterious benefactor.” 
 
 “ Which seems much more probable, than the repentance of a 
 swindler,” observed my aunt. 
 
 “ Be that as it may, mademoiselle, thanks to that sum of money, 
 this good and worthy young couple, accustomed, as they now are, 
 to labour, have almost regained the competency they had lost, and 
 their old mother has never found out how nearly she was wrecked 
 on the breakers of want.” 
 
 “ The end of the story is worthy of its beginning,” said Ma- 
 demoiselle de Maran ; “ and it proves that virtue always meets 
 with a reward. We may tell, from this, that when the beautiful 
 Princess Ksernika makes her appearance at the last judgment, she 
 will not be kept long in suspense.” 
 
 “ You may laugh, madame,” continued M. de Lancry, “ but I 
 will, nevertheless, maintain that this anecdote does the highest 
 credit to the days we live in.” 
 
 And turning to me, he added — 
 
 “ Do you not think, mademoiselle, that such conduct as this, 
 exhibits a rare delicacy of feeling ? What self-command, in re- 
 pressing every murmur, every involuntary allusion to a misfortune 
 from which one suffers so much, and which one conceals with such 
 a pious anxiety ! What presence of mind — what strength of heart, 
 to maintain, amidst the piercing anxieties of poverty, that evenness 
 and cherfulness of disposition which is bestowed by the habitual 
 possession of wealth ! Is it not, in a word, a noble and a touching 
 picture — these two young people, piously deceiving an aged 
 mother, by creating, from their own labour, one little nook of 
 opulence for her, in the midst of their own cold poverty ?” 
 
 “ Ah !” exclaimed Ursula, with emotion in her voice, and putting 
 her hand to her eyes, “ it is noble — it is admirable ! When one 
 hears of such deeds as this, one no longer regrets being poor, since 
 poverty inspires such devotion of self to others.” 
 
 I was so much moved, that I could not utter a word, and I 
 envied Ursula, who had been able to speak thus. 
 
 M. de Lancry had related this tale with a finished gracefulness 
 of manner, and the story, though a simple one enough, acquired a 
 charm when told by such a man. Several times during the narra- 
 tive I had looked at M. de Lancry, the touching expression of whose 
 
no 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 countenance lent fresh attraction to his words, and in my opinion 
 then, no one could so generously appreciate such an action, without 
 being capable of imitating it himself. 
 
 I was silent with astonishment ; for I did not expect to find such 
 gentle sensibility beneath the brilliant exterior of a man of the 
 world, and I felt deeply pained when I heard my aunt say to M. 
 de Lancry — 
 
 “ My niece, Matilda, in spite of her sanctified looks, is so mali- 
 cious, that she is quite capable, my poor Gontran, of laughing in 
 her sleeve, at least, at your story.” 
 
 I raised my eyes quickly to M. de Lancry ’s countenance, in order, 
 as it were, to re-assure him ; his glance met mine ; but it was one 
 of such melancholy and discouragement, that I was on the point of 
 crying, from sorrow and vexation. 
 
 I do not know how this scene would have terminated, had it 
 not been for the arrival of M. de Versac, who came in, a few 
 minutes before the curtain was raised. 
 
 I felt a deep emotion — a kind of confusion of ideas which was 
 increased still more by the effect of the music ; every thought 
 which agitated me, was, as it were, accompanied by a kind of 
 melody, in turns dreamy, tender, or passionate, and which was but 
 too much in accordance with my state of heart. 
 
 Under certain circumstances, music is, undoubtedly, seductive, 
 and seems to translate our most secret, our most confused, and 
 sometimes even our most guilty thoughts, into a language so intoxi- 
 cating, that we abandon ourselves at once to its dangerous in- 
 fluences. 
 
 Thus, without giving an instant’s reflection to the obstacles, 
 which that feeling might encounter that was now awakening 
 within me so deliciously, and gently rocked by that adorable 
 melody, I delighted to recal to my mind M. de Lancry’s touching 
 words, and I suffered myself to be carried away by my admiration 
 for the disposition which I supposed him to possess. I was even as- 
 sailed by some ideas of jealousy, when, through the phantasmagoria 
 of that waking dream, I saw vaguely before me, the dark counte- 
 nance of the Duchess de Richeville. 
 
 When the act had finished, I still continued to listen, and so 
 absorbed had I become, that my aunt was compelled to call me 
 several times, before she could arouse me from my revery. 
 
 The performances were over, and we left our box. M. de Versac 
 gave me his arm, while M. de Lancry offered his to Ursula. I 
 went down the stairs almost mechanically, scarcely hearing or 
 seeing anything that was passing near me. 
 
 Just as our carriage was announced, I became conscious of a 
 most delicious, but most powerful perfume close to me ; something 
 touched my dress slightly, as it brushed by, and a voice, full of 
 emotion, almost whispered in my ear, with an affectionate tone, 
 these words — 
 

THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 “ Poor child, beware ; they want you to marry ; wait till M. de 
 Mortagne returns.” 
 
 I turned quickly round, to see who had addressed me ; but I 
 only perceived the cherry-coloured satin cloak, and the gauze and 
 silver turban of the Duchess de Richeville, who, with a light step, 
 and accompanied by M. and Madame de Mirecourt, was going down 
 the stairs before me. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONFESSION OF LOVE. 
 
 A month had elapsed since my visit to the Opera with my aunt 
 and M. de Lancry. Gontran had been very regular in his visits to 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, which had taken place first at intervals of 
 two or three days, but had become latterly of daily recurrence. 
 
 As our intimacy increased, I discovered a thousand fresh charm- 
 ing qualities in him ; it was impossible to meet with a man of more 
 even disposition, more engaging manners, or of greater delicacy in 
 the attentions which he paid. His acuteness and ingenuity were 
 such, and he flattered with such subtilty, that he succeeded in 
 dressing his adulation in the garb of truth, even with me — with me 
 who was always distrustful of praises, which reminded me of my 
 aunt’s treacherous exaggerations on the score of the merits with 
 which I was endowed. 
 
 M. de Lancry warmly supported every noble and deserving cause 
 with an ardour and generosity peculiarly his own, and his excessive 
 modesty was visibly pained when any allusion was made, in his 
 presence, to those brilliant qualities which had obtained for him 
 distinctions so rare at his age. Though, from motives of propriety, 
 but little was said in the presence of myself and Ursula, respecting 
 his successes in society, it was, nevertheless, easy to perceive that 
 M. de Lancry had no tinge of coxcombry about him, and the style 
 of his conversation was, when he pleased, if not serious, at least 
 instructive. He had travelled much, and with advantage, spoke 
 with infinite taste upon the fine arts, and was acquainted, by no 
 means superficially, with the contemporary literature of various 
 countries. 
 
 My long description of his qualities, is sufficient information 
 to you that I loved him — yes — I did love him. 
 
 How was it possible for me not to have done so ? Living with 
 my aunt, an almost solitary life, seeing none but him, and seeing 
 him every day, could I long resist the fascinations which rendered 
 
112 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 him so seductive ? I have told you how gloomy and monotonous 
 was my existence at Mademoiselle de Maran’s. When M. de 
 Lancry was admitted into our intimacy, everything was changed ; 
 the hope, the delight, of seeing him, the intense wish to please 
 him ; the as intense dread of not succeeding, the thousand remem- 
 brances which followed his absence, the protracted reveries ; in a 
 word, the numberless mysterious anxieties of passion ; all conspired 
 to throw me into a state of unceasing emotion, and hour after 
 hour flew by upon wings of lightning. 
 
 I loved him — and that love rendered me, in turns, very happy 
 and very miserable. I was happy at those rare intervals when I 
 felt confidence in myself, in the days of my pride — pride of youth, 
 pride of beauty, pride of heart — when I asked myself whether 
 Gontran could find in another such securities of happiness as 
 I believed I possessed, and could offer him if he sought my 
 hand ? 
 
 I was miserable — oh ! very miserable — when, doubtful of myself, 
 of my beauty, almost of my heart ; I dared not believe that 
 Gontran could love me, and even persuaded myself that he was 
 more tenderly attached than ever to Madame de Richeville. Then 
 those words she had spoken to me so affectionately at the Opera — 
 those words, “ Poor child, beware !” would recur to my mind. In 
 my discouragement, I had no longer energy enough to detest that 
 woman, and I interpreted those words of hers, as if she had said, 
 “ Poor child, beware ; they want you to marry Gontran ; but you 
 possess not one quality to please him, and you will suffer in an 
 affection that is unshared.” 
 
 When, on the other hand, my self-confidence returned, I looked 
 upon those words of the Duchess as a kind of disguised threat — 
 a species of veto upon my pretensions to a heart of which she was 
 the possessor. 
 
 These different reflections were the more oppressive to me, from 
 my having no one to whom I could confide them. My guardian 
 had sent for Ursula to spend some time with him. Our parting, 
 though not intended to be of long duration, had not been the less 
 painful, and at this time, especially, I suffered doubly, from my 
 cousin’s absence. 
 
 In the midst, however, of my most harrowing doubts, I consoled 
 myself sometimes, by thinking that Mademoiselle de Maran would 
 not have admitted M. de Lancry in so open and so marked a 
 manner, if he had not acquainted her with his intentions. Still 
 neither my aunt nor M. de Versac had ever made the slightest 
 allusion to the possibility of a marriage between myself and M. de 
 Lancry. 
 
 At last an end was put to these anxieties. On the 15th of 
 February — I remember the day, the date, and the circumstances, 
 as if it had been but yesterday — on the 15th of February, I was 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 113 
 
 alone in my aunt’s drawing-room, where I had gone expecting t® 
 find her ; but she had gone out, leaving directions to say, in case 
 any visiters should call, that she would be back directly. I was 
 reading the “ Meditations” of Lamartine, when I heard the 
 drawing-room door open, and Servien announced the Viscount de 
 Lancry. 
 
 I had never before been alone with Gontran, and I felt fearfully 
 embarrassed. 
 
 “ They told me, mademoiselle, that your aunt would soon be 
 back, and that she had requested any visiters would be good 
 enough to wait for her.” And then, after an instant’s hesitation, 
 he added, with much emotion in his voice — “ I did not expect the 
 happiness of finding you here, mademoiselle ; permit me, therefore, 
 to profit by this rare and precious opportunity, in order to entreat 
 that you will hear what I have to say.” 
 
 “ Sir — I really do not know — what can you have to say to 
 me ?”• — I stammered out, while my poor heart beat to a degree that 
 was almost painful. 
 
 Then with a voice, the charm of whose trembling accents I shall 
 never forget, he said to me — 
 
 “ Now, mademoiselle, allow me to speak to you with the utmost 
 frankness, and be kind enough to promise me an equal frankness, 
 
 in return.” 
 
 “ I promise it you, sir.” 
 
 “ Well, then, mademoiselle, my uncle, M. de Versac, making an 
 unwarrantable use of a secret, which his penetration may have dis- 
 covered, but which I never confided to him, had made up his mind 
 to ask your hand in marriage, for me, from Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 I have implored him to do nothing of the sort.” 
 
 My courage failed me — a violent shock was given to my heart, 
 and fancying M. de Lancry entertained an aversion for me, I re- 
 plied, in a feeble voice — 
 
 “ It was useless to tell me this, sir ” 
 
 I could not finish the sentence. 
 
 “No, mademoiselle — permit me to assure you, it was not useless ; 
 I could not authorise M. de Versac to make such a demand to 
 your aunt, before I had obtained your own consent.” 
 
 “ And you have come, then, to ask me for my consent !” I ex- 
 claimed, without the thought or the power of concealing my 
 delight. 
 
 A movement of surprise, made by M. de Lancry, caused me 
 almost to regret my frankness ; I dreaded lest he should place an 
 unfavourable interpretation upon it ; I blushed, grew troubled, and 
 could not add another word. 
 
 After a few minutes’ silence, Gontran continued — 
 
 “ Yes, mademoiselle, I have come to solicit your consent, but 
 without the hope of obtaining it. Your choice must be an un- 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 biassed one, and I should have ever regretted having been the 
 occasion of any request or molestation, which might have been 
 annoving to you.” 
 
 “ Sir, I—” 
 
 Gontran interrupted me, and said tenderly, indeed ; but, yet, 
 with seriousness — 
 
 “ One word more, mademoiselle, before I am doomed to see, not, 
 indeed, any presumptuous hopes, but the wishes which I have 
 scarcely dared to form, overthrown by your refusal. Allow me to 
 tell you all my thoughts. You are an orphan ; you are almost 
 without a tie in the world, and, as a man of honour, it is my duty 
 to use as serious language to yourself as I would to your mother. 
 You know why, on this occasion, I address myself to you , and not 
 to Mademoiselle de Maran,” added Gontran, with a significant look, 
 which proved to me that he was aware of my situation, with 
 respect to my aunt, though he could not, from motives of delicacy, 
 openly allude to it. 
 
 I was deeply touched by the manner, at once serious and 
 affectionate, in which Gontran expressed himself, and I an- 
 swered — 
 
 “ I understand, and I thank you.” 
 
 “ When,” he continued, “ you have heard me out, you will be 
 able, mademoiselle, to form as accurate a judgment of the future as 
 if it were already accomplished. My good qualities may be few, 
 perhaps ; but I have been always honest and sincere in the 
 performance of a promise. It has ever been my firm resolution, 
 never to marry any woman, unless I felt a love for her as respectful 
 in its nature, as intense in its ardour — a lo ve whose purity and 
 fervour would no more resemble the inconstant fancies of one’s 
 first youth, than would the transitory connections, to which such 
 fancies le^d, resemble the permanent duration of the marriage 
 tie. Unlike the world in general, I could imagine nothing more 
 romantic than a tender and well assorted tie, such as I pictured 
 to myself. To realize such a dream, would ouly require the 
 knowledge how to use, with discretion, those treasures of happiness 
 which may be made to finish only with our own existence. Then,- 
 indeed, we may pass with delight, hand in hand, and with mutual 
 confidence, through a life of tenderness and love, the very joys of 
 which may be deliciously varied by the heart’s inventive genius. 
 For once more, I repeat it, there is nothing more romantic than 
 marriage, when it is accompanied by love.” 
 
 I know not why, at that instant, a thought of Madame de Riche- 
 ville flashed through my mind, and I could not help saying to M. 
 de Lancry — 
 
 “ Yet, sir, those transitory connections to which you have alluded, 
 appear, sometimes — ” 
 
 u Ah ! mademoiselle !” he exclaimed, interrupting me, “ can they 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 115 
 
 ever bear a comparison with lawful and true happiness ? Ah ! 
 believe me, when we love for life, we quickly discover the nothing- 
 ness of those culpable attachments. What charm can they possess, 
 that we should prefer them to an affection consecrated by God 
 himself ? Because a woman belongs to you, in the sight of Heaven 
 and man, are all the delights of a long evening, spent in her 
 society, to be less appreciated % Is her preference to be less valued, 
 because one has shown, day by day, and before all eyes, that one 
 has deserved that preference by devotion and tenderness ? Is her 
 wit, her gracefulness, the admiration which she inspires, to be less 
 dear to you, because her speaking glance can meet your own 
 without fear, and because that glance can say, “ Enjoy my triumphs, 
 triumphs inspired by my love for you.” If, in the midst of society, 
 she acknowledges some sign you make her, by a sweet and myste- 
 rious smile, will that smile be less sweet, because it does not betray 
 a guilty collusion h Are the flowers she wears less brilliant in their 
 colours, less delicious in their perfume, because they have been 
 selected for her by some friendly and respected hand ? If one 
 longs to travel and to repose from the tumult of the capital, in the 
 contemplation of nature’s beauties, is it absolutely necessary to rob 
 some father of his daughter, some husband of his wife, in order to 
 enjoy the thousand charms of a journey of love, through some land 
 of enchantment and of poetry ? Are the glorious skies, then, of 
 Spain or Italy always gloomy to those whose mutual love need 
 never blush 1 Oh ! believe me, I assure you again, there are inex- 
 haustible treasures of pure happiness and of romantic delights, in 
 a union based upon love, such as I picture it. For, I confess to 
 you, it would be impossible for me to look upon marriage as a 
 solitude peopled but by two beings, as a life of indifference, or even 
 of coll and polished decorum. Oh ! no — no — it is a life in which 
 I should wish to concentrate all the joys, all the adorations, all the 
 energies of my heart ! Believe me, now — now, that I can appre- 
 ciate all the false pleasures of youth, they seem to me as far removed 
 from true happiness, as superstition is from true religion. I know 
 not, mademoiselle, if you have well understood me — I know not 
 if I have succeeded in impressing you with even a feeble idea of my 
 thoughts and of my sentiments. Were I happy enough to have 
 done so, if, contrary to all hopes, you would permit me to authorise 
 the application which M. de Versac desires to make to Made- 
 moiselle de Maran on my account, believe me, mademoiselle — 
 believe me, as a man of honour, that if beloved by you, I would be 
 worthy of you in everything.” 
 
 As he said these last words, M. de Lancry, who had been sitting 
 in an arm chair, near the one which I occupied, rose with a motion 
 of touching seriousness — almost of solemnity. 
 
 I cannot tell you, my friend, all the emotions which a language 
 so new to my ears awakened in my heart ; a fresh and radiant 
 r 3 
 
116 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 horizon seemed to open before my vision, and I was seized with a 
 delicious surprise ; for, the words which Gontran had uttered, about 
 all the romance that existed in a tie of legitimate happiness, 
 translated, as it were, and thoroughly summed up a thousand 
 thoughts which had fleeted vaguely hitherto and confusedly through 
 my own mind. 
 
 That enchanting picture of love in marriage, with all the deli- 
 cacies, all the mysteries, and all the transports of passion, filled my 
 heart with hope unspeakable. I was too intensely happy to conceal 
 my delight, or to use the slightest dissimulation in my answer. I 
 felt my cheeks glow, and my heart beat — not, however, with 
 timidity ; but with a generous resolution. I hoped to elevate 
 myself as high as the man who had just addressed me with so 
 much sincerity, and whose words inspired me with such invincible 
 confidence. 
 
 “ I will be neither less frank, nor less sincere than yourself,” I 
 replied. “ I am an orphan, and I am responsible to God alone, for 
 the choice which I can, and which I choose to make. I have faith 
 in the love which you paint in such sweet and glowing hues, 
 because I myself have often, very often, dreamed of such a 
 
 future.” 
 
 “ Can it be possible, mademoiselle — can I venture to hope V 
 
 “ I have promised you to bs frank, and I will be so. Before I 
 give you, not a mere hope, but an absolute certainty, permit me, 
 in my turn, to say a few words about my own feelings ; and do not 
 look upon what I am about to say as if it were the expression 
 of any doubt on my part — a doubt, than which, nothing can be 
 farther from my thoughts. I love my cousin like the tenderest of 
 sisters. She has no fortune — she wishes to consult her heart in 
 marrying, and in order to prevent questions of mere worldly 
 
 interests from interfering with her choice, I am desirous of securing 
 half my own fortune to her. If she remains single, I wish her 
 
 always to continue with me. Will you, too, look upon her as 
 
 a sister ?” 
 
 Gontran at first gazed at me with astonishment ; then, clasping 
 his hands, he exclaimed — 
 
 “ What a noble heart ! — what a soul ! Who would not approve, 
 approve, did I say 1 who would not admire so generous an affection ? 
 Would not such conduct be a security for her elevation of character, 
 even were it possible to doubt it before ? Besides, do I not know 
 mademoiselle Ursule 1 — do I not know she is deserving of such de- 
 voted attachment !” 
 
 “ Oh ! enough, enough,” I exclaimed with unconquerable emotion. 
 
 “ I can see my heart finds an echo in your own. And now, one 
 question,” I added, casting down my eyes and hesitating — “ The 
 Duchess de Richeville V * 
 
 I could not add another word. 
 
 Gontran replied immediately — 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 117 
 
 “ I understand you, mademoiselle ; the world’s rumours have 
 reached your ears. Since my return from England, or rather since 
 the ball at the Austrian Embassy, I swear to you, upon my honour, 
 I have only been occupied with one thought — I dare not say — with 
 only one person.” 
 
 I extended my hand to Gontran, and could not restrain two tears 
 (oh ! what sweet ones) while I said — 
 
 “ If you wish for the orphan’s hand, it is yours. In the presence 
 of God I give it you.” 
 
 “ And,” replied Gontran, “ in the presence of that God, I swear 
 to deserve it.” And he fell on his knees so gracefully — so natu- 
 rally — I could almost say, so piously, lifting, as he did so, my hand 
 to his lips, that I saw nothing theatrical in the movement. 
 Never, in my life, did I experience such a feeling of blended 
 sweetness, serenity, and triumph. 
 
 Clasping my hands with force, I murmured in a voice of pro- 
 found emotion — 
 
 “ My God — my God !” how I thank thee for the future charms 
 and flowers which will strew my path of life !” 
 
 The noise of a carriage, in the Court yard, announced the return 
 of Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ Matilda,” said Gontran to me, “ will you permit me to propose 
 for you, to your aunt, now — this minute — here — and in your pre- 
 sence ? Then, I may be able, perhaps, to come back, and spend 
 the evening with you.” 
 
 “ Oh ! yes, yes !” I exclaimed with joy, * you are right — and 
 then you will come back this evening !” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran now made her appearance in the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 “ I’ll lay a wager,” she said to me, speaking from the drawing- 
 room door, “ that you don’t know what Ursula has been about, in 
 Touraine.” 
 
 “ No, madame.” 
 
 “ And you, Gontran ?” 
 
 “ I have not an idea.” 
 
 “ Well, then, I do know ; I have just been to M. d’Orbeval’s 
 notary (who is also my own) and he was up to his eyes in papers — 
 and guess what those papers were. I’ll defy you to do it.” 
 
 “ But, aunt” — 
 
 “ Those papers were settlements and deeds of gift, for Ursula,” 
 continued Mademoiselle de Maran, bursting out into one of her 
 loudest laughs, “ for Ursula, who is going to be married.” 
 
 “ Ursula going to be married — and without writing me word ! 
 She did not allude to it in her last letter !’' I exclaimed, painfully 
 astonished. 
 
 “ Wait a minute — wait a minute — Pierron just now, when he 
 opened the door, gave me some letters, which I put into my bag, 
 
118 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 without looking at them, and there is one, perhaps, for you, from 
 Ursula.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran felt in her bag, took out three letters, 
 read the addresses, and said, “ Just so, there is one for you, with 
 the Tours post-mark.” 
 
 “ Madame,” said M. de Lancry, to my aunt, “ the subject on 
 which I am about to take the liberty of addressing you is a very 
 serious one, and I am, doubtless, breaking through the common 
 usages of society, in thus entering upon such a subject without 
 preparation ; but I feel so happy, and especially so eager to enjoy, 
 as soon as possible, the privilege which will, perhaps, be granted to 
 me, that I take this opportunity of asking you for Mademoiselle 
 Matilde's hand in marriage, having already obtained her own 
 consent." 
 
 “ God bless my soul F exclaimed my aunt! what are you talking 
 about, Gontran '? It has fallen upon me like a thunderbolt ; I am 
 quite overcome. Who ever heard of a marriage arranged in such 
 a manner V 
 
 “ What you say is perfectly correct, madame ; if you will give 
 your consent, and if I can believe my own heart, this union will, 
 indeed, be an unexampled one," replied Gontran with a glance 
 at me. 
 
 “ But, really, now I am quite astounded. Things are never 
 done in this way, my good Gontran. These kinds of proposals 
 are always made by the heads of families, with all manner of pre- 
 ambles and preliminaries. The business is talked over, sometimes, 
 for a week at a time, and then, after a few more preliminaries, the 
 young lady is sent for, and told that it is just possible she may 
 stand some chance of being married some day, and that in such 
 a case, such or such a young man with such and such advantages 
 in his favour, would seem to be a suitable husband for her.” 
 
 “Well, aunt !” I said gaily, to Mademoiselle de Maran, “just 
 take for granted that all this tedious week of preliminaries has 
 already elapsed, and that you have told the young lady a suitable 
 offer has been made for her.” 
 
 “ What then T said my aunt. 
 
 “ Why, the young lady accepts the offer with profound gra- 
 titude,” was my reply to Mademoiselle de Maran, and for the first 
 time in my life I pressed tenderly her hand, which I had taken. 
 That hand was as cold as ice. She kept mine squeezed tightly for 
 some time, between her long, fleshless fingers, while she fixed a 
 piercing gaze upon my face, and at last smiled, as only she herself 
 could smile. 
 
 I could not conquer a feeling of vague dread, at that moment ; 
 but it soon vanished. 
 
 “ You are willing, then, my child, to marry that abominable 
 rake, arc you ? Very well, so let it be, then, I will not oppose 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 no 
 
 you. I give my consent, provided, however, the marriage be 
 approved by your guardian, M d’Orbeval, and by your uncle, 
 Gontran.” 
 
 “ It was his intention to have opened the subject to you 
 himself, madame,” replied M. de Lancry, who was transported 
 with joy. 
 
 “ Oh ! aunt, you are, indeed, a second mother to me !*' I ex- 
 claimed, uncontrollably moved, and embracing Mademoiselle de 
 Maran with enthusiastic tenderness. 
 
 “ Ha ! ha ! ha ! Do you hear this madcap V said my aunt, 
 laughing loudly with that harsh and bitter laugh of hers, “ a second 
 mother indeed !” 
 
 Alas ! I had spoken blasphemy, when I gave the name of 
 mother to Mademoiselle de Maran, and cruelly did the Almighty 
 punish me for it. 
 
 That evening, at nine o'clock, Gontran returned with his uncle, 
 M. de Versac, who announced, officially, to my aunt, that the King 
 had been kind enough to allow him to settle the succession to his 
 title of Duke, and to his rank of Peer, on M. de Lancry, at the 
 latter's marriage. 
 
 “ By which means, you will be a Duchess some day, which is, 
 decidedly, agreeable, especially when you have an income exceed- 
 ing a hundred thousand francs a-year, in the bargain,” observed 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 She then added — 
 
 “ Talking of incomes, I have given orders to say I am not at 
 home, this evening. I and M. de Versac have got settlements, 
 et cetera , to discuss, and lovers know nothing about that sort of 
 thing. Be kind enough, therefore, to leave us in peace, and get 
 along with you into my library.” 
 
 What can I tell you, my friend, of that evening, spent so deli- 
 ciously in talking of a future, which was arrayed in such gorgeous 
 hues 1 Was it possible to unite more certain chances of happiness ? 
 Wit, beauty, fascination — delicacy, merit, birth and fortune — were 
 not all these advantages to be found in him who was about to 
 become my husband 1 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 URSULA'S LETTER. 
 
 On going up to my own apartments, what was my surprise to 
 find, in my study, an enormous basket full of jessamines and 
 heliotropes, my favourite flowers ? It was now February ; only 
 
120 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 since the morning had Gontran acquired, as it were, the right to 
 offer me a bouquet, and I could not imagine how, in so short a time, 
 he had been able to collect such a mass of flowers — flowers, too, 
 which at that season of the year, were, if anything, more rare than 
 valued. I was deeply touched by this attention. Blondeau was 
 in the room, and I told her all my happiness, and all my hopes. 
 After listening to me attentively, that excellent woman replied — 
 
 “ Certainly, mademoiselle, M. le Vicomte de Lancry is as fasci- 
 nating as you say — I believe it. It is possible, too, he may be a 
 Duke some day ; but permit me to observe that before taking so 
 irrevocable a step as marriage, it is always prudent to make 
 enquiries. 5 ' 
 
 “ Enquiries ! What do you mean 1 You must be mad ! Do 
 you not suppose that his uncle, M. de V ersac, has given every 
 satisfactory information to my aunt ?” 
 
 Blondeau shook her head. 
 
 “ The accounts which relations are apt to give, mademoiselle, 
 are not always to be depended upon ; we must not trust implicitly 
 to their reports, nor often to those of the world.” 
 
 “ What can you mean ?” 
 
 “ Now, mademoiselle, if you would allow me, I could manage to 
 find out a good many things, by making the Viscount’s servants 
 gossip down stairs.” 
 
 “ Oh ! that would be shameful !” I exclaimed, “ Is it you who 
 dare to suggest such a vile system of espionnage to me ? Becollect 
 that if you attach the least value to my affection for you, you will 
 this instant promise me not to put the least question to M. de 
 Lancry’s servants.” 
 
 “ But, mademoiselle, it is your aunt, to speak correctly, who has 
 arranged this marriage ; and do you forget all her wicked treat- 
 ment — her hatred for the poor Marchioness, your mother, who died 
 of a broken heart, from Mademoiselle de Maran’s cruelty ? Oh ! 
 mademoiselle, reflect well before you bind yourself for ever — forgive 
 me for speaking to you thus — I am but a poor woman ; but I love 
 you like a child of my own, and that feeling gives me ideas above 
 my station, and courage, at the same time, to express them to you. . 
 Poor mademoiselle ! you are so confiding, so good, so generous, 
 that you distrust no one ; you think just the same of Mademoiselle 
 Ursule ; but I do not believe her to be sincere in spite of 
 all her sighs and hey airs of a would-be martyr.” 
 
 “ Listen to me, Blondeau, 1 can understand that a feeling of 
 jealousy for my affection towards her, may induce you to speak 
 unjustly of Mademoiselle d’Orbeval, and I can, therefore, excuse 
 such a feeling on your part ; but I must request that you will not 
 permit yourself the least allusion to a marriage which I am deter- 
 mined to contract, because it is an honourable, and promises to 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 121 
 
 be a happy one. I know what I am about ; I am no longer a 
 child. It was not Mademoiselle de Maran who advised this union ; 
 but I myself spoke to her on the subject. Besides, I feel there, 
 in my heart, that were my mother living, she would approve the 
 choice which that heart has made.” 
 
 “ Mademoiselle, I will make but one more observation. If the 
 information which one might obtain respecting the Viscount should 
 be satisfactory, as you yourself are certain it would be, what difference 
 can it make to you, if — 1” 
 
 “ Listen,” I said to Blondeau in a tone of great decision, “ I cannot 
 prevent you from doing what you may take into your head ; but 
 whatever might be the pain which I should feel (and, doubtless, it 
 would be considerable) at depriving myself of your services, I 
 positively declare to you, that if you say another word to me upon 
 this subject, I will immediately discharge you, after having made 
 due provision for your future wants.” 
 
 “ Ah ! mademoiselle, do not look at me like that. Oh ! God, it 
 is just like the time when you were a little girl, and when, led 
 away by your aunt’s wicked counsels, you told me I ‘ loved money 
 better than anything .’ ” 
 
 And the poor woman burst into tears. 
 
 “ Ah 1” I said to her with painful impatience, and almost 
 harshly, “ I was so happy just now ; why have you interrupted 
 that happiness with these absurd fancies of yours ?” 
 
 And then, not choosing to let any profane hand touch the 
 precious basket of flowers which Gontran had sent me, I took it 
 up and carried it into my room. From that day I grew accus- 
 tomed to have flowers close to me, without feeling any effect 
 from them but a slight sensation of stupor, by no means dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 By degrees, the impatience, which Blondeau’s observations had 
 caused me, subsided under the influence of that day’s enchanting 
 remembrances. My mind had been so wholly absorbed, that I had 
 not yet opened Ursula’s letter, announcing her marriage. 
 
 That letter I have preserved, as well as several others — 
 here it is. 
 
 You will remark, in reading it, that the style is somewhat stilted 
 and romantic. I often lectured my cousin upon this manner of 
 writing, but was unable to correct her of the habit. 
 
 You, my friend, who know almost all the various phases of my 
 friendship for Ursula, and the consequences of her marriage, you, 
 like myself, will be unable to check a bitter smile, when you peruse 
 these piteous, mournful lines, in which she throws so lugubriously 
 round herself the dark drapery of a victim. 
 
 But, then , times had not changed ; all my illusions were in their 
 full force, and I was cruelly pained at this mixture of Ursula’ 
 
122 
 
 THE OitPHAif. 
 
 misery. I have nothing more to say about the letter, except that 
 it was written in a remarkably neat and steady hand ; the wax 
 was black, and the seal was a death’s head, a fantastic emblem 
 which Ursula possessed, engraved upon a pebble, and to which she 
 was very partial. 
 
 “ Saint Norbet, February, 1830. 
 
 “ Matilda, it is done, your poor Ursula is sacrificed, and nothing 
 is now left for her but to devote her whole existence to tears and 
 mourning. Scarcely through the gloomy future which awaits her, 
 can she discern some consolatory rays, which, doubtless, will owe 
 all their light to your cherished friendship. But, oh ! God, 
 why should I be astonished at the new blow which has fallen 
 upon me 1” 
 
 “ Have I not long grown habituated to suffering ? What can a 
 victim resigned to her misery like myself do, but bow the head 
 and weep ? 
 
 « Forgive me, my friend, my sister, for coming to darken your 
 joys by these mournful accents which will force their passage from 
 my desolate soul, for, my presentiments will not deceive me ; you 
 will be happy, you are happy, you will marry him you love. So 
 beautiful, so wealthy, so charming, you have but to be seen, in order 
 to fascinate. 
 
 “ Poor Ursula, on the contrary, without beauty, without attrac- 
 tion, without fortune, has been, almost from her birth, consecrated 
 to unhappiness. How can it be helped ? It is her destiny. But 
 what do I say % No, no ; I am unjust. Did I not meet you on 
 my dreary road ? Did you not extend a friendly hand to the little 
 forsaken one 1 and has she not been indebted to your generosity — 
 to your touching friendship, for a brilliant education, that most 
 precious of all gifts, as Mademoiselle de Maran is never weary of 
 impressing upon me, and with reason. 
 
 “ Is it not to you that I have owed, and owe still, that feeling 
 which is the dearest and the sweetest to my heart 1 Alas ! were 
 it not for that — were it not for the involuntary hope which it 
 inspires, I should have died of despair ere this, and you could 
 have done nothing more for your friend than weep over her 
 memory. 
 
 « Listen to me, Matilda ; you will call it madness, and so it may 
 be ; but a melancholy and mournful madness, I assure you. I am 
 a prey to gloomy presentiments — I know not what future destiny 
 awaits me — whatever may be the result, I wish to leave you a re- 
 membrance of your poor Ursula — I wisn to give you my books, and 
 those little coral ornaments you have seen me wear so often. 
 
 “ Alas ! I am portionless ; I have nothing — forgive the poverty 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 123 
 
 of my gifts ; but, at least, they will recal to your heart the remem- 
 brance of the days when we worked together — the remembrance 
 of our innocent and girlish coquetry — will they not do this, 
 Matilda h You will weep for your friend ; and even in the midst 
 of those brilliant assemblies, of which you will be the queen, will 
 not a vague remembrance of your Ursula sometimes pass through 
 your thoughts 1 
 
 “ I would make my final resting-place here. Often have I en- 
 tered the modest village cemetery, and nothing about it is repulsive ; 
 it is a verdant, green sward, enclosed by a hedge of elder trees and 
 hawthorns, whose blossoms would smile in spring, a brief smile, ere 
 they, too, faded and fell upon the resting-place of the dead. A few 
 simple, wooden crosses are scattered here and there, and oh ! 
 sweet would it be to me, could I, too, repose there, undistinguished 
 from the humble tenants of those unknown graves ; for, like them, 
 I should have passed through this dreary world unnoticed and 
 unmarked. 
 
 “ Pardon me, Matilda, for beginning my letter in this mournful 
 strain ; but my heart is a prey to such piercing anguish, that I 
 have suffered myself to be carried away by the bitterness of my 
 feelings. 
 
 “ But I must tell you the subject of my tears. 
 
 “ I am about to marry ! 
 
 “ What a marriage, good God ! Farewell dreams of my girl- 
 hood ! Farewell, my vague and delicious hopes ! and oh ! bitterest 
 pang of all — farewell that existence, with its every instant of 
 devoted affection, which I longed to spend with you. 
 
 “ For a moment I thought of resisting the terrible and implacable 
 will of my father ; but I felt that my strength would soon fail 
 me in so unequal a struggle, and that I should be crushed in the 
 contest ; besides, I had a far more powerful reason to consider 
 resignation as my duty. I obeyed ; you shall soon know why. 
 
 “ Eight days ago, the very day I had written to you, unconscious 
 of the fate that awaited me, my father sent for me into his room. 
 You have never seen my father except in society, or in the pre- 
 sence of Mademoiselle de Maran, of whom he stands much in awe, 
 and, doubtless, he has only appeared a grave and methodical person 
 to you. Here, however, he is used to domineer, and to speak as 
 a stem and inflexible master ; his countenance, even, is totally 
 different in its expression, and becomes harsh, nay, almost 
 threatening. 
 
 “ ‘ You are portionless/ he said to me, 1 and it is time to think 
 of an establishment for you. I have found an unexpectedly advan- 
 tageous match — a young man, with an income of sixty thousand 
 livres, besides expectations, and the chances of his income being 
 increased ; for he manages his fortune marvellously well, and is a 
 
m 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 thorough man of business. He is coming here to-morrow, with 
 his mother. Take your measures so as to please him, for if he 
 likes you, the match is a settled affair. Above all, be unaffected 
 and cheerful, for M. Secherin is a good-humoured young man, plain 
 in manners, and without a particle of ceremony. I will now leave 
 you to reflect upon what I have said, for I have to go to my Santaies 
 farm. Upon my word that unlucky estate costs me more than it 
 brings me in, and you had needs to make a good match, so 
 as not to be left, after my death, in a position even below 
 mediocrity.’ 
 
 “ Without giving me time to answer a word, my father left me 
 by myself. 
 
 “ Oh ! my friend, I cannot tell you into what an abyss of 
 misery I felt myself to fall, when I heard those fatal words. I who, 
 as you well know, have ever, like yourself, pictured in my dreams, 
 the ecstatic union of two hearts, which are sure, sooner or later, to 
 meet together, because each is always involuntarily looking for 
 the other. 
 
 “ I spent that night in tears. You will, perhaps, ask me, my 
 good and tender sister, if I had forgotten your generous promise, 
 either to share your fortune with me, in order to facilitate my 
 consulting my own heart in marriage, or else to keep me always 
 with you, if no suitable union should present itself. No, Matilda, 
 no ; I had not forgotten that promise ! I knew that your heart 
 was magnanimous and noble enough to keep it, and it was for that 
 very reason that I resolved to render impossible the sacrifice which 
 you wished to make to our friendship. 
 
 “ Blinded by the affectionate devotion of your heart — a devotion 
 as admirable as it was imprudent — you had not given a thought 
 to the future ; your wealth, though considerable, would not bear 
 the division you proposed ; with your actual fortune, you are an 
 opulent heiress, and might aspire to a most brilliant match ; but 
 were you to share that fortune with me, your chances would be 
 diminished by a moiety. 
 
 “ Doubtless, to be ever with you, has been one of my girlhood’s 
 delightful dreams. But who can tell whether such an arrangement 
 would be accepted by him whom you might select as a husband ? 
 Oh ! God, I would sooner die a thousand deaths than be the cause 
 of the slightest disagreement between yourself and him ! I have 
 resigned myself, therefore, Matilda, and in my friendship — in my 
 devotion to you, I have found strength so to resign myself. 
 
 “ Nay, I shall eternally bless the sacrifice which I have imposed 
 upon myself, for I shall think that by it, I may have, perhaps, con- 
 tributed to secure your future happiness. 
 
 Alas ! it has cost me much, and I wept many and bitter 
 tears during the night which preceded first interview with M. 
 Secherin. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 125 
 
 “ Dare I tell, dare I confess everything to you ? For a moment 
 an impious thought checked the course of my tears. My father’s 
 house is surrounded by moats of immense depth — I got up — I 
 opened my window — I tried to measure its height with my eyes ; 
 the moon was veiled by clouds ; it was a melancholy winter’s 
 night ; the wind moaned ; I leant over the balcony, and said, to 
 myself — ‘ Better far a death, however guilty, than the miserable 
 existence which awaits me.’ I was seized with dizziness, and I was 
 about, perhaps, to yield to a fatal impulse, when in bidding adieu 
 to all I loved — that is, to you — your image, rising to my memory, 
 restrained me. Thank you — thank you again, Matilda, for that 
 remembrance stopped me at the very edge of the abyss — prevented 
 me from committing a crime, and I resigned myself to live. 
 
 Alas ! that life, for which I so feebly struggle with the sorrows 
 that overwhelm me, that life will it not soon wear out ! Oh ! if 
 that should indeed be so, I would bless God for withdrawing me 
 
 from earth, and I would accept death, at His hands, as a sweet 
 
 recompense for the many sacrifices to which I have had the 
 courage to submit. 
 
 " The fatal day arrived ; in the morning my father renewed his 
 instructions to me with fresh severity, and I awaited with as much 
 despair, as mournful indifference, the moment when I should be 
 introduced to M. Secherin. 
 
 “ In spite of the orders and anger of my father, I had paid no 
 
 attention to my toilet. Good God, how could I have the courage 
 
 to do so 1 I was dressed in black, and that dress was a faithful 
 emblem of the thoughts which pierced my heart. My hair fell 
 down in long ringlets on each side of my face, which had become 
 pale from sorrow, and I bent so low under the burden of misery, 
 which oppressed me, that Mademoiselle de Maran would, most cer- 
 tainly, and that time with reason, have reproached me with being 
 deformed. 
 
 “ My father’s harsh remonstrances were all in vain — in vain he 
 commanded me to hold myself more gracefully, and to put on a 
 cheerful look. I could not conquer the painful emotions which 
 agitated me, and I scarcely turned my head, when M. Secherin 
 and his mother were announced. 
 
 “ M. Eloi Secherin is, according to my father’s account, engaged 
 in business undertakings of vast extent, and he adds daily to the 
 fortune which was left him by his father. I can tell you nothing 
 about his appearance or his manners, for I beheld everything 
 darkly, and through a veil of tears. 
 
 “ M. Eloi Secherin must be easily seduced, for after he was gone, 
 my father came to me and was profuse in compliments, assuring 
 me that my manner had been unaffected, unpretending, in a word, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 126 
 
 perfect, and that M. Secherin and his mother had gone away de- 
 lighted with me. 
 
 “ I resemble some poor prisoner whose eyes are still unable to 
 penetrate the icy darkness which shuts her in. It was but very 
 vaguely that I saw M. Secherin and his mother, and I can retain 
 but a confused idea of either. I heard, rather than listened, to 
 a few words, and replied mechanically to them. The articles of 
 marriage are to be signed this very day, and the marriage itself, I 
 believe, is to take place to-morrow or the day after. 
 
 u When you see me at Paris, a few days hence, you will open — 
 will you not h your arms to the poor victim who is so obedient and 
 so resigned. 
 
 “ Forgive me, forgive me, Matilda, for thus coming to throw a 
 gloom over your happiness, for a secret presentiment tells me that 
 you are happy, and that you are loved by him . Since the ball at 
 the embassy you know it ; I told you you would love him, and I 
 am certain he has shown himself deserving of that love by re- 
 turning it. 
 
 “ Happy, happy Matilda f it requires all my certain assurance of 
 your felicity to aid me in supporting the miserable chain of life 
 which I am about to drag on — till the burden of my sufferings 
 becomes too heavy, and then I shall quit this world of grief, casting 
 back one last farewell look of regret upon the years I passed 
 with you. 
 
 “ Adieu, adieu — one more miserable adieu ! For an instant I 
 had thought of entreating you, on my knees, to be present at my 
 marriage, and thus to support my sinking courage ; but I re- 
 flected that the sight of you would deprive me of all the little 
 energy that I have remaining, by recalling to my mind how much 
 I lose by our separation. Adieu ! once more, when you see your 
 poor Ursula again, you will, I am well assured, recognise her with 
 difficulty. 
 
 “ Adieu ! oh ! adieu ! my strength fails me — I have wept so 
 much — to thee, to thee, from my heart, from the very depth of 
 that heart, 
 
 “ URSULA D’ORBEVAL.” - 
 
 I was thunder-struck at this letter. 
 
 One thought predominated in my mind, that Ursula had, as she 
 told me herself, literally sacrificed herself for me, for fear she should 
 be an obstacle to my marriage with M. de Lancry. 
 
 I next reproached my cousin for having placed so little reliance 
 upon my affection, and that of Gontran. Such a deep melancholy, 
 such a profound despair pervaded her letter, that I became se- 
 riously uneasy, fearing that Ursula would become alarmingly ill 
 from depression. 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 127 
 
 I had but one hope that Ursula’s marriage might be delayed, I deter- 
 mined to beg Gontran next day to set off immediately for Touraine, 
 that he might entreat my cousin to break off this marriage, and 
 that he might, in person, assure her that not the least obstacle 
 would be thrown in the way of our union by the fulfilment of my 
 promises to her. 
 
 I passed a most agitated night, and next day awaited Gontran’s 
 coming with the greatest anxiety. He did not, for an instant, 
 hesitate to comply with my request that he would go to Ursula ; 
 he understood, and shared in my fears, with a kindness that was 
 perfectly adorable. We agreed that he should say nothing about 
 this expedition to Mademoiselle de Maran, and that he should set 
 off instantly. We were still conversing upon this subject, which 
 was such an interesting one to me, when a letter from Tours was 
 brought to me. 
 
 Ursula’s marriage had taken place. The letter I had received 
 from her the day before, ought to have been delivered several 
 days earlier. 
 
 I was quite in despair at this intelligence. I was so happy in 
 my own love for Gontran, that I was the better able to understand 
 the cruel misery of Ursula’s fate. 
 
 My cousin wrote me word that she should arrive in Paris, in 
 a few days, with her father and her husband, and that she should 
 spend the latter part of the winter in the capital. 
 
 I went up stairs to my own apartment, to write to my cousin — 
 to complain of her want of confidence — to console, to encourage 
 her ; in a word, to set before her eyes the advantages which her 
 misery prevented her, perhaps, from perceiving in this marriage, 
 which was at present her despair. 
 
 I found Blondeau in my study, and she told me that a woman 
 wished to speak to me, who had come in order to solicit my aid in 
 a work of charity. 
 
 I desired Blondeau to show her in. 
 
 My visiter was a woman closely wrapped up in a cloak, and 
 her features were completely concealed by an extremely thick, 
 black veil. 
 
 When Blondeau had left us alone together, the stranger threw 
 off her cloak, and raised her veil. 
 
 It was the Duchess de Richeville. 
 
 ■o- 
 
128 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 I was so astonished — I might, almost, say terrified, at the sight of 
 Madame de Richeville, that I leant, for support, on the hack of an 
 arm-chair which was placed near me. 
 
 The features of the Duchess, however, wore, by no means, an 
 expression of menace. She appeared to me to be much changed, 
 and to have become very thin ; she seemed under the influence of 
 some strong emotion, and gazed at me with a look of intense 
 interest. 
 
 She hastened to address me in the following words, as if to 
 induce me to listen to her, and to put myself at ease with 
 her : — 
 
 “ Strange, mademoiselle, as this visit may seem to you, do not 
 be uneasy at it ; I come in the name of a mutual friend, M. de 
 Mortagne.” 
 
 “ Has he arrived then, madame ?” 
 
 “ Alas ! he has not ; and though he is expected every minute, 
 
 I am not, as yet, able to tell you anything about his mysterious 
 voyage ; but I know that he feels a deep interest in you. Eight 
 years ago, just after his last interview with Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 he told me everything — the family council, and the scene with your 
 aunt, when he carried you in his arms into Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 room, notwithstanding the snarlings of Felix. I enter into all 
 these details, in order to convince you that, that man, the most 
 generous of men, reposed the utmost confidence in me. It is in 
 the name of that confidence, mademoiselle, that I am come to ask. 
 you for your own.” 
 
 “ Mine, madame ? — you V — 
 
 I laid such a stress upon the word you, that Madame de 
 Richeville replied with a bitter smile — 
 
 “ Poor child ! can you, who are still so young, already put faith 
 in the calumnies of the world 1 — can they have already impaired 
 that enchanting kindness of disposition which M. de Mortagne 
 foresaw in you, and which every feature of yours reveals 1 Why 
 receive me so coldly, when the step which I have taken is dictated 
 by your interest alone, and has been taken, I may say, under the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 129 
 
 authority of a man who was one of your poor mother’s best friends 1 
 Tell me, why do you receive me thus T 
 
 It is impossible to describe the insinuating charm of Madame 
 de Riche ville's voice, or to give an idea of the half-melancholy, 
 half-affectionate look which accompanied her words. I was moved 
 in spite of the secret jealousy with which she inspired me, and I 
 replied, with less distance in my manner — 
 
 “ I may be allowed, Madame, to be astonished, at a visit which 
 I had no right to hope for, not having the honour of your 
 acquaintance.” 
 
 “ About a month ago, when we were coming out from the Opera, 
 did I not say these words to you, 1 Poor child — beware V ” 
 
 “ I certainly heard those words, madame ; but I knew not with 
 what intent they were uttered.” 
 
 “ You knew not T asked Madame de Riche ville with a piercing 
 look, which brought a blush into my cheek. 
 
 Unwilling, doubtless, to increase my confusion, she conti- 
 nued, throwing, if possible, still more affection into her look and 
 her voice — 
 
 “ Listen to me — I must give you some explanations respecting 
 the past, to induce you to put faith in my words, and in order that 
 I may begin the subject which brings me here. M. de Mortagne 
 was always a friend of mine, and in former days he rendered me 
 one of those services, which a generous heart can only repay by a 
 whole life's friendship ; and when I say friendship, I mean, also, 
 the sacred duties which that tie inspires. I know not in what 
 black colours I may have been represented to you by your aunt ; 
 but some day I hope you will know that my most deadly enemies 
 have never dared to deny my courage and devotion in the cause 
 of my friends. Hereafter, perhaps, you will learn the motive of 
 my eternal gratitude towards M. de Mortagne. I knew — I know 
 now, all the interest he feels in you, and what he loves, I love too. 
 Here, then, is one reason, is there not, why you should interest me 
 in so lively a manner 1 There are many who hate me bitterly and 
 implacably ; but none with more virulence, and more determination, 
 than Mademoiselle de Maran. I am aware that your aunt did 
 all in her power to render your childhood unhappy, and now she 
 is doing all she can to render you the most miserable of women. 
 You ought to detest her as much as I do. Here, then, is another 
 reason why you should interest me. To rescue you from her 
 wicked machinations, to open your eyes to fresh treachery on her 
 part — in a word, to prove my friendship — my gratitude for M. de 
 Mortagne, by acting in your behalf, as he would have acted him- 
 self ; here, surely, are motives sufficiently powerful to explain the 
 interest which I feel in you.” 
 
 “ I may, madame, have had formerly some cause to complain of 
 K. 
 
130 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran ; but within these last few days she has 
 done so much for me, that it is my duty to forget the vexations of 
 my girlish days.” 
 
 I purposely laid a stress upon the words, she has done so much 
 for me , that I might make Madame de Richeville understand that 
 I alluded to my approaching marriage with Gontran. 
 
 The Duchess shook her head in a melancholy manner, and said 
 to me — “ She has done so much for you ! — yes, you speak truly ; 
 she never did so much before for your — misery !” 
 
 From that moment I fancied I could guess the purpose of 
 Madame de Richeville’s visit. She loved Gontran ; his intended 
 marriage with me rendered her furious, and she had, doubtless, 
 come to calumniate M. de Lancry, in order to break off, if pos- 
 sible, this abhorred union. This reflection made Gontran still 
 more dear to me, because endeavours were used to wrest his heart 
 from. me. I felt almost proud that a woman like Madame de 
 Richeville, so beautiful, so haughty, so contemptuous towards the 
 world, should have recourse to disguise, and to the most adroit and 
 most complicated falsehoods, in order to play, with all humility, so 
 odious a part in my presence. Being quite determined to consider 
 the conduct of the duchess under this point of view, I replied very 
 drily to Madame de Richeville — 
 
 “ I repeat, madame, that now I can only feel profoundly grateful 
 for, and touched by, all that Mademoiselle de Maran has done 
 for me.” 
 
 “ It is just so,” said Madame de Richeville, “ and because it is 
 so, and because you may blindly fall into ilie trap they have set 
 for you, unhappy child, I have come to you now. You are aban- 
 doned by all — isolated from all ! Look round you, and of whom 
 can you ask advice ; in whom can you confide, since the departure 
 of your only friend — your only protector V’ 
 
 “ You are right, madame, I have no one,” 
 
 “No one ! not even myself, do you mean ? Matilda, this is 
 cruel — oh ! do not be offended at this familiarity. I am twice as 
 old as you, and then I do not know what I can do or say to 
 break through this icy coldness which places such a barrier between 
 us. Forgive me, if I employ words that are, perchance, too affec- 
 tionate, in addressing you. Good God ! at such a moment as this 
 can I pay attention to what I utter from my heart ?” 
 
 It required all my prejudice against, and jealousy of, Madame de 
 Richeville, to prevent my being disarmed by the enchanting and 
 graceful manner in which the Duchess uttered these last words. 
 As invariably happens, in the disposition of mind in v. hich I then 
 was, certain words are sure to move one deeply, or to disgust one 
 still more, from their appearance of hypocrisy. I replied then to 
 Madame de Richeville — 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 131 
 
 “ I am desirous, madame, to know the purpose of this interview ; 
 if its only end be, to awaken my former subjects of complaint 
 against Mademoiselle de Maran, though thanking you for the 
 interest you express towards me in the name of M. de Mortagne, 
 I can but assure you, once more, madame, that now I have every 
 reason to be pleased with Mademoiselle de Maran’s conduct 
 towards me.” 
 
 “ You must have suffered much already ; your young feelings 
 must have been sadly bruised, to enable you to maintain such 
 self-possession at seventeen,” said Madame de Riclieville, looking a-t 
 me with an expression of melancholy compassion, “ or your preju- 
 dices against me must be, indeed, invincible.” 
 
 She then added, speaking to herself — “ What is the use of at- 
 tempting ? — what matters it ? — it is a duty” — and addressing 
 herself to me, she said eagerly — 
 
 “ Yes, it is a duty, and I will perform it. They are desirous 
 of marrying you to M. de Lancry ?” 
 
 “ Mademoiselle de Maran and M. de Versac have merely approved 
 a resolution which I and M. de Lancry had taken beforehand, 
 madame ; and this marriage is a settled affair,” I replied, quite 
 proud and triumphant at my ability to crush my rival by these 
 words, which were, perhaps, but unbecoming ones, to fall from the 
 lips of a young girl. 
 
 “Do you know what M. de Lancry is T 
 “ Madame” — 
 
 “ Well, I will tell you, then. M. de Lancry is ‘a delightful man, 
 remarkable for gracefulness, wit, and courage — a man of perfect 
 manners and finished elegance — all this you know — do you not 
 unhappy girl ? This brilliant exterior has seduced you, nor do I 
 reproach you for this ; but beneath that brilliant exterior are 
 concealed a seared heart, an unconquerable selfishness, and an insa- 
 tiable thirst for money, that endeavours to satisfy itself by the 
 maddest orgies of the gambling-house. His fortune has been long 
 completely squandered away, and his debts are considerable. Be- 
 lieve me, Matilda, Mademoiselle de Maran has given every facility 
 and encouragement to this marriage, because such a union will 
 throw you headlong down an abyss of incalculable misery. I im- 
 plore you, then, in the name of your friend, M. de Mortagne, 
 wait till he returns, which will be ere long, before you marry this 
 man ; you do not know whom you have chosen ! Once more, I 
 entreat you, wait for M. de Mortagne, oh ! wait for him, in the 
 name of your sainted mother !” 
 
 “ Enough, madame !” I indignantly exclaimed ; “ I will not 
 suffer my mothers name to be invoked to protect the calumny 
 which you — you, the Duchess de Riclieville — have condescended 
 to utter. Ah ! madame, how have I ever injured you, that vou 
 k 3 
 
132 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 should attempt to envenom that which I looked upon, and look 
 upon still — God is my witness — as the only happiness — the only 
 hope of my existence ? Ah ! I shudder with fear when I think 
 that these odious words, had they been uttered by any other but 
 yourself, madame, might, perhaps, have impaired the confidence, 
 the admiration, and the love with which M. de Lancry has in- 
 spired me.” 
 
 “ You would, perhaps, have believed these words, if any other 
 had uttered them,” repeated Madame de Richeville, looking at me 
 attentively, and seemingly endeavouring to discover the meaning 
 with which I had spoken, “ and why do you place less confidence 
 in me than in any one else T 
 
 t{ Do you ask me why, madame % Have you not been speaking 
 of M. de Lancry ? And, solitary as my life has been, yet, certain 
 reports” — 
 
 “ Ah ! unhappy child ! she thinks me jealous of M. de Lancry !” 
 exclaimed Madame de Richeville, in tones of surprise, almost of 
 terror. “ Then, indeed, is all lost, Matilda, if you believe that. 
 Oh, God ! oh, God ! you must have heard me most foully slan- 
 dered, to believe me worthy of so infamous an accusation. Pas- 
 sionately in love with M. de Lancry myself, I have come here to 
 calumniate him in your ears, in order to put beyond the pale of 
 possibility, a marriage which would be my despair. Speak — speak — 
 do you not believe this T 
 
 “ Excuse my replying, madame.” 
 
 “ Well, then, I will make a confession to you — a painful — oh ! 
 a most cruel one ; but what matters it ? It may, perhaps, 
 save you.” 
 
 After a long hesitation, Madame de Richeville continued at last, 
 with a trembling voice, blushing deeply, and exhibiting every mark 
 of confusion — 
 
 “ Know, then, that I, like yourself, have loved M. de Lancry ; 
 yes, his brilliant exterior seduced me, as it has you. But I soon 
 discovered all his egotism, indifference, harshness, nay, even cruelty, 
 when once his vanity was satisfied ; so that now I know not 
 whether I hate or despise him most.” 
 
 These last words of Madame de Richeville appeared to me so 
 odious, that, losing all self controul, I exclaimed — 
 
 “ And yet, madame, at the ball at the Austrian Embassy, you 
 did not think thus.” 
 
 Madame de Richeville made a slight movement with her shoul- 
 ders, a movement expressive of impatience and pain. 
 
 “ If you will but listen to me, you will know why I acted as I 
 did at that ball, and you will acquire a knowledge of what M. de 
 Lancry really is. Nearly a year ago I had just met with a severe 
 misfortune ; I was the most wretched of women. May you never 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 133 
 
 feel, Matilda, how suffering enfeebles us, may you never be un- 
 happy, so that you may not discover the dangerous fascinations of 
 a friendly voice when it consoles and pities us. I believed M. de 
 Lancry’s protestations ; I became sincerely and devotedly attached 
 to him ; I was the best and tenderest of friends towards him, and 
 I lived then almost in privacy, endeavouring, as my only occupation, 
 to anticipate every thought, every desire of his. One day, I missed 
 his accustomed visit ; I grew uneasy, and sent to his residence. 
 He had set off for London that morning, without writing me a line, 
 and leaving me to learn from the world’s mouth, that he had gone 
 to England to join some actress who, for some few days previous, 
 had shared his attentions with me. This conduct was so brutal, so 
 cowardly, that my anger turned against myself, and I was indignant 
 at having been the dupe of such a man. To my great surprise, 
 a most complete and contemptuous indifference succeeded those 
 tender feelings, which the day before I had fancied indestructible. 
 There are some insults so miserable in their baseness, that they 
 excite pity instead of anger. When I met M. de Lancry at the 
 embassy, it was the first time I had seen him since he had so 
 vilely sacrificed me. In spite of his assurance, he was embarrassed. 
 I felt nothing — nothing but a wish to prove to him my contempt, 
 by a kind of careless affability of manner — I wished for no further 
 revenge. But to men in general, and especially to men of M. de 
 Lancry’s disposition, nothing is more wounding, nothing more cruel, 
 than to see a smile of indifference on the lips of the victim at 
 whom they have aimed a death blow. I have told you with what 
 interest M. de Mortagne had spoken to me about you, and I was 
 looking at you with an affectionate curiosity, when Mademoiselle 
 de Maran addressed me, with some of those bitter words, of which 
 you were unable to understand the hidden meaning. 1 had suf- 
 ficient command over myself to answer her by a simple fact, which 
 was sure to strike her almost with terror — the approaching arrival 
 of M. de Mortagne, which I knew would soon take place. He has 
 been the victim of an abominable plot ; but you will see him 
 before long. 
 
 “ Good God, madame !” I exclaimed, “ what do you mean ? M. 
 de Mortagne !” 
 
 “ I cannot tell you all yet,” replied Madame de Richeville, “ but 
 he will soon be here. It is for this reason that I implore you to 
 wait before you contract this fatal marriage. A few more words,” 
 added the Duchess, perceiving my impatience, “ and then I will 
 leave you. That very evening, at the embassy, the projects of 
 your aunt and M. de V ersac were no longer a secret. Every body 
 was saying that the Duke had only recalled his nephew from England, 
 that he might not lose the chance of such a wealthy match. 
 When, on the next evening but one, I saw you at the Opera, in the 
 
134 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 box belonging to the Gentlemen of the Chamber, I no longer 
 doubted the reality of these reports. Your aunt and M. de Versae 
 had designedly confirmed them, by suffering you to appear openly 
 in the Opera box with M. de Lancry, in order to prevent the pro- 
 posals of any other suitor. Mademoiselle de Maran knew that a 
 young man, whom I shall mention to you presently, in whom M. de 
 Mortagne takes a most lively interest and who had seen you at the 
 embassy, was about to ask for your hand in marriage, so deep an 
 impression had you mado upon his heart. I perceived your dan- 
 gerous position, and as we came out of the opera-house, I said to 
 you, ‘ Poor child, beware !’ I resolved not to confine myself to 
 that fruitless warning ; I wished to have told you what I have 
 said to-day, before M. de Lancry had made any impression on your 
 heart ; favoured as he is, by the natural advantages which he 
 possesses, and by the protection of your aunt, he was sure to please 
 you. Unfortunately, I was indisposed the morning after the Opera, 
 and I subsequently became so seriously unwell, that I could not put 
 my project into execution. In this difficulty I confided the whole 
 matter to one of my female friends, Madame de Mirecourt, who is 
 in the constant habit of seeing your aunt ; I charged her to 
 endeavour to see you in private, so that she might enlighten you 
 as to the marriage which they wish you to contract, and might, at 
 the same time, entreat you to await the return of M. de Mortagne. 
 Your aunt, however, distrusted Madame de Mirecourt, knowing her 
 intimacy with me, and prevented her from seeing you alone. Then 
 I deplored, still more bitterly, the illness which kept me a prisoner 
 at home. Every day would, doubtless, increase your love for M. de 
 Lancry ; I longed to write to you, but I feared your aunt would 
 intercept the letter, and I was in despair, so deep an interest 
 do I feel in you, when I reflected that, perhaps, if warned in 
 time, you would not have pledged your affections ; I suffered 
 cruelly from this thought. But, alas ! Matilda, I see by your 
 coldness, that I cannot convince you, and influenced as you are, 
 by distrust, you persist in asking yourself what can be the motive 
 of the extreme interest which I profess to feel in your fate. 
 Good God ! must I repeat once more that in attempting to save 
 you, I am paying the debt of gratitude which I owe to M. de 
 Mortagne T 
 
 “ And you avenge yourself, at the same time upon M. de Lancry, 
 madame,” I replied with bitterness. 
 
 “ Avenge myself, Matilda !” the Duchess gently answered. “ Is 
 it absolutely necessary, then, that such should be the motive for 
 a feeling of affectionate compassion towards yourself 1 Is it not 
 sufficient to break my heart, when I see you, poor girl, young and 
 interesting as you are, abandoned and lost among all these wicked 
 egotists, to become at last a victim to your aunt’s hatred, and to 
 M. de Lancry ’s love of money T 
 
the: orphan. 
 
 135 
 
 cc This is too much, madame !” I exclaimed with all the violence 
 of insulted pride. “ Am I, then, after all, so destitute of beauty 
 and mental qualities, that M. de Lancry should only seek my 
 hand with a view to my fortune ? Because he has deceived you — - 
 odiously deceived you, I will allow — is it any reason that he should 
 not appreciate a heart which yields itself up to him with rapture ? 
 And who can say, madame, that you loved him, as he deserves to 
 be loved ? And who can say that any one of the women whom he 
 has so infamously deceived, has loved as I love him ? And who 
 can say, madame, that it is not because his soul is noble and great 
 in its feelings, that he knows how to measure all the vast interval 
 which separates a guilty connection from a love which is holy in 
 the eyes of God and man % By what right do you reproach him 
 with cowardice — you, who have erred so deeply ? By what 
 right — in a word, do you dare to compare a love like yours 
 to mine T 
 
 “ Oh ! my God — my God ! that I should be forced to hear 
 this,” said Madame de Richeville, burying her face in her hands 
 with an expression of pain and humility, which would have struck 
 me, had I been less indignant ; but, alas ! I could not restrain my 
 language ; and, oh ! how deeply do I now regret its injustice and 
 its cruelty ! Carried away by my desire to avenge Gontran, for 
 the calumnies of which I believed him to be the object, I con- 
 tinued — 
 
 “ You assert that M. de Lancry has squandered his fortune — 
 that he is a ruined man — so much the better, madame, and I am 
 doubly blessed in being able to offer him my own. You say he 
 has had recourse to the gaming-table — henceforth, being a wealthy 
 man, he need not recur to that fatal expedient. You think that 
 he is deceiving me, madame ; do not let this, I entreat you, 
 cause you any uneasiness ; envy and jealousy are often apt to 
 mistake their own wicked hopes, for a prophecy of the future. 
 True love is happier ; for, strong in its own devotion, and in its 
 own generosity it foresees with certainty the recompense which it 
 merits and obtains.” 
 
 Madame de Richeville raised her beautiful face, which, to my 
 great surprise, was bathed in tears, and bore evident marks of 
 extreme emotion. In spite of my indignation, I could not help 
 being touched at seeing a woman generally so proud and haughty, 
 listen with so much resignation to my reproaches. She took my 
 hand, which I had not the courage to withdraw, and said to me in 
 a tone of profound melancholy — 
 
 “ All is over, Matilda — there is no hope left — you are the 
 victim of that sophistry, which has ruined me — which has ruined 
 many women. I, too, when I loved M. de Lancry, said to myself, 
 
 ‘ Am I not more beautiful — more fascinating than my rivals ? 
 
136 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 They have been unable to fix or subdue that inconstant, haughty, 
 and contemptuous heart — that heart which makes a sport of the 
 most devoted feelings ; but I will succeed.’ Alas ! Matilda, I have 
 told you my disgrace, and how deeply I was outraged. And now, 
 believe not that I wish, for one moment, to compare myself to 
 you, or that I dream of possessing any superiority over the beauty 
 of your person, or the rare assemblage of qualities which distin- 
 guish your mind ; it i3 of that beauty, and of those qualities, 
 that I had formed a nearly accurate idea, and they it is, which 
 have rendered me still more intensely anxious to be of service to 
 the protegee of M. de Mortagne. Poor child, without measuring 
 the force of your words, you made me just now cruelly sensible 
 of the difference between such a love as I could offer to M. de 
 Lancrv, and that which you have bestowed upon him. You are 
 right, Matilda. If M. de Lancry were capable of being touched 
 by all the adorable goodness and devotion of your love for him, 
 you might hope to realize your dreams of happiness. But believe 
 me,” added the Duchess, lowering her voice, and fixing her eyes, 
 bathed in tears, upon my face, with a look which went to my very 
 heart — “ believe me, however guilty the passion, whoever the 
 woman that loves, and devotes herself with sincerity to him, no 
 man with a noble heart, and a generous disposition, will ever repay 
 her proofs of deep attachment by insults and cruelty. Such 
 conduct infallibly betrays a natural depravity. And yet, Matilda, 
 perhaps you are right, though you or I may not know it. Perhaps 
 you are destined to effect a complete change in M. de Lancry’s 
 disposition, and certainly if beauty, gracefulness, and the most 
 amiable — the most perfect qualities can perform such a miracle, 
 you will succeed. But, alas ! believe me, had I entertained the 
 slightest hope of such a conversion, I should have recoiled from this 
 attempt to shake the faith and trust you feel in his love, as from 
 a deadly crime. However, the future will decide ; farewell, Ma- 
 tilda, farewell ; some day, perhaps, you will know me better — some 
 day, perhaps, poor girl, you will say to me, in bitterness of spirit, 
 
 ‘ Why did I not listen to you V But, God knows I would rather 
 continue to be looked upon by your eyes as — what you, doubtless,, 
 think I am — a wicked and perfidious woman, than behold my 
 presentiments verified by your misery. Farewell, once more, and 
 for the last time, farewell — you will not wait till the arrival of M. 
 de Mortagne.” 
 
 “ Madame,” I replied, touched bv Madame de Richeville’s tears, 
 “ I implore you, let us put an end to this conversation. Some 
 words have escaped ; me, which I regret — deeply regret — but, at 
 least, let those words prove to you that the warmth with which 
 I have defended M. de Lancry, emanated from a heart which is his 
 for ever.” 
 
THE OKPHAN. 
 
 137 
 
 “ One word more, and I leave you,” said Madame de Richeville, 
 " what I am going to say, will not alter your determination in the 
 least degree ; but it is my duty not to conceal the projects which 
 M. de Mortagne had formed concerning you. Before his departure 
 for Italy, reflecting upon your future fate, he had, as I have told 
 you, hinted at a marriage between yourself and the son of one of 
 his best friends, M. Abel de Rochegune, who was then about twenty 
 years of age, and whose fortune was considerable. This young 
 man appeared in M. Mortagne’s eyes, a suitable match for you. 
 At this present time, M. de Rochegune, by his father’s death, who 
 was one of the most noble characters of the day, is the possessor 
 of immense wealth. He has just returned from his travels, all are 
 unanimous in extolling his talents and good qualities, and his 
 countenance, though not handsome, is exceedingly pleasing. He 
 saw you at the embassy, and was struck with your beauty, and 
 had it not been for the affectation with which Mademoiselle de 
 Maran proclaimed, beforehand, your approaching marriage with 
 M. de Lancry, M. de Rochegune would -have requested the honour 
 of being presented to you. Had M. de Mortagne been here, he 
 would have introduced his protege to you. Once more, Matilda, 
 I tell you this, to prove to you that your determination not to 
 postpone your marriage till the arrival of your only friend, will, 
 perhaps, be the more painful to him, from the views he entertains 
 of what he considers requisite for your future happiness.” 
 
 “ Were M. de Mortagne, madame — and I shall never forget his 
 kindness — here, in person, I should give him the same answer, that 
 I have made an honourable choice, and that no consideration 
 whatever, shall prevent my union with M. de Lancry,” I replied 
 with that inflexible obstinacy which is a characteristic of deep 
 and blind love, when that love is still more exalted by op- 
 position. 
 
 “ Farewell, then, Matilda !” said Madame de Richeville in a tone 
 of voice, which proved her to be deeply moved. “ Assure me that 
 you believe, at least, in the disinterestedness of the step I have 
 taken, and that will console me for having been unable to obtain 
 your confidence. Tell me — oh ! tell me that you will remember 
 me with kindness.” 
 
 I was about to reply, when Blondeau hastily entered the room, 
 and Madame de Richeville let her veil down. 
 
 “ Mademoiselle,” said Blondeau to me, “ Mademoiselle de Maran 
 wishes to see you down stairs.” 
 
 Madame de Richeville made me a modest curtsey, and left 
 the room. 
 
 I have now, my friend, acquired the certainty that Madame de 
 Richeville was not actuated by any odious motive in this conver- 
 sation. She really felt an affectionate compassion for me. Her 
 
138 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 gratitude towards M. de Mortagne, and the interest which my 
 situation inspired were the only motives of the step she had 
 taken. 
 
 You know, my friend, that the Duchess de Richeville unites, in 
 herself, the strongest contrasts. Half her life is spent in weeping 
 over the faults she has committed, and those tears are from the 
 bottom of her heart, and untinged by hypocrisy. Her exalted 
 station, and her haughty disposition, would render all dissimulation, 
 on her part, as useless, as, indeed, it is impossible. No, she is a 
 creature apart, powerful for evil as for good ; the hands of the 
 Almighty sent her forth pure, noble, and great ; but education, the 
 world, and the life which that world has imposed upon her, have 
 been much more active agents in inducing her to err, than any 
 evil disposition of her own. But she possesses such vigorous quali- 
 ties, her mind is so discerning, her judgment so superior, her 
 heart still so good, and her soul so noble, that lifting up herself at 
 times from the midst of her miserable recollections and her fervent 
 repentance, she casts a suppliant and despairing glance towards 
 heaven : a smile of bitterness and disdain upon earth. 
 
 Hereafter, my friend, I will tell you some admirable traits of 
 this woman, who had, doubtless, erred ; but who was always so 
 shamefully calumniated. I will tell you of her fearful marriage, 
 which alone, perhaps, precipitated her into that abyss whence she 
 at times emerges, purified by a painful expiation. 
 
 You may now conceive the bitter remorse which overwhelms 
 me when I remember the contemptuous harshness with which I 
 received her visit — a visit, dictated by a feeling of most touching 
 interest in my fate — dictated — I dare not yet say by a most 
 mournful prescience. 
 
 Scarcely had Madame de Richeville departed, when I obeyed 
 my aunt’s summons. 
 
 The first person I saw sitting close to her was Gontran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 EXCULPATIONS. 
 
 I could scarcely refrain from blushing with indignation when I 
 beheld M. de Lancry, and recalled the calumnies of which I believed 
 him to be the victim. 
 
 “ I have sent for you, Matilda,” said my aunt to me, ‘‘ because 
 Gontran here is worrying me out of my life with questions about 
 
T1IE ORPHAN. 
 
 139 
 
 the corbeille. He wants to know what is most to your taste, and 
 what dresses you wish for ; you can tell him all this much better 
 than I can ; pray settle about all these fine things yourselves. 
 Yonder are materials for writing.” 
 
 And she pointed to her desk ; for we happened to be in her 
 library. 
 
 Servien came in just at this minute, and said to his mis- 
 tress — 
 
 “ M. Bisson is in the drawing-room, mademoiselle.” 
 
 “ And you have left him there by himself ; he’ll break everything 
 to pieces !” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran ; and she made a 
 precipitate retreat, in order to prevent any fresh misdeeds on the 
 part of this scientific gentleman, who, after a period of banishment, 
 had been restored again to her good graces. 
 
 I was left alone with Gontran, and remained silent ; as I hesi- 
 tated whether to inform him of Madame de Kicheville’s visit, 
 Gontran said to me — 
 
 “ I am delighted at Mademoiselle de Maran’s departure, for I 
 wish to speak to you very seriously.” 
 
 “ About the corbeille ?” I asked with a smile. 
 
 “ No,” he replied with a grave, almost a melancholy look, which 
 went to my very heart. “ Yesterday I talked to you of the future, 
 of my prospects, and my feelings — you believed me ; you deigned 
 to entrust your happiness to my care, and you generously promised 
 to be mine. Yesterday I was so absorbed in rapture at my un- 
 hoped for good fortune, that I did not think of relating the past to 
 you ; and yet, the past is ever a security for the good or the evil 
 of the future. A scruple has just seized me. You are an orphan ; 
 your aunt is an intimate friend of my uncle, M. de Versac, and she 
 is greatly prejudiced in my favour. Whatever faults, or even vices, 
 might exist in me, neither she nor M. de Versac would warn you 
 of them — would they ? You have shewn yourself so true hearted — 
 so confiding to me, that your noble conduct imposes certain duties 
 upon myself. You are isolated, or surrounded by persons who are 
 attached to me, and who have, donbtless, represented me in the 
 most advantageous light possible to your eyes. It is my duty, 
 therefore, to enlighten you frankly as to my fanlts, and as to what 
 may have been blameable, or perhaps, even culpable in my past life. 
 This I will do, without exaggerating the evil ; but with a sincere 
 severity. Afterwards you must pronounce if I am still worthy of 
 you. At least if my evil fate should cause these revelations to 
 produce a decision unfavourable to me, if I thus lose the dearest 
 hope of my existence, I shall still have the consolation of having 
 acted as a man of honour.” 
 
 While M. de Lancry was thus addressing me, I felt touched with 
 surprise and emotion. Gontran, by a hazard that was almost 
 
140 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 miraculous, had, as it were, come half way to meet the reflections 
 which my interview with Madame de Riche ville had aroused in my 
 mind. 
 
 The instinct of his heart had urged him to justify himself, as 
 if he could have foreseen that he might be attacked. I was de- 
 lighted with his frankness, and I waited for his confession with 
 more curiosity than uneasiness. I felt, indeed, so completely re- 
 assured, that I said to him with a smile — 
 
 “ I am all attention ; but if it is a confession which I am to 
 hear, be careful — these are things to which I must not listen.” 
 
 “ I swear to you that nothing can be more serious,” replied 
 Gontran. “ When I now look back upon the past, and especially 
 when I am now able to compare the impressions of to-day with 
 those of bygone times, my life appears to me in a wholly different 
 light ; yes, certain thoughts which have existed but confusedly 
 hitherto, are now susceptible of a most clear explanation. I can 
 understand the kind of uneasiness, of painful impatience, which 
 invariably was at hand to tarnish or to break asunder those tran- 
 sitory connections, which I thought at first so fascinating. The 
 more I advanced in life, the more I discovered the hollowness and 
 bitter deception of those passions. I was seeking for happiness, 
 for tranquillity and rest of heart, and all I found was a painful 
 agitation. The women who had sacrificed their duties to me, after 
 a protracted struggle became a prey to remorse, which, often forced 
 me to curse my own guilty happiness, while I was speedily disgusted 
 by the assurance of those who had ceased to blush. And yet, I 
 would say to myself, ‘ there must be other happiness than this.’ 
 Hopeless of attaining the end to which every faculty of my soul 
 so imperiously aspired, I soon broke the idol which I had adored ; 
 I experienced a kind of unhallowed joy, in causing her to share 
 the bitterness in which my own soul was steeped, and I carried 
 this feeling, perhaps, even to cruelty. Must I accuse myself for 
 this ? I scarcely know. I ought rather, perhaps, to accuse that 
 ideal image which haunted my dreams. Yes ; for it was that 
 image which rendered me so unjust, so severe, for everything 
 which did not resemble it. Were you to ask the world about me* 
 Matilda, you would be told that in breaking off some connections, 
 I have shown myself to be selfish, contemptuous, and cruel. This 
 is true, also. I was dissatisfied with myself ; I was impatient to 
 escape from the fetters of a fictitious happiness, and I was eter- 
 nally seeking to grasp a felicity which eternally eluded me. The 
 simplest ideas are those which never occur to us, and I was far 
 from thinking that the unknown object, which I so eagerly and so 
 uneasily sought, was love in marriage. Nay, had any one at that 
 time given that interpretation to my desires, I should have smiled 
 and doubted. When, however, I saw you, Matilda, the bandage 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 141 
 
 fell from my eyes ; yes, when I saw yon, the past revealed the 
 future to me, and, in a word, the hitherto intangible object of my 
 vague desires put on an appearance of distinct reality in my sight ; 
 in despising those guilty attachments I rendered, if I may he al- 
 lowed the expression, homage to that pure and holy sentiment which 
 my heart invoked with all its instincts, and which you alone were 
 destined to make known to me.” 
 
 I was thunder-struck with admiration at hearing Gontran thus 
 explain his past life. By a singular coincidence, he called to his 
 defence those same sophistries which I had opposed to the denun- 
 ciations of Madame de Bicheville. 
 
 Gontran’s arguments could not fail to make a deep impression 
 upon me. What woman, already passionately in love, would not 
 blindly believe the man who says to her, “ I love you, and I will 
 love you the more fervently for the contempt and outrages I have 
 heaped upon everything which was not you” 
 
 Can there be a more dangerous paradox than this ? Is it not to 
 turn, with fatal adroitness, or rather with a profound knowledge of 
 the human heart — is it not to turn, all the perfidious treacheries 
 of which one has been guilty, into a kind of pedestal on which to 
 erect the fresh idol of one’s adoration ? Is not, lastly, that paradox 
 the more dangerous, when the woman who is thus deified, is con- 
 scious within herself of bearing not the least resemblance to the 
 women who are immolated at her shrine % Was not this my 
 position with regard to Gontran ? And yet, alas ! was it such a 
 guilty pride in me to believe that my devotion to, and my love for 
 him, were superior to every other love — to every other devotion 
 that he had ever met with 1 
 
 Gontran appeared to me to be so entirely exculpated from 
 Madame de Bicheville’s accusations, that I did not think it neces- 
 sary to mention my interview with the Duchess. I considered, 
 moreover, that she might have been induced to visit me from a 
 sincere feeling of interest in my fate, and besides she was a friend 
 of M. de Mortagne’s, which last reason would, in itself, have been 
 sufficient to insure silence on my part. 
 
 Gontran gazed at me with a look of uneasiness, being ignorant 
 of the effect which his words might have had upon me. I offered 
 him my hand, and said with a smile, “ Let us talk now about our 
 projects for the future.” 
 
 He shook his head in a melancholy manner, and said to me — 
 
 “ How good, how generous you are ! But I must not yet say 
 we, when I refer to you and myself, for I have more confessions to 
 make to you.” 
 
 “ Well, then — quick — tell me everything — come, what is it ; 
 You have been extravagant — have gambled — your fortune is in- 
 volved 1 Are these the formidable confessions which you have 
 
142 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 to make to me T And I added, with a smile — “ Now, do I not 
 talk to you like an indulgent old relation T 
 
 IC For heaven’s sake, Matilda,” replied Gontran, “ do not jest. 
 Well then, yes ; I have gambled, and for some time, gambled 
 madly ; yes, I sought in that pursuit for emotions which I could 
 find nowhere else. Disgusted at the effrontery of some amours — 
 terrified by the remorse which I had caused — having nothing to 
 attach me to existence — having no future to look to beyond the 
 morrow — feeling that my heart was deadened — blushing for myself 
 and others — loving nothing, and regretting nothing, I threw myself 
 headlong into the abyss of a gambler’s life. But I soon got weary 
 of the profitless excitements, the sordid hopes and fears of the 
 gaming-table. Playing, as I did, not for gain, but for self-oblivion, 
 I lost considerably, and my fortune suffered, which, indeed, had 
 already been impaired by the rather large expenditure I had been 
 forced to make, in order to keep up my rank in the Embassy, to 
 which I had been attached. Nevertheless, I still possess” — 
 
 “ Ah 1 not another word !” I exclaimed with a reproachful look. 
 “ Can you speak thus ! Do you believe that the thought of what 
 you might or might not possess, has occupied my mind for an 
 instant ? Nay, did you admit for an instant, the thought that the 
 gift which I wished to bestow upon my cousin, and which now 
 becomes useless, since she has been sacrificed, would diminish my 
 fortune by a moiety T 
 
 “ But still, Matilda” — 
 
 “ Let us talk about the corbeille ,” I said with a smile, “ or rather 
 about subjects of greater importance ; let us talk of our projects 
 for the future. Come, sir, have you ever thought of asking me 
 the part of Paris which I should like to inhabit, or of enquiring 
 in what taste I should prefer our habitation to be furnished and 
 arranged ?” 
 
 “ I wish I could see you more serious where matters of interest 
 are at stake, Matilda.” 
 
 “ You wish to see me serious ! Well, then” — and the tones of 
 my voice expressed the touching gratitude which I felt — “ well, 
 then, let me tell you how seriously happy I was when I found 
 yesterday, in my room, that basket of jessamines and heliotropes. 
 Oh ! believe me, this is more serious than any affairs of interest. 
 This is not a question of figures, but a question of feeling — an 
 omen — omen, did I say % No, I meant a certainty — of happiness 
 in the future. Yes, the heart reveals itself in the veriest trifles, 
 and the man who has shewn so much instinctive tenderness, so 
 much delicacy, on one occasion, can never hereafter belie himself. 
 Those flowers, which were the first token of your feelings, shall 
 always be regarded by me as the symbol of my happiness. Oh ! 
 I give you fair notice, you will find me very exacting. I insist 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 143 
 
 upon having a basket of these flowers every morning ; but I can 
 assure you that my heart is no sluggard ; it awakes early, and a 
 thought of you will have already preceded the arrival of the lovely 
 bouquet .” 
 
 “ On my knees — on my knees I must adore you, Matilda. Who 
 would not devote his whole existence to your happiness % I must, 
 indeed, be the most base of villains if I did not take God to wit- 
 ness that I will make you the happiest of women.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I believe you, Gontran. I have too much confidence in 
 my OAvn love not to put a blind faith in yours. Why should you 
 deceive me % With all your brilliant endowments, might you not 
 find a thousand other young girls, who would not, indeed, love 
 you better than I do — I defy them — but who, at least, would 
 possess more fascinating qualities than mine 1 I believe, then, 
 what you tell me, Gontran, because I know you to be true-hearted 
 and generous. All that you have just told me of your past life, 
 at the risk of my displeasure, at the risk, perhaps, of losing me, 
 is, in my eyes, an additional proof of your sincerity.” 
 
 The remainder of our conversation was a series of delightful projects 
 for the future. Our marriage was to take place as soon as the ne- 
 cessary formalities had been completed. The King was to sign 
 the contrat, and Gontran svas to take his Majesty’s directions on the 
 subject. We conversed with extreme pleasure about our future 
 arrangements, our house, and the seasons which we were to pass at 
 Paris, in travels, or in our country residence. Gontran mentioned, 
 as suitable for our establishment, a delightful hotel , situated in the 
 faubourg Saint Honore, and with a way out into the Champs 
 Elysees, and we agreed to go and look at it with Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. He requested me, also, to take lessons in riding, that we 
 might hereafter make long excursions into the country, and that I 
 might be able to be his companion in the sports of the field, to 
 which he was passionately addicted. We also discussed, as nearly 
 as we could, our probable expenditure, and Gontran, who had 
 always been extravagant himself, spoke to me very seriously on the 
 necessity of a rational economy. “ While a bachelor,” he said, 
 these economical ideas had never entered his mind ; but now he 
 perceived how requisite they were. 
 
 Nothing could be more enchanting than these projects, these 
 cheerful, yet serious anticipations of the future. My early youth 
 in Mademoiselle de Maran’s house had been so melancholy a one, 
 I had hitherto lived so completely like a little girl, that I could not 
 believe the happiness which awaited me. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Two or three days after this conversation, Gontran came one 
 morning to fetch Mademoiselle de Maran and myself, that we 
 might visit the hotel in the faubourg Saint Honors, of which he 
 
144 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 had previously spoken. After a few minutes’ conversation, Made- 
 moiselle de Maran said, referring to the house which M. de Lancry 
 was so desirous of obtaining. 
 
 “ By the bye, don’t you mean the hotel de Rochegune f ’ 
 
 “ Yes, madame,” replied Gontran, u it is a most excellent oppor- 
 tunity. The old Marquis de Rochegune died last year ; his son, 
 Abel de Rochegune, had made a great many improvements in the 
 house, intending to inhabit it himself ; but as he is very whimsical, 
 he suddenly changed his mind, and now wishes to dispose of the 
 place.” 
 
 “ He is one of the old breed,” said Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 “ for there never was a greater original, nor a more insupportable 
 old fellow than his farther. 
 
 “ Yet every body spoke of him almost with veneration, madame,” 
 said Gontran, looking astonished. 
 
 “ Pooh, pooh !” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran with an ironical 
 laugh, “ he was a kind of old idiot, a sort of philosopher, a visionary, 
 and a raving philanthropist into the bargain, always sticking his 
 nose into the prisons, and among the galley slaves where he kindly 
 allowed his pockets to be picked by messieurs the thieves, and 
 messieurs the cut-throats, whom he used to embrace most affec- 
 tionately, and call his brothers, God bless you ! a pleasant compli- 
 ment for his family. And what was still worse, the horrid man 
 would come fresh from all these fine Judas kisses, and in pursuance 
 of a disagreeable habit of his, would always be wanting to embrace 
 you under some trumpery pretext of friendship or cousinhood 
 fifty times removed, just as if you were one of his dear brothers, 
 the galley slaves.” 
 
 “ But, madame, they say he founded an alms-house for the poor, 
 on one of his estates.” 
 
 “ I know he did ; that was an additional abomination !” 
 
 “ How so, madame ?” said Gontran. 
 
 “ Why he founded it that he might have the right of tyrannising 
 over a heap of old vagabonds who were thus completely in his 
 subjection. No one can form an idea what that horrid man ima- 
 gined in order to torture the poor devils. To amuse himself be 
 used to make them eat wolves, rats, and bats ; he would beat them 
 to a mummy, and forced them to work at all kinds of things, 
 eighteen hours a-day, keeping for himself, of course, the profits of 
 their labour, so that this so called alms-house was, in fact, a kind 
 of farm, which brought him in a good deal of money, not to men- 
 tion his reputation for charity which served him for a cloak to 
 conceal all kinds of dirty actions. 
 
 Although I had no particular reason to interest myself about 
 M. de Rochegune’s memory, I felt indignant at my aunt’s spiteful ■ 
 observations ; a look of mine explained what I felt to Gontran, 
 who appeared to me to be as much disgusted as myself. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 145 
 
 “ I believe, madame,” he said to my aunt, “ you lmy« been incor- 
 rectly informed, and that — '’ 
 
 “ Not a bit of it ; I know what I say. He ought to have been 
 hanged, were one only to judge from his friends ; one of our re- 
 lations — on my sister-in-law’s side, thank God — a M. de Mortagne 
 was a disciple of his, and just such a scamp.” 
 
 “ M. de Mortagne ! — that old soldier of the Empire ! — that 
 traveller no less eccentric than indefatigable !” said Gontran, 
 “ why, I did not know he had the honour of being connected 
 with you.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes ; we have that honour — at least we had it.” 
 
 “ What, madame, is M. de Mortagne dead V asked Gontran. 
 
 “ Dead ! good God !” I exclaimed anxiously, taking Mademoiselle 
 de Maran’s hand. 
 
 My aunt gave me a harsh and ironical glance, and said with one 
 of her sharp, shrill laughs — 
 
 “ Ah ! ah ! ah ; just look at Matilda’s emotion. Well, then, 
 yes he is dead. Some days ago it Avas doubtful ; but it appears now 
 to be a certain fact.” 
 
 “ Ah ! madame, would that you may be deceived !” I said with 
 bitterness. 
 
 “ Deceived ! well then ! what great loss would it be if he were 
 dead — that fine hero of the guard -room ? Was he not a Jacobin, 
 one of those dangerous mischief-makers who, provided they can 
 make society go forward, as they say in their jargon, care little 
 whether it goes forward up to its knees in blood 
 
 “ Madame !” I exclaimed, “ I am but a woman, and think blit 
 little of political opinions ; but as long as I have no positive proof 
 of the misfortune which you speak of, I shall always look for M. de 
 Mortagne’s arrival with the impatience of a grateful heart, for he 
 was a friend of my mother’s, madame. When I shall be compelled 
 unhappily, to doubt his death no longer, I shall always entertain a 
 pious respect for his memory.” 
 
 “ Well, then, my dear, you may begin entertaining that fine 
 respect as soon as you like, I tell you ; but don’t let us talk about 
 that man any more ; dead or alive I detest him,” said Mademoiselle 
 de Maran in an imperious tone of voice, and she then continued 
 addressing herself to Gontran. 
 
 “ And what is this son of old Rochegune’s like ?” 
 
 “ Nobody knows much what to say about him, madame. He has 
 not been here long ; but he made a most remarkable speech — 
 though one by no means in a proper spirit — in the Chamber of 
 Peers. I have occasionally met him in society, where, however, he 
 rarely appears. In Spain he was the hero of some most wonderful 
 adventure, in which the terrible was blended with the romantic. 
 This exploit made a great deal of noise, and he really displayed 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 all the chivalrous discretion, and the heroic devotion of the old 
 Granada Moors ; he was left for dead, with I do not know how 
 many poniard wounds. Some womans reputation was at stake, 
 and — but — ” said Gontran with a smile, “ I cannot tell you this 
 before Mademoiselle Mathilde — I will tell the story some day to 
 Madame de Lancry.” 
 
 “ God bless my soul !” continued Mademoiselle de Maran, “ it is 
 a hero of romance then that we are going to see V’ 
 
 “ Almost, mademoiselle ; but I doubt our seeing him at all. He 
 appeared most readily at first to put himself at our disposal, in order 
 to show us his house ; but suddenly he seemed to change his 
 mind, saying he should, perhaps, be unable to do the honours 
 to us himself, and he then requested me to make his excuses 
 to you/’ 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE VISIT. 
 
 When I heard that we were going to call upon M. de Rochegune, 
 I was excessively annoyed at the thoughts of that intercourse which 
 might, perhaps, result from the visit, between himself and us. It 
 was of him that Madame de Richeville had spoken to me, when 
 sh!e said M. de Mortagne had wished to introduce him to me, in 
 the hopes that I might be induced to accept him for a husband. 
 I now reproached myself for my want of confidence in Gontran at 
 first, as, had I told him the conversation which had taken place 
 between myself and Madame de Richeville, I might have explained 
 to him the kind of aversion I felt at the idea of meeting M. de 
 Rochegune. When we arrived at the latter’s house, I was delighted 
 to hear that he was out ; for I should, doubtless, have felt embar- 
 rassed at seeing him. His major domo shewed us over the house, 
 and M. de Lancry seemed to be perfectly satisfied. The ground 
 floor, which was intended for reception rooms, was remarkable for 
 the exquisite taste and singular elegance of its arrangement. We 
 particularly noticed one apartment charmingly laid out ; but with 
 bare walls, and neither hangings nor wainscotting, which opened 
 one way into the garden, and another into a hot-house. 
 
 “ Why is this apartment the only one not fitted up ?” asked 
 Gontran. 
 
 “ Because the marquis, who had destined this apartment for his 
 intended bride, was desirous, doubtless, that she should fit it up 
 according to her own taste,” replied the major domo. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 147 
 
 “ M. de Rochegune was going to bo married, then ?” enquired M. 
 
 de Lancry. 
 
 “ Probably, monsieur le comte ; for this was the reason given 
 me by the architect, when I asked him why this apartment was to 
 remain in this state.” 
 
 “ Upon my word, then,” said Gontran to me, “ M. de Rochegune 
 has displayed great foresight, without meaning it. Do you not 
 think so ? I should be delighted if this apartment were to take 
 your fancy ; for then we would arrange it according to your 
 taste.” 
 
 e ' Certainly it is a delightful room,” I replied to M. de Lancry, 
 and I could not help blushing. 
 
 While Gontran was attentively examining all the rooms, Madame 
 de Richeville’s words recurred to my remembrance, and when M. 
 de Rochegune’s major domo spoke of the marriage his master was 
 to have contracted, I reflected that I, perhaps, had been the intended 
 bride. We went up to the first floor, and when we had arrived at 
 a waiting-room, the major domo perceived that he had forgotten 
 the key of a room which was used as a library, and went down to 
 fetch it. Giving way to an impulse of pure curiosity, Gontran and 
 ourselves entered a small gallery of modern pictures ; at the end of 
 this gallery was a double door of red velvet. One of the leaves of 
 this door was open, and allowed us to perceive another door, which 
 was closed. While examining the pictures, we had gradually drawn 
 near to this door, and Gontran made a movement of surprise, 
 saying — 
 
 “ There is some one there ; I hear voices. I thought M. de 
 Rochegune was out.” 
 
 Scarcely had M. de Lancry said these words, when some one 
 in the next room said, in a voice that had almost an imploring 
 tone — 
 
 “ I entreat you, sir, to be silent ! We might be heard ! There 
 are visiters in the house, and I desired that it might be said I was 
 not at home.” 
 
 a Why, that is M. de Rochegune’s voice !” said Gontran. 
 
 “ Upon my word this is becoming excessively piquant,” observed 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, “ we are on the eve of discovering some 
 frightful secret ; I’ll be bound to say the son is no better than 
 the father.” 
 
 “ Let us retire,” I said earnestly to M. de Lancry. 
 
 We had not time to do so. Another voice exclaimed in reply to 
 M. de Rochegune — 
 
 “ There is some one there — is there % Well, then, so much the 
 better ; all I desire is to be heard. Blessings on the kind hazard 
 which sends me sqpie witnesses.'’ 
 
 “ Now, you’ll see the fuss is about some sum of money which 
 
 L 3 
 
148 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 was confided to old Rochegune, in his quality of a virtuous philan- 
 thropist, and the son is denying the deposit with all his might 
 and main,” said Mademoiselle de Maran, drawing near to the door. 
 
 “ Sir — once more — I implore you,” said M. de Rochegune, “ what 
 arc you going to do V' 
 
 At this instant the door was violently opened, a man came out 
 and exclaimed when he saw us — 
 
 “ God be praised, there is somebody there !” 
 
 Mow great was my astonishment ! I recognized M. Duval, whom 
 Gontran had pointed out to us at the Opera, when he related the 
 touching conduct of that young man to an old blind mother, from 
 whom by dint of labour, he had concealed his ruin. The other 
 person was M. de Rochegune, whom I had seen in Madame de 
 Richeville’s box ; he was very tall and of an extremely swarthy 
 complexion. What struck me most, in his physionomy was the 
 stern and melancnoly expression of his grey eyes. Gontran made 
 a thousand excuses to M. de Rochegune for our involuntary in- 
 discretion. 
 
 “ Oh sir ! oh ladies !” exclaimed M. Duval with extreme excite- 
 ment of manner, and addressing himself to us, “ heaven itself has 
 sent you here ! at least I shall be able to testify all the gratitude I 
 feel towards my benefactor.” 
 
 “Sir, I implore you,” said M. de Rochegune with embarrass- 
 ment. I loooked at my aunt, her features had hitherto worn an 
 expression of sarcastic triumph, but she appeared annoyed at the 
 last words which had passed, and hastily sate down in an arm chair, 
 smiling ironically as she did so. 
 
 “ Sir,” continued M. de Rochegune, addressing himself to M. 
 Duval — “ I formally and urgently request that you will be silent.” 
 
 “ Silent P exclaimed M. Duval, in an explosion of gratitude 
 that was almost furious, “ silent ! no — no — sir, such deeds do too 
 much honour to human nature, not to be loudly proclamed.” 
 
 “ Madame,” said M. de Rochegime to my aunt, “ I am really 
 quite confused — I had desired that no one should be admitted 
 into the house bnt your party ; I had intended to remain in my 
 study, so as not to interfere with your visit to this house, 
 and — ” 
 
 “ And I entered in spite of your orders P exclaimed M. Duval, 
 “ a secret presentiment assured me that you were at home, sir, I 
 had heard that you were expected to set off on some voyage almost 
 immediately ; it was only yesterday I discovered, that to you, I was 
 indebted for almost the the very existence of my poor old mother, 
 it was absolutely necessary that I should see you — ” 
 
 “ Sir ! sir !” again interrupted M. de Rochegune. 
 
 “ Oh sir, you are not to confer benefits, and hide yourself after 
 having done so,” exclaimed M. Duval in his generous anger. 
 
THIi ORPHAN. 
 
 149 
 
 Fortunately these ladies are hero, and they shall judge between 
 us. I had been ruined by a bankruptcy.. Till then 1 had lived 
 in ease, and the blow was a terrible one to me ; not so much 
 for my own sake, not perhaps so much for my wife’s as for my 
 poor mother’s sake, my poor mother who was aged and blind. It 
 was necessary, madame, before all things necessary, that this misfor- 
 tune should be concealed from her. By dint of labour, my wife 
 and myself succeeded in doing so for some time, but at last our 
 strength grew exhausted, and my dear wife became ill, we 
 were about to die perhaps under our burden, when one day I 
 received under cover a hundred thousand francs, a hundred 
 thousand francs, madame, with a letter which informed me 
 that it was a partial restitution from the bankrupt, by whose 
 failure I had lost four hundred thousand francs — you may conceive 
 my joy, my happiness ; henceforth my wife, my mother, would 
 be beyond the reach of want. To us who had now grown ac- 
 customed to labour, which even this God-send did not induce 
 us to interrupt, the sum was almost a fortune. I mentioned 
 everywhere that I was in lebted for this unhoped for assistance to 
 the repentance of the villain who had reduced us to beggary. 
 Some persons who were acquainted with the man, doubted 
 the story, and they were right in doing so, for the Marquis 
 de Rochegune whom you see here, was the sole author of that 
 generous action.” 
 
 “Once more, sir, I implore you to be silent, you are abusing 
 the patience of these ladies,” said M. de Rochegune impatiently. 
 
 “ Come, sir, let’s get to the pith of the story,” said Made- 
 moiselle de Maran with a harsh voice, and twisting about in 
 her arm chair with a movement of displeasure. 
 
 “ Sir,” gaily exclaimed Gontran, taking M. Duval’s hand, “ we 
 are all leagued against M. de Rochegune, and in spite of all 
 his protestations, and though we are in his house, we will not 
 go away till you have told us everything.” 
 
 “ That’s right, sir,” said M. Duval, “ I see you are worthy 
 of appreciating such actions. Being uneasy at not knowing the 
 source of this generous assistance, I read the letter again, but 
 the hand writing was unknown to me ; has not Providence 
 itself come to my aid ? One of my friends who resides 
 in the country, and who will soon be at Paris, M. Eloi 
 Secherin, requested me to procure for him a servant who had 
 lived in a good family.” 
 
 “ Ursula’s husband !” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ Is Madame acquainted then with M. Sdcherin ?” said M. Duval 
 to me, with a look of astonishment. 
 
 “ For heaven’s sake go on, my dear sir,” said Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. 
 
THE OKPHAIn. 
 
 150 
 
 “ Well then, yesterday/’ continued M. Duval, “ a servant came 
 to me, I asked him for a character, he shewed me several, the last 
 had been given him by the Marquis de Rochegune, on opening it 
 I was struck with the hand writing, I ran to fetch the letter I had 
 received, the thing was perfectly clear, sir ! the hand writing was 
 the same — precisely the same, you could not mistake it. It would 
 be impossible to describe my joy, my emotion. I asked the servant 
 several particulars about his master. ‘ Ah, sir,’ he replied, ‘ there 
 never was a better or a more charitable one, he is the very image of 
 his father, who did so much good.’ And why are you going to 
 leave him then ? I asked. ‘ Alas ! sir, the Marquis is about to set 
 oil for a long voyage, and he only retains two old servants, who are 
 to accompany him.’ Doubt w r as now out of the question : I told 
 my wife everything. I came here yesterday, M. de Rochegune was 
 out, I came back in the evening, but he had not returned. At last, 
 this morning, after another vain attempt to see him ; and fearing 
 his departure, I came up here in spite of the porter, and was thus 
 enabled to press my benefactor’s hands. Oh ! he wanted to deny 
 it all at first, but he is too great a novice in falsehood for that.” 
 
 “ Sir,” said M. de Rochegune, whose embarrassment increased. 
 
 “ Yes, sir,” exclaimed M. Duval, “ you are a novice in falsehood 
 — I tell you your inventions are pitiable ; and when in order to 
 put you to confusion, I proposed that you should write for me pre- 
 cisely the same letter as that which I had received with the hun- 
 dred thousand francs, you dared not do it, sir, for that would have 
 been an unerring proof, answer that if you can. This then, 
 Madame, is what the Marquis has done for me — This is what I am 
 proud to accept, not as a gift but as a loan, for I rely upon my 
 labours for the means of repaying it. This is the good and generous 
 action which I will relate everywhere, but I am not the less pleased, 
 nevertheless, at having once at all events convicted the Marquis of 
 his munificent action before witnesses, perhaps he will not dare to 
 deny it now.” 
 
 “ Yes, sir, I shall deny it, for it concerns me that the real bene- 
 factor should be known. Delightful as is your gratitude to me, I 
 must not accept it, for in acting as I have done, I have only obeyed 
 the last wishes of my father,” said M. de Rochegune, in a voice full 
 of melancholy and emotion. 
 
 “ Y our father, sir ?” exclaimed M. Duval. 
 
 “ Yes, sir ! — I repeat it — I only executed his last wishes.” 
 
 “ But, sir, I had not the honour of your father’s acquaintance, 
 and you lost him long before the time when you so generously came 
 to my assistance.” 
 
 “ A few words, sir, will explain what I have said. My father, 
 in his youth, had placed a small sum of money in one of those clubs 
 which are instituted to benefit the last survivor. Shortly before his 
 
TIIE ORPHAN - . 
 
 151 
 
 death he received about three hundred thousand francs, which pro- 
 ceeded from that source. A scruple on his part, and one of which 
 I can well appreciate all the delicacy, hindered him from availing 
 himself of a sum for which he was indebted to the successive deaths 
 of several of his fellow creatures, and accordingly he put this sum 
 aside to be employed in works of charity. During his life he em- 
 ployed a considerable portion of it in this manner ; and when I 
 had the misfortune to lose him, he instructed me to use the rest of 
 the money for the same purpose. I happened to hear, sir, with 
 what a pious energy you had for two years struggled against an 
 adverse fate — I heard how admirable had been your conduct to- 
 wards your mother, and therefore, sir, as you may see yourself, I 
 have only obeyed the last directions of my father. I had believed 
 that this would remain a secret like so many other of my father’s 
 generous actions : chance, however, has ordained it otherwise, and 
 I will own that this gives me the less regret now that I have formed 
 a personal acquaintance with him, whose courageous devotion had 
 so much struck me — ” 
 
 And so saying, M. de Rochegune took M. Duval’s hand with 
 cordiality, — I felt a delicious emotion. I recollected with what a 
 touching gracefulness M. de Lancry had told me at the opera the 
 story of M. Duval, and thus the remembrance of Gontran was 
 charmingly mixed up with all the great and noble reflections that 
 this scene inspired in my heart. I gazed at Gontran with tender- 
 ness, and he seemed to me to partake in the admiration with 
 which I had been inspired, both by the benefactor and the object 
 of his bounty. Mademoiselle de Maran had, during this time, 
 smiled more than once in a satirical manner. I recognized her 
 usual maliciousness in the picture she had drawn of M. de Roche- 
 gune, who had been one of the most remarkable and respected men of 
 his time, and who had rendered himself illustrious by numberless 
 acts of enlightened philanthropy, and by works which bore the 
 stamp of the greatest and noblest intellect. 
 
 “ Sir,” said Gontran to M. de Rochegune, in a most amiable 
 manner, “ I am rejoiced at the chance which has put it in my 
 power to become acquainted with what I had already been in- 
 formed of by the world’s report : namely that in certain privileged 
 families (and yours, sir, is one of the number) the noblest qualities 
 are hereditary.” Then addressing himself to M. Duval, he added — 
 “ Two months ago, sir, at the opera, I had the honour of relating 
 to these ladies your noble conduct, with all the enthusiasm which 
 it naturally inspired, but I did not hope to be one day fortunate 
 enough to tell you yourself in person all the admiration which you 
 so well deserve.” 
 
 “ It was at the Siege of Corinth, was it not, sir V’ said M. Duval, 
 with simplicity, one night, when Madame the Duchesse de Berry 
 
Tin: ORPHAN. 
 
 \02 
 
 was at the opera, I recollect it very well. It was the first time for 
 two years that myself and my wife had been in a theatre, and it 
 was quite a gala night for us.” 
 
 “ We even remarked, sir, Madame Duval’s beret,” said Mademoi- 
 selle de Mayan, “ it became her amazingly, she looked as pretty as 
 an angel, and had not, I assure you, the least appearance of a 
 person compelled to labour for her bread.” 
 
 “ Perhaps you think, Madame, my wife was dressed with too 
 much elegance for our station,” said M. Duval, with an air of 
 wounded pride. “ But then , Madame, I thought that the sum of 
 money had been merely a restitution, but since I know that it is a 
 loan, believe me I shall abstain from everything in the slightest 
 degree superfluous.” 
 
 Grontran, who like myself, was much distressed at Mademoiselle 
 de Maran’s malicious remark, said to M. de Rocheguue, in order, 
 doubtless, to change the subject of conversation — 
 
 “ By the bye, I had also the pleasure of seeing you, M. de Roche- 
 gune, that same night, and I .vas far from suspecting that you were 
 that mysterious benefactor of whom I was conversing with these 
 ladies. 
 
 Yes, I believe I was at the opera that evening, with the 
 Duchess de Richeville,” replied M. de Rochegune, with an air of 
 embarrassment. 
 
 I happened at this instant to look up at him, his eyes met mine, 
 and he immediately turned them away. 
 
 “ Sir,” said Mademoiselle de Maran to M. de Rochegune, with a 
 look of good nature, which fore-warned me that something 
 treacherous was coming, “ nothing that we see or hear can astonish 
 us, your worthy father had long rendered it a usual thing for every- 
 body to admire his good deeds.” 
 
 “ Madame,” said M. de Rochegune, bowing as he spoke, with a 
 kind of painful impatience, whether it was that he disliked made- 
 moiselle de Maran. or that his modesty suffered from the con- 
 tinuance of this scene. 
 
 “ Excuse me, sir, he was really an admirable man,” continued 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. “ It was only just now I was telling my 
 niece, that nothing could be more touching than his visits to the 
 prisons, and that the kindness? with which he treated the 
 pauper inhabitants of his alms-house, was quite in a St. Vincent de 
 Paule fashion, or something very like it.” 
 
 “ My father, Madame, was merely a good man,” said M. de 
 Rochegune, in a firm and severe tone of voice, which proved that 
 he was not the dupe of Mademoiselle de Maran’s ironical praises. 
 I was pleased to see by the expression of annoyance in Gontran’s 
 countenance, that he, like myself, was pained at my aunt’s language. 
 But Mademoiselle de Maran’s disposition was a too haughty one 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 163 
 
 ever to give way, and she always insisted, to employ a vulgar ex- 
 pression, upon having the last word, Accordingly, taking the arm 
 of M. de Lancry, she said to M. de Rochegune : 
 
 “ Good bye, sir, it don’t signify what you say, a merely 
 good man would never have accomplished that miraculous per- 
 formance of the tontine !* Yes, sir, that scrupulously chivalrous 
 tontine piece of business, would be sufficient in itself to make 
 a whole family illustrious. A hundred thousand ecus given 
 away in alms ! God bless my soul ! in former times it as 
 only the greatest sinners who indulged themselves in such liber- 
 alities — by way of honourable compensation for their former 
 sins probably.” 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, sir,” said Gontran, hastily interrupting 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, “ these ladies have some visits to make, 
 and if you will allow me, I will return at some other time to 
 look at the house.” 
 
 “ The house is quite at your orders, sir,” said M. de Roche- 
 gune coldly bowing, and scarcely able to restrain the indig- 
 nation, which my aunt’s last words had caused him. 
 
 When we were once more seated in the carriage, I could 
 not help saying to Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ Ah, madame, how cruelly you behaved !” 
 
 “ What do you mean with your ‘ cruelly V ” she exclaimed 
 with a loud laugh. “ Don’t talk such nonsense — Do you fancy 
 I believe in all that farce ?” 
 
 “What farce?” 
 
 “ What farce indeed ! why the whole scene was arranged and 
 got up in expectation of our coming. It is clear enough that 
 that fool Duval was told to come, and kept in readiness to 
 utter those touching exclamations of gratitude, and accordingly 
 he began to chatter away like a magpie, as soon as he knew we 
 were near the door. That old rascal of an intendant doubt- 
 lessly went to give him due notice, under the pretence of 
 looking for the key of the library.” 
 
 “ Ah ; madame, what an idea !” said Gontran, “ and what 
 possible motive could there have been for this V * 
 
 “Why, my poor fellow, it is a very simple calculation ; in 
 the first place, if M. de Rochegune asks you for twenty or 
 thirty thousand francs too much for his house, you will never have 
 the face to haggle with a man who is capable of such noble 
 actions; not to mention that the very fact of inhabiting a 
 
 * This is the name by which those clubs are known, to one of which, thti 
 father of M. de Rochegune had been indebted for the sum which he wished 
 to employ in acts of charity.— Authou’s Note. 
 
154 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 house which has witnessed such noble deeds, is sure to bring 
 you good luck, and is worth all the money in itself. I 
 would wager that old Rochegune did still more wonderful things, 
 in order to establish his fine philanthropy, so that he might, 
 I am certain, under that cloak, dabble in all kinds of abomi- 
 nable usuries. They say he used to lend small sums of money 
 at exorbitant interest, and I am inclined to believe it, for he died 
 worth millions ! The proof of what I assert is that people with 
 clear consciences don’t give away a hundred thousand ecus in 
 charity. The curate of my parish at Glatigny, who was no fool, 
 always used to say. “It is only great sinners who give much 
 to the poor I” — Upon my word, a hundred thousand ecus in 
 charity ! that must have been the devil's share, as simple folks 
 say, or, if you prefer, it, the sinking of a capital which had 
 been acquired by all sorts of rascallity.” 
 
 “ But madame,” impatiently said Gontran, “ at least you must 
 own, that this benefaction whatever might be the source of the 
 money, could not have been better placed.” 
 
 “ Certainly, certainly, little Madame Duval was an uncommonly 
 nice woman, upon my word she was, with her rose coloured 
 beret. M. de Rochegune was probably of the same opinion, and 
 the hundred thousand francs were payed by him for the droit 
 du seigneur — and then the fool of a husband comes to thank 
 him in the bargain !” 
 
 “ Ah, madame ! what a disgraceful idea !” exclaimed Gon- 
 tran — “ Besides M. de Rochegune is going away in a few 
 days.” 
 
 “ Well, and what then if he is going away ? it only proves 
 he is tired of the little woman,” said Mademoiselle de Maran 
 with a loud laugh. 
 
 “ Madame, madame !” said M. de Lancry with a look at me, 
 in order to make my aunt feel the impropriety of such con- 
 versation. 
 
 I could not describe to you, my friend, the desolating im- 
 pression left upon my mind, when j heard Mademoiselle de 
 Maran so wickedly scandalize, all that my heart had just 
 been admiring, never had she more odiously betrayed her horror 
 and detestation of all that was either physically or morally 
 beautiful. At this fresh proof of my aunt’s implacable mali- 
 ciousness, my thoughts fell back upon myself and my own 
 position. My distrust of Mademoiselle de Maran became more 
 lively than ever, and yet my blind confidence in Gontran 
 ■"was not in the slightest degree diminished. I could not help 
 remembering what Madame de Riche ville had said to me ‘ Beware 
 > of this marriage. lie is protected by your aunt, he must there - 
 fore be fatal to you !’ — I perceived also that the duchess had 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 155 
 
 not deceived me, in her description of the qualities of M. de 
 Rochegune, whom M. de Mortagne had wished me to marry. 
 I confess that I was troubled for an instant, by the seeming 
 seriousness of these reflections, and, if I may say so, my heart 
 trembled when it perceived that my mind was embarrassed how 
 to answer them. I instinctively looked at Gontran, and the 
 sight of his noble, gentle and honour-breathing countenance 
 re-assured me. It is not mademoiselle de Maran, I said to 
 myself, it is my own heart which has brought about this mar- 
 riage ; and after all, because M. de Rochegime possesses many 
 noble qualities, is it a reason that Gontran should possess none ? 
 Was it not Gontran who first related to me that touching 
 action which was so nobly recompensed 'i Even just now, did 
 he not share in my emotion 'l These reflections banished the 
 painful impressions to which my aunt’s perfidious words had 
 given rise. When we alighted from the carriage, one of Ma- 
 demoiselle de Maran’s servants told her that ‘ Mademoiselle 
 Ursule, that is to say Madame Secherin ,' — he added correcting 
 himself, — was waiting in the drawing room with her husband. 
 My cousin was arrived then ! forgetting Gontran and my aunt, 
 I mounted the staircase with impatient steps, and hastily opened 
 the drawing-room door. It was Ursula indeed — Ursula and her 
 husband. 
 
 0 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 M. ET MADAME SECHERIN. 
 
 “ Ursula !” 
 
 Matilda !” 
 
 We embraced each other enthusiastically. I had expected to 
 find my poor cousin frightfully altered ; but to my great astonish- 
 ment she looked fresher and prettier than ever, although the ex- 
 pression of her eyes was still a melancholy one, and there was a 
 tinge of sadness in her smile. She introduced me to M. Secherin, 
 a young man of middle sized stature, with a full and ruddy coun- 
 tenance, the expression of which was decidedly vulgar, though it 
 denoted, at the same time, good humour and frankness. He struck 
 me at first as being one of those men, the want of distinction in 
 whose figure and language we are induced to excuse, by the open- 
 ness and unaffected good nature of their manners. Nevertheless, 
 I should never have imagined that my cousin, with all those girlish 
 
156 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 ideas which we used to discuss together, could resign herself to such 
 a marriage. When I looked at M. Seeherin, the sacrifice which 
 Ursula asserted she had made, appeared a still greater one in my 
 eyes. I felt a deep compassion for her fate, in having been com- 
 pelled to submit to the imperious determination of her father. 1 
 pressed Ursula’s hand, as I embraced her ; she understood me, re- 
 returned the pressure, and cast her eyes up to heaven. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran now made her appearance with M. de 
 Lancry. Ursula gave me a look which pierced my heart ; she was 
 comparing her husband to Gontran. My cousin introduced M. 
 Seeherin to my aunt, and I expected Mademoiselle de Maran 
 would give full play to her sarcastic disposition. To my great 
 surprise, this was not the case at first ; Mademoiselle de Maran put 
 on her “ good sort of a woman ” manner, and said with the utmost 
 affability to M. Seeherin, in order, no doubt, to put him at 
 his ease — 
 
 “ Well,- sir, so you are going to make Ursula the happiest 
 woman in the world ? You are determined, thon, that she shall 
 forget all of us, who love her so well % Do you know, Monsieur 
 Seeherin, that I, at least, shall become qui'.e jealous of you ? Yes, 
 I most certainly shall ; and I must first warn you of one thing, 
 which is, that here we are all accustomed to speak with the greatest, 
 frankness in the world ; we form quite a cosy kind oi family party, 
 and you will know us as well in half an hour, as if we had passed 
 our whole lives together. As for me, I am a good sort of old 
 woman, perpetually harping upon one string ; my adoration for 
 these two children, Matilda and Ursula, therefore, you may make 
 up your mind to my tongue’s continually going, when they are con- 
 cerned ; moreover, I am prone to grumbling, sulking, and all kinds 
 of fantastical and crotchetty whims, because it is the privilege of 
 old age to be so. And yet I do not know how it is, Monsieur 
 Seeherin, but in spite of all this, people always end by liking 
 me a little.” 
 
 M. Seeherin was a complete dupe to this pretended good nature. 
 
 I observed, upon his frank and cordial countenance, the growing 
 confidence which my aunt’s words inspired ; his constraint and. 
 embarrassment vanished as if by magic, and he joyously ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 “ Upon my word, madame, if you will believe me, I do not think 
 people love you a little ; for my part, I am sure they must love 
 you a great deal. If I must needs be frank, I will confess that 
 I was deucedly afraid of you ; but your reception immediately re- 
 assured me.” 
 
 “ Dear me ! afraid of me, my excellent Monsieur Seeherin 1 
 What in the name of heaven could have put such a thing into your 
 head !” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 15 ; 
 
 Ursula made sign after sign to her husband ; but all in vain, for 
 hey were not perceived by him. 
 
 “ Certainly, madame, I was afraid of you,” continued M. Secherin 
 ;vith still greater confidence, “ and well I might be.” 
 
 “ God bless my soul ! Monsieur Secherin, you quite con- 
 fuse me.” 
 
 “ Why, madame, my father-in-law, M. D’Orbeval, was incessantly 
 dinning into my ears ‘ Pray be careful, son-in-law ! Mademoiselle de 
 Maran is a great personage ! If you were unfortunate enough to 
 displease her, it would be all up with you, for she is twenty times 
 more clever than you are, and she knows how to use her cleverness 
 too, I can tell you.’ Well, madame, do you know what answer I 
 should make to my father-in-law now ? For I can assure you it 
 does not take me long to measure my customers — ” 
 
 Ursula’s face was covered with blushes at hearing these vulgar 
 expressions, and Gontran concealed a smile. Mademoiselle de 
 Maran said, however, to Ursula’s husband, in a tone incredibly good 
 humoured — 
 
 “ My dear Monsieur Secherin, we have promised each other to be 
 frank — haven’t we ?” 
 
 “ Yes, madame.” 
 
 “ Well, then, it is not usual, even when alluding to an old woman 
 like me, to talk of ‘ measuring one's customers' It is, decidedly 
 bad taste ! Oh, I will not spare you a bit at first ! I give you 
 fair notice. That is my way.” 
 
 u Believe me, madame \' c exclaimed M. Secherin with an expres- 
 sion of gratitude, that was really touching, what you are doing 
 now is an act of perfect generosity ! I thank you for it, from the 
 bottom of my heart. Other people would have laughed at me— 
 you, on the contrary, have the kindness to correct me when I am 
 wrong. How can I help it, madame ; I am nothing but a poor rustic, 
 but little accustomed to the fine manners of the capital.” 
 
 “ Of Paris — Monsieur Secherin — of Paris ; people don’t call it 
 ‘ the capital,’ continued Mademoiselle de Maran with an imper- 
 turbable air of seriousness. 
 
 “ Don’t they, indeed, madame ? Dear me, that is curious. And 
 yet our procureur du roi and our sous-prefet always say the 
 capital'' 
 
 “ Very possibly ; the expresion is used magisterially and 
 geographically,” continued Mademoiselle de Maran, “ but never else. 
 You see, my poor Monsieur Secherin, that I am quite inexorable.” 
 
 “ Go on, go on, madame, pray go on ; I never forget what I 
 have once been told. Well, then, madame, if I had to describe 
 you to my father-in-law now I should say to him, 1 Mademoiselle de 
 Maran is, doubtless, a great personage, from her position in society ; 
 
158 
 
 THE ORPHi^. 
 
 but she is a good, worthy little sort of woman at bottom, quite free 
 and easy, and as pleasant and open as a fine day — a woman, in 
 short, who wears her heart pinned upon her sleeve, and whose 
 kindness, perhaps, exceeds even her wit. Now, then, tell me, am 
 I mistaken V 
 
 “ God bless me, my dear Monsieur Secherin, Lavater was a joke 
 to you ; you are quite a Nostradamus — a second Cagliostro in 
 foresight and infallibility ! There, I am so delighted with the por- 
 trait you have drawn of myself, that I will even pass over some 
 expressions you have used.” 
 
 “ Oh ! pray don’t madame, pray don’t pass them over by any 
 means ; if you do, I give you fair warning, I shall be very angry, 
 indeed.” 
 
 “ Oh ! pray don’t Monsieur Secherin, pray don’t, I entreat 
 you,” 
 
 “ Madame, I repeat I shall be very angry if you do not 
 correct me.” 
 
 “ Well, then, if you absolutely insist upon it, and in order not 
 to disturb the touching harmony which exists between us, I will 
 just beg you to remark that free and easy, and a heart pinned upon 
 a sleeve, are a leetle vulgar.” 
 
 “ Come, then, I will take it for granted, and never say so again. 
 God bless my soul, madame, how good natured you are ! After 
 all, you know I am a good sort of fellow enough ; you must have 
 guessed as much at first sight.” 
 
 “ Certainly, I saw at first sight what you were, my good 
 Monsieur Secherin ; you seem to me to be the very best creature 
 in the world, and I really do not think there is a drop of gall 
 in your composition.” 
 
 “ Gall in me ! no, not more than there is in a pigeon. All I 
 am deficient in is education ; I am well aware of that ; but how 
 can it be helped h I was brought up in the country, and my 
 father traded on a very small scale ; he laid the foundation of 
 his fortune by buying up the property of emigrants.” 
 
 “ If he started in business of that description your worthy pro- 
 genitor could not help getting on in the world,” said Mademoi- 
 selle de Maran. 
 
 “ It happened just so madame.” 
 
 “No doubt ; pray go on, Monsieur Secherin.” 
 
 “ As for my mother,” continued Mademoiselle de Maran’s un- 
 fortunate victim, “as for my mother, she is the best woman in 
 the world, but she will keep wearing her old fashioned round 
 cap and short gown ; she is a housekeeper in the true accepta- 
 tion of the word, so you may guess that I Avas not brought up 
 like a Duke. I pottered through a course of study at the 
 college of Tours, and at my father’s death I undertook the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 159 
 
 management of Ms fortune. I found in his old black fir desk 
 an inventory of sixty three thousand seven hundred livres a 
 year in lands and farms, and all this, madame, free from taxes, 
 without reckoning* the appurtenances and stock of two factories 
 where I employ five hundred workmen, whose united labour is 
 insufficient to supply the demand. That is the state of things 
 with me, madame.” 
 
 “ Upon my word your position is a magnificent one, M. 
 Secherin ? But we need not be surprised at that, honest people 
 always prosper, and I am sure that your worthy father was 
 indebted for his increased prosperity, to his buying up the 
 property of those poor devils of emigrants.” 
 
 “ Madame,” said Ursula who was on thorns all this time — 
 
 “ I am afraid these details — ” 
 
 “ Nonsense, Ursula, on the contrary, my dear child, they 
 interest me excessively.” 
 
 “No doubt, my little darling , all these business matters of 
 mine cannot fail to interest this good aunt of yours infinitely.” 
 
 “ Monsieur Sdcherin, in pursuance of my system of frankness,” 
 said Mademoiselle de Maran, “ I will take the liberty of remark- 
 ing, that little darling should be reserved for the hours of your 
 sweetest and most private intimacy — you profane the mysterious 
 charm of such adorable expressions, by thus lavishing them in 
 public.” 
 
 “ And yet, madame, my father always used to call my mother 
 his little darling , and my mother used to call him her little papa, 
 or else her great duck.” 
 
 “ But my good Monsieur Secherin, pray understand that I do 
 not object to such tender and sweetly simple expressions — as little 
 darling, little papa, or even great duck , themselves, quite the con- 
 trary, I can assure you ! I am sure I hope that Ursula, with due 
 fidelity to the touching traditions of your family, lavishes these de- 
 lightful names upon you in private.” 
 
 “ Halloo ! what you have told madame, that you call me your 
 great duck, have you T exclaimed M. Secherin, turning towards 
 Ursula, and clapping his hands with astonishment. 
 
 “ Indeed ! what Ursula calls you already her great duck, my 
 good Monshur Secherin, does she V exclaimed my aunt. 
 
 “ Certainly she does, madame, and does not put gloves on for 
 fear of dirtying her fingers, when she calls me so, I can assure you,” 
 continued M. Secherin, 
 
 “ Ah ! madame, can you believe it,” exclaimed Ursula, with 
 tears of shame and confusion in her eyes. 
 
 “ What do you mean ?” continued M. Secherin, “ what do you 
 mean ? don’t you recollect that when I showed you the inventory , 
 of our fortune, on the morning but one after our marriage, I gave/ 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 l GO 
 
 you a kiss and said, 4 all that belongs to you and your great duck !’ 
 and that you returned the kiss, and answered — 1 yes all that belongs 
 to me and my great duck.’ Think for a minute and you must 
 recollect this, it was in the little green, room which I use as a 
 study.” 
 
 It is impossible to form an idea of Ursula’s pain and despair at 
 hearing these words. I felt deeply hurt for her, Gontran could not 
 repress a smile, and Mademoiselle de Maran was triumphant. She 
 did not, however, choose to protract this scene too much, and con- 
 tinued immediately. 
 
 “ Will you be good enough to hold your tongue, Monsieur 
 Secherin ? you naughty tell-tale you ! Do people ever talk of such 
 things ? Those delicate little blisses should be kept for oneself, 
 they are some of those bewitching and under the rose little felicities 
 of marriage, which one gloats over in secret, but must not pro- 
 claim publicly ! If Ursula had called you her great duck a 
 thousand times over, she would die sooner than confess it, and she 
 is right. I repeat it again, you are are a naughty tell-tale. Oh ! 
 these men, these men, we cannot allow them to read the most 
 charming predilections of our hearts, we cannot betray those pre- 
 dilections to them by the sweetest names, without their immediately 
 going and bawling it out in the street !” 
 
 “ Well, that is true, madame,” said M. Secherin. “I was wrong, 
 and you are right, as you always are, this is another lesson by which 
 I shall profit. I shall always reserve little darling and great duck 
 for our two selves, my wife.” 
 
 “ And you will act wisely in so doing. But tell me a little more 
 about these emigrants’ property which your worthy father purchased 
 when he was a trader on a small scale, you can’t imagine how that 
 interests me. Was there much of this property?” 
 
 “ Yes, madame, it belonged partly to the Rochegune family, 
 before the revolution ; but my father sold them back to the old 
 Marquis at the restoration.” 
 
 My aunt scowled at hearing this name, which had so singularly 
 and frequently recurred in the course of that day. 
 
 “ Has M. de Rochegune mnclr more property in that province^ 
 sir ?” asked Gontran. 
 
 “ Oh yes, sir, he possesses all the estates as well as all the good 
 qualities of his father. The alms-house for old men, which was 
 founded by the late Marquis, is within half a dozen miles of my 
 house. Ah ! madame,” added M. Secherin, with enthusiasm, and 
 turning towards my aunt, “ how much good the late Marquis did 
 in the country, and so little pride with it all ! In a word, 
 madame, just fancy that while he resided at his chateau de 
 Rochegune, he used to attend mass every Sunday at the old men’s 
 ^ms-house, after mass he dined at their table, went with them 
 
TUB ORPHAN. 
 
 1C1 
 
 to vespers, supped with them afterwards, and slept in their dormi- 
 tory ; this he invariably did once a week : nor was this all, for 
 when one of the poor died, the Marquis used to follow the coffin 
 to the cemetery. That was a kind way of shewing kindness, was 
 it not, madame f* 
 
 “ Oh yes, certainly,” ironically replied Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 “ Dipping in the same dish with those old vagabonds — upon my 
 word I think the idea a charming one.” 
 
 “ Ah ! you are quite right, madame,” replied M. Secherin, with 
 simplicity, poor old folks, it warmed the very cockles of their 
 hearts. But this was nothing to what he did besides, madame.” 
 “ God bless my soul, can there be anything still more flabber- 
 gasting than this trencher fellowship with a parcel of beggars V 
 “ Yes madame. As I happened to be the largest manu- 
 facturer in the district, the marquis had requested me to give 
 these poor devils a little to do ; they did it indeed, but how, 
 God only knows ! the work was not worth twopence, it was so 
 much raw material lost, for which the late marquis used to 
 pay : and not satisfied with this he invariably repaid me the 
 trifling sums which I gave those poor old men, nominally as 
 the price of their work, so that they imagined they earned 
 by their own labour, the little luxuries which they were thqs 
 enabled to procure — ■” 
 
 “ Well really now, this was delicacy in the superlative degree, 
 indeed !'’ exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran. “ and it shews 
 good judgment too ; for only just fancy, if these worthy vaga- 
 bonds had happened to find out that this M. de Rochegune 
 took the liberty of bestowing his alms upon them in every 
 possible sort of way, they might have broken out into a revo- 
 lution at the very least, and have dusted this impertinent 
 marquis’s jacket for him nicely, or perhaps they might have 
 taken advantage of some night when he was going to sleep in 
 their dormitory, to give him a precious good bolstering, and 
 one which he certainly would have deserved.” 
 
 The bitterness with which Mademoiselle de Maran sneered 
 at an action, whose delicacy might perhaps be exaggerated, but 
 which at least revealed the most touching kindness of disposi- 
 tion ; proved how irritated she was at seeing the lie so brilliantly 
 given to her calumnies. Gontran shared in my emotion, and 
 Ursula with her fixed gaze seemed absorbed in profound and 
 painful reflections. 
 
 M. de Lancry said to M- Secherin. 
 
 “ I agree with you sir, in admiration of M. de Rochegune’s 
 Gonduct. Is this alms-house still kept up ?” 
 
 “ It is, sir, and the present marquis follows exactly the ex- 
 ample of his father. When he returned from his travels, he 
 
 M 
 
1G2 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 passed six months at his chateau, and like his father he went 
 once a week to dine and sleep at the alms-house ; it is no wonder 
 then that, like his father, he is adored by every one in the 
 district.” 
 
 “ And he assuredly deserves it just as much as his father 
 did,” said Mademoiselle de Maran, with bitterness. “ And pray 
 does he put on a pauper’s cap and smock frock too, on those de- 
 lightful days.” 
 
 “ No, madame, he wears his usual dress. Oh ! he does that, 
 as he does everything else, simply and without ostentation. It is his 
 nature, he inherits it from his father. It is just the same with his 
 courage, he is as brave as a lion. Just to give you an idea of it, 
 some seven or eight years ago, when he was not above twenty, he 
 and an odd sort of fellow, whose name was the Count de Mortagne, 
 and who had been an intimate friend of the late Marquis, performed 
 an exploit, before which, perhaps, even the most intrepid men would 
 have recoiled.” 
 
 “ My aunt’s ill humour increased at hearing M. de Mortagne’s 
 name. 
 
 “ Did you know M. de Mortagne ?” I said eagerly to M. 
 Secherin. 
 
 “ Yes, mademoiselle, he was an original who had been to the 
 end of the world, formerly a trooper in the grande armee, and with 
 a beard like a pioneer’s ; he used to come very often and see us 
 at the factory, and he was a great favourite of my poor father’s. 
 To return, however, to my story, one day he and the young de 
 Rochegune were out with a pack of harriers, they had, consequently, 
 no guns, or any other arms but the whips they carried ; the hare 
 came out of th z for ct de Rochegune, and took to the level country. 
 It was in the middle of winter, they found a shepherd lying in a 
 field, covered with blood and half dead.” 
 
 “ That will do, that will do,” impatiently exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 de Maran. u I easily see what it all was, some mad dog or wolf 
 which had bitten the sheep and the shepherd, and which these two 
 courageous Rolands valiantly put to death. Well, well, it was a 
 superb action, but I have had quite enough of it.” 
 
 “ No, madame, it was — ” 
 
 “ That will do, that will do, my dear Monsieur Secherin. pray 
 spare us all these romantic stories, they are doubtless very beauti- 
 ful, but so frightful that the remembrance of them to-night would 
 give me the night-mare. Besides, I can see by Ursula's eyes that 
 she is dying with impatience to go and gossip with Matilda.” 
 
 I got up, took my cousin by the hand and went with her to my 
 own apartments, leaving M. S6cherin with my aunt and Gontran. 
 
 ■o- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 1G3 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE AVOWAL. 
 
 Ursula had been deeply and cruelly humiliated ; she had not only 
 suffered from the vulgarity of her husband but also by the revela- 
 tion of the ridiculously familiar expressions, which he had used 
 towards her, a few days after their marriage, Mademoiselle de 
 Maran had succeeded even beyond her wishes ; her treacherously 
 feigned good nature, which had at the very outset thrown Ursula’s 
 husband off his guard, had placed M. S^cherin in a light that was 
 almost grotesque, and chance had done the rest. 
 
 I think that now, without anticipating events too much, I may 
 induce you to remark that from my very childhood, Mademoiselle 
 de Maran had been actuated by one predominant intention, that 
 of exciting the jealousy and envy of Ursula against myself ; my 
 aunt was in fact desirous of turning sooner or later, into an im- 
 placable enemy her whom I loved with tenderness the most sincere* 
 When I was a child, she had represented my intellect aud clever- 
 ness as far superior to Ursula’s, when I had reached the years of 
 girlhood, it was my beauty, it was my fortune which was totally 
 to eclipse my cousin, and to wind up all she had now exerted her- 
 self to enhance the distinction, the elegance, the position in society, 
 and the birth of Gontran who was my intended husband, by draw- 
 ing out, with an infernal malice the candid confidences 
 of M. Secherin. Alas ! I believe it, had it not been for my 
 
 aunt’s incessant perseverance, my cousin would not have so 
 often or so bitterly compared my position with her own ; she 
 would not have envied me the few advantages I might possess, and 
 we should have lived without rivalry and without jealousy. I shall 
 always believe that Ursula’s heart was, originally, a good and 
 generous one, and that it was my aunt’s insinuations that caused 
 all the mischief, which my former friend afterwards inflicted 
 upon me. 
 
164 
 
 THR ORPHAN. 
 
 I took Ursula up to my own room. I entertained the most com- 
 plete and the most blind confidence in her frankness, I looked upon 
 her as a victim, and I recalled to mind that letter written so lugu- 
 briously and mournfully which she had sent me, so that I could 
 not account for the singular familiarity of her expressions towards 
 her husband so soon after a marriage, her despair at the prospect 
 of which had even induced her to think of suicide. Had I for an 
 instant suspected Ursula of falsity, had I believed her capable of 
 contracting a union, not only with no feelings of pleasure, but 
 prompted by sordid calculations, I should have understood the 
 strange contradiction between my cousin’s words and her letter, 
 but, I repeat it, my faith in her was profound and I accordingly 
 awaited with anxiety the explanation of this mystery. When she 
 entered my room, Ursula threw herself into an arm chair, and hid 
 her face in her two hands without addressing a word to me. 
 
 “ Ursula, my friend, my sister !” I exclaimed, kneeling before 
 her and taking her two hands in my own. 
 
 “ Leave me, leave me,” she replied, endeavouring to disengage 
 herself and smiling, with bitterness, through her tears. “ Why do 
 you use these words of tenderness? they are not, they cannot be 
 any longer your real sentiments.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Ursula, this is cruel — what have I done to you 1 — what 
 have I said to you ? good God ! why do you receive me thus after 
 so long an absence T 
 
 “ I do not accuse your heart, Matilda ; it is a good and a gene- 
 rous one ; but its very generosity causes it to hold in horror every- 
 thing that is false and deceitful. Leave me, then — leave me, and 
 do not think yourself obliged to put on the appearance of loving 
 me any longer.” 
 
 “ Ursula, what are you saying ?” 
 
 “ Do I not know that you despise me ?” added the unhappy girl 
 bursting into tears. She then rose from her seat, and went to the 
 window, in order to wipe her eyes. 
 
 I had remained thunderstruck, unable to comprehend what 
 Ursula had said. I now ran up to her and exclaimed — 
 
 “ For God’s sake explain yourself ; what can you mean ? Why. 
 do you insist upon it that I must despise you ?” 
 
 “ Why ? — Matilda, can you ask me why ? Good God ! a fortnight 
 ago I wrote you a despairing letter — a letter which painted the 
 fearful desolation of my heart ; you are moved by my despair ; you 
 compassionate your friend, you weep over her sacrifice, over her 
 lost illusions, and not a moment ago, you heard it said that this 
 very girl, who for an instant had seen no other refuge from an 
 odious futurity but death, that this very girl three days after that 
 detested marriage, lavishes names the most ridiculously familiar 
 upon her husband. Once more, Matilda, I tell you, you despise 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 
 me, or else you conceal that feeling, and compassionate me. Com- 
 passion ! I will not have it — I prefer contempt — I prefer hatred — 
 I prefer indifference : but compassion ! — oh ! never, never !” 
 
 And placing her handkerchief to her mouth, Ursula stifled the 
 sobs which she was unable to restrain. 
 
 “ You are mad, Ursula ! you cannot mean what you say — remem- 
 ber my letter ! Do I not feel your tears dropping upon my cheeks !” 
 I said embracing her — “ Do I not see, alas ! that you are very, very 
 unhappy ? What difference, after all, can a falsehood of your 
 husband’s make in me f ’ 
 
 “ A falsehood ! no, it is not a falsehood, Matilda, no — I really 
 really did use those ridiculously familiar words — do you hear ? I 
 did use them.” 
 
 “ You did use them, Ursula V* 
 
 “ Yes, yes, — so leave me, you see very well I am the most false 
 and dissembling of creatures. I feign despair to excite pity, while 
 in fact I am enchanted with this marriage ; after all, my husband 
 is so rich — Oh ! shame ! oh, infamy !” 
 
 And Ursula pressed her forehead violently with her two hands. 
 
 “ No, there is no shame, there is no infamy,” I exclaimed. “ there 
 is some mystery here which I do not understand. And after all 
 what do I care for some few words that are passed ; you suffer, you 
 weep, well then I will suffer, I will weep with you. Look at my 
 tears, oh ! my sister, feel how my poor heart beats — Say, say now, 
 do you think this is contempt or pity ?” 
 
 “ Well then, no, no, I believe you, Matilda, forgive me, oh, for- 
 give me, for having dared to doubt your heart even for an instant. 
 But I had, and must have still, so many prejudices to destroy in 
 your mind.” 
 
 “ Not one — I tell you.” 
 
 “ Then listen to me, my sister, my tender sister ; your tears, 
 your affection, wring my secret from me. Just now I was deter- 
 mined to tell you nothing. I was determined to see you no more, 
 for to live with you, and to be, by you, suspected of deceit, oh ! that 
 seemed to me impossible.” 
 
 “ Poor Ursula ! come then, do I not deserve your confidence V ’ 
 
 “ Yes, oh, yes ! and you alone, as God is my witness, listen then. 
 This marriage was a source of such despair to me, that to the last 
 moment, in spite of myself, I believed some unforeseen event 
 would prevent it. Yes — I was like those condemned prisoners who 
 know they are to die, that there is no pardon for them, and who 
 yet cannot help expecting that pardon impossible as it is. It was 
 a last instinct of happiness which struggled in my breast.” 
 
 “ Ursula — Ursula — your words are frightful — How you must 
 have suffered, good God !” 
 
 “ I obeyed my father — I was determined to render it impossible 
 
166 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 for you to consummate the generous sacrifice which you had pro- 
 posed to me. My fate being irrevocably fixed, I had but two alter- 
 natives — death . ” 
 
 “ Ursula — Ursula — do not talk thus, you terrify me.” 
 
 “ Death, or an existence hopelessly and unceasingly wretched. 
 For a moment I remained without force under this blow, under 
 this prospect of a fatal futurity ! yet, before resigning myself wholly 
 to despair, I asked myself what caused the aversion which I enter- 
 tained for my husband, I assured myself that it was the vulgarity 
 of his manners, his defective education, for I believe his heart to 
 be good.” 
 
 “ Oh ! without a doubt, Ursula, believe it, believe it, he is a 
 good and a generous man. Did you not see with what sensibility 
 he talked of M. de Eochegune’s deeds of charity ? And, after all, 
 the world will soon polish his language and his manners.” 
 
 “ Well then, I said to myself : this vulgar language offends me, 
 those almost coarse familiarities disgust me. My life is to be passed 
 henceforth in the company of this man, and I must renounce all 
 the bright ideas of my girlhood. Henceforth my life must be a 
 totally different one. Courage then, all is over — all,” and Ursula’s 
 voice was choked by tears. “ It is the natural and habitual deli- 
 cacy,” she continued, of my thoughts and my instincts that 
 renders me so unhappy. Well then, since I cannot elevate my 
 husband to my own level, I will degrade myself to his — yes, I will 
 use this language which disgusts me, I will imitate those manners 
 at which I shudder with repugnance. Matilda ! Matilda ! what I 
 said, I did, I flattered this man, as he wished to be flattered. I 
 pretended to love him, as he wished to be loved, and I repeated, 
 blushing with humiliation and shame while I did so, the ludicrously 
 familiar expressions which he employed. Oh ! my sister, my 
 sister, you can never know what I suffered during the week of trials 
 to which I had condemned myself ; you can never know all tnat 
 there is of frightful in that profanation of one's self — in that lie of 
 the lips, at which the heart revolts. Oh ! what tears I swallowed 
 in secret, while I played that melancholy and bitter farce. But 
 now I can do it no more, my anguish is too intense — No I can do 
 it do more. Ah ! sooner than go on in that course of degradation 
 and falsehood, sooner die — sooner die a thousand deaths !” 
 
 Ursula spoke in a tone so harrowing, so despairing, her look was 
 so wild and her features so convulsed, that she terrified me. I now 
 understood her conduct, and I was struck with the courage which 
 she must have possessed to have attempted only what she had 
 done. 
 
 “ Courage, courage, my sister,” I said to her, “ only listen to 
 my advice. You are deceiving yourself I think, in endeavouring 
 to degrade yourself to your husband’s level. His heart is a generous 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 167 
 
 one, he loves you with idolatry, try then to raise him to your own 
 elevation. Did you not perceive just now, how eagerly he received 
 Mademoiselle de Marans observations ? Imagine then what an 
 authority yours would possess over him. Ursula, oh my sister ! 
 think of this. Doubtless I should have desired a different mar- 
 riage for you, but then this one has actually taken place Do not 
 then reject the chances of happiness which even this union holds 
 out to you.” 
 
 “ Happiness, Matilda, happiness for me ? oh, never.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, happiness. Your husband is kind, frank and honour- 
 able ; he is rich and he dotes upon you. He is not remarkably 
 handsome, his manners and his language may be deficient in 
 elegance, what then, is all this wholly irreparable ? Oh, believe 
 me he will soon learn, a good example is everything. And he will 
 have such a charming model to study in you. And then would 
 you like U3 to assist you? — yes, to make this education an easier 
 task for you,” I said with a smile, “ would you like us to come and 
 pay you a visit next summer ? If you do not intend to take a 
 house at Paris, just yet, you shall come to us. We have now a house 
 quite large enough to enable us to offer you a room. Well, what 
 do you say to my project ?” 
 
 “ I say you are still, as always, the best of friends, the tenderest 
 of sisters,” said Ursula, embracing me with enthusiasm. “ I say 
 that when with you I forget my misery, and that you have the gift 
 of invariably causing me to hope. But, alas ! it will be difficult, 
 Matilda, now to re-animate my illusions.” 
 
 “ I do not wish to restore illusions, I only wish you to believe in 
 realities. You shall see your husband in a year. Then your love 
 will have metamorphosed him.” 
 
 “ Only think how selfish we are rendered by sorrow,” said Ursula. 
 “ I say nothing to you about your own happiness, you at least must 
 be so happy.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, I am now, especially as you are here to share that 
 happiness. Indeed, Ursula, if I knew you were without sorrows, 
 
 I could not conceive any felicity equal to mine. Gontran is so 
 kind, so devoted, his heart is so noble, his disposition so exalted, 
 and then he understands me so well. Oh, I feel it here — in the 
 security of my heart, it is a happiness to finish but with existence. 
 My confidence in him is immoveable, and death alone could dis- 
 turb it. Could even death do it? No, no, when love is like ours, 
 when happiness is so intense as mine, one does not survive, one dies 
 the first. No, nothing in the world could change my conviction 
 that I shall be the happiest of women, and that my happiness will 
 last during my whole life, or rather during the whole of Gontran’s.” 
 
 * 
 
 * # * 
 
 * 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 168 
 
 Even now, my friend, though those presentiments of my heart 
 have been cruelly, very cruelly deceived, I can remember that the 
 confidence which I then felt in a futurity of happiness, was a blind 
 and absolute one. 
 
 ****** 
 
 A week after Ursula’s arrival, there was to be an evening as- 
 sembly of all our family for the signature of my marriage articles 
 with M. de Lancry. Mademoiselle de Maran had obtained a 
 promise from the mayor of our arroridissement , to marry us that 
 evening after the above ceremony, so that we might escape all vul- 
 gar curiosity. 
 
 o ■ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 On the morning of the day when the marriage articles were to be 
 signed, I was awakened, as usual, by Blondeau, who brought me 
 the basket of heliotripes and jessamines, which Gontran had sent 
 me regularly every morning. I have always attached an extreme 
 importance to what is vulgarly called little things. Delicate at- 
 tentions, when persisted in, prove that the mind is constantly 
 occupied by one thought, and the opportunities afforded of proving 
 the heart’s devotion, by some dazzling exploit, are so rare that it 
 is better to coin that devotion into small change , if I may be per- 
 mitted such an expression. Those who reserve themselves com- 
 pletely for the chance occurrence of some extraordinary circum- 
 stance, appear to tell you — “ drown yourself \ throw yourself into 
 the midst of a furnace, and then you shall know the value of my 
 love.” Fatalist as I was in all matters of the heart, this basket 
 of flowers which arrived every morning, possessed an immense sig- 
 nificancy in my eyes. With it was linked the remembrance of 
 Gontran’s first avowal of affection, and I felt unspeakable joy in 
 the consciousness that henceforth every day of mine would com- 
 mence by a thought of him, which would come to me in the midst 
 of my favourite flowers. I went very early to church with Madame 
 Blondeau. As the moment drew near when I was to become Gon- 
 tran’s, I felt more than ever the irresistible necessity of praying 
 to and praising God, and of placing a futurity, which promised so 
 much happiness, under the protection of heaven and of my sainted 
 mother, who was there. I experienced a serene, confiding, and 
 serious joy, and often, during the day, my eyes would spontaneously 
 
THIS 0KFIIAN. 
 
 169 
 
 fill with tears of pleasure. These were dreamy, involuntary emo- 
 tions, which always terminated by impetuous bursts of ineffable and 
 pious gratitude. About four o’clock, Mademoiselle de Maran sent 
 for me into her room, where I had not been for a very long time. 
 I cannot describe my feelings at finding myself once more in that 
 apartment, which recalled all the cruel scenes I had gone through 
 in my childhood. Nothing was changed there, there was the same 
 crucifix, the same coloured windows, the red lacquer desk, and, in 
 their old glass cases, the ancestors of Felix, who would, doubtless, 
 soon rejoin them. Mademoiselle de Maran was sitting at her desk, 
 and I saw, placed before her, a jewel case, a portfolio, and a 
 medallion, at which my aunt was gazing with so much attention, 
 that she did not perceive my entrance. Her features, always so 
 contemptuous, wore, at that minute, an expression of stern melan- 
 choly, which I had never observed in them before. Her thin lips 
 were no longer distorted into that implacable, ironical smile, which 
 rendered her so formidable, but she seemed absorbed in anxious 
 and painful reflections. 
 
 I hesitated to speak to her. As I leant against the chimney- 
 piece, I happened to move, though very slightly, a lamp which was 
 upon it. Mademoiselle de Maran turned round with a quick move- 
 ment of the head. 
 
 “ Who is there ?” she exclaimed. Seeing who it was, she let the 
 medallion, which she was holding in her hand, drop down to its 
 former place, and remained for a minute in a silent reverie. 
 
 “We are going to part, Matilda,” she at last said to me, and 
 her voice had a tone of gentleness which struck me mute with 
 surprise. “ Your early youth was not a happy one, was it ? It will 
 always be with bitterness that you will reflect upon the time which 
 you spent with me.” 
 
 “ Madame.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I know it must be so, I know it very well,” she continued 
 in a slow voice, and as if she were talking to herself. “ You have 
 often been treated harshly and angrily by me. I have not been to 
 you what I ought to have been — No, I know it very well. This 
 is doubtles the reason that I feel a kind of sorrow at parting with 
 you, your youth and beauty gave at least a little animation to this 
 house. I am very old, and it is melancholy at my age to be left 
 alone, to wait for one’s last day with only a dog for a companion ; 
 and then to die in solitude, with none to mourn, none to regret 
 me.” 
 
 After a few moments of gloomy silence, she continued with 
 gentleness : 
 
 “ Matilda, be generous, do not leave my house with a feeling of 
 animosity against me, that would make my solitude a still more 
 painful one.” 
 
170 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran must have been sincere in speaking to 
 me thus. The most depraved dispositions are not proof against 
 such occasional re-actions. Besides, her emotion betrayed itself in 
 the expression of her features, in the very tone of her voice. She 
 had no interest in acting such a comedy to me, and I was deeply 
 touched at this proof of interest in myself, which was the only 
 one my aunt had ever exhibited. I had been more pleased than 
 moved by her consent to my union with Gontran. I knew, that 
 strictly speaking, I might have done without her approbation, and 
 I felt, without any exaggerated vanity, that my aunt ought to be 
 well satisfied with having been enabled, even while securing my 
 happiness, to bestow my hand upon the nephew of one of her own 
 intimate friends ; but, nevertheless, upon this occasion, the af- 
 fectionate regrets which Mademoiselle de Maran betrayed towards 
 me, touched me passionately. I took her hand, raised it to my 
 lips, and kissed it, this time, at least, with a veneration that had 
 something of tenderness in it. Her head was bent down, and I 
 could only see her forehead. She suddenly raised herself by a 
 quick movement, and opened her arms to me, as she did so. To 
 my great astonishment her eyes were moistened by two tears, the 
 only ones which I had ever seen Mademoiselle de Maran shed. I 
 knelt down before her. She placed her two hands gently upon my 
 shoulders, and said to me, with a look in which I could trace a feel- 
 ing of tender interest. 
 
 Never have you complained — never have you felt the sweet- 
 ness of a mother’s caress ; up to the present moment I have either 
 tormented you abominably, or flattered you with fatal exaggeration. 
 I have done wrong, and now I am in despair for it. What more 
 can I say to you ? I shall regret it till the end of my life, which, 
 alas ! is not far distant. Fortunately your good disposition has 
 prevailed, that at least will be one reproach the less which I shall 
 have to make myself, and God knows, I have enough besides. Believe 
 me, my dear girl, my regrets are so poignant, that if it were still 
 time, I would — I would — but no — no — and yet — ” 
 
 Without finishing her sentence, my aunt again bent down her 
 head, as if some struggle between her wish to speak, and some 
 other influence, were at work within her. I was terrified, in spite 
 of myself, as though my future life depended upon the secret which 
 my aunt hesitated to tell me. Mademoiselle de Maran, desirous, 
 perhaps, to confirm her good resolution, by asking me for fresh 
 words of tenderness, said to me — “ You detest me less than formerly, 
 do you not V 
 
 “ Oil ! aunt, I have just learnt to love you, all is forgotten,” and 
 I pressed her two hands in mine, wilh a gush of tenderness. 
 
 “ Well, it does, one good, much good, to hear this said to one. 
 And if I did you a great service — a service which, perhaps, would 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 171 
 
 secure the happiness of your whole existence, would you love me 
 dearly ? Would you tell me often, in your voice of sweetness and 
 emotion — ‘ I love you dearly V — you look at mo with astonishment, 
 do answer me. I have been always feared or detested, except by 
 your father, my own excellent brother. Ah ! he did love me. But 
 then I had never been kind or devoted to any one but him — yes, 
 I loved him so much, so much, that I thought I had a right to hate 
 everybody else, and then, doubtless, one has in oneself a greater or 
 less natural quantity of kindness ; for my part I had very little, 
 and all I had I concentrated upon your father. I know not why, 
 at this minute, your voice, your accent touches me, and arouses in 
 my breast something, which, if it bo not kindness, is at least com - 
 passion. So tell me once more that you would dearly love, love 
 with all the energies of your heart, a friend who would stop you at 
 the very edge of a precipice down which you were about to fall. 
 Answer me — answer me- Would you devote your life to such a 
 friend 1” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran uttered these last words with a kind of 
 nervous impatience, which proved the violence of the struggle 
 taking place within her. Without understanding my aunt’s mean- 
 ing, I threw myself into her arms, in an agony of apprehension. 
 
 “ Oh ! have pity upon me !” I exclaimed. “ I know not what 
 misfortune menaces me, but if there be one, oh ! speak — speak. 
 You are my father’s sister. I am alone — alone — I have but you in 
 the world. Who will enlighten me if it be not you ? Oh ! speak, 
 in pity speak ! A misfortune do you say ? but what can it be ? 
 Gontran loves me, I love him as woman only can love, Ursula is 
 my tenderest friend, can I make my entrance into the world under 
 more fortunate auspices ? You yourself, at this minute, are speak- 
 ing to me with tenderness, and a few words of yours have effaced 
 for ever all the painful memories of my childhood. If any hidden 
 misfortune does threaten my destiny, oh ! tell it me — in pity tell 
 it me.” 
 
 “ Unhappy girl ! some voice, though I know not whence it 
 comes, warns me that it would be a fearful crime to leave you in 
 your present error, and that sooner or later the justice of God or 
 man would overtake me !” exclaimed my aunt. 
 
 The feeling to which she was giving way was so generous a one, 
 her emotion sprang from such a noble source, that for an instant 
 her countenance was almost touchingly beautiful. I was listening 
 to her in unspeakable anguish, when Servien knocked at the door, 
 and came in carrying a letter upon a silver waiter. My heart 
 misgave me fearfully, a sinister presentiment warned me that the 
 fatal hazard which had interrupted Mademoiselle de Maran. was 
 about to conceal for ever from my eyes, the mystery that she wa 3 
 on the point of divulging to me. 
 
172 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ What is the matter 1” exclaimed my aunt, with an impatience 
 that had in it something almost painful. 
 
 “ A letter, madame,” said Servien, holding out the waiter. 
 Mademoiselle de Maran took it hastily, and said — 
 
 “ Leave us.” 
 
 I breathed again more freely, I believed that my aunt would 
 continue our conversation, for the expression of her countenance 
 was unchanged, and she even appeared so pre-occupied that she 
 threw the letter upon her desk without breaking the seal. By 
 some fatality the direction was turned uppermost before my aunt, 
 the hand-writing struck her, she took the letter and opened it 
 hastily. 
 
 All my hopes vanished : the letter seemed to have the effect of 
 a thunderbolt upon her, her features assumed by degrees their 
 habitual expression of irony and harshness, and her eyebrows, 
 which frowned sternly, gave her a more detestable aspect than 
 ever. For a minute she remained like one stupified, and muttered 
 while she crumpled the letter with rage — 
 
 “ And I, who was just now going to — Why, what the deuce can 
 have been the matter with me 1 I fancy I must have been mad — 
 the girl had bewitched me, Here was I making a fool of myself 
 with all kinds of affectionate absurdities, while he — Ah ! may hell 
 confound him ! luckily I have time enough.” 
 
 These words of my aunt, during the utterance of which she 
 had made several long and meditative pauses, terrified me. 
 
 “ Madame,” I said to her, trembling ; “ Just now you were 
 about to make a most important confession to me.” 
 
 “ Just now, I was a fool, an idiot, do you hear V’ she replied 
 in a bitter and angry tone. ,e Ha, ha, ha, and this girl believed 
 it all, and she did not see I was laughing at her, with all my 
 fine sensibility. I am remarkably sensitive indeed.” 
 
 “ I did believe in your emotion, madame. Yes you were 
 moved. It is in vain to deny it, I saw tears in your eyes. 
 Ah, madame, in the name of those tears whose source was, per- 
 haps the memory of my father, do not leave me a prey to painful 
 uneasiness ! Give way to that generous sentiment which but a few 
 minutes ago opened your arms to me. It would be too cruel, ma- 
 dame, to have sown doubt and distrust in my heart, the more cruel, 
 since that doubt and that distrust may fix itself upon everything, 
 and arouse in my bosom a vague suspicion of those I love most 
 dearly in the world.” 
 
 “ Indeed, that is your opinion, is it ? Well then, so much 
 the better, it will be a nice little occupation for you to try and 
 guess the word of this enigma. You have no idea how amusing 
 it will be, and I promise I will tell you if you guess right.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 173 
 
 “ Madame,” I exclaimed, indignant at my aunt’s cold malice 
 “ You have said it yourself, the justice of God or man would 
 overtake you if — ” 
 
 “ Ha, ha, ha,” exclaimed my aunt, interrupting me with one of 
 her bursts of sarcastic laughter. “ What are you thinking about 
 with your justice of God or man 1 Do you mean to threaten 
 me with being prosecuted by the Attorney-General, or excom- 
 municated by the Pope ? Can’t you see then that I was only 
 joking ? What on earth can be more natural ? one is so merry 
 on a wedding-day. I suppose you will tell me next about my two 
 tears. Well then, my good girl, I will let you into a secret 
 which may be of use to you some day, when you want to melt 
 Gontran’s heart, during one of those little domestic discussions 
 which will happen in the happiest and best regulated families. 
 Just look here, one tiny grain of snuff in each eye, and you will 
 weep like a Magdalen. And you know eyes so beautiful as your 
 own, must be irresistible when they weep.” 
 
 “But, madame,” — 
 
 “ Ah ! I forgot, I have a few things here which your mother in her 
 will directed me to deliver up to you on the day of your marriage ; 
 that is to say when the marriage should have been completed. I 
 was thinking of giving them to you now — but I have changed my 
 mind — you shall have them this evening, after the ceremony,” and 
 with these words my aunt got up and locked her desk. 
 
 “ Ah, madame, grant me that at least — I said to her, “ you will 
 leave me very sad, very frightened at your cruel silence. Those last 
 proofs of my mother’s tenderness will at least console me.” 
 
 “ It is impossible,” replied Mademoiselle de Maran — “ the clause 
 in the will is a formal one. When you are once married, I will 
 deliver up all the things to you. — God bless my soul, it is already 
 five o’clock — and I am not dressed! Leave me my dear girl.” 
 
 While thus speaking my aunt rang for one of her maids, who, as 
 she came in informed her that a package had just been brought to 
 the drawing-room for me, from the Viscount de Lancry. 
 
 “ Make haste — it must be your corbeille ,” said my aunt — “ and 
 judging from Gontran’s taste, it is no doubt both a charming and 
 magnificent one.” 
 
 I was grieved to the heart when I left Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 room. When I thought of the secret which she had been going 
 to confide to me, for the second time, my mind recurred, in spite of 
 myself to what I had been told by the Duchess de Riche ville. — And 
 yet — I did not in the least distrust Gontran, for had he not himself 
 anticipated my suspicions by confessing to me the errors which 
 might be imputed to him % and moreover I loved him passionately, 
 and my faith in him was profound. All the security and enchant- 
 ment which the future pro™ 1 ’^ were promised only, because that 
 
174 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 future was to depend upon him. It was just the same with Ursula’s 
 friendship ; which I believed to be as devoted and sincere, as were 
 the feelings which I myself experienced towards her. 
 
 The cruel uneasiness, therefore, with which Mademoiselle de Maran 
 had inoculated my heart, hovered, as it were, ov^r the two only 
 affections which I possessed, and seemed to menace both, without 
 actually attacking either. 
 
 I found in the drawing-room the corbeille which had been sent to 
 me by M. de Lancry. It justified my aunt's expectations, for it 
 was impossible to see anything more elegant and more rich ; diamonds, 
 jewels, lace, cashmere shawls, dresses, etc — all of the most exquisite 
 taste were there in profusion. But I was too sad to enjoy all these 
 wondrous things, and I should hardly have looked at them, had 
 they not been chosen by Gontran. However, after endless guesses 
 at the mystery which Mademoiselle de Maran was concealing from 
 me, I ended by becoming convinced, that her emotion, which I 
 had at first believed to be sincere, was nothing less than real, and 
 that her sole object had been to torment me and to leave a sting 
 in her farewell. 
 
 The presence of Gontran — who came a little before the hour fixed 
 for the signature of the marriage articles — and his expressions of 
 tenderness completely re-assured me. 
 
 At nine o’clock, the members of my family and of Gontran’s 
 were assembled in the great drawing-room of the Hotel de Maran. 
 I was placed between my aunt and the Duke de Yersac. The 
 notary had arrived. Almost at the same instant, we were 
 startled by a violent cracking of whips, and the loud, rumbling noise 
 of a carriage, which was driven into the yard at the full speed of 
 its horses. 
 
 I looked at my aunt ; her face became livid. 
 
 The next minute M. de Mortagne appeared at the drawing-room 
 door. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 M. DE MORTAGNE. 
 
 Had it not been for the strongly marked features which gave 
 so characteristic an expression to M. de Mortagne’s countenance, 
 it would have been impossible to recognize him. His beard and 
 hair had became as white as snow, while his wrinkled forehead, his 
 hollow and lustreless eyes, and his deeply furrowed cheeks, were 
 evidences of long and cruel sufferings, his dress was as careless as 
 usual. It was a strange contrast, that almost sinister apparition, in the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 175 
 
 midst of a drawing-room glittering with gold and light, and filled 
 with men and women exquisitely dressed. The assembly remained 
 at first mute with astonishment. M. de Mortagne came straight to 
 me, I got up, he took my hands and looked at me for some minutes ; 
 the fierce expression of his features became softened, he kissed me 
 tenderly on the forehead and said to me. 
 
 “ At last I am here ! God grant that it may not be too late” — 
 Then gazing at me attentively, he added — “It is her mother 
 again — the very image of her poor mother. Ah l I can account 
 well now for the monster’s hatred.” 
 
 When the first astounding effect had in some degree passed away 
 Mademoiselle de Maran recovered her habitual audacity and re- 
 solutely exclaimed — 
 
 “ What business have you here, sir 1” Without answering 
 her M. de Mortagne exclaimed in a voice of thunder. 
 
 “ 1 am come here to accuse and to convict three persons of the 
 most infamous machinations, and the most mercenary baseness ! 
 Those three persons are you, Mademoiselle de Maran ! you, Monsieur 
 d’Orbeval ! and you, Monsieur de Versac !” 
 
 My aunt moved restlessly in her arm chair ; M. d’Orbeval turned 
 pale with terror, and M. de Versac got up, but his nephew hastily 
 exclaimed. 
 
 “ Monsieur de Mortagne ! — beware. The Duke de Versac is my 
 uncle — and to insult him is te insult me.” 
 
 “ Your turn will come, Monsieur de Lancry, but not yet ; let us 
 deal first with causes, and then with the effects,” coldly replied M. de 
 Mortagne. 
 
 I seized Gontran’s hand and whispered to him imploringly. 
 
 “ What does it signify to you ? I love you — do not be enraged 
 with M. de Mortagne, he was the only protector of my childhood.” 
 
 M. de Mortagne continued. 
 
 “ I am prepared for vociferations, and threats — nothing can be 
 simpler ; whoever prevents my speaking, has reason to dread my 
 words.” 
 
 “We only dread your insults, sir,” — exclaimed my guardian. 
 
 “ When I have said what I have got to say, I shall be at the 
 orders of all who may consider themselves insulted.” 
 
 “ Eeally this is insupportable tyranny, do you think we are going 
 to put up with your Jack the Giant-killer’s airs here T exclaimed 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 “It is certainly intolerable,” said M. de Versac.” One cannot 
 conceive such ruffianism in a man of good family.” 
 
 “ It’s a clear case of slander and defamation,” added my guardian. 
 
 “You are afraid then of my revelations, since you attempt to 
 drown my voice V exclaimed M. de Mortagne, “you are afraid 
 
176 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 then that I should dissuade this unfortunate girl from the marriage 
 you would force her into ?” 
 
 “ Sir,” exclaimed Gontran, “ it is myself now, myself, do you 
 hear ? who summon you to speak out — and to speak out without re- 
 serve — however happy and honoured I should be by a union with 
 Mademoiselle Mathilde, I would this instant renounce my dearest 
 hopes, if she retained the slightest doubt of ” — 
 
 It was now my turn to interrupt M. de Lancry, and I said to M. 
 de Mortagne — I doubt not, sir, that your conduct is dictated by 
 the interest which you feel in me — I have not forgotten your kind- 
 ness in former years, but, I implore you, do not say another word — 
 Nothing in the world can change my resolution.” 
 
 “ But I, Mademoiselle, will change mine,” exclaimed Gontran. 
 “Yes, cruelly as I may suffer from doing so, I will resign your 
 hand if this man does not instantly explain himself.” 
 
 “ That is just what I want to do,” said M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ This is really absurd,” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran, who 
 was pale with rage, “ have none of you any blood in your veins, 
 that you suffer yourselves to be insulted thus by a ruffian like this 
 who seems to have escaped from Bicetre ?” 
 
 “ You mean escaped from the dungeons of Venice, where you have 
 kept me for the last eight years through your most execrable mach- 
 inations ?” thundered out M. de Mortagne, roughly seizing Made- 
 moiselle de Maran’s arm, and shaking her with fury. 
 
 “He will murder me, the wretch is capable of anything,” ex- 
 clained my aunt. 
 
 “ And what is there, infernal creature, of which you are incapable 1 
 Have I not suffered a thousand deaths from your treachery ? Look 
 at my hair grown white, look at my forehead furrowed by sufferings. 
 Eight years of torture — do you hear fiend ? and I will be revenged 
 though I pursue you to the grave — and even now I know not why 
 I do not this very instant rid the world of such a monster” — 
 added M. de Mortagne, throwing back Mademoiselle de Maran 
 into her arm chair. 
 
 This scene had been so abrupt, the accusation which M. de 
 Mortagne brought against my aunt seemed such an extraordinary- 
 one, that all present remained for a moment petrified with stupe- 
 faction and terror. Mademoiselle de Maran, dreaded as she was, 
 was still sufficiently an object of universal detestation, to render her 
 friends b y no means displeased at being the involuntary witnesses of 
 a scene so strangely scandalous. My aunt’s forehead was covered 
 with a cold sweat, she could scarcely breathe, and she stared at M. 
 de Mortagne with a terrified and bewildered glare. 
 
 “ Y ou are not aware, perhaps, how I discovered your abominable 
 plot ?” he continued addressing my aunt, while he took some papers 
 from his pocket — “ Do you recognize this letter to the governor of 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 177 
 
 Venice ? Do you recognize these incendiary proclamations ? All 
 this surprises you gentlemen ?” said M. de Mortagne, who detected 
 the looks of uneasy curiosity which were cast upon these mysterious 
 papers. “ Y ou do not understand me ? I can easily believe it, for 
 never was there a plot more wickedly and more adroitly conceived. 
 Listen then — and learn at last to know this woman. Eight years 
 ago I accused her, before all of you, who constituted the family 
 council for the protection of my niece’s interests, of treating that 
 unfortunate child with more than a step-mother’s cruelty. I asked 
 you to withdraw Matilda from her charge, you refused, I was alone, 
 you had numbers on your side, and I was forced to resign myself. 
 I was at that time obliged to leave Paris ; where, however, I hoped 
 soon to return, in order, whoever might like it or not, to watch un- 
 ceasingly over Matilda’s education. Her aunt dreaded my return, 
 you shall see how she prevented it — you tremble before this woman, 
 I perceive, but perhaps you will have courage enough to ac- 
 knowledge the blackness of her heart, if heart there be in that 
 hideous body.” 
 
 “And you suffer this ? And you allow me to be thus insulted V* 
 exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran with fury, and turning towards 
 the hearers of these strange revelations. 
 
 Not a soul answered her. 
 
 “Eight years ago” — continued M. de Mortagne, “I set off for 
 Italy, I was to wait at Naples for M. de Rochegune, who was the 
 son of one of my best friends. That young man who possessed an 
 ardent and generous heart, was to have accompanied me into*Greece, 
 in order to take a share in the struggle which was then going on in 
 that country. I was a complete stranger to all the plots which the 
 secret societies were then organizing in Italy. I arrived at Venice. 
 At first I was not molested — but one night the police visited my 
 house, I was arrested, and put into fetters, my papers and property 
 were seized, and I was placed in the closest confinement. I pro- 
 tested my innocence, and defied them to establish the least proof of 
 guilt against me ; the answer I received was, that the Austrian 
 Government had been informed of my evil designs, and that I had 
 come to take an active part in the proceedings of the revolutionary 
 societies. My trunks were brought and opened in my presence, 
 and in the bottom — a second and secret one of which I did not even 
 know the existence — several sealed packets were found.” 
 
 “ Why you must all be as mad as the man is himself to listen 
 seriously to such nonsense,” — exclaimed Mademoiselle de Maran — 
 “ For my part I won’t hear it any longer,” and she got up. 
 
 “ Very well, be off, it is not to you that I have any need of revealing 
 these abominable mysteries, you know them too well already.” Made- 
 moiselle de Maran sate down again, trembling with rage. 
 
 M. de Mortagne continued, 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 THE OIIPIIAN. 
 
 “ There packets were opened, and in them were discovered the 
 most incendiary manifestoes, proclamations of the Carbonari, 
 a plan of an insurrection against the Austrian Government, and 
 some mysterious letters directed to me, with the Paris post-mark, 
 which I was supposed to have read, and in which I was promised the 
 assistance of all the free men in Lombardy. — These were crushing 
 evidences, and I was thunderstruck at this inexplicable discovery. 
 I was questioned as to my opinions, and I was not coward enough 
 to deny them. I replied that I had devoted myself to one sole cause, 
 that of sacred, immaculate liberty. Those men could not understand 
 that, when I was courageous enough to avow opinions which might 
 be my ruin, I ought to be believed when I swore upon my honour 
 that 1 knew not those dangerous papers existed. I was thrown into 
 a dungeon were I remained for eight years, and when I came out, 
 as you see, with the decrepitude without the years of old age. — Now, 
 do you know, how I had been made the bearer of those fatal papers'? 
 A short time before I set off for Italy, this woman had sent Servien — 
 the worthy servant of a worthy mistress — to the servant who was to 
 accompany me. Under the pretext of introducing some contraband 
 articles into Italy, and thus realizing a large profit, he persuaded 
 him to have a second bottom put into my trunks, without my 
 knowledge, and to hide there the pretended packets of English lace. 
 Once arrived at Venice, an agent was to come and take the lace, 
 and to give twenty-five louis to my servant. The unfortunate 
 fellow, who was not aware of the danger of this commission, com- 
 plied— I set off, and there set off also almost at the same time as 
 myself, this letter addressed to the governor of V enice. 
 
 “ M. de Mortagne, who formerly served under the empire, and 
 who is well known for the extravagance of his revolutionary ideas, 
 and for his intimacy with the turbulent levellers of every nation, 
 will arrive at Venice in the course of May, the proof of his danger- 
 ous designs will be easily found by searching several of his trunks, 
 which are provided with double bottoms.’* 
 
 “Well, is that infamous enough ?” exclaimed M. de Mortagne, 
 crossing his arms upon his breast and casting a look of indignation 
 at Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ And pray what have I got to do, sir, with your packets of lace, 
 full of conspiracies ? Is it my fault, if, on seeing your revolutionary 
 projects defeated, you have invented an absurd history which no 
 one believes and with reason ? Who will ever be persuaded that I 
 have amused myself with fabricating proclamations, constitutions, 
 and conspiracies, and that I made one of my own servants the con- 
 fidant of this fine undertaking ? Pooh, pooh, sir, you are mad. 
 There is not a word of truth in the whole story — I deny it !” 
 
 • You deny it do you? — and your infamous Servien? will he 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 179 
 
 deny too tlie deposition of my servant, who formally accuses him of 
 having brought and delivered the packets into his hands ?” 
 
 “Your servant?” exclaimed my aunt with a loud laugh. 
 “ That is a nice sort of evidence, indeed, and one sure to be believed. 
 Like master, like man, sir. And your former performances pretty 
 well known ? What is there surprising in the letter which you 
 have read to us, and which was addressed to the governor of Venice ? 
 Have you not always declared yourself the champion of the friends 
 and brothers of every country under the sun ? The police here who 
 keep a pretty sharp eye upon you, probably informed — as an act of 
 neighbourly kindness — the Austrian police, of your projects — what 
 can be more simple % The thing is done every day. For God’s 
 sake then don’t bother us any more with your packets of lace, 
 crammed full of conspiracies, it is nothing but an old mother goose 
 story — you tried to come out as a Brutus, a Washington, a La Fayette, 
 and they clapped you into prison, which they were quite right in 
 doing. You grumble at your hair having become white, how can I 
 help it ? Every body knows the dungeons of Venice have not ex- 
 actly the properties of the Fountain of youth. If, as seems to be 
 the case, your head is a little cracked from the consequences of your 
 confinement ; for God’s sake have some shower baths, and leave us 
 in peace, for you are really intolerable.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s cruel sarcasms, contrary to my expec- 
 tation, made not the least impression upon M. de Mortagne. He 
 replied with the greatest sang fro id, “ Thanks to the active and 
 friendly exertions of Madame de Richeville, M. de Rochegune, and 
 some other friends, I am once more free ; in spite of your brazen 
 audacity, we have sufficient evidence to nail you to the pillory of 
 public opinion, and I will succeed in doing so.” 
 
 “We shall see, sir.” 
 
 “ And you shall not be nailed to it alone, for I will fasten your 
 accomplices at your side ; those, who from cowardly, selfish, or 
 mercenary motives, have served your infamous purposes. Do you 
 hear M. de Lancry ? do you hear M. d’Orbeval 1 do you hear M. 
 de Versac ?” 
 
 These words were received with an explosive burst of indig- 
 nation, but M. de Mortagne, not in the slightest degree disturbed, 
 continued. 
 
 “ Indeed I hardly know, gentlemen, if your conduct is not still 
 more execrable than Mademoiselle de Maran's. She hates me — she 
 also hates her niece ; and though hatred is a detestable passion, it 
 proves at least a certain energy. But you three have struggled, 
 which should surpass the others in cowardice, selfishness and 
 cupidity.” 
 
 “ Go on, sir, go on,” said Gontran, who was pale with rage. 
 
ISO 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “No doubt, a day arrived when you, M. de Yersac, said to 
 Mademoiselle Maran, ‘ my nephew is over head and ears in debt, 
 he is a desperate gambler, the world may shut its eyes to his 
 scandalous adventures, but he is a great trouble to me, and if he 
 gets into any awkward scrape, I shall be obliged to extricate him 
 out of natural consideration. Your niece is extremely rich, let us 
 arrange a marriage between them, my nephew’s debts will be paid, 
 and I shall have no more bother about his affairs.’ ” 
 
 “ Sir,” said M, de Versac, with the most perfect courtesy of 
 manner. “ Permit me to observe, that what you do me the honour 
 of asserting, is completely incorrect, and that — ” 
 
 “ Monsieur le due,” continued M. de Mortagne, “ if you had a 
 daughter who was very dear to you, would you give her to your 
 nephew 1 Answer upon your honour.” 
 
 “ I do not think, sir, that you and I are upon terms of such par- 
 ticular intimacy, as to require that I should make you my confidant 
 upon that subject,” replied M. de Versac. 
 
 “ This evasion is a blasting one for your nephew,” continued M. 
 de Mortagne. 
 
 Gontran was about to give way to his fury, but I restrained him 
 by dint of supplications. M. de Mortagne continued. 
 
 “ When this marriage was proposed, Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 doubtless, considered it under every aspect. Yes, she asked her- 
 self, if the future husband was really endowed with all the faults 
 and all the vices necessary to ensure the misery of her niece, whom 
 she detested. M. de Lancry appeared to her to possess the requisite 
 qualities, she gave her promise, therefore, to M. de Versac, and the 
 odious machination was duly commenced. People talk of human 
 justice, and yet such a thing as this can be done with impunity !” 
 exclaimed M. de Mortagne with indignation. “ Here is a young 
 girl, an orphan, a stranger, from her earliest years, to any affection, 
 abandoned to herself, without one to protect or to advise her. 
 They throw her, every instant of the day, into the company of a 
 man endowed with the most seductive and the most dangerous 
 fascinations, every honourable rival is sedulously kept away, she is 
 delivered up to this man, and to him alone — to a man who .has 
 long heen thoroughly versed in every intrigue of gallantry. She, 
 poor child, without experience, accustomed to the cruelties and the 
 treacheries of a step-mother, listens with an ingenuous and delighted 
 confidence, to the hypocritical flatteries and the lying promises of 
 this man. Ignorant of the danger she is incurring, she only finds 
 out her love — when that love is fixed ineradicably in her heart. 
 The unhappy girl has not one friend — one relation, to enlighten 
 her as to the dangers in her path, the situation, and the former 
 conduct of the man who is deceiving her.” 
 
 “ Enough, sir, enough !” I exclaimed, transported with indigna- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 t 
 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 181 
 
 tion, for I suffered cruelly at the thoughts of what Gontran must 
 be enduring. “ It is for me — and for me alone, to answer here. 
 Instead of concealing that past life which you so bitterly reproach 
 him with, M. de Lancry, in a spirit of honourable frankness, gave 
 me himself that information, which it was impossible for me to 
 seek, he said to me — ‘ I will net deceive you, my youth has been a 
 dissipated one, I have been a gambler and a prodigal.’ But when 
 M. de Lancry wished to speak to me of his own fortune, of the 
 little which he still possessed, I refused to listen to him, I have 
 not been deceived then into giving my hand to M. de Lancry. I 
 have a deep and absolute confidence in the assurances which he has 
 given me, in the future which I expect at his hands, and bitterly 
 regretting as I do this sad discussion, I am happy, oh ! very happy 
 at being enabled to declare now and here, in the most solemn and 
 unhesitating manner, that I am proud of the man whom I have 
 chosen.” 
 
 hi. de Mortagne looked at me with painful astonishment. 
 
 “ Matilda, Matilda, poor girl. Your confidence is abused — yo* 
 do not know what a fate awaits you.” 
 
 “ I shall always respect, sir, the sentiment which has dictated 
 your conduct, and I hope that some day you will acknowledge the in- 
 justice of your prejudices against M. de Lancry.” 
 
 Then going to the table on which the contract was lying, I 
 hastily signed tbe paper, and said to M. de Mortagne — 
 
 “ There is my answer, sir.” 
 
 And I gave the pen to Gontran. M. de Mortagne rushed to- 
 wards him, and said, addressing him in a voice that was almost im- 
 ploring in its emotion : 
 
 “ Oh ! have pity upon her. You are young, all good feeling 
 cannot be dead in your heart. Mercy for Matilda ! mercy for so 
 much candour, for so much confidence, for so much generosity. 
 Do not abuse the influence you possess over her — you well know 
 you cannot make her happy. Is it her fortune that you covet h 
 well, sir, speak out, I am rich — ” 
 
 At this last offer, which was an outrage, Gontran turned pale 
 with fury. 
 
 “ Sign, oh ! sign !” I said, in a faltering voice, to M. de Lancry. 
 
 “ Yes, yes — I will sign,” he replied, with suppressed rage. 
 “ Were I not to sign, it would be to confess myself guilty, to con- 
 fess that I deserve the outrages of this man ; were I not to sign, it 
 would be to acknowledge that I am unworthy of you, Matilda.” 
 
 And Gontran signed. 
 
 “ Say rather, that not to sign would be to renounce the fortune 
 which you covet, for you are utterly unworthy of understanding 
 and appreciating the qualities of that angel. In two months you 
 
182 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 will treat her as brutally as you do your mistresses, unless a stop be 
 put to your proceedings/’ 
 
 “ Gontran,” I whispered to M. de Lancry. “ I am now your 
 wife, grant me the first request which I make, do not say a word 
 to M. de Mortagne, I implore you, put an end to this scene which 
 is killing me.” 
 
 Gontran reflected for a few moments and then said to me, while 
 his countenance became gloomy in its expression. 
 
 “ Be it so, Matilda. You ask me a serious boon, and I grant it 
 to you.” 
 
 “ The sacrifice is consummated,” said M. de Mortagne, “ this 
 was to be expected. Well, now is the time for courage. More 
 than ever is it now my task to watch over you, Matilda. It will be 
 my duty to render, if possible, the consequences of your fatal im - 
 prudence less deadly to you, and to prevent the misfortunes which 
 I foresee. Rest assured, wherever you are, I will be, wherever you 
 go, I will follow. That monster,” and he pointed to Mademoiselle 
 de Maran, “ has been your evil genius, I will be your guardian 
 spirit. And on this spot I declare an exterminating war, a war 
 without quarter and without mercy against all our enemies wherever 
 they may be. My locks are white, my brow is furrowed, but God 
 has left me still the energy and devotion of the heart. Alas ! poor 
 girl, I have come late into the path of your existence. But I will 
 hope that I have not come too late. Adieu, my child, adieu. I 
 will sign this contract, I will be present at your marriage, it is my 
 right and my duty. And at this instant, more than ever, am I 
 determined to fulfil that duty and that right.” 
 
 And going up to the table, he signed the contract with a steady 
 hand. The voice, the countenance of M. de Mortagne bore such 
 a character of authority, that no one said a word. When he 
 had signed, he said : 
 
 “ M. d’Orbeval, M. de Versac, M. de Lancry, I retract nothing 
 that I have said, I spoke the truth, I maintain it and will main- 
 tain it to be the truth, here and everywhere else. Ten years 
 ago, I should have added, M. de Lancry, that I would maintain 
 it with my sword in my hand ! To day I will not say so ; my 
 life belongs to this poor girl, who, I well see, has no one left but 
 me in this world ! You need not smile contemptuously, young 
 man, you well know that M. de Mortagne knows not fear.” 
 
 Then extending his right arm he made an imperious and menacing 
 sign with his forefinger ; and said to M. de Lancry — 
 
 u If you do not atone for your past life, if you do not render 
 yourself worthy of that angel, by the tenderest gratitude, by an 
 adoration uninterrupted for an instant, it will be you, sir, who will 
 have to tremble, before me — Oh ! savage looks do not frighten 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 183 
 
 me, I have tamed fiercer animals than you.” And with these words 
 M. de Mortagne slowly withdrew. 
 
 Scarcely was he gone when the kind of stupefaction which had 
 been caused by this singular man, vanished. Everybody attacked 
 him, spoke of him with contempt, and accused him of being mad. 
 They began to remember that about nine years previously he had 
 indulged in the same incredible and savage attacks. The interest 
 which he had for a moment excited, by relating the treachery of 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, soon grew cold, almost all our relations 
 took my aunt’s part, and assured her that, they did not believe 
 a single word of M. de Mortagne’s romance on the causes of his 
 captivity at Venice. 
 
 A few minutes after his departure, we went to the mayor’s 
 office. 
 
 In spite of the cruel scene, which had just taken place, my blind 
 confidence in M. de Lancry was not shaken. M. de Mortagne and 
 Madame de Rieheville, accused him of faults which he had himself 
 confessed to me, and for which he had found an excuse, and almost 
 a justification in his love for me. I had believed him, and my only 
 feelings were irritation against M. de Mortagne, and redoubled 
 tenderness for Gontran. I reproached myself bitterly for having 
 been the cause of a scene so painful to him, and I formed the firm 
 resolution of blotting it from his memory by the strength of my af- 
 fectionate devotion. If you are astonished, my friend, at this 
 obstinacy in concluding the marriage, notwithstanding so many vague 
 or positive warnings, it is because you cannot know the blind and 
 intractable obstinacy of love, which always increases in almost an 
 exact ratio to the opposition with which it meets. 
 
 It was with a rapture which had something holy in it that I ut- 
 tered the word yes, when I was asked if I took Gontran as my 
 husband. When the ceremony was concluded we returned to the 
 Hotel de Maran. 
 
 Next morning we went to the Chapel of the Chamber of Peers, 
 where the marriage was to take place at nine o’clock. On our en- 
 trance the first person I perceived was M. de Mortagne. As he had 
 not been informed the evening before, he had been unable to assist 
 at the civil ceremony. 
 
 The Bishop of Amiens united us. His address to Gontran, was, 
 grave, serious, almost severe, I fancied my husband was judged by 
 his past conduct, and I was almost proud of the kind of conversion 
 which his love for me was about to operate for the future. When we 
 had come out of the chapel, we returned into a drawing-room which 
 the chancellor had been kind enough to place at our disposal. I 
 was close to the window with Gontran, and Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 waiting for M. de Versac’s return with whom we were to take our 
 departure. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 184 
 
 M. de Mortagne approached us. 
 
 I saw Gontran’s eyes sparkle with rage, and overcome with 
 terror, I took his arm and said to him. “ Gontran, remember your 
 promise.” But he repulsed me almost harshly, and replied, “ Let 
 me alone — I know what I have got to do.” And then going close 
 up to M. de Mortagne, he said to him in a hollow voice. 
 
 “ I put up with your outrages and threats sir, as long as I had 
 reasons for so doing, those reasons now exist no longer, and I must 
 insist upon your giving me satisfaction now that Mademoiselle 
 Mathilde is my wife.” 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran took Gontran by the hand, and her eyes 
 glittered with an expression of infernal malice. She said pointing 
 to M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ That person must henceforth be sacred and inviolable in your 
 eyes, do you hear ? Whatever he says or does, you must endure 
 everything from Aim.” 
 
 “ I must endure everything ?” replied Gontran, te and why then 
 must I do so ?” 
 
 “ Why ?” And Mademoiselle de Maran glaring like a rattlesnake 
 upon me and M. de Mortagne, said with that fearful smile of hers — 
 “ You must endure everything from M. de Mortagne, my poor 
 Gontran, for a very simple reason, because one must not fight a 
 duel with — the father of one's wife” 
 
 “ M. de Mortagne was thunderstruck — Gontran stared at him with 
 stupefaction. As for me, for a few instants I did not understand the 
 full and frightful force of Mademoiselle de Maran’s execrable words. 
 Then, when they shot through my mind like a scathing dart of fire, 
 I had only force to exclaim, “ Oh, my mother !” and fainted im- 
 mediately. 
 
 ********* 
 
 Years have passed, my friend, since that horrible scene, many and 
 bitter tears have I shed when I thought of it, and even now I weep 
 while I retrace it. Oh, my mother ! My mother ! Holiest of 
 women ! Thou whose angelic virtue shone with so pure a ray that 
 the monster who .caused thy tedious agony did not even dare to 
 calumniate thee in thy life time ! Oh my mother ! Long, long, 
 indee 1 must your ashes have grown cold, before a sacrilegious hatred 
 could have dared to profane your memory. 
 
 ********* 
 
 Such was my childhood, such was my early youth, till the period of 
 my marriage. My spirit feels so broken, so despairing, all these 
 memories of the past have distracted me with such various emotions, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 165 
 
 that I must recollect myself a little before I proceed to relate to you 
 the second period of my existence. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 love’s retreat. 
 
 When we came out from the chapel of the Luxembourg, after the 
 celebration of my marriage with M. de Lancry, what was my as- 
 tonishment at beholding a carriage and post-horses in waiting ! 
 Madame Blondeau was seated behind, and M. de Lancry ’s valet 
 de chambre opened the door. 
 
 u Where are we going to T I asked Gontran, — “ Will you trust 
 yourself with me ?” he replied with a smile. 
 
 I got in, delighted at the thought that I should doubtless see no more 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. Her atrocious and insane calumny against 
 my mother had put the finishing stroke to my aversion for her. 
 
 In vain had Gontran pointed out, that her conduct was no longer 
 malice but actual madness, and that suspicions so odious fell to the 
 ground of themselves, I still felt that it would be impossible for me 
 to meet Mademoiselle de Maran from that time forward. 
 
 The carriage set off at a rapid pace. During the three hours that 
 our journey lasted, nothing could exceed the delicacy of Gontran’s 
 attentions to me, he spoke but little, and the words he uttered were 
 remarkable for a touching kindness that was almost grave and solemn 
 in its tenderness. Doubtless he thought, as I did, that a dreamy and 
 melancholy kind of meditation can alone initiate us into the full 
 enjoyment of the greatest felicities. 
 
 Nothing can be more serious, nothing more pensive than hap- 
 piness, when it attains the ideal in its intensity. I was touched 
 even to tears by the expression of protecting tenderness with which 
 Gontran often gazed at me. Never, I think, did my soul feel more 
 exalted, never did my bosom beat with more generous impulses. I 
 reflected, with enchantment, on all the great and holy duties which 
 I now had to fulfil. I contemplated the future with a calm and 
 proud serenity, and I waited with a pious impatience for the 
 moment when I should be able to prove to M. de Lancry what 
 boundless treasures existed in my heart. Nay, when I thought 
 that perchance by force of love, I should become indispensable to 
 the happiness of Gontran’s existence, I experienced for a moment 
 the mad ardour, the glorious intoxication, the magnificent pride 
 which ambition must excite in men. 
 
 We arrived at Chantilly. 
 
 It was the end of April. The sun, which had not yet half its 
 
186 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 rays, shone with a gentle and tepid light. To my great surprise,- 
 our carriage entered the forest, and went along by the picturesque 
 fish ponds of the Reine blanche, and reached the border of those 
 woods which skirt the desert. 
 
 M. de Lancry assisted me out of the carriage, which he sent back 
 with his valet de chambre, Madame Blondeau only remained 
 with us. 
 
 G-ontran offered me his arm, smiling at my surprise. 
 
 We proceeded along a little path which was already redolent 
 with the perfumes of violets and primroses, and after a few minutes 
 we arrived at a very high and very thick hedge of hawthorn in full 
 flower, in the middle of which appeared a rustic wooden gate. 
 
 This door was opened for us by Blondeau, and we went in. 
 
 Never was there a chalet more coquettishly adorned than this 
 little house. The different compartments of its roof were covered 
 with pots of flowers, almost buried in moss, and the garden clumps 
 were so thronged with rose trees, heliotropes, jessamines, stocks, and 
 privet-leaved lilacs, that the parterre was like one immense flower 
 vase, or one gigantic nosegay. 
 
 Our cottage was laid out on the ground floor, and there was a 
 little drawing room as you went in, where, to my infinite surprise, 
 I saw my own piano, my own harp, and the books which I had left 
 the day before at the Hotel de Maran. It was almost miraculous. 
 
 On the right were two little rooms for me, on the left two for 
 Gontran, and at the bottom of the garden was a rural wooden 
 little building, which contained Blondeau’s room, and our kitchen. 
 
 It would be as impossible to describe the incredible, the almost 
 fairy eloquence of this miniature Eden, as it would be to paint my 
 gratitude to Gontran, or my childish delight at hearing we were 
 going to reside there for some time. 
 
 M. de Lancry laughingly asked Blondeau whether she were clever 
 enough to cook our dinner every day. 
 
 My gouvernante replied, with a most conceited look, that her culi- 
 nary skill would astonish us. We were to have no other servant 
 during our residence in the cottage. 
 
 Need I tell you how much I appreciated this delicate attention of 
 Gontran’s ? 
 
 It was hardly three o’clock, so I set off arm in arm with my 
 husband to take a long walk in the forest The sun had by degrees 
 broken through his veil of clouds, the balmy air was saturated with 
 the thousand odours of spring, the leaves — yet in all the tenderness 
 of their early verdure — quivered beneath the gentle breath of the 
 zephyr, birds of every kind were chirping, fluttering, and pursuing 
 one another among the leaves of the noble forest trees, and their 
 joyous little twitterings were the only sounds that disturbed the 
 profound silence of the forest. 
 
THE OHPIIAN. 
 
 187 
 
 My heart expanded in my bosom, and I inhaled, with ineffable 
 avidity, all the perfumes and all the sweet emanations of nature. 
 
 I leant still more upon Gontran’s arm, we walked along very 
 slowly, scarcely exchanging, from time to time, a few interrupted 
 words. 
 
 For a moment I tried to recal some of the impressions of my 
 early youth, but strange to say, I found it almost impossible. The 
 past appeared like a vague and half veiled dream, which was escap- 
 ing from my remembrance. I have never been able to account for 
 this extraordinary sensation. Were my faculties then so completely 
 invaded by and absorbed in my present felicity, that I lost even 
 the memory of days gone by ? Gradually these feelings became so 
 acute that I half closed my eyes, and could scarcely take another 
 step, in spite of myself my head drooped languidly down upon 
 Gontran’s shoulder, and I clasped my two hands upon his arm. 
 
 Gontran who was, doubtlessly, no less moved than myself, stood 
 still, and did not offer to interrupt this inexplicable and overwhelm- 
 ing emotion. 
 
 “ Forgive me,” I said, after a few minutes silence. “ I am very 
 weak, and very childish, am I not ? But what can I do 1 so much 
 happiness is too great for my strength to bear. Oh ! how happy 
 you ought to be, in inspiring a love so intense.” 
 
 “ You are right, Matilda, for to inspire is to feel. It is for me 
 to ask you to forgive my silence. And yet — no — silence itself is 
 a sort of language, so many things does it express which mere 
 words are powerless to paint. Tell me, Matilda, what words could 
 do justice to our feelings ?” 
 
 “ Oh ! how true that is, I too think that the tongue should be 
 silent when the heart is holding conversation with the feelings. 
 But good heavens,' 5 I added with a smile, “ you will think all this 
 very metaphysical, very ridiculous. You see how right you are — 
 I attempt to explain these adorable sensations, and I talk nonsense. 
 Let us continue our walk, and leave our two hearts to commune 
 together in silence.” 
 
 The sun was beginning to go down when we returned to the 
 cottage, which was already almost buried in the shades of evening, 
 so thick was the foliage of the trees which surrounded it. 
 
 We were delighted to find a cheerful and sparkling fire, of pine 
 seed, in the drawing-room, which Madame Blondeau had taken the 
 precaution to light, as the spring evenings were still cold. A little 
 table, charmingly laid out for our dinner, was placed near the 
 fire-place. 
 
 Gontran fairly confessed that he felt extremely disposed to do 
 credit to my gouvernante's culinary skill. Blondeau had excelled 
 herself upon this occasion, our dinner was a very gay ©ne, and we 
 waited upon ourselves. I tried to anticipate Gontran’s wants, and 
 
188 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 he mine, which led to all kinds of playful discussions, in which he 
 invariably concluded by giving in. 
 
 After dinner he opened the door of the drawing-room, and 
 rolled up a great arm chair, on which I sate down. 
 
 “ Look what a beautiful evening it is,” he said. A lovely moon- 
 light was casting its silvery illumination upon our little garden, and 
 on the summits of the surrounding trees. 
 
 A breathless silence pervaded the forest. Above us the stars 
 were glittering in the vaults of heaven, and around us burst forth 
 the perfumes of a thousand flowers. 
 
 Gontran sat down at my feet. His noble and handsome counten- 
 ance was turned towards me, and a pale moon -beam played upon 
 his forehead and his hair. He held one of my hands in his, and 
 gazed at me with a kind of ecstasy. Strange contradiction of 
 human nature ! At that instant, I believe, I had attained the 
 highest pinnacle of happiness : the man I loved with all the powers 
 of my soul, was at my feet, the mysterious calmness of a lovely 
 night still more increased my enchantment, and yet, at that very 
 instant, an indescribable expression of sadness shot across my 
 heart — and I wept. 
 
 Gontran beheld my tears, and his eyes were soon moistened also. 
 I pressed my drooping forehead to his, and our tears mingled 
 together. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! whence sprang those tears ? Are we then so 
 miserably endowed by nature, that certain felicities crush us by 
 their very weight % Or is the involuntary melancholy which those 
 felicities inspire, a presentiment of their brief duration 1 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 What shall I say of those blessed days which passed so happily 
 and so rapidly ? what shall I say of that existence all of love and 
 solitude which God himself encompassed with all his splendours ? 
 for the finest weather smiled upon our retreat. 
 
 A sketch of one day will enable you to understand my bitter re- 
 grets when I was compelled to abandon that enchanting ex- 
 istence. 
 
 Every morning, after having admired my basket of jessamines 
 and heliotropes, which had never failed to greet me when I first 
 awoke, and which Gontran took a pleasure in plucking himself 
 from our garden, every morning we set off very early to take a 
 walk in the forest, it was a delight to us to tread underfoot the tall, 
 dewy blades of grass, to enjoy the aromatic perfumes of the 
 various plants, and to see the stags and the hinds retreating into 
 the densest recesses of the woods. 
 
 I then would often sit down at my piano, to sing, with Gontran, 
 
THR ORPHAN. 
 
 189 
 
 certain duets, certain airs, which were associated in our hearts with 
 tender recollections. At other times we read, Gontran had a 
 delightful voice, and I was never wearied of hearing him read 
 some of my favourite poets.. These delicious occupations were 
 intermingled with long conversations, projects for the future, and 
 pleasant glances already thrown back upon the past. As the dinner 
 hour approached, we retired to our respective toilets, in which we 
 employed as much taste and coquetry as if we were living in a 
 chateau full of company. Gontran 1 s praises and flatteries possessed 
 an infinite value in my eyes, and I delighted in dressing my own 
 hair, in order that I might be indebted to myself alone, for all the 
 commendations which I should obtain from him. 
 
 Notwithstanding our experience of Madame Blondeau’s skill, 
 M. de Lancry who made no secret of his partiality for good living, 
 had sent for his cook to Chan Lilly, by means of a cantine de chasse 
 admirably fitted up, our dinner was sent every day from that village 
 with ice and fruits, and Blondeau had only to wait upon us at 
 table, Gontran also kept some horses at Chantilly. After dinner 
 our carriage came for us, and we took long drives in the magnificent 
 alleys of the forest. Sometimes we would return by moonlight, 
 absorbed in the most delicious reveries. We entered our little 
 cottage, the carriage was dismissed, aud Blondeau brought up tea. 
 Oh ! what long and delicious evenings we spent thus, with our 
 drawing-room door open, while we revelled in all the beauties of 
 those spring nights, whose silence was only interrupted by the 
 gentle rustling of the leaves. Oh ! what enchanting hours we 
 spent thus, hours, during which I listened to Gontran’s account of his 
 life, his early youth, the battles in which his father had borne a part, 
 who had been one of the heroes of La Vendee, and died valiantly 
 fighting for his religion and his king, in the wild landes of Brittany. 
 
 With what insatiable curiosity I questioned Gontran about the 
 war in which he had served himself, and upon the dangers which he 
 had incurred. The more insight I acquired, thanks to his con- 
 fidence, into his past life, the more I became convinced of the 
 frivolity and injustice of Madame de Richeville’s and M. de Mor- 
 tagne’s accusations. They described Gontran to me as a man of 
 uncertain disposition, selfish, harsh, thoroughly blase and incapable 
 of comprehending the delicacy of an elevated affection. With 
 what joy, with what pride was it that I found Gontran on the con- 
 trary, full of gentleness, attentions and tenderness, and endowed 
 above all, with the most perfect, the most exquisite tact. 
 
 * * * * * * * * * 
 
 This happiness had endured for three weeks. One evening at 
 tea, Gontran said to me with a smile. 
 
190 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 Matilda, I have an important proposal to make to you !” 
 
 “ Oh ! tell it me, love, tell it me.” 
 
 “ Will you prolong’ our residence here for a little while 1 that is 
 to say if this solitary existence does not displease you.” 
 
 “ Gontran ! Gontran !” 
 
 “ You consent then ?” 
 
 “ Consent ! yes, with joy, rapture. But, Gontran, your indul- 
 gence will spoil my whole life, once mingling- again with the world, 
 how great will be my regrets, how great my sacrifices ! And why ? 
 and for whom ? good God !” 
 
 “ Y ou are right, Matilda,” said Gontran, with a sigh. “ Why ? 
 for whom h There are so many enchantments in an existence like 
 this ! and yet we must leave it to throw ourselves into that sparkl- 
 ing abyss which is called the world.” 
 
 “ But what compels us to do so, love ? Of what use are riches 
 except to enable us to live as we like ? But no — you only say that, 
 Gontran, out of kindness to me. You are still too young, too 
 brilliant to renounce the world.” 
 
 “ Poor girl,” said Gontran with a gentle smile, “ on the contrary, 
 it is you who are too young to deprive yourself of pleasures which 
 you scarcely know. This life which you now find so enchanting, 
 would, if much prolonged, become distasteful to you from its 
 monotony.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Gontran, you tell me I am beautiful — will you get tired 
 of my beauty then 
 
 “ Matilda, what a difference.” 
 
 Gontran was interrupted by a noise of footsteps and voices, 
 quite unusual in our peaceful retreat. The voices came from the 
 other side of the hedge, it was eleven o’clock at night, and I be- 
 come uneasy. 
 
 “ I will go and open the door,” said Gontran. 
 
 “ Good God ! love be cautious.” 
 
 “ There is nothing to fear. This forest is traversed during the 
 whole night by the Duke de Bourbon’s keepers.” 
 
 “ It is I, monsieur le vicomte, Germain.” 
 
 It was a groom of M. de Lancry’s. My husband opened the door. 
 “ What do you want ?” 
 
 “ The chasseur of M. le comte de Lugarto has brought a letter for 
 M. le vicomte. He has ridden the whole distance. He knew where 
 we were stopping at Chantilly with the horses, so he came to us, 
 and desired us to conduct him to monsieur , as he had a letter of 
 importance to deliver.” 
 
 “ Where is the man V 
 
 “ There, behind the door, monsieur le vicomte .” 
 
 “ Show him in.” 
 
 By the light of the drawing-room lamp I beheld a tall man in the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 191 
 
 dress of a courier. I know not why, but his countenance appeared 
 to me a sinister one. He took off his cap and gave a letter to M. 
 de Lancry. Gontran, since the arrival of this man, seemed greatly 
 annoyed, indeed almost overcome. He approached the lamp, opened 
 the letter, and read it rapidly. Twice he frowned and seemed to me 
 to repress with difficulty a movement of impatience or rage. When 
 he had read the letter, he tore it up, and said to the courier — 
 
 “ Very well, tell your master I will see him to-morrow at Paris.” 
 Then addressing his groom, M. de Lancry added — “ Tell Pierre to 
 bring the travelling carriage here to-morrow morning. The rest of 
 you must set off to-night for Paris with the horses and the caleche. 
 When you' arrive at the hotel, tell them to have everything ready, 
 as I shall be there in the course of the day.” 
 
 When the two servants were gone, I said to Gontran with un- 
 easiness : 
 
 “ You appear annoyed love, what is the matter V 
 “ Nothing, 1 assure you — nothing. It is merely a rather impor- 
 tant service, which one of my friends, who has just come from 
 England, requires at my hands. This will compel me to be at Paris 
 sooner than I intended.” 
 
 “ What a pity to leave this retreat,” I said to Gontran, unable to 
 restrain my tears. 
 
 “ Come, come,” he said gently. “ Matilda, you are really 
 childish.” 
 
 “ But we shall come back ! Oh, yes, shall we not ? This little 
 house will ever be for us a loving, a sacred remembrance !” 
 
 “ Certainly, certainly, Matilda : but I must leave you now. We 
 must set off very early to-morrow, I am in a b|trry to get to Paris. 
 You must have some orders to give to Madame Blondeau. I will 
 go and take a walk, for I have a little headache,” 
 
 “ Let me go with you, love.” 
 
 “ No, no, you need not go.” 
 
 “ I entreat you, Gontran, let me go — you are not well.” 
 
 “ Once more, I prefer being alone,” said M. de Lancry with a 
 slight impatience in his manner. And he proceeded towards the 
 garden gate. 
 
 I wept, and my tears were this time tears of bitterness. 
 
 I withdrew to my own room, where I awaited the return of Gon- 
 tran. He came back in about an hour, walked up and down in the 
 drawing-room for a considerable time, and then retired to his own 
 apartment. 
 
 -o- 
 
192 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 I passed a miserable night, reflecting upon the uneasiness and 
 agitation, which M. de Lancry had been unable to dissemble. I 
 rose at dawn of day, a prey to the most painful emotion. I was 
 desirous of casting a last look upon that mysterious and charming 
 retreat where I had spent so many happy moments. Alas ! was it 
 an omen '? Was so much felicity to vanish for ever ? The sky 
 which had been so clear, during so many days, was beginning to 
 veil itself in masses of black clouds, and a cold, piercing wind 
 moaned sadly through the great trees of the forest. The predispo- 
 sition of the heart is a prism which colours exterior objects with its 
 own dark or cheerful reflections. One thing I particularly remarked, 
 a childish one indeed, and yet it pierced my heart — All the flowers 
 which adorned our residence had been brought thither and trans- 
 planted, like, as it were, some rustic decoration. By degrees they 
 had drooped and withered. While absorbed in happiness, while 
 beholding everything through the brilliant rays which love cast 
 upon my existence, I had not perceived the gradual drooping of 
 those poor plants, but now, beneath that sombre sky, and reflecting 
 upon that departure which to me would be such a melancholy one, 
 I was painfully struck at the sight. In spite of myself I discovered 
 a vague resemblance between the happy days which I had passed, 
 and the existence of those flowers — poor, ephemeral things, exiles 
 from their natal soil, and without roots in their new abode, poor 
 things which instead of bursting forth every morning always fresh 
 and always lovely, were dying now of a precocious death after 
 having diffused a brief perfume, a fleeting brilliancy. I shuddered 
 when I asked myself if it was to be thus with the felicity which I 
 had tasted. Yet I was desirous of throwing off those painful re- 
 flections, which I thought were almost a blasphemy. I piously 
 gathered some heliotropes and jessamines, which I inwardly vowed 
 I would keep for ever, and the thought occurred to me that after 
 all it was madness in me to seek for melancholy omens in a state of 
 things which it depended upon myself to terminate, I resolved to 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 103 
 
 establish a gardener in our little house to cultivate flowers which 
 there at least should not perish in a few days. In a mood of 
 strange reflection I asked myself why such religious care should bo 
 bestowed in keeping up its melancholy garden of a cemetery, and 
 why those spots which are hallowed by memories of happiness and 
 love should not be treated with the same pious and touching atten- 
 tions. When I re-entered the house I found Gontran, who seemed 
 still more gloomy than the night before. The carriage now drove 
 up, and we set off. 
 
 M. de Lancry said not a word of regret at leaving our little 
 cottage abandoned to the care of one of his men, and his silence 
 hurt me. Presently Gontran said to me : 
 
 • f Matilda, to-morrow I shall introduce to you one of my best 
 and most intimate friends. M. Lugarto, who has just arrived from 
 London. It is in order to render him a rather important service 
 which he requires, that I leave Chantilly. We shall see a good 
 deal of Lugarto, I am very fond of him, and I wish you tG give 
 him a warm reception.” 
 
 “ Although M. Lugarto be the cause of our sudden return to 
 Paris.” I said with a smile to M. de Lancry. “ I promise you 
 that I will forget this great injury, and that I will receive your 
 friend as you desire. But you never mentioned him to me before.” 
 
 “ I was at the same time so absorbed in my love and so 
 detached by it from everything else,” gracefully replied Gontran, 
 
 “ that there are many things which I have never told you. I had 
 left Lugarto in London, he is a very idle fellow, writes but seldom, 
 and the conversations I was enjoying were too delicious to allow of 
 my troubling myself about the ungrateful fellow’s long silence.” 
 
 “ But, Gontran, do you know you must be very fond of M. Lu- 
 garto indeed, to make such a sacrifice to him as you are now doing ? 
 We were so happy in our retreat.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, certainly we were, but on the other hand, Lugarto 
 formerly rendered me some very great services, I will tell you the 
 whole story some day.” 
 
 “ Oh ! if that is the case, love, if you are acquitting a debt of 
 gratitude, I shall not complain any more ; besides I have a project 
 of my own, and in my turn I shall ask a favor of you, to which I 
 attribute a vast importance.” 
 
 “ Speak, speak, Matilda.” 
 
 “ Well then, you must promise me to come and spend a few days 
 every month, in our little cottage at Chantilly.” 
 
 Gontran looked at me with astonishment. 
 
 “ Why the cottage does not belong to me,” he replied. 
 
 A pang of pain shot through my heart. 
 
 “ What do you mean ?” I enquired. 
 
 “ Good heavens, nothing can be simpler. I had desired n y man 
 o 
 
194 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 of business to find out some little house at Chantilly, or in some* 
 retired place, and to hire it for the season ; he ferretted out this 
 little cottage which was almost buried in the forest. I came to look 
 at it, I thought the situation perfect, and I sent down my up- 
 holsterer who has great taste as a decorator, for, as you may have 
 seen, he has transformed a frightful hovel into a real opera chalet. 
 This was the more convenient, as the proprietor of this hovel and 
 of a few acres of land which belong to it, was about to sell them to 
 the Duke de Bourbon. As soon as everything has been taken 
 away which we have left in the cottage, it will be pulled down. I 
 only hired it for four months, and there are, I believe, about three 
 weeks to come of our term.” 
 
 Alas ! Gontran’s words cruelly recalled to my mind the remark 
 I had that morning made, upon the factitious splendour of our 
 garden’s ephemeral flowers. M. de Lancry, without intending 
 it, caused me the most acute pain. That “ man of business,” that 
 “ upholsterer,” that hiring for a “ term,” all those expressions came 
 one by one to destroy all my cherished recollections. Cer- 
 tainly I was not mad enough to wish to escape from the realities of 
 life, but still I fancied that that little retreat ought to remain sur- 
 rounded with all its magic, with all its poetry, and that without 
 foolish extravagance, it might be preserved inviolate for ever. I 
 did not accuse Gontran, absorbed as he was in present happiness, 
 he might neglect the future, and I reflected that to us women was 
 especially and peculiarly reserved the worship of the past. 
 
 “ Gontran,” I said to him, “ I am quite proud of an idea, which 
 has never occurred to you, although your heart is one so ingeniously 
 inventive.” 
 
 “ Speak, my dear Matilda.” 
 
 “ We must immediately purchase the house and the little field 
 which surrounds it, since, luckily, it is not yet sold to the Duke de 
 Bourbon.” 
 
 “ What are you thinking about, Matilda ? The Prince has 
 agreed to pay a fitting sum for the acquisition. The proprietor 
 would only deal with us upon the same conditions as with the Prince, 
 and in such circumstances the pretensions of those sort of people 
 are always exorbitant.” 
 
 “ But, after all, what is it worth ?” 
 
 “ How can I tell ? perhaps thirity or forty thousand francs, per- 
 haps even more, for it is impossible to assign a reasonable price to 
 a fancy thing of that sort.” 
 
 “ What, is it not dearer than that V I joyfully exclaimed. 
 
 “ Child !” replied Gontran, tenderly pressing my hand. 
 
 “ But what are thirty thousand francs compared to — ” 
 
 “ Listen, Matilda,” said M. de Lancry, interrupting me with 
 kindness, “ since we are upon this subject let us converse a little 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 195 
 
 rationally, let us talk over ‘ household expenses ,’ (as people say), it is a 
 very tiresome but nevertheless a very necessary subject, and besides 
 I wish to know whether the arrangements I have made will 
 suit you ?” 
 
 “ Go on, love, but you shall not escape our little house, I shall 
 return to that subject presently.” 
 
 Gontran shrugged his shoulders with a smile, looked at me, and 
 continued : 
 
 11 You are aware, Matilda, that our position in society entails 
 upon us the necessity of keeping up a suitable establishment, 
 worthy of our fortune, and one which will enable you at last to 
 enjoy the pleasures so natural to your age.” 
 
 “ Our cottage — that is all the establishment which my heart 
 wishes for.” 
 
 “ Matilda, do let us converse seriously. I have thus arranged 
 the in-doors portion of our establishment : we must have a maitre 
 d' hotel, a valet de chambre for you, another for me, four footmen 
 for the ante-chamber, and — ” 
 
 “ But I assure you, love, I should, for my part, far prefer to re- 
 duce the number of servants, and to preserve our little paradise.” 
 
 “ Do be reasonable. We must first, my dear girl, talk about 
 necessary expenses. You must have four carriage horses and your 
 own coachman, I must have a couple of harness and two or three 
 saddle horses, and my English grooms, and two maids for you, 
 without reckoning Blondeau ; a cook and his assistant, will com- 
 plete our domestic arrangements. Excuse all these details, my dear 
 Matilda, but when we have once settled all this, we will not mention 
 it again.” 
 
 “ I am all attention, love, and presently you shall hear my ob- 
 servations.” 
 
 “ We will reside at the hotel Rochegune during the winter, we 
 will then go to some watering place, or into Italy, so that we may 
 get back to your country estate de Maran , towards the end of 
 September, for the shooting season ; we will remain there till the 
 end of January, when we will return to Paris. You will choose 
 your own nights for an opera box, one at the opera, and another 
 at the Bouffes. And if you think a thousand francs a month suf- 
 ficient for your toilet, we will fix upon that sum.” 
 
 “ But, love — ” 
 
 • ‘ One word more, my dear Matilda, and I have done. You see 
 our establishment will be a remarkably simple one, in our station, 
 of life we could not do with less, and now don’t be angry with me 
 if I come to those horrid figures of arithmetic, Your fortune 
 amounts to about a hundred and thirty thousand francs a year, 
 therefore, 'with what remains of mine, we may reckon pretty nearly 
 upon an income of a hundred and fifty thousand francs, but after 
 o 3 
 
196 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 deducting the purchase money of the hotel Rochegune, various 
 deficits which may occur, and the spare cash which we ought 
 vigorously to reserve, in order to meet any unforeseen emergencies ; 
 after that we ought not to calculate for certain upon more than about 
 a hundred thousand francs. Well then, my dear Matilda, we must 
 have no more, or no less than that, in order to keep up our estab- 
 lishment upon the footing which I have described. You see then, 
 we only possess enough for what might be called, the necessities of 
 luxury, without anything superfluous, for all the expenses which 
 I have enumerated to you are absolutely indispensable.” 
 
 “ No fault, love, can ever be found with any thing which you do, 
 although I think we might certainly live very happily without sac- 
 rificing so much to the necessities to which you allude, but whatever 
 you wish is right, I only desire to see through your eyes, and to 
 think with your thoughts. Only, I am determined, even if for that 
 purpose I should have to encroach upon the allowance you make 
 me, I am determined, do you hear ? absolutely determined to have 
 my little cottage at Chantilly, that, to me, is the most indispensable, 
 the most necessary, the least superfluous of all expenses, it shall 
 be the luxury of my heart. We will go on a delightful little pil- 
 grimage there now and then, with no other suite but poor 
 Blondeau.” 
 
 “ Well, well, be easy upon that score, we will talk of that 
 another time, little obstinacy,” said Gontran gaily. “ Ah ! by the 
 bye, I quite forgot one thing, we must send our architect to your 
 chateau de Maran. No one has lived there for the last twenty 
 years but your bailiff, the place must be quite in ruins.” 
 
 “ No doubt it is, and then a chateau is such a great large place ! 
 I tell you what it is, love, even if you scold me, your cottage has 
 spoilt me. “ Ah ! how heavy and tiresome the spring will appear 
 to me at Paris, compared to that beautiful spring which smiled at 
 Chantilly. Confess that I bear malice, for I really cannot forgive 
 your friend the sacrifices which you are making to him.” 
 
 “ Talking of Lugarto,” said Gontran. “ You must excuse his 
 manners, which are of rather a cavalier kind, and not always such 
 as are suited to the most refined company. He has always been so 
 spoilt.” 
 
 “ What do you mean V 
 
 “ Why, upon second thoughts, Matilda, I cannot do better than 
 give you, as near as I can, a portrait of Lugarto, so that you will at 
 least be able to recognise him when I introduce him to you. Lugarto 
 is hardly twenty three years old : and is of Brahmin origin. His 
 father, who was the son of a half-caste slave, was enfranchised from his 
 early childhood. This father of his, having at first been the 
 intendant of a very distinguished Portugese nobleman, managed his 
 master’s fortune so well or so badly, that he completely ruined 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 197 
 
 him, and acquired for himself a great portion of that master’s 
 property. Such was the origin of a fortune, which, considerable 
 at first, became at last a colossal one, for M. Lugarto increased his 
 property to such an extent by speculations, and grants of mines in 
 South America, that at his death he left his son more than sixty 
 millions. The old Lugarto had lived in the Colonies with all the 
 luxuriousness and depravity of a satrap. Profoundly corrupted, 
 boasting of principles the most cynical and disgusting, and no less 
 cowardly than brutal, he had, it is said, so ill used his wife in one 
 of his fits of ferocious passion, that she died from the consequences 
 of his violence.” 
 
 li But such a man was a monster !” I exclaimed. “ The memory 
 of such a father must be a melancholy and cruel inheritance. His 
 son must be much to be pitied in spite of all his millions !” 
 
 11 And the more to be pitied,” said Gontran with a bitter smile, 
 “ because his father set him the most hideous example. At fifteen 
 years of age, the master of a royal fortune, Lugarto grew up 
 amongst excesses and flatteries of every description. At twenty, 
 he already experienced the satiety of old age, thanks to his abuse 
 of all which gold can procure. Naturally frail and delicate, with 
 a constitution worn out before its development, there is nothing 
 young about him but his age, and his very countenance, in spite of 
 some agreeable features, has a kind of morbid, withered and con- 
 vulsive appearance, which reveals the existence of precocious in- 
 firmities.” 
 
 I listened to Gontran with astonishment, while he was describing 
 M. Lugarto, his voice had a tone of biting irony, and he appeared 
 to delight in his gloomy portraiture of the man’s character. For 
 one moment I was on the point of making this observation to 
 Gontran, but some scruple, though I know not what, checked me, 
 and he continued thus — 
 
 “ Morally speaking, Lugarto is profoundly depraved, without 
 faith, courage, or kindness, and accustomed to hold all men in 
 sovereign contempt, because nearly all have paid the most servile 
 adulation to his wealth. At one time, prodigal to madness, at 
 another, sordidly avaricious, his expenditure has but one moving 
 spring — vanity : but one purpose — ostentation. The most wily 
 lawyer is ndt more skilled in business, he manages, unassisted, his 
 colossal fortune Avith incredible sagacity and adroitness, and he 
 daily increases his riches by the most dishonorable speculations. 
 The very image of his father, in him the mean rapacity of the slave 
 still contends with the ridiculous vanity of the freed man, this double 
 nature is betrayed in everything, his luxury which is punctiliously 
 regulated, his clamorous, yet mean ostentation, everything even to 
 the droAvsy charities Avhich he pompously bestows without com- 
 prehending or compassionating the misery which he alleviates. 
 
198 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 And yet two incurable wounds poison the regal opulence of Lu- 
 garto ; one is the baseness of his origin, the other, the knowledge 
 of his own instrinsic worthlessness. Accordingly, by way .of a 
 compromise which deceives only himself, he has transformed him- 
 self into a Count, and he had some absurd coat of arms fabricated 
 expressly for his use. The very adulation and vanity which exalt 
 him, torture even while they exalt ; he is well aware that all the 
 attentions which he meets with, are accorded to his fortune only ; 
 and that to-morrow, were he a poor man, he would be spit upon ; 
 at times then his fury against fate knows no bounds, but Lugarto 
 is as cowardly as he is malicious, and he revenges himself by ill 
 treating, with the most cruel brutality, those who are forced by 
 dependance to endure his violence. Women — even women them- 
 selves have not escaped his ferocity. Well, in spite of all this, in 
 spite of so many odious vices, the world has shewn him nothing 
 but smiles, and the boldest have exhibited towards him no stronger 
 feeling than indifference.” 
 
 Unable to restrain myself any longer, I exclaimed — 
 
 “ Then how dare you call such a man your friend ? why have 
 you sacrificed to him our fondest wishes ? — really Gontran I cannot 
 understand you.” 
 
 M. de Lancry, who was doubtless recalled to himself by these 
 words looked at me with with a most embarrassed air.” 
 
 11 What do you say, Matilda ?” 
 
 u I ask you how you can call M. Lugarto your friend ? I never 
 will consent to receive in my house so perverse, so odious 
 a man. And is it for him that you have so hastily quitted that 
 retreat, where we were living in so much happiness % Gontran, 
 there is some mystery here which I do not understand.” 
 
 M. de Lancry, who had recovered from his emotion, replied 
 with a smile. 
 
 “ Listen, Matilda, to a very ambitious comparison. Does not 
 the man who succeeds in taming and rendering tractable a tiger 
 or a panther, end at last by conceiving an affection, for the savage 
 brute which he has rendered gentle and obedient? Well then, 
 though poor Lugarto is not quite a tiger, there is I think, somer 
 thing of this sort of feeling in my friendship for him. Yes, 
 to me he has always been as kind, obliging and devoted, as I have 
 seen him contemptuous, spiteful and haughty to others. I own to 
 you, Matilda, I cannot help being deeply touched by the numerous 
 proofs of affection which he has displayed towards me, and, as you 
 may conceive, with the most perfect disinterestedness on his part. 
 Possessed as he has always been with the fear of being courted for 
 his wealth alone, he feels for me a confiding affection which he 
 experiences for no one else. Well then, tell me, Matilda, does 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 109 
 
 not my heart — my vanity — I might almost say my honor, com- 
 mand me to treat him with kindness 
 
 I was already sufficiently acquainted with the expression of 
 Gontran’s countenance, to remark in it a kind of constraint while 
 he was explaining to me the reason of his friendship for M. Lu- 
 garto, and on the other hand he had given way to a frank and open 
 bitterness when he was describing this man’s odious character. 
 Though unable to account for my suspicions, I felt there was some 
 secret in this, and I was only half re-assured by Gontran’s ex- 
 planations. And yet, such is the magic influence of love, that by 
 degrees, as I reflected upon what Gontran had just told me, I dis- 
 covered a fresh proof of the charms he exercised in this extra- 
 ordinary influence which he exerted over M. Lugarto. Had I 
 required any excuse in my own eyes for my inability to resist 
 the rare fascinations possessed by Gontran, might I not have told 
 myself that it was an inevitable fatality to which I must of neces- 
 sity succumb, since the most intractable and the most haughty 
 characters had been unable to escape from it. What shall I 
 say 1 so blind was my passion that M. Lugarto became almost less 
 odious in my eyes from the reflection, that he too had submitted 
 to the irresistible dominion of Gontran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WEDDING VISITS. 
 
 M. de Lancry had taken advantage of our absence, to have every thing 
 put in order at the hotel de Rochegune , and we found it quite in 
 readiness at our arrival. Although this house was a splendid one, 
 I could not overcome an impression of melancholy, when I entered 
 it. Everything, if I may say so, appeared new and strange to me 
 in this residence, and the unknown has always, had a chilling effect 
 upon me. Ursula and her husband were gone. She was to 
 spend the autumn at our country seat de Maran, M. Secherin 
 was to take her there, and to return again in order to fetch 
 her, his occupations not permitting a protracted absence. 
 
 The day after our arrival, I awoke early, and rang for Blon- 
 deau, who soon made her appearance. 
 
 “ Well,” I said to her, “ and where are my flowers V not 
 perceiving the basket of jessamines and heliotropes, which she 
 had brought me every morning since my engagement to 
 Gontran. 
 
 “ None have come this morning, madame.” 
 
 “ Impossible j” 
 
200 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ I can assure you, madame, that nothing has been brought. 
 I have just come from the ante-chamber.” 
 
 “ Once more, it must be impossible, do go back and look, I 
 implore you, my good Blondeau.” 
 
 She came back without any flowers. 
 
 “ It was childish doubtlessly, but my eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Blondeau perceived it, and said — 
 
 “ But, madame, we only arrived yesterday, and they must 
 have been forgotten.” 
 
 Alas ! yes, they had merely been forgotten, but that forgetful- 
 ness pierced me to the soul. In the superstition of my heart, I 
 attached an extreme importance and significancy to that daily 
 proof of Gontran’s remembrance. The thing was so simple in 
 itself, it was merely requisite to give an order, and to see that 
 the order was executed, and for that very reason I felt still more 
 keenly the pang which might have been so easily spared me. 
 Blondeau seeing my tears, endeavoured to console me, she confessed 
 that the fears she had once entertained of my happiness, had van- 
 ished : M. de Lancry appeared full of attentions and kindness to 
 me, and I was unreasonable to take so trivial a circumstance so 
 much to heart. 
 
 Never would I have accused Gontran. I told Blondeau that she 
 was right, that I was very foolish, and that I would dismiss the 
 matter from my thoughts. And then I reflected that perhaps 
 after all it was only the negligence of some of our servants. I 
 awaited the next morning in painful suspense — Again no basket ! 
 Never from that day did those flowers appear again. Nothing on 
 earth could have induced me to mention the subject to M. de Lan- 
 cry. Next to the pain occasioned by the neglect of certain atten- 
 tions, there is nothing more miserable, nothing more humiliating 
 for the heart than to vent its reproaches at that neglect. Though 
 1 suffered long and cruelly from a circumstance so childishly trivial 
 in appearance, I excused Gontran at the expense of my own sus- 
 ceptibility, which was doubtlessly exaggerated and unreasonable. 
 
 I was grateful to him for having at least passed gradually to this 
 forgetfulness, which was so cruel for me to endure. How many , 
 men, the day after marriage, suddenly substitute a careless and self- 
 ish negligence, for the attentions and little kindnesses of the day 
 before ! Poor idiots ! they know not of what enchanting pleasures 
 they deprive themselves for ever, for the sake of escaping some of 
 the sweet influences of love, for the sake of loving, as they call it, 
 without constraint ! they do not understand that marriage becomes 
 a monotonous, coarse, and often intolerable existence, for the want 
 of that perpetuity, of refined attention, graceful coquetry, and en- 
 chanting and mysterious delicacy ! They do not understand that 
 on those very attentions, so futile in appearance, depend often the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 201 
 
 happiness and the peace of life ! in a word, they do not feel to 
 what heart-rending humiliation they reduce a woman from the day 
 when they force her to ask herself if it is her name of wife which 
 causes thi3 hasty disappearance of kindness. They do not feel with 
 what a generous resignation that woman must be endowed who 
 does not make a fatal comparison between the watchful attentions 
 of strangers, and the neglect of him who ought to be all to her. 
 Alas ? I know the world reproaches women who feel thus acutely 
 these little lights and shades of life, with attaching an exaggerated 
 and ridiculous importance, to trifles, to mere nothings , and yet these 
 nothings almost always suffice for the happiness of women. For 
 those nothings they will blindly, proudly, joyously devote their 
 whole existence ! For those nothings they often forget the priva- 
 tions, the sorrows, the great misfortunes which befal them ; for 
 those nothings prove to them that they are valued — and loved, 
 there is one thing which ever inflicts an incurable wound on the 
 heart of woman, and that one thing is indifference or neglect. 
 And then, after all, since men in their proud self-sufficiency, treat 
 as childish, what to us is so important, is it generous on their part 
 who are so wise, who are so strong, who are so powerful, to deny 
 us a few poor attentions which would cost them so little, and which 
 would be to us a pretext at least, for loving them to idolatry ? 
 
 This long digression was, perhaps, necessary to make you per- 
 ceive how deeply I naturally suffered from Gontran’s neglect. This 
 was the first sorrow which he inflicted upon me. 
 
 This day, which had commenced so unfortunately, was destined 
 to be altogether a painful one to me. After breakfast M. de Lan- 
 cry showed me the list of wedding visits which he had caused to 
 be prepared, and said to me — 
 
 “ It is useless to put down Mademoiselle de Maran’s name, for 
 of course we shall naturally commence our round of calls by a visit 
 to her.” 
 
 I looked at M. de Lancry with stupefaction. 
 
 “ My aunt ! . you cannot mean it, love.” 
 
 “ Why not T 
 
 “ What wish me — me to visit her /” 
 
 “ Really, Matilda, I cannot understand what you mean.” 
 
 “ You do not understand me ? Ah ! Gontran.” 
 
 “ By the bye, I recollect now, you are thinking of the insane 
 calumny about your mother, but you know we agreed that this was 
 mere madness of your aunt’s. You must take people as they are. 
 Sooner than have no one to caluminate, your aunt would slander 
 herself : it is a moral infirmity of hers, which deserves as much 
 compassion as any physical one — You look astounded — and yet 
 nothing can be more simple. Would you attach the least im- 
 portance to the gabble of a madman ? certainly not, would you ? 
 
202 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN 
 
 Well then, do as I do, forget a few foolish words which were dic- 
 tated by the ravings of hatred : the noble memory of your mother 
 is above such calumnies/’ 
 
 My heart was breaking. At first I was unable to speak a word, 
 and then I exclaimed, bursting into tears — tears, which since the 
 mornmgd had been endeavouring to repress. 
 
 “ Never — never will I set my foot again in Mademoiselle de 
 Maran’s house ! Do not insist upon it, I implore you — it would be 
 impossible for me to do it.” 
 
 ct Calm yourself, Matilda, calm yourself, and be assured that I am 
 only asking of you what is just, what is necessary. I do not re- 
 quire you to see your aunt frequently, but I desire that you should 
 see her sometimes.” • 
 
 “ No, I tell you the sight of that woman would kill me— I have 
 a horror of her.” 
 
 “ All this is mere exaggeration, my dear Matilda, just reflect 
 upon this one thing : the world will be unable to account for your 
 sudden rupture with the relation who brought you up — and who al- 
 most originated our marriage. You understand this, Matilda ; all kinds 
 of commentaries and suppositions will be indulged in. Your aunt will 
 be questioned, and she, offended by this want of consideration on your 
 part, will be capable of explaining the matter after a fashion of her 
 own. You, myself, and M. de Mortagne,” added Gontran, who 
 pronounced this last name with an evident effort, “ were the only 
 persons who heard the insane and wicked words of Mademoiselle 
 de Maran. Fear then lest you should drive her to extremities, she 
 might then repeat to others, that which otherwise would remain a 
 secret with us — and in spite of its unassailable purity, the memory 
 of your mother — ” 
 
 “ And it is you — you , Gontran, who propose this to me ! Oh ! 
 what care I for the world ; what care I for the abominable slanders 
 of Mademoiselle de Maran % Do you think then, that if I am 
 ever questioned, I shall leave unknown the cause which has pro- 
 duced my eternal rupture -with her ! No — no — the most bitter 
 vengeance one can exact from slanderers is to proclaim their 
 calumnies to the world, and thus to crush them under the weight . 
 of their own infamy ! Ah ! fear nothing, Gontran, the memory 
 of my mother can brave all Mademoiselle de Maran’s base attacks, 
 and every virtuous person will approve me when I announce the 
 reason why I will never set foot again in that horrible woman’s 
 house.” 
 
 “ Matilda, you speak like a tender and devoted daughter, this is 
 natural enough on your part, but you do not know the world. 
 Believe me, the memory of your mother is now as dear to me as 
 to yourself, and it is in order to preserve that memory pure from 
 all profanation, that, in spite of your repugnance, I absolutely insist 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 203 
 
 upon your occasionally visiting Mademoiselle de Maran. Once 
 more, it is necessary, it is indispensable ; do you hear me T 
 
 As he pronounced these last words, M. de Lancry’s voice, which 
 had hitherto been gentle and affectionate, assumed a more firm 
 intonation, and his eyebrows were slightly contracted. I feared 
 that I had hurt him by my resistance, I was in despair at this, 
 but that which he, reasonably perhaps, required of me, seemed 
 to me a sacrifice beyond my strength to make. 
 
 “ Forgive me — forgive me, love,” I said, “ pity my weakness, 
 but nothing in the world can induce me to see that woman 
 again. In the name of our affection, Gontran, I implore you, 
 do not exact this from me, I could not do it.” 
 
 “ I assure you, Matilda, you can do it. It may be a sacrifice — 
 a great sacrifice, perhaps it is, but I ask it of you.” 
 
 “ Gontran, for pity’s sake !” 
 
 “ I tell you it is necessary, and that you shall do it.” 
 
 “ Good God ! good God ! do you not know then that — T 
 M. de Lancry interrupted me with a violence which he had 
 hitherto restrained, and exclaimed, stamping violently on the 
 ground. 
 
 “ I know very well what it is, to have endured the insulting 
 reproaches, and the insolent bravadoes of M. de Mortagne ! I 
 know what it is to have been treated in that manner before all 
 your family and my own, I know what it is to have repressed my 
 hatred and my longing for revenge ; in a word, I know what it is 
 to have consented, out of regard to you, not to exact satisfaction 
 from that man, although he entrenches himself behind his protection 
 of yourself! Well then, it is because I know how much all this 
 has cost me — that in return I entreat you to do what I believe is 
 strictly your duty. Once for all, blindly devoted as you will always 
 find me to every desire of yours which will not be injurious to you, 
 you will find me no less determined in refusing to yield to your 
 caprices.” 
 
 “ Caprice ! Gontran — good God ! caprice !” 
 
 “ Your exaggeration of a sentiment which is very praiseworthy 
 in itself, prevents you from judging this question in a proper 
 light.” 
 
 “ But my heart recoils, in spite of myself, what can I do ?” 
 
 “ Well then, since reason and intreaties are of no avail,” ex- 
 claimed M. de Lancry furiously, “ I declare to you that if you do 
 not consent- to accompany me to Mademoiselle de Maran’s, I will 
 find out M. de Mortagne’s residence ; I know how brave he is, and 
 I know, that in spite of his resolution not to fight, there are some 
 insults he will not endure — and if you compel me by your refusal, 
 I—” 
 
 “ I will go to Mademoiselle de Maran’s,” I exclaimed, bursting 
 
201 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 into tears, and taking my husband’s hand between my own, almost 
 with terror, and as if to tear him away from some great danger. 
 
 Some one knocked at the door of the drawing-room in which 
 we were, and I retired into my bed-room to v/ipe away my 
 tears. 
 
 I heard a valet de chambre tell my husband that the Count de 
 Lugarto was waiting for him. Gontran came to me, and with a 
 complete change of voice spoke to me affectionately and told me to 
 let him know when he should bring M. Lugarto whom he wished 
 to introduce to me. 
 
 “ But I am crying/' I said, “ for heaven’s sake let this visit be 
 postponed.” 
 
 “ Quick, quick, dry those beautiful eyes,” said Gontran, with 
 apparent gaiety, “ or I shall this minute bring you my tame tiger. 
 While you are recovering yourself I shall go and make him admire 
 our house, and I will send presently to know if you are able to 
 receive us.” 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 M. LUGARTO. 
 
 I dried my tears, and awaited this unseasonable introduction. No 
 feeling of bitterness against Gontran entered my bosom for a 
 minute. I felt assured that he looked upon things in one point of 
 view, while I did in another, doubtless I was wrong, as he said so, 
 and it was my duty to yield to his judgment. The bare idea of a 
 meeting between M. de Mortagne and M. de Lancry, filled me 
 with terror. In short, then, as invariably afterwards, when I re- 
 flected upon the cruel sacrifice I was about to make to the wishes 
 of Gontran, when I reflected upon all the sufferings which I should 
 endure in the presence of Mademoiselle de Maran, I comforted 
 myself by the thought that my husband would be pleased with my 
 resignation. Thenceforth I understood that great, that terrible 
 truth, so true that it resembles a paradox. 
 
 When a woman loves passionately, the most unjust commands, 
 the most barbarous treatment, far from diminishing her love — raises 
 it to a still higher pitch of exaltation, she piously kisses the hand 
 which strikes her, like those martyrs who in their enthusiasm of 
 pain, thanked God for the tortures which he imposed upon them.” 
 Presently a servant came from M. de Lancry to know if I could 
 receive him and M. Lugarto. I replied by a request that they 
 would come to my apartments, and a few minutes afterwards Gon- 
 tran and his friend made their appearance. The portrait which 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 205 
 
 my husband had drawn of the latter personage, seemed to me to 
 be striking in the resemblance. 
 
 M. Lugarto’s figure was slender, and he was dressed with more 
 costliness than taste. It was easy to trace in his features, though 
 agreeable ones in themselves, the primitive type of his race, his 
 complexion was pale and yellowish, his nose flattish, his eyes of a 
 glassy blue, and his hair dark. His unhealthy countenance wore 
 an expression of self-sufficiency, cunning, and maliciousness, which 
 disgusted me at first sight. 
 
 “ My love, allow me to introduce M. Lugarto, the best of my 
 friends.” 
 
 “ I bowed without being able to utter a syllable. 
 
 “ Lancry had certainly told me, madame, that you were a charm- 
 ing person, but I perceive that all his praises were far beneath the 
 reality/’ said M. Lugarto, in an easy, familiar, and patronising kind 
 of manner. 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 Gontran made me a sign of impatience, aad hastened to say to 
 his friend, with a smile. 
 
 “ I who am not so modest as Madame de Lancry, I who enjoy 
 her successes, as if they were my own, I, my dear Lugarto, confess 
 that I am delighted with your opinion.” 
 
 “ And you are right, my good fellow, for you know I do not 
 catch fire very easily. Therefore if I assure you that I never saw 
 anything more fascinating than madame, it is nothing but the truth. 
 But I shall tell you with the same frankness that it is very dangerous 
 for your friends to see so rare a treasure.” 
 
 ‘ * Ah ! take care, my dear Lugarto, after having commenced so 
 happily you are now beginning to fall into exaggeration,” said Gon- 
 tran, who was embarrassed at my silence. 
 
 I felt on the rack, making, however, a desperate effort, I said 
 with a freezing air to M. Lugarto — 
 
 “ You are just arrived from London, sir, I believe $” 
 
 “ Yes, madame, I had been to the Spring races.” 
 
 “ You behold, my love, one of the habitual victors of Newmarket 
 and Epsom. Lugarto’s race horses are celebrated in England,” 
 quickly said Gontran, to set the conversation a foot. “ Will you 
 not bring some of your stud here for the Bois de Boulogne and 
 Champ de Mars meetings ?” 
 
 “ Pooh ! your French horses are not worth taking the trouble to 
 beat, and besides none of you can afford to bet sufficiently high,” 
 contemptuously said M. Lugarto, addressing himself to me. “ There 
 is a matinee dansante the day after to-morrow at the English Em- 
 bassy, pray come to it, all Paris will be there. It will be quite 
 delightful — especially if you are there.” 
 
20G 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ I am not aware, sir, whether it is M. de Lanery’s intention to 
 be present at the British Ambassadress’s party.” 
 
 “ Oh ho ! my good fellow, you are a tyrant then, it appears, 
 since your wife waits for your orders to know where she is to go 
 to And turning to me M. Lugarto added — “ Now take my 
 advice, and as far as your own pleasures are concerned, always do 
 as you like, and put your dear Lancry at once into his proper 
 place. There is nothing more disagreeable than these devils of 
 husbands when they have once been suffered to get into bad 
 habits.” 
 
 I looked at Gontran, and the only reply I made to these im- 
 pertinent vulgarities uttered in a tone of impudent assurance, 
 was in these few words — 
 
 u Is the Musee open yet, sir V I was desirous of letting M. 
 Lugarto perceive, by this sudden change of conversation, that I 
 considered his pleasantries in extreme bad taste. 
 
 M. Lugarto, who was doubtlessly accustomed to a different kind 
 of reception, appeared piqued, and said to Gontran. 
 
 “ It seems, my good fellow, that we are playing a game of cross 
 purposes with Madame de Lancry. I am talking to her about the 
 tyranny of husbands, and she replies by a question concerning the 
 Musee” 
 
 “ Why the fact is, my dear Lugarto, that you are a rather puz- 
 zling personage, and your conversation is apt to astonish a little at 
 first, you were born a century too late, you should have made your 
 appearance in the time of the Regency — and besides, my love,” 
 said Gontran to me, “ you must not judge Lugarto by his strange 
 words, he is a good deal better than his conversation, but it is an 
 understood thing, that he may do or say anything — he has been so 
 spoilt. Come, come, Lugarto I will engage to make your peace 
 with Madame de Lancry.” 
 
 “ I should be sorry to have displeased you by a bad joke,” re- 
 sumed M. Lugarto, smiling, but with an air of constraint, and 
 without addressing me as madame, a kind of familiarity which 
 seemed habitual to him, and which I thought excessively improper. 
 I was on the point of giving him a very harsh answer, but I re.- 
 strained myself, and replied — 
 
 “ I only thought, sir, that you were in too great a hurry to 
 place me on the same footing of intimacy which exists between 
 yourself and M. de Lancry.” 
 
 “ Why, you see, one is always in a hurry to enjoy those advan- 
 tages which one desires most keenly, and I trust you will pardon 
 me from consideration of that motive,” said M. Lugarto, smiling 
 convulsively as he spoke ; and he then gave me a cold, gloomy look 
 which almost terrified me.” 
 
 I instinctively felt that I had, within the last few minutes, 
 
THE ORPHAN'. 
 
 207 
 
 created an enemy. My husband appeared deeply annoyed, and 
 desirous of renewing for the second time the conversation, which I 
 designedly suffered to drop in order to escape as soon as possible 
 from so insupportable a visit. Gontran said to M. Lugarto, 
 whose impertinent assurance was not in the slightest degree dis- 
 turbed, 
 
 “ Have you seen the hot-house into which Madame de Lancry’s 
 apartment opens ? You must give us your advice as you are so 
 great an amateur of flowers yourself. Will you come, Matilda ?” 
 I was about to refuse, but obeying an imperious sign of Gon- 
 tran’s, I accompanied him into the parlour which communicated 
 with the hot-house in question. 
 
 “ It is horribly arranged !” exclaimed M. Lugarto, when he had 
 examined it. “ Your architect knows nothing about it. It is 
 built over a vault, so that the cold air passes beneath it, and you 
 will never have the proper temperature. That is just like the 
 French, they try to ape opulence, and are compelled to be economi- 
 cal in their very luxuries !” 
 
 M. de Lancry colored up violently, but he replied with an 
 effort at self-command. 
 
 “ You are very severe upon M. de Rochegune, the former pro- 
 prietor of this house, my dear Lugarto, for on our taking posses- 
 sion we found this hot-house ready built.” 
 
 “ Rochegune ! Rochegune !” said M. Lugarto. “ I know him very 
 well, I met him at Naples. The Countess Bradini was my mis- 
 tress at that time — Rochegune got her away from me, but he did 
 not enjoy his triumph long. By means of certain forged letters, 
 and you know I am a dead hand at forging letters — the 
 husband — ■” 
 
 It is oppressively hot here, my love,” I said to M. de Lancry, 
 interrupting M. Lugarto, whose cynical remarks disgusted me — 
 “ will you return into the drawing-room ?” 
 
 “ Pardon me,” said M. Lugarto. “ I am desirous of measuring 
 this hot-house with my cane, as nearly as I can, for I should like 
 to send you some magnificent Brazilian passion flowers, and some 
 other very rare plants, which I sent for from Holland, and I must 
 see if there is room for them here.” 
 
 “ I am much obliged to you sir, sir, but I am quite satisfied 
 with the flowers which this hot-house already contains.” 
 
 “ Nonsense ! those flowers are hideous! just like that M. de 
 Rochegune’s taste. When people do have things they should have 
 them in perfection. For instance, Lancry, this very winter I 
 wished to procure some equinoctial plants from Holland, and how 
 do you think I set about it ? why I had an enormous waggon con- 
 structed, with glass windows, and fitted up inside like a hot-house, 
 with a small vapour stove, and the whole was so perfectly well 
 
208 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 arranged, that although the waggon travelled with post horses 
 all the way from the Hague, not one of the glasses was broken, 
 A couple of gardeners accompanied this travelling hot-house, in 
 another carriage, and everything arrived here all safe and sound 
 as if by magic.” 
 
 “ It must be owned that the idea was a very ingenious one,” 
 said M. de Lancry. “ But then your genius, Lugarto is decidedly 
 an inventive one.” 
 
 “ What would you have ? it is not sufficient to possess money, 
 but you must also have the talent to spend that money in a 
 proper way. There are so many people who do not even know 
 how to spend the fortune which they do not possess !” 
 
 “ Spend what they do not possess 1 you are speaking in riddles, 
 my dear Lugarto.” 
 
 “ Oh ! you think so, do you, my dear Lancry ?” 
 
 A strange look seemed to me to pass between Gontran and 
 his friend, during a silence of some seconds. My husband was 
 the first to speak, and said, smiling, but with embarrassment. 
 
 “ I understand you — in that sense you are right. But if you 
 please we will return into the drawing-room. I really fear lest 
 the heat should prove injurious to Madame de Lancry.” 
 
 M. Lugarto finished measuring the height of the wall with his 
 cane, and said — 
 
 “ My passion flowers will do admirably well in here, I will add 
 also some very rare plants of the orchis tribe, with reed baskets 
 to hang them up in. You will at least have a hot-house decently 
 supplied with flowers. It is true the house is so vilely built that 
 everything in it will die, but I shall be delighted at this, for it 
 will give me the opportunity of renewing your supply of plants 
 more frequently.” 
 
 We then returned into the drawing-room. I hoped this inter- 
 minable visit was now to end, but it was quite the contrary. 
 M. de Lancry pointed out to M. Lugarto a rather pretty view of 
 Venice, by a modern artist, and said to him. 
 
 “ You are a connoisseur, what do you think of that ?” 
 
 “ It is by no means bad. Did you give much for it ?” 
 
 “ No, that picture was sold with the house.” 
 
 “ That is the best way of purchasing pictures, for these rascals 
 of artists, who are never satisfied, charge you twice as much as 
 their daubs are worth, when you give them orders, and when they 
 know you are rich. I was formerly fool enough to pay them in 
 advance, and I had accordingly often great difficulty in getting 
 my picture out of their clutches. And such a picture ! When they 
 had once devoured the money, the hungry vagabonds did not 
 trouble themselves about anything further. But now — tit for tat 
 is my principle with these gentry, I pay them when I am satisfied, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 200 
 
 and when I am not content I make them re-touch, alter, and do 
 over again, till I am pleased. At least by acting thus, I escape 
 being robbed.” 
 
 I was indignant at this brutal insolence, and could not help 
 saying — 
 
 “ Ah ! sir, you are revealing to me one of the painful sufferings 
 of genius, which I was far from suspecting ! And can you find 
 artists who will paint for you ?’ 
 
 “ Find them indeed, yes, and first rate ones too. They toady 
 me to death when I go to their ateliers, they ask my advice even 
 for pictures which they are painting for other people, and they pre- 
 tend to listen to what I say, in order to flatter me. Upon my soul 
 I don’t know what the rascals would not do for some billets of a 
 thousand francs.” 
 
 I could not restrain myself any longer. I remembered what 
 Gontran had said to me about M. Lugarto’s rage at possessing 
 neither advantages of birth or person, and I said to M. de Lancry. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, love, this gentleman’s words put me in 
 mind of a very touching story of a great artist and a great nobleman, 
 which your uncle, the Duke de Yersac, has told me more than 
 once. It was a story about Greuze and M. de Penthievre, did you 
 not ever hear him tell it.” 
 
 “ No, at least I do not recollect it.” replied M. de Lancry. 
 
 “ Pray tell it us, I have some pictures done by Greuze, and it 
 will interest me,” said M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ The story your uncle told me, love, was as follows,” I continued, 
 addressing Gontran, “ the Duke de Penthievre was passionately 
 fond of the fine arts, and he patronized them like a great nobleman 
 worthy of understanding that there is a close affinity between 
 genius and ancestral distinction of family, because they are two 
 magnificent privileges which only God or history can bestow upon 
 upon you, and which all the treasures of the earth cannot acquire 
 or replace.” 
 
 I looked at M. Lugarto who grew red with anger, and I con- 
 tinued — “ The Duke de Penthievre then was tenderly attached to 
 Greuze, You are aware that the inexhaustible kindness of that 
 excellent prince, was only equalled by the superiority of his refined 
 and exquisitely graceful mind. When he went to inspect the first 
 pictures which Greuze did for him, and for which he paid with 
 royal liberality, he said to the great painter, with that enchanting 
 manner which is the exclusive privilege of real aristocracy — ‘ My 
 dear Greuze, I think your pictures admirable, but I have one re- 
 quest to make of you — ’ ‘ I await your orders, monseigneur.’ 
 
 ‘ Well then,’ said the prince, with a kind of timid hesitation, and 
 as if he really were asking a favor — ‘ well then, I wish you would 
 write with your own hand, at the bottom of those pictures given 
 p 
 
210 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 by Greure to his friend the Duke de Penthievre, and then posterity 
 would know that I had been the friend of a great painter !” Con- 
 fess,” I said to Gontran, while I remarked with pleasure that I had 
 not missed my mark, and that M. Lugarto could not conceal his 
 annoyance. “ Confess, that nothing could be more delicate, more 
 charming, than this conduct of the prince.” 
 
 “ Yes, charming, certainly,” said M. de Lanery with embarrass- 
 ment, making me a sign of impatience, and glancing at M. Lugarto, 
 who \tith down cast eyes stood biting the head of his cane. In 
 spite of my wish not to displease Gontran, I continued — 
 
 “ Does not such a trait as this, love, exalt at the same time, the 
 great artist who was capable of inspiring such a sentiment, and 
 the truly noble aristocrat who was capable of feeling and expressing 
 friendship in such a manner ?” 
 
 Gontran had endeavoured to interrupt me by repeated signs, 
 but I was too indignant with M. Lugarto to resist the pleasure of 
 mortifying him. I fully succeeded, as I perceived by the man’s 
 paleness, and by a fresh glance of hatred which he cast towards 
 me, a dark, cold glance which sank into my very heart like lead. 
 M. Lugarto, nevertheless, was not disconcerted, and he continued 
 with imperturbable assurance. 
 
 “ I never heard this anecdote of the Duke de Penthievre ; it is 
 a vastly pretty one, but it does not convert me. I prefer not to 
 be taken for a fool by these painting fellows, and not to give my- 
 self the trouble of having any dealings in delicacy with them. By 
 the bye I happen to have a view of Naples by Bonnington, which 
 would te just the thing as a companion to your view of Venice, 
 my dear Lanery, and I will send it you with the flowers, which I 
 have promised your wife.” 
 
 “ My dear Lugarto, I entreat you — ” 
 
 “ Nonsense, what are you making a fuss about a wretched pic- 
 ture for, and between friends too, what do you mean ?” 
 
 “ Well then, I agree with you, friends should not make a fuss 
 about a picture. Allow me, therefore, to send you my view of 
 Venice, which will be just as good a companion to your view of 
 Naples.” 
 
 “ Upon my word, my good fellow, I am fairly caught in my own 
 net, and so I will accept your present, and with so much the more 
 pleasure, because the picture comes from Madame de Lancry’s 
 apartment. Good bye, till to-night, when I shall see you for a 
 minute at the club.” 
 
 “ I hardly know, I have several visits to pay with Madame de 
 Lanery.” 
 
 “ What do I care about your visits? I tell you I must see you 
 to-night. You knoAv why.” 
 
 i( Oh ! yes, I forgot — you are quite right, I shall see you to-night 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 211 
 
 then, but it will be rather late.” replied M. de Lancry, with a cer- 
 tain air of embarrassment. 
 
 “ You are not offended/’ said M. Lugarto to me, offering me at 
 the same time his hand. 
 
 Although this English custom was not as yet very usual in 
 society, it offended me less than the audacity of M. Lugarto. 
 
 Instead of taking his offered hand, I only replied by a cold and 
 ceremonious curtsey. 
 
 “ You are determined not to make peace then 1 Well, my good 
 fellow, your wife declares war against me,” said M. Lugarto to M. 
 de Lancry. “ This is very wrong of her, for she will end by find- 
 ing out that I am not so black as I am painted. It is a clear 
 defiance, so look to yourself my good fellow, I shall perhaps be 
 forced to play the gallant to your wife in order to remove the pre- 
 judices. You see, Lancry, I do not take you unawares, like a 
 traitor, but I give you fair notice.” 
 
 “ You will always be the most crack-brained fellow that I know,” 
 replied Gontran, taking him by the arm and leading him away. 
 
 I was still more stupified at Gontran’s patience than at the 
 other’s impudence. I was endeavouring to penetrate the secret of 
 the influence which he exercised over Gontran, when the latter re- 
 entered the room. For the first time I perceived that his hand- 
 some features were disfigured by an expression of rage. 
 
 “ Good God ! madame,” he exclaimed, violently slamming the 
 door. “ I had never before seen you put into practice that 
 malicious disposition, which I had heard attributed to you in the 
 world ! But I think you might have chosen some other victim than 
 my best friend. If you had perfidiously calculated the malice of 
 each word that you uttered, you could not have wounded him more 
 cruelly. I told you yesterday, in confidence, that Lugarto bitterly 
 regretted his want of nobility, and his possessing no other value 
 but his millions, and then you complaisantly dilate upon the ad- 
 vantages of an aristocratic birth, and of genius ! ! ! In spite of his 
 smiles, he went away furious — I know him well — he is furious, I 
 tell you.” 
 
 “ What, love, do you defend him 1 Is it you, you who reproach 
 me for having made that man feel the impropriety of his manners ?” 
 
 “ God bless my soul ! madame, I told you beforehand that his 
 manners were perhaps rather too familiar, and that you would 
 oblige me if you would excuse them, on account of the friendship 
 that exists between us. I am sorry to see, that in spite of my 
 recommendations, you do everything you can to irritate him, for, 
 I repeat it, he is highly irritated.” 
 
 “ And may I ask you what cause you have to care for M. Lu- 
 garto’s anger 1” 
 
 “ 1 do not choose to alienate a friend — an intimate friend, and 
 
212 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 one to whom I am sincerely attached. Do you hear me, madame V ’ 
 
 “ Do you say, you are attached to that man, Gontran ? I would 
 fain believe you, but I cannot. There is nothing in common be- 
 tween such noble feelings as your own, and the brutality of M. 
 Lugarto. And then, I do not know why, but when you talk of 
 the friendship you entertain towards him, your features become 
 contracted, your voice has a tone of bitterness, and one would say 
 that quite a contrary feeling was at work in you towards him.” 
 
 These words, which 1 uttered almost at hazard, seemed to pro- 
 duce a terrible effect upon M. de Lancry. He stamped violently 
 on the ground and exclaimed, while his lips trembled with rage. 
 
 “ What do you mean by that, madame ? what do vou mean by 
 
 that r 
 
 I was terrified, my courage failed me, I burst into tears, and ex- 
 claimed to Gontran — 
 
 “ Forgive me, love, forgive me, I did not intend to say anything 
 that could wound your feelings, only I cannot understand — ” 
 
 “ You have nothing to do with understanding, all you have 
 to do is to obey me, without putting an interpretation of your own 
 upon my words, without searching into my secret feelings. If I 
 tell you that M. Lugarto is my friend, if I request you to treat 
 him accordingly, you ought to believe me, and to obey me without 
 reasonings or reflections.” 
 
 Do not be angry, Gontran, I will obey you, only let me tell you 
 how much it costs me to do so. This very day you have required 
 of me two most cruel sacrifices, to see again Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 and to admit into our intimacy a man whose character and manners 
 must inspire a profound aversion in all those who do not, like your- 
 self, excuse M. Lugarto with the indulgence of friendship. Once 
 more, love, do not think I will break my promise, because the sac- 
 rifice I have to make is a painful one. The greater the more pain- 
 ful, these proofs of devotion which you require from me, the more 
 clearly, I hope, will they attest in your eyes, the fervour of my 
 love. Forgive me then, dearest, the hesitation which I have dis- 
 played. Now I will do everything which you wish in this respect.” 
 
 M. de Lancry’s countenance had by degrees resumed its habitual 
 expression of gentleness, he only appeared now to be overwhelmed 
 with melancholy reflections. He took my hand, and said to me 
 with kindness. 
 
 “ It is my turn, Matilda, to ask your forgiveness for my violence. 
 But once for all believe me, oh, believe me truly, that I am asking 
 you nothing which is not indispensable for your happiness — I dare 
 not say for my own.” 
 
 “ Ah ! love, you need invoke no other reason, that one alone 
 will always be sufficient to persuade me.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 213 
 
 The carriage was now announced, and we set off to pay a visit 
 to Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE PRINCESS KSERNIKA. 
 
 M. de Lancry did not speak a word on our road to Mademoiselle 
 de Maran’s, and he seemed completely absorbed in melancholy re- 
 flections. My heart failed me when the carriage stopped before 
 the door. I implored Gontran at least to postpone the visit, but 
 he merely replied with a gesture of impatience. I saw several car- 
 riages standing in the court-yard, and I was almost glad of it, for 
 I fancied that thus the first interview with my aunt would be a 
 less painful one. What was my surprise on entering the drawing- 
 room to find M. Lugarto there ! I found also the Princess Ksernika, 
 who had been at the opera, on the night when I was there with 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, in the box belonging to the Gentlemen of 
 the Chamber. 
 
 “ Good morning, good morning, my dear girl,” said my aunt in 
 the most affectionate manner possible, and getting up to embrace 
 me. 
 
 I shuddered, and was on the point of repulsing her, but at a 
 look of Gontran’s I resigned myself. 
 
 “ Upon my word she is more beautiful than ever,” said Made- 
 moiselle de Maran, examining me with the utmost solicitude. 
 “ Well, well, that is natural enough, happiness is always so be- 
 coming. And Gontran knows better than any one how to lavish 
 that kind of embellishment.” Then addressing Madame de 
 Ksernika, she continued — “ Allow me, my dear Princess, to intro- 
 duce to you, my niece, nay, my adopted daughter, Madame de 
 Lancry.” 
 
 The Princess rose from her said, and said to me with much 
 gracefulness — 
 
 “We were beginning, madame, to think M. de Lancry very 
 selfish, but doubtless it was only the envy of the world which in- 
 duced it to blame him.” 
 
 I bowed to Madame de Ksernika, and sate down near her. 
 
 She was a very pretty woman, fair, tall, and slender, her figure 
 was enchanting, and her features, which were extremely regular, 
 almost always wore a haughty, displeased, or ennuyeed expression, 
 she usually kept half shut her large, blue, and somewhat weary - 
 looking eyes. This habit of hers added somewhat to a imperious man- 
 ner of carrying her head, gave her an air which was more con- 
 
214 
 
 THE ORPHAN., 
 
 temptuous than dignified. A Pole by birth, she spoke French 
 without the slightest accent, hut with a kind of slowness and in- 
 dolence that were almost Asiatic. Though superbly elegant she 
 took more pains with her dress than "with her person. 
 
 Scarcely had I sate down by the Princess, when M. Lugarto 
 came and sate down behind me, and said to me in a familiar manner, 
 “ Well ! are you still angry? You are determined to have war 
 then ?” And addressing Madame de Ksernika, with a glance at me, 
 he added, “ Do tell her, Princess, what I gain upon acquaintance, 
 and that it is better to have me for a friend than an enemy.” 
 
 I reddened with anger, and not daring to reply harshly, from fear 
 of displeasing Gontran, I remained silent. The Princess replied in 
 her languishing voice, and looking haughtily at M. Lugarto over her 
 shoulder — 
 
 “ You ! It would be perfectly indifferent to me, w r hether I had 
 you either for a friend or an enemy, for I should no more believe in 
 your friendship, than I should fear your enmity.” 
 
 ‘‘ Come, come, Princess, you are unjust.” 
 
 “ No, you know / do not spoil you, and I am perhaps the only 
 person that tells you the truth about yourself. You ought^ to be 
 obliged to me for it, for I don’t take the trouble of telling it to 
 everybody. Do you not think, Madame,” continued the Princess, 
 addressing me, “ that one must value people in some degree to tell 
 them what nobody else dares to do ?” 
 
 “ In that view of the case, Madame,” I replied, “ it seems to me 
 that esteem and contempt are synonimous.” 
 
 “ Tell us in what way,” said M. Lugarto to me. 
 
 “ Well then, I believe, sir, that one may speak the severest 
 truths without the least regard for the person to whom we address 
 them.” 
 
 “ Do you mean me by that ?” replied M. Lugarto with his imper- 
 turbable assurance. 
 
 You deserve that the reply should be yes,” said the Princess, 
 “ do you know I do not understand why men or women either 
 tolerate your impudent and familiar airs ?” 
 
 “ That is my secret and you shall not know it.” 
 
 You wish me to believe perhaps in some supernatural power of 
 yours — is that it ?” 
 
 “ Perhaps.” 
 
 “ You are mad !” 
 
 “ Mad am I ?” Well then would you like me to make you first 
 blush up to your eyes, and then to turn more pale than you will 
 find pleasant ?” 
 
 “ That is a very old story,” replied the Princess indolently. “ I 
 suppose you are going to propose magnetising me ? And perhaps 
 
Tilt ORPHAN. 
 
 215 
 
 you do not know what magnetism is, for you are not a savant , and 
 science is not to be purchased with money.” 
 
 M. Lugarto had been smiling for some minutes with that mali- 
 cious and convulsive smile which was habitual to him. I read an 
 expression of spiteful pleasure in his dull eyes, and he said slowly 
 and with a protracted glance at the Princess — 
 
 “ True, I am as ignorant as a savage, but there are some things 
 which nobody but myself can know, because it requires a great deal 
 of money to purchase that science.” 
 
 “ Indeed !” said the Princess contemptuously. 
 
 “ Yes, indeed. And what makes it still more 'piquant is that 
 my science makes not the slightest pretension to appearances, but, 
 like all clever people with small means, I do a great deal. Now, 
 for example, you have no idea what results I obtain, we will say 
 for the sake of argument— with a date, the name of a street, and 
 a number.” 
 
 “ Now for instance : the 12th of December, rue de VOuest , 
 No. 17, all that don’t look as if it meant anything,” continued 
 M. Lugarto, “ and yet that is quite enough to make you turn to 
 pale from crimson, as I had foretold you it would.” He then added 
 so as only to be heard by Madame Ksernika and myself. 
 
 “ Do take care, Princess, you are an object of attention, don’t 
 look at me with such a bewildered air, it is not becoming to you. 
 Your eyes are much handsomer when you keep them half shut,” 
 he added with cruel irony. 
 
 Madame Ksernika had indeed become extremely pale, and she 
 appeared, as it were, enthralled by the revelation that M. Lugarto 
 had just made to her. At this minute Mademoiselle de Maran 
 was conversing in a low voice with M. de Lancry, and remarking 
 the agitation of Madame de Ksernika, she said to her. 
 
 “ Are you ill, my dear Princess V 
 
 “ Yes, madame, I have had a dreadful headache all day,” stam- 
 mered out the poor woman, scarcely able to recover herself. 
 
 “ You see it is better to have me for a friend than for an enemy,” 
 whispered M. Lugarto to me. 
 
 He then got up. 
 
 Two fresh female visiters now made their appearance, and the 
 Princess was enabled to leave the room and to conceal her emotion 
 more easily. I was almost terrified at M. Lugarto’s mysterious 
 power. Gontron made me a sign, pointing to an empty arm-chair 
 near Mademoiselle de Maran, and I went and sate down in it. My 
 aunt said to me in a low tone of voice. 
 
 “ Do you believe I swallowed the story of that beautiful Princess 
 Micomicans headache ? I would wager that yonder white Negro ’ 
 and shewed me M. Lugarto, “ has said some infamy to her, not 
 but what she deserves it richly, for, although her husband thrashes 
 
216 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 her to his heart’s content, and has already broken one of her arms' 
 for her, the happy pair are by no means quits with each other, and 
 there is a balance of at least a second arm, and a couple of legs 
 due from her to him, that is to say if he feels disposed to break 
 one limb of hers for each of the lovers she’s had. But that don’t 
 signify, I am disgusted with this Lugarto’s impudence. I only con- 
 sented to receive the brute of a Croesus in order to give myself 
 the treat of castigating him most effectually.” 
 
 In spite of the aversion which I entertained for Mademoiselle 
 de Maran I could not help feeling grateful to her for this resolu- 
 tion. The two new visiters conversed for a few minutes with my 
 aunt, Gontran, and M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ Pray tell me, M’sieu Lugarto,” suddenly exclaimed Made- 
 moiselle de Maran, continuing to knit all the time, and in the 
 middle of one of those pauses which frequently occur in conversa- 
 tion, “ was that your carriage I saw the other day ?” 
 
 “ Why do you ask ?” carelessly replied M. Lugarto. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Maran instead of answering this question, re- 
 plied by another, and nothing, she has often told me, could be 
 more impertinent and contemptuous than such a reply. 
 
 “ If it was your carriage, how the deuce came there to be any 
 arms upon it V’ 
 
 “ They are my arms, madame,” said M. Lugarto, reddening with 
 anger, for his otherwise imperturbable impudence was at fault when 
 his ridiculous pretensions to nobility were attacked. 
 
 “ How much did those arms of yours cost you ?” said Made- 
 moiselle de Maran. 
 
 There was a moment of most embarrassing silence. M. Lugarto 
 bit his lips with a frown. I looked at Gontran who could not 
 repress a bitter smile, but at a glance of M. Lugarto’s he said 
 hastily to Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ By the bye, talking of arms, madame, would you have the 
 goodness to lend me your d' Horier 1 I want to look for an account 
 of some of our collateral branches. But, while I think of it, could 
 you not — ” 
 
 “ Don’t bother me about your collateral branches,” continued. 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. “ You are putting a stop to a most 
 interesting conversation ! Upon my word, Monsieur Lugarto, you 
 have been nicely cheated if you paid much for those arms. I 
 would lay a wager it was a bright idea of your coachmaker’s. If 
 so allow me to inform you that those arms are a perfect absurdity. 
 How could you think of trusting those sort of people to make you 
 up a coat of arms ? If you did take such a whim into your head, 
 you ought to have set about it more cleverly.” 
 
 “ But, madame — said M. Lugarto, turning pale with suppressed 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 217 
 
 " But, monsieur , I tell you once more, that your coachmaker 
 and his painter are a pair of fools. Who ever heard, in heraldry, 
 of one metal placed upon another ! Take my word for it, poor 
 gentleman, they have had a fine joke at you with their 4 stars of 
 gold in a field of silver ,’ they probably thought of that as being 
 more rich, and as an ingenious, way of recalling to mind your heaps 
 of piastres and doubloons.” 
 
 “ But, madame, it was not I who invented those arms. They 
 are the arms of my family,” said M. Lugarto, rising impatiently 
 from his seat and casting a furious look at Gontran. 
 
 M. de Lancry vainly endeavoured to interfere in the conversa- 
 tion, Mademoiselle de Maran did not abandon her victims so 
 easily. 
 
 “ God bless my soul ! God bless my soul ! indeed, are those 
 the arms of your family ?” exclaimed my aunt, taking off her 
 spectacles and clasping her hands together with the simplest ap- 
 pearance of good nature you can conceive. “ Why did’nt you tell 
 me that at once ? But stop a minute, there is one drawback to 
 that story : they say your worthy grandfather was a kind of Negro 
 slave or something of that sort.” 
 
 “ Madame, you are abusing — ” 
 
 “ And that’s the reason,/ continued Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 going on with her knitting, “ and that’s the reason why I cannot 
 picture to myself your worthy grandfather with the coronet of a 
 count stuck upon his head. With such a head dress as that, he 
 would be for all the world like one of those nasty savages who 
 carry a ring stuck through their noses, with the utmost possible 
 gravity. Don’t you think so ?” 
 
 I shuddered at the expression almost of ferocity which the 
 countenance of M. Lugarto assumed for a moment, and I was the 
 more struck by this expression, because at the same instant he 
 burst out into a nervous and forced laugh. 
 
 “ An’t that a funny comparison that I have just started ?’' said 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, addressing M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ Very funny, madame, very funny indeed, but you must confess 
 I keep my temper admirably.” 
 
 “ To be sure you do ! admirably indeed, and I am quite sure 
 that you will not owe me the least grudge. And after all you are 
 quite right, for nothing can be more harmless than my jokes.” 
 
 “ I owe you a grudge ?” said M. Lugarto. “ Ah ! could you 
 believe such a thing? Nay I will take Gontran with me im- 
 mediately so that we two may have a good laugh together at my 
 ‘ stars of gold in a field of silver.’ ” 
 
 “ And you are quite right, but don’t let that hinder you, my 
 good sir, from keeping your arms and your title, pray keep them, 
 they will do to throw dust into the eyes of passers-by. You re- 
 
218 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 quire nothing more for snobbish eyes, as your innocent pretensions 
 to nobility do not pass beyond our ante-chambers. As far as we 
 are concerned, you have in order to dazzle us, upon my word, what 
 is a great deal better than 1 stars of gold in a field of silver for 
 you unite in yourself all kinds of excellent qualities both of heart 
 and mind, all sorts of immense sciences, and ingenuous modesties, 
 so that if you were to be as poor as Job to-morrow, you would not 
 the less be a pretty, interesting kind of man, and furiously looked 
 up to, take my word for it.” 
 
 “ I fully appreciate the value of your praises, madame, I will 
 endeavour to repay you for them, and to extend, if possible, my 
 gratitude to the members of your family, and to those persons 
 in whom you feel an interest,” replied M. Lugarto with bitter- 
 ness, and casting as he spoke a look of fury at me. 
 
 “ I depend upon your promise, for I am by no means selfish,” 
 replied Mademoiselle de Maran, with a strange smile. 
 
 “ Come along Lancry,” said M. Lugarto, to my husband. 
 
 u I will see you to-night at the club as we agreed,” replied Gontran 
 impartently. 
 
 “Yes, but I had forgotten that our man from London will be 
 waiting for us at three o'clock,” replied M. Lugarto, with an in- 
 perious look. 
 
 M. de Lancry frowned at these words, he got up and said to Made- 
 moiselle de Maran. 
 
 “ Madame, I leave Matilda with you, M. de Lugarto has put me 
 in mind of an engagement which I had forgotten. 
 
 I looked imploingly at Gontran, but he avoided my gaze. 
 
 “ Lugarto will take me, “ he added,” keep the carriage, I will see 
 you at dinner.” 
 
 The two women who had been, like myself, mute inspectors of the 
 scene between Mademoiselle de Maran and M. Lugarto, took their 
 departure a few minutes afterwards. 
 
 I remained alone with Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE MARAN. 
 
 My indignation which had long and painfully been suppressed, 
 burst out at last against this woman who had dared to calumniate 
 my mother in such an atrocious manner. 
 
 “ That’s a lesson that impudent fellow will not forget in a hurry,” 
 said Mademoiselle de Maran to me. “ He will be so much the more 
 enraged, because I administered, and purposely too, you may believe 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 219 
 
 me, that same lesson to him in the presence of the two Countesses 
 d‘Aubeterre, who happen to be a couple of the greatest scandal- 
 mongers that I am acquainted with. All Paris will know to night 
 the history of the “ stars of gold in a field of silver.” 
 
 “ Madame,” I said, to Mademoiselle de Maran, “ You must be very 
 much astonished at seeing me in your house ? ” 
 
 “ Astonished ? and pray why my dear ?” 
 
 This excess of audacity increased my indignation. 
 
 “ Hear me, madame, nothing in the world but M. de Lancry’s 
 wish could have forced me to see you again after the frightful 
 words you dared to utter against my mother ; just now, I was afraid 
 of finding myself alone with you, but now I regret it less, for I am 
 enabled thus to express to you all the disgust with which you inspire 
 me.” 
 
 “ Matilda — you forget — ” 
 
 “ I remember, Madame, all your cruelties, I do not forget the 
 miseries with which you filled my cup to its overflowing in my 
 childhood, and youth. And yet I might have pardoned you for 
 them, in consideration of the happiness which has been my portion 
 since my marriage, a happiness to which you — though doubtless in- 
 voluntarily — have contributed — ■” 
 
 “ Involuntarily ? no my dear, I knew very well what I was about, 
 and that is exactly the reason why your ingratitude — ” 
 
 “ My ingratitude ? This is a cruel raillery Madame ?” 
 
 “Well — yes — yes — your ingratitude,” exclaimed Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, angrily interrupting me. “ Y es, you are an ungrateful wretch 
 not to have appreciated the service I rendered you in preventing 
 your husband from risking his life in a duel with that horrid M. de 
 Mortagne.” 
 
 “ Was it necessary, Madame, to have recourse to a frightful 
 calumny in order to prevent such a misfortune ? Besides, Gontran 
 had promised me — ■” 
 
 “ A fine promise indeed, which he would not have kept — while 
 now on the contrary he will respect the man whom he believes to be 
 your father.” 
 
 “Now?” I exclaimed — “what do you dare to think M. de 
 Lancry capable of believing such an abominable falsehood ? Ah ! 
 Madame, I love, dearly love my husband, I feel my affection is 
 powerful enough to resist every trial, even his desertion — and there 
 is only one occasion in the whole world on which my heart would 
 find strength to accuse him, and that would be the day when — But, 
 no, no, it is impossible, impossible ? This day he repeated again, 
 that, that frightful calumny was destroyed by its own exaggeration.” 
 “ V ery well, then, what are you grumbling about ? If Gontran 
 does not believe it, if M. de Mortagne does not believe it, what harm 
 
220 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 have I clone you ? I have perhaps prevented a sinister event, and 
 that’s all.” 
 
 “ All ? madame ? And yet you saw yourself I was unable to re- 
 sist that horrible blow.” 
 
 I could not restrain my tears while I uttered these last words. 
 My aunt got up, came to me, and assumed a tone of voice that was 
 almost affectionate. 
 
 “ Come, come, be calm, certainly I was wrong my dear, I wanted 
 to do some good after a fashion of my own, and I went about it 
 clumsily, because I am not used to it. How can I help it 1 on that 
 occasion perhaps I acted like a viper which fancied itself a leech — 
 and yet some allowance at least ought to be made for the poor viper’s 
 good intentions.” 
 
 This hideous pleasantry disgusted me. 
 
 “ I know you too well, madame, to believe in a good feeling of 
 yours, your wickedness is not even satisfied with the present but 
 embraces the future and the past. You did not utter those words 
 without calculating their result, and they concealed some odious and 
 hidden meaning which will, too soon perhaps, be revealed.” 
 
 “ Well, and what then ?” impatiently exclained Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. “ What do you want to conclude from all that ? What is 
 done cannot be undone, can it ? Gontran chooses you to continue 
 visiting me, and you will obey him. What’s the use of carping at 
 wickedness ! It is my nature and I am too old to change now. 
 Either my hatred of you is extinguished or it is not. If it is you 
 have no cause to fear me, and your reproaches are useless, if it is 
 not, all that you can say amounts to nothing. You can't hurt me, 
 and / can hurt you, so don’t attempt to combat. I can do, and I 
 know a great many things. You have seen how nicely I trimmed 
 that Lugarto, to whom the world, out of regard to his colossal wealth, 
 and from its own servility, seems to have given a patent for 
 audacity and insolence ? now he knows that when I do bite, I bite 
 sharply, and that my teeth leave their marks behind. He will hate 
 me, I expect that, but at the same time he will fear me like fire, 
 for if I take a spite against him, I will dog him, from drawing-room 
 to drawing-room, and won’t spare him. So that now I have him 
 under my thumb — the nasty fellow % Recollect then my dear that 
 he will always prefer making my enemies his own, to having me con- 
 stantly at his heels. You understand me, don’t you ? “Added my 
 aunt, giving me a look of cruel irony.” “ So I shall say no more. 
 Only don’t exhaust my patience, and behave prettily.” 
 
 I was overcome with terror — I could not articulate a word. What 
 Mademoiselle de Maran said was but too true. She alone could 
 place herself so far above all the usages of society, as to attack M. 
 Lugarto pitilessly in his vanity, and thus to tyrannise over him by 
 the dominion of terror. I shuddered when I reflected on the pos- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 221 
 
 sibility of some monstrous alliance being contracted between this 
 man and Mademoiselle de Maran, an alliance based upon their com- 
 mon wickedness and malice An invincible presentiment warned 
 me that Gontran, in spite of himself, was subject to the influence of 
 M. Lugarto. To what cause was that influence to be ascribed ? of 
 this I was ignorant. While I laboured under these suspicions, I 
 could not but acknowledge that the threats of Mademoiselle de 
 Maran were not vain ones. 
 
 Oh ! that was a frightful moment in which I felt myself forced to 
 restrain my resentment in the presence of that woman who had 
 outraged the memory of my mother. 
 
 “ Come, come, I see we are beginning to understand one another, 
 are we not ?” said Mademoiselle de Maran, with one of her sardonic 
 smiles. “ You will go to the English ambassadress’s morning 
 quadrille party, and perhaps I shall go too as Medusa — try this 
 Lugarto, and keep him in his subjection to me. Don’t you think, my 
 dear, I gave him a nice little specimen of what I can achieve ? Mind 
 you look well at his yellow-wax face to-morrow when he sees me — 
 that will amuse you and me too — perhaps I shall sacrifice this Croesus 
 to you, perhaps — it will be the other way. But I say nothing — 
 These who live will see.” 
 
 I left my aunt in a state of inexpressible uneasiness, and I re- 
 called what she had said with secret terror. I could see nothing on 
 every side but hatred, dangers, and concealed treacheries. I should 
 have preferred open menaces to Mademoiselle de Maran’s sinister 
 half-silence. 
 
 I returned home absorbed in these melancholy reflections. In an 
 instant of despair, my thoughts recurred to M. de Mortagne, and 
 than to my aunt, I could not even think of my only protector with- 
 out a feeling of pain, and without remembering the cruel scenes 
 which had preceded and followed my marriage. 
 
 My carriage stopped for a moment before it entered the Court 
 Yard, I cast, as it were, mechanically, a glance at the house which 
 was opposite our own. 
 
 At the second floor, through a window curtain which was half 
 raised, I recognised M. de Mortagne sitting in a great arm chair, 
 looking very pale and ill, he made me a rapid sign with his hand, as 
 if to say he was watching over me, and then the curtain was 
 dropped. 
 
 I had an instant of unspeakable hopefulness. I felt more strong 
 and less terrified, now I knew I had that friend near me, and I did 
 not doubt he would support me in a case of necessity. I thanked 
 Providence for the unhoped for assistance it seemed thus to offer 
 me. 
 
 M. de Lancry had not returned, and I dressed for dinner, recol- 
 lecting with feelings of bitter regret, that in our charming retreat 
 
222 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 at Chantilly, I used also to set off my beauty to the best advantage, 
 and then would come into Gontran’s presence, radiant with, and 
 proud of my own felicity 
 
 Alas ! scarcely two days separated me from that enchanting past ; 
 and already whole months seemed to me to have elapsed since that 
 happy, happy time ! 
 
 Seven o’clock struck, and Gontran was not arrived. 
 
 I did not begin to feel seriously uneasy till towards eight o’clock, 
 when I made Blondeau enquire of M. de Lancry’s valet de chambre 
 if his master had left any order ; he had not done so, and was ex- 
 pected home for dinner. 
 
 At half-past eight, unable to overcome my terrors, I ventured to 
 send a servant on horseback to M. de Lugarto’s to know if M. de 
 Lancry had not stopped there, and I wrote a note to my husband 
 imploring him to re-assure me. 
 
 M. Lugarto lived in the rue de Varennes, 1 desired that the utmost 
 expedition might be used, and I awaited the return of my messenger 
 in a state of painful importance. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards Blondeau came in, “Well ?” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ M„ le Vicomte is at M. Lugarto’s madame, and desired Jean 
 to be told, all was right, and that madame was to be informed he 
 should not be home till very late.” 
 
 I was only half re-assured by this message. 
 
 To forget me in such a manner, Gontran must doubtless be 
 seriously and painfully pre-occupied, I resolved to wait up for him. 
 
 Alas ! for the first time, I experienced that devouring anxiety 
 with which one counts the minutes, the hours ? These sudden thrills 
 of joy which are caused by the slightest noise ; and the melancholy 
 discouragement which succeeds them. 
 
 I had sent poor Blondeau to the porter’s, directing her to watch 
 for M. de Lancry’s return, and to come immediately and let me 
 know. Had it not been for the events of that day, such painful 
 anxieties would have been childish, but all that had happened ren- 
 dered them perhaps excusable. 
 
 At twelve o’clock Gontran had not come back, and then the most 
 insane, and the most exaggerated terrors took possession of me. I re- 
 membered the sinister glances which M. Lugarto had cast at Gontran. 
 Without reflecting on the improbability of what I feared. I fancied 
 M. de Lancry was in danger ; I ordered my carriage, and desired 
 Blondeau to accompany me. 
 
 “ Good God ! where are you going to, madame ?” 
 
 “ To M. Lugarto’s door you must go up and look for M. de 
 Lancry, and tell him that I am waiting for him below, I cannot bear 
 this suspense another instant.” 
 
 “ But madame, do make yourself easy.” 
 
 At this moment 1 heard an almost imperceptible noise , it was the 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 223 
 
 great gate shutting, and an inexplicable instinct told me it was 
 Gontran who had arrived. 
 
 Without thinking of what I was doing, I left my room, and ran 
 to meet my husband, whom I found in the drawing-room, which 
 formed an anti-chamber to his bed-room. 
 
 “ Here you are ! good God ! here you are ! Has nothing 
 happened to you ?” I exclaimed with a faltering voice and seiz- 
 ing his hands. 
 
 “ Nothing, nothing at all, but let us go into your room,” re- 
 plied M. de Lancry, attracting my attention, by an angry glance, 
 to his valet de chambre. 
 
 I understood the impropriety of such a scene before our ser- 
 vants, but my first movement had been an unreflecting one. I 
 was afraid of having annoyed Gontran, and my heart misgave 
 me when I alone with him. I now first remarked that he was 
 very pale, and in a state of great emotion. 
 
 “ Good God ! Gontran, what has happened to you ?” I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 “ What do you suppose can have happened to me ? Are you mad ? 
 Is it not all natural, very natural ?” he added, with a look which 
 seemed to me almost one of bewilderment, and with a sardonic 
 smile which terrified me. “ What can be more simple ? I meet 
 once more my best friend, the tiger I tamed you know. I in- 
 troduce my dear Lugarto to you, he thinks you charming, you 
 treat him with sovereign contempt. He then goes to your aunt 
 who crushes him with the most bitter epigrams. He, poor man, 
 who is naturally the best hearted, the most inoffensive, and the 
 most noble-minded fellow in the world, takes all these little in- 
 sults in good part, and laughs at them with the utmost possible 
 good humour, just as I do myself. Indeed nothing could be more 
 piquant and lively than your epigrams and those of your aunt, 
 and moreover they were so remarkably a propos .” 
 
 M. de Lancry uttered these words in a voice that spoke, as it 
 were, by fits and starts, and which was interrupted by bursts 
 of sudden and nervous laughter, he addressed me almost without 
 seeing me, and walked up and down in great agitation as if he 
 were a prey to some delirium. 
 
 “ Good God ! good God ! Gontran, you terrify me. In pity 
 speak — what is the matter 
 
 My husband suddenly stopped opposite me, passed his two hands 
 over his face, appeared to recover himself, and then addressed me 
 in a terrible tone of voice. 
 
 “What is the matter? what is the matter? You do do not 
 know then what that man is whom you have so mercilessly 
 satirised? Your infernal old aunt finished just now, what you 
 began so well this morning. Ah ! Matilda ! Matilda ! what have 
 
224 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 you doue ? Unhappy woman ! may the consequences of your im- 
 prudence be fatal to me only !” added Gontran mournfully, as he 
 left my chamber. 
 
 I was about to follow him — but, with an imperious gesture, he 
 commanded me to remain behind. 
 
 o — — - 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A MORNING QUADRILLE PARTY. 
 
 My night was a wretched one. 
 
 As soon as daylight appeared, I sent Blondeau to ask after M. 
 de Lancry. He sent me word back that he was perfectly well. A 
 little before breakfast he entered my room, with a countenance as 
 gentle and good humoured as if the scene of the night before had 
 never taken place. 
 
 I remained dumb with astonishment. He took my hand, kissed 
 it with a graceful tenderness, and said to me. 
 
 “ A great culprit has come to ask forgiveness, love.” 
 
 There was so much gentleness, so much serenity in Gontran's 
 voice, that, in spite of myself, I was almost re-assured. My hus- 
 band’s influence over me was such, that my features always, as it 
 were, reflected the expression of his, and then I so ardently de- 
 sired to see him happy that I was sure to accept, perhaps with too 
 great facility, the explanations he was about to offer of his conduct 
 the night before. 
 
 ‘‘ Forgiveness for what ?” I said. 
 
 “ It is very embarrassing, Matilda, for how is it possible* to con- 
 fess — to explain to you so great a crime V 
 
 “ A crime ! you are joking. But still, tell me — and oh ! you 
 are forgiven beforehand.” 
 
 “ I know it — you are so good, and yet I do not deserve that 
 forgiveness.” 
 
 “ What do you mean V ’ 
 
 “ Yesterday, did I not first make you uneasy by my absence, and 
 then almost terrify you by my return V 
 
 “ It is true — your agitation — ” 
 
 “ Good God ! my lovely Matilda, how dare I tell you that you 
 have been kind enough to take an interest in a naughty drunkard ? 
 There is the terrible word out at last — yes, yesterday, Lugarto kept 
 me to dinner with some mutual friends. I don’t know how many 
 toasts were drunk to my happiness and to your beauty, I neither 
 could nor would decline them. Since I gave up my bachelor life, 
 I have thank God, got quite out of the habit of those English 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 22o 
 
 kind of dinners, and so I shall take courage to make this abominable 
 confession to you, I got tipsy thinking of you ! you see it was only 
 another sort of intoxication. But alas ! the one is as enchanting 
 as the other is disgraceful. Once more, will you forgive me ?” 
 
 “ What were those reproaches you poured upon me yesterday, when 
 you returned ?” 
 
 “ What reproaches T 
 
 “ You told me that my taunts and those of my aunt had ir- 
 ritated M. Lugarto to the highest degree, that his revenge might 
 be a terrible one, and that — ” 
 
 M. de Lancry burst into such a hearty fit of laughter that I 
 believed he was sincere. 
 
 “ Unfortunate Lugarto !” he replied, “ I see I have transformed 
 him into a thorough-bred ogre. Poor Matilda ! I should laugh 
 still more if I had not made you uneasy. But, seriously, what 
 terrible revenge can you suppose Lugarto — ” 
 
 “ Why, yesterday morning, love, you seemed annoyed at my 
 harsh replies.” 
 
 “ Yes, certainly I did, for I repeat, that in spite of certain ec- 
 centricities of character, I consider Lugarto one of my best friends, 
 and as such I wish to see him sheltered from your witty attacks, 
 my charming little mischief ; but it will be a difficult matter, and 
 I see, the world will talk of the wit of the Marans, as it does of 
 the Mortemarts. Yet, I beseech you, do not be too hard on the 
 poor fellow, if not for his sake, at least for mine.” 
 
 “ But, yesterday, you also told me, that you were afraid of ir- 
 ritating him.” 
 
 “ Certainly, because then he falls into endless lamentations, he 
 reproaches me with not liking him, with a want of friendship, in 
 short, I hear nothing from him except — not reproaches, for I would 
 not tolerate them — but complaints, which make me more compas- 
 sionate towards him.” 
 
 “ And are you quite secure of his friendship ?” I asked Gontran 
 with some hesitation. 
 
 “ The more secure because it is a sentiment which he rarely 
 feels, and because he has no reason to feign it.” 
 
 I told Gontran the dialogue which I had heard between M. 
 Lugarto and the Princess Ksernika. 
 
 “ It was one of those jokes people make at masked balls, and 
 only wanted the domino,” replied Gontran, “ he wishes to amuse 
 himself with plaguing her, and with the Princess it does not the 
 least signify, for she is the best natured woman in the world. By 
 the bye if she pays you any attention pray receive it graciously 
 for she is an excellent friend when she likes, and excellent friends 
 are scarce things. Besides you will see her this morning at the 
 English Embassy.” 
 
226 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Are we going to that fete then V I said sorrowfully to M. de 
 Lancry. 
 
 u Of course we are ! The Ambassadress sent me a charming 
 letter this morning, to tell me that she had only heard yesterday 
 evening of our return, and that she hoped to have the pleasure of 
 seeing you to-day.” 
 
 “ Well, if it must be so, love, I will go,” I replied with a sigh. 
 
 ‘ • What ! sighing, Matilda ! why you will be the most charming 
 person there. It is quite a triumph to look pretty in the day time, 
 and then I am so proud of you, and of your enchanting beauty !” 
 
 “ Alas ! love, that beauty belongs to you, but I am more proud 
 of it when I make myself beautiful for no other eyes but yours.” 
 Gontran smiled and said to me, I guess what you are thinking 
 about — the little cottage again T’ 
 
 “ Thinking about my former happiness — yes, Gontran.” 
 
 “ Well then, look pretty, very pretty, prettier than all the other 
 women. You see I am asking you nothing but what is very easy — 
 and we will think of this whim of yours.” 
 
 “ Shall we ? shall we indeed ?” I exclaimed in a transport of de- 
 light. 
 
 u Silence,” replied Gontran, “ you must only whisper it to my 
 heart lest you should be heard by my reason , for she is very severe, 
 and would say No !” 
 
 Blondeau came in at this moment with a square bandbox. 
 
 “ What is that T 
 
 “ I do not know, madame, it was left at the porter’s lodge, it is 
 very light, it must be either flowers or lace/’ 
 
 I looked at Gontran who could not check a smile. 
 
 I guessed at some surprise. My heart beat violently, perchance 
 it was my beloved and favourite flowers that I was about to see 
 once more. 
 
 With one of those childish impulses which are so serious to the 
 heart of a fatalist, and with the rapidity of thought I said to my- 
 self. If I find a bouquet of heliotropes and jessamines in this box, 
 it will be a propitious omen, and to-day will be a day of happiness 
 to me, if not, this day will be a fatal one. 
 
 When I had once thrown this challenge in the teeth of fate, I 
 almost repented my rashness, and I had not courage to open the 
 box. 
 
 Gontran perceived that my hand trembled and that I was blush- 
 ing deeply. 
 
 “ Well, Matilda, what is the matter with you 1 ?” 
 
 “ Nothing, nothing,” I replied, and repressing my emotion I 
 opened the box, 
 
 Alas ! my heart was painfully oppressed, and I could scarcely 
 restrain my tears. I found no jessamines or heliotropes. The 
 
TIIE ORPHAN 
 
 227 
 
 flowers which were there in their place were certainly delicious 
 ones, and I had never before seen any like them. There was a 
 large nosegay and two branches of little purple, grape-like flowers, 
 in the centre of each flower there glistened like diamonds, a drop 
 of solid dew, if I may use the expression, and some long leaves of 
 emerald green, glazed with crimson, completed this beautiful wreath, 
 which was of the most exquisite taste, doubtless of extreme rarity, 
 and with which I should have been delighted had it not been for 
 the unlucky wish which I had previously formed. 
 
 “ How good you are !*’ I said to Gontran with gratitude. 
 
 “ They are enphorbias, a very rare flower, and just what are re- 
 quired to set off so rare a beauty,” gaily said M. de Lancry, 
 “ nothing can be more pretty, more gracefully coquettish, than 
 those two purple branches will look in the midst of your beautiful 
 fair hair under a bonnet of paille de riz ” 
 
 We arrived at the embassy. 
 
 It was a magnificent day, the ladies’ dresses were extremely 
 fresh and beautiful, and the sun’s rays, broken, and softened by the 
 foliage of the plants and the clusters of flowers which lined the 
 gallery, cast only a gentle light through the spacious apartments. 
 
 Generally nothing can be more gay, more cheerful than these 
 morning dances, where candles are replaced by the sun, and the 
 suffocating heat of winter balls is exchanged for the tepid atmos- 
 phere of spring, completely laden with the perfumes of garden 
 flowers. 
 
 Almost on my very arrival I found myself in the presence of the 
 Duchess de Richeville, who was leaning on the arm of one of her 
 female friends. I could not help blushing deeply at seeing her. 
 Gontran, however, did not perceive it. 
 
 Madame de Richeville said to him with much gracefulness, “ I am 
 going to restore you to your liberty in spite of yourself, and carry 
 away Madame de Lancry. Lord Mungo is keeping two or three 
 places for us in the gallery, and he or she must be very adroit who 
 will make him give them up before our return.” 
 
 M. de Lancry, though he appeared greatly annoyed, could not 
 decline Madame de Richeville’s proposal. The Duchess took my 
 arm, Gontran offered his to Madame de Richeville’s friend, and we 
 proceeded towards the places which were reserved by Lord Mungo. 
 
 His Lordship indeed appeared perfectly capable of preserving and 
 defending them by his own vis inertioe, for he was an immensely fat 
 man. When he perceived us he attempted (but vainly) to get up. 
 Madame de Richeville said to me with a smile — “ I was perhaps 
 imprudent in confiding our places to his guardianship, only fancy if 
 he should find it out of his power, to restore them to us 1” 
 
 However, after a fresh effort, Lord Mungo managed to get up, 
 and I and the two other ladies seated ourselves in perfect comfort. 
 
228 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 Gontran now withdrew, after having given me an expressive look, 
 so as to call my attention to Madame de Richeville. 
 
 On my left hand was a complete shrubbery of camelias, the 
 Duchess sate on my right, so that by turning to my side, she was 
 enabled to converse with me in a low voice, without being heard by 
 any one. 
 
 “ Good God !” — she began — “ do not you think me very bold, 
 after what has already taken place between us ?” 
 
 “ Madame — ” 
 
 “ Do not be angry with me, I want to talk to you about our 
 friend M. de Mortagne. He has been very dangerously ill.” 
 
 “ Is it possible, madame T ’ 
 
 “ Certainly, he had suffered so severely, and then the emotions of 
 the other day caused him such intense agitation. He is still very 
 ill, though he is better.” 
 
 “ I know it, madame, yesterday as I was returning home — ” 
 
 “ You saw him at his window, yes, he has gone to live opposite 
 your house in order to be more near you. If you did but know how 
 he loves you ! — all his fears. Well, well — no, no, we will not talk 
 any more about that,” continued the Duchess, observing a movement 
 which I could not restrain. “ I hope that he and I were both mis- 
 taken, you seem happy — you have effected a conversion. I am not 
 surprised at it — only I did not dare to hope it.” 
 
 “ I am indeed very happy, madame, as I had foreseen I should 
 be.” 
 
 “ And I swear to you that I also am very happy to have been 
 mistaken in my anticipations. But let me tell you, while we are 
 almost alone, if you have any letters which you wish to reach M. de 
 Mortagne, do not forget to address them to the Hotel de Richeville 
 rue de Grenelle, in case he should be absent for some days. In a 
 word, my poor girl, whatever may happen to you, in whatever 
 emergency you may find yourself, remember that in me you have 
 one true and devoted friend. This seems strange to you, does it 
 not ? All I ask of you is to put the friendship which I offer you 
 to the test, it shall never fail you.” 
 
 At this moment M. Lugarto entered the gallery. 
 
 I made a movement of involuntary terror, and drew more close to 
 the Duchess de Richeville. 
 
 “ What is the matter ?” she asked me. 
 
 “ I felt a sudden chill, madame, there is a great draught of air 
 in this gallery. Madame de Richeville, now, by chance, perceived M. 
 Lugarto, who was conversing with several other persons, and she 
 said to me, pointing to him. 
 
 “ Do you see that man V ’ 
 
 “Yes, Madame,” I replied trembling all over. 
 
 “ Well then ! your aunt is an angel of gentleness compared to 
 
THE 0 Ill’ll AN. 
 
 229 
 
 him. He is an incarnation of pride and meanness, cowardice, and 
 cruelty, and yet he is received in society. He has done things 
 which make one shudder. Last year he ruined, ruined for ever, a 
 miserable young woman, Madame de Berny, who is now deserted, 
 abandoned by her family, repulsed by every body ; he treated her in 
 the most brutal, scandalous, and cruel manner. M. de Berny, 
 either from weakness or contempt, has wrapped himself up in a dis- 
 dainful indifference to his wife’s fate. Once more has M. Lugarto 
 escaped with impunity ! Since men are so cowardly, women at 
 least ought to treat such creatures as this Lugarto, as they deserve. 
 And I cannot conceive why such a wretch is tolerated in society, or 
 even why people answer him when he speaks, for his impudence is 
 as great as his familiarity.” 
 
 I remained silent. I had a presentiment that M. Lugarto would 
 come up to me. And indeed Madame de Richeville had scarcely 
 done speaking, when he approached, made me a slight bow, and 
 offered me his hand, saying 
 
 “ Well then you did come to the ball after all ? You were right 
 to mind what I said.” 
 
 Perceiving that I did not take his offered hand, he continued 
 smiling ironically. 
 
 “We are still at war then ? And yet I was tempted to believe 
 the contrary when I saw you wearing the flowers I sent you this 
 morning.” 
 
 “ I do not understand you, sir,” I replied, and once more addressing 
 myself to Madame de Richeville. I asked her the names of two very 
 pretty women who were just coming in. M. Lugarto was not dis- 
 concerted, but continued — “You don’t understand me? and yet 
 what I say is clear enough. The flowers which you have in your 
 hand, and in your hair, came from my hot houses. I sent them to 
 you this morning, I don’t give them to everybody I can tell you ! Last 
 spring I sent a precisely similar garniture , to pretty little Madame de 
 Berny — and it really brought her luck.” 
 
 I looked with horror at the flowers for which I thought I was in- 
 debted to Gontran, and I was cruelly pained at the idea that my 
 husband had connived with that man to make me accept them. 
 I saw something sinister in his coupling me with that woman of 
 whom Madame de Richeville had just been talking. I could not re- 
 press a movement of passion, and in my anger I tore off some leaves 
 from the bouquet which I was holding in my hand. 
 
 “ Take care !” exclaimed M. Lugarto, showing me some drops of 
 white liquid which were oozing out from the stalk of the leaves 
 which had been pulled off. “ Y our hand is bare, and that substance is a 
 very corrosive one, those flowers are beautiful, but the plant which 
 bears them is a poisonous one.” 
 
 As it happened, a drop of this white liquid had fallen upon one 
 
230 
 
 THE ORPHAN- 
 
 of my fingers, I felt a slight smarting pain, and a small, livid spot 
 was left upon my skin.”* 
 
 Doubtlessly I need not have been astonished at the venomous pro- 
 perty of those flowers, but when I reflected that they came to me 
 from the man who inspired me with so much terror, I could not 
 help observing a sinister coincidence, and fancying that there was 
 something fatal and deadly even in his very gift. In an agony of 
 fear I threw the frightful bouquet into the middle of the camelias 
 which were near me. M. Lugarto smiled and said to me— 
 
 “ One would say you had been bitten by a serpent, it is a great 
 pity you cannot throw away, to as great a distance, those clusters of 
 the same flowers which adorn your beautiful hair. I am happy, in 
 spite of yourself, at seeing you obliged to retain them.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Madame !” I said in a low voice to Madame de Richeville, 
 “ all that is going on here seems a terrible dream, take me away 
 from this place, I implore you, and let us go and look for Mon- 
 sieur de Lancry, for I wish to withdraw.” 
 
 “ I am perfectly stupified, replied the Duchess, is that man then 
 an acquaintance of yours.” 
 
 “ Not of mine, madame, but he is an intimate friend of my 
 husband’s — who introduced him to me, and I dread as much as I 
 detest him. Oh ! for God’s sake take me away from this place !” 
 
 While I was conversing in a low voice with the Duchess, Mon- 
 sieur Lugarto was replying in an absent and haughty manner to the 
 polite attentions of some young men, who were great admirers of 
 his luxury and his race horses. 
 
 Madame de Richeville was silent for a moment, and seemed ab- 
 sorbed in her reflections, she then said to me with an accent of deep 
 emotion “ Be grateful to God, dear child, for having restored Mon- 
 sieur de Mortagne to you. I know not why, but this intimacy of 
 your husband with Monsieur Lugarto terrifies me — you are fearfully 
 pale — let us go and look for Monsieur de Lancry.” 
 
 “ Oh yes, Madame, and besides, though it may be a childish feel- 
 ing, these horrible flowers on my forehead seem to distract my 
 brain.” 
 
 I do not know if Monsieur Lugarto heard me, but immediately 
 leaving the persons with whom he had been conversing he turned 
 round at the very moment that I and Madame de Richeville were 
 rising from our seats. 
 
 “ You are going away then, are you,” he exclaimed, “ will you 
 take my arm ?” 
 
 Making him no reply, I pressed still closer to Madame de Riche- 
 ville. 
 
 The juice of the euphorbia is a very strong poison. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 23 i: 
 
 u By the bye, Madame la Duchesse ,” said Monsieur Lugarto, let- 
 ting his words drop one by one, and attenti vely watching the effect 
 they produced, “ I have a question of no great importance to ask 
 you. Is it long since old Mademoiselle Albin went to the village of 
 Bory in Anjou, to Anselm the farmer’s T 
 
 Madame de Richeville was thunderstruck, she turned red and 
 white by turns, just as the Princess Ksernika had turned red and 
 white the night before. Monsieur Lugarto gave me a glance of 
 triumph ! Suddenly his features changed their expression, his inso- 
 lent audacity gave place to an assumption of constrained humility, 
 and he bowed twice with obsequious politeness to some person whom 
 I could not see. I turned round — it was Monsieur de Rochegune ! 
 who replying by a distant bend of the head to Monsieur Lugarto’s 
 excess of civility, was approaching Madame de Richeville. The 
 Duchess, not yet recovered from her emotion, had not uttered a 
 word ; she seemed however to feel intense delight in the presence of 
 Monsieur de Rochegune, and exclaimed — 
 
 “ Oh, what good your presence has done me, I feel better since 
 you have come.” 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune looked at Madame de Richeville with 
 astonishment. 
 
 “ Good God, Madame, what is the matter ?” he replied. 
 
 “ Nothing but my own folly. You know I believe in omens. 
 Madame de Lancry is equally superstitious, and we have been fright- 
 ening ourselves to death about nothing — but all our foolish visions 
 quickly vanished away when we saw you, you are, par excellence , 
 the wise and rational man !” 
 
 When Madame de Richeville mentioned my name, Monsieur de 
 Rochegune made me a respectful obeisance. I had not seen him 
 since the touching scene of gratitude of which I, my Aunt, and 
 Gontran had been witnesses in his house. I thought him much 
 changed, and his countenance, in which gentleness and gravity were 
 blended, acquired a character of singular melancholy, from the 
 painful expression of his smile. 
 
 “ You have not been long on your travels, Monsieur ; how de- 
 lighted your friends must be at your speedy return,” said Monsieur 
 Lugarto to Monsieur de Rochegune, with an extreme affability of 
 manner, “ Y ou will allow me I hope to pay you a visit one of these 
 mornings.” 
 
 “ I should be sorry you took so much trouble, monsieur , for I am 
 seldom at home,” replied Monsieur de Rochegune in a most freezing 
 manner.” 
 
 “ If my first visit be not successful, perhaps my second may be 
 more so, Monsieur. I am not easily discouraged, when anything is 
 at stake to which I attach great value.” 
 
 “ You are really too good, Monsieur, l am afraid you exaggerate 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 23'2 
 
 to yourself the value of my acquaintance : besides I have only now 
 at Paris so modest a pied-a-terre that it is absolutely impossible for 
 me to receive any one there but my friends ,” these last words which 
 were said in the driest possible manner, put an end to this dialogue. 
 
 Monsieur Lugarto dissembled his annoyance, and anxious, no 
 doubt, to be revenged upon some one, said to Madame de Richeville 
 — “ Do not forget, Madame la Duchesse, the information I have 
 given you ; when you wish it, I will do myself the honor of calling 
 upon you,” to the great surprise of myself and Monsieur de Roche- 
 gune, Madame de Richeville replied with emotion in her voice — “ I 
 will be at home, from four to five o’clock to-morrow, Monsieur, if 
 you wish.” 
 
 “ I will not fail to avail myself of so happy a hazard, Madame 
 la Duchesse,” replied Monsieur Lugarto, with a bow, he then con- 
 tinued addressing himself to me. “ Ah, madame, take care I give 
 you notice that Monsieur de Lancry is a faithless man. I see him 
 over there engaged in a vehement flirtation with the beautiful 
 Princess Ksernika, who is very quick at that sort of work I can 
 tell you, for, with her, a caprice quickly grows into a passion, just 
 look at that monster De Lancry ! his attention is so taken up he 
 does not even remember you are here.” 
 
 Effectively, Gontran was crossing a salon with the Princess 
 Ksernika , she was leaning on his arm and he was whispering to 
 her, smiling as he did so, she dropped her eyes — blushed slightly — 
 returned his smile, and made a little movement of coquettish im- 
 patience. Gontran appeared to be urging something upon her, 
 she lifted up her eyes, and instead of avoiding appeared to take 
 delight in sustaining the glance which met her from his — then, 
 as if Monsieur de Lancry had only just perceived that I was 
 present, he made a hasty movement, said something to the Princess 
 with a glance towards me, and the expression of their countenances 
 changed in an instant. 
 
 All this had happened in less time than it takes me to write it, 
 and I felt the first pang of jealousy in my heart. Never, never, 
 shall I forget the deep and painful feeling which I experienced when 
 I beheld the Princess return Gontran’s smile — strange and cruel 
 mystery ! every faculty of my soul jvas suddenly and completely 
 taken possession of by jealousy — and it seemed to me that I had 
 been long inured to that suffering, in an instant I felt all the hatred, 
 all the distrust, all the humiliation, of that fearful passion — I did 
 not escape one of its varied tortures. Alas ! jealousy is one of 
 those feelings which at their very birth attain a terrible maturity — 
 Jealousy, like Minerva, springs to life in full armour. 
 
 My heart was broken, and my cheek grew red with the glow of 
 fever. 
 
 Gontran advanced with the Princess leaning on his arm, he 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 233 
 
 came up to me in an unembarrassed and cheerful manner, I felt 
 my tears ready to burst, I could only make an inclination of my 
 head, without replying to a few amiable expressions which she ad- 
 dressed to me. 
 
 “ Monsieur de Rochegune will you give me your arm,” said 
 Madame de Richeville, and be kind enough to ask for my carriage.” 
 
 “ You here, Monsieur de Rochegune, said Gontran, offering his 
 hand to the latter. I thought you were on your travels, I hope you 
 will not quite have forgotten the way to your old house, and that myself 
 and Madame de Lancry shall often have the pleasure of seeing you.” 
 
 “ I do not expect to make a long stay at Paris, replied Monsieur 
 de Rochegune, but I will bear in mind your very kind invitation, 
 and at all events I will do myself the honor of paying a farewell 
 visit to Madame de Lancry, if she will grant me that favour. 
 
 I replied mechanically, — Madame de Richeville and Monsieur de 
 Rochegune left the gallery. 
 
 “ I feel very anxious to go — for I am somewhat indisposed,” I 
 said to Monsieur de Lancry, 
 
 “ Not yet !” my dear Matilda — the Princess has made her 
 way thro’ all the crowd on purpose to find you,” Monsieur de 
 Lugarto now approached Madame de KserniJca, and I fancied 
 they interchanged a look of intelligence, the Princess who 
 had been so haughty the evening before, now addressed him 
 with an affability in which there was something of terror. “ I sup- 
 pose I must forgive your ill nature, for you are really a terrible man,” 
 she then turned towards me, and added, as she sat down by my 
 side, “ I shall take the Duchess de Riche ville’s place, of whom I was 
 becoming really quite jealous — ” 
 
 “ You are very kind, Madame — but — ” 
 
 “ I am just going to look round the ball-room with Lugarto, said 
 Gontran to me, and I will come back for you presently if you wish 
 it.” 
 
 Monsieur de Lancry took Monsieur Lugarto’s arm, and they both 
 moved away, I remained with the Princess. “ Do you know, she 
 said to me, with the utmost gaiety,” you have a most delightful 
 husband, I only knew him before by report, for since my appearance 
 in the world, it has always happened that either he or I were 
 travelling — but I fully intend to make up for it this season ; in the 
 first place I give you due notice, that we have already got up a very 
 nice little flirtation, and I am almost sorry for it, for I fancy he 
 is a very dangerous man, now I should like to know what you would 
 say if I were to carry him off from you.” 
 
 The Princess might have gone on talking for a long time, without 
 my thinking of answering her, what she had just said might pass 
 for one of those pleasantries tolerated in society, but yet I was 
 cruelly wounded by every word. My love for Gontran was a feeling 
 
234 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 of such devotion, such solemnity, such fervour, that love in short, 
 upon which my life, my whole destiny rested, for its base was, for 
 me, the object of so pious a worship, that the levity of the Princess’s 
 language would have hurt me, even had my jealousy not been pain- 
 fully excited. In any sincere and profound feeling which knows its 
 own worth there is a kind of jealous austerity, a fierce perceptibility, 
 and devout chastity, which revolts at the least profanation, — you 
 may conceive then my wounded feelings when you reflect on my 
 isolated situation, the distrustfulness of my disposition, the misfor- 
 tunes of my childhood, and the unbounded hopes I had formed from 
 my union with Gontran. The Princess, astonished at my silence, 
 continued — “You seem to be quite absorbed in a reverie, Madame, 
 will you tell me its subject.” 
 
 I was on the point of candidly telling her all my feelings — and 
 entreating her for the sake of my happiness, to give up her coquetry 
 with Gontran — but I renounced this thought when I reflected how 
 ridiculous such a step would appear, such is the world, which has 
 only contempt or sarcasms to lavish upon the expressions of every 
 legitimate and ingenuous sorrow. My pride was now up in arms, 
 words full of gall and bitterness, trembled on my lips, I endeavoured 
 to inspire myself with all Mademoiselle de Maran’s malice, I en- 
 deavoured, but in vain, to utter some cutting repartees ! I suffered 
 too much to be witty being compelled to reply to a second obser- 
 
 vation of the Princess’s, the following foolish sentence was all I could 
 find to say, and I uttered it, with a bitter smile — “ I by no means 
 doubt Madame, the power of your charms.” 
 
 “ God bless my soul, with what a sombre and melo-dramatic air, you 
 say that,” continued Madame de Ksernika, bursting into a laugh. 
 “ You surely cannot be jealous — and jealous of your husband too, that 
 would be too delicious. Madame ! pray don’t give way to 
 such ridiculous weakness, I should be quite in despair if you 
 did, my triumph would be a far less brilliant one, for your 
 jealousy would deprive you of a great portion of your superiority 
 over me, — don’t you admire my presumption and vanity, I 
 actually am bold enough to enter the lists against you, who 
 are armed with so many advantages. Confess I am quite 
 heroical !” 
 
 I was on the rack, and it required all my experience in dis- 
 sembling my sufferings, an experience which I had acquired during 
 my melancholy childhood to prevent my bursting into a violent fit 
 of tears. Alas ! alas ! I did not expect to be forced so soon into 
 having recourse to that faculty of concealment, which had been pro- 
 duced and matured by the miseries of my past existence. All 
 the powers of my soul were employed in this self-constraint, I felt 
 that I was on the point of again making a foolish reply, and, in 
 spite of myself, I stammered out these absurd words — “ Are you 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 2SH 
 
 serious in wliat you say, Malame?” the Princess laughed more 
 violently than ever, “ serious, indeed,” she replied, “ that is quite 
 a school girl’s question, certainly I am serious, I dote on Monsieur 
 de Lancry, and you see in me a declared rival, ready to dispute the 
 possession of his heart with you, by every possible means — what a 
 glorious opportunity to carry off so delightful a conquest from so 
 formidable an adversary.” 
 
 I fixed my eyes upon Madame de Ksernika to endeavour to pene- 
 trate the real nature of her sentiments, but this I found impossible 
 so varying and changing was the expression of her features, by 
 degrees, however, I recovered my self-possession. I vanquished my 
 emotion, and I endeavoured to assume an air of good humour and 
 light-heartedness. 
 
 “ But are you aware, madame,” I replied, “ that you are running 
 great risks, in entering the lists against me ?” 
 
 “ Certainly, and that is just what I am most proud of, for, after 
 all, you are much younger, handsomer, and more amiable than I 
 am,” said the Princess, in a sarcastic tone. 
 
 “ That is not the question, madame, my superiority consists in 
 this, that I have not like you a reputation to maintain.” 
 
 “ What do you mean, madame ?” said the Princess, looking at 
 me with surprise, “ your reputation !” 
 
 “ Oh ! madame, I have mine, as you have yours — there are re- 
 putations of all sorts.” 
 
 Madame de Ksernika looked annoyed, and I quickly con- 
 tinued — 
 
 “ Yours is a reputation for irresistible beauty, established by 
 brilliant, and above all, by numerous successes — were your struggle 
 with me to give you a fresh triumph this new conquest would not 
 add much to your glory — while, were you to be beaten, just reflect, 
 madame, who would be your victor, a poor, young, inexperienced 
 wife, who is just entering into society, and defending, in her own 
 homely way, her husband, or if you like her happiness — ” 
 
 The Princess assumed her air of haughtiness, and replied rather 
 harshly. 
 
 “ Are you annoyed, madame ?” 
 
 I perceived by these words that mine had struck home — and I 
 experienced a sensation of bitter joy. 
 
 “ Not at all, madame, for we are only joking, I believe.” 
 
 Gontran now returned with Monsieur Lugarto. “ Princess,” 
 said Monsieur de Lancry, “ Mesdames D’Aubeterre and Monsieur 
 de Saint-Prix have made up a party for the play, and supper after- 
 wards, for this evening — would you like to come with Madame de 
 Lancry, me, and Lugarto T 
 
 “ I shall be delighted,” she replied. 
 
 “We have still something more to propose,” said Monsieur de 
 
236 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Lancry, “ it will soon be six o’clock, the weather is delightful, we 
 might take a drive in the bois de Bologne till half past seven, and 
 go from there to see Arnal at the Vaudeville. 
 
 u That will be just the thing,” answered the Princess, “ unani- 
 mously adopted, is it not, Madame de Lancry T 
 
 “ I do not feel at all well,” I said to Gontran, “ and request that 
 you will allow me to dispense with the pleasure.” 
 
 “ You cannot mean it,” replied M. de Lancry, “ on the contrary, 
 it will do you good.” 
 
 “ You have no idea how delightful Arnal is,” added M. Lugarto. 
 “ I entreat you,” I said with an imploring glance at my hus- 
 band. 
 
 “ Show no compassion, M. de Lancry,” said the Princess, “ be a 
 tyrant and issue your commands.” 
 
 “ We should lose too much by Madame de Lancry’s absence,” 
 replied Gontran, with a smile not to induce me to follow the 
 Princess’s barbarous advice. “ So then,” he added with a tone of 
 comic emphasis, “ Madame de Lancry I command you positively 
 to come and spend a delightful evening with us.” 
 
 “ If you insist upon it,” I said to Gontran. 
 
 “ Of course we all insist upon it,” added M. Lugarto. 
 a It is all settled then,” continued Gontran. “ I will go and 
 tell Saint-Prix and Madame d’ Aubeterre, and will send immediately 
 to take two avant-scene , and the Vaudeville and to order a supper 
 at Very’s.” 
 
 “ By the bye, now I think of it,” said the Princess, u Madame 
 de Serigny brought me with her, and I have not ordered my 
 servant.” 
 
 “ Nothing can be more easily arranged, Princess,” said M. Lu- 
 garto, “ Lancry will employ his carriage in sending to take the 
 boxes, and therefore I will place my own carriage at your disposal 
 and that of Madame de Lancry and Gontran.” 
 
 “ Nothing could be better,” said my husband, offering his arm 
 to Madame de Ksernika. “ Let us go and rejoin the other ladies 
 who are waiting for us.” 
 
 M. Lugarto offered me his arm with an air of triumph. In 
 spite of my aversion it was impossible for me to refuse it. 
 
 He said to me in a low voice. 
 
 “ You are miserable at wearing my flowers, at accepting my arm, 
 at getting into my carriage. I am very sorry for you, it is your 
 own fault, why do you treat me so ill, that all my attentions to 
 you become converted into annoyances V’ 
 
 I made no reply and I passed through the drawing-rooms which 
 were filled with gay and happy groups. The open windows per- 
 mitted one to see the garden in all its richness of flowers and 
 verdure. 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 237 
 
 As I contemplated that cheerful picture, as I listened to the 
 harmony of the orchestra, my heart died within me, the contrast 
 to my own feelings was so insupportable a one. All eyes were upon 
 me, I heard my name whispered with that of M. Lugarto, and I 
 blushed with shame, thinking that all the world had the same 
 contempt for him which I had. I was in despair at appearing 
 on terms of intimacy with that man. 
 
 All this, however, was by no means the case, at least not ap- 
 parently so. The men exchanged a friendly bow, or a few polite 
 sentences with him, and several ladies returned his bow with a 
 smile, we stopped for a moment in one of the door ways. The 
 young Marchioness of Serigny, a lady of the highest station too, 
 came up to M. Lugarto and said to him. 
 
 “ I am come to present a petition to you in the name of a 
 whole host of pretty women.” 
 
 “ Let’s hear what it is all about,” asked M. Lugarto. 
 
 “We want you to give us a delightful ball or two this 
 spring, in celebration of your return. You are so clever at get- 
 ting up a f6te, it would be quite delicious !” 
 
 “ Oh yes ! oh yes ! pray give us some balls this spring Monsieur 
 Lugarto,” added some young ladies who now joined Madame de 
 Serigny. 
 
 M. Lugarto turned towards me, and said to me in a loud voice, 
 and with his insulting familiarity of manner. 
 
 “ Come, CQjne, make up your mind. Do you wish me to give 
 you some balls, yes or no ? Fix the time, and the number, and I 
 will obey you — you mind.” 
 
 I turned purple with shame, every eye was turned upon me, I 
 remarked more than one malicious smile, my heart misgave me, I 
 could not utter a word. 
 
 “ Come, Lancry, answer for your wife,” said Lugarto to my 
 husband, who was just before us. “ I am asking her whether she 
 chooses me to give some balls, and she won’t answer me, yes 
 or no.” 
 
 “ Give them just the same,” cried Gontran. “ I am sure it is 
 only a motive of discretion that prevents Madame de Lancry 
 from saying yes.” 
 
 “ Well then, ladies, since it pleases Madame de Lancry, I will 
 give four balls.” 
 
 “ Two balls in the morning and two evening ones with illumi- 
 nations in your magnificent garden. Oh ! it will be enchanting !” 
 said Madame de Serigny. 
 
 “ Perhaps so,” replied M. Lugarto, “ but I must consult the 
 taste of a lady friend of mine,” and he gave me an expressive 
 glance — “ in whom I have the greatest confidence.” 
 
238 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Monsieur Lugarto you are always a delightful man !” exclaimed 
 several ladies. 
 
 “ Of course I am when I give you balls,” he replied insolently. 
 We now went to look for our carriages. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE SUPPER. 
 
 I was thunderstruck at the impudence with which M. Lugarto had 
 addressed me, and at the brazen indiscretion with which women, 
 moving in the first circles of society, implored, in their ungoverned 
 thirst for pleasure, such a man to give them fetes, a man whom they 
 ought to despise. 
 
 M. Lugarto’s carriage drove up. 
 
 “No body ever had such horses as yours,” said the Princess. 
 
 “ They ought indeed to be magnificent, judging from their price,” 
 said Gontran, “ that turn out cost him fifteen thousand francs.'’ 
 
 We set off for the hois de Boulogne. M. de Saint Prix, and 
 Mesdames d’Aubeterre, followed in another carriage. 
 
 My spirits were painfully depressed, and I was overwhelmed by all 
 the various emotions of this day of pleasure. 
 
 That factitious and feverish strength which had for a moment 
 sustained me, was now completely vanished. Vain, was the resolu- 
 tion I had taken to contend with the Princess in wit, spirits, and 
 gaiety. Putting vanity out of the question. I had perceived that I 
 was able to embarrass her, but I had no longer the courage to 
 attempt it. 
 
 I fell into a kind of painful languor, and resigned myself to my 
 fate. I dwelt upon the thought that I was offering as a sacrifice to 
 Gontran, my participation in the pleasures (!) of the evening, 
 pleasures which were a torture to me. 
 
 It was with a kind of bitter consolation that I felt, in spite of all 
 the painful sufferings caused by jealousy, that my love for Gontran 
 had not experienced the least shock. I do not think I could com- 
 pare this impression of mine to any thing more faithfully than to 
 the one which a mother feels when she weeps over the errors of an 
 adored child — she detests the faults, while she still adores the 
 culprit. 
 
 Oh ! there is in the invincible love of women, a feeling of magni- 
 ficent charity — too exalted for the intelligence and faculties of the 
 vulgar to comprehend? The more a woman suffers, the more 
 desirous is she to spare suffering to him who occasions her own, and 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 239 
 
 she puts iu practice with a pious resolution, that precept of the 
 Gospel, which is so sublime a one in its simplicity. “ Do not unto 
 others what you would not should be done unto you.” 
 
 I recollect that this thought occurred to my mind at the moment 
 when the Princess was laughing long and loudly at a jocular remark 
 of Gontran’s upon the ridiculous figure of a man who was just passing 
 us upon horseback. 
 
 There was such a contrast between my ideas and those which had 
 been just expressed, that, at first I almost blushed with shame, but 
 a re-action of feeling soon followed, and I could not help casting a 
 look of withering contempt at the Princess, as I half raised myself 
 up from the seat of the carriage on which I had thrown myself 
 quite back. This did not escape Gontran, he took advantage of a 
 moment when M. Lugarto and Madame de Kserniha were leaning out 
 to look at his Royal Highness the Duke de Bordeaux, who was 
 coming back from Bagatelle, to whisper to me in an impatient tone. 
 
 “ You do not look ill, but out of humour, you will end by becoming 
 famous in society for your insupportable temper ; nothing can be 
 more ridiculous ; every attention is exhausted to please you, and you 
 repay it all by a most contemptuous silence.” 
 
 “ Gontran, I assure you 1 am far from well.” And my eyes filled 
 with the tears which I could no longer restrain. 
 
 “ That’s right, tears now ! That was all you wanted to complete 
 you,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 I drooped my head, put my handkerchief to my lips and concealed 
 my tears. 
 
 Doubtless Gontran regretted his movement of impatience, for 
 soon after when I once more lifted up my eyes to him, to show him 
 that I was no longer crying, his glance met my own. 
 
 Oh ! never, never shall I forget the look of mingled melancholy 
 and kindness which he gave me. 
 
 Then his features suddenly contracted — with a change quicker 
 than thought, his handsome and noble contenance wore for a second 
 the impress of a terrible despair. 
 
 I was so alarmed that I could not restrain a slight scream. 
 
 The Princess and M. Lugarto turned hastily round. 
 
 My husband's features had resumed their habitual expression of 
 gaiety, and he said to me — 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, my dear Matilda, for being so clumsy, I was 
 very near crushing your pretty little foot.” 
 
 It v, as time to go to the play, and we accordingly proceeded 
 thither with the rest of our party, Mesdames d’Aubeterre and their 
 uncle M. de Saint-Prix. 
 
 There was nothing very remarkable about the ladies, and for- 
 tunately they talked incessantly. The gentlemen were of much 
 
240 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 the same calibre. I sate down in a corner of the box. M. Lugarto 
 placed himself behind me. 
 
 Gontran appeared entirely devoted to the Princess, and she had 
 the bad taste to burst into such inordinate fits of laughter that she 
 brought upon herself several energetic “ chut chut ” from all quarters 
 of the house. 
 
 I replied with a few monosyllables to M. Lugarto’s observations, 
 and I conversed occasionally with Mesdames d‘Aubeterre, who were 
 sitting near me. 
 
 The buffoonery of the piece, might perhaps have amused me, had 
 I been in a different frame of mind, but now I thought it insup- 
 portable. 
 
 Before the last performance we left the theatre to go and sup 
 at Vary’s, M. de Lancry sate between the Princess and one of the 
 countesses d’Aubeterre. 1 had M. Lugarto on my left, and M. de 
 Saint-Prix on my right. I hoped to escape the conversation of the 
 former, by talking to the latter, I was disappoined, however, for M. 
 de Saint-Prix was a complete gourmand , he looked upon the supper 
 in an extremely serious light, and scarcely made any answer to my 
 observations. 
 
 “ Lancry is right, you have a most unfortunate disposition, for you 
 do not choose to know your real friends,” said M. Lugarto, in a tone 
 of voice which could reach my ear alone, “ but time will wean you 
 from your unjust prejudices.” 
 
 1 made no reply. He continued in the same tone. 
 
 “ I heard your husband invite M. de Rochegune to come and visit 
 you. I hope you will not let in that original often, he is as tiresome 
 as a rainy day, and I detest him.” 
 
 I could not help saying to M. Lugarto — 
 
 “ Doubtless you detest him as much as you fear him, for 
 this morning you were more than polite to him.” 
 
 Oh, ho ! you defend him do you V he said, fixing his eyes upon 
 me as he spoke. 
 
 “ I should feel much flattered in reckoning M. de Rochegune 
 among my friends — he is a man of high birth, rare acquirements, 
 and a noble heart.” 
 
 “ Ah ! ah ! that’s it, is it ? well its worth pursuing at all events,” 
 said M. Lugarto, with that convulsive smile which, with him denoted 
 always a furious rage. 
 
 I did not utter a word. I was firmly resolved to have a final ex- 
 planation with Mr. de Lancry, on the subject of this man. 
 
 I had a vague presentiment that some treacherous plot was in 
 progress of which I and Gontran were the intended victims, when 
 I recalled the expression of despair, which had for a moment con- 
 tracted M. de Lancry ’s features. I gave myself up to all kinds of con- 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 241 
 
 tradictory suppositions. I could not reconcile his apparent gaiety, 
 and his profound attention to the Princess, with that look of 
 tenderness, despair, almost of supplication which he had given me 
 aside. 
 
 This fatal day came to an end at last. Alas ! it was destined to 
 contain as it were, the germ of many future calamities. 
 
 *•**#**•**##• 
 
 I have been reading over these pages again, and I am still more 
 struck with the justice of this reflection — every event of that day, 
 however insignificant, was cruelly developed afterwards. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 Several days had elapsed, when the Princess Ksernika paid me a 
 visit. Believing, doubtless that she would not have much the ad- 
 vantage of me in raillery, she contented herself with heaping affec- 
 tionate words of every description upon me. 
 
 Gontran continued to be most assiduous in his attentions to her 
 when they met in society. 
 
 M. Lugarto called almost every day upon my husband, and never 
 ceased to persecute me with his odious presence. This man would 
 frequently send me flowers in spite of myself, and in spite of the ob- 
 servations which I had made to Gontran. He asked my husband 
 for a seat in our box at the Opera, for the close of the season, and 
 notwithstanding my entreaties, M. de Lancry complied with his 
 request. 
 
 To all my observations, Gontran merely answered. 
 
 “ Lugarto is my intimate friend. I cannot, and will not break off 
 so old an acquaintance, only to satisfy an antipathy of yours which 
 is as unjust as it is unreasonable. You do not like Lugarto ; very 
 well, you take very good care to let him see it, I allow you to act 
 just as you like, and pray permit me to have the same privilege with 
 respect to him, only for decency’s sake, treat him with common 
 civility when you meet him in society.” 
 
 I had already discovered that Gontran’s will was immoveable, and 
 I resigned myself. 
 
 Fortunately, I perceived a remarkable change in M. Lugarto’s 
 manner towards myself. Instead of persecuting me with his con- 
 versation when he met me in society, he scarcely spoke to me at all. 
 
 Gontran had several times compelled me to offer a seat in our 
 
 R 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 242 
 
 box to the Princess Ksernika also. I still continued to suffer cruelly 
 from my jealous suspicions, and twenty times I was on the point of 
 speaking to Gontran on the subject, but my courage failed me. 
 
 1 remembered what I had been told about my mother, and the 
 vis inertioe with which she fell back upon herself when oppressed 
 with sorrow. I now found that I too possessed this faculty ; I re- 
 strained, I concealed my grief, and M. de Lancry never saw me 
 without a calm serenity upon my brow. 
 
 At first, I almost timidly questioned myself every day, in order 
 to ascertain whether my love for Gontran had become in the 
 least diminished, and the answer was invariably in the negative. 
 
 In the pride of my affectionate devotion, I waited with a kind of 
 painful security, for the moment when my husband would discover 
 the nothingness of that attachment to which he so unscrupulously 
 sacrificed me. Besides, in all except his apparent attentions to 
 Madame de Ksernika, Gontran was kind and affable to me, and he 
 could have no suspicion of what I was enduring, for in my presence 
 he was always cheerful and lively. 
 
 I sought in vain, on his features for that transitory expression of 
 despair which had once made so striking an impression upon me, 
 and which had for a moment induced me to believe that his be- 
 haviour was the result of some mysterious and irresistible influence 
 possessed over him by M. Lugarto. 
 
 I was mistaken, however, in supposing that my feelings were less 
 intense from being checked, and dissembled. My life was an isolated 
 one, I had no confidant, no friend, for Ursula was absent, besides I 
 should have looked upon any complaint against Gontran in the light 
 almost of a sacrilege. 
 
 In general, one never complains unless it be for the purpose of 
 excusing one’s revenge, or displaying one’s resignation, 
 
 My love for Gontran was greater than ever, and my resignation 
 was so natural a one that I could not dream of taking any credit to 
 myself for it. 
 
 An infinite, an unshared sorrow was gradually accumulating in 
 my heart, and I experienced a singular sensation, the more I became 
 engrossed with that sorrow ; I felt more and more oppressed, as if the 
 vital air were being gradually withdrawn from me. I feared lest an 
 hour should come when my soul would burst its bonds, when in 
 spite of myself my first wild cry of anguish would burst forth, and 
 I should implore Gontran to have compassion upon me. 
 
 That hour at last arrived. 
 
 For some days I had been indisposed. One morning I said to my 
 husband, “ Gontran I am going to claim the fulfilment of a promise 
 which is very dear to me.” 
 
 “ What do you mean, Matilda ?” 
 
 (( You allowed me to hope that we should spend a few days in 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 243 
 
 our little house at Chantilly. It is now nearly the end of May, 
 and I think the delightful forest air would do me good.” 
 
 “ What, are you still thinking of that foolish whim 1 Why that 
 hovel was pulled down a week ago. I was informed by my man of 
 business that the steward of the Duke de Bourbon’s estates had 
 taken possession of it. There is quite an end to that business.” 
 
 I had retained a glimmering of hope, and seeing that even that 
 must be resigned, I burst into tears. Gontran appeared impatient 
 and said to me. 
 
 “ Really, my love, it shows a want of common sense to cry about 
 such a childish thing. I told you before that although we are rich 
 our fortune will not allow us to comply with all your caprices.” 
 
 “ Caprices ! I have very few, Gontran, and that was to me a 
 holy and consecrated one.” 
 
 “ Once for all, what is done cannot be undone, it is impossible to 
 undo the sale, besides, God bless my soul, all these fancies are only 
 fit for novels. If one was obliged to buy every place where one has' 
 been happy, at the end of a certain time one should find oneself 
 singularly embarrassed, with all those commemorative kinds of 
 possessions, whose only value would be the tender remembrances 
 attached to them. Unfortunately in this unromantic age you 
 cannot live upon such unsubstantial property.” 
 
 This raillery of Gontran’s hurt me deeply. I had always believed 
 that he still looked upon those happy days, in a sacred light, and I 
 could not help replying with another burst of tears. 
 
 “ Alas ! love, there would at least have been no second opportunity 
 of spending money in that foolish way, as you call it.” 
 
 “ I suppose you mean to insinuate that you have been miserable 
 ever since then.” 
 
 “ No — no — I am not complaining, I am only regretting those days 
 of bliss when you were more solely my own — when each lived only 
 for the other.” 
 
 “ I shall take advantage of this opportunity,” replied M. de Lancry, 
 after a long silence, “ to give you some advice which I hope will be 
 of service to you. I do not know what romantic ideas you have 
 formed of marriage, but allow me to tell you what it onght to be in 
 the case of two reasonable people. Like two lovers, or rather like 
 two children, we played at solitary happiness, at bread and cheese and 
 hisses — as people call it, but we wore out those pastoral pleasures, 
 for every exaggeration comes to an end at last. We ought now 
 merely to see in marriage, a kind of pleasing intimacy founded upon 
 a mutual confidence, and especially upon a mutual liberty ; we are 
 people of the world, and we ought to live for the world, and like 
 the world.” 
 
 “ Gontran, do you remember what you once said to me ? “ Mar- 
 
 riage in my eyes is a love and passion, united and blessed by God.” 
 
244 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 Do you remember what you said to me besides % It would be im- 
 possible for me to form those cold and monstrous ties in which the 
 heart has no share” 
 
 “ I said all that did I % of course I did, and I was quite sincere, 
 for the fact was, that at that time I fancied such a dream might be 
 realized.” 
 
 “ And you were not mistaken Gontran, oh ! that hope was no 
 chimera — to me at least nothing is changed — love — passion in mar- 
 riage is still — or rather would be if you chose — my existence and 
 my happiness.” 
 
 “ That is just like women who always look upon what they desire 
 as actually accomplished. You are strangely mistaken, I am older 
 than you. Perhaps your illusion may last a little longer than mine, 
 but like mine it will vanish, and you will find out that the senti- 
 mental love which you feel will have its end like everything else.” 
 
 “ Gontran, in pity’s sake do not blaspheme ?” 
 
 “ All that is mere talk, it is better to look well into one’s life 
 at once, and one becomes happier in consequence. You yourself 
 are a proof of this. You have been horridly ill-humoured lately, 
 while I am in an excellent temper. Do adopt my views, renounce 
 all these imaginary idyls you have got into your head, and you will 
 acquire that placidity, and indulgence which turn marriage into a 
 paradise instead of a hell.” 
 
 “ Oh God ! oh God ! to hear this ! and from you ! from you ! ” 
 I exclaimed, hiding my head in my hands to stifle my sobs. 
 
 “ That’s right, we shall have a scene now — oh ! what a temper !” 
 
 “No ! no ! Gontran, I will not make any scene — hear me — I will 
 speak frankly to you — yes ! I must tell you what I have been suffer- 
 ing so long. You are not aware of it, or you could not turn my sor- 
 row into a jest. You are too kind, too generous !” 
 
 I took M. de Lancry’s hand in mine. 
 
 “Well, let me hear it then, speak out, Matilda, if I have hurt 
 your feelings, it was without knowing it. If your reproaches are 
 reasonable, I will beg your pardon, you will forgive me, and ‘ I won't 
 do it any more,’ as the children say,” he replied shrugging up his 
 shoulders. 
 
 “ I expected no less from such a heart as your’s, love. You en- 
 courage me, your gaiety dispels the painful impression which your 
 words just now occasioned me. Laugh as much as you like at your 
 poor Matilda, “ I added, after a minute’s silence, and trying to force 
 a smile, “she is jealous of the Princess Ksernika — Yes, your atten- 
 tions to her make me horribly uneasy, and I fancy that you forget 
 me, since you have been so taken up with that woman.” 
 
 “ Is that all you have to reproach me with ? and pray what con- 
 clusion do you come to upon the subject T 
 
 “ That you might make me as happy as I was before, by granting 
 me one favour, love, which it ought to cost you no effort to bestow.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 245 
 
 “Well then ! what is it ? let me hear,” he impatiently replied. 
 
 “ I wish to break off the terms almost of intimacy in which we 
 are at present living with the princess — and so by degrees, cease to 
 see her at all.” 
 
 “ That’s what you want is it ? Are you mad ?” 
 
 “ Gontran !” 
 
 “ What !” he angrily exclaimed. “ I cannot be properly attentive 
 and polite to a woman without being persecuted by your jealousy ? 
 What ! you actually have the face to ask me to treat with imperti- 
 nance a person who is entitled to your consideration, to your respect ; 
 under the pretence of banishing the foolish visions which haunt you ? 
 Why you must have lost your senses !” 
 
 “ Well then, yes, I shall lose my senses if my sufferings are pro- 
 longed. Believe me, Gontran, my apparent calmness conceals much 
 and bitter grief ! By the memory of my poor mother, who, herself 
 suffered so much, I swear to you that what I have been lately endur- 
 ing is too much for my strength.” 
 
 “Well, and how pray, can I help it?” he exclaimed still more 
 enraged, “am I responsible for all the fancies you conjure up to 
 torment yourself?” 
 
 “ But if I am really deceived by appearances, put an end to the 
 deception by complying with my request.” 
 
 “ Why it is precisely because the whole thing turns upon ap- 
 pearances which are totally devoid of foundation ; that I tell you 
 once more, I cannot, in mere wantoness and caprice, grossly insult a 
 woman who is a friend of mine and your own.” 
 
 “ But if my happiness and my peace are at stake, Gontran ?” 
 
 “ Listen to me, Matilda,” said Gontran, with difficulty restraining 
 himself. “ I have the reason to judge, and the will to execute. It 
 is my duty to do only what I think right and proper, as I told you 
 once before, when we were discussing your aversion to seeing Made- 
 demoiselle de Maran again, and to receiving my intimate friend. 
 You will find me inflexible in never complying with any of your ex- 
 travagant caprices. You may therefore judge from this that there 
 shall be no change — do you hear ? none whatever in our intercourse 
 with the Princess.” 
 
 “ And so you will continue to be as assiduously courteous to her 
 as ever ? And so in society, all your looks, all your attentions will 
 be for her ? And so it will be always your arm that she will take 1 
 She will be still then, all and everything to you ? Oh my God !” 
 “ An d you would wish that it should be you ! you I always you f so that 
 at last both you and I should be covered with ridicule ? Ah, madame, 
 if you had not a manner so freezing and disdainful you would be 
 sufficiently surrounded to find many an arm instead of mine — there 
 are a thousand little innocent coquetries perfectly allowable ia 
 the world by which a woman is permitted to seek amongst the men 
 
246 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 who surround her, those attentions which a husband could not 
 shew without being pointed at — but no ! You shew a degree of 
 sullenness and hauteur that drives every one away from you. And 
 — then — you complain of being isolated ! If I were to do as you do, 
 what would become of me, I should be one of those unhappy, jealous 
 husbands who never speak to a woman, never budge from the 
 entrance of the door, and who, as soon as midnight appears, come 
 forward like the spectres in the ballad — to carry off with the air of 
 a barbarian, their wives from their partners ? And what is the con- 
 sequence h That those kind of husbands are ridiculed. Oh, my 
 dear, for you, and for myself, I am quite decided always to avoid 
 acting in that manner. 
 
 “ And so,” I exclaimed with bitterness, “ I am to submit without 
 complaining to these strange laws of society, which consider it a 
 sovereign impropriety in a husband to occupy himself with his 
 wife and to pay those attentions to her which he lavishes upon 
 others ! Singular custom which impresses, as it were, the stamp 
 of good breeding upon the appearances of infidelity, which brands 
 with inexcusable ridicule every legitimate and natural attention ! 
 Y ou shrug your shoulders, Gontran. These reflections of an ul- 
 cerated heart seem pitiable to you, do they not ?” 
 
 “ Once for all, madame, since we live in the world, for God’s 
 sake let us live as people of the world. For my part I am deter- 
 mined to make no change in my conduct and I wish — I should not 
 like to say I choose — you to modify your own. It is already pain- 
 ful enough for me to see you receive so ill the attentions of my 
 best friend. But I have given up all hope in that quarter. Luckily 
 Lugarto’s attachment to me is not one of those which are suscep- 
 tible of being diminished by diseased fancies or an unreasonable 
 antipathy.” 
 
 “ And I tell you that you have not a more deadly enemy than 
 that man,” I exclaimed, “ and I tell you that he is the sole cause 
 of all my sorrows and of your own. The instinct of my heart does 
 not deceive me, he exercises some mysterious influence over you, 
 I know not its causes but it exists, do you hear, Gontran 1 it exists. 
 Often, in spite of your assumed calmness, I have surprised the ex- 
 pression of a sombre despair upon your features, this is no longer 
 mere suspicion, but an absolute certainty on my part. I hate that 
 man. And you yourself in your own heart, approve me for that 
 hatred — nay, you share it yourself.” 
 
 “ This is really intolerable ! Why, in heaven’s name, madame, 
 will you have it that I condescend to feign a friendship which I do 
 not feel ?” 
 
 “ That is the mystery, Gontran — And if I were not afraid — but 
 oh ! why should I be afraid to tell you everything ? is not your 
 happiness, is not my own at stake ? Well then, yes, that man 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 247 
 
 domineers over you in spite of yourself, and you dare not confess 
 to me the cause of this tyranny ; why should you judge me so ill 
 as to believe that I could not forgive you everything ? can you feel 
 any false shame towards me h When I united myself to you did 
 I not elect to share not only your future existence, but if I may 
 say so, your past life as well ? I am courageous, love, I shall find 
 immense strength, immense resources in my affection. If it were 
 to save you, you would find me as brave and as resolute as you see 
 me weak and overcome at this minute.” 
 
 “ To save me ? And from what do you wish to save me ? It is 
 enough to drive one mad !” 
 
 “ Good God ! how can I positively tell you what ? That man 
 tyrannises over you, that is certain. He has, perhaps, surprised one 
 of your secrets, as he has surprised those of the Princess and 
 Madame de Richeville — how can I tell 1 you have been extravagant 
 — that man has a princely fortune — perhaps you have contracted 
 some obligations to him V ’ 
 
 “ And you dare to suppose that for such a miserable motive. I 
 should consent to display a friendship towards him which I do not 
 feel !” exclaimed M. de Lancry angrily. 
 
 “ I believe, love, that with your submission to the opinion of the 
 world, you are capable of imposing upon yourself the greatest sac- 
 rifices in order to make your appearance in that world.” 
 
 “ Madame ! madame !” said Gontran with repressed rage. 
 
 “ Do not, love, think that I am reproaching you. You have 
 been long habituated to place your happiness in all this brilliancy 
 of the surface, perhaps you think that even I myself should be 
 pained to give up that brilliancy, oh ! how mistaken you are. 
 What is all this luxury to me ? I hate it if it causes you the 
 least grief. This luxury had nothing to do with that heavenly 
 felicity which was ours for so brief a space, and which would 
 
 be ours, perhaps, still, had it not been for that man’s arrival ! 
 
 What do we require to live in obscurity, in some unknown corner 
 of the world? you, myself and my poor Blondeau? Would not 
 such a life be the realization of my ideal dreams ? Did I not live, 
 till our marriage, a life of solitude far from those pleasures which 
 are but a fatigue to me, because my heart takes no share in them ? 
 
 you are moved, my love, I see — oh ! in pity listen to her who is 
 
 thinking only of your happiness, and would purchase that happiness 
 at the price of her whole existence. Gontran, on my knees, on my 
 knees, I implore you conceal nothing from me, rely upon me. Put 
 my love to the test, seek in it a refuge and a consolation, and you 
 shall not be disappointed.” 
 
 I knelt at Gontran’s feet. His head drooped upon his chest, his 
 eyes had a fixed look, he seemed absorbed in profound reflections, 
 without replying to me, and hiding his hoad in his two hands 
 he sighed long and painfully 
 
348 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN, 
 
 “ Oh ! I see, I see,” I exclaimed almost joyfully. “ I did not 
 deceive myself, courage, love, courage. Come I will take even an 
 impossibility for granted. Suppose that it would ruin us completely 
 to set us free towards this man, will not my friend Ursula be left 
 to us 1 Oh ! I should have recourse to her with as much confidence 
 as much happiness, as she would, if she had to come to me. When 
 love is like ours — for you do love me in spite of your flirtation with 
 that beautiful Princess — can we fall upon evil days ? Oh recollect 
 that touching story you told us so charmingly at the opera.' Well 
 then we will do like that courageous, that noble-minded young 
 couple.” 
 
 Gontran rose hastily and said with bitter irony. 
 
 “ Upon my word you are describing a most enviable existence 
 and one which might well make up for the loss of a great fortune ! 
 What a fine life ! I am mad to listen to your foolish fancies ; once 
 for all you will oblige me by not recurring to this subject again ; 
 your suppositions are all nonsense ; no obligation binds me to 
 Lugarto, he formerly rendered me some services but those services 
 were by no means of a pecuniary nature. I am surprised that 
 with ideas so romantically exalted as yours, you should not under- 
 stand that simple gratitude is sufficient to form the links of an 
 indissoluble friendship. To sum up all I tell you, that your jealousy 
 is ridiculous — that your suspicions of Lugarto are absurd, that I am 
 old enough to know how to behave in society, and that you will 
 act wisely for the sake of our mutual tranquillity to take life as 
 it ought to be taken — You understand me !” 
 
 My feelings were strange and varied, and I reasoned thus rapidly 
 with myself — “ What I wish is Gontran’s happiness, my own ought 
 only to be considered, as the means of attaining his, if by sacrificing 
 myself, I ensure his peace and felicity, I must not hesitate, I will do 
 what he wishes at what ever cost to myself.” I cannot yet under- 
 stand how I so quickly resigned myself to this extreme measure, 
 which formed such a contrst to the complaints I had just made to 
 Gontran. 
 
 It appears to me now that this sudden change of purpose was 
 somewhat akin to those desperate resolutions, which — when our lives 
 are in imminent danger — we take with the swiftness of thought. 
 
 “ I hear you, Gontran,” I said, “ and I will obey you, my com- 
 plaints annoy you, I will complain no more. It would be dis- 
 pleasing to you were you to devote yourself to me in society ; I will 
 ask it no more ; you find a pleasing variety in the attentions you 
 pay to the Princess ; I will reproach you no more on that subject, 
 you are pained at seeing that I do not understand the feeling 
 which attracts you to Monsieur Lugarto ; 1 will do all my power to 
 vanquish the aversion I feel towards him ; but,” I added, unable 
 to repress my tears, “ there is only one favour that I implore you 
 to grant, allow me to go into society as little as possible, it would 
 
TITE ORPHAN. 
 
 349 
 
 be impossible for me to overcome that coldness with which you 
 reproach me. In spite of myself, my mind revolts at the idea of 
 receiving any other attentions but yours, even if those attentions 
 be but trifling ones — I confess that this is weak and childish, but 
 be generous and forgive me, in everything else I will do what you 
 wish. Well then, are you satisfied and do you forgive me for the 
 irritation I have caused you?” I said to him trying to smile through 
 my tears. 
 
 “ Poor Matilda,” said Gontran with an emotion which he could 
 not overcome, “ one must be made of iron to resist such gentle 
 kindness, perhaps I have been wrong.” 
 
 “ No, no,” I said, interrupting him. “ All that I wanted was 
 the knowledge of what pleased or displeased you, you are right, 
 I was mad, but you must not be angry with me, you know I was 
 ignorant of what you wished — but make yourself easy, love, and 
 be sure that this lesson shall not be lost upon me, tell me, tell me 
 now and always, your wishes with the greatest frankness and the 
 greatest candour, but then, if sometimes, though oh how rarely I 
 should, in spite of all efforts, be unable to obey you, you will be kind 
 and indulgent, will you not, when you are convinced it is too great 
 a task for my strength ? You will not scold me any more, will 
 , you?” 
 
 Gontran looked at me with astonishment almost with uneasiness, 
 he hastily took my hand, which he found icy cold, indeed my 
 strength was now beginning to fail me, the resolution which I had 
 just attempted was one of despair, it was not now the wish to keep 
 my promise, which was wanting, but the sheer physical strength to 
 endure so cruel a scene. I should have fallen to the ground had 
 not my husband caught me in his arms, a kind of painful giddiness 
 came over me, I was seized with a burning fever, and for several 
 days I was seriously ill. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE NOTE. 
 
 I continued very ill for some days, and yet next to our retirement 
 at Chantilly, I reckoned those days of illness among the happiest of 
 my life. 
 
 Gontran never left me, and shewed me the tenderest attentions. 
 My reflections were melancholy and sad ones, but yet there was a 
 sweetness in their very melancholy. Sometimes I asked myself 
 what would henceforth be the good that life could confer. I feared 
 that I had exhausted all the felicity which I could expect, and 
 
350 
 
 the onriiAtf. 
 
 sincerely, and from no exaggerated feeling, I prayed to God to take 
 me from this world, at that time death would have seemed almost a 
 blessing to me. 
 
 My husband had become as affectionate and attentive as he used 
 to be in by-gone days — he regretted the sufferings which he had 
 caused me, was always at my side, and I was delivered from the 
 presence of M. Lugarto. 
 
 My happiness was so great that I began to forget the sorrows 
 which had occasioned my illness. I almost dreaded my restoration 
 to health, lest I should then be deprived of Gontran’s precious at- 
 tentions, for as my health improved, he became less assiduous in his 
 attendance. 
 
 In my selfish desire to keep him always with me, I longed ardently 
 to experience a relapse. Unknown to my poor Blondeau, who, 
 nevertheless watched over me with motherly anxiety, I committed 
 some very imprudent acts, and the consequence was that I became 
 once more rather seriously ill. 
 
 I cannot describe my joy at finding that I had succeeded. Gontran 
 for a few days became again as attentive as at first. But the hap- 
 piness of having him always with me, had such an influence over 
 me that I soon acquired renewed life, and then my fears of losing 
 him would return. 
 
 In the midst of these alternations I traced for myself a line of 
 conduct from which I resolved never to deviate ; and one which was 
 in strict conformity with the last determination which I had taken. 
 It would be false to assert that this determination was not a very 
 painful one, but in every sacrifice one makes to love, there is a 
 species of profound satisfaction which increases, as it were in pro- 
 portion to the very greatness of that self-imposed sacrifice. 
 
 The day after I left my room for the first time, Blondeau brought 
 me the list of the visiters who had come to make enquiries, and who 
 had left their names at my door during my recent illness. 
 
 Among these were the Princess de Ksernika, M. de Rochegune, 
 and M. Lugarto, Mademoiselle de Maran had also sent to enquire, 
 but had not called in person. 
 
 She never went near a house in which there was any illness, for it' 
 was a mania of hers to believe all disorders contagious. 
 
 I was surprised at not seeing Madame de Richeville’s name in the 
 list, my prejudices against her had in some degree disappeared, not 
 that I admitted in any sense the justice of her prejudices against 
 Gontran, for complete blindness is one of love’s symptoms, but her 
 fascinating manners attracted me in spite of myself, and I no longer 
 doubted that the interest which she felt in me was sincere. 
 
 “ Has not Madame la Duchcsse de Richeville sent to enquire after 
 me f ’ I enquired of Blondeau. 
 
 tm No Madame, but — 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 361 
 
 I saw by Blondeau’s countenance that she had something to tell 
 me about this list of visiters, and that she hesitated to do so. 
 
 “ What is the matter with you ? you seem embarrassed.” I still 
 allowed — though perhaps improperly — Blondeau, to continue upon 
 the same familiar footing with me as I had done in the days of my 
 childhood. 
 
 “ The fact is, Madame, that I am afraid of making you uneasy.” 
 
 “ Is it anything about M. de Lancry V I exclaimed. 
 
 “ No, no Madame, it is an extraordinary circumstance which took 
 place during your illness. I should not have mentioned it to you, 
 had it not concerned — though indirectly, that good gentleman M. de 
 Mortagne.” 
 
 “ Tell me quickly then ?” 
 
 “Well then, Madame, on the evening of the day after you were 
 taken ill, while you were asleep, I had gone down for a minute to 
 the pantry, M. Rene, your valet de chambre had just told us that 
 he was going to quit your service.” 
 
 “ True,” I said to Blondeau, recollecting that I had seen in the 
 morning a new servant whose countenance had struck me as not 
 being unknown to me — do you know why Rene left us ?” 
 
 “ To return into Lorraine where he was born, at least so he said.” 
 
 “ And where did his successor come from V 3 
 
 “ He lived in an English family, he does his work very well, seems 
 a very good sort of man, and very intelligent. But Madame, that 
 has nothing to do with what I have got to tell you, as you will 
 see. That evening then I was told that some one was asking 
 for me at the gate of the Hotel, and a note was put into my 
 hand, in which were these words in the handwriting of M. de 
 Mortagne, which I should recognize among a thousand. 
 
 “ My good Madame Blondeau , you may 'place every confidence in 
 the bearer, who will tell you what I expect you to do. I have heard 
 that Matilda is ill, and I particularly wish to hear every day how 
 she is going on.” 
 
 “ Signed 
 
 “ Mortagne .” 
 
 You may guess, Madame, that I did not hesitate for an instant. 
 I went down to the gate, I saw a hackney coach, the door of which 
 was half open, inside was a man whose features I could not dis- 
 tinguish in the darkness, and who said to me in a voice broken by 
 emotion, and one which was unknown to me. 
 
 “ Madame Blondeau, I have come from M. de Mortagne to enquire 
 after the Viscountess de Lancry.” 
 
 “ She is very ill,” I replied to the stranger. “ The physicians fear 
 a bad night.” 
 
 “ You will not be surprised at the mystery with which M. de 
 Mortagne inquires through me, his friend, after the state of Madame 
 
352 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 de Lancry’s health,” he added “ when I tell you that for your mis- 
 tress’s own sake M. de Mortagne’s name must not be pronounced in 
 her house. You had not concealed from me, Madame, “continued 
 Blondeau, the cruel scene which had taken place at the signature 
 of your contract, and I thought it very natural that M. de Mortagne 
 should take this roundabout way of enquiring after you, especially 
 as he was then no longer at Paris.” 
 
 “ Where is he then V’ I said to Blondeau. 
 
 “ The stranger added that M. de Mortagne had been called away 
 from Paris by some very important business concerning you, and to 
 bring which to a prosperous issue, it would be necessary for him to 
 envelope himself in the most profound mystery.” 
 
 “ What can that mean T 
 
 “ I know not, Madame.” However, the stranger told me it would 
 be impossible for him to enquire for me again at the gate of the 
 Hotel in that manner, without giving rise to remarks among your 
 servants, which would be attended with ill effects, and in order to 
 receive correct and frequent accounts of your health, he entreated 
 me in the name of M. de Mortagne to put a kind of bulletin every 
 day under a large stone by the garden rails, on the side nearest the 
 Champs Elysees , which he would come to fetch every evening, as at 
 night that spot was quite deserted, and that if I could sometimes 
 come myself he should feel very grateful for M. de Mortagne’s sake ; 
 as by that means he could obtain a still more detailed account, he 
 added that M. de Mortagne had once thought of sending a servant 
 to ask after your health, as it is customary to do, but that such im- 
 perfect information would not have satisfied his uneasiness — he told 
 me also that he had thought of asking me to write to him by the post 
 under a fictitious name, but that such a method would be the most 
 dangerous of all.” 
 
 “ And why so dangerous ?” 
 
 “ I do not know, Madame, he did not explain himself any further, 
 but he enjoined me expressly to tell you, once for all, that if you had 
 to write to M. de Mortagne in any grave emergency, you were only 
 to deliver your letter to Madame de Richeville in person, who would 
 take care that he should receive it.” 
 
 “ It is very strange,” I said to Blondeau, “ and what did you do 
 “ In compliance with M. de Mortagne’s request, I wrote a bulletin 
 of your health, and every evening under the pretence of taking a 
 walk before coming to sit up with you, I put my letter under the 
 rails, and the stranger came to take it. The day you were so very 
 ill, I wrote a hasty line, and took it as usual. Next day I could not 
 get out of your room till very late while you were getting a little 
 sleep — you were better. I was delighted, I wrote two lines for 
 M. de Mortagne, I ran to the rails, the night was very dark. 
 
THE OTtPHAN. 253 
 
 The stranger was doubtless waiting for me, for he said in a low 
 voice, 
 
 “ Madame Blondeau — is that you ?” 
 
 “ Yes, sir,” I replied. “ For God’s sake tell me how she is ?” he 
 exclaimed in a voice which seemed to me full of emotion. “ Better, 
 much better, tell M. de Mortagne,” I replied, “ this is the first time I 
 have left my poor lady’s room since yesterday, and I was bringing a 
 little note !” I believe the stranger fell on his knees when he heard 
 this good news, for the voice sank, as it were, quite low, and I heard 
 these words pronounced, as if some one were praying. 
 
 “ My God ! my God ! I thank thee, she lives, she will live !" ‘I 
 must hasten back to Madame,’ I said to the stranger, ‘ pray make 
 M. de Mortagne’s mind easy.’ ‘You need not fear, my good 
 Madame Blondeau, he shall not be long without hearing this happy 
 news.’ I was coming back to the house, when I fancied I heard in 
 the direction of the railings, something like stifled cries, the noise of 
 a struggle, and a hollow sound like the fail of some heavy substance.” 
 “ You terrify me ! And what next ?” 
 
 “ I listened again, but heard nothing. Growing uneasy, I hurried 
 back to the railings and listened, but still could hear nothing — 
 nothing at all. I called out in a low voice, but no one answered. 
 I thought I had been mistaken, and came back into the house.” 
 
 And the next day ?” I asked Blondeau. 
 
 “ Next evening just as the darkness was setting in, I carried a 
 note to the usual place, and waited some time, but no one came, so 
 I concluded M. de Mortagne’s messenger had not been able to come 
 so early. I withdrew, making up my mind to go and see early next 
 morning whether the note had been taken away as usual.” 
 
 “ Well P 
 
 “Well, madame, next morning I found the note still there. No 
 one had been to fetch it. No, Madame. But what is still more un- 
 fortunate, and makes me fear some shocking event — ■’* 
 
 “ Oh tell me !” I exclaimed, seeing Blondeau's hesitation. 
 
 “ Ah ! madame,” she continued, clasping her hands, “ conceive 
 my terror when I saw a large stain of blood close to the railings.” 
 “ Oh ! horrible ! and the note — the note ?” 
 
 “ I left it still there to see if any one would come and fetch it. 
 But it was in vain. It was only yesterday that I took it away. It 
 is, therefore, ten days to-day since this event occurred, for no one 
 during the last ten days has been to fetch the note. It appears 
 then, unfortunately, too true that it was M. de Mortagne’s mes- 
 senger who uttered the stifled cry which I heard.” 
 
 “ Alas ! it seems but too probable, and are you quite sure, that 
 you heard a cry — and something like the fall of a body ?” I said to 
 Blondeau. 
 
254 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Yes, yes, madame, and those marks of blood are only too clear 
 a proof that I was not mistaken.” 
 
 “ Listen to me, Blondeau, Monsiur de Mortagne lives opposite to 
 this house, you must go to-night and ascertain if he is at Paris, if 
 he is not I will go to-morrow to Madame de Rieheville and inform 
 her of it, for I am miserably uneasy, and as soon as Monsieur de Lan- 
 cry comes in, I will tell him all this, that he may unite with me in 
 an effort to clear up this sad mystery.” 
 
 “ Madame,” interrupted Blondeau, “ allow me to observe it 
 might be imprudent to mention this to the Viscount. You are 
 aware that he detests Monsieur de Mortagne, and the stranger told 
 me that the latter was occupied about matters of serious importance 
 to you. Alas ! madame, you are happy at present,” added the ex- 
 cellent woman, fixing upon me her eyes, bathed in tears, “ but who 
 can tell, perhaps a day may come, when you will be in need of 
 Monsieur de Mortagne’s protection, would it not be better not to 
 mention all this to any body for fear that something should get 
 abroad, attract people’s attention to Monsieur de Mortagne, and so 
 interfere with his projects, by dispelling the mystery which he 
 thinks necessary to employ ? Why should you tell this to the 
 Viscount 2 After all, I acted without your knowledge, and if any 
 one has acted wrong it is I. Besides what harm is there in giving 
 an account of your health to one of your relations, and the only 
 one who ever really loved you ?” 
 
 In spite of my unwillingness to conceal anything from Gontran, 
 I resolved to follow Blondeau’s advice. My uneasiness at the in- 
 fluence which Monsieur Lugarto exercised over my husband was 
 as painful as it had been before my illness ; that man always in- 
 spired me with profound terror, and I thought that some day I and 
 Gontran should, perhaps, be forced to seek the protection of Mon- 
 sieur de Mortagne. I fancied that the latter’s mysterious conduct 
 was for the purpose of defeating or penetrating Monsieur Lugarto’s 
 pernicious designs. In that view of the case, the disappearance 
 of Monsieur de Mortagne’s emissary awakened my fears. 
 
 In the midst of these anxieties Monsieur de Rochegune was 
 announced, I sent to request that he would wait for a few minutes. 
 I gave some orders to Blondeau and I soon rejoined Monsieur de 
 Rochegune, thanking heaven that by his means, perhaps, I should 
 now be able to hear something of Monsieur de Mortagne — for I 
 know the intimacy which subsisted between them. 
 
tiie orphan. 
 
 2 55 
 
 o — 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 M. de Rochegune appeared to me much changed, and very pale, 
 and looked more melancholy than usual. 
 
 “ As soon, madame, as I heard you were well enough to receive 
 visiters,” he said to me, “ I hastened to call, in order that I might 
 discharge a commission with which I have been entrusted by one 
 of my friends, who would be happy indeed to be reckoned one of 
 yours also.” 
 
 “ To whom do you allude, sir ?” 
 
 “ To the Duchess de Richeville, who having been forced to leave 
 Paris suddenly for Anjou, did not hear of your illness till after her 
 arrival in that province, when she was apprised of it by me. She 
 requested me to inform you how anxiously she has prayed for your 
 restoration to health, so that it will be a great consolation to her to 
 hear of your recovery.” 
 
 “ A consolation, monsieur % Has she met with any misfortune 
 then T 
 
 “ I fear so, madame, she went away quite suddenly, having writ- 
 ten me word that an unforseen misfortune compelled her to leave 
 Paris, and that she did not yet know the extent of the blow which 
 had fallen upon her. Her last letter has not diminished my un- 
 certainty, for she only wrote to me to request that I would become 
 the interpreter of her feelings to you.” 
 
 Involuntarily I recalled the kind of mysterious threat which M. 
 Lugarto had uttered to Madame de Richeville, and a secret pre- 
 sentiment whispered to me that the misfortune which had with- 
 drawn the Duchess from Paris, was in some way or other connected 
 with that man. 
 
 “ There is another person, sir, in whom I feel a most lively 
 interest,” I said to M. de Rochegune, “ and who is also a friend of 
 yours, M. de Mortagne.” 
 
 “ He has been absent from Paris for some days, madame, and at 
 his departure he was still suffering from illness, for it will require 
 the utmost care for a length of time to recruit his health which has 
 already become so grievously impaired.” 
 
 “ Do you know where M. de Mortagne is, sir ?” 
 
256 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 “ No, madame, and I regret it the more because I am on the 
 point of leaving France — and for a very long time, perhaps. 
 Before my departure I wished to do myself the honour, madame, of 
 taking your orders in case you should have any commissions to give 
 me for Naples, from which place I intend to embark.” 
 
 “ You are extremely kind, sir, but but I will not avail myself 
 of your obliging offer.” 
 
 M. de Roehegune was silent for a few moments and appeared 
 embarrassed. Twice he looked up at me, and twice his glance fell 
 beneath mine, at last, after some hesitation, he said to me with a 
 look of almost solemn gravity. 
 
 “ Madame, do you believe me to be a man of honour ?” 
 
 I looked at M. de Roehegune with astonishment. 
 
 “ You are the friend of M. de Mortagne,” I replied, “ and I was 
 enabled, by a fortunate hazard, to become convinced that you were 
 worthy of that friendship. In this very house, the scene of grati- 
 tude which I witnessed — ” 
 
 “ I implore you, madame,” said M. de Roehegune, interrupting 
 me, “ to suffer me to forget that time, for the memories which are 
 connected with it, are full of bitterness to me. I asked you, 
 madame, if you thought me a man of honour, because I must become 
 quite strengthened by your confidence, before I, who am a stranger 
 to you, I, whom, perhaps, you will never see again, can presume to 
 tell you what I have to say.” 
 
 “ I am certain, monsieur, that I may listen to you without 
 fear.” 
 
 “ I will speak then, madame, and with sincerity. Let me, how- 
 ever, say one word — Believe me, the man in whom you are kind 
 enough to recognize some nobility of disposition, is incapable of 
 concealing a thought of evil. If you did not know, madame, 
 several former events in my life, perhaps the step which I am now 
 taking would seem to you insulting and incomprehensible. Allow 
 me then to enter into a few details.” 
 
 “ I am listening to you, sir.” 
 
 M. de Roehegune seemed to be reflecting before he continued. 
 His gentle and melancholy countenance became pensive, and he. 
 proceeded in a voice which trembled slightly in spite of the visible 
 efforts which he made to vanquish his emotion. 
 
 “ The favorite project, madame, of M. de Mortagne and my father 
 had been to obtain your hand for me- — ■” 
 
 te Monsieur ! why recur to these by-gone plans — I entreat you 1” 
 
 “ Forgive me, madame, for mentioning the past and its projects 
 which are so uninteresting to you, but as I have had the honour to 
 tell you, these details are indispensable. I had often before his un- 
 fortunate voyage to Italy, heard M. de Mortagne tell my father how 
 unhappy a childhood yours had been, notwithstanding the rare and 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 25 7 
 
 excellent qualities with which you were endowed. The description 
 of Mademoiselle de Maran’s cruel behaviour towards you, aroused, 
 more than once, the generous indignation of my father. I was then 
 very young, but I shall never forget the interest I felt for your 
 melancholy position. Till then I had always lived with my father, 
 on one of his estates, and that, Madame, is to tell you that I had 
 always under my eyes the example of the noblest virtues. When 
 I heard M. de Mortagne relate some of Mademoiselle de Maran’s 
 actions, I discovered for the first time in my life, that perverse and 
 wicked people existed in the world. Whenever I saw M. de Mor- 
 tagne, I overwhelmed him with questions about you ; to me, madame, 
 you were suffering, and resignation personified. I was for some 
 length of time absent abroad, and often when I thought of my 
 father, and of France, I gave a feeling of melancholy remembrance 
 to the poor orphan girl who was abandoned to the wicked caprices 
 of an implacable woman. If you knew, madame, the unconquerable 
 hatred which I have always experienced towards a brutal abuse of 
 power, if you knew how warmly I have ever espoused the cause of 
 the feeble against the strong, you would feel no surprise at hearing 
 me speak thus of the profound interest which I already entertained 
 for you.” 
 
 “ And I am most grateful to you, sir, for it, believe me — ” 
 
 “ On my return I found M. de Mortagne at Paris, he came to in- 
 form my father and myself of the issue of that violent scene, at the 
 conclusion of which your conseil de famille, madame, had left you 
 under the guardianship of your aunt. It was then, for the first time, 
 that my father spoke to me of those projects which were destined 
 never to be realised. On my return from a campaign in Greece, 
 which I had arranged with M. de Mortagne, the latter wished to try 
 every expedient to open the eyes of your relations in order that 
 you might be rescued from the power of Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 You know madame, by what odious machinations our courageous 
 friend was detained for many years in the dungeons of Venice — 
 We thought he was lost to us for ever. That generous man had 
 inspired us with so lively an interest in your fate that my father 
 believed he was fulfilling a pious duty in endeavouring to replace 
 M. de Mortagne, as far as you were concerned.” 
 
 “ What do you mean, Monsieur V’ 
 
 “ My father used every exertion to become intimate with 
 Mademoiselle de Maran. In the noble delusion of his exalted soul, 
 he fancied that by the sole influence of reason and virtue he could 
 induce your aunt to change her behaviour towards you. He had 
 several interviews with her, but always found her inflexible. I can- 
 not tell you, madame, how deeply he regretted, and grieved for this. 
 By turns he employed, towards that woman, the language of severity, 
 menace, and supplication, but nothing could touch her.” 
 s 
 
258 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 “ I had never heard of this interference Monsieur, and I am at no 
 loss now to account for the aversion with which my aunt often spoke 
 of your father.” 
 
 “ After another absence abroad I lost him — Madame M. de 
 
 Rochegune was silent for a minute, his head drooped, he wiped 
 away a tear, and continued. “ On his death-bed my father 
 implored me, in the name of that friendship which existed between 
 ourselves and M. de Mortagne, to watch perpetually over the orphan 
 girl, who deserved for so many reasons the warm interest which our 
 friend experienced in her fate Alas ! madame, I could but utter 
 fruitless prayers for your happiness. I endeavoured in vain to obtain 
 an introduction to your aunt, the name which I bore was a sufficient 
 reason for my exclusion, and I was refused admittance to her house. 
 You were then, I believe, madame, about sixteen years of age. 
 Several times, excited by a kind of pious curiosity, which your situa- 
 tion inspired, I succeeded in meeting you, and your features bore an 
 in discribable expression of painful resignation, mingled with repressed 
 melancholy, which it broke my heart to witness. You will forgive 
 me — will you not ? for the mysterious interest which I took in 
 your existence. The sympathy which I experienced for you, 
 was, as it were, a religious legacy which my father, which M. de 
 Mortagne, our best friend had bequeathed to my heart. When un- 
 able to meet you, you were often the theme of conversation between 
 Madame de Richeville and myself. The uneasy and jealous watch- 
 fulness of Mademoiselle de Maran frequently prevented some of our 
 mutual friends from being admitted to converse with you. At the 
 slightest enquiry as to your future fate, and the projects which she 
 had formed on your account, Mademoiselle de Maran changed the 
 conversation, or refused formally to make any reply. A year passed 
 away in this manner. I received a letter from M. de Mortagne, who 
 after incredible efforts had succeeded in bribing one of his gaolers, 
 and in making his escape from Venice, Obliged to stop at Mar- 
 seilles by the fatigues which he had undergone, he wrote to beg me 
 to come to him immediately. I hastened to do so, I found him 
 almost at the point of death, but with his thoughts engrossed by one 
 sole subject — that of your future fate. I informed him that one of 
 our friends, Madame de Richeville had in vain attempted to procure 
 access to you. He asked me if you were in good health, if you were 
 beautiful. I described you to him, Madame, and even then, when 
 so near death, his eye lighted up with a ray of happiness and joy.” 
 
 “ Excellent friend !” I exclaimed. 
 
 11 Yes, madame, you have not a more fervent or a more devoted 
 one. I never left him, Madame de Richeville, braving appearances, 
 perhaps, but following the first impulse of her friendship and un- 
 alterable gratitude, came to pass some time at Marseilles ; she 
 brought with her one of the first physicians from Paris ; Monsieur 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 259 
 
 de Mortagne was saved ; as usual, his first care was for your fate 
 — afterwards his thoughts reverted to that projected union, which 
 had been the joy and hope of my father : that hope, which I had 
 once believed might be realized — is sufficient to give me, I had al- 
 most said the right, to implore you always to make use of my en- 
 tire and religious devotion to you. Monsieur de Mortagne, on 
 his arrival in Paris wished to have an interview with you, whether 
 Mademoiselle de Maran consented or not ; he wished to communicate 
 to you his projects ; we are so apt to believe what we wish, madame, 
 it appeared to me so enviable a fate to have it in my power to 
 make amends to you for a childhood and youth of so much un- 
 happiness, the partial friendship of Monsieur de Mortagne had 
 painted the future to me in such glowing colors, that I arrived in 
 Paris, almost partaking of the same hopes as those of my friend. 
 Suddenly two overwhelming pieces of news dissipated this beautiful 
 dream : your projected marriage with Monsieur de Lancry was 
 arranged, and Monsieur de Mortagne, having attempted too soon, 
 to travel, had again fallen dangerously ill at Lyons — they almost 
 despaired of his life. I immediately went to him, the news I had 
 to tell had such an effect on him that he was seized with a 
 violent fever, which lasted about a month. Some pressing business 
 obliged me to go to Paris before he did ; he arrived on the eve of 
 your marriage. As for me, renouncing a hope that I had so long 
 cherished I resolved to travel ; I put up my house for sale, and 
 then I had the honor of seeing you in it, madame, with Monsieur 
 de Lancry and Mademoiselle de Maran.” 
 
 “ Allow me to ask you one question, monsieur : do you know of 
 the conduct of Madame de Richeville towards me before my mar- 
 riage T 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune regarded me with surprise, and answered 
 with a tone of the greatest sincerity. 
 
 “ I do not know, madame, to what you allude.” 
 
 “ Will you then continue, sir?” said I to Monsieur de Roche- 
 gune. 
 
 I believed, with agony, that without doubt he was about to 
 speak of Gontran in the same terms as Madame de Richeville had 
 done. Notwithstanding the conversation of Monsieur de Roche- 
 gune had been full of delicacy, consideration and respect, I should 
 not have suffered the slightest attack against Monsieur de Lancry. 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune continued. 
 
 “ You will perceive, madame, by this long preamble, that for ten 
 years your fate has never ceased to occupy Monsieur de Mortagne, 
 my father, or me, unknown to you, I confess, but at least an interest 
 so lively and constant, may obtain for me the right to tell you an 
 important truth, however cruel that truth may appear. 
 
 “ Sir, I do not know what you hsve to say to me — but if it has 
 
2G0 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 reference to any accusation against Monsieur de Lancry, it is use- 
 less to prolong this conversation.” 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune looked at me with an astonishment that 
 was mixed with sorrow. 
 
 “ I see, Madame, that I have not the honor of being known by 
 you ; from the moment that you gave your hand to Monsieur de 
 Lancry, that choice, so honorable for him, placed him at once, in 
 my eyes, amongst those persons towards whom I should be happy 
 to prove my devotion ; one of the reasons which gives me courage 
 to come in all confidence to you, Madame, is, that what I have to 
 tell you concerns Monsieur de Lancry as much as yourself.” 
 
 This simple and noble explanation relieved me from a weight 
 upon my mind, which had been very great, but it also awoke my 
 fears with regard to Gontran. 
 
 “ What are you going to tell me, sir?” cried I, with emotion. 
 After a moment’s silence, he replied. 
 
 “ You often see Monsieur Lugarto, madame ?” 
 
 “ Yes, sir, and I should almost say, against my will, were he not 
 the friend of Monsieur de Lancry.” 
 
 “Do you know, madame, who Monsieur de Lugarto is ?” 
 
 “ Alas, sir, I do.” 
 
 “ Do you know, madame, that Monsieur de Lugarto passes all his 
 time now with Mademoiselle de Maran V 
 
 “ I did not know it, sir, on the contrary I have heard Mademoiselle 
 de Maran treat him with the most unmerciful irony.” . 
 
 “ Undoubtedly Mademoiselle de Maran treated him in that man- 
 ner until the day she found out that you, madame, had not a 
 more dangerous enemy than that man.” 
 
 “ That was sure to be so,” said I smiling with bitterness. “ My 
 aunt had almost announced to me that fresh treason.” 
 
 “ But you are ignorant, madame, of all the blackness, the in- 
 famy of this new machination of Mademoiselle de Maran. You do 
 not know what an infamous support she gives to the calumnies of 
 Monsieur Lugarto.” 
 
 “ And what calumnies, sir ? what such a man says ; would it be 
 believed ? and besides what can he say V 
 
 “ Oh ! nothing, madame, that he cannot justify — nothing either 
 but what is true, which renders his infamous scandal more fatal — he 
 says that Monsieur de Lancry is his intimate friend, and he proves 
 it by shewing himself for ever with you both ; he says that every 
 morning he sends you flowers, with which you adorn yourself, and 
 that is also true ; he says that the fetes he is going to give are 
 given for you ; he says that in the world you shew coldness towards 
 him, but that is only a pretence to cheat your husband ; he says, 
 in short, that you love him, madame.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 261 
 
 I looked at Monsieur de Rochegune in so stupified a manner that 
 he thought I had not heard, and he repeated — 
 
 “ Monsieur de Lugarto says that you love him.” 
 
 “ I love that man ! why it is madness, sir, who would believe it 1 
 who would allow such a thing to be possible ! without doubt I re- 
 gret bitterly the intimacy that exists between him and my hnsband, 
 I regret bitterly that I should be the object of attentions that I 
 hate and despise, but never, oh God ! can I imagine that any such 
 interpretation can be put upon them.” 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune regarded me with an expression of pity 
 and of grief. 
 
 “ Alas ! madame,” replied he after rather a long silence, “ it 
 costs me much to convince you of such a disagreeable truth ; but 
 your repose, and, shall I say it, the honor of Monsieur de Lancry 
 makes it a duty in me to undeceive you.” 
 
 “ Oh, sir, speak.” 
 
 “ You are very young, madame ; you are proud of the purity 
 and nobleness of your feelings ; you are proud of the love that you 
 feel, and of that which you have inspired in the man of your 
 choice ; you are proud, in short, of your happiness, because it is 
 noble and legitimate ; you disdain those infamous calumnies ; who 
 would believe them, you say ? listen, madam ; instead of supposing 
 the world, as it is, greedy of scandal and falsehood : believing in 
 evil, because vulgar and low minds have just intelligence enough to 
 repeat it, to dwell upon such scandals, suppose the world to be an 
 impartial spectator — what does it witness 1 You, young, handsome, 
 without experience, appearing already almost forgotten by your 
 husband, while he is devoting himself to a woman well known in 
 the world, and with a reputation that has often been compromised ; 
 that is not all, the friend of your husband lives in continual in- 
 timacy with you ; he accompanies you everywhere ; his character 
 is such that he is known to be incapable of forming a disinterested 
 friendship. He publishes everywhere the favours (forced ones I 
 doubt not), which he receives from you, these unfavourable ap- 
 pearances are strengthened by the jealousy which a woman placed 
 in your position, madame, cannot fail to inspire. Mademoiselle de 
 Maran pursuing still the same work of treachery and wickedness 
 as distinguished her care of your infancy, is now playing another 
 part. It was against her will, she says, that you married Monsieur 
 de Lancry ; she dreaded his want of constancy, of which he gives 
 now evident proofs, in his devotion to the Princess Ksernika. 
 Mademoiselle de Maran says also that she has represented to Mon- 
 sieur de Lancry, that he will drive you to some fatal plan of re- 
 venging yourself ; that your position is still more dangerous because 
 you so often see Monsieur Lugarto ; and that, notwithstanding some 
 prejudices she had against him, she cannot help confessing that he 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 So:?- 
 
 is gifted with some charming qualities, and just fitted to seduce & 
 woman — -this is not all, Madame ; prepare yourself for the last- 
 blow, more cruel than those that have preceded it, because it does 
 not attack yourself only. Mademoiselle de Maran gives another 
 reason why she regrets your marriage with Monsieur de Lancry ; 
 she affirms, that in consequence of the enormous debts contracted 
 by your husband before your marriage, your fortune is now much 
 embarrassed, and that — ” 
 
 “ You hesitate, sir,” I said to Monsieur de Rochegune, concealing 
 my indignation, not against him, but against the odious conspiracy 
 which seemed to unveil itself before my eyes. “ Continue, con- 
 tinue, I am prepared to hear all.” 
 
 “ And / to tell you all, madame, for happily I think I know the 
 means of frustrating such unheard of wickedness.” 
 
 u Continue, sir.” 
 
 “ Well, madame, your aunt has the wickedness to report that 
 Monsieur de Lancry, finding his affairs in embarrassment, has had 
 recourse to the assistance of Monsieur Lugarto, and that he is 
 under such obligations to that man as oblige him to assent to his 
 assiduities towards you.” 
 
 “ Oh ! my God ! my God !” I exclaimed, hiding my face in my 
 hands. 
 
 “ You shudder, madame, it is indeed an abyss of shame and 
 infamy, is it not ? you, so noble, and so pure, can hardly com- 
 prehend such a tissue of horrors, Y et, madame, believe a man who 
 has never yet invented a falsehood, such are the reports which 
 are circulated about you , Monsieur de Lancry, and Monsieur Lu- 
 garto ; and it is not a mere report without any apparent founda- 
 tion, unfortunately it is a conviction founded on appearances the 
 most unfortunate. Monsieur Lugarto has acted with most infernal 
 cunning, Monsieur de Lancry and you, yourself, madame, have 
 given the appearance of truth to these abominable calumnies. " 
 
 I was thunderstruck ; I understood, at last, all the instinctive 
 dread and aversion, that Monsieur Lugarto had always inspired me 
 with, I saw now the whole extent of the evil. 
 
 My suspicions of the nature of the obligations that Monsieur 
 de Lancry had contracted with Monsieur Lugarto, appeared to me 
 to be justified, on that point — without doubt Mademoiselle de Maran 
 was right. 
 
 Though without any experience in the world, I knew enough of 
 it to know that the most infamous reports would obtain credit, 
 unfortunately a thousand little circumstances which appeared to me 
 insignificant at the time, arose to my memory, as calculated to con- 
 firm the odious impression with regard to our relative position 
 towards Monsieur Lugarto, and to influence the world in the judg- 
 ment they would form of it. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 2G3 
 
 For a moment I felt myself quite overwhelmed ; I buried my 
 face in my hands and could not utter a word. 
 
 “ You see now, madame, that it required all the imperious 
 necessity of duty to induce me, in the absence of Monsieur de 
 Mortagne, to enter on this subject with you, now — allow me to 
 point out to you in what manner I can be useful to you ; under 
 these circumstances, you must, without losing a moment, acquaint 
 Monsieur de Lancry with what you have heard from me ; that he 
 may not doubt the truth of it, tell him all our conversation ; as 
 to the means of silencing these infamous reports, it is simply done ; 
 I have not quite forgotten the lessons of Monsieur de Mortagne ; 
 truth, however harsh or violent it may appear, is the one sure means 
 beyond any other of crushing treachery and falsehood. After you 
 have confided the vvdiole to Monsieur de Lancry, neither you ncr 
 he should change your manner towards Monsieur Lugarto ; a few 
 days hence you should give a party, and invite all your acquaint- 
 ances, Monsieur Lugarto, Mademoiselle de Maran, and myself ; I 
 will put off my departure till then, for I trust I can be of service to 
 you ; on that evening, madame, aloud, and in the presence of all 
 assembled, before that tribunal composed of people of the world, I 
 will accuse Monsieur Lugarto and Mademoiselle de Maran of having 
 vilely calumniated you, madame, and Monsieur de Lancry. Made- 
 moiselle de Maran, notwithstanding her audacity, and Monsieur 
 Lugarto, notwithstanding his impudence, will be overwhelmed by 
 so solemn an accusation ; then you, madame, and Monsieur de 
 Lancry, you will call upon that man and woman to repeat before 
 you, before all assembled, the unworthy falsehoods they have spread 
 about, to bring proofs of what they have asserted. Then, madame, 
 believe me, however prejudiced the world may be, they will be 
 forced to believe in the shameful infamy of those, who, confounded 
 by your just indignation, will be unable to clear themselves.” 
 
 “ You, yes, you are right !” exclaimed I, re-animated by the 
 noble language and generous advice of Monsieur de Rochegune. 
 “ Yes, it is an inspiration from heaven ! Blessings on you, sir, 
 who have suggested it — the truth must shine triumphantly in that 
 explanation. I shall shew neither pity or merey. Lie after lie, 
 I will follow it up, till those infamous creatures will be obliged to 
 confess their wickedness in the face of that very world, whom they 
 have made their accomplices hitherto, but who will now be their 
 judge !” 
 
 “ Right ! madame, right ! I shall then take my departure, more 
 easy and tranquillised for the fate of one towards whom I have 
 vowed the most unalterable fidelity.” 
 
 “ Ah ! sir, you are the worthy and noble friend of Monsieur de 
 Mortagne !” cried I, in offering my hand to Monsieur de Roche- 
 guno. “ In the name of Monsieur de Lancry, in the name of our 
 
264 
 
 THE ORPHAN . 
 
 everlasting gratitude, receive the assurance of a friendship no less 
 lively than your own. By this courageous step you have saved us 
 from great misfortunes. Never, oh ! never can we forget it.” 
 Monsieur de Rochegune respectfully took the hand I offered him, 
 cordially pressed it within his own, and said to me with emotion. 
 
 “ By the sacred memory of my father, I swear to he to you as 
 a brother — as the most devoted of your friends, will you agree to 
 it ? do think me worthy of your friendship, madame ?” 
 
 “ It is too flattering to us both to permit us to hesitate in agree- 
 ing to it with pride and joy,” said I. 
 
 Some one knocked at the door. 
 
 Blondeau entered. 
 
 “ What do you want ?” said I. 
 
 “ Madame,” replied she while looking attentively at Monsieur de 
 Rochegune, “ I have just received a letter which 1 was desired to de- 
 liver, without delay, to Monsieur de Rochegune.” 
 
 She gave me a letter, I gave it to Monsieur de Rochegune — he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 “ It is from Monsieur de Mortagne ; I had left word at home, in 
 case he arrived, that I was with you, madame — will you allow me 
 to read this letter ? it may interest you.” 
 
 I made a sign to Monsieur de Rochegune ; he opened the letter 
 and read it. 
 
 " Madame,” said Blondeau to me, pointing to Monsieur de 
 Rochegune, “ I know his voice' — it is him.” 
 
 “ Who r 
 
 “ It is the same person who came to enquire after you for Mon- 
 sieur de Mortagne.” 
 
 “ What is it you say ?” 
 
 “ As true as that there is a God in heaven, it is himself, madame, 
 I am sure I am not mistaken ; it is his voice, I assure you.” 
 
 While Blondeau was speaking to me, I examined the features of 
 Monsieur de Rochegune ; all of a sudden an expression of profound 
 anxiety took possession of them. I could not resist exclaiming — 
 
 “ What is the matter, sir ? Monsieur de Mortagne — ” 
 
 “ I must rejoin him this moment, madame — we must quit Paris 
 for some time, he is on the track of an abominable plot — he tells 
 me this, without explaining himself further.” 
 
 “ And this plot, whom does it menace ?” cried I. 
 
 “ Can you ask me, madame? You — you.” 
 
 II And Gontran — my husband ?” 
 
 “ Monsieur de Mortagne recommends you not to quit him ; if 
 he travels, travel with him, but above all, both for the sake of his 
 safety and your own, never to be absent from him a single 
 moment.’ 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 2G5 
 
 “ My God ! my God ! and whom does he suspect ? from whom 
 have we so much to fear V' 
 
 “ Need I tell you, madame? from Monsieur Lugarto. The im- 
 mense wealth of that man gives him immense resource, he is as 
 cunning as he is depraved. Monsieur de Mortagne, in order to 
 counteract his projects, has been absent, or feigned to be absent, 
 from Paris for some time past.” 
 
 “ But, sir, you leave me in cruel state of uneasiness.” 
 
 “ See the letter of Monsieur de Mortagne ; he writes in haste, 
 and gives me no particulars ; during the absence of Madame de 
 Richeville, he will not be able to send you any information, for it is 
 only through her means that he is able to write to you ; he fears 
 that many of your household are bribed, and the least indiscretion 
 on his part would render his designs abortive ; he is therefore 
 obliged to act in the shade and in silence. Adieu, madame, 
 I quit you better satisfied. If Monsieur de Mortagne thinks that 
 I can assist you in the explanation that you will bring about, I shall 
 have the honor to come and tell you so, if not, persist in the plan 
 I have marked down for you. It is the only one which strikes at 
 the root of the evil, and it must confound the wicked ones. But, 
 I have thought of something to make up for my absence, I will 
 write to Monsieur de Lancry all that I have told yGU, authorising 
 him to make use of my letter. Adieu, madame, Monsieur de 
 Mortagne tells me every minute is of consequence— exercise hope 
 and courage for you have bitter enemies.” 
 
 “ But we may count upon two very valuable friends said I to 
 Monsieur de Rochegune. Adieu, sir, you have undertaken a noble 
 task. May God support you through it.” 
 
 Monsieur de Rochegune departed. 
 
 “ It is him, madame, who was attacked and wounded. I am sure^' 
 said Blondeau. “ Did you remark how pale he was, and the scar, 
 which his hair did not entirely hide T 
 “ You are mistaken,” said I. 
 
 “ Oh ! madame, his voice is too sweet for me not to have re- 
 cognized it.” 
 
 The valet de chambre opened the door and announced Monsieur 
 le Comte de Lugarto. 
 
 Blondeau went out. 
 
 I found myself alone with that man. 
 
266 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE AVOWAL. 
 
 When I saw M. Lugarto make his appearance I prepared to quit 
 the room, but remembering the advice of M. de Rochegune, I re- 
 strained my indignation. M. Lugarto appeared anxious and em- 
 barrassed — an unusual circumstance with him, and he must have 
 read upon my countenance some of the emotions under which I was 
 labouring and which I repressed with difficulty. 
 
 I sate down near one of the windows, and looked out into the 
 garden, waiting for M. Lugarto to speak. After a considerable 
 silence he sate down at my side, and hastily said to me. 
 
 “ You have been very ill, I have felt extreme uneasiness on your 
 account, and you have no idea how much I suffered.” 
 
 “ I am perfectly aware, monsieur, of all the interest which you 
 feel in me,” I replied with a bitter smile. 
 
 “ You still hate me then T 
 “ Monsieur.” 
 
 “ Grod bless my soul, why deny it ? And yet what have I done 
 to you ?” 
 
 “ It is not for me to answer such questions, sir.” 
 
 “ But, after all, it is usual to tell people what subjects of com- 
 plaint one may have against them. Since your arrival in Paris I 
 have always endeavoured to make myself agreeable to you.” 
 
 “ You gave yourself a useless trouble, sir.” 
 
 “ Oh ! it was very easy to find out that ! The sole return you 
 made to all my attentions was contempt.” 
 
 “ That might have taught you, sir, that those attentions were * 
 disagreeable to me.” 
 
 “ But, once more, why is it so 1 you will not answer me. Were 
 those attentions then which every woman receives, if not with 
 complaisance at least with gratitude, an insult to you ?” 
 
 I raised my eyes, as if to call heaven as a witness to this man’s 
 execrable duplicity. He moved impatiently in his seat, and then 
 continued, endeavouring to give an affectionate and insinuating accent 
 to the natural harshness of his voice. 
 
 “ Come, come, do not be so ill-natured, let us talk like good 
 friends, for I am really your friend though you have done every- 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 267 
 
 thing hitherto to irritate me against you. But, I do not know how 
 it is, you have bewitched me. 1, who never forget those who wish 
 me ill, and who know how to prove to them that I do not forget, 
 find it impossible to keep any resentment against you, I forgive you 
 everything. The influence you possess over me is incredible ! At 
 first I could not understand that influence at all, then by degrees I 
 discovered — but you will be angry again — Really I, who am no 
 schoolboy, I, who am so well skilled in woman, hesitate, for the 
 first time in my life, to tell you — for you look so cold, so haughty — 
 that — that’s right, you are worse than ever now ; if you look at me 
 in that way, you are not taking the right method to make me speak 
 out.” 
 
 I gave M. Lugarto a glance of such proud and withering scorn, 
 that, in spite of his audacity, he hesitated for a moment, but he 
 soon continued, as if ashamed of having allowed himself to be dis- 
 concerted. 
 
 “ After all, I am a fool, I shall tell you nothing that you have not 
 guessed long ago, women are not blind, they are the first to perceive, 
 the feelings which they inspire. Well then, I love you, yes — love 
 you passionately.” 
 
 M. Lugarto uttered the last words in a voice which was low and 
 trembling with emotion. Thanks to M. de Rochegune’s warning, I 
 was prepared for this insolent confession, and not a muscle of my 
 face moved. M. Lugarto doubtless expected an explosion of indig- 
 nation on my part, and he appeared quite surprised at my self- 
 possession, and the silence which I maintained. 
 
 “ Yes, I love you to distraction,” he continued, “ I who never hitherto 
 knew ought of love but a few trifling and ephemeral caprices, I now 
 feel- when with you, an imperious longing, to fix myself, and for 
 ever. If you choose, we might manage matters admirably. Now 
 that I am admitted to an intimacy with you, we might lead a most 
 delightful existence. But you do not answer ! have I offended 
 you V 
 
 “ Go on, sir, pray go on.” 
 
 “ How strangely you address me ! Perhaps you think me in- 
 capable of an eternal fidelity to you 1 You are wrong, believe me, 
 I have engaged — perhaps in too great an excess — in all the pleasures 
 of life, and I should be delighted were it in my power to repose my 
 weariness in some gentle, some calm affection, my disposition — 
 which I fairly confess, is often a detestable one — would become much 
 improved — indeed it would. I am sure that if you would take the 
 trouble, you might make me much better than I am. Come then — do 
 try — what harm can it do you ? I will love you so much ! Oh ! 
 you do not know what it is to be loved by a man who despises all 
 other men ! You shall do anything you like with me, and every 
 body will say : look at Madame de T ancrv’s influence, she has con- 
 
268 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 trived to fix, to soften, and to mould to her own wishes that man 
 who was once the most ungovernable being in the world ! !” 
 
 If I had not felt by the violent emotions of my heart, that a fatal 
 crisis in my life was imminent, and that a fearful danger was darkly 
 gathered round myself and Gontran, this man’s incredible self- 
 sufficency, and his cynical vanity which was almost as odious as it 
 was ridiculous, would have made me smile with pity, but I was 
 labouring under the influence of cruel presentiments. 
 
 M. Lugarto terrified me, I fancied that in spite of his coarse 
 vulgarity he would not have dared thus to have spoken to me, 
 had he not felt he could do it with impunity — therefore, I said to 
 him clasping my hands together with terror. 
 
 “ What has happened, sir ? that you dare to speak to me in that 
 strain ?” 
 
 “ My language is very simple, notwithstanding — my God — re- 
 assure yourself — I am not exigeant — I ask nothing more than to be 
 allowed to entertain hope for the future and that you will shew a 
 little confidence in me for the present ; allow me to love you, take 
 no care for the rest ; only be true enough to me to promise not to 
 fight against the inclination which might speak to your heart in my 
 favour. Come now, confess you think me conceited to talk to you 
 in this way. I would lay a wager that you are offended. Well, you 
 are wrong — I speak the language of sincere love. The man who 
 really loves, always feels certain of making his passion shared, sooner 
 or later. How wayward you are ! Do smile away that savage 
 look. After all, what is it I ask of you % merely to suffer yourself 
 to be happy — you shall see — you shall see. Do at least answer me, 
 Matilda.” 
 
 As he thus addressed me, M. Lugarto approached and attempted 
 to take my hand. While listening to this villanous language, I almost 
 fancied myself to be dreaming, I was w r ell aware of this man’s im- 
 pudence, and I was well nigh tempted to ask myself whether I had 
 not unknowingly done something to deserve such humiliation. I 
 thought myself fatally punished for not having sufficiently shewn to 
 M. Lugarto the aversion with which he had inspired me. When he 
 attempted to take my hand I became exasperated with terror, shame, 
 and anger, and hastily rising, I exclaimed. 
 
 “ Leave the room, sir ! leave the room, this instant. Disgust and 
 contempt sometimes rise to such a pitch that the soul revolts, not- 
 withstanding the efforts which are made to restrain it. I tell you to 
 leave the room, sir !” 
 
 “ Are you then without pity — without heart ?” exclaimed M. 
 Lugarto. “ Is love to you an insult ? for I do love you, I swear that 
 I love you. If hitherto I have offended and annoyed you, I implore 
 you to forgive me, it has been the result of my bad education. And 
 then 1 have not been accustomed to meet often with women like 
 
V 
 
TIIE ORPHAN". 
 
 269 
 
 yourself— and that has spoilt me. My manners are bad,, I confess 
 it, but with one word, one word of the least affection, you might have 
 changed me, it would have been so sweet to me, to obey you. And 
 then I did not know what to think. When I saw you so indifferent 
 to my attentions, I thought that you did not understand what 
 those attentions signified, I knew not what to imagine in order to 
 make you understand that it was love : sometimes I was tempted to 
 depart, but the charm which everything about yon possesses re- 
 strained me in spite of myself. Come then, if you will not feel a 
 little interest in me, at least have a little compassion, command me 
 to do anything, tell me to go away, and I shall have the strength 
 to do it, but let me know at least that some day, perhaps, I shall 
 be recompensed for so cruel a sacrifice. Answer me — in pity 
 answer me — nothing — nothing — not one word — still that look of 
 implacable hatred and contempt ! Ah ! I am very miserable ! 
 And yet people envy me — me !” exclaimed M. Lugarto. 
 
 His cheeks were livid, the man wept, or pretended to do so, and 
 he hid his face in his hands. 
 
 If I had not been previously warned by M. de Kochegune of the 
 odious reports which this man had circulated, I might, perhaps, have 
 believed in his apparent sorrow, though without being touched by 
 it in the slightest degree. As it was, I perceived in it only an 
 insulting hypocrisy : and my sole feeling for the man was one of 
 horror. I approached the door, in order to quit the room, M. 
 Lugarto perceived this movement and placed himself before the 
 door. 
 
 I v, as frightened, and hastened back towards the chimney-piece 
 for the purpose of ringing the bell. 
 
 “ You wish then to drive me to despair !” he exclaimed in a 
 voice of emotion, and clasping his hands with an imploring air. 
 
 “ Oh ! tell me, tell me only, that you will allow me to attempt 
 to win your favor, that you will permit me to endeavour to vanquish 
 the aversion you feel towards me, tell me that at least — nothing 
 else 1” 
 
 And he fell at my feet. 
 
 I hastily rang the bell. 
 
 “ Oh ! that’s the case, is it ?” he exclaimed, turning pale with 
 rage. “ Nothing then is of any avail with you, prayers, tenderness, 
 or humility. Well then, I will employ other methods. On your 
 knees, proud woman, do you hear % on your knees you shall implore 
 me to have pity on you.” 
 
 There was so much confidence, and such a deadly maliciousness 
 in the man’s accent, that I shuddered with terror. 
 
 A valet de chambre now made his appearance. 
 
 “ Tell my servants to go away,” said M. Lugarto with the greatest 
 coolness, and before I could say a word. Nothing could apparently 
 
270 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 be more simple than this order. The servant left the room. I was 
 so stupified with astonishment that I could not stop him. M. Lu- 
 garto who had repressed his rage for a minute, now gave way to all 
 his fury. He became actually hideous, his eyes were blood-shot, his 
 whole body trembled convulsively, and his colourless lips were con- 
 tracted with a kind of nervous twitching. I could not move a 
 step : and I awaited with anxiety for some terrible revelation. 
 
 “ Ah ! you choose to struggle with me !*' he exclaimed. “ You 
 don’t know my power then ?” And yet you saw me give check- 
 mate to that insolent Princess, with a single word ? As for that 
 beautiful Duchess you little know the tears of blood which her 
 impertience to me is forcing her to shed now. Y ou do not know that 
 if I choose — do you hear ? if I choose I should only have to say one 
 word — one single word, to make you faint away with terror. Ah ! 
 you think that when a man like me wishes for anything, he wishes 
 in vain ! ah ! you think I do not know how to revenge myself on 
 those who outrage me ! ah ! you think that while you were heaping 
 insulls and contempt upon me, I was not givingyou back comtempt 
 for contempt, insult for insult. A pretty fool I should be indeed ! 
 But I would have you know that, thanks to me and your aunt whom 
 I have managed to bring over to my side, you are already lost in 
 the opinion of the world. Whatever you may do hereafter, an in- 
 curable wound has been inflicted upon your reputation. The world 
 judges, condemns, and strikes for a thousand times less than that. 
 But I would have you know that, in order to complete and perfect 
 my plausible calumnies, the Princess, by my command, has made 
 advances to your husband, and that he, also by my commands, is un- 
 faithful to you : this is a fact well known to all, and the world says 
 that you avenge yourself on your husband, by intriguing with me. 
 Now I defy you to put an end to these reports, and these appear- 
 ances. Whether you wish it or not, I shall be there, always close 
 to you. I frighten you, I horrify you, so much the better — you will 
 only have one means of escaping from my persecution. I am tired 
 of easy conquests, and I would rather triumph, as they call it, by 
 terror than by love. I fancy I can see you now, imploring — de- 
 spairing — terrified — your beautiful eyes bathed in tears — so much' 
 the better — you will be more enchanting than ever.” 
 
 As he uttered these execrable words, the man’s glassy eyes seemed 
 to gleam with a savage ferocity. For some minutes I had listened to 
 him mechanically as if I were the sport of some frightful nightmare, 
 when suddenly I heard a noise in my husband’s apartment. It was 
 his step, he was about to enter the drawing-room. I clasped my 
 hands and exclaimed — “ Thank thee, oh God ! he is coming.” 
 
 M. Lugarto looked at me with astonishment. The door opened 
 and M. de Lancry appeared. 
 
T1IE ORPHAN. 
 
 27 L 
 
 0 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 
 
 At the sight of Gontran, my first impulse was to run to him and 
 exclaim — 
 
 “ Save me ! save me !” 
 
 “ The disorder of my looks struck Gontran ; he exclaimed fixing 
 a look on Monsieur Lugarto.” 
 
 “ Matilda, what is the matter ? in the name of God what has 
 happened V 
 
 Monsieur Lugarto began to laugh immoderately, and said to 
 Monsieur de Lancry. : 
 
 “ Why my dear sir, do you know your wife is quite incomprehen- 
 sible, she has actually taken up seriously nothing but a foolish joke.” 
 
 u Y ou are a villain, — cried I, — I will keep no terms with you — in 
 exposing your conduct to my husband, I do not endanger his life ; 
 you would not dare to fight him; he would not degrade himself by 
 fighting with you.” 
 
 “ You hear how she treats me, said Monsieur Lugarto to Monsieur 
 de Lancry ; acknowledge that I am very good humoured.” 
 
 “ A truce to joking, sir ! cried Gontran ; I see by the agitation, 
 and the paleness of Madame de Lancry, that she is greatly hurt ; what» 
 ever may be my friendship for you, I will never permit you to forget 
 for a moment the respect which you owe to my wife.” 
 
 “ Y ou take it in that way, my good fellew, do you ? that alters the 
 case,” said M. Lugarto,” we will not talk about it any more, let us 
 forget all this nonsense, and think of something else. What are you 
 going to do this evening T 
 
 “You hear him !” I exclaimed, “ this man tells you to forget what 
 he calls nonsense ! He will ask you to give him your hand and then 
 he will betray you again. No — no — my noble, my generous Gontran, 
 whatever pain the discovery may inflict upon your kind and confid- 
 ing heart, I will tell you everything ; this man whom you believe to 
 be your friend must be unmasked, you must here in his presence, 
 learn all the scandalous reports which he is circulating about myself 
 and you, you must know that in this very room, just now he declared 
 his infamous love to me, not merely in the guise of unmeaning 
 
272 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 gallantry — he is a liar — no — no — he first spoke of his love a tone 
 of entreaty, with tears in his eyes, with soft and hypocritical words/’ 
 
 “ Sir !” exclaimed Gontran, turning crimson with rage, and cast- 
 ing a glance of fury upon M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ Pray hear her to the end, my good fellow, I repeat again, she 
 has no cause for all this fine indignation, and that she is mistaking, 
 a stupid joke for a serious insult.” 
 
 “ And then,” I continued, “ when he saw the contempt, the disgust, 
 which his words inspired in me, he had recourse to threats of 
 vengeance, and to the most horrible revelations. The world — he 
 said — believes you to be faithless to me, Gontran, the world — he 
 added — believes that I avenge myself for your desertion, by an 
 intrigue with that man. Did you not say this, sir ! did you not say 
 
 this r 
 
 M. Lugarto smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 “ Monsieur Lugarto, take care !” said Gontran in a hollow voice — 
 “ human patience has its limits, and for a long time — oh ! a very 
 long time ; I have been patient, do you hear ?” 
 
 M. Lugarto dropped his eyes to the ground and made no reply. 
 Proud of his confusion and hoping to rid myself for ever of him, 
 after this cruel scene I continued. 
 
 “ But this is not all ; he has allied himself to our most mortal 
 enemy, Mademoiselle de Maran, in order to proclaim everywhere 
 that you, you, my noble Gontran, are obliged to endure his presence 
 even while you execrate it — that the attentions he pays to me are 
 tolerated by you. And do you know why ? because our fortune is 
 compromised by your debts, and that you have been obliged to have 
 recourse to this man’s money.” 
 
 For an instant I was terrified at the expression of rage which 
 animated Gontran’s features. 
 
 He rose, seized M. Lugarto by the arm and said to him in a voice 
 of thunder. 
 
 “ Do you hear what my wife says, sir 1 do you hear ?” 
 
 “ At last, oh God ! we shall be delivered from that fiend ?” I ex- 
 claimed clasping my hands. 
 
 M. Lugarto had remained seated. 
 
 When Gontran approached him, he did not make the slightest 
 movement, but coolly releasing himself from M. de Lancry’s grasp, 
 he fixed his eyes upon him and said to him with an ironical calmness 
 at which I was thoroughly astonished. 
 
 “ Why, my good fellow, you are decidedly mad !” 
 
 “I tell you, sir, that the reports which you circulated are infamous 
 — and that I will not suffer.” 
 
 “ You will not suffer !” slowly re-iterated M. Lugarto, with a sar- 
 castic laugh. “ Ha ! ha ! ha ! upon my word he is delightful with 
 his “will not suffer.” Come, Monsieur le Vicomte de Lancry , you 
 
THU ORPHAN. 
 
 273 
 
 don’t mean to pretend that you have the presumption to menace 
 me ?” 
 
 “ Yes — yes — whatever may happen, for once at least I .” 
 
 “ Whatever may happen, Viscount V exclaimed M. Lugarto in a 
 shrill voice, interrupting my husband, “ whatever may happen 1 
 pray be kind enough to say that again.” 
 
 Gontran was in a state of inexpressible anguish, his handsome 
 countenance which was painfully contracted, expressed hatred, rage, 
 and despair, but you would have said that some mysterious influence 
 prevented the explosion of those violent feelings. 
 
 At last they burst forth, M. de Lancry exclaimed, stamping 
 violently, 
 
 “ Well then ! yes, yes, whatever may happen, since you drive me 
 to extremities I will insult you, do you hear ? 1 will insult you 
 
 before the world ; we shall fight, and I will kill you, or you shall 
 kill me, the earth can no longer bear both of us, this existence is 
 insupportable to me. If it were not for the fear of causing you 
 an infernal joy, I should have already delivered myself from a life 
 which is odious to me.” 
 
 There was such profound despair in these words of Gontran, and 
 they menaced me with another new and so formidable calamity, 
 that I felt my strength give way. 
 
 “ You will not insult me, and I will not fight you,” coolly re- 
 plied M. Lugarto. “ In the first place, as madame justly observed, 
 I should be afraid to do so, and then you would not condescend. 
 But let us return to your whatever may happen. Is this a defiance — 
 eh, Viscount ? Do you wish me to say, this very instant; before 
 madame — ” 
 
 “ Stop, oh ! stop ! not another word,” exclaimed Gontran, with 
 an effort — “ in pity — not a word !” 
 
 He threw himself into an arm chair, covered his eyes with his 
 hand, and exclaimed in a voice broken with emotion. 
 
 “ Oh ! my God ! oh ! my God !” 
 
 I was stupified with astonishment. 
 
 “ Come, come, one has a deal of trouble in convincing you, my 
 dear and intimate friend, that I am not so black a devil as I am 
 painted,” continued M. Lugarto. “ What do I ask ? merely to live 
 in peace with you and your wife, to realize the equilateral triangle 
 of the Italians — that is to say, of course, all in an honourable way — 
 for you are a naughty, jealous man, a regular Othello. Let’s see now, 
 what do you grumble at l Taking it for granted that 1 am paying 
 court to your wife, what does that signifiy to you ? She is virtuous, 
 she adores you, and execrates me ; these are three solid reasons for 
 your being easy on that score ; it is in fact a species of Cerberus 
 with three heads, which sufficiently defends your conjugal felicity. 
 
 * But,’ you will tell me, ‘ the world talks and thinks that you are 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 on the best possible terms with my wife.’ God bless my soul, let 
 the world talk as much as it likes, an’t you sure of your wife’s 
 fidelity ? Come, Viscount, be philosophical, and do not attach any 
 importance to foolish words. ‘ But,’ you wLl say again, ‘ these 
 rumours, false as they are, are still annoying.’ Possibly they may 
 be so, but you know that of two evils you must choose the least, 
 and since the world’s chatte rings frighten you, just consider, my 
 good fellow, what that same world would do, if I took it into my 
 head to prate about certain circumstances — if I related how in 
 London — ” 
 
 “ For God’s sake, sir !” exclaimed Gontran with an imploring 
 air. 
 
 M. LugartO looked at me with an ironical smile. 
 
 “ There, you see, this fine bully has become as supple as a glove ; 
 you, who are wisdom personified, do advice him to be reasonable. 
 Viscount de Lancry you are in my power, you have no means of 
 escape except by assassinating me, or committing suicide yourself. 
 Now I know you are too well-bred a man to have recourse to such 
 extreme methods. This point then being established, let us pro- 
 ceed. Come, my good fellow, let us forget your wife’s foolish 
 fancies, let us all three live together in a delightful intimacy as we 
 have hitherto done, let the world prate if it likes, and let us enjoy 
 life, which is so brief. However, as I am not to be insulted with 
 impunity, and as I am determined to be avenged for this charming 
 Matilda’s contempt, I will punish her, and I condemn her to come 
 and dine with you to-day at my house, in order to celebrate her 
 convalescence. There will only be a small party — the Princess 
 Ksernika, and three or four men and women friends of mine. I am 
 not joking, my good fellow, you hear what I say — I choose it. 
 Madame de Lancry will make a fuss, but I leave you the task of 
 persuading my fair enemy, you will be at no loss, I am certain, for 
 some excellent reasons to give her — ” 
 
 I gazed at Gontran in stupefaction, he did not utter a word, his 
 eyes were fixed, and his head drooped down upon his breast. M. 
 Lugarto got up and said, 
 
 “ Is not all this funny enough, my good friends ? Who would 
 suppose that at this minute, in one of the prettiest hotels of the 
 faubourg Saint-Honore, on such a fine spring day as this is, one of 
 those incredible scenes is taking place which would make the fortune 
 of a romance writer ? And yet it is a fact. Life in this world is, 
 after all, a much less prosaic affair than people are apt to fancy. 
 Well then, good bye for the present — we dine at seven. You 
 shall try my new cook, he comes from Prince Talleyrand’s and 
 I hear wonders of him. Ah i while I think of it, you shall send 
 back your carriage after dinner, and we will all go to Tivoli, 
 there is to be a charming fete there, and they say the Duchess 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 275 
 
 of Berry will be present. I have set my heart upon being seen 
 there with you, your wife, and your adorable Princess, you naughty, 
 faithless swain you. So then it is all settled, I will bring you 
 back to your house, and before we return we will go and have 
 some ices a^ Tortoni’s — you see I am quite bent upon continuing 
 to compromise Matilda, and I flatter myself I make choice of a 
 right good place of exhibition for that purpose. Now then my 
 good fellow, you have heard what I have said — eh V ’ 
 
 “ I have, sir,” said Gontran in a low voice. 
 
 “ I depend then upon you and my fair enemy. But just take 
 the trouble of answering me, will you % I have told you that I 
 choose it, and that ought to be sufficient for you, I should 
 think.” 
 
 “ Madame de Lancry and myself will dine with you, sir,” re^ 
 plied Gontran with a desperate effort. 
 
 M. Lugarto left the room with a glance of infernal triumph 
 at me. 
 
 -o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 EXPLANATIONS. 
 
 After the departure of M. Lugarto, neither myself or Gontran had 
 courage to utter a single word, and I became immersed in the most 
 desponding reflections. It was too true then, a mysterious, a terrible 
 secret had placed M. de Lancry in the power of M. Lugarto. For 
 the first time my husband had talked of destoying himself, this 
 dreadful thought had never occurred to my mind, and I shuddered 
 when I reflected upon Gontran’s resolution. My heart had been 
 painfully wounded when he exclaimed, addressing himself to M. 
 Lugarto. Where it not for the fear of causing you an infernal joy. 
 I should have already put an end to my existence. Alas ! he forgot 
 then that I should survive him ! I then bitterly reproached myself 
 for holding so little place in Gontran’s existence, I reproached my- 
 self for having — if the expression may be allowed — loved so badly. 
 Nor was this any vain humility of heart, but a conscientious feeling. 
 Doubtless he had always found me, devoted, attentive, submissive, 
 and passionately affectionate, but I must have made a bad use of those 
 noble sentiments, since he could die without regretting me. From 
 that instant I acquired that bitter conviction which sprang from the 
 most fervent love, and from a profound distrust of myself — it is 
 always ones own fault when one is not loved. 1 clung with all my 
 strength to this conviction, paradoxical as it certainly was, and I 
 
276 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 exerted all the resources of my mind, and all the power of my heart 
 to invest it with an undeniable authority. 
 
 This conviction allowed me to accuse myself, and to forgive 
 Gontran. Women who have loved with that sublim^ blindness, 
 that magnificent abnegation of self ’ which constitutes passion, will 
 understand the happiness with which one seizes the slightest oppor- 
 tunity of excusing the cruelty of the beloved one, even when his 
 acquittal involves the sacrifice of oneself. Now that years and mis- 
 fortunes have matured my judgment, it seems to me that this ob- 
 stinate indulgence must also, perhaps, be attributed to the imperious 
 necessity which we feel of justifying bur choice in our own eyes, even 
 at the cost of our most cherished hopes. Once influenced by this 
 self-distrust, I reproached myself besides, for not having known 
 how to inspire Gontran with sufficient tenderness to make him tell 
 me the melancholy secret of which M. Lugarto made so fatal an 
 abuse. 
 
 When I saw Gontran’s wretchedness I almost accused myself of a 
 crime in having shewn at first so much contempt towards M. Lu- 
 garto, and in not having better known how to dissemble my aversion. 
 Then instead of becoming exasperated against us, perhaps that 
 man might have been inoffensive. I was happy, and yet terrified at 
 this last reflection. So formidable was the power of my love ! I 
 whose pride was so great, especially since I had belonged to Gontran, 
 I now was almost tempted to regret, that I had behaved with 
 dignity towards the most contemptible, the most wicked of men. 
 
 I feel some surprise now at the prolonged silence which continued 
 between myself and Gontran after this scene, but M. Lugarto’s words 
 had so clearly established his dreadful power over Gontran, that we 
 were compelled to remain for some time as it were stunned by this 
 deadly blow. 
 
 M. de Lancry kept his face hidden between his two hands. 
 
 I approached him, trembling as I did so — “ My love ” — I began. 
 
 “ What more would you have V he hastily exclaimed in an angry 
 tone of voice. And lifting up his face which was as dark as night 
 in its expression ; he gave me a look which made me turn pale. 
 
 “ This is what your caustic behaviour, your absurd prudery have 
 brought us to ? a formal explanation ! Y ou must surely be satisfied 
 now ! I hope that my position with regard to Lugarto, is sufficiently 
 clear and well defined.” 
 
 “ What do you mean, Gontran ? was I to listen then without in- 
 dignation to that man’s horrible avowals ? But my honour, your 
 own.” 
 
 “ Oh ! madame, who wants you to compromise your honour or 
 mine ? There is a wide abyss between actual guilt, and harmless 
 coquetry. If you had possessed a particle of intelligence you would 
 have guessed from the first words in which I mentioned Lugarto to 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 277 
 
 you, that he was a man to be treated considerately. But no, not- 
 withstanding my most express recommendations you have twenty 
 times over exerted yourself to irritate him. Blase d, and vicious as 
 he is he takes a detestable delight in contradiction and resistance. 
 
 A few affectionate common places from you would have rid us of him 
 at once. But you have played too sharp a game with him, and now,” 
 added M. de Lancry with rage, “ now his patience is exhausted. In 
 spite of myself I allowed some harsh expressions towards him, to 
 escape me. I know now that he is paying his court to you, and I 
 must be coward enough, not only not to strike him publicly, 
 but even to appear to night, to-morrow, day after day in society 
 with you and him. This is what you have done madame.” 
 
 « I ! j i” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, you, and you only ! Since you were as sure of yourself, 
 as lam of you, you should, without accepingthis attentions, at least not 
 have repulsed them with such brutality. You should have gracefully 
 and kindly told him that such assiduities were compromising to you, 
 and that if he wished to please you, he must commence by obeying 
 you in that point ; had you done this he would have complied, for you 
 would not thus have deprived him of all hope, or exasperated him 
 against us. But was it for me, pray, to enter into such details 1 
 Was it for me to tell you the part you were to play under these cir- 
 cumstances 1 Was it not your duty to spare me a task so humiliat- 
 ing and ridiculous I If you loved me really for myself I should not 
 have had to tell you all this. “ A virtuous woman does not merely 
 show she is such by parading her virtue,” he added with a bitter 
 smile, “ but she must take care also not to place her husband in a 
 position from which he can only escape by dishonour or a crime. 
 Do your hear, madame V’ 
 
 “ Good God ! Gontran !” 
 
 “ You talked of pecuniary obligations. I would give my existence 
 to have no others towards him ; know, unhappy woman, that he 
 holds in his hands more than my existence — do you hear ? more than 
 my existence '? Now do you understand.” 
 
 “ Oh God ! I do understand ! Forgive me, Gontran, be kind, be just 
 now that I acknowledge myself that I was wrong. You know that 
 before my illness I had formed a resolution of loving you for yourself, 
 and that resolution, dearest, I will always keep. Our situation is a 
 horrid one — I do not ask you what this secret may be, no — no- — but 
 yet, what can we do ?” 
 
 “ Dine with him this evening, first of all, and then go to that 
 f6te.” 
 
 “ Be it so, we will go — we will go — Oh ! you shall see, I will be 
 quite courageous. I will talk to this man without betraying my 
 aversion to him. If necessary I will even smile upon him. The world 
 may interpret my conduct as it likes, it matters little to me so that 
 
278 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 I have no cause to blush in the eyes of God or in yours. 1 have 
 more resolution, Gontran, than you suppose. Come, let us look 
 attentively at our situation. This man can destroy you, I abhor 
 him as much as I love you, Gontran, yet I shall be able, I promise 
 it you, to conceal the horror with which he inspires me — but still 
 if he persists, if some day he says to me — to me, for that man 
 dares to do anything — 1 I will reveal the secret which has power 
 to destroy your husband, unless you will love me.” 
 
 Gontran reddened with indignation, and exclaimed — 
 
 “ I will kill him and myself afterwards !” 
 
 “ That man was right then, dearest, a crime or a suicide — well, 
 let it be so then, at all events you shall not die alone. This then 
 is the worst aspect of the circumstances in which we are placed. 
 Now listen to me. This morning M. de Rochegune came, to take 
 leave of me, and while here, he received a letter from M. de Mor- 
 tagne. Do not look so angry, Gontran, our situation is a melan- 
 choly one, and M. de Mortagne is, perhaps, our only friend. He 
 knows, lam ignorant how, that M. Lugarto has formed some sinister 
 designs against you and myself. He says he has left Paris in order 
 to defeat those designs, and he advises me, above all, never to leave 
 you, should you be compelled to travel. Doubtless all this is very 
 vague, but at all events it is consolatory to reflect that we have 
 friends who are watching over us.” 
 
 “ And M. de Mortagne must do a great deal to make me forget 
 his cowardly insults !” exclaimed Gontran. 
 
 “ Believe me, dearest, he will willingly do all that is necessary 
 for that.” 
 
 “ But, after all, he was not mistaken, he warned you that I should 
 make you very unhappy,” said Gontran with repressed indignation, 
 “ and you must acknowledge the justice of his prophecy.” 
 
 a Dearest,” I said, attempting to smile. “ I certainly like M. 
 de Mortagne very much, but I am compelled to confess that in this 
 instance he is wrong, it is not you, but that implacable man, who 
 makes me so unhappy. While you were free did you not diffuse 
 around me every possible felicity ? Before my marriage, was I not 
 indebted to you for delightful days radiant with hope and love V 
 “ And those hopes have been fearfully deceived, have they 
 not V ’ 
 
 “ Gontran, you well know that is not the case. Did not my 
 happiness at Chantilly attain the limits of the ideal ? W 7 ho tore 
 us from that Eden ? that odious man ! Was not his arrival the sig- 
 nal of all our sorrows ? Do I not know now that in paying at- 
 tentions to that woman of whom I was so jealous, you were only 
 obeying still the influence of that man ? Was it not necessary for 
 his frightful projects that you should appear to be unfaithful to me % 
 Once more, Gontran, I do not accuse you.” 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 279 
 
 “ You are still, always, and in spite of everything a noble and 
 excellent creature.” said Gontran looking at me with emotion. 
 “ Ah ! cursed be the day when I listened to the advice of my 
 uncle and Mademoiselle de Maran. What a life have I entailed 
 upon you, unhappy girl ! Oh ! it is frightful, and sometimes I 
 have a horror of myself.” 
 
 And v/ith these words, Gontran, rushed out of the room. 
 
 Misfortune sometimes confers great decision of character. I re- 
 solved to follow Gontran’s directions and to treat M. Lugarto with 
 affability. Now that I am no longer under the charm of my love 
 for M. Lancry, nor under the impression of my terror at his f riend, 
 I can scarcely conceive how I could resign myself to such a 
 humiliating concession, after the odious scene which had taken 
 place that morning. 
 
 But then I had no hesitation, the great object was to gain time, 
 M. de Mortagne was acting also on his side, and perhaps he had 
 hopes of discovering a way to rescue Gontran from M. Lugarto’s 
 influence. 
 
 We set off* for the dinner and fete. It was magnificent weather, 
 and I recollect a trifling but whimsical circumstance which occurred 
 on the way. At the corner of the avenue de Marigny our carriage 
 was compelled to stop for some minutes. A poor man, hideously 
 ugly and deformed, came up and began to beg. Gontran, I believe, 
 did not hear him, and the beggar cast an angry look at us, saying 
 with a menacing gesture, as our carriage drove on, ‘ oh these rich, 
 how proud they are ! and well they may be, they are so happy !’ 
 
 By a spontaneous and sympathetic movement Gontran and I 
 looked at each other, as though to protest against this accusation 
 of happiness. 
 
 And yet, alas ! that poor man’s mistake was an excusable one, he 
 saw a young couple in a splendid carriage, environed with that luxury 
 which the vulgar take for happiness, and which often conceals so 
 many sorrows, so many incurable wounds. Could that poor man 
 guess the misery which distracted our bosoms ? And then that 
 sumptuous fete to which we were on our way, with a hidden and 
 vague terror, as though we were going to the rack ! What melan- 
 choly lessons are taught by these contrasts between the appearance 
 and the reality. 
 
 We arrived at M. Lugarto’s. 
 
 My discouragement and melancholy had given way to a kind of 
 feverish and factitious animation. M. Lugarto received us with a 
 smile upon his lips, he was triumphing in the pride of his ex- 
 ecrable wickedness. 
 
 His house, which I had never seen, was encumbered with the 
 most magnificent articles, but crowded together and accumulated 
 without the slightest taste. In the midst of this chaos of ad- 
 
280 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 mirable productions, certain incredible littlenesses denoted the 
 instincts of a sordid avarice. The vast and opulent mansion, in 
 spite of its proportions, was completely destitute of elegance, noble- 
 ness and grandeur. 
 
 We found already assembled the persons whom M. Lugarto had 
 announced to us, I looked now and then at Gontran in order to 
 acquire fresh courage for my task, and M. Lugarto seemed struck by 
 my altered manners towards him. 
 
 All that I could do was to display towards him a politeness almost 
 friendly, at which he appeared more surprised than touched, and he 
 watched me narrowly as if he mistrusted appearances, his attentions 
 to me, however, were most obsequious. Gontran sate next to the 
 Princess de Ksemika, gloomyand absorbed in reflections, he scarcely 
 replied to that woman’s coquettish advances. M. Lugarto whispered 
 to me, as we left the table, that he was the happiest of men now that 
 I seemed inclined to renounce my unjust prejudices against him, and 
 added that he bitterly regrettted the rage he had given way to that 
 morning, but that I must excuse it in consideration of the impetu- 
 osity of a love which he could not master. , 
 
 “ Alas !” I thought while listening to him, “ who once would have 
 told me that, three months, after my marriage, after that union 
 which to me was one so adorably excellent and holy, I should be 
 compelled to listen to such words as those, without being able to 
 give vent to my shame, my disgust, my indignation? Oh profana- 
 tion ! oh sacrilege ! a love which my dreams had pictured so noble, 
 elevated, and pure ? 
 
 After dinner, in compliance with M. Lugarto’s desire, he, the 
 Princess, Gontran, and myself set off* for Tivoli in our host’s car- 
 riage. My tortures continued. 
 
 M. Lugarto gave me his arm, the Princess leant upon my hus- 
 band’s, there were a great many people at this fete, and almost all 
 the persons about the court, whom their functions retained at 
 Paris, were present. 
 
 I had been ill for some time, and I had not appeared in public 
 for several weeks, so that I was deeply surprised at a certain vague 
 change which had taken place in the manner of my own and M. 
 de Lancry’s reception. The men returned his bow with a cold 
 and distant air, and some ladies whom he spoke to scarcely answered 
 him at all. M. Lugarto, on the contrary, was received as usual, 
 and his countenance was radiant with satisfaction. I fancied that 
 I saw the men look at him with envy, while several ladies pointed 
 to me in a contemptuous manner. 
 
 I remembered M. de Rocliegune’s revelations, and shuddered 
 when I reflected on the ignominious rumours, of which myself 
 and Gontran were, perhaps at that very moment, the objects, so 
 overwhelming were the appearances against us. 
 
THE OiVPIIAN. 
 
 281 
 
 I felt ray strength giving way, and said imploringly to M. 
 Lugarto — 
 
 “ Our fate is in your hands, sir, have pity upon us, and let us 
 leave this garden.” 
 
 “ The Duchess de Berry is approaching, madame, and it is in- 
 dispensable that Gontran and you should go and pay your respects 
 to her,” replied M. Lugarto. 
 
 In fact, madame had come to this f6te and she was at this 
 moment entering a tent where dancing was going on. 
 
 My hopes revived a little, when I was presented to madame ; 
 after my marriage she had been kind enough to receive me with 
 that graceful and touching cordiality which none but herself 
 possessed. 
 
 “ Mademoiselle Matilda de Maran is quite a treasure, you are 
 really more fortunate than you deserve to be, Monsieur de Lancry,” 
 she had said, half smiling, half seriously, to Gontran. 
 
 I thought that madams, by receiving us with her accustomed 
 kindness, would silence the malicious rumours of the world, and 
 that in conformity with courtly custom, all who were present would 
 regulate their own conduct towards us by that of madame. 
 
 I took Gontran’s arm, and we approached her Royal Highness. 
 
 My heart was beating as if it would break. 
 
 Those persons who accompanied madame , upon seeing us ap- 
 proach, drew themselves back in such a way as to leave a large 
 vacant space between ourselves and the Princess. 
 
 I observed with terror that madame s countenance, which was 
 usually so kind in its expression, suddenly darkened and became 
 haughty and severe. 
 
 In spite of his assurance, M. de Lancry could not help trembling 
 slightly. He had scarcely bowed to madame when her Royal 
 Highness, with a look at my husband in which freezing disdain 
 contended with insulted pride, turned her back upon us without 
 saying a word to him, as if she were indignant at our audacity in 
 presenting ourselves before her. 
 
 M. de Lancry turned pale with grief and rage, and I felt so 
 much compassion for him that I found strength to vanquish my 
 offended feelings. I said to him in a firm voice — 
 
 “ Dearest, forgive madame. Kind and generous as she invariably 
 is, she must have been involuntarily prejudiced by the calumnies 
 of the world. Come — come. Do not say a word of this to M, 
 Lugarto, do not let us give this fresh triumph to his malice.” 
 
 I drew M. de Lancry away almost by force. 
 
 A great number of persons who were anxious to see madame, 
 had followed her, so that we were enabled to conceal our con- 
 fusion in the crowd, and to rejoin M. Lugarto and Madame de 
 Ksernika. 
 
282 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ I have a notion that the Duchess de Berry received you most 
 flatteringly,” ironically observed M. Lugarto to M. de Lancry. 
 
 “ Yes, yes, most flatteringly indeed,” replied Gontran with an 
 air of constraint. 
 
 I was leaning on Gontran’s arm, and his heart beat so quickly 
 and violently that I could feel its pulsations. I perceived that he 
 restrained himself with the utmost difficulty. 
 
 “ I will not keep you, my good fellow, any longer from Madame 
 de Ksernika,” said M. Lugarto. 
 
 I pressed close to Gontran, he whispered to me — 
 
 “ One instant more — take his arm — I entreat you.” 
 
 He spoke, it seemed to me, in a singularly troubled voice, and 
 he then added in a loud tone. 
 
 “ And I, my dear Lugarto, will not keep you any longer from 
 Madame de Lancry, we understand each other marvellously well. 
 But I thought we were to go and have some ices at Tortoni’s this 
 evening ?” 
 
 “ Certainly,” replied M. Lugarto, “ I was just thinking of it 
 my good fellow, and I should not have let you off that part of our 
 'programme for the evening ,” he added with a sarcastic smile. 
 
 “ Nor I either, my good friend,” replied Gontran. 
 
 I was in despair, for I had hoped we had got to the end of that 
 miserable evening. All Paris would be at Tortoni’s, and our ap- 
 pearance would be the signal for fresh calumnies. 
 
 As we returned to our carriage, M. Lugarto whispered to me — 
 
 “ De Lancry did not take me in, the Duchess de Berry gave him 
 a most humiliating reception. I saw that, by the radiant counten- 
 ances of the people who accompanied her Royal Highness, for, 
 thanks to the natural advantages for which you are both so re- 
 markable, Gontran is as much detested by the men, as you are by 
 the women. You see now that the town and the court , as people 
 used to say, are thoroughly convinced that we are on the best pos- 
 sible terms together — you need not, therefore, have any more fears 
 for your reputation. Suffer me to love you then, and you shall see 
 that I will make myself supportable. Already, this very evening, 
 you have treated me with more kindness. Really I am so fond of 
 you, that, if you choose, you might take away from me all power 
 over your husband.” 
 
 I made no reply, we got into the carriage, and arrived at Tor- 
 toni’s. To my great annoyance, Gontran took us into a salon on 
 the first floor, where I recognised several persons who had been 
 witnesses of the disdain with which madame had received my hus- 
 band. My confusion reached its height, when I perceived a good 
 many people looking at us with a malicious smile. 
 
 “ At last,” said Gontran, “ the time is come.” 
 
 Not knowing what he meant, I looked at him. The expression 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 283 
 
 of his countenance terrified me. I recollect that frightful scene, 
 as well as if I were present at it now. Gontran was sitting by me, 
 and opposite to him were Madame de Ksernika, and M. Lugarto. 
 M. de Lancry got up and in a loud and passionate voice said to M. 
 Lugarto. 
 
 “ Monsieur Lugarto, you are a scoundrel !” 
 
 The man, stupified notwithstanding his audacity, was at a loss for 
 an answer. Several men hastily rose from their seats. You might 
 have heard a pin drop in the salon. I had not strength to move — 
 I fancied myself in a dream ; Gontran however went on. 
 
 “ Monsieur Lugarto you dare to attack in the world Madame de 
 Lancry ’s reputation, and to hint that I am a complaisant husband 
 because I am under certain obligations to you. I tell you here to 
 your face that you are an impostor ! Madame de Lancry has al- 
 ways treated you with the contempt which you deserve, and you 
 have shamefully abused the intimacy which existed between us, in 
 order to give an appearance of reality to your cowardly calumnies.” 
 
 The first, the only idea which occurred to me was, that the man 
 would destroy Gontran by revealing the fatal secret which was in 
 his possession. 
 
 “ My God ! my God !” I exclaimed bursting into tears. 
 
 Two or three women whom I had met in society, but whom I 
 only knew by sight, came up to me, and surrounded me, with the 
 most touching anxiety ; while several men interposed between 
 Gontran and M. Lugarto. 
 
 The latter, as his first astonishment wore away, became doubly 
 impudent, and I heard him reply to M. de Lancry with every ap- 
 pearance of constrained and offended dignity. 
 
 “ I do not understand, sir, the motive of your reproaches. I 
 here declare, publicly, that no one has a more profound respect for 
 Madame de Lancry than myself, and I am completely ignorant of 
 the calumnies to which you allude. As to any obligations which 
 you may be under towards me, I am not aware that I ever uttered 
 a syllable about them to any one. Your attack, sir, is so violent, 
 your accusation such a serious and especially such an unforeseen 
 one — for we have been spending the evening together — that I can 
 only attribute it to some fancy of the moment, which I lament 
 without being able to explain.” 
 
 “ Miserable rascal !” exclaimed Gontran, losing all self-command 
 at the infernal perfidity of M. Lugarto’s answer. 
 
 “ Every one here,” said the latter, “ will, I hope, understand 
 the position in which, sir, I am placed with regard to yourself, and 
 understand also that there are certain insults which one must know 
 how to put up with.” 
 
 “ And will you put up with this besides?” exclaimed Gontran. 
 
 I heard the sound of a blow. 
 
284 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 There was a moment’s disturbance, above which was heard M. 
 Lugarto’s voice, who, as they were dragging him away, exclaimed 
 with an accent of fury which I shall never forget — 
 
 “ Insult for insult, sir, we are quits. To-morrow all Paris shall 
 know how I revenge myself !” 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A VISIT. 
 
 I passed a dreadful night. Scarcely had M. de Lancry brought 
 me home, when a nervous attack came on, which deprived me, for 
 the time, of all consciousness. I know not what took place during 
 the long hours which this attack lasted ; it ceased, however, about 
 four o’clock in the afternoon. My poor Blondeau was sitting at 
 my bed-side, and weeping in silence. I put my hands to my fore- 
 head to bring together, as it were, my recollections. When I re- 
 membered the scene which had taken place the evening before, I 
 had no doubt that a duel had taken place. 
 
 Alas ! even that was the least of my fears, Lugarto had it in his 
 power to destroy Gontran, and perhaps that man had already re- 
 vealed the secret. 
 
 “ Where is M. de Lancry V I exclaimed. 
 
 Blondeau gave me a glance of compassionating tenderness and 
 said to me — 
 
 “ The Viscount went out this morning, madame, he then re- 
 turned, and afterwards went out again.” 
 
 “ And without being wounded T I exclaimed. 
 
 Blondeau appeared much surprised. 
 
 “ Wounded ? madame — nothing of the sort. Had he been 
 wounded he could not have set out on his journey.” 
 
 “ Journey ! what can you mean V ’ 
 
 “ The Viscount, when he returned this morning, gave directions 
 for his travelling 7iecessaire, and two or three trunks to be prepared; 
 and he then set off, taking with him his new valet de chambre, and 
 leaving this letter for you, madame.” 
 
 “ Gone ! gone ! without me — and M. de Mortagne’s warnings !” 
 I exclaimed. “ Oh ! there is some sad fatality in this !” 
 
 I hastily opened Gontran’s letter. 
 
 He informed me, in a few lines, that in consequence of the scene 
 of the evening before, a meeting had taken place between himself, 
 and M. Lugarto ; in which the latter had been slightly wounded. 
 My husband added that he found himself compelled to absent him- 
 self for a few days only, in order to bring to a termination the im- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 285 
 
 portant affair with which I was already acquainted, he expressed 
 much regret at being compelled to leave me alone, but said that I 
 must easily understand how important and decisive were the 
 measures which he was on the point of attempting to take. 
 
 “ And by which barrier did M. de Lancry leave Paris ? What 
 road did he take 1” I enquired of Blondeau, for being desirous 
 to follow M. de Mortagne’s express directions never to be separated 
 from Gontran, I was anxious to rejoin him. 
 
 “ I have not the least idea, madame.” 
 
 “ You must send directly to the post aux chevaux , and find out 
 which road M. de Lancry took, and thanks to this information 
 which I shall take care to acquire at every stage, I shall, perhaps, 
 be able to overtake him. We will set off this instant — you must 
 accompany me.” 
 
 “ Set off, madame, in your present state ? it is impossible.” 
 
 “ I tell you it is absolutely necessary — you have no idea how im- 
 portant it is.” 
 
 “ What are we to do then, madame, in order to find out the 
 direction which the Viscount has taken 1 he is not gone in his own 
 carriage, or with post-horses, but he sent for a hackney coach and 
 went away in it with his valet de chambre .” 
 
 “ My God ! my God l” I exclaimed in despair. I could not 
 understand this hasty departure of Gontran’s, and I feared some 
 •fresh villiany of M. Lugarto’s. 
 
 I sent Blondeau to enquire if the latter was at Paris, the answer was 
 in the affirmative ; and it was added that his wound was a somewhat 
 serious one, and that he would not be able to leave the house for some 
 days. I became terribly uneasy, and shuddered when I recollected 
 that M. de Mortagne had, as it were, foreseen this absence of Gon- 
 tran’s, since he had expressly enjoined me not to quit M. de Lancry. 
 It was in vain that Blondeau questioned those of our servants who 
 had been present at my husband’s departure, I was unable to ob- 
 tain the slightest information. I spent the rest of the day and the 
 ensuing night in inexpressible anguish. I could not understand 
 why M. Lugarto ha I not put into execution his threat of ruining 
 Gontran, perhaps he had done so, and perhaps my husband, com- 
 pelled to depart precipitately in order to escape the consequences 
 of that revelation, had been unwilling to alarm me. 
 
 I knew not where to seek for information, and I resolved at last, 
 at whatever suffering to myself, to pay a visit to Mademoiselle de 
 Maran. She was more likely than any one to tell me what 1 
 wished to know, for she eagerly collected all the odious reports 
 which concerned us. I was just setting off to my aunt’s house, 
 when she was announced. Under any other circumstances this 
 visit would have been odious to me, but now I almost thanked 
 heaven for having sent me Mademoiselle de Maran. And yet when 
 
286 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 I remarked my aunt’s ironical and self-satisfied air, I almost re- 
 gretted the wish which I had formed. 
 
 “ Well, well,” she began, “ what’s all this fuss about ? What 
 troubles in your conjugal establishment, my dear girl? in that 
 charming model of a complaisant and easy-going menage ? People 
 talk of all kinds of tragedies, but I am sure — and lucky enough 
 that it is so — they will turn out mere farces after all.’' 
 
 “ I do not know to what you allude, madame, 1 am at this 
 moment terribly uneasy about M. de Lancry, for I have not seen 
 him since that cruel scene which will at least have had the effect 
 of overthrowing all the calumnies of which myself and M. de Lan- 
 cry were the victims.” 
 
 “ What are you talking about, my good girl 1 Are you mad 
 enough to fancy that the scene at Tortoni’s produced any good 
 effect ?” 
 
 “ I believe, madame, that those respectable persons who heard M. 
 de Lancry so clearly establish the infamy of M. Lugarto, will not 
 suffer themselves to become the echoes of reports which are still 
 more ridiculous than they are odious. If no one will defend us for 
 the future, at least no one will attack us.” 
 
 “ Don’t talk to me about your proofs : that husband of yours 
 has proved nothing at all ! Do you suppose people were the dupes 
 of all that fine piece of acting ?” 
 
 “ Acting ! madame, acting 1” 
 
 “ Certainly, how could Lugarto make any other answer than he 
 did, to Gontran’s savage attack 1 Was he to confess before all the 
 world that you had been excessively good-natured to him ! And 
 so, my dear girl, you are simple enough to suppose that yourself 
 and your husband are as white as snow, because M. Lugarto pro- 
 claimed your innocence in the face of Tortoni’s chandelier ! Why 
 common politeness alone must have obliged him to do that, and a 
 man must be a low, vulgar fellow to behave in any other way. 
 My testimony cannot be suspicious, for I think this Lugarto the 
 greatest fool in the world with his mania for a title and his stars of 
 gold in a field of silver , but I must own with the rest of the 
 world, that on this occasion he behaved with all manner of. 
 moderation and reserve, and with a nonpareil sort of dignity. Has 
 he not, for the sake of your beautiful eyes, allowed himself to be 
 menaced, insulted, and almost knocked on the head by your hus- 
 band, without a word of complaint, but on the contrary, in defence 
 of your reputation ? Come — come — Galaor and Orondates were 
 monsters of brutality and conceit compared to this poor Lugarto.” 
 I could not find a word to reply to Mademoiselle de Maran, and 
 my experience of the world was already such a sad one that I did 
 not doubt such an interpretation as my aunt suggested, might be 
 put upon the conduct M. de Lancry and M. Lugarto. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 287 
 
 Completely overcome I suffered my head to droop down upon 
 my bosom, Mademoiselle de Maran proud of her triumph, continued 
 with a cruel pleasure. 
 
 “ The worst part of the business for Gontran is, that, besides all 
 the rest, Lugarto behaved admirably in the duel, he was wounded ; 
 honor, as they call it, was satisfied, and after all, this fine Croesus 
 might very well have refused to meet Gontran at all — as according 
 to general report, your worthy husband is unfortunate enough to 
 owe an enormous deal of money to his antagonist. Now, between 
 ourselves, re-imbursing a creditor by running him through the 
 body is a curious way of paying one’s debts. But since Lugarto is 
 satisfied with that kind of money, no one has any right to com- 
 plain. It only proves that he loves you to distraction, and even 
 since his wound, I fairly tell you he never mentions your name, 
 but with all the most touching pastoral and Corydon-like winn- 
 ings imaginable.” 
 
 “ And so, Madame, since that scene M. de Lancry and myself 
 have fallen a little lower in the opinion of the world,” I replied 
 with a calmness that surprised Mademoiselle de Maran, “ and 
 M. Lugarto on the contrary, excites the most touching interest V’ 
 
 “ You speak like an oracle, my darling girl, that is just the 
 case, neither more or less, and you see me quite agitated and 
 overcome in consequence. I just dropped in to tell you the news, 
 and to say, rather late in the day perhaps, but better repent late 
 than never, that I am in despair at having consented to your 
 marriage with Gontran. Who would ever have thought he would 
 turn out so badly 1 Do you know that Mortagne, crack-brained 
 fellow as he is, was not so far short of the mark, after all ? But 
 whatever any one might say, or any one might think, there was 
 no possibility of driving that Beau Mari out of your head, poor 
 little one ! only think, hardly four months after marriage and 
 behold you with a husband, condemned, ruined, unfaithful ! really 
 it is enough to break one’s heart ! I know well that you will tell 
 me the conduct of your unfaithful husband, may have justified 
 you in giving him tit for tat — and that Lugarto is by no means 
 without his merits in spite of his yellow wax countenance, his 
 epilepsies, and his mania for title. Nevertheless, when they 
 speak to me of your engouement for him I am disgusted and in- 
 dignant.” 
 
 “ Really, Madam !” 
 
 “ Really — but how well you take all I say to you ! you do not 
 seem to care a fig about it !” 
 
 “ No, Madame — you see I am quite calm — I am even touched 
 at the feeling which dictates the consolations that you have given 
 me.” 
 
 “ And you may well feel it — but did I tell you that when they 
 
 
 % 
 
288 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 spoke to me of your penchant for Lugarto, I was disgusted, I said 
 to those scandal mongers, 1 You will be every one of you furiously 
 out in your calculations, if you knew the why and the how of the 
 taste of the little viscountess de Lancry for Monsieur Lugarto — 
 there is in that young woman a sort of courageous abnegation of 
 self, something in the style of the heroines of old, a kind of cross 
 between Portia and the Mother of the Gracchi !’ But it is true 
 what I am telling you. To see you now so calm who would think 
 that your husband was rendering you the most miserable of women, 
 and that whether right or wrong your reputation and his are gone 
 for ever 1 but pray tell me, now that I think of it, if its wrongfully 
 that they accuse you, how frightful that must be for you ! ” 
 
 “ Listen, Madame,” said I to Mademoiselle de Maran with a 
 degree of sang froid which confounded her, “ you are come here, 
 to enjoy your triumph, to see if your designs have been well ac- 
 complished, to see if the young wife is as unhappy as the young 
 girl, the infant, was made. Is it not so, Madame ?” 
 
 “ Go on, I shall answer you presently. It is astonishing how 
 clear sighted you are.” 
 
 “ Well, Madame ! I am going to inflict on you a terrible blow — 
 I am going by one stroke to avenge myself for all the evil you 
 have done to me, and you still wish to accomplish.” 
 
 “ It is wonderful 1 but you do not frighten me at all, little 
 one. 
 
 “ Look steadfastly at me, madame, listen to the tone of my 
 voice, remark well the expression of my features — you who have so 
 much penetration, see if I lie.” 
 
 “ To the fact — to the fact,” said Mademoiselle de Maran with 
 bitterness. 
 
 “ Well then, madame, I love Gontran as much as I have ever 
 loved him, do you hear ? I love him with passion. I love him 
 even better than before, for he is unfortunate — in that love con- 
 sists my strength — my courage. It is my consolation — thanks to 
 that love — I have already emerged, wounded perhaps but still 
 smiling, from the most cruel struggles. Thanks to that love, in 
 short, I defy the future, with a calm and serene brow.” 
 
 There was such an accent of truthfulness in my words, my 
 countenance animated by the force of my convictions, was doubt- 
 less so radiant, that my aunt, unable to conceal her rage, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 “ I really believe she may be telling the truth ! After ail there 
 are women fools enough to bewitched by a man in this manner ! 
 Stupid wretches, you might knock their brains out with a bludgeon 
 and they would still cry out with all manner of languishing and vo- 
 luptuous transports, just like the dupes of the deacon Paris in their 
 convulsions — Oh 1 delicious pleasure ! oh ! ineffable rapture /” 
 
TIIE OrtPHAN. 
 
 289 
 
 Then with an involuntary return to her former habits my aunt 
 squeezed my arm violently, and exclaimed, 
 
 “ You must be either blind, mad, or an idiot then ?” 
 
 My aunt’s fury had a beneficial effect upon me, my love for 
 Gontran was understood, and that love was able and certain to 
 console me for everything, since Mademoiselle de Maran was so 
 enraged at perceiving that I felt it. 
 
 “ You ought to be shut up in a mad-house,” repeated my 
 aunt. 
 
 “ I love him, madame, and that is all I have to say to you.” 
 t “ She will drive me distracted with all these sugar plum devices 
 of hers in their various tones of sweetness — I love him ! I love 
 him!! I love him!!! A fine answer upon my word! You love 
 him, but he has ruined you — but he owes enormous sums to this 
 Lugarto — but you will be reduced to beggary the instant that man 
 shall exact payment.” 
 
 “ I shall share that beggary with Gontran, madame.” 
 
 “ But he is dishonored in the eyes of the world.” 
 
 “ He is not so in mine.” 
 
 “ But he despises you — but he has allowed you to be compromised 
 by this Lugarto.” 
 
 “ Gontran is secure of my love.” 
 
 “ He is so secure of it that he loves you no longer.” 
 
 “ But I love him , madame.” 
 
 I know not with what accent I pronounced these last words, but 
 Mademoiselle de Maran stamped violently and furiously exclaimed, 
 “ The devil himself has got into her head ! this love of hers has 
 turned into madness, she is incurable now.” 
 
 u Yes — oh ! yes ! you have spoken the truth, mademoiselle, it is 
 a madness, but at least it is a holy and a noble one ! It concen- 
 trates all the powers of my heart, all the energies of my soul upon 
 Gontran. All that is not for him exists not for me — to live his 
 life, however hard, however painful, however humiliating that life 
 may be, is my sole desire : you are right, I am mad. What is 
 madness but an exaggerated feeling which swallows up all other 
 feelings ? yes, then I am mad. Like the mad, I have cherished, 
 adored, and intoxicating recollections which come every instant to 
 cast a ray over my soul, and to transport me into an ideal world ; 
 the recollection of those ineffable days which I spent with him, 
 when I was so proud of being beautiful and young, because he 
 loved that youth and that beauty.” 
 
 “ But he is tired by this time of your beauty, and as to your 
 youth that is a fine advantage ! You will only have the longer to 
 suffer.” 
 
 “ You, madame, are no competent judge of these questions of 
 youth and beauty, or rather you can appreciate them too well — and 
 u 
 
290 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 it is that which causes your rage. But there is justice in heaven, 
 and it forces you to feel the tortures of envy' — It has reserved a 
 terrible punishment for you, the punishment of seeing me, in spite 
 of all, and for ever, happy, happy too in him, who, according to 
 your calculations, was to inflict upon me my most cruel sufferings ! 
 Be assured, madame, lie might say to me to-morrow — ‘ Depart — I 
 detest you’ — and even then he could not tear from my heart that 
 treasure of worshipped recollections, on which I could exist for 
 ages. Let Gontran be however contemptuous, however unpitying, 
 he cannot make the past never to have taken place, that past as 
 glorious in its enchantments as some fairy tale — that past in which 
 I will take refuge when the present becomes sombre and ob- 
 scured.” 
 
 “ Ha ! ha ! how surprising and diverting she is with her dear 
 little past ! Don’t talk such nonsense to me ! Was it not for 
 your money he married you ? If you had been as ugly and wicked 
 as the seven capital sins he would have married you just the 
 sams.” 
 
 “ You may judge then, madame, how happy I feel at being rich, 
 beautiful and affectionate, all at once.” 
 
 “ But this is intolerable ! but a strait jacket is the only thing 
 for such frenzy !” exclaimed my aunt, losing all command of her- 
 self. “ But, after all, he will die some day, he must die, this be- 
 loved and handsome idol of yours ! How will you console yourself 
 then ? ha ! ha ! ha ! I’ve got you there, answer me that.” 
 
 “ In this world I will pray to God for him, in the next I shall 
 meet him again. My existence, madame, will thus be passed be- 
 tween prayer and hope.” 
 
 My aunt hastily rose, and exclaimed. 
 
 “ Pooh, pooh ! this is a wager, a sheer piece of obstinacy and 
 bravado of which I am not the dupe, you are so proud that you put 
 a good face upon your misfortunes ! you would sooner burst with 
 despair and rage than cry before me ! Very well, my dear, just 
 as you like. You are happy, very happy, superlatively happy, an’t 
 you 1 Much good may it do you. I was disposed to pity your 
 sorrows, but I find that you are blessed with such a robust tempera- 
 ment as far as the pains of the heart are concerned, that I shall 
 trouble myself no more about it. It was my duty, as an act of 
 charity, to tell you what people said about you and your handsome 
 Alcindor, but you think it all very simple and natural. So much 
 the better. Only don’t expect now that I shall take your part 
 or pity you in the least. We shall see where this fine obstinacy 
 will bring you to.” 
 
 My aunt went away infuriated. 
 
 1 exulted in my firmness and in the kind of revelation for which 
 I was indebted to my aunt’s visit. Perhaps had it not been for her 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 291 
 
 violent attacks I should not have seen so clearly into my heart — I 
 should never have dared to put to myself the questions which she 
 had asked me. There are some suppositions so painful or so hor- 
 rible, that the heart instinctively refuses to linger upon them, but 
 once admitted, and once solved, one is almost happy that they have 
 been raised. My aunt’s visit then had produced a contrary effect 
 to what she had expected. 
 
 This discussion enlightened me still more as to the profoundness 
 of my devotion to M. de Lancry. Before, I might have doubted 
 myself, but now doubt was impossible, for I had considered, without 
 shrinking, the most terrible hazards that my affection could under- 
 go. Alas ! that powerful conviction was but too much needed 
 that I might resist the fresh blows which menaced me. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 A fresh misfortune now assailed me. My poor Blondeau beeame 
 ill, and my medical attendant seemed astonished at this indisposition 
 which was almost a sudden one, and which, without being serious, 
 kept the excellent woman in a continual state of strange torpor and 
 drowsiness. My uneasiness on Gontran’s account increased more 
 and more. I knew not in whom to confide, and I sent to Madame 
 de Riche ville’s. She was, however, still in Anjou, and the probable 
 period of her return was uncertain. 
 
 M. de Mortagne had not appeared in Paris since the day on 
 which he had addressed a letter to M. de Rochegune, at my house. 
 How, bitterly I now regretted Ursula, my only friend ! I might 
 at least have told her my sorrows, even had she been unable to 
 advise me how to act. 
 
 She often wrote to me, and her letters were sad and melancholy 
 ones. She was unhappy, not that her husband was deficient in at- 
 tentions, and complaisance towards her, but lie did not understand 
 her. She complained of the monotony of her existence, and regretted 
 our childhood. Since my entrance into society, 1 had not formed 
 an intimate friendship with any one of my own sex, even while I 
 was compelled to acknowledge the noble qualities of Madame de 
 Riche ville, I always in spite of myself felt a vague kind of jealousy 
 in regard to the Duchess. She too had loved Gontran ! My con- 
 dition therefore was a totally isolated one, I was surrounded by ser- 
 vants who had but recently entered my service ; almost my whole 
 establishment had been renewed, and of my two maids, the one of 
 older standing had not been with me more than six weeks. Blon- 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 292 
 
 deau's indisposition therefore deprived me of the only person upon 
 whose friendly feelings I could at that minute rely. 
 
 Three days elapsed, and I had no tidings of Gontran. 
 
 About five o clock in the evening, Fritz, the valet de chambre, 
 whom Gontran had taken with him, arrived in one of those cabriolets 
 which are procured at posting establishments, and brought me a 
 lettter from my husband ; I was astonished at the information which 
 it contained. 
 
 Gontran was ill ; and was waiting for me at Chantilly, in a house 
 to which his messenger would conduct me. M. de Lancry desired 
 me upon receipt of his letter to send for post horses immediately, 
 and to set off with Blondeau and Fritz in order to rejoin him. 
 
 “ It is of the utmost importance to me,” added M. de Lancry, 
 “ that it should not yet be known at Paris, that you have come to 
 me, you will therefore desire your servants to reply to all visiters, 
 that you are gone to spend a few days at Madame Secherin’s. You 
 will write also to the same effect, to Mademoiselle de Maran, my 
 uncle M. de Versac, and the Princess Ksernika. I implore you to 
 do this Matilda, whatever repugnance you may feel in writing to 
 the latter person, the important point is that it should be clearly 
 understood in the world, that you are going to Ursula and not to 
 me. I will explain all this mystery to you. Fortunately it is one 
 that will not last long. You may place implicit confidence in Fritz, 
 my messenger, he will conduct you to Chantilly, where, oh my good 
 and beloved Matilda, I am waiting for you. Courage ! I hope there 
 are still bright days in store for us.” 
 
 I confess, my delight at the prospect of seeing Gontran again was 
 perhaps greater than the uneasiness which his indisposition caused 
 me. I gave the necessary directions for our immediate departure. 
 Although unwilling to question one of my own servants I asked 
 Fritz if M. de Lancry had been taken ill during his journey, or at 
 liis return. 
 
 “ I cannot inform Madame la Vicomtesse was his reply. “ On our 
 arrival from Paris, M. le Vicomte left me near Chantilly, in the house 
 where he is waiting for Madame, he went away by himself three days 
 ago, and returned unaccompanied, this morning. M. le Vicomte * 
 seemed fatigued and unwell, he ordered me to take a cabriolet at 
 the posting house, and to come for madame.” 
 
 A foolish hope glanced through my mind. I thought for an 
 instant that Gontran had deceived me in announcing that our little 
 house had been pulled down, that he was preparing a surprise for 
 me, and that it was that blessed retreat in which we were to escape 
 from the wicked calumnies of the world. I nourished such a pious 
 adoration for that period of my past life, that, with a scrupulousness 
 which was almost exaggerated, I would not profane — if I may use the 
 expression — my cherished memories of the past and my as cherished 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 2D3 
 
 hopes for the future, by asking a single question of Fritz upon the 
 subject. In compliance with Gontran’s directions, I wrote word to 
 Mademoiselle de Maran, M. de Versac, and Madame de Ksernika, 
 that I w:s going to spend a few days in the country with Ursula ; 
 and I gave orders at home that the same answer should be made to 
 any visiters who might come to see me. I was sorry that I was 
 unable to take Blondeau with me, but I did not even think of 
 mentioning my intended departure to her, for in spite of her indis- 
 position she would have insisted upon accompanying me. I went to see 
 her in her room. She scarcely recognized me, there was no alteration 
 in her features, and she did not seem to be suffering any pain, but 
 was only plunged into a complete stupor. 
 
 At six o’clock I left Paris. 
 
 The maid who accompanied me, with M. de Lancry’s valet de 
 chambre, was a melancholy sort of girl, and her countenance dis- 
 pleased me, though I knew not why. It was now the end of June, 
 the sky was sombre, the air heavy, and the heat suffocating, while a 
 storm threatened in the distance. In spite of the long daylight, at 
 half-past seven night had almost completely set in ; just at the time 
 when I was changing horses at Ecouen. Thunder began to be 
 heard some way off, and a flash of lightning was occasionally seen. 
 The atmosphere became still more oppressive. While we were 
 changing horses a trifling dispute arose between my servant and the 
 last postillions. I only mention this fact, apparently so unimportant 
 a one, because it produced serious consequences afterwards. Till 
 then the postillions had, I believe, received each four francs, as I had 
 given directions that they should use the utmost speed, but at this 
 stage, Fritz, I do not know why, wanted to limit the gratuity to 
 three. The postillion came to the window to complain ; and I 
 ordered Fritz to pay him what he asked, adding that I was, above 
 all things, desirous of proceeding with the utmost rapidity, as I was 
 in a great hurry to arrive. 
 
 The master of the posting house, who was present at this little 
 dispute, enjoined the postillions to use the utmost caution when 
 they arrived at the declivity of Luzarches, as the road was almost 
 entirely unpaved at that spot, in consequence of the repairs which 
 were then being made. There were lanterns moreover fixed up there 
 to warn travellers of the danger. 
 
 We left Ecouen. 
 
 The darkness increased, and large drops of rain began to fall. I 
 feared the thunder might alarm the horses, and that some unfore- 
 seen accident might delay my arrival at the place where I was to 
 meet Gontran. In other respects I contemplated with a melancholy 
 calmness, these signs which were the forerunners of the tempest. 
 Alas ! those great phenomena of nature, awful and terrible as they 
 are, are far less fearful than those evil passions so hidden and so 
 
294 
 
 THE ORPHAN, 
 
 cowardly, which are incessantly muttering around us ! There is so 
 much of majesty in that commotion of the elements, that the soul 
 becomes exalted above terror, and has no thought but one of re- 
 ligious admiration for the magnificence of the strife. These re- 
 flections gave me fresh strength, besides I was about to see M. de 
 Lancry once more, he told me he was but slightly indisposed, and I 
 confidently relied that repose and my attentions would ensure his 
 recovery. 
 
 I ended by persuading myself that he was waiting for me either 
 in our former habitation ; or in some new house, and that we 
 should live there for some time in solitude. I looked upon this 
 long wished for occurrence as the reward of my devotion to Gon- 
 tran, and I thanked God for having so well inspired me. I had so 
 much confidence in the power of my feelings, that I no longer 
 entertained any doubts of my husband’s happiness, given up as he 
 would henceforth be to the sole influence of my love. 
 
 Just before we came to that declivity of Luzarches, which had 
 been mentioned as dangerous, my carriage was stopped for a mo- 
 meent at the summit of a hill which we had just ascended, in order 
 that the drag might be put on. I heard, at first in the distance 
 and then drawing nearer by degrees, the sound of a horse’s gallop. 
 Mechanically I put my head to the window, and a few minutes 
 afterwards a horseman came up at full speed, and almost out of 
 breath, who called out to Fritz, 
 
 “ You are pursued, they are in such haste that they have not 
 changed horses at Ecouen — I have only a ten minutes start of 
 them — they are ascending the hill — I will hurry on to inform — ” 
 
 I could not hear the remainder of his sentence, for he spurred 
 on furiously. In an agony of fear, my first thought was that M. 
 Lugarto was referred to. 
 
 “ Who is pursuing us ? who is that man T I exclaimed. 
 
 Fritz, after a moment’s hesitation, replied, 
 
 “ It is a man to whom M. le Vicomte made me carry a letter, at 
 the same time that I was coming for madame. He is doubtlesss 
 acting in conformity with M. le Vicomte' s instructions, by hastening 
 to warn us, madame, that we are pursued.” 
 
 “ But, good God ! who is pursuing us ?” 
 
 “ It is impossible for me to inform madame,” replied Fritz un- 
 easily, and stooping down to listen. 
 
 Effectively, during one of those moments of profound silence 
 which sometimes occur during a lull in the violence of a tempest, 
 we heard — though still at some distance — the sound of a carriage, 
 which notwithstanding the steep acclivity, was approaching at a 
 rapid rate. 
 
 “ They are here — they are here !” exclaimed Fritz almost with 
 terror. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 295 
 
 I understood it all, doubtless Gontran fearing Lugarto might 
 discover his retreat, or become acquainted with my departure, had 
 ordered some confidential agent to watch his proceedings. The 
 man had seen Lugarto set off, and was gone to inform M. de Lan- 
 cry that his retreat was discovered, giving me a warning as he 
 passed. 
 
 “ Good God ! what shall I do h what shall I do ?” I exclaimed. 
 
 The carriage approached nearer and nearer ; arrived at the 
 summit of the hill, and having now only to descend the declivity 
 would soon come up with us. 
 
 “ Do not let Madame le Vicomtesse feel any alarm,” suddenly 
 said Fritz. “ I have an idea — Postillion, mind your horses, and go 
 on full speed without putting the drag on, you can stop when you 
 have passed that unpaved part of the road, where you see those 
 lanterns down there — ” 
 
 Fritz had scarcely finished speaking when the carriage set off 
 with frightful rapidity. It rolled no longer, but actually bounded 
 down the steep declivity. It needed marvellous skill in the 
 postillions to traverse the sound portion of the road, there being 
 merely a kind of narrow passage made between two enormous heaps 
 of stones, and only lighted by three lanterns fixed upon as many 
 stakes. 
 
 When we had passed this obstacle, the carriage stopped. I 
 looked through the window at the back, Fritz jumped from his 
 seat, ran to the lanterns and extinguished them. The postillions, who 
 had their backs turned to the part of the road which they had just 
 passed over, and which was concealed from them by the carriage, 
 were unable to perceive this manoeuvre of Fritz’s. 
 
 I understood his intention. The night was so dark that our 
 pursuers, who would be ignorant of the danger as they had not 
 changed horses at Ecouen, would in all probability be thrown with 
 fearful violence over the mass of stones. We had descended the 
 declivity with such speed that the other carriage was only just ap- 
 pearing at its summit when Fritz cried out — 
 
 “ On ! postillions — ten francs for you if you will gallop up the 
 hill !” 
 
 Notwithstanding this direction, the horses, which were out of 
 breath from the inordinate speed at which they had proceeded, 
 ascended but slowly the steep hill which succeeded the declivity. 
 In a state of inexpressible anguish, I continued to gaze through 
 the window at the back of the carriage. Fritz remained upon the 
 foot board to watch the result of his stratagem. 
 
 The night continued so dark that it was impossible to distinguish 
 the carriage which held our pursuers, and nothing was to be seen 
 but two bright specks (the lamps of the carriage) which approached 
 and descended the perpendicular declivity with fearful speed. 
 
THE OR.1’11 AN. 
 
 1*96 
 
 A flash of lightning enabled me to distinguish perfectly a carriage 
 with two white horses, which were rushing on with impetuous 
 rapidity. 
 
 The next instant everything was once more in darkness. 
 
 A terrible idea occurred to me, if those ill-fated wretches who 
 were thus rushing upon certain destruction should not be our pur- 
 suers ! I mechanically extended my hands and cried out “ Stop ! 
 stop !” 
 
 Another flash shewed me the carriage borne along with irresistible 
 impetuosity. It was now within twenty steps of the heap of stones 
 on which it must inevitably be dashed to pieces. Good God ! 
 what were my feelings when I fancied I recognized a sort of 
 peculiarly shaped hritzka , which belonged to M. de Mortagne 
 and in which he had arrived from Italy, at my aunt’s house, on 
 the day when my marriage contract was signed ! Gontran had 
 often discussed with me the convenient but strange construction 
 of that carriage. 
 
 As I beheld the two luminous specks upon which my eyes were 
 fixed, suddenly disappear, I uttered a piercing shriek and covered 
 my eyes with my hands as if I had assisted at the frightful 
 catastrophe which I dreaded. At this instant our horses, who 
 had arrived at the top of the hill which we had been mounting, 
 finding themselves once more upon level ground, set off with fresh 
 speed. It was in vain that I called to the postillions, the noise 
 of the wheels overpowered my voice, and they did not hear me — 
 I threw myself back in the carriage with despair. 
 
 By degrees, fearing to dwell upon the idea that M. de Mortagne 
 was perhaps the victim of a fearful accident, I attempted to per- 
 suade myself, and did at last persuade myself that I had been 
 mistaken. Besides there might be another carriage of the same 
 shape, or M. de Mortagne might have sold his, and M. Lugarto 
 might have purchased it ; by these means I calmed, or rather, 
 deadened my terror. I strove to persuade myself that M. Lu- 
 garto was our pursuer, and that a most providential punishment 
 had overtaken the man who had done us so much harm. At last I 
 was about to see Gontran. This hope alone comforted me. M. de' 
 Lancry informed by the messenger who had passed us, would clear 
 up my doubts upon the subject. After continuing upon the high 
 road for about another half hour, I perceived that we were quitting 
 the pavement, and that we were now taking a cross road. The 
 night was so dark that I could not see whether we had entered the 
 forest or not. After proceeding for some time we suddenly stopped. 
 The tempest still continued. 
 
 I beheld a gloomy looking house all the shutters of which were 
 closed. Fritz got down, knocked, and the door was opened. My 
 heart beat as if it would break, when I thought I was about to see 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 297 
 
 Gontran again. I hastily entered the house while my servants oc- 
 cupied themselves in unloading the carriage. An elderly woman, 
 who was a stranger to me, requested me to walk into a little par- 
 lour on the ground floor. 
 
 “ Where is M. de Lancry ?” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ M. le Vicomte has left this letter for madame — ” 
 
 “ Good God ! M. de Lancry is not here then V* 
 
 “ M. le Vicomte will not return before to-morrow night, as he 
 has doubtless told madame in this letter.” 
 
 Extremely uneasy at M. de Lancry ’s absence, I took the letter 
 which the woman offered me, and read as follows — 
 
 “ Do not torment yourself, my dear Matilda, I am this instant 
 setting off to take advantage of a most fortunate circumstance 
 which places it in my power to terminate everything , and to devote 
 myself hereafter to your happiness alone. Courage ! my tender 
 and generous Matilda, our evil days are passed. Wait for me, I 
 shall be back to-morrow evening at the latest, if you like the 
 house we will remain there till we are able to settle ourselves at 
 your chateau de Maran. Adieu ! consolation, hope of my ex- 
 istence, pardon me for the sorrows I have caused you and love me 
 a little.” 
 
 Although this fresh departure annoyed me sensibly, I resigned 
 myself as well as I could, consoling myself with the reflection that 
 on the next day I should see M. de Lancry once more. Besides 
 how delightful for me ! Gontran was about to realize my secret 
 hopes, he promised to live alone with me in this retreat. I had 
 recently witnessed such mysterious events, that I could not feel 
 surprised at this new and sudden absence. 
 
 “ Did not a man on horseback come here to-night with very 
 important intelligence for M. de Lancry ?” I enquired of the 
 woman. 
 
 “ No, madame, I have seen nobody.” 
 
 “ Call Fritz this instant,” I said, completely astonished. 
 
 “ M. le Vicomte instructed Fritz to take the carriage and horses 
 back to Chantilly, madame, for there is no coach-house or stables 
 here, he is already set off', and did not even enter the house.” 
 
 “ What ! did not a man on horseback come here from Paris 
 to-night ?” 
 
 “No, Madame.” 
 
 What could have become of the messenger ? what had he to tell 
 M. de Lancry ? I began to feel uneasy at finding myself in this 
 isolated house, among people with whom I was unacquainted. I 
 more particularly regretted that I had not Blondeau with me. Was 
 M. Lugarto my pursuer? If I admitted this hypothesis, I felt 
 scarcely any apprehensions, for his carriage must have been dashed 
 to pieces on the road, and he would be unable to continue his 
 
298 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 journey, but if I had deceived myself, if instead of him it were M. de 
 Mortagne. This was a fearful thought, and I would not suffer my- 
 self to dwell upon it. The woman who had received me, asked me 
 if she should bring up the supper. I had left Paris without dining, 
 I was dropping with fatigue, and I resolved to eat that I might re- 
 gain my strength. 
 
 The woman left the room. 
 
 The drawing-room was furnished with elegance, the draperies were 
 crimson, and it was lighted by several tapers placed in gilt chande- 
 liers. I recognised Gontran’s taste in certain details, I scarcely yet 
 dared to hope that I should inhabit this house, perhaps for a long 
 time, with M. de Lancry. Presently the woman who had received 
 me on my arrival, brought a little table luxuriously served, and told 
 me that M. de Lancry had ordered the supper himself, I was touched 
 by this attention of Gontran’s, and I dismissed the woman that I 
 might be alone, and think over at liberty, the events of the day. 
 After having taken a few spoonfuls of soup, the breast of a chicken, 
 and two or three glasses of water just coloured with a little Bordeaux, 
 for I was suffering much from thirst, (it will be seen presently, why 
 I dwell upon these trifling details), I pushed back the table, and 
 drew my arm chair up to the fire place, although there was no fire 
 in the grate. The tempest still growled in the distance, a violent 
 gale of wind had sprung up, and you might hear its long and 
 melancholy moanings. In a short time I gave myself up to the 
 fatigue which I felt morally as well as physically, my eyelids closed 
 in spite of myself, but determined not to yield to sleep so soon, I 
 hastily rose, took a few steps across the room, and by chance ap- 
 proached a door which seemed to communicate with an adjoining 
 apartment. 
 
 Whether it was the wind, or the effect of my imagination ; I 
 fancied I heard a deep and melancholy sigh behind that door. 
 
 I hastily drew back much alarmed, and I felt a vague presenti- 
 ment of impending evil. 
 
 Seizing a bell-rope which I perceived at one of the sides of the 
 fire place, I pulled it violently, no one however came. 
 
 Again I rang with still more violence — no one came. 
 
 I rang a third time, but with no better success. 
 
 Terrified at the death-like silence which pervaded the house, I 
 threw myself into an arm-chair, and hid my face in my hands. It 
 then seemed to me that an irresistible feeling of torpor, was, as it 
 were, nailing me to my seat, my limbs became heavy, and I thought 
 that an unconquerable drowsiness was stealing over me. Afraid of 
 falling asleep, and determined to find my maid, or the woman who 
 had waited upon me, I repressed my terror, and taking a candle from 
 the table, I resolutely advanced towards the door which opened into 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 299 
 
 the ante-chamber. My hand was upon the handle of the lock, when 
 I heard it move with a harsh and repeated sound. 
 
 The door was at that instant double locked on the outsile. 
 
 In the suddenness of my alarm I shook the door, it was impossible 
 to open it. 
 
 Stupified with terror, and beginning then to have a vague idea 
 of the most horrible machinations, I went to the window and opened 
 it, the shutters also were barred on the outside. 
 
 In despair I rushed to the door behind which I had fancied I 
 heard a sigh. 
 
 At that door appeared M. Lugarto. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 REVELATIONS. 
 
 M. Lugarto was extremely pale, and his countenance bore an ex- 
 pression of infernal malice ; such as I had never seen it assume 
 before. 
 
 “ The inhabitants of this house are creatures of mine. Every 
 door is barred, and no human power can extricate you from this 
 place, before to-morrow.” 
 
 Such were this man’s first words. 
 
 Completely stupified, I looked at him with a bewildered air, with- 
 out the power of replying a word. 
 
 Suddenly, rushing to one of the windows, I exclaimed, 
 
 “ Do not come near me ! do not come near me !” 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, sate down in an arm chair, and said 
 to me, 
 
 “ Let us have a little conversation together — I have a great deal 
 to tell you.” He drew a pocket book from his pocket and placed it 
 upon a table. “ Pray sit down,” he continued, “ it will be a long 
 story and you must be fatigued.” 
 
 “ God Almighty ! have mercy upon me !” I exclaimed, falling on 
 my knees upon an arm-chair, and I put up a most fervent prayer to 
 heaven. 
 
 M. Lugarto felt in his pocket book, took out some papers, and 
 shewing them to me — said, 
 
 “ There is something that will surprise you. But let us proceed 
 in due order.” 
 
 Encouraged by the pious invocation which I had just addressed to 
 God, I got up, and with a look of resolution at M. Lugarto, I said 
 to him. 
 
 “ There is a God in heaven, and I have friends on earth.” 
 
300 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN 
 
 “ Of course you have, and myself before all. But, if you are re- 
 lying also upon M. de Mortagne, you are wrong, his carriage was 
 dashed to pieces at the declivity of Luzarches, and he was left half- 
 killed upon the spot.” 
 
 “It was true then ? that carriage which was pursuing us — ” 
 
 “ "Was his — Oh ! Fritz is worth his weight in gold. I knew very 
 well what I was about when I ordered your husband to take him.” 
 
 Thunderstruck for an instant at this fatal intelligence, I soon re- 
 covered some hopes, thinking that M. Lugarto could not be 
 acquainted with M. de Mortagne’s fate. 
 
 “ You are lying, sir !” I exclaimed, “Even, taking for granted the 
 misfortune which you announce, still you cannot have received any 
 details respecting M. de Mortagne’s situation ; for Fritz never left 
 me. 
 
 “ Nor was it Fritz, but one of the two men whom I had enjoined 
 to follow your carriage at some distance, from the time when you 
 left Paris, that told me this good piece of news. Without having 
 been in the army like my good friend Lancry, I still know how use- 
 ful a rear-guard may prove to be. And just see how well the ar- 
 rangement answered ! One of the two men perceiving that M. de 
 Mortagne was endeavouring to overtake you, rode forward at full 
 speed to inform Fritz first, and then me — the other escort, kept a 
 little way off M. de Mortagne’s carriage to watch it ; and having 
 perceived the overturn of your saviour at the declivity of Luzarches, 
 and seen him taken out of his carriage half dead, arrived here — like 
 a faithful servant as he is — a quarter of an hour after you, having 
 left his horse at some distance off, in order not to rouse your suspicions. 
 In short as a proof that you have no more reason to hope for, than 
 I have to dread, the presence of M. de Mortagne, here 1 am, you 
 see, perfectly comfortable, and, as people say, making myself quite 
 at home.” 
 
 What M. Lugarto said was unfortunately so probable, that I was 
 compelled to banish all hope, and I sighed when I thought of the 
 fatality which had deprived me of the assistance, that Providence 
 was sending to me. 
 
 “ Oh ! lie’s a crafty dog that M. de Mortagne,” continued M. 
 Lugarto — “ he and that Rochegune, whom the devil confound, have 
 fastened themselves to my steps for the last two months, and acting 
 as they did in secret, have already defeated two or three of my pro- 
 jects which concerned yourself, my lovely enemy l They bribed 
 some of my servants whom I had fancied to be incorruptible. For- 
 tunately, Fritz already, some time ago, half killed that Rochegune 
 when he was dancing attendance at your garden gate, in order to 
 hear an account of your precious health, during your illness.” 
 
 “ It was M. de Rochegune then % Oh God ! an assassination !” 
 
 “ Pooh ! pooh ! what do you take me for ? Merely a bit of a quar- 
 
TIIE ORFHAN. 
 
 301 ' 
 
 rel and a knock on the head, that’s all. Rochegune took precious 
 good care to say nothing about the matter. That virtuous and 
 philanthropic young man knew, as well as I did, that if he had made 
 any complaints, he would have had to explain how, and for what 
 purpose, he came every night to play the sentinel at your garden 
 gate. That might have compromised you, so I was pretty sure he 
 would hold his tongue.” 
 
 “ As cowardly, as traitorous, and cruel,” I said clasping my hands 
 with horror, 
 
 “ Cowardly, no, nervous if you like. How can I help it ? I am 
 weak enough to be particularly fond of life. By-the-bye, you must 
 think me a confoundedly inexperienced lover, or a confoundedly 
 cold one. Here I have in my power an enchanting woman, the 
 most adorable woman without contradiction Paris ever saw, and I 
 am quietly telling her all my tricks, instead of talking to her about 
 my Hame. But do not be in a hurry, I will explain to you this con- 
 duct which perhaps you think is a little too respectful. You see 
 that clock don’t you ? It is half-past eleven — well ! before twelve 
 you will be in a profound and irresistible sleep — at twelve o’clock, 
 therefore, you will be in my power. Just now, at supper, you took 
 an infallible narcotic ; and you must even already have experienced 
 some little symptoms of drowsiness — now then, let’s talk till the hour 
 of my bliss arrives.” 
 
 I gave a terrible scream — for I remembered the kind of transitory 
 lethargy which I had just before attributed to sleepiness and 
 fatigue. 
 
 “ Have mercy upon me,” I exclaimed, falling on my knees. “ This 
 is horrible. What have I done to you ? good God ! mercy ! mercy !” 
 
 M. Lugarto burst into a loud laugh, and said to me, 
 
 “ Why, madame, what is the matter with you ? what do you 
 wish ? why do you reproach me ? Here I am, in my arm chair, 
 as quiet as a lamb, a good way off from you, and contemplating you 
 with the most profound respect. Really to see you looking so scared 
 and imploring, one would suppose I was playing the part of Tarquin. 
 Come, come, my beautiful Lucretia ; you are unjust. Do you know 
 that, if I had any conceit about me, I should be apt to think that 
 you are reproaching me for my reserve — in order to provoke my 
 audacity.” 
 
 I questioned, if I may use the expression, all my sensations at 
 that moment, with a terrible anxiety. I pressed my hands to my 
 forehead, it was burning : my head seemed heavy, my eye lids were 
 weighed down. At each of these fatal discoveries I shuddered with 
 terror, I tried to get up from my knees, but I felt them give way 
 under me. 
 
 “ But this is not sleep 1” I exclaimed in my despair. “ No — it is 
 an agony — a living agony. Oh it is too frightful ! Oh ! my God ! 
 
302 
 
 THE OltPHAN. 
 
 my God ! Is it an illusion 1 But — again — no — no. I feel my 
 strength deserting me — a cloud is spreading over my eyes. God of 
 Heaven ! God of vengeance ! wilt thou not come to my assistance V 
 
 Alas ! whether my imagination, impressed by M. Lugarto’s re- 
 velation, had hastened the effects of the narcotic which I had taken, 
 or whether it were merely the natural operation of the drug, I know 
 not, but I began to experience a kind of languor and invincible 
 drowsiness. In spite of myself I fell down in a sitting posture, upon 
 an arm chair near the table on which that fatal supper had been 
 served. 
 
 I was agitated with a convulsive trembling, I could scarcely 
 speak, and in my terror I used, but vainly, the most imploring 
 gestures to that monster. 
 
 “ I was sure enough of the effect that draught of mine would 
 have,” he continued, “ for I have tried it several times already. 
 That’s right, you are sitting down, presently you will become 
 wholly incapable of moving — but you will be able to hear me for 
 some time yet — listen to me then, it will distract your attention.” 
 
 I could hear him indeed but already, vaguely, I fancied I was 
 the sport of some monstrous night-mare, my eyes were fixed. 
 That man seemed to me at that instant to be almost endowed with 
 some supernatural power. 
 
 He was silent for a moment, whilst he was looking for some 
 papers. 
 
 The wind moaned down the chimney in redoubled gusts. I felt 
 an increasing torpor subjugate, little by little, all my faculties, 
 twice I attempted to get up, and to call for assistance, but my 
 strength and my voice both failed me. 
 
 “ I tell you it is no use,” said Lugarto, shrugging his shoulders, 
 u but listen to me — you shall know all about your dearly beloved 
 Gontran, and the secret of my aversion towards him. Two years 
 ago, at Paris, I had discovered, in the most humble situation, a 
 pearl of grace, a treasure of beauty, a noble heart, an enchanting 
 mind, in a word, a most adorable young girl, to whom I had not 
 revealed what I really was. That young girl loved me, but she 
 would not transgress her duty — irritated by opposition, I became so • 
 desperately enamoured of her, I thought her so beautiful, so good, 
 so ingenuous, that I should have been mad enough to marry her, 
 for hers was one of those virtues which, notwithstanding their se- 
 verity, attract instead of repulsing. Hell threw in my way Gontran 
 de Lancry, I became intimate with him, I confided to him my 
 love, my projects ; and I introduced him to that young girl as my 
 dearest friend. A month after that introduction he had supplanted 
 me with her, had revealed my name, calumniated my intentions, 
 and seduced that poor girl who had been hitherto so pure. The 
 unhappy creature, abandoned soon after by Lancry, committed 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 303 
 
 suicide. That’s what your husband did to me — he seared, he sul- 
 lied, he destroyed the only real love which, perhaps, I had ever 
 experienced in my life ! At one blow, and for ever he ulcerated 
 my heart and my pride, by robbing me so contemptuously of a 
 conquest that I would have purchased with my hand — and that is 
 what I will never forgive him. Ah 1 you do not know what that 
 man has made me suffer !” 
 
 M. Lugarto seemed to lay aside his freezing irony as he pro- 
 nounced these last words in an accent of profound emotion. 
 
 “ You have at least then known one generous, one pure senti- 
 ment !” I exclaimed. “ In the name of that sentiment, of that 
 cruel but sacred memory have mercy upon me — I feel my strength 
 is forsaking me.” 
 
 M. Lugarto replied with a loud laugh. 
 
 “ How childish you are ! It is natural enough — if I gave you 
 a narcotic, it was on purpose that it should operate. Your drowsi- 
 ness will go on increasing in this way, till you fall into a profound 
 sleep. To return to Lancry : if I have forgotten that young 
 girl, there still remains in my heart the madness of having been 
 sacrificed to Gontran, and the thirst for revenge. Had I been 
 brave enough to fight with Lancry, I think I should have killed 
 him, so intense was my hatred of that man, but, as I told you 
 before, I am nervous and I waited. And then revenge is very good 
 eaten cold, as the vulgar say — Besides I know not what mysterious 
 voice warned me, that sooner or later Gontran could not escape 
 me. Last year I was in London, he came there, bringing with 
 him the last remains of his fortune : he was desirous of appearing 
 in a sort of factitious splendour that he might entrap and marry 
 some rich heiress. I went to him with every appearance of frank- 
 ness, I began by laughing at the excellent trick which he had 
 played me in depriving me of that young girl ; he laughed at it 
 also, and was delighted to find that I took the thing so well ; we 
 resumed our former intimacy. This marriage did not make much 
 progress, I had spread the report of his ruin, and of his mercenary 
 designs, adding that he ridiculed beforehand the heiresses whom 
 he expected to take in his matrimonial toils. The aristocratic pride 
 of the young Misses of the three kingdoms revolted at the 
 secret pretensions of this insolent Frenchman, which I had be- 
 trayed. In short, in spite of his fine name, his wit, and his ex- 
 traordinary good looks, advantages of his which I abhorred, the 
 excellent Lancry could not even manage to marry some obscure 
 city heiress. But I see you are getting more and more sleepy,” 
 added M. Lugarto, “ this drowsiness, however, has not yet reached 
 your mental faculties, it is at present merely a physical torpor. I 
 will continue, therefore, for I see by the expression of your counten- 
 ance that you perfectly understand what I am saying. Lancry 
 
304 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 then had exhausted his last resources, in this chase of his after 
 heiresses. His uncle the Duke de Versac refused to give him 
 another farthing, and your beloved Gontran was very nearly on 
 his last legs, when the devil inspired him. He borrowed money of 
 me for the first time, and from that day he was in my power. I 
 lent him a thousand louis so readily, and he knew my fortune to 
 be so enormous, that he accepted without scruple, and applied 
 to me again. I met his wishes half way, and lent him another 
 and a more considerable sum. This quite turned his head and he 
 looked upon me in the light of a milch cow. I charitably advised 
 him for his own interest to make a more magnificent display than 
 ever. The world had believed him to be a ruined man, so he 
 must come out in renewed splendour and announce that he had 
 just inherited a fresh fortune, then he must infallibly hook some 
 wealthy match. As for the expenditure, I was there, my income 
 was three or four millions, and he was to repay me when he was 
 once married to a fortune. It was a kind of speculation for which 
 I would advance him the funds, and I would not ask for a re-im- 
 bursement till the profits had been realized. 
 
 “ This seems foolish enough on my part, doesn’t it ? for after all 
 Lancry’s matrimonial projects might fail, and it would have been 
 all up with my money, although afterwards he gave me bonds which 
 I have got there. But to ensure the success of a certain project 
 which I had planned with tolerable adroitness, it was requisite to 
 inspire him with a blind confidence in my generosity and my 
 friendship — you will see that I made a good use of my money. 
 Every time I lent him any considerable sum, I gave him a simple 
 draft upon my banker signed by me : pray pay attention to 
 this. One day I suddenly left London without informing Lancry, 
 and without telling him where I was going. I knew that he was 
 then without money. I sent him a Jew, who was a remarkably 
 sharp fellow, and who offered to lend him thirty thousand livres 
 upon his simple signature. Lancry, who depended upon me to 
 re-imburse the sum, signed the paper. I was at Brighton, at which 
 place, however, I was informed of all his movements. My project 
 was now ripe. Gold is an enchanter’s wand. Some time after 
 he had borrowed the money, I seriously proposed to Lancry a cer- 
 tain heiress who had an income of fifty thousand ecus. I knew the 
 parents of the young girl, and they reposed the utmost confidence 
 in me. I had pledged myself, (the security was to be on my own 
 fortune,) that Lancry should bring more than two millions into the 
 marriage settlements, only I engaged the parents not to enter into 
 money matters till my return. Lancry was accustomed to give 
 himself out invariably, with the utmost effrontery, as possessing 
 an income of a million a year, he was introduced to the young 
 lady, favourably received, and a day was appointed for the pecuniary 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 305 
 
 arrangements. When thing,s had got as far as this, I wrote to 
 Lancry from Brighton, in his reply he asked me for two thousand 
 louis to pay the Jew, for the note of hand had not long to run, and 
 there was a risk of his being arrested, as the creditor would shew 
 him no mercy. Now it would have been an atrocious thing for 
 Lancry to be thrown into prison at the very moment when he was 
 about to marry a woman with fifty thousand ecus a year, and thus 
 to see all his brilliant hopes dashed to the ground. The day had 
 now arrived next before that on which the note of hand would 
 fall due, I had calculated everything to a nicety ; Lancry s anxiety 
 was dreadful, when, oh ! miracle of heaven ! blessed manna of the 
 sky ! I sent Gontran, by the post, but without any letter of address, 
 remark this web, a draft for two thousand louis payable at sight, 
 on my banker, and consisting merely of these words, as usual — 
 
 * Good for two thousand pounds sterling — Brighton — Comte de 
 Lugarto .’ I merely wrote a line to^ ! Gontran to fell him that I 
 was about to leave Brighton, and that I would let him know after- 
 wards where I was. I had arranged so that this draft should 
 arrive by the post in the evening. Lancry had a valet de chambre 
 whom I had recommended to him. Lancry put the draft in a 
 drawer, and went out without taking the key — prudence being by 
 no means the forte of that dear husband of yours — the valet took 
 the draft according to my directions, and sent it back to me. 
 Next day Lancry looked for his draft — it was not to be found — • 
 he questioned the valet — but obtained no tidings of it. The valet 
 played his part to perfection, and declared he did not know what 
 his master meant. Then came the Jew, who insisted upon having 
 his money, and threatened to tell the young lady’s family, and so 
 break off the marriage. Lancry in despair beheld himself on the 
 point of losing his heiress for the want of that cursed draft, he 
 burst out into a tempest of fury, and in his rage he told his valet, 
 in whom, by the way, he had implicit confidence, of the atrocious 
 dilemma in which he was placed. My rascal then, following my 
 instructions to the letter, after a good deal of sham hesitation made 
 the following suggestion to his master. “ M. le comte de Lugarto , 
 had sent to M. le Vicomte a draft for two thousand louis, it was there- 
 fore his intention to lend him two thousand louis, but M. le Vicomte 
 has somehow mislaid the draft. What harm would there be in 
 M. le Vicomte s writing another draft V i What ! wretch, a 
 forgery V ‘ But since M. de Lugarto sent a draft to M. le Vicomte , 
 which draft has been lost, it comes to the same tiling. What 
 injury would it do any one to write another ? Your dear Gontran, 
 after a few conscientious scruples, yielded to this plausible argument 
 for forgery, and an hour afterwards he presented a draft forged with 
 my name, at my banker’s. Oh, oil ! this awakens you a little does 
 
 x 
 
306 
 
 TilE ORPHAN. 
 
 it ? added M. Lugarto, seeing that I was lifting myself with an effort 
 almost of despair. 
 
 “ You lie — you lie — ” I exclaimed in a feeble voice. “ Gontran 
 is incapable of such infamy.” Almost exhausted by this movement I 
 fell back in my arm chair. 
 
 From that moment I experienced a kind of strange hallucination ; 
 while M. Lugarto spoke I fancied I saw his narrative acted before 
 my eyes, the personages of his tale appeared in and disappeared 
 from my sight as in a dream, and with the rapidity of thought. 
 
 “ To convince you that I tell no lie in accusing de Lancry of being 
 a forger,” resumed M. Lugarto, shewing me a paper, “ here is the 
 forged document itself. I continue my narration. It will not last 
 longer then the ten minutes more during which you will preserve 
 your consciousness. Some days before, my banker had been informed 
 by me, in confidence, and under the seal of the most profound 
 secrecy, that de Lancry, abusing my friendship, might present two 
 drafts forged with my name, but, out of consideration for the name 
 the wretch bore, (this was what I said) I entreated my said banker 
 to pay without making any noise ; but only to preserve the draft, 
 and to establish without doubt M. de Lancry ’s crime, reserving to 
 myself the power of prosecuting him afterwards if no amendment 
 manifested itself in the conduct of my unworthy friend. This 
 was done, and witnesses, whose authority was unimpeachable, 
 but whose discretion was sound, saw Lancry present the draft 
 and pocket the money. Those witnesses and my banker signed 
 the statement which I have here and in which I made all my 
 reservations for the future. You see I have but a word to say 
 to get your husband condemned for forgery, for it would be easy 
 to obtain his delivery into the hands of the English authorities.” 
 
 I hid my head in my hands with horror. 
 
 “ This will explain to you the secret of my domination over 
 de Lancry, and over many other people. I have a kind of police of my 
 own, which I put upon the scent of those persons upon whom I 
 have formed any designs, and the devil’s in it if I do not discover 
 some delicate peccadillo, or some sordid action which delivers them 
 bound hand in foot into my power. You have seen a specimen of 
 my performances, in my influence over the Princess de Ksernika, 
 and the Duchess de Rieheville. To return to Gontran, although the 
 Jew was paid his thirty thousand francs, the marriage to the rich 
 heiress did not take place. I withdrew the security I had given 
 without any explanation. Lancry, summoned to prove his possession 
 of the fortune, which he professed to enjoy, of course could not 
 prove anything, the family naturally turned their backs upon him, 
 and he found himself as poor as Job, with no property except more 
 than some two hundred thousand francs which he owed to me. It cost 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 307 
 
 me a good deal, but as Satan would have said, his soul was now my 
 property. When de Lancry saw himself thus in my power, he made a 
 mighty fuss at first, but what could he do ? resign himself for fear 
 of the felon’s brand. It was then that he received a letter from his 
 uncle, proposing a marriage with you. I was delighted at this, my 
 revenge would become a double one, and I should have the power of 
 disposing of two existences instead of one. To ensure the success of 
 this fine project which had been set on foot by Mademoiselle de 
 Maran, and M. de Yersac, I lent de Lancry a hundred thousand francs 
 secured to me upon your dowry, in order that he might provide for 
 any unforseen expenses, and not be exposed to lose such an admirable 
 chance. The marriage took place. I was ill in London, or I should 
 have come to the wedding as bride’s man. When I had recovered 
 my health I wrote to Lancry who was enjoying his honey-moon at 
 Chantilly. I ordered him to come to Paris immediately. Now 
 what I do take into my head, I will accomplish. I gave your 
 husband notice that I should pay my court to you, and he resigned 
 himself though he made a wry face at it. However, he relied upon 
 your virtue, and he was right — and so you have compelled me to 
 have recourse to strong measures, as people say. You know all the 
 rest — up to the scene at Tortoni’s the other day. He was carried 
 away by his temper, and being exasperated at Madame 8 contemptu- 
 ous reception he shewed off with that insolent bravado at Tortoni’s. 
 
 At two o’clock in the morning he was at my house, at my knees, 
 crying his eyes out, and imploring me to have mercy upon him and 
 upon you. He talked of nothing else but the galleys — I allowed 
 myself to be touched once more, on these conditions : 1st. A duel 
 was inevitable, and I was too nervous to think of a serious one. It 
 was agreed then that we should be supposed to have fought with 
 only soldiers for our seconds, I should also be supposed to have re- 
 ceived a sword wound, but not a very dangerous one. I made it my 
 business to confirm this report, which I accordingly did, and I am 
 now looked upon as a valiant hero. 2ndly. Lancry was to set off 
 immediately for London, where he is at this minute. Before his 
 departure I compelled him to write at my dictation the first letter 
 which you received at Paris, and which decided you to come here. 
 The other letters, you must understand are my own, for your husband 
 is not the only one who knows how to imitate handwriting, and to 
 dabble in forgery. 
 
 I believe I have forgotten nothing — no. Now, that you still have 
 a little consciousness remaining, look at the consequences of your 
 situation well in the face j for the last two months the world has 
 been persuaded that you and I are upon the best possible terms 
 together — if any doubt of this existed, let people merely judge by 
 the facts. You came here voluntarily, you wished to conceal this 
 journey from your aunt, from M. de Yersac, from Madame de 
 
308 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Ksernika, since you wrote them word that you were going to see 
 Madame S6cherin, in the country ; it is believed that your husband 
 has wounded me in a duel, and it will naturally be concluded that as 
 he was gone, you hurried here to console me in my sufferings ; how 
 will you deny it 1 where will be your proofs 1 My false letters, you 
 will say, but presently when you are completely asleep I shall take 
 those letters from you and burn them. 
 
 Will you invoke the testimony of your servants ? In the first place 
 they are creatures of my own, and then, they will say, what is true, 
 that they acted by your instructions, for you alone ordered the 
 departure. This is not all, to make it still more horrible — one of 
 your relations, a respectable man, having no doubt of your infamous 
 conduct, set off in your pursuit to prevent your ruin. Your passion 
 blinded you to such a degree, that in concert with your lacquey 
 you make this virtuous pursuer fall into an abominable trap, where 
 perhaps he has lost his life. Well, what do you say to this ? I defy 
 the most clever advocate to contradict all this, to prevent you from 
 being crushed by appearances, and by this last and most transcendent 
 scandal, for I have arranged matters so that it will be well known 
 that you have not been to Madame Secherin’s at all, and that you 
 came here to make me your tender and melancholy adieus. To- 
 morrow morning (your sleep will last at least eight or ten hours), 
 I shall set off for Italy, I shall allow you to awake at your leisure, 
 and to write to Gontran at the Post-office, in London, to come back 
 and console you if it amuses him. I shall, however, take with me 
 this precious forgery — this infernal string at the end of which I 
 shall always hold Gontran’s soul and yours. As to the hundred 
 thousand ecus or thereabouts which your husband owes me — and 
 of which I have the ackowledgments here — you will find them to- 
 morrow morning, after my departure, torn in pieces at your feet, 
 for I am as generous as gallant.” 
 
 This last outrage revived the little strength and courage which I 
 had still remaining. 
 
 M. Lugarto got up, looked at the clock, and said to me. “ In ten 
 minutes you will be mine.” 
 
 As I made a despairing effort to lift myself from the arm chair in 
 which I was falling into a lethargy, my eyes fell upon a knife. 
 
 I can now scarcely remember the violent thoughts which agitated 
 me at that moment ; whether I wished to escape from dishonour by 
 death, or whether I believed that pain and perhaps the loss of 
 blood would snatch me from the frightful state in which I was 
 plunged, I know not, but seizing the knife, I collected all my 
 energy to stab myself with it in the breast ; the blade however 
 slipped, and inflicted a slight wound on my shoulder. This move- 
 ment was so rapid that M. Lugarto did not perceive it. 
 
 A well known voice exclaimed with terror — “ Stop, Matilda !” 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 309 
 
 I raised myself upright by an almost convulsive movement, and 
 made a step or two forward, extending my arms towards M. de 
 Mortagne, for it was he. 
 
 He rushed towards me from an adjoining apartment. 
 
 M. de Rochegune, who accompanied him, seized M. Lugarto by the 
 collar, with one hand, and double locked the door by which my two 
 preservers had entered. 
 
 o — — - 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE PUNISHMENT. 
 
 I felt such a revulsion of feeling at the sight of M. de Mortagne 
 and M. de Rochegune, that I perfectly recovered my consciousness. 
 Perhaps, too the slight wound which I had inflicted upon myself, 
 had the salutary effect which a bleeding would have produced, for 
 I felt nearly restored to my usual and natural state. While M. de 
 Mortagne was dressing the wound, M. de Rochegune took possession 
 of M. Lugarto’s papers, who had become livid with terror. I then 
 for the first time perceived that M. de Mortagne's face was cut and 
 bruised in several places, and that his clothes, like M. de Rochegune’s, 
 were covered with mud. In my first emotion I had not reflected 
 upon the providential nature of this assistance. When I had groAvn 
 calmer I thanked God for my preservation. I was a silent witness 
 of the scene that followed, but it is fixed in ineffacable characters upon 
 my memory. While that scene lasted, though M. de Rochegune 
 was more a spectator of, than an actor in it ; his swarthy and con- 
 tracted features had perhaps a more menacing, a more terrible ex- 
 pression, than M. de Mortagne’s fury. Whenever M. de Rochegune 
 fixed his eyes upon M. Lugarto, they seemed on fire, and I observed 
 several times by the nervous twitching of his hands, it was only by 
 means of violent efforts, that he maintained an apparent calmness. 
 Whenever his grey and piercing eyes met M. Lugarto’s the latter 
 seemed almost a prey to some painful fascination. After having 
 attended to me, and placed me in an arm chair, M. de Mortagne said 
 to me. 
 
 “ You shall now, my poor girl, assist at the judgment and execu- 
 tion of this monster,” and he turned towards M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ But sir, what do you intend to do h you will not abuse your 
 force,” exclaimed the latter, stretching out his hands imploringly. 
 
 “ Down on your knees, first of all, down on your knees,” said M. de 
 Mortagne to him in a terrible voice, and with his powerful hand he 
 took M. Lugarto by the collar, and forced him rudely down upon 
 his knees on the floor. 
 
THE OllPHAN. 
 
 310 
 
 “ But this is down right murder — an abuse of — ” 
 
 “ Hold your tongue !” exclaimed M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ But—” 
 
 “ Another word, and I will gag you.” 
 
 M. Lugarto, completely overcome, let his head fall upon his 
 breast. 
 
 “ Now listen to me,” said M. de Mortagne. “ You shall write 
 to M. de Lancry that you send him back the forged draft which 
 might be his destruction. My purposes require that he should 
 believe you to be acting voluntarily in restoring this paper to him, 
 and that no one has been in your horrible confidence. Do you 
 hear ?” 
 
 M. Lugarto’s features which had changed for a moment, resumed 
 by degrees their expression of audacity. Still kneeling, he cast an 
 oblique glance at M. de Mortagne and replied to him, 
 
 “ You take me for a child, sir, you may wrest those papers from 
 me by force, but I defy you to force me to write what you 
 choose — ” 
 
 “ You will not write 1 ?” 
 
 “ No.” 
 
 “ You will not ?” 
 
 “ Once more I tell you I will not.” 
 
 M. de Mortagne was silent for a moment, looked round him, and 
 then suddenly said, 
 
 “ Rochegune, give me the cord of that window curtain — is it 
 strong ?” 
 
 “ Perfectly strong,” replied M. de Rochegune, taking a tolerably 
 long silken cord from one of the curtains. 
 
 “ What are you going to do ?” exclaimed M. Lugarto, half 
 rising as he spoke. 
 
 M. de Mortagne forced him back upon his knees. 
 
 . “ I am going to tie this cord round your forehead, and then by 
 means of a tourniquit (the handle of this knife will be just the 
 thing), I shall keep tightening it more and more till you yield. It 
 is an excellent kind of torture which I have seen practised in India, 
 with marvellous effect. The most obstinate resolutions are soon 
 brought to reason by this proceeding.” 
 
 “ You will not do that !” exclaimed M. Lugarto. “ You will 
 not do that ! Justice— the law — ” 
 
 “ I will take upon myself to settle with justice and the law, the 
 important point is that you should write,” said M. de Mortagne 
 with fearful coolness, and making a running knot in the cord. 
 
 “ But I will not let myself be tortured — but — ” 
 
 “ Look at me, — look at M. de Rochegune — then look at your 
 own feeble person, and judge if you can resist us.” 
 
 “ But—” 
 
TPl e Pun i slim ent 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 311 
 
 (t Oh ! let’s haye no more of this — Rochegune, take hold of his 
 hands.” 
 
 M. Lugarto’s countenance became hideous with rage and terror. 
 I covered my eyes with my handkerchief, a brief struggle took 
 place, after which I heard a piercing shriek, and then these words 
 in a trembling voice.” 
 
 “ Mercy ! mercy ! I will write — ” 
 
 “ Write then,” said M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ You are abusing your power — you are two against one,” mur- 
 mured M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ Will you write or not T 
 
 M. Lugarto resigned himself and wrote the following lines, 
 dictated by M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ I have carried on too long the foolish joke you know of, my 
 dear Lancry, I return you the paper in question, and let the whole 
 business be henceforth a secret between you and me, for I am 
 heartily ashamed of all this. I am about to set off for Italy. 
 Adieu, yours ever.” 
 
 M. Lugarto signed his name after he had written. 
 
 “ I hope this is all,” he added, “ I yield to violence. But 
 patience — patience — ” 
 
 “ Hold your tongue,” said M. de Mortagne. “ How much does 
 M. de Lancry owe you T 
 
 “ The securities given by M. de Lancry are in this pocket book,” 
 said M. Lugarto, “ they amount to three hundred and twenty 
 thousand francs.” 
 
 M. de Mortagne wrote a few lines upon a piece of paper and 
 gave them to M. Lugarto, saying to him — “ Here is a draft for 
 the amount upon my banker, payable at sight. You will direct 
 your agent to present it.” 
 
 He then tore up Gontran’s bills. 
 
 “ But this is scandalous — but this is a subtraction of documents— 
 but—” 
 
 " And that unfortunate forgery of Gontran’s ?” said M. de Mor- 
 tagne, without replying to him. 
 
 “ Here it is,” said M. de Rochegune. 
 
 M. de Mortagne put it with the letter which M. Lugarto had just 
 written to M. de Lancry, and placed them both in his pocket 
 book. 
 
 When he thus saw himself violently deprived of the means by 
 which he could have continued to torture his victim, M. Lugarto 
 uttered a cry of almost savage fury. 
 
 “ It is infamous ! it is compulsion — assassination — violence !” 
 
 “You are determined then to make me gag you V* exclaimed M. 
 de Mortagne. “ I forbid you to speak when I am not asking you 
 a question. Now write again — ” 
 
312 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Blit—” 
 
 “ Rochegune, give me the cord.” 
 
 M. Lugarto cast a glance towards heaven and obeyed. 
 
 “ M. de Mortagne dictated what follows, to M. Lugarto. 
 
 “ I declare that I wrote some false letters to Madame la Vi- 
 comtesse de Lancry. and counterfeited the hand writing of her 
 husband. In these letters M. de Lancry requested his wife to 
 come instantly to him at a house situated near Chantilly, Madame 
 de Lancry falling into this infamous snare, set out immediately 
 from Paris : on her arrival here she found another pretended letter 
 from M. de Lancry, which had similarly been forged by me, re- 
 questing his wife to feel no uneasiness, but to wait for him here, 
 and announcing that he should return next day. Madame de 
 Lancry, worn out with fatigue, accepted the supper which I had 
 caused to be prepared for her — I had put a narcotic drug into 
 everything that was served upon her table. When the poison be- 
 gan to operate, I presented myself before Madame de Lancry, and 
 had the barbarity to tell her that she had taken a narcotic, and 
 to point out to her every minute the increasing effect of the opiate, 
 declaring to Madame de Lancry that at midnight she would be 
 completely asleep and then entirely in my power. At this hor- 
 rible threat, Madame de Lancry preferring death to dishonor, and 
 collecting all the strength and consciousness which she still pos- 
 sessed, seized a knife and wounded herself with it. M. de Mor- 
 tagne and M. de Rochegune, who had contrived to introduce 
 themselves into the house and who had been concealed witnesses 
 of all this scene, entered the apartment at that moment, and as I 
 am as cowardly as cruel ! — ■” 
 
 “ I will not write that !” exclaimed M. Lugarto, throwing down 
 the pen. 
 
 M. de Mortagne gave M. Lugarto a violent blow on the face 
 with the back of his hand. The latter attempted to get up. 
 
 M. de Mortagne kept him down on his chair and said to him, 
 
 “ I will prove to yourself — what, by the way, you are perfectly 
 well aware of — that you are a miserable coward. I have struck 
 you, and I therefore owe you satisfaction. Here are two loaded 
 pistols, it is a beautiful moonlight night, and Rochegune will be 
 our witness — Come ” 
 
 And seizing M. Lugarto by the collar he took a step towards 
 the door, while M. de Rochegune took up the pistols, which on his 
 entrance he had placed upon the table. 
 
 M. Lugarto foamed at the mouth with rage, and appeared to be 
 suffering under a violent struggle. 
 
 “ Come along,” said M. de Mortagne, attempting to drag him 
 away, “ come along, I have an idea that I shall kill you — for God 
 is just — come along, do you hear ?” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 313 
 
 M. Lugarto got up, and took one step, but fear prevailed over 
 bis desire to revenge himself for the insult which he had received, 
 he fell back overcome upon his chair, saying to M. de Mortagne in 
 a broken voice. 
 
 “ You are a consummate duellist — you want to assassinate me 
 —I—” 
 
 “ Write then this instant — that you are a coward, or I will 
 break every bone in your skin 1” exclaimed M. de Mortagne in a 
 terrible voice. 
 
 M. Lugarto bent his head, took up the pen, and continued to 
 write. 
 
 “ As I am as cowardly as cruel — ■” 
 
 “ Begin a parenthesis,” added M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ (And so cowardly that after having received just now a blow in 
 the face from M. de Mortagne — ■” 
 
 “ Will you write or not T 
 
 M. Lugarto again hesitated, but at last made up his mind. 
 
 “ That after having received a blow in the face from M. de Mor- 
 tagne, I had not courage enough to accept the duel which he 
 offered me.)” 
 
 “ Close the parenthesis.” 
 
 " I have declared and confessed the infamies which I have just 
 written, trembling with fear all the time. I declare also that I 
 made M. de Rochegune the victim of a murderous stratagem, of 
 which Fritz Muller, a man in my pay, was the instrument, as will 
 appear from the legal proceedings about to be taken by M. de 
 Rochegune — ” 
 
 “ But,” said M. Lugarto, interrupting himself again, u since I 
 consent to everything, spare — •” 
 
 “ Will you hold your tongue or not 1 Write.” 
 
 “ Drawn up, signed, and declared true under the influence of 
 that terror which cowards like me always feel in the presence of 
 men of honour and courage, 
 
 Lugarto.” 
 
 After he had signed his name, M. Lugarto threw down his pen 
 and hid his face in his hands. 
 
 “ Now listen,” continued M. de Mortagne, u to-morrow morning 
 you will set off for Italy, and I forbid you, do you hear what I 
 say ? I forbid you to set foot in France again unless I authorize 
 you to do so — I banish you.” 
 
 " This is madness !” exclaimed M. Lugarto. “ After all I defy 
 your menaces, the law will protect me, and I shall remain in France 
 if I choose.” 
 
 “ Listen to me — ” exclaimed M. de Mortagne, raising himself to 
 the full height of his lofty and robust figure ; while he placed his 
 
314 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 hand upon M. Lugarto’s shoulder, who was almost compelled to stoop 
 under that powerful grasp. 
 
 “ Listen to me, I say. For four months you have been the evil 
 genius of the most adorable woman that exists upon earth. You 
 have done every thing in the world to destroy her reputation, and to 
 degrade her husband ; you have employed the most execrable perfidy 
 for the purpose of giving plausibility to your infamous calumnies. 
 You have attempted to assassinate M. de Rochegune : you have 
 committed forgery in order to allure madame de Lancry hither. You 
 and your accomplices have been also a second time murderers in 
 intention, by the horrible stratagem through which my life was 
 endangered : you have been a poisoner by making that unhappy 
 woman take a beverage intended to enable you to commit another 
 crime in addition to so many villanies. This is what you have done 
 — do you hear ? do you hear T 
 
 The look, the voice, the accent of M. de Mortagne were so 
 menacing that M. Lugarto, in spite of his audacity, did not dare 
 to reply a word. 
 
 M. de Mortagne added with still increasing excitement, and di- 
 recting M. Lugarto’s attention to me. 
 
 “ You do not know then that I promised her mother, upon her 
 death-bed, to watch over Matilda as if she were my own child. 
 You do not know then how dangerous it is to attack those whom 
 I love 1 You do not know then that had it not been for the 
 interest I had in discovering the motive of the fatal influence which 
 you exercised over M. de Lancry, I would have kicked you out of 
 France long ere this 1 for you must be well aware that a man like 
 myself who is determined to hunt down a scoundrel like you, suc- 
 ceeds at last in delivering society of such a pest, and that no fear 
 of the laws will check him ! And besides,” exclaimed M. de Mor- 
 tagne, losing all self-control, “ are you not beyond the pale of the 
 law ? I am only too good not to kill you here like a dog ! Have 
 I not the right to do it ?” 
 
 “ The right ?” exclaimed M. Lugarto terrified at M. de Mor- 
 tagne’s violence. 
 
 “ Yes the right — yes — I have a right to kill you — here — this 
 instant. Matilda is related to me, you allure her to this place by 
 means of forged letters — you poison her, I possess the proof of it — 
 you are about to commit an execrable crime, when I, her friend, 
 her relation, arrive — I surprise you — I take this pistol, I put it to 
 your head,” and M. de Mortagne, while he spoke, held a pistol to 
 M. Lugarto’s forehead, “ and I blow your brains out. Well then ! 
 and Avhcn I have done it, who will blame me ? what court of justice 
 will dare to condemn me ? Have you not been caught in the very 
 act ? does not your life belong to me, eh, scoundrel V 
 
 Terrified at M. de Mortagne’s fury, who, becoming more and 
 
TIIE ORPHAN, 
 
 315 
 
 more excited, had lost all self-possession, and still held the cocked 
 pistol to M. Lugarto’s forehead, the latter clasped his hands with 
 horror, his countenance became fearfully convulsed, and he had only 
 the strength to say — 
 
 “ Mercy — mercy — good God ! take care ! — the pistol is loaded.” 
 
 And he let his two arms fall down his sides as if he had lost all 
 sensation. 
 
 M. de Rochegune himself, frightened at M. de Mortagne’s ex- 
 asperation, said to him. 
 
 “ Have compassion upon the wretch.” 
 
 “ Did he — he — have pity upon that poor girl T thundered M. de 
 Mortagne. 
 
 “ Mercy — my God ! I will leave France whenever you choose — 
 I swear to you, I will,” murmured M. Lugarto in a low voice. 
 
 “ Do you dare to take an oath here ? I do not rely upon your 
 word, but upon my own, and I pledge that word to you, do you 
 hear ? my word as a man of honour, that you shall not set foot in 
 France again, and for an excellent reason which you v ill soon 
 understand. As, after all, you must be punished for your infamies, 
 and it does not suit me to have recourse to the law ; as, after all, 
 you are a forger, a murderer, a poisoner, and that wretches like 
 you are branded with a hot iron, I too, I myself will brand you, 
 do you hear ? and brand you not on the shoulder, but on the fore- 
 head — I will brand you with a T and an F so that you may be 
 easily recognized anywhere ! That will prevent your wishing to 
 return to France, I flatter myself !” 
 
 “ Oh ! this man is a fiend !” exclaimed M. Lugarto, clasping his 
 hands with terror and half rising from his seat. “ Good God ! 
 good God ! what more do you wish to do to me ? Have you not 
 insulted me, humiliated me enough ?” 
 
 “ I will brand you on the forehead. The blade of this knife, 
 when I have made it red hot in the flame of that candle, will 
 suffice to make a mark that cannot be effaced.” 
 
 As he spoke thus, M. de Mortagne took the knife with which I 
 had wounded myself, and put it close to one of the lights, M. Lu- 
 garto gazed at him with terror, and ran to the door. 
 
 It was locked. 
 
 He then came back, threw himself at my feet and exclaimed in 
 a voice of fearful agony, 
 
 “ Oh ! not that — not that — madame — have pity upon me. I 
 have outraged you — I have been a coward — an infamous one — I 
 will go away — I will go away — I will neyer come back. But not 
 that'*-- Oh ! in mercy, not that !” 
 
 The man’s features were completely distorted by terror, he wept 
 and stretched out his hands to M. de Mortagne. 
 
31G 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 M. de Mortagne, without the slightest emotion, continued to 
 heat the blade of the knife in the candle. 
 
 “ But you , sir, you will be less implacable 1” exclaimed M. Lu- 
 garto addressing M. de Bochegune. “ I caused you to be 
 treacherously attacked, I confess it. I repent it now — have pity 
 upon me, pray for me. But, in the name of heaven, not that. For 
 life ! do but think — branded for life- -upon the face. Ah 1 it is 
 horrible ! it is an infernal idea !” 
 
 M. de Bochegune shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. 
 
 “ But you , madame, you — you— oh ! my God I by the memory of 
 your mother whom you so loved, madame, pray for me 1” 
 
 In spite of myself, in spite of the horrible evil that man had 
 inflicted upon me, I recoiled from such a barbarous punishment. 
 
 “ My friend, my saviour,” I said to M. de Mortagne, “ leave him 
 to his remorse, only let him go away, let him go away.” 
 
 “ His remorse !” said M. de Mortagne, “ do scoundrels like him 
 ever feel remorse ? The only remorse he is capable of feeling will 
 be his rage at having the brand of a hot iron on his forehead. 
 Come, Bochegune, the knife is red hot — tie his hands.” 
 
 “ For pity’s sake, let him go !” I exclaimed. “ I will not assist 
 at such a scene of terrible torture. My friend, I implore you, such 
 a revenge is unworthy of you and myself.” 
 
 After having looked at M. Lugarto for a moment, who was sob- 
 bing and still murmuring prayers and supplications, M. de Mor- 
 tagne said to him. 
 
 “ Thanks to that angel of goodness, once again I take com- 
 passion upon you.” 
 
 “ Oh ! your hand — your hand, let me kiss your hand !” exclaimed 
 M. Lugarto with a burst of inexpressible gratitude, and dragging 
 himself upon his knees towards M. de Mortagne. 
 
 The latter hastily drew back, pushed him away with his foot and 
 said to him. 
 
 “ But I swear to you that if you dare to return into France, I 
 will do then what I do not now. You ought to know me well 
 enough to believe that I will recoil from nothing : two determined 
 men besides myself will suffice for the execution, and I shall easily 
 find a way to get you into my power.” 
 
 “ I promise you, I will never return to France, everything is ready 
 for my departure, my carriage will be here to-morrow, at the dawn 
 of day I will depart for Italy. I will travel day and night till I am 
 out of France, I swear to you I will,” said M. Lugarto, whose teeth 
 were chattering with terror. 
 
 “ Matilda, my child, you require repose,” said M. de Mortagne 
 to me. “ Your maid is there, you have nothing more to fear. 
 Come, Bochegune will remain with that wretch. To-morrow when 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 317 
 
 you have enjoyed a night’s repose, I will tell you how we discovered 
 that man’s evil design.” 
 
 I followed M. de Mortagne’s advice, and retired into the apart- 
 ment which had been prepared for me. 
 
 I soon fell into a profound sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 Tub next morning when I awoke, I fancied that I had been dream- 
 ing, but the acute pain caused by my wound, brought back to my 
 recollection the terrible scene of the preceding night. 
 
 My first impulse was again to thank God who had preserved me, 
 and who had restored Gontran to me. The odious mysteries which 
 had so long afflicted me, were now cleared up, and I felt no doubt 
 that henceforth my husband being tranquil and re-assured would 
 become once more what he had been to me in the first days of our 
 union. 
 
 I attributed to the fatal influence of M. Lugarto all the pain 
 which Gontran had involuntary inflicted upon me. Was it not in 
 obedience to his evil genius that he had paid attentions to Madame 
 de Ksernika ? At first, I confess that I feared to allow my thoughts 
 to dwell upon the fatal act which had placed M. de Lancry in the 
 power of M. Lugarto. And yet, becoming determined to put 
 an end at once to those painful reflections, I courageously considered 
 the conduct of Gontran. I endeavoured to palliate it by every 
 possible argument. Alas ! my principles were naturally too firm 
 to leave me any middle course between severe blame and a culpable 
 approbation — I condemned Gontran. For an instant I was thunder- 
 struck at perceiving that this fatal discovery did not in the least 
 impair my love for Gontran. I was almost terrified at still loving, 
 so passionately, a man capable of so wicked an action. I wept bit- 
 terly over his fault ; it was frightful for me to find myself superior 
 to him, and to have not reproaches but forgiveness to give him, 
 for a base deed. This feeling became so acute so painful, that 
 with a strange inconsistency almost inexplicable to me now, I who 
 had been unable to find an honourable excuse for his disgraceful 
 deed, did everything to persuade myself by several analogies, that 
 in a similar situation I should have acted as Gontran had done. I 
 cannot describe my joy when, after long and mature reflections 
 one more paradoxical than another, I became convinced of this 
 kind of moral complicity. With what triumphant delight I dis- 
 covered that I had no longer the right to blame Gontran ! Doubt- 
 
318 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 less, in that singular self-abasement of mine, there was a secret 
 thought of sacrifice and self-denial, of which, at that time, I had 
 but little idea, and which directed me, unknown to myself. 
 
 ********** 
 
 When I came down stairs into the drawing-room, I found M. de 
 Rochegune there, he blushed, and told me that M. de Mortagne 
 was giving some directions concerning my departure. 
 
 “ I was yesterday so troubled, and so unwell,” I said to him, 
 “ that I was hardly able to express all my gratitude to you. You 
 and M. de Mortagne have been my preservers. Nor do I forget 
 that during my illness — ” 
 
 “ I implore you, madame, do not let us talk of this. You 
 permitted me to call myself your friend, and I have acted in 
 that character.” 
 
 “ Ah ! sir, how can I ever repay you?” 
 
 “ By always allowing me to retain that precious title, madame, 
 by always allowing me to continue deserving it.” 
 
 1 know not why the painful idea suddenly occurred to me that 
 M. de Rochegune, being acquainted with Gontran’s secret, would 
 perhaps believe himself justified in judging the conduct of my 
 husband with severity. 
 
 By one of those strange coincidences of thought of which there 
 are so many instances, M. de Rochegune added, at that very moment. 
 “ And when I entreat you, madame, to allow me to call myself your 
 friend, I am bold enough to belive that you will not forget, I 
 shall be happy always to be considered one of M. de Lancry s friends 
 also?' 
 
 I remarked that M. de Rochegune laid an intentional emphasis 
 upon these last words. I thought this assurance so generous, it was 
 such a noble answer to my fears, that I could not help hastily ex- 
 claiming. 
 
 “ Oh ! thank you, sir ; thank you for him and for myself !” 
 
 M. de Rochegune, astonished at this emotion, looked at me. We 
 understood each other. 
 
 He understood my gratitude, as I had understood his kindness with 
 respect to Gontran. 
 
 A sweet and melancholy smile played round M. de Rochegune’s 
 mouth, and he said to me in a voice of emotion. 
 
 “ There are noble pleasures in life, madame, and it is too easy to 
 do good for such rewards.” 
 
 W e were both silent for a few minutes after these words of M. de 
 Rochegune. 
 
 I became embarrassed, by chance I looked up at him ; his glance 
 was vague and wandering, and he seemed plunged in meditation. 
 
THE OKFHAN. 
 
 319 
 
 His countenance, usually so severe and haughty, had now an ex- 
 pression of indescribable kindness. His black hair scarcely covered 
 a fresh and deep scar which was upon his forehead, and which I had 
 already remarked when he came to see me for the first time, after 
 my illness. In spite of myself my eyes were filled with tears when 
 I reflected that I had been the involuntary cause of the murderous 
 ambush into which M. de Rochegune had fallen, when he came to 
 enquire after my health from Blondeau. Wishing to break the 
 silence, I said to him. 
 
 “ You do not suffer now— from the wound which you received ?” 
 
 When he heard my voice, M. de Rochegune started and hastened 
 to reply. 
 
 “ I do not, madame.” Then as if this subject annoyed him, he 
 said to me in a tone of much feeling. 
 
 “ All I fear now, is lest that wretch Lugarto, although absent 
 from France, should revenge himself upon M. de Mortagne.” 
 
 “ How r 
 
 “ This morning that man departed, M. de Mortagne saw him 
 into his carriage, and gave him a final warning — ‘ Remember !’ he 
 said to him with a menacing gesture. — ‘ I will remember too well 
 for your peace !’ replied M. Lugarto, ‘ at whatever distance I may 
 be — I will contrive to reach you.’ And after shaking his fist at 
 M. de Mortagne he ordered the postillions to set off at full speed. 
 Oh ! madame, it is impossible to conceive anything more hideous 
 than the countenance of that man, as he uttered this last threat ; 
 its expression was a convulsive medley of hatred, revenge, terror 
 and fury.” 
 
 “ Great God !” I exclaimed, “ he is capable, even in a foreign 
 country, of setting on foot some treacherous machination against 
 M. de Mortagne, that monster has so many resources in his wealth 
 by which he can gratify his infernal malice !” 
 
 “ I share your fears,” said M. de Rochegune to me, “ and, un- 
 fortunately, I am compelled to leave M. de Mortagne. Otherwise, 
 I would have watched over his life as I would over a father’s.” 
 
 “ And whither then are you going, sir V’ 
 
 “ Into Greece, madame, to serve against the Turks. It is a 
 noble and holy cause to defend. And then I require excitement — 
 agitation.” 
 
 “ It is a war, they say, which is often a terrible one, a war of 
 extermination and without quarter ;” I said to M. de Rochegune, 
 earnestly. 
 
 “ It is a war like all wars, madame,” he replied with a melan- 
 choly smile, “ one either kills or is killed. Only in such a war as 
 that, one dies for a generous and heroic nation — and such a death 
 is a glorious and honourable one.” 
 
 “ Those are mournful presentiments,” I said, “ do not dwell 
 
320 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 upon them. As for me, I have a hope and even a conviction that 
 your friends will see you again.” 
 
 “ And I share that conviction, madame. One has no right to 
 be indifferent to life, when one has the least chance of being able 
 to serve those whom one loves and respects.” 
 
 M. de Mortagne now entered the room. He appeared very much 
 irritated. 
 
 “ I have just learned a fresh infamy of that Lugarto’s. Your 
 maid, whom I have been urging with questions and menaces, has 
 confessed to me that she was introduced into your service by that 
 man, and that in order to prevent your excellent Madame Blondeau 
 from accompanying you, she, like a vile creature as she is, had, in 
 compliance with Lugarto’s orders, mixed a certain powder in her 
 drink, which had rendered Blondeau so ill that she was unable to 
 accompany you.” 
 
 “ My friend, M. de Bochegune, has told me, that M. Lugarto 
 on his departure — ” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, he menaced me. I expect some infernal trick from 
 him, but I will be on my guard. All that I wanted was to deliver 
 you from him, and I think I have succeeded in that. Nevertheless, 
 I am sorry that I did not brand him — it would have been an ad- 
 ditional security.” 
 
 “ And also an additional motive for that man’s hatred and re- 
 venge,” I said to him. 
 
 “ If one were restrained by such fears as those, one should never 
 do anything,” said M. de Mortagne. “ I know very well against 
 whom I have to contend. But I must tell you how I followed the 
 trace of this abominable machination. Some time after your re- 
 turn from Chantilly, I heard, through Rochegune, the infamous 
 reports which Lugarto was circulating respecting you : at that time 
 I was ill and unable to go out. Rochegune’s first impulse was to 
 go to Lugarto and to command him to hold his tongue, he knew 
 him of old, was aware that he was a thorough coward, and did not 
 doubt that a vigorous menace would intimidate him ; I persuaded him 
 to do nothing of the kind — I had written to London to obtain in- 
 formation as to the life which M. de Lancry had led there previously 
 to his marriage.” 
 
 Seeing that the conversation was about to turn upon M. de Lan- 
 cry, M. de Rochegune, with a feeling of exquisite delicacy which I 
 fully appreciated, said to M. de Mortagne. 
 
 “ I have some directions to give about our departure, I will there- 
 fore leave you.” 
 
 He bowed to me, and then left the room. 
 
 M. de Mortagne continued — 
 
 “ I was informed that in London M. de Lancry had spent a great 
 deal of money, and that according to public report that money had 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 321 
 
 been lent to him by Lugarto. This, joined to other circumstances, 
 convinced me that your husband was in the power of that man, not 
 that I believed, however, that power to have been rendered still 
 more despotic and dangerous by the document which you are aware 
 of. I therefore persuaded Rochegune to take patience and to wait 
 till I was recovered. A confidential man of mine who has been in 
 my service for twenty years, got into conversation with some of Lu- 
 garto’s domestics. I learnt through them that they had often heard 
 M. de Lancry, when closeted with their master, implore Lugarto not 
 to ruin him. This information satisfied me that there was some- 
 thing else in the wind besides a mere pecuniary obligation, and I 
 determined to discover this secret, at whatever cost and to protect 
 you from the evil designs of Lugarto. He knew my affection for 
 you. 
 
 “ I soon perceived that I was watched, for that man, by dint of 
 money, has established a sort of police for himself, by means of 
 which he discovers a number of secrets that he employs and abuses 
 as opportunity offers ; this you have seen in the instances of 
 Madame de Ksernika and Madame de Richeville. In order to put 
 his suspicions on a wrong scent, I left Paris, and his spies lost all 
 trace of me : this was about the time of your illness. A few days 
 afterwards I returned to Paris, and settled myself in an out of the 
 way quarter of the town, this, however, did not prevent me from 
 watching Lugarto’s proceedings, and I knew, as well as he did, that 
 needy rascals are always to be bribed. Now as almost all his 
 servants have been his accomplices in some of his wicked or dis- 
 graceful actions, I was enabled to purchase some of them, and I 
 thus learned that some time ago he had hired and purchased an 
 isolated house in the direction of Chantilly. It is this very house 
 — I came here to satisfy myself as to the fact, and to reconnoitre 
 the situation of the place. I was aware that Lugarto counterfeited 
 hand writing with detestable adroitness. Dreading some stratagem 
 I sent you directions by Rochegune never to leave your husband, 
 taking for granted that Lugarto would choose the period of his 
 absence in order to play you some infernal trick. The scene at 
 Tortoni’s took place — I only heard of it next day through Roche- 
 gune. I sent to your house, and was told that you had just set off for 
 Ursula’s, and that M. de Lancry was also absent. I sent to Lu- 
 garto’s, who, according to the servant’s account, was laid up in bed 
 with a sword wound received that very morning. Knowing the 
 character of the man, I did not believe in this sword wound, and 
 above all I was struck at your separation from Gontran ; an hour’s 
 delay or hesitation might ruin everything — if you had really gone 
 to Madame Sccherin’s you were in no danger, we had no need 
 therefore to let our thoughts dwell upon that hypothesis ; and we 
 determined to come here at all hazards. We were on the point of 
 y 
 
322 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 overtaking you at the declivity of Luzarches, when that devil of a 
 man contrived to upset us over a heap of pavement, the crash was 
 terrible, for some minutes I was insensible — ” 
 
 “ My friend ! good God ! so many perils already incurred, and 
 for me always for me ! n 
 
 “ Those perils are reckoned for nothing, my poor girl, except 
 w r hen they make me arrive too late. This time, thank heaven, it 
 was not the case. After a few moments of insensibility I recovered. 
 I and Rochegune had both got Gff with a few severish bruises. 
 But our horses could not stir a step, our postillion had a leg 
 broken, and my carriage was dashed to pieces. We counted every 
 second ; it would take us more than an hour to walk here, we set 
 off — Fortunately, after a quarter of an hour’s walk, we met the 
 post horses returning, which had brought you here. From the 
 details given to us by the postillions there was no doubt that it 
 was you. I and Rochegune took the two saddled horses, and we 
 set off at full speed, in half an hour we were within a few steps of 
 the house. In order not to arouse any suspicions we left our horses 
 a little way off. All the windows were closed, but we could see a 
 light through the blinds. We had just made up our minds to 
 knock violently at the door, when a window on the ground floor 
 was opened, it was your maid, who doubtless wanted some air. 
 We saw too an old woman and Fritz, sitting in a low parlour, with one 
 leap we were in the room, with pistols in our hands. Rochegune 
 placed himself at the door, and I took my station at the window. 
 The wretches fell upon their knees overcome with terror. 
 
 “ ‘ There must be a w'ood house, or a cellar, somewhere,’ I said 
 to them, ‘ shew us the way there or we will blow your brains out.’ ” 
 To your right, beneath the vestibule is the cellar door/ said 
 the old woman to me. 
 
 “ Five minutes afterwards, Fritz and the two women were shut 
 up. We entered the room which opens into the apartment in 
 which you were, we heard voices, it was Lugarto who was telling 
 you all his horrible machinations. These revelations might be of 
 service to us, so we waited till the instant when you, my poor girl, 
 so courageously wounded yourself.” 
 
 “ Noble and generous friend,” I said to M. de Mortagne, pressing 
 his hands in mine, “ always— always there, when I am to be assisted 
 or preserved ?” 
 
 “ Y es ! doubtless, always there. Without you what interest should 
 I have in life ? But, my child, you must put this letter to your 
 husband into the post this very day : he will find it on his arrival 
 in London, it will convey to him that unfortunate forgery of his, and 
 restore him to freedom. To defeat the malicious rumours set about 
 by Lugarto, and to explain your departure from Paris, so that your 
 husband may have no suspicion of what has happened to night, you 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 323 
 
 must immediately set off for Madame Sdcherin’s country place. 
 Once there you must write word to your husband — that as you 
 were unwilling to remain at Paris without him, you had gone to 
 spend the period of his absence at Ursula's. You must address 
 your letter to your own house at Paris, and then he will find it on 
 his arrival.” 
 
 “ But, my friend, why not tell everything to Gontran ?” 
 
 “ Why ? my poor girl ! because from the moment when your 
 husband knows that you are acquainted w.th the disgraceful action 
 which he has committed, he will hate you — he will be forced to 
 blush in your presence — and he will never * forgive you for his own 
 fault” 
 
 “ Ah ! can you believe V\ 
 
 “ Listen, Matilda, I wish to use no reproaches — I only wish to 
 see in M. de Lancry the man whom you love : your noble and holy 
 affection is his safe-guard in my eyes : but still be just ; when he 
 knew that you were miserable at his hideous intimacy with a man 
 whom he despised, whom he detested as much as you did, had he 
 the courage to make this fatal confession to you? No! he pre- 
 ferred that the most infamous reports should be circulated and 
 acquire credit respecting you.” 
 
 “ But it would have been ruin to him, to have broken off openly 
 with M. Lugarto’ — ” 
 
 “ But it would have preserved your reputation, my poor girl, 
 who were innocent of all the vile charges brought against you. If 
 your husband had not been so abominably selfish, he would have 
 braved courageously the consequences of his fault, instead of suf- 
 fering you to be disgraced in the eyes of the world. After that 
 scene at Tortoni's, which revealed at least one impulse of generous 
 indignation on his part, did he not once more give way to all that 
 was exacted from him by Lugarto ? Did he not, if I may use the 
 expression, abandon you to that most cowardly man’s infamous at- 
 tempts ? Believe, me, Matilda, my poor, my beloved child, it 
 requires all the respect, all the admiration with which your devotion 
 inspires me, to hinder me from saying what I think. I do not 
 wish to sadden you still more. Only, believe my experience, and 
 never tell Gontran that you are in possession of his secret. That 
 avowal would be fatal to you — I repeat it again, the man, who in 
 the terrible circumstances in which you were placed, had not suf- 
 ficient confidence in your heart, to confess everything to you, would 
 be implacable, if he knew that you were acquainted with a mystery 
 which he has so obstinately concealed.” 
 
 “ But, after all, if Gontran should by chance discover that I have 
 been in this house U 
 
 “ I have thought of that — I have thought also that Lugarto, 
 with some fresh idea of malice of which I cannot yet perceive the 
 
324 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 purpose, might write an account of the whole business to your 
 husband, but in such a case this declaration with his signature, my 
 testimony and that of Rocliegune would suffice to put you out of 
 reach of all calumny, for we must be prepared for everything.'’ 
 
 “ I will follow your advice,” I said to M. de Mortagne with a 
 sigh. “ And yet, I confess, it hurts me to conceal anything from 
 Gontran.” 
 
 M. de Mortagne, without replying, took my two hands, and 
 looked at me for some minutes in silence. 
 
 His strongly marked features wore an expression of indescribable 
 emotion. In spite of himself he shed tears — J cannot tell how 
 deeply touched 1 felt, at seeing those tears fall from a man of such 
 energy and resolution. 
 
 Good God ! what is the matter, my friend ?” I exclaimed, 
 unable to restrain my own tears. 
 
 “ I cannot yet foresee that happiness will be your lot for the 
 future. Poor girl, your husband is delivered from a fearful tyranny, 
 your fortune is re-established. M. de Lancry is cruelly in need of 
 your forgiveness, and repentance ought to render still better those 
 hearts which are naturally good. And yet I fear — I am not re- 
 assured.” 
 
 “ These are vain terrors, my friend, your affection for me alarms 
 itself without reason, believe me.” 
 
 “ Alas ! I hope I am mistaken,” said M. de Mortagne with a 
 melancholy shake of the head. 
 
 “ By the bye,” I said, “ it is an understood thing, is it not, that 
 we are to repay you the considerable sum of money which you have 
 laid out for us f 5 
 
 “ Listen, Matilda, I have an income of nearly sixty thousand 
 livres. During the years which, thanks to Mademoiselle de Maran, 
 I spent in the dungeons of Venice, I was forced to lay by con- 
 siderable sums, I have but few wants, I employ nearly all my 
 income in relieving obscure and unpretending misfortune, you will 
 inherit all I have, and therefore this money is merely a sum paid 
 in advance.” 
 
 “ Yet, my friend — ” 
 
 “ Listen to me again — your marriage contract was so dishonour- 
 ably drawn up, that you who brought all the money to the common 
 stock, have not a farthing settled to your own use, your husband 
 has it in his power to plunder and ruin you completely. Luckily I 
 am here, and my fortune is your security for the future.” 
 
 “ Fear not, my friend, I assure you that Gontran has quite given 
 up all his expensive pursuits — he does not gamble any more.” 
 
 “ The establishment you keep at Paris, was from the first much 
 too considerable for your fortune, and I am sure that M. de Lancry 
 when he sees himself delivered from Lugarto will again launch out 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 3 25 
 
 into all kinds of extravagance. You have still four hundred 
 thousand francs clear income, after the expenses of your hotel are 
 paid ; well, in five or six years from this time, your husband may 
 have squandered everything — I know what prodigals are.” 
 
 “ But, my friend — ” 
 
 “ But, my poor girl, he was not deterred or restrained by the 
 disgrace of committing a forgery, in order to obtain money. What 
 then will there be to check him, when he will be able to make 
 ducks and drakes of your fortune % Forgive me, Matilda, I grieve 
 you, I know — but there are some stern truths which must be told. 
 I have never failed in my duty in that respect, and I never will. 
 I implore you, resist the prodigalities of your husband, to the 
 utmost of your power ; adopt this resolution for your sake and for 
 his own. I will say nothing to him, I will reserve my influence 
 for extreme cases. He is violent, passionate, and impatient of 
 remonstrances — little, however, does that matter, when your 
 interest requires me to speak out — I will speak, and so as to be 
 heard, and listened to, I give you my word. Now then, farewell, 
 my child. When the least thing happens write to me at Paris, 
 and always depend upon me — and upon Rochegune. As for him, 
 may God preserve him to me, for he is going to engage in a 
 terrible war, and he is not a man to spare himself in it. Farewell, 
 once more farewell ! I will send Blondeau to you at Madame 
 Secherin’s, one of my servants, who accompanied me yesterday, 
 and who has just arrived with my carriage, will go with you, he 
 has been in my service for a long time — this will convince you that 
 he is to be trusted. Besides him you can take the maid that you 
 brought with you, but discharge her as soon as Blondeau arrives, 
 and on your return to Paris, make a clear house, lest some dangerous 
 creature of Lugarto’s should remain among your servants, and do 
 not renew your establishment, except with domestics who come to 
 you with the best recommendations. Come, once more, fare- 
 well.” 
 
 For the last time, I again embraced that excellent friend, gently 
 weeping as I did so. I pressed M. de Rochegune’s hands affection- 
 ately, and I then set off for Touraine, looking forward with delight 
 to surprise Ursula by my unexpected visit. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE SECHERIN FAMILY. 
 
 The estate which M. Secherin at that time inhabited with Ursula, 
 was situated at ltouvray in Touraine, on the borders of the Loire. 
 
32C 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 I was obliged to pass through Paris on my way there, and I stopped 
 in that city in order to put into the post, with my own hands, M. 
 Lugarto’s letter to Gontran, that letter which was to transport my 
 husband with joy, and to deliver him from the odious influence to 
 which he had so long been subjected. It was now the end of June. 
 I travelled with great speed, and the farther I got from Paris the 
 more freely I seemed to breathe : the sight of the cheerful country 
 scenes through which I passed, calmed me, and did me good ; my 
 heart expanded — I was about to see, once more, the dear friend of 
 my childhood. After so many cruel emotions I was about to taste 
 the peaceful repose of the country, and I looked forward with 
 delight to share for some time the peaceful existence of Ursula and 
 her husband. It was long since I had heard from my cousin. 
 In her last letters she continued to lament her lot, but she sup- 
 ported it with a melancholy resignation. I knew the exaltation of 
 Ursula’s disposition, and the kindness of her husband, so I did not 
 feel much uneasiness on her account. I had not written to her one 
 word about the troubles which had for some time disturbed my 
 existence, and I was resolved not to confide anything of them to 
 her, for the secret was not mine only but also that of Gontran. 
 I arrived at Rouvray at sunset on a charming summer’s evening. 
 I passed on the left some large buildings, where was established 
 the factory of M. Secherin. A beautiful avenue of lime trees led 
 to the house. 
 
 Scarcely had my carriage proceeded through half this avenue, 
 when I perceived Ursula. The horses were stopped, the door 
 opened, and I flung myself into my cousin’s arms. It is impossible 
 to describe her joy, and above all, her astonishment ; she embraced 
 me, gazed at me as if she could not believe her own eyes, and then 
 embraced me again. 
 
 “ What ! is it you 1 really you ?” she said. “ What a delightful 
 surprise 1” 
 
 “ Yes, Ursula, it is Matilda, your sister. I am come to spend a 
 few days with you, while my husband is in England.” 
 
 “ What a charming idea that was of yours, Matilda ! and how 
 grateful I feel to you for it ! It is only a pity that our poor house 
 is so unworthy of receiving you.” 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders with a smile. 
 
 “ And your husband, where and how is he ?” 
 
 “ Extremely well,” replied Ursula. 
 
 After this excitement of our first meeting I looked at my cousin, 
 and I thought her prettier than ever. 
 
 “ You look so pretty that you must be happy,” I said to her. 
 
 “ Happy !” she replied in an accent of sudden melancholy 
 — “ happy ? yes — I am happy,” and she stifled a sigh. “ But it is 
 to you that I must talk of happiness !” 
 
 A Oh yes !” I exclaimed, “ especially at this instant, you cannot 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 327 
 
 tell how delighted I am at seeing you once more, you cannot tell 
 how much I anticipate from the days I am going to spend with 
 you.” 
 
 I took Ursula’s arm, and we proceeded towards the house. The 
 building was of tolerable dimensions, and surrounded by a garden 
 laid out in squares, and quincunxes, and bordered by alleys of 
 elm trees cut out with all the regularity of the old French 
 fashion, giving a calm and somewhat solemn aspect to the place — 
 at the end of one of these extensive arches of verdure which came 
 out upon a terrace, a view of the Loire was obtained. 
 
 “ You think this place very provincial, and vulgar, do you not V 7 
 said Ursula to me, “ but M. Secherin, or rather his mother, will 
 not allow the slightest change to be made, under the pretence of 
 its all having been just as it is now, in the time of M. Sficherin’s 
 late father, which does not prevent the place being frightful as you 
 may perceive. And that dreadful French garden, would you not 
 think it was a convent garden 1 how melancholy and gloomy 
 it is !” 
 
 “ No — no — you are calumniating the place, my dear Ursula, I 
 think the garden a very fine and noble looking one, and then you 
 have — -at least I think so — a terrace leading to the borders of the 
 Loire, do you not reckon that something ?” 
 
 “ As indulgent and kind as ever, dear Matilda !” 
 
 “ No, indeed, I assure you I am delighted with it all. It is so 
 calm, so tranquil.” 
 
 “ Oh ! God knows there is calmness enough, fortunately one doe3 
 not hear the stunning noise of the machines in M. Secherin’s 
 factory.” 
 
 “ That is where those great buildings are, which one sees as one 
 approaches, is it not 1 Why it is a magnificent establishment.” 
 
 “ Magnificent ! yes for a factory. There is not a more gloomy 
 thing in the world — unless it be having this same factory's mar- 
 vellous results, the number of workmen it employs, its importance 
 in the country, etc. etc., dinned into one’s ears from morning to 
 night. You must resign yourself, my poor Matilda, to a constant 
 endurance of such interesting topics. What a change for you who 
 are accustomed to that brilliant existence in society, of which, alas ! 
 
 I caught but a glimpse before I came and buried myself here.” 
 
 I gave Ursula a reproachful look. 
 
 “ My sister — my sister,” I said to her. “ I am afraid I shall 
 have to scold you again : I am sure you are calumniating your own 
 happiness. Ah ! believe me, that world — that world of which we 
 used to form such brilliant ideas, that world is a very sad and 
 wicked one. How much should I prefer to all its false pleasures 
 the peaceable existence which you lead in this spot.” 
 
 Ursula looked at me with surprise. 
 
328 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 ‘‘You — you/’ she said “ you envy me ? you must indeed be 
 miserable then, Matilda. What has happened to you ? Have you 
 then concealed anything from me V 
 
 “ No, my dear Ursula,” I hastened to reply, “‘but, I assure you, 
 the pleasures of the world only dazzle but do not fill the heart : 
 you know, I was always a- somewhat uncivilized being ; even at 
 Mademoiselle de Maran’s, I preferred spending my evenings with 
 you in our room, to remaining in the drawing room.” 
 
 “ How well I recognise your habitual kindness and delicacy,” said 
 Ursula to me, “ you pretend to envy me in order to make me think 
 my own lot a desirable one ! But, come, let me shew you to your 
 apartment. You must excuse our modest hospitality.” 
 
 We entered the house. 
 
 Everything was simple but had a character of extreme neatness. 
 We ascended a great square-tiled staircase (with massive wooden 
 balustrades) which brought us out upon a long gallery, into which 
 opened the doors of several apartments. Ursula opened one of these 
 doors, I passed through a small ante-chamber and found myself in a 
 very large room with antique grey wainscoting. At the farther end 
 was a canopied bed with curtains of Persian cloth, representing red 
 Chinese subjects upon a white ground. Over the doors and the 
 chimney-piece were painted panels of pastoral scenes after Wat- 
 teau. There were light green trees, a fine azure sky, shepherdesses 
 in rose coloured petticoats, and shepherds in sky blue coats, at 
 whose feet were lying snow white sheep with large rosettes of 
 ribbands round their necks. 
 
 I cannot describe how delighted I was at the sight of these 
 Arcadian scenes, which, though certainly somewhat affected and 
 out of nature, were yet so smiling in their rustic tranquillity that 
 they communicated a delicious feeling of repose to my mind. 
 There were spacious windows, with small panes of glass, opening 
 into the garden, and commanding views of the Loire. A set of 
 drawers and a desk both inlaid with marqueterie, some other 
 articles of furniture painted of a grey colour, and covered, like 
 the curtains, with red and white Persian cloth, completed the 
 contents of this apartment. 
 
 Ursula seemed ashamed of this simplicity which to me was 
 enchanting, I could fancy nothing more gay, more cheerful. Two 
 other rooms furnished with similar taste and of which one might be 
 used as a little drawing room, were attached to the apartment. 
 
 “Then,” said Ursula tome, “you can really put up with this 
 room 1” 
 
 “ I like it so much that if M. de Lancry will stop here a few days 
 when he comes to fetch me, I give you notice that you will have some 
 trouble in getting rid of us.” 
 
 “ Well, well, I believe you, my good Matilda, all my fear is lest 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 329 
 
 you should soon grow weary of this existence which, I am certain, 
 owes all its charms to your imagination. I fear too that you will 
 soon find my mother-in-law, Madame Secherin, insupportable.” 
 
 “ Why, your husband said she was the best woman in the world .’ 5 
 
 “ Sons are always indulgent : you will see her. She has no in- 
 tellect, no usage of the world, a bigot in religion and with an 
 obstinacy of purpose which, had she as much intelligence as self-will, 
 would be an incredible firmness of disposition ; neither myself or 
 her son have been able to induce her, to make the slightest altera- 
 tion in this house, to change the number of servants, or to place their 
 services upon a better footing. Her eternal tune is, ‘ My poor dear 
 deceased Secherin was quite satisfied with the way things went on .’ 
 So you, Matilda, who possess, they say, one of the best and most 
 elegant establishments in Paris,” continued Ursula, colouring up with 
 confusion, “ must not be too severe in your ridicule of us, when you 
 see us served at table by two coarse Touraine country girls ; it is a 
 fancy of my mother-in-law’s, and nothing in the world can induce 
 her to give it up.” 
 
 I looked at my cousin without being able to conceal from her the 
 pain I felt. 
 
 “ Why surely, Ursula, you must know me very little if you can 
 think me capable of even remarking such miserable trifles. Is not 
 my first thought the pleasure of being with you ¥' 
 
 Seven o’clock now struck. 
 
 “ I will send your maid to you, directly,” said Ursula to me, 
 “ Madame Secherin sups punctually at eight. Yes, sups, for nothing 
 can persuade her to change her gothic customs, and she would have 
 the rudeness to sit down without you, if you did not happen to be 
 ready.” 
 
 “ And I should much regret it, my good Ursula, for your mother- 
 in-law might perhaps think my want of punctuality a piece of dis- 
 respect on my part, and you know, I think there is nothing entitled 
 to more respect than family customs.” 
 
 Ursula left the room, I lamented for her own sake her fears and 
 her remarks. She seemed almost humiliated not to say angry at 
 the simplicity of my reception, and one would have said that she 
 was thinking still more of her own vanity than of me. I now 
 remember that my cousin, even while protesting her delight, her 
 felicity at seeing me again, appeared to me annoyed at my arrival, 
 and at first I attributed that feeling of annoyance to the childish 
 motives which I have mentioned. I was soon to know the true and 
 miserable cause of her embarrassment. 
 
 I dressed as quickly and as simply as I could — Ursula knocked 
 at my door. 
 
 “ You will excuse my mother-in-law’s not having come to see you, 
 but she has some difficulty in walking, and it would have been a 
 
330 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN 
 
 very painful effort for her to ascend the staircase. My husband 
 has this moment arrived from the factory, he will come to you in 
 the drawing-room.” 
 
 “ Let us make haste down stairs, for I am determined to make 
 a conquest of your mother-in-law.” I laughingly said to Ursula. 
 
 “ Oh ! you will have a good deal of trouble to do that. I in vain 
 reminded her of your rank, the position of your husband, in vain 
 expatiated upon your elegance and your wealth, she did not seem 
 disposed to make more fuss for you than she would for some pro- 
 vincial dame of our sous-prefecture. You will excuse this want 
 of education will you not ?” 
 
 “ This simplicity, my dear Ursula, gives me, on the contrary, a 
 better opinion of your mother-in-law, and I really must and will 
 please her.” 
 
 We went down stairs, and entered first a dining-room where the 
 table was laid, and then a drawing-room, in which was Madame 
 Secherin. 
 
 I remember that scene in all its slightest details, for I was much 
 struck by the harmony which, if I may say so, existed between Madame 
 Secherin and the objects which surrounded her. I had lately un- 
 dergone such agitating emotions that I of all others was sure to find 
 an infinite charm in every thing which brought back ideas of calm, 
 and of tranquillity. 
 
 The windows and glass doors of this drawing-room opened upon 
 a parterre enamelled with flowers. From an enormous beam which 
 traversed the whole ceiling hung a chandelier of rock crystal, care- 
 fully enveloped in white gauze — the only ornaments were here and 
 there several gilt frames fastened by hooks to the grey wainscoting, 
 and containing various studies of heads, produced by the pencil of 
 Ursula’s husband when he was learning to draw at the college of 
 Tours, and offered to liis father or mother on their birthdays, as was 
 testified by some inscriptions written in a magnificent hand. Upon 
 the marble chimneypiece were seen a clock and some candlesticks of 
 gilt bronze, covered with gauze like the chandelier ; two mahogany 
 brackets placed between the windows, some arm-chairs, and two 
 couches, with dimity covers, completed the furniture of this 
 apartment, the floor of which was of red tiles, and shone with 
 scrupulous neatness. 
 
 Madame Secherin, was seated in an arm chair, placed in the 
 recess of one of the windows which was open, and beneath which 
 was a clump of rose trees in full flower, and of some extent. 
 An old grey parrot with a red collar was walking with an air of 
 gravity along the ledge of the window. 
 
 Ursula’s mother-in-law was engaged with her distaff and spinning 
 wheel. 
 
 She was a woman of about seventy years of age, and wore a black 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 331 
 
 gown, while her head dress was a kind of cambric bavolet, which 
 came down closely on both sides of her hollow and wrinkled cheeks. 
 
 Her countenance, at first sight, appeared merely simple and 
 grave, but if you observed her more attentively, you might discern 
 an expression of considerable firmness, while a long habit of observa- 
 tion was revealed by her calm but profoundly scrutinizing glance. 
 
 I was in an instant convinced that Ursula was prejudiced against 
 her mother-in-law, or that she judged her incorrectly. What 
 especially proved in my eyes Madame Secherin to be no vulgar 
 woman, was that she received me with an affable dignity, and with- 
 out the slightest embarrassment. On my entrance, she rose with a 
 painful effort, and leaning upon the arm of her chair, made me an 
 affectionate inclination of the head saying, 
 
 “You are very kind, madame, to come and see my daughter-in- 
 law, my son and myself will do all we can to make your visit here a 
 pleasant one.” 
 
 “ How could it be otherwise than pleasant, madame ? I am with 
 a sister of whom I am devotedly fond, and for whose husband I feel 
 the greatest esteem, while you receive me with a cordiality which 
 gives me still greater hopes.” 
 
 “ I feel extremely disposed to like you, my son has told me that 
 you are a good and honourable lady — the good take to the good, 
 and I hope that you will be satisfied with us.” 
 
 “ I have not the least doubt of it, madame.” 
 
 “We have no ceremony here,” said Madame Secherin, returning 
 to her spinning wheel, we live quite in the old fashioned way — just 
 as we did in my poor husband’s time. I could not have changed 
 those customs which had been his for so many years.” 
 
 “ I can understand that religion of the memory, madame, and I 
 admire it, it is thus that the absence of a beloved being is more 
 deeply felt — there is no bitterness in these regrets, for they are 
 softened by the hope of being some day re-united to those whom we 
 are mourning.” 
 
 Madame Secherin looked at me for an instant with an air of 
 interest, and replied — “ One good heart understands another — ” 
 then she sighed, was silent for a few moments, and continued, as if 
 desirous to change the course of her reflections. 
 
 “ These are our Touraine habits, Madame, we breakfast at nine ; 
 we dine at two, we sup at eight, and at ten we are all in bed, for 
 you know early risers must be early goers to bed. My son is a 
 stir at cock crow, and he cannot sit up late.” 
 
 Ursula looked at me with an air that was almost imploring, and 
 shrugged her shoulders with a glance at her mother-in-law. 
 
 My cousin was afraid that I should be annoyed by the simple 
 familiarity with which Madame Secherin received me, while on the 
 contrary I was delighted at her reception, and thought it a most 
 
332 
 
 THE ORMAN. 
 
 becoming one. There is nothing more meanly and distressingly 
 vulgar than all that false and noisy assiduity, those humble protesta- 
 tions, and those exaggerated regrets at being nothing but poor 
 country people unworthy of receiving any body from the capital (the 
 sous-prefecture style as Mademoiselle de Maran used to say.) 
 
 M. Secherin hastily entered, he seemed delighted to see me, and 
 came to me with open arms, to embrace me. This movement of his 
 was so natural, so cordial, that I offered him my two cheeks, not 
 without a slight smile and blush. M. Secherin made the room 
 echo again, with a couple of hearty kisses, to Ursula’s great con- 
 fusion, who could not help saying to him in a half whisper. 
 
 “ Really, monsieur, you are mad ! What manners ! Pray forgive 
 him, Matilda !” 
 
 “ What do you mean by your ‘ what manners T” he exclaimed. 
 “ Is it because I have kissed my cousin’s two cheeks with all my 
 heart ? All I can say is that I am delighted to see her, and that is my 
 way of proving it to her.” 
 
 “ Do you not see Ursula is jealous, my dear cousin ?” I laughingly 
 said to M. Secherin. 
 
 He nevertheless seemed to have reflected upon Ursula’s words, 
 and said to me with a look of confusion, almost of sadness. 
 
 “ After all, my wife perhaps is right. Doubtless, cousin, I was 
 wrong. Pardon me, but I was really so happy to see you that I 
 did not reflect whether it were the custom to embrace you, or not.” 
 
 “ I have a good mind, my dear cousin, to ask you to begin again, 
 so as to teach Ursula not to scold you any more unjustly.” 
 
 “ Indeed 1 then you are not angry ?” exclaimed M. Secherin, 
 whose countenance instantly cleared up. 
 
 " Do I look as if I were ?” I replied to him. 
 
 “ God bless my soul ! how uncommonly kind you are to be sure ! 
 For all the world like your excellent aunt Mademoiselle de Maran. 
 And by-the-bye, how is that excellent lady ?” 
 
 “ She is quite well,” I replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed and 
 exchanging a glance with Ursula. 
 
 “Ah 1 mamma,” continued M. Secherin, with enthusiasm, “you 
 have no idea what a good woman that Mademoiselle de Maran — 
 Madame de Lancry’s aunt — is !” She has no more nonsense about 
 her than that !” with a snap of his fingers. “ In short she and you, 
 mamma, are as like one another in disposition as two peas ! she 
 is a second yourself, and that is saying all.” 
 
 “ You have always told me so, my son, and I believe you.” 
 
 “ And I shall always say so. There is Madame de Lancry who 
 will tell you the same thing. The first time I saw her, Mademoiselle 
 de Maran began talking to me directly, just as you would have 
 talked to me yourself, mamma, she remonstrated with me, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 333 
 
 indeed she lectured me a little because- I used some expressions 
 which I ought not to have done. And such frankness is so rare — 
 ain’t it mamma T 
 
 “ The old owe the lessons of their experience to the young ; it is 
 for that God leaves them upon earth,” replied Madame S6cherin 
 with simplicity, and continuing to turn her wheel. Then happening 
 to look up at her son she said to him. “ Are you going to the town 
 to-night.” 
 
 “ No, mamma. What made you think I was going there ?” 
 
 “ You have got on your black coat, and a white cravat, and you 
 are fresh shaved.” 
 
 “ That was my wife’s idea, mamma, she told me to go and smarten 
 myself up on Madame de Lancry’s account. I had nothing but my 
 blouse on when I returned from the factory.” 
 
 “ How is this, Ursula ? On my account ! oh ! cousin, I and you 
 shall quarrel if you change your usual customs, in any one respect, 
 while I am here.” 
 
 “ There ! I told you so, Bellotte ,” said M. Secherin. “ I was sure 
 that Madame de Lancry would not care twopence about my sitting 
 down to table in my blouse and my day-before-yesterday’s beard.” 
 
 “ Once more, my dear cousin, I should be in despair at having 
 come here, were I to become a restraint upon you in any respect.” 
 
 “ Well then, it is a bargain, cousin. I agree to it, and for the 
 future, whatever my wife may say, I will keep on my blouse. You 
 will forgive me, won’t you 1 The fact is, that when one has been 
 hard at work all day one likes deucedly to be at one’s ease at 
 night.” 
 
 “ The fact is that you labour as hard as if you still had your for- 
 tune to make, my son,” said Madame Secherin, with a sigh, “ and 
 yet God in his goodness sent a blessing upon your father’s 
 industry.” 
 
 “ Make your mind easy, mamma ; when my income amounts to 
 a clear hundred thousand francs per annum, I shall stop the machi- 
 nery. I have said to myself, ‘ My wife thinks I am not rich enough 
 yet, she wants to have a hundred thousand francs a year, to cut a 
 dash at Paris with. Very well then, she shall have her hundred 
 thousand francs a year ! It is so sweet, so delightful to think that 
 all the trouble I take is pleasing to my wife, to think, in short, that 
 it is in my power to realize all her wishes, and that I have only got 
 to work in order to do so. Eeally, cousin, when I think of that 
 I am as happy as a prince at being able to work like a negro. 
 This accounts for my hands being so black, for I have no time to 
 make myself a dandy !” said M. Secherin with a loud laugh. And 
 he shev/ed me his immense hands which certainly bore witness to 
 the veracity of his joke. 
 
 Ursula reddened with shame and anger, and gave her husband 
 
334 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 a furious look, The poor fellow glanced timidly at me, and con- 
 templated his hands with a look of extreme confusion. 
 
 “ And when that honorable hand is offered as the pledge of a 
 sincere promise, or a sincere friendship, the friendship or the pro- 
 mise so pledged is sacred ! — I know it,” I said to M. Secherin offer- 
 ing him my hand. 
 
 This movement, those simple words, which were inspired by my 
 sympathy for that excellent man, who was as honourable and devoted 
 as he was unpolished, brought the tears into his eyes : he lifted 
 my hand to his lips almost with veneration. 
 
 His mother interrupted her work, looked fixedly at me, and said 
 to me in a voice of much emotion, 
 
 “ Madame, will you permit me to embrace you ? you — you do 
 justice indeed to my poor son !” 
 
 And with a severe look at Ursula, who shrugged her shoulders, 
 Madame Secherin made a movement to get up. 
 
 “ Do not disturb yourself, madame,” I said to her and bending 
 towards her as I spoke. 
 
 She kissed me twice upon the forehead. When I looked at her 
 I saw two tears gliding down her venerable cheeks. She slowly 
 wiped them off without saying a word and returned to her 
 spinning. 
 
 “ My poor mother — you quite spoil her by talking to her, about 
 me, in that way,” whispered M. Secherin to me with a look of 
 emotion. 
 
 All this had passed with the utmost rapidity. 
 
 On looking at Ursula I was surprised at the ironical expression 
 with which she contemplated this scene. 
 
 The clock of M. Secherin’s factory struck eight. 
 
 “ Mamma, give me your arm — let’s go to supper — I have got a 
 tremendous appetite,” said M. Secherin, to his mother, as he ad- 
 vanced towards her. 
 
 “ No, no, my son, give your hand to your cousin ; my daughter- 
 in-law will assist me.” 
 
 “ Another change in the family customs which I will not allow, 
 madame ; are we not all one family here ?” I said taking Ursula’s 
 arm. 
 
 “ Madame de Lancry is right ; come, mamma,” said M. Secherin 
 approaching his mother, who leant upon him, and passed on before 
 us. 
 
 “ Eeally, Matilda,” said Ursula to me in a half whisper, and with 
 almost an air of annoyance, “ you have made, as you wished, a con- 
 quest of my mother-in-law. I never before heard her desire her 
 son to offer his arm to any other person but herself. Female rela- 
 tions of ours have dined here twenty times, and such a thing never 
 happened.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 335 
 
 “ So much the better, I am quite proud of my conquest,” I replied 
 with a smile to Ursula, “ for I think your mother-in-law a very re- 
 spectable and dignified person.” 
 
 “ Dignified ? — my mother-in-law — you think her dignified ? Why 
 you must be laughing at both her and us.” 
 
 “ So dignified do I think her, that in my opinion she is a marvel- 
 lous type of one of those old women of provincial nobility about 
 whom Mademoiselle de Maran was always talking to us, don’t you 
 remember ? — who used to live at their country seats without ever 
 visiting Paris or the court.” 
 
 Ursula looked at me with astonishment, she thought I was joking, 
 but I was quite sincere in what I said. Nothing is more imposing 
 than old age when it is simple, sedate and venerable, and possesses 
 the consciousness of its own authority. We now sate down to 
 table. 
 
 “ Mamma — the keys for the wine,” said M. Secherin to his 
 mother. 
 
 Ursula again blushed with confusion, and annoyance, while her 
 mother-in-law slowly drew from her pocket an immense bunch of 
 keys which she gave to one of the country serving girls. 
 
 M. Secherin said grace and we began supper. 
 
 The repast was an excellent, almost a delicate one, served up 
 without the slightest pretensions, but with the most scrupulous 
 cleanness. 
 
 “ Cousin, you must taste some of mamma’s pastry,” said M. 
 Secherin, offering me some from a dish which stood before him. 
 “ you will see how good it is, there is nobody like mamma for 
 making those tarts. My only misfortune is that Bellotte will not 
 learn to make them, but the fact is my little wife don’t take at all 
 kindly to the pastry line.” 
 
 “ She is very wrong there, my cousin, for she is derogating from 
 one of our family celebrities,” I replied to him as seriously as 
 possible. 
 
 “ Pooh, pooh ! how do you make that out, cousin ?” 
 
 “ Why Ursula,” I said to my cousin, “ don’t you remember that 
 Mademoiselle de Maran always told us our great aunt de Surgy, 
 and the Countess of Brionne (a princess of the Lorraine family, you 
 will please to remark, M. Secherin) had quite a mania for making 
 milk curds au jasmin, and tartlets a la gelee deranges, and Louis 
 the Fifteenth, added my aunt, was perfectly delighted when those 
 ladies consented to let him taste their culinary 'performances. 
 Once more, don’t you remember that V 
 
 “Yes, yes,” said Ursula, “I had forgotten it. 
 
 “ Tartlets a la gelee d oranges ! they must be excellent,” said 
 Madame Secherin,” and I shall try my hand at them.” 
 
336 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “Well, Bellotte, does not that decide you? Surely if a princess 
 of Lorraine made tartlets, you might do so.” 
 
 “Excuse me — I have no taste for those sorts of amusements,” 
 said Ursula, “and besides I have not the honour of belonging to 
 the family of Lorraine.” 
 
 “ But mamma does not belong to the family of Lorraine either, 
 and that does not prevent her making cakes — so surely you might.” 
 I had pity upon Ursula’s impatience, and interrupted her 
 hnsband by asking him if he were satisfied with his manufactory. 
 He was enchanted at that question, and entered into all kinds of 
 details which really interested me very much. There is always a 
 curious and instructive side to be sought for, and found in men 
 who are devoted to one special pursuit. Once in the midst of 
 ideas relative to facts with which he was marvellously well 
 acquainted, M. Secherin expressed himself with facility, justice, and, 
 if not eloquence — at least with soul and energy. I remember asking 
 him if he employed many children in his manufactory. 
 
 “ I employ all I can get hold of,” he replied, with a smile, “ and 
 when I have once got them I don’t let them get away again. 
 1 take care that the parents shall sign a good safe bond, and they 
 are thus compelled to leave them with me as long as possible.” 
 
 “ What advantage then do you find in employing children ?” 
 
 “ What advantage cousin ? why that of preventing their parents who 
 are often selfish and harsh from overworking the poor little wretches. 
 In my factory they only do what they are able, learn a good trade, 
 and become honest and industrious, always having good examples 
 before their eyes, for I never keep worthless persons in my estab- 
 lishments they are a cause of considerable expense certainly, because, 
 the poor children cost me more than they bring me in ; but that 
 don’t signify, it is a luxury of mine — and when I see them happy, 
 robust and working gaily, upon my word, cousin, I perceive that, 
 after all, I have put my money out to famous interest.” 
 
 “I admire your tender feelings upon this subject, so much the 
 more, my good cousin because I have heard it said that several of 
 your fellow manufacturers — ” 
 
 “ Destroyed children by over working them ?” exclaimed M. 
 Secherin with indignation, “the scoundrels! I’ll tell you what 
 cousin, that puts me in mind of a circumstance which I never 
 mentioned to my wife or to mamma, for it was not worth while, 
 and it would have given me the reputation of a quarrelsome fellow, 
 but since we are upon this subject I will tell it all to you. One 
 day, at the time of my marriage, I went to inspect a manufactory 
 at Paris, what did I see ? poor, emaciated, sickly children working 
 more laboriously than men, and for what a salary good God ? — 
 scarcely enough to buy bread with — upon my soul I was so disgusted 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 337 
 
 that I made no more ado, but said to the master of the establish- 
 ment who was shewing me over it. 1 How can you have the courage 
 to kill these poor little wretches bit by bit, as you certainly are 
 doing, sir V The man replied that I was meddling in what did not 
 concern me, and that he had no need of my observations. I 
 answered that it was my business, that I was a manufacturer also, 
 and that the cruel greediness of fellows like him was sufficient to 
 cast a stigma upon an honourable profession. He told me to go to 
 the devil, I told him to do the same ; I am naturally as gentle as 
 a lamb, cousin, but when people get my blood up, I cannot answer 
 for myself, in short, I don’t know how it happened, but we got to 
 abusing one another in fine style, my hand is rather too hasty a one, 
 the other fellow had served in the army, so the next day we fought. 
 I had never touched a pistol, but I am a tolerable shot at game. 
 To end the story, I sent a bullet into the calf of his right leg, for 
 he turned his toes out like a dancing master.” 
 
 “ My son ! my son ! did you really fight T exclaimed Madame 
 S6cherin, who had listened to this simple narrative with all the 
 marks of a profound anxiety, and she clasped her hands together 
 with a feeling of terror. 
 
 “ There, I knew it would be so, mamma is going to grumble at 
 me now,” whispered M. Secherin to me. 
 
 Then getting up and going to her, he said in an accent 
 full of a respectful tenderness. 
 
 “ Well, well, mamma, I was wrong, it was a hot-headed stripling’s 
 trick — I never said anything to you about it because it would 
 have made you very uneasy.” 
 
 “ My child ! my poor child !” said Madame Sdcherin, embracing 
 her son with emotion, “ how you hurt me !” 
 
 “ But, God bless my soul, mamma, it is all over now.” 
 
 “ Your birth also is over, and every day of my life I thank the 
 Lord for having given me a good son,” said Madame Secherin with 
 a touching simplicity, and wiping her tears. 
 
 This scene (which proved to me that Ursula’s husband was, when 
 occasion offered, as courageous and energetic as honourable and 
 devoted) was interrupted by one of the two servant girls who gave 
 a letter to M. Secherin. 
 
 “ This is from Chopinelle, my dear,” he said to Ursula. “ He is 
 probably unable to come and play his usual game to-night.” 
 
 M. Secherin broke the seal and read the letter. 
 
 “ Is that from one of your neighbours ?” I asked Ursula. 
 
 “ It is from our sous-prefet ,” she replied with a blush. 
 
 Surprised at seeing her blush I looked at her attentively, not 
 in order to embarrass her, but by a mere mechanical movement : 
 to my great astonishment, however, Ursula became crimson. 
 
 “It is from him,” replied M. Secherin, “ he cannot come this 
 z 
 
338 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 evening, he has some circulars to write, for there is a talk of fresh 
 elections. Chopinelle is a delightful fellow : and devilish good 
 looking ! He is always well dressed if you like, shaves every day, 
 and wears gloves. Did you never meet Chopinelle in society, 
 cousin ?” 
 
 “ I think not,” I replied with a smile, “ I do not know the 
 name.” 
 
 “ And yet he goes into all the tip top circles when he is at Paris, 
 doesn’t he my dear ? He dines with the ministers, and is quite 
 the pet of the noble faubourg — as he always calls it — ain’t he 
 Bellotte ?” 
 
 “ I think M. Chopinelle is a bragger,” said Ursula drily. 
 
 “ Dear me how drolly you say that, you too who always get 
 angry when he is contradicted and who listen to him as if he were 
 an oracle !” 
 
 “ I think M. Chopinelle is a liar,” said Madame Secherin in a 
 somewhat severe accent. 
 
 “ Take care, mamma, or you will bring upon yourself a nice 
 quarrel with Ursula if you abuse her compatriot, for Chopinelle is 
 a Parisian, like her, and moreover her privileged partner in the 
 waltz, and very useful in singing duets with her : for Chopinelle 
 has a superb voice, hasn’t he Bellotte ? a voice as sonorous as the 
 pipe of an organ. You must let our cousin hear you two sing that 
 pretty duet — you know which I mean — that one which you prac- 
 tised so long — that duet out of some Italian opera and which 
 ends in — i.” 
 
 Ursula, wishing doubtless to interrupt a conversation which was 
 disagreeable to her, said to her mother-in-law, 
 
 “ My cousin is fatigued after her journey — She has need of 
 rest.” 
 
 “ True, daughter-in-law. Pardon me, madame,” added Madame 
 Secherin, turning towards me. “ Say the second grace, my son.” 
 
 When grace had been said we returned to the drawing-room. 
 
 I wished my hosts good night, and went up stairs to my own 
 room with Ursula. 
 
 “ To-morrow morning I will come and call you, and we will have 
 a chat together,” she said to me with air of embarrassment. “ To- 
 night you must be tired, so go to sleep.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 The next morning when I awoke I wrote a long letter to Gontran 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 339 
 
 to implore him to join me at Rouvray as soon as possible. My 
 husband would find this letter at Paris on his return from London, 
 it was possible therefore that I might see him in a week’s time. It 
 was the first time I had written to Gontran, and I felt an infinite 
 delight in that charming occupation, I had so much to tell him. 
 Every instant I was on the point of relating everything to him, 
 but I remembered M. de Mortagne’s counsels and resigned myself 
 to silence. 
 
 When I had finished my letter I waited with some impatience 
 for Ursula. 
 
 All the memories of my childish days and of my girlhood had 
 been aroused, the sorrows I had experienced had developed and 
 matured my judgment. It was with sincere grief that I saw my 
 cousin do injustice to the solid and excellent qualities of her hus- 
 band. Exaggerated as was the melancholy which Ursula used to 
 affect in former days, I preferred even that exaggeration to the 
 dry, decided, almost contemptuous tone which she seemed to me 
 to have adopted, with regard to her mother-in-law and M. Secherin. 
 When I reflected more deeply upon this point, I found excuses for 
 Ursula ; she was isolated, with no one to advise her, and once en- 
 tangled in a mistaken path she was sure to lose herself more and 
 more every day, for the want of a salutary and friendly warning. 
 Several times I thought of my cousin’s blushes and embarrassment 
 when her husband mentioned that M. Chopinelle. In her isolation 
 perhaps Ursula had shewn herself somewhat coquettish towards 
 that man. I determined to speak to her with the utmost frank- 
 ness on the subject, and to implore her not to expose herself to 
 any painful domestic dissensions for so miserable an object, 
 
 Madame Secherin appeared to me a very sensible, firm, and ob- 
 servant woman. She evidently possessed more influence over her 
 son than even perhaps Ursula herself, and I fancied that she was 
 cherishing some secret grudge against the latter, and that she was 
 only restraining herself till a convenient opportunity offered itself 
 for an explosion. Persons of that disposition, who are ordinarily, 
 prudent, calm, determined, endowed with a penetrating mind, a 
 simple and honourable heart, and an austere piety, are incapable of 
 mincing matters or compromising them ; their religious impartiality 
 makes it their duty to wait for proofs with unconquerable patience, 
 but when they are once satisfied of the truth and justice of their 
 views, they become insensible to pity. 
 
 Ursula entered my apartment. 
 
 After a few trivial observations, I said to her — 
 
 “ I am going to scold you, sister. You are not reasonable, you 
 promised me to educate your husband, if I may use the expression, 
 and to polish him a little ; with a few obliging and tender words, you 
 could do anything with him. For I am sure, that I myself who 
 z 3 
 
340 
 
 THE OKI* HAN. 
 
 have no influence over him shall metamorphose him in a few days, 
 much to his advantage.” 
 
 “ You are a good hand at miracles. Have you not bewitched 
 my mother-in-law i My husband told me this morning that she 
 was in raptures with you.” 
 
 “ if I admit this triumph of mine, you will confess that it is far 
 from difficult to make oneself beloved ?” 
 
 “ Not difficult certainly, my dear Matilda, but a great bore. I 
 do not feel any need of Madame Secherin’s affection.” 
 
 “ Listen, Ursula, you have formed, believe me, an erroneous 
 opinion of your mother-in-law’s character and disposition.” 
 
 “ You found out first her aristocratic look, and now I suppose 
 you are going to discover that she is a genius,” said Ursula with 
 an ironical smile. 
 
 “ A genius ? no — but a woman of great penetration. She is 
 continually on the watch.” 
 
 “ What can she be watching ? I do not fear her.” 
 
 “ I do not think you do — yet why do you not treat her with 
 consideration V’ 
 
 “ What would be the use of that ? I should like to see you, 
 my poor Matilda, in my place !” 
 
 “ In your place I should amuse myself above all things.” 
 
 “ Here ?” 
 
 “Here.” 
 
 “ And how ?” 
 
 “ I v ill tell you how — in making myself beloved, in trying my 
 power in performing miracles ; in changing your husband almost 
 into a man of elegance ; and in bringing your mother-in-law to 
 anticipate even, all the improvements that would be desirable in 
 this house which you detest so much.” 
 
 “ It is impossible : you have no idea of Madame Secherin’s 
 obstinacy, and my husband’s horror of any restraint or interference 
 with his habits.” 
 
 “ Try at all events. How have I managed since yesterday to 
 become such a favourite with her V 
 
 “ Oh ! you are so fascinating, you know how to please and how 
 to conceal disagreeable impressions. As for me I cannot dissemble, 
 I carry my frankness to a fault. F or some months I was in a state 
 of profound melancholy and sadness ; but my despair was worn out 
 by force of tears. Now I have become hardened, I have suffered 
 so much ! My heart is insensible even to sorrow, I mock, I despise, 
 and I like that better.” 
 
 Since the beginning of our conversation Ursula’s accent had been 
 nervous, abrupt and harsh. 
 
 “ Sister,” I said to her, “ you are not in your natural state, you 
 are concealing some sorrow from me.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 341 
 
 “ None, I swear to you, I have made up my mind ; when we 
 have acquired fortune enough to allow us to live at Paris I will go 
 there : till then I shall li ve mechanically, flying from the dreams 
 of my girlhood when they sometimes will rise before my eyes, in 
 spite of myself — for those cherished memories bring back to me, 
 too much, your image, and our days of happiness. Ah ! Matilda ! 
 Matilda ! you have spoiled me for existence,” added Ursula. 
 
 After a silence of some duration, she burst into tears as if she 
 were suddenly giving way to an emotion which she had restrained 
 till then. 
 
 “ Oh 1 I was certain,” I exclaimed, “ that my friend, my sister 
 was concealing something from me, that those short and bitter 
 words of hers came from her lips and not from her heart !” 
 
 u Well then ! yes — yes, forgive me. Yesterday, after the first 
 joyful emotion caused me by your arrival, I was seized by an evil 
 sentiment, I became ashamed of everything that surrounded me, 
 I became ashamed of my habitual melancholy, I was afraid of 
 appearing ridiculous in your eyes with my eternal tears ; I deter- 
 mined to be resolute — heedless — ironical — but 1 cannot support 
 that part of falsity and dissimulation — I cannot lie to you, and in 
 your presence. Your poor Ursula feels to-day as deeply, more 
 deeply perhaps than before, the miseries of the moral mesalliance 
 which she has contracted. Yesterday — this morning — when I 
 
 complained of the melancholy of this habitation I was speaking 
 falsely — I was speaking falsely when I lamented its want of elegance. 
 What matters it to me in what frame my life may be set, when 
 that life itself is for ever withered ? Ah ! Matilda, with a heart 
 which understood me, the most hard, the most miserable existence 
 would have been enchanting.” 
 
 “ Poor Ursula, I love you better so, I love your tears better than 
 your cold and ironical smile. And yet, tell me, your husband seems 
 to anticipate the least wish you form. Although he is already rich 
 he continues to labour on unremittingly that he may some day 
 satisfy your taste for opulence.” 
 
 “ You are alluding, are you not, Matilda, to that fortune which 
 I have commanded him to acquire, in order to go and lead a 
 brilliant existence at Paris ?” said Ursula with a bitter smile, 
 “ you think me very selfish, very covetous, very vain, do you 
 
 notr 
 
 “ Ursula, you are mad ! I do not say that.” 
 
 “ No, no, it is true, pardon me Matilda. But I should grieve 
 indeed if you suspected that I were capable of that disgraceful 
 avidity for money. Listen to me then. When I arrived here 
 my husband talked of giving up his manufactory, of living in 
 leisure, and of devoting every instant to me. Shall I confess it 
 to you, Matilda? I was terrified, more, perhaps, on his account 
 
342 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 than my own, at that unoccupied existence which he offered to 
 share with me. Our tastes are so different — there is so little 
 sympathy between us — and then I knew it would cost him much 
 to give up occupations so interesting, and habits of activity which 
 to him were a second nature, on which his very health almost 
 depended. I should have recompensed so great a sacrifice so un- 
 worthily, that I would not accept it. In order therefore to render 
 my refusal less painful to his self love, in order not to say to him 
 ‘ That leisure which you wish to devote to me, would to me be 
 indifferent or painful,’ it was necessary that I should find out some 
 pretext. I then found myself forced to feign a sort of inordinate 
 covetousness and vanity, and I told him that instead of giving up 
 business, he would, on the contrary, give me much pleasure by 
 continuing his avocations till he had acquired a fortune sufficiently 
 considerable to allow us to lead a brilliant life at Paris. A fortune ! 
 a brilliant life ! Matilda ! Matilda ! you know me, you know the 
 value I set upon luxury and splendour, and even were my husband 
 to realize the fortune he dreams of, alas ! 1 feel that I should not 
 live to enjoy it — my life is wasting away slowly and secretly, oh my 
 sister !” 
 
 Ursula, as she uttered these last words, let her head fall mourn- 
 fully upon her breast, she seemed overpowered by some immense 
 sorrow. The melancholy expression of her countenance, the lan- 
 guor of her half veiled glance, were in such accordance with her 
 gloomy words that I own I believed blindly all she said. She 
 found a way to make it appear that she was still sacrificing herself 
 to her husband even while she was compelling him to labour un- 
 remittingly in order to increase a fortune that was already con- 
 siderable. I carried my blindness so far as to become uneasy at 
 Ursula’s sinister presentiments, and I combated them vehemently. 
 
 “ But after all,” I said to her, “ why do you picture to yourself 
 so gloomy a futurity 1 why renounce all hope ?” 
 
 Ursula took my two hands, fixed her blue eyes, which were 
 bathed in tears, upon my face and murmured in a voice of painful 
 emotion. 
 
 “ You talk of hope, sister — alas ! as I wrote to you the day 
 after that fatal union my hope is a poor, obscure place in the village 
 cemetery : my futurity is eternity .” 
 
 And Ursula leant her head upon my shoulder and wept. 
 
 ******* 
 
 By degrees she became more calm. 
 
 Our conversation had assumed such a character that I did not 
 see any possible transition by which I could ask her if she had in- 
 dulged in any trifling coquetry with M. Chopinelle. 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 343 
 
 Knowing my cousin’s enthusiasm and the unoccupied condition 
 of her heart, I feared the dangers of solitude on her account, I 
 believed it to be useful, nay urgent, that I should impart my fears 
 to her, so I did not hesitate. 
 
 “ Tell me, Ursula, do you see much society ?” I asked her. 
 
 “ Some relations of my husband’s and some Rouvray merchants 
 with whom he transacts business.” 
 
 “ But you have no very intimate acquaintance ?” 
 
 11 Yes, one or two old friends of my mother-in-law’s, sometimes 
 the substitut of the procureur du roi, and also our sous-prefet” 
 
 “ That Monsieur Chopinelle ?” 
 
 “ Precisely, he who wrote to my husband yesterday you know.” 
 
 Ursula pronounced these words in so natural a manner, with so 
 little embarrassment, that I believed my suspicions to be without 
 foundation. 
 
 “ And you sing duets with him. Does he sing well T’ 
 
 “ Execrably, and always out of tune. Unluckily M. Secherin 
 is very intimate with him, and I have been obliged, out of polite- 
 ness, to undergo I do not know how many duets, and repetitions of 
 duets with him. Ah ! Matilda,” added Ursula with a melancholy 
 shake of the head, ‘ do you remember what we used to say 1 
 1 Music when spoken by two is a divine and sacred language 
 which must not be profaned.’ And oh ! how much have I suffered 
 in being compelled to sing with that man, I who thought as you 
 did that 1 it is only with a person tenderly beloved one can par- 
 take of those impulses of the soul, those passionate accents which 
 singing only can do justice to !’ ” 
 
 Effectively I remembered that in the plenitude of our admiration 
 for music we could not understand how one could have the courage 
 or ability to sing a passionate duet with any person but one whom 
 one loved. Ursula’s last words destroyed all my doubts about her 
 coquetry, and I was bold enough to say to her with a smile. 
 
 “ You will laugh at me finely. Only conceive my having taken a 
 fancy into my head that you were engaged in a flirtation with that 
 sous-prefet of yours !” 
 
 Ursula in spite of the tears which were still trembling at the 
 ends of her long eyelashes, burst into so frank, unaffected and hearty 
 a fit of laughter that I was put quite out of countenance. 
 
 “ M. Chopinelle l” she exclaimed in the midst of her peals of 
 laughter — good God, what a singular idea ! You do not know what 
 M. Chopinelle is, you will see him. God bless me, God bless me — 
 fancy my being engaged in a flirtation with M. Chopinelle ! ! !” 
 
 Laughter is contagious, and in spite of myself I partook in my 
 cousin’s merriment. 
 
 When this ebullition of gaiety had become quite calmed, Ursula, 
 
344 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 with one of those sudden changes of impression, which were one of 
 her greatest fascinations, said to me in a melancholy voice. 
 
 “Alas ! Matilda, one cause of my desparing sorrow is, believe 
 me, because I feel that my heart is dead — dead for ever. That poor 
 heart has been so grievously crushed by long and suppressed suffer- 
 ing, that now it scarcely beats at all, and your friendship — your 
 friendship alone — causes the few faint pulsations which still remain. 
 And then, my sister — ” added Ursula with a touching dignity — 
 “though doubtless my husband is deficient in all those qualities 
 which inspire, nay command passion — that dream of woman’s life — 
 still he is good, honourable and devoted, and, believe me, Matilda, it 
 would be as impossible for me to outrage as love him.” 
 
 “ Well, said my Ursula, there I recognize your own heart.” I ex- 
 claimed, pressing her hand. 
 
 “ And then,” she continued with a smile of such heartrending ex- 
 pression that it brought tears into my eyes. “ I am like poor 
 children who are in pain. I find a species of sweet consolation in 
 being pitied — and how should I ever dare to complain were I guilty T 
 
 I was doubtless thoroughly prejudiced in Ursula’s favour, but 
 would not the most distrustful, the most suspicious disposition have 
 been disarmed, as I was, by the appearance of so ingenuous a 
 simplicity 1 Gay raillery, sensibility, delicacy, dignity — Ursula had 
 employed all to convince me, and I was convinced. Now, when I 
 am better informed, I still remain confounded, I could almost dare 
 to say with admiration (for there are things beautiful even in their 
 horror) at reflecting with what profound artfulness that woman knew 
 how to make every string of the heart vibrate in its turn, with what 
 dexterity, what suppleness she passed from tears to smiles, from 
 candour to dignity, from pride to tenderness in order to make you 
 believe a falsehood. Attacking everything, your mind, your heart, 
 your vices, your virtues, your sympathies, your hatreds, she did not 
 leave one single fibre of your intelligence, and your soul without hav- 
 ing probed it to the quick. 
 
 ******** 
 
 * * 
 
 About three o’clock, while M. Secherin was engaged at his factory, 
 Madame Secherin enjoyed her usual siesta, and I was sitting in 
 the drawing-room with Ursula, M. Chopinelle made his appearance. 
 
 M. Chopinelle was a young man ; dark, with a full, ruddy coun- 
 tenance and black whiskers ; his coarse, robust figure was ungraceful, 
 his feet and hands enormous ; his features, which were tolerably 
 regular, though common in their expression, would probably entitle 
 him among provincials to the reputation of being good looking. On 
 account probably of the season of the year he wore a straw hat, and 
 a cravat a la- Colin ; a green barracan coat with metal buttons, blue 
 

THE ORPHAN. 
 
 345 
 
 striped trousers, and grey buckskin shoes, completed this Arcadian 
 costume. At the first sight of this vulgar personage I felt com- 
 pletely re-assured as to the tranquillity of Ursula’s heart. I will add — 
 adopting for once a little of Mademoiselle de Maran’s wit and 
 language — that M. Chopinelle to his sweet William exterior united 
 a delectable and bridling kind of self-complacency slightly kept in 
 check by a would-be official reserve and haughtiness, which gave 
 you altogether a complete idea of foolish conceit, and vulgar in- 
 capacity. 
 
 I exchanged a malicious smile with my cousin, who replied with a 
 cold bow to M. Chopinelle’s noisy and familiar salutations. He 
 appeared to me to enter the drawing-groom like a conquering hero, 
 0£ an intimate friend impatiently expected. He seemed quite taken 
 aback at Ursula’s freezing reception. M. Chopinelle, suddenly ap- 
 peared to reflect, and doubtless became conscious that his victorious 
 airs were miserably out of place in the presence of a stranger. He 
 smiled with an air of assurance, and his look seemed to say to 
 Ursula, “ Do not be uneasy, fear nothing, I will take care not to 
 compromise you, and to keep our intelligence perfectly concealed.” 
 
 I was disgusted at this insolent and ridiculous presumption ; for 
 at that time I did not for a moment suppose that my cousin’s con- 
 duct had in any respect authorized M. Chopinelle’s impertinent 
 affectation. 
 
 “ What is the news at Rouvray, Monsieur Chopinelle ?” said 
 Ursula to him, continuing to work at her frame. 
 
 “Nothing very important, madame, except in an official point of 
 view — ” and he added in a consequential and mysterious tone — 
 “ People talk of a dissolution. My correspondence has taken up my 
 time so thoroughly that I was unable to come yesterday for a game 
 with our gros Tourangeau. It can’t be helped, official men must 
 think of business before politeness.” 
 
 I looked at Ursula, who shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 Those words — “our gros Tourangeau,'' were doubtless intended to 
 refer to her husband. I was disgusted at this raillery. 
 
 M. Chopinelle continued — 
 
 “ You may be sure, madame, that my regret was not confined to 
 that,” he added with a gracious bow to Ursula, “ but the state must 
 have precedence of every thing else.” 
 
 “ M. Chopinelle, my dear, our sous-prefet said Ursula to me, 
 indicating M. Chopinelle by an inclination of her head. 
 
 I bowed slightly. 
 
 “ Has madame just arrived from the capital V' 
 
 “I have, sir.” 
 
 “ Madame will find the province very dull, very tiresome, very 
 stupid ! To us Parisians it is quite a Siberia, an exile — one might 
 as well go to the antipodes at once — you have no idea, madame, of 
 
346 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 the figures one sees in my arrondissement, and of the life one leads 
 here, upon my honour one might fancy oneself among the Hurons 
 — or worse. Fortunately Madame Secherin has been cast, like my- 
 self, upon this outlandish place, and if you, madame, remain here 
 for any time, we will get up a little Parisian colony in the midst of 
 these Touraine savages. Madame is musical no doubt U M. 
 Chopinelle inquired of me. 
 
 Luckily he took upon himself to answer for me, and added — 
 
 “ I have not the least doubt of it. I would bet that madame has 
 a charming voice ; we will transport the country of the arts hither. 
 Madame Secherin’s musical abilities are enchanting — of course I mean 
 Madame Secherin junior, for her mother-in-law never knew how to 
 sing anything but the mass ha ! ha ! ha !” 
 
 M. Chopinelle looked at me quite proud of his impertinent obser- 
 vation. 
 
 He perceived that it was not to my taste, and turned towards 
 Ursula. 
 
 “ Monsieur,” she drily replied, “ I think your observation on my 
 husband’s mother is in extremely bad taste.” 
 
 M. Chopinelle was still more astonished. 
 
 “You must be angry with me about something, to receive me in 
 this manner. One would say I was a stranger to you,” he observed 
 with a certain annoyance. 
 
 “ Really, Monsieur, I do not know what you mean. Let us talk 
 if you like about the new road which you are always promising us,” 
 replied Ursula with the greatest coolness. 
 
 M. Chopinelle seemed excessively offended, and wishing doubtless 
 to justify the familiar language which he affected towards my cousin, 
 he forgot himself so far as to say. 
 
 “ I do not know if it is the presence of Madame which intimidates 
 you so much, but you must acknowledge that in general, Madame, 
 you treat me with much less ceremony ! I am no longer the friend 
 of the family then 't very well — very well — I give you notice I shall 
 complain to my dear Secherin.” 
 
 Had not my confidence in Ursula been foolishly blind, the bad 
 humour of this excessively ill-educated personage, would have given 
 me a good deal to think about. But I only saw in M. Chopinelle 
 a ridiculous coxcomb, who wished in my presence to abuse that 
 appearance of intimacy which is authorised by a country life, in 
 order to make me believe that Ursula took some interest in him. 
 It is to give an idea of this man’s absurdity that I have mentioned a 
 few sentences of his conversation, which was a wearisome medley 
 of common-places, and insupportable pretensions. I never under- 
 stood the pleasure of amusing oneself with fools, their vulgarity and 
 silliness are disgusting to me, and affect me quite as painfully as 
 the sight of a physical infirmity. The coldness and disgust which 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 347 
 
 1 could not help displaying towards M. Chopinelle singularly 
 abridged his visit. When he was gone, Ursula asked me, with a 
 burst of laughter, if I still thought she was interested in this sous- 
 'prefet ; if it was possible to meet with a more thoroughly absurd 
 personage ; and if I was not ashamed of my suspicions on the 
 subject ? 
 
 “ I shared Ursula’s gaiety, and did not retain the slightest doubt 
 of her sincerity. M. Chopinelle did not make his appearance again 
 for some days to M, S6cherin’s great surprise, who overwhelmed his 
 wife with questions, to which she replied with impatience. Com- 
 pletely re-assured as to Ursula’s coquetry, I made another discovery 
 in the course of a few days, which delighted me much more. In 
 my presence my cousin’s manner towards her husband was cold, 
 indifferent, sometimes contemptuous, yet M. Secherin did not seem 
 to remark it, he appeared the happiest man in the world, and, to 
 Ursula’s great annoyance, was continually making allusions to a 
 thousand circumstances which proved that they were on the best 
 possible terms together, and that his wife was full of attentions 
 towards him. Several times M. Secherin said to Ursula, with a 
 laugh and a shrug of his shoulders — “ It is only because our cousin 
 is here that you do not choose to seem fond of me.” 
 
 Effectively, after having long asked myself why my cousin dis- 
 sembled a conduct which was so much in conformity with the 
 advice which I had given her, I became convinced that it was in 
 order still to retain the right of calling herself the least understood , 
 the most unfortunate of women, and that she might be able to 
 lament to me ovir the moral mesalliance to which she had been 
 sacrificed. This persuasion made me much more easy as to Ursula’s 
 destiny. 
 
 For the first time I perceived a kind of melancholy monomania 
 in the exaggerated sadness which she had affected during our first 
 interview on my arrival at Eouvray. I did not accuse my cousin 
 of falsehood, I almost pitied her for being ashamed of her own 
 happiness, and for not having the courage to avow that when she 
 had once discovered the noble and generous qualities of her hus- 
 band, she had wisely made up her mind to put up patiently with 
 some of his vulgarities. Once assured that her sufferings were 
 but pretended, as it were a kind of coquetting with affliction, I 
 had not the courage to thwart Ursula upon that subject. In my 
 belief, and in my eyes she was perfectly happy, the rest was a 
 matter of indifference to me. 
 
 I was far from regretting the tears which I had bestowed upon 
 her supposed sorrows. I could scarcely, however, forbear smiling 
 when I thought that the crowning act of Ursula’s happiness was 
 to represent herself as the most miserable creature living. The 
 
348 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 longer I observed, the more clearly I perceived that her influence 
 over her husband was immense ; and I sometimes even doubted 
 whether it were equalled by that of Madame Secherin. 
 
 The latter still persevered in that constrained coldness towards 
 Ursula, which often appeared to hurt her son’s feelings. About a week 
 or ten days after the scene which I have related, M. Chopinelle 
 came to dine at Rouvray. He excused himself for his late absence 
 on the score of numerous business engagements, and M. Secherin 
 received him with the utmost good humour and cordiality. After 
 supper, instead of playing, as usual, at piquet with her son, Madame 
 Secherin sate down to her spinning wheel. My cousin went out to 
 give some directions at his factory. 
 
 The windows were open, and it was a magnificent night. Ursula 
 and M. Chopinelle were seated in conversation upon a couch placed 
 behind Madame Secherin’s chair, whose attention was completely 
 taken up with her spinning wheel. 
 
 A shaded lamp kept the drawing-room in a demi- obscurity. I 
 went and sate down by one of the windows. The sky was clear, 
 the stars brilliant, and I fell into a profound reverie. 
 
 I know not how long I had been absorbed in these reflections, 
 when, as I mechanically turned my head, I saw M. Chopinelle, 
 who was sitting close to Ursula, give her a letter which she hastily 
 secured in the pocket of the little apron which she had on. I was 
 almost completely concealed in the recess of the window, and my 
 cousin being unable to see me, doubtless thought that I was 
 equally incapable of perceiving her. 
 
 I could scarcely believe my eyes. 
 
 At that instant Madame Secherin interrupted the measured 
 movement of her spinning wheel, and in the most natural manner 
 possible, said to Ursula, half turning round as she spoke — 
 
 “ Will you be kind enough, daughter-in-law, to come here and 
 assist me to unwind this skein T 
 
 Ursula rose and approached her mother-in law. I can see the 
 whole scene at this very minute. 
 
 Ursula wore a dress of white muslin with red stripes, and an 
 apron of sky blue silk trimmed with black lace ; she stood before 
 Madame Secherin and held up the skein of flax in her two raised 
 hands. Thinking, no doubt, the employment given her by her 
 mother-in-law, a tiresome one, she gently struck the floor every 
 now and then with the end of her pretty foot. 
 
 Suddenly, with a movement quicker than thought, Madame 
 Secherin thrust her hand into Ursula’s apron and seized M. Chop- 
 nelle’s letter. 
 
 “ With traitors one must use treachery !” she exclaimed in a 
 menacing voice. “ I saw everything in that glass !’ 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 349 
 
 And she pointed to a glass which was placed opposite to her, 
 and which effectively must have reflected all that had just taken 
 place behind her chair. 
 
 “ Madame !” said Ursula, turning pale. 
 
 “ I have been watching for a long time,” replied Madame 
 Secherin. “ My son shall know everything.” 
 
 o — — 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 a night’s reflections. 
 
 This scene had passed with such rapidity that I had scarcely time 
 to approach Madame Secherin, and to say to her, 
 
 “ For God’s sake, madame, speak lower, you may be heard, your 
 son may enter the room any minute !” 
 
 “ I wish he were arrived,” replied that inflexible woman. 
 
 M. Chopinella was standing by Ursula, and so completely thunder- 
 struck that he could not utter a syllable, 
 
 “ Madame !” I exclaimed in my turn, “ my cousin is more im- 
 prudent than culpable.” 
 
 “ My poor son !” said Madame Secherin, without replying to me, 
 and gazing in sorrow on the letter which she had just surprised. 
 " And for this woman he is killing himself with labour ! and for 
 this woman he sometimes forgets his mother. But God is just ! 
 yes — yes — he is just, he does not permit the guilty to remain 
 unpunished.” 
 
 She rang the bell, which was answered by a servant girl. 
 
 “ Go and tell my son that I wish to speak to him this instant ; 
 he is at the factory,” said Madame Secherin. 
 
 The girl left the room to obey this order. I looked at Ursula, 
 her immoveable calmness confounded me. 
 
 “You will at last be treated as you deserve,” said Madame 
 Secherin, indignantly to her, and shewing her the letter, “ my son 
 shall know every thing.” 
 
 Ursula had completely recovered her coolness. She looked at 
 her mother-in-law with the most simple air of astonishment in the 
 world, and said to her. 
 
 “ Really, madame, I do not understand your reproaches, nor do I 
 know to what you allude in telling me that I shall be treated as I 
 deserve. I think that before you accuse me, you ought to open that 
 letter — if that letter it is which excites your anger — and make 
 yourself mistress of its contents.” 
 
 Madame Secherin hastily raised her head and gazed at my cousin 
 with an air of profound surprise. 
 
350 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, madame, nothing can be more simple. My 
 husband’s fete day will soon be here. I have given monsieur — ” and 
 she pointed to M. Chopinelle — “ a commission to execute with re- 
 spect to a little surprise which I am preparing for M. Secherin. In 
 case M. Chopinelle should not be able to converse with me alone 
 about this commission, and being desirous that it should remain a 
 secret, I had requested him to write me a line on the subject. There 
 you have the clue to all this wonderfully mysterious and important 
 affair madame. ” 
 
 This explanation removed an immense weight from my heart, and 
 I threw myself into Ursula’s arms. She had expressed herself in so 
 simple, so natural and so unaffected a manner, that I reproached my- 
 self bitterly for having suspected her. 
 
 I said to Madame Secherin, “ You see madame you are mistaken.” 
 
 Madame Secherin was astonished. She gazed fixedly at the letter 
 which she held in her hands and appeared unable to believe what 
 she heard. 
 
 What ! “ she said aloud to herself, “ can I have deceived myself 
 to such a degree as that ? So long too as I have been watching 
 them ? But no — no,” she continued hastily, and breaking open the 
 seal of the letter, “a mother’s heart cannot be mistaken. Why 
 should I feel so much aversion for that woman % I am not by dis- 
 position inclined to injustice or hatred. No — no — she must be 
 
 guilty ! she is guilty !” 
 
 She approached the lamp in order to read the letter, and looked 
 about for her spectacles. My cousin’s countenance remained im- 
 moveable. She said with a smile to M. Chopinelle. 
 
 “ W ell, Monsieur — there is an end of our surprise !” 
 
 The sous-prefet looked at my cousin with a stupified and be- 
 wildered air, then hastily seized his hat and hurried towards the 
 door. He met M. Secherin, who was just coming in. 
 
 The latter caught him by the arm, pulled him back, and said to 
 him with a laugh. 
 
 “ What are you off already, Chopinelle ? Are you mad ? What 
 is to become of my revenge at ecarte which you were to give me 2 
 Come, come, you don’t get away from me like that.” 
 
 “ There is my son at last — “ exclaimed Madame Secherin, who 
 was still holding the letter open without having yet glanced at its 
 contents, “ every thing will now be cleared up.” 
 
 M. Secherin had brought back M. Chopinelle with him, and still 
 held him by the arm, “ cleared up ? what is it, mamma ?” he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 “ Oh ! my love ! a most terrible adventure,” Ursula hastened to 
 exclaim with gaiety. “ Only fancy, M. Chopinelle gave me a letter 
 secretly just now — Yes — he really did — and in the most mysterious 
 manner possible, exactly as if it had been nothing more or less than 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 361 
 
 a declaration of love ! Now, do you know what this letter is about 1 
 Alas ! I must resign myself to inform you. It contains some direc- 
 tions relative to a surprise which I was preparing for you on your 
 fete day, and of which I had given the commission to M. Chopinelle ; 
 it being extremely probable that I should not have the opportunity 
 of conversing alone with Monsieur, I had requested him to write me 
 word what he might be unable to tell me himself personally, so that 
 no one might suspect anything about the business. Now unfor- 
 tunately, the whole thing has come out, and I shall not be able to 
 enjoy my surprise.” 
 
 “ Why, to be sure — yes — the day after to-morrow is the Saint- 
 Benoitf said M. Secherin. “ What, my dear, do you wish to pet 
 me so much as all that ? And fancy taking this good Chopinelle 
 here as an accomplice ! Ha ! ha ! Monsieur le sous-prefet you want 
 to league with my wife V ’ he added with a loud burst of laughter. 
 “ Ah ! you two are conspiring together to surprise me are you V’ 
 
 “ A surprise !” said Madame Secherin with a piercing glance at 
 Ursula, “ we shall soon see.” 
 
 She now unfolded the letter. 
 
 M. Chopinelle became fearfully pale — I shuddered, a frightful 
 presentiment told me that Ursula, with a presence of mind which 
 astounded me, and by the aid of an audacious falsehood, had merely 
 delayed a terrible exposure. 
 
 Seeing the emotion of the sous-prefet I was convinced that the 
 letter was one of love. I determined at all risks to attempt saving 
 Ursula for the last time, and I exclaimed, endeavoring to conceal 
 the tremor of my voice. 
 
 “You know, my dear cousin, that these sort of surprises are 
 sacred, and that they ought to be respected.” 
 
 “ Of course they ought ! so mamma, I entreat you do not read 
 that letter, and give it back to Ursula, so that she and her accomplice 
 may go on plotting all their little wickednesses together, and I will 
 make believe to know nothing about it all.” 
 
 “ Give me the letter, give me the letter, Madame !'* exclaimed M. 
 Chopinelle, extending his hand. 
 
 That hand trembled like a leaf. 
 
 I thought that everything was lost. 
 
 At that moment, Ursula, who had not taken her eyes off her 
 mother-in-law, and who had by degrees, and stealthily been ap- 
 proaching nearer and nearer towards her, seized the letter with a loud 
 laugh and exclaimed. 
 
 “ My good mamma, no one shall have the preference. Not even 
 you shall find out the surprise I am preparing.” 
 
 “ Bravo ! bravo ! off with you, my little wife, off with you !” ex- 
 claimed M. Secherin. 
 
 Ursula hurried out of the room. 
 
352 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Mechanically I followed, as well as M. Chopinelle, who, when we 
 were once fairly out of the drawing- room, exclaimed with an air of 
 bewilderment and wiping his forehead. 
 
 “ What self-command ! she has saved us. Ah ! what a woman ! 
 what a woman ! !” 
 
 As soon as we were alone my cousin tore up the letter and put 
 the pieces into the pocket of her apron. 
 
 “Ah ! Ursula !” I said to her in a reproachful tone. “I tremble 
 still ! what a terrible lesson ! God grant that it may be one that 
 will profit you !” 
 
 “ You may take credit to yourself for possessing famous presence 
 of mind. Without you everything would have been discovered. I 
 have scarcely a drop of blood in my veins — ” exclaimed M. Chopinelle, 
 with an air of consternation. “ Ah, Ursula — what a woman you 
 are !” 
 
 Had I been able to retain the slightest doubt, these last words of 
 M. Chopinelle’s, and his emotion would have sufficed to enlighten 
 me. 
 
 My cousin looked at us both with the greatest marks of astonish- 
 ment, burst into a laugh and said to me — 
 
 “ Come, come, between ourselves, my good Matilda, are you 
 speaking seriously ? what on earth can you mean by your terrible 
 lesson ? Why do you say that to me ? what connection have 
 these terrible words with an innocent surprise which was nearly 
 discovered ? one would think something very serious had happened. 
 You are not going to believe, like my mother-in-law, are you, that 
 there is a declaration of love in all this ?” she added with a peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 This sarcastic and impudent assurance terrified me, and made me 
 incapable of uttering a word. The sous-prefet no less sfupified than 
 myself, looked at me, and foolishly exclaimed. 
 
 “ It is astonishing — I can hardly believe my own ears. Ah ! 
 what a woman !” 
 
 Ursula laughed more loudly than ever, and said — 
 
 “ And you too M. Chopinelle ! you are disturbed — you are quita 
 pale — you are in ecstasies at my presence of mind, which, you say, 
 has prevented everything from being discovered. Really I am in 
 despair at the emotions I ' have caused you by entrusting you with 
 that poor little commission of mine. But do you know that you are 
 very foolish ?” she added with a contemptuous smile- — “but do you 
 know that your puzzled and bewildered look would have been 
 sufficient to give an appearance of probability to my mother-in-law’s 
 suspicions? For a future statesman, you have very little self-com- 
 mand, and in such a ridiculous business too. What would have 
 happened, I ask yourself, if it had been anything of serious im- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 353 
 
 portance T I have great doubts of your doing much in politics, my 
 poor Monsieur Chopinelle.” 
 
 “ What !” I exclaimed, in spite of myself, indignant at so much 
 audacity, “ if your husband had opened that letter ?” 
 
 “ He would have found out the present which I intended to give 
 him on his fete day : and our surprise would have been a failure — 
 that’s all.” 
 
 And Ursula looked fixedly at me without a blush. 
 
 Her features were as calm and cheerful as if she had spoken the 
 
 truth. 
 
 We were still remaining under the vestibule, and M. Secherin 
 now joined us as gay as usual. 
 
 Ursula exclaimed, as soon as she saw him — 
 
 “Your mother is very angry at my childishness, is she not 1 
 After all I certainly acted very wrong. Good God — now I think 
 of it — do you know that it seemed as if I feared you should read 
 that letter ! Now I am sure your mother represented it to you 
 in that light, and she would have been right, for appearances cer- 
 tainly were against me.” 
 
 “ Ha ! ha ! ha !” said M. Secherin with a loud laugh. “ Are 
 you cracked with your appearances ? On the contrary, to my 
 great astonishment, instead of being angry at your snatching the 
 letter out of her hands ; mamma looked intently at me without 
 saying a word, she then asked me to give her my arm, and she 
 withdrew into her own apartment, without being able to get a 
 syllable out of her.” 
 
 Ursula gave a melancholy shake of the head, and said — “ I 
 thought so, love, I was certaiu your mother would be angry with 
 me. How angry I am with myself for having acted in so incon- 
 siderate a manner. Oh ! I shall never forgive myself.” 
 
 And a tear glistened in Ursula’s eyes. 
 
 “ Come, come,” exclaimed her husband with emotion. “ You 
 will upset yourself, and make yourself quite ill about all that 
 nonsense. Don’t I tell you that mamma did not say a word ? 
 Come make yourself easy.” 
 
 It is exactly that : her silence accuses me : she is deeply offended, 
 and, at the very least, must have considered this foolish act 
 of mine as an improper proceeding on my part.” 
 
 M. Chopinelle had sneaked off while M. Secherin was consoling 
 Ursula. 
 
 Under the plea of a headache I went up stairs into my own 
 room. Ursula and her husband accompanied me as far as my door, 
 and then wished me good night. 
 
 I remained alone. 
 
 Ursula was guilty — I could not retain the least doubt on that 
 point. My heart was deeply grieved, and I had never experienced 
 
 A A 
 
354 
 
 THE ORPIIAK. 
 
 a greater degree of anguish. Ursula then had told me a lie ! a 
 lie throughout ! She was utterly false, her despairing melancholy, 
 her dreamy sadness, her pinings for the ideal, her scruples which 
 took alarm at all that was not of the most exquisite delicacy, were 
 — all and each of them — a mere mockery — a positive pretence. I 
 had compassionated her moral sufferings, and yet she did not really 
 suffer ; she had fallen, and fallen without even the excuse of passion 
 and the fascinations which might have been exercised by a man of 
 eminent qualities. She had sacrificed her duties to a ridiculous 
 man, of whom she even was ashamed, for she laughed at and dis- 
 avowed him with the most immoveable assurance. During that 
 scene, which might have been her ruin, her countenance had re- 
 mained calm and intrepid, and she had turned off the impending 
 storm with a coolness, a presence of mind, and an audacity which 
 terrified me. 
 
 I was grievously hurt by these discoveries. 
 
 Alas ! to my shame, I confess it, perhaps the bitterness which 
 accompanied the overthrow of my illusions was still more increased, 
 by the annoyance which one always feels at having been the dupe 
 of one’s own kind feelings. And yet, no — no — the more I recal 
 my recollections, the more assured I feel that my bitterest thought 
 was the regret of having lost a sister, the regret that she, in whom 
 I had reposed so many hopes, was no longer worthy of my friend- 
 ship. 
 
 My night was a sad and agitated one. 
 
 Next morning, when I was called, my maid told me that M. 
 Secherin had already been several times to know when I could 
 receive him, as he was extremely desirious of speaking to me. 
 This intelligence caused me considerable uneasiness, I dressed my- 
 self as quickly as possible, and sent for my cosuin. He soon made 
 his appearance, and I fancied he seemed sad and anxious. 
 
 u What have you to tell me, my dear cousin U 
 
 “ Something of great and serious importance, cousin. As you 
 are one of the family and my wife’s dearest friend, we ought to 
 have no secrets from you. Guess what has happened to me ? The 
 roof might as well have fallen upon my head. I should never have 
 imagined such a thing. But when old people once get anything 
 into their heads — ” 
 
 “ I do not understand you, cousin.” 
 
 “ Could you have conceived that mamma would be harsh and 
 unjust to my poor wife U he exclaimed. “ Well, that is the case. 
 Last night Ursula told me everything, crying her eyes out while 
 she did so, till my heart was almost broken. Would you believe 
 it h when I am not there mamma treats her most unjustly. She 
 is always grumbling at her and scolding her — and Ursula — poor, 
 meek, little lamb as she is — used to bear it all without complaining ! 
 The scene which took place yesterday made the cup overflow.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 355 
 
 “ The scene yesterday ?” 
 
 “ Yes, certainly, Ursula has told me everything. What most 
 hurt my wife was mamma's absurd suspicions about that letter of 
 Chopinelle’s, and well they might ! For, after all, as my wife said 
 to me last night, ‘ you may conceive, my darling, that while it 
 was merely about trifling matters I was able to hold my tongue, 
 but now that your honor and my own are suspected I cannot sub- 
 mit to be silent any longer towards you. It would be almost ac- 
 knowledging that your mother accuses me with justice.’ But this 
 is just the way,” exclaimed M. Secherin, “ mothers-in-law and 
 daughters-in-law are like fire and water, there is as much trouble 
 with them as when the devil goes to confession. I ought to have 
 expected this, and yet — no — for my poor wife never breathed a 
 word of the matter and gave way to mamma in everything. She 
 is so good — so very good !” 
 
 And he began to pace hurriedly up and down the room. 
 
 I saw that Ursula, in order to be beforehand with her mother- 
 in-law, had confessed all this to her husband, and employed the 
 influence she possessed to exculpate herself completely. Although 
 I was indignant at Ursula’s conduct and pained at her husband’s 
 blindness, I would not say a word which might arouse his suspicions, 
 but I endeavoured to calm the irritation which he seemed to ex- 
 perience against his mother. 
 
 “ It will all come right, my dear cousin,” I said to him. “ You 
 know a mother’s heart is always a little suspicious and jealous. 
 That is the foible of real affection.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, I am not angry with the good woman. Besides I 
 should only have to say to her — You pretend, mamma, that Chopi- 
 nelle has been courting my wife for the last three months, well 
 then, for those very three months, my wife has been more 
 affectionate to me than she ever was in her life. It is a fact, 
 cousin, you have no idea how Ursula has been petting and spoiling 
 me, particularly for the last three months — it is ‘ my great duck ’ 
 here, and ‘ my own darling’ there, for Ursula — to do her justice — 
 does, as your aunt told her, and keeps all those pretty little names 
 for the times when we are alone together. In short, I declare to 
 you, that I have never been more happy, gay, and contented, than 
 I have for these three months. This is not imagination or mere 
 talk, but a positive fact. It is a reality which I have experienced, 
 and which I experience still. So that all which mamma could say 
 or do would not alter the case. Ha, ha, ha,” he added with a 
 hearty and sincere laugh, “ my wife in love with Chopinelle indeed. 
 What an idea ! it is perfect madness. And, as Ursula told me 
 last night, if it were not for being uncivil to Chopinelle, and so 
 losing the chance of the road which would be so much advantage 
 to my manufactory, she would have sent him and his duets about 
 A A 3 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 35 G 
 
 their business long ago — he bored her to death, and quite tortured 
 her ears, for, instead of singing, he makes a noise it appears, like 
 old Nick with a cold in his head, according to Ursula’s account. 
 His singing , indeed, always gave me that sort of idea, but as I am 
 no judge I never said anything about it — nor Ursula either, for fear 
 of annoying me by laughing at my intimate friend. I just ask 
 yourself, what can mamma have been thinking about to fancy such 
 nonsense % A great, stupid, conceited fellow like that. After 
 all that Chopinelle must be very ridiculous, since my poor Ursula, 
 in spite of her tears, made such fun of him last night, that we 
 both finished by laughing like two children. My wife is so gay, so 
 funny when she likes — you have no idea of it, cousin, because, in 
 your presence, she is on her guard for fear you should think her 
 ill-bred. But, between ourselves, she is naturally the jolliest little 
 woman in the world, and it is on that account that I grieve so much 
 at seeing her out of spirits. One must have a heart of stone to 
 tease such a poor, dear, little lamb, And then mamma (who is 
 kindness itself generally) goes and takes a spite against her — her of 
 all people in the world.” 
 
 “ I am sure, cousin, that Ursula has nothing to reproach herself 
 with, but, you know, old age is suspicious. And then, after all, it 
 appears to me that your mother hitherto has never said anything 
 to you against your wife ?” 
 
 “ No — certainly — but you will see it will come now, and I can 
 now account for mamma’s looks last night, She is not a woman, 
 you must know, to do anything by halves. That silence of hers 
 foretells a violent scene. I know mamma, she don’t speak till she 
 has got something to say, but then — she is an awful woman.” 
 
 “ The most united families, cousin, are not impenetrable to these 
 discussions, you know, but these little storms soon pass away and 
 are forgotten.” 
 
 “ Certainly, but, after all, as Ursula was saying to me, in order 
 to avoid these storms which you mention, it would be better, 
 perhaps, both for us and mamma to live a little more separated. 
 There is a very pretty house to sell, a stone’s throw from here,* I 
 and my wife might settle ourselves there, and let mamma have this 
 place to herself : you understand me 1 she would be much more 
 comfortable. For, after all, as Ursula was saying, it would be for 
 mamma’s sake.” 
 
 “ What ! leave your mother, my cousin ? Oh ! take care, she 
 has been used to live with you so long.” 
 
 £t Oh ! it would not be like leaving her, we should see her two 
 or three times every day. And then, you know, Ursula’s lungs 
 are very delicate, notwithstanding she looks in such good health : 
 and mamma has her meals at such different hours from those which 
 my wife has been accustomed to, that she has the greatest difficulty 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 3t?7 
 
 in the world to get herself used to them. It would make her ill 
 at last. The poor little woman struggled on as long as she could 
 without saying anything to me, but she has owned to me now that 
 she cannot go on any longer.” 
 
 “ So, cousin, you have almost made up your mind to separate 
 from your mother. This is a very serious resolution, and I think 
 you have adopted it very hastily ; you had not a thought of it 
 yesterday ?” 
 
 “ No — certainly — that is to say, my wife had once or twice 
 given me a hint or two : but last night she convinced me, that 
 after all which had taken place, it would be the most preferable 
 step to take, both on mamma’s account and our own, and I quite 
 agree with her. Now that I am aware of mamma’s injustice, to- 
 wards my wife, some coldness would be certain, sooner or later, to 
 arise in our intercourse, Don’t you think cousin ; that we should 
 be right in acting thus ? Oh ! I can assure you Ursula said to me 
 — First, of all consult Matilda and let us follow her advice.” 
 
 “ Since you ask my advice ; I would counsel you to wait a little 
 longer. Your poor mother doe& not expect this sudden separation, 
 and it would be a terrible blow to her.” 
 
 “Do you really think so cousin ?” 
 
 “ Why, would you not feel it yourself ?” 
 
 “ Certainly I should be terribly grieved if I were going to leave 
 mamma altogether — I do not even know if I could make up my 
 mind to do so but it will only be settling ourselves a stone’s throw 
 from the house, not more — ” 
 
 “ Notwithstanding all this, believe me, this determination would 
 be a very painful one to her, do not act hastily — believe me — wait 
 — reflect.” 
 
 One of Madame Secherin's maid-servants came in and said to 
 my cousin — 
 
 “ Madame Secherin, sir, wishes to see you — and she also requests 
 that madame will be good enough to accompany you. She is wait- 
 ing in the room with the three ivindows .” 
 
 “ In my late father’s room !” said my cousin, looking at me with 
 mingled astonishment and fear, “ what extraordinary thing has 
 happened then ? Since papa’s death my mother never goes into 
 that room except to pray, it is quite a chapel to her — you have no 
 idea, cousin, how sad and frightened I feel — I know my mother, 
 and something very serious is about to take place.” 
 
 Extremely astonished at being also summoned by Madame 
 Secherin, I followed my cousin with a melancholy presentiment. I 
 I have long retained an accurate remembrance of that family 
 scene, and it was one which I fancy must have been often acted, 
 for the feelings which were there at stake, were and always will 
 be essentially those of human nature. The conversation which I 
 
358 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 had just had with M. Secherin. proved, evidently to me, what I had 
 half guessed before, that Ursula, far from suffering at her husband’s 
 vulgarity, pretended to share it herself in order to establish her 
 influence over him still more firmly. The artfulness and adroitness 
 of my cousin terrified me, I longed to leave Rouvray, I repented 
 that I had ever come there, and a secret presentiment warned me 
 that the visit would, to me, be a fatal one. When I remembered 
 my childhood and the humiliations which Mademoiselle de Maran 
 had inflicted upon my cousin, on my account, and when I compared 
 my position to hers, I began to persuade myself that in spite of her 
 repeated assurances of affection Ursula was too false, too perfidious, 
 and too interested not to be also profoundly envious, I had a vague 
 feeling that she could not forgive me for all the apparent 
 advantages which I had always possessed over her, and that sooner 
 or later she would endeavour to avenge herself. The coolness, the 
 audacity which I had seen her exhibit the evening before, struck 
 me with terror. A woman so young, so beautiful, so bold, so 
 adroit, and so perverse, seemed to me the most dangerous creature 
 in the world. Ashamed of nothing, daring everything, lying with 
 immoveable effrontery, and uniting the gift of tears at will to the 
 most seducing smile — clever, fascinating, and without a heart. What 
 was there which she was incapable of undertaking? who could 
 resist her ? in what would she fail ? As I followed M. Secherin to 
 the interview with his moiher I reflected on the infinite adroitness 
 with which Ursula had prepared her husband for the revelations 
 which Madame Secherin was, doubtless, about to make to him. 
 
 I now entered, with my cousin, the apartment where his mother 
 was waiting for him. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE WIFE AND THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 There was something lugubriously imposing in the aspect of that 
 apartment which had been the late M. Secherin’s. His widow, 
 w r ith a pious regard to the memory of the departed, had left the 
 chamber in the same state in which it was at her husband’s death. 
 You might still see physic bottles scattered about here and there, 
 and upon a desk lay a half written letter — doubtless the last M. 
 Secherin’s hand had ever traced — protected by a globe of glass. 
 
 This apartment being always kept shut up was as damp and cold 
 as a sepulchre, and the feeble light which struggled through the 
 half drawn windo',7 blind, added still more to the desolating 
 melancholy of the room, where everything recalled, in so striking 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 350 
 
 and so gloomy a manner, the last agony of the death-bed. I shud- 
 dered in spite of myself; my cousin turned pale and approached 
 his mother with a respectful awe. 
 
 Madame Secherin was, as usual, dressed in black, and she had 
 replaced with a widow’s cap the white bavolet which she generally 
 wore. Her hair escaped in disorder from this melancholy covering, 
 her grey eye-brows were drawn down with a frown, her lips were 
 painfully contracted, and her whole countenance had a mingled 
 expression of melancholy, pain and severity, which moved and 
 struck me forcibly. 
 
 Suddenly, without uttering a word, Madame Secherin opened her 
 arms to her son, he threw himself into them, weeping as he did so, 
 and for some minutes held his mother clasped in a close embrace 
 She said to him in a voice stifled with emotion — 
 
 “ My son, my poor son — courage.” 
 
 M. Secherin wiped his eyes and said to his mother with emotion. 
 “ Good God ! mamma, why have you made us come here into 
 my fathers room 1 It brings back some very cruel moments both 
 to yourself and me — it does you harm — it is unreasonable.” 
 
 “ This place, you know, is a sacred one to me, my son, I often 
 come here to pray. It is like a holy spot — I fancy your poor 
 father sees and hears me better when I am here.” 
 
 Then addressing herself to me — 
 
 “ Madame, you are one of the family, you are an angel of virtue, 
 of kindness. It is for that reason I took the liberty of sending 
 for you here — you have a feeling of friendship for my son, you 
 know he is an honorable and good man, you will not forsake us ? 
 you will not be against us ? you will be on the side of justice, will 
 you not ?” 
 
 And Madame Secherin extended her trembling hands towards 
 
 me. 
 
 “ Madame — I know not in what way I can — ■” 
 
 “ I will tell you everything, and although that wretched woman 
 calls you her sister you will be just — I am certain you will — for you 
 can have nothing in common with the wicked.” 
 
 M. Secherin looked at me and made a sign of intelligence as if 
 to tell me that he guessed what his mother was thinking about. 
 The latter took her son's hands in her own, looked at him with a 
 touching anxiety, and said to him in a voice of profound emotion, 
 
 “ My son, if you were to meet with a great misfortune you 
 would come to me, would you not? I should replace to you all 
 you had lost — you would never be completely miserable while you 
 had me, would you V 
 
 “ But, mamma, why do you talk to me in this way ?” 
 
 “ Listen, listen, I talk to you thus to prove to you that the Lord 
 never abandons those who are good and honorable — do you hear ? 
 
360 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 If they are deceived by a false and wicked heart* — they still 
 find to console them a heart that is wholly devoted to them — a 
 mothers, and with her they forget the infamous creatures who 
 have deceived them. Courage, my poor son, courage.” 
 
 Doubtless Madame Secherin wished to prepare her son for 
 the terrible blow she was about to inflict upon him, by the 
 revelation of Ursula’s conduct. M. Secherin, however, appeared 
 to me impatient at these preliminaries. At last his mother, unable 
 to repress her indignation any longer, exclaimed, 
 
 “ You must leave her — abandon her — never see her again — 
 do you hear ? That is what she deserves. But you will still have 
 me” 
 
 “ Once more, mamma, explain yourself.” 
 
 “ Well then, my son — ” 
 
 “ Well.” 
 
 “ My son, your wife is deceiving you,” said Madame Secherin in 
 a voice of emotion, and looking at my cousin with terror. 
 
 She expected a violent explosion, but, to her utter astonishment, 
 she saw her son shrug his shoulders w r hile he simply observed. 
 
 “ Come, come, mamma, don’t let us have any more of this, I 
 know what you mean. You are alluding to Chopinelle ? Well 
 then, between ourselves, it is perfectly ridiculous.” 
 
 It is impossible to describe the stupefaction of Madame Secherin 
 at hearing her son receive, in such a manner, a revelation which she 
 had believed would be so overwhelming a one. With a mother’s 
 instinct she suddenly guessed the truth, and exclaimed. “ She has 
 been beforehand with me, she has been beforehand with me !” And 
 she hid her face in her hands. 
 
 “ Well, yes,” exclaimed her son, “ yes, my wife has told me 
 that you seemed to believe, yesterday, that Chopinelle’s epistle was 
 a love letter, she told me also that you believed Chopinelle was in 
 love with her, and that she returned his passion. However, mamma, 
 you are mistaken — your eyes have deceived you. Give me a kiss 
 and let us talk no more about it. Only, had I not such 
 entire confidence in Ursula, it might have hurt me a good deal, 
 for it would have made me suspect my poor little wife.” 
 
 My cousin appeared so completely re-assured, so blindly per- 
 suaded of his wife’s virtue, that his mother determined to strike 
 a terrible and decisive blow, forseeing that all further delicate discre- 
 tion would be now useless. She raised herself to her full height, and 
 with an imposing calmness lifted her hands to heaven and exclamed 
 in an accent of inspiration, which seemed to come from the bottom 
 of her soul 
 
 “ By the sacred memory of your father — as true as that there is a 
 God in heaven — may I be punished as a blasphemer for eternity, if 
 your wife is not guilty—” 
 
THE ORrilAN. 
 
 361 
 
 This was a formidable accusation, so solemn an assertion had such 
 power from the lips of a woman so pious and so austere, that M. 
 Secherin notwithstanding his strong faith in Ursula became as pale as 
 ashes. Immoveable, with his eyes fixed, he regarded his mother with 
 indescribable agony — I was as much astonished, as frightened, at the 
 expression of mingled, sorrow, rage, and despair, which for an in- 
 stant gave a character of almost savage earnestness to the expression 
 of his features, usually so tranquil and joyous— 
 
 “ The proofs — The proofs of that, my Mother !” cried he. 
 
 “ Proofs, you ask for proofs — and I have sworn it, and swear it 
 again by the sacred memory of your father,” said Madame Secherin 
 in a tone of sorrowful reproach. 
 
 “ My God ! My God ! is it possible ! is it possible !” cried M. 
 Secherin, hiding his face in his hands quite overwhelmed. 
 
 His mothor continued. 
 
 “ Yesterday I had the proof in my hands, I am quite sure, but 
 that fiend tore it away from me, I was so confounded by her audacity 
 that I could not speak a word — and besides that, I wished to com- 
 mune with myself, and to ask counsel from God, what course I should 
 pursue — I have thought it over all the night past — I have recalled 
 all that I witnessed of their signs of intelligence, their manner to 
 each other, I have prayed that heaven might enlighten me ; this 
 morning I came here, I threw myself on my knees, I implored your 
 poor father, who sees and hears us, to inspire me also — my prayers 
 have been answered — I feel so convinced of what I have told you, 
 that I take a solemn oath of it — do you hear — a solemn oath — you 
 know me — that I would die rather than accuse an innocent person, 
 I would not condemn my soul for all eternity by such a sacrilege — 
 Be convinced then that it is an inspiration from on High, which 
 assures me that unhappy creature is guilty.” 
 
 “ It is true ! my mother would not take a false oath, she must 
 feel very sure, and yet — Oh my God — what can I believe, what can 
 I believe,” murmured M. Secherin in a low tone, and striking with 
 violence his hands upon his forehead. 
 
 His mother raised her eyes to Heaven with a supplicating air, then 
 approaching her son, laid her venerable hands upon his shoulders, 
 and said to him with an accent of pity and of ineffable tenderness. 
 
 “ You must believe your mother, for God has inspired her, my 
 poor child : he has doubtless chosen me to strike this cruel blow, 
 because I can best console, calm, and restore you — we will live alone 
 together, as we did before — oh you will see, you will see, you will 
 not feel the absence of that bad woman — You will find me — always 
 there — I will be much more to you than I have been hitherto, be- 
 cause, do you understand, I perceived that I was less necessary to 
 you since she was here — she ! — ah I dared not tell you, but that 
 caused me so much pain ! It was that which augmented the grief 
 
362 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 that I have felt ever since the death of my poor husband — But, now 
 I shall try to be more gay — I will be so, in order to distract your 
 grief — I assure you of it — I am sure of it — you will see — you will 
 see,” said the poor mother, endeavouring to smile amidst her 
 tears. “ I shall be so rejoiced to have my child all to myself, that 
 I shall go back to the joyousness of former years, I assure you 
 you shall never feel ennui with me — my eyes are still good, so that 
 in the evenings I can read to you, that will rest you after your 
 day’s work, then I will pray to God by your bed-side, and you will 
 go to sleep with a mother’s blessing. We shall lead a peaceful and 
 calm existence, I assure you that I will love you so much — oh so 
 much, that you will find nothing to regret. 
 
 At this moment a door opened. 
 
 Ursula entered. 
 
 I am persuaded that Ursula had listened to the beginning of 
 this dialogue, and that she had cleverly timed the moment for her 
 entrance. Anticipating the result she had redoubled the coquetry 
 of her attire. 
 
 I see her now coming in, calm, smiling, ingenuous, never had 
 she looked prettier : she had short sleeves shewing her arms, 
 which were admirable from their whiteness and symmetry, her dress 
 of English muslin, very white, with a small, blue pattern on it, 
 made rather low, shewed to advantage her charming bust and 
 figure, for she had acquired a degree of embonpoint since her 
 marriage, which had been wanting before ; her brown hair in bands 
 on her temples, fell in curls on her neck, and set off to advantage 
 her countenance, so fresh and blooming, a fringe of long, black eye- 
 lashes shaded her large, dark blue eyes ; on entering she threw a 
 furtive glance at her husband, making a sign of the head to him 
 full of grace. The glance of Ursula was so full of tenderness and 
 languor, that M. Secherin, notwithstanding the agony into which 
 he had been plunged, could not help blushing and trembling with 
 love and admiration, 
 
 His countenance, hitherto obscured by doubt, lighted up im- 
 mediately, he threw upon his wife a glance, at once fascinated and 
 charmed, and from that moment he yielded to the irresistible in- 
 fluence of that seducing beauty. 
 
 I repeat it, in all my life Ursula had never appeared to me more 
 captivating. 
 
 My cousin appeared to be ignorant of all that had passed. 
 
 She respectfully saluted her mother-in-law, seated herself not 
 far from her on the sofa, lent her arm, so round and well shaped, 
 on the back of it, and crossed her legs so that her dress discovered 
 part of the prettiest foot in the world. 
 
 If at such an unhappy time I enter into these minute details, 
 apparently so trifling, if I dwell even on the attitude of Ursula, it 
 
THE OKI' HAN. 
 
 3G3 
 
 is because I am certain that every action, even to that very attitude 
 so full of coquetry, had been previously studied by my cousin, 
 with unequalled skill. Whether by chance, or intention, Ursula 
 was seated exactly where a ray of sun-shine penetrated into that 
 sombre apartment through one of the half opened shutters. 
 
 I shall never forget that striking contrast. 
 
 There was Ursula, in the full eclat of beauty, youth, and the 
 most charming toilette, appearing like a luminous Aurora, and 
 rendered still more dazzling by the gloomy twilight of the rest of 
 the apartment. 
 
 Further, in the shade, was the mother of M. Secherin, dismally 
 dressed in mourning — pale, disordered, and bent down with grief 
 and age. 
 
 Alas ! when I saw the choice which was to be made between 
 those two women, one verging on the tomb, and the other in the 
 spring time of life, I was seized with a deep sadness. 
 
 I was on the point of witnessing one of those fatal struggles 
 so common in all our careers, which have for their foundation the 
 most sacred of feelings and the most formidable of all human 
 passions. 
 
 I felt a profound sympathy for that poor old mother, because she 
 was old, and because she was a mother, my heart smote me with 
 a sad presentiment. I remembered that at the very moment in 
 which she was using every argument her heart could suggest to 
 console her son, when she was, with touching simplicity enumerating 
 to him the distractions she should find for him, and asking him 
 what he should have to regret— at that moment entered Ursula, 
 beautiful, coquettish, hardened, adroit. 
 
 Unfortunate hazard — unfortunate approach which seemed to say 
 to that unhappy man. “ Choose — you must henceforth pass your 
 life with that woman, austere, pious, with a countenance faded by 
 sadness and years ; or with that enchanting one who unites in 
 your eyes every charm and seduction. 
 
 Without doubt the maternal instinct of Madame Secherin shewed 
 her the magnitude of the danger of the struggle, which was im- 
 pending. 
 
 Her countenance had till then expressed only the most tender 
 sentiments, but at the sight of my cousin her brow grew dark, and 
 her features became violently contracted with indignation, con- 
 tempt and hatred. Stupified at my cousin’s audacity, Madame 
 Secherin had been silent for a moment. Suddenly she exclaimed, 
 
 “ What have you come here for ? away with you — away with 
 you !” 
 
 And half rising from her arm chair she pointed to the door with 
 an imperious motion of her finger. 
 
 Ursula first looked at her mother-in-law with simple and painful 
 
3G4 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 astonishment, and then cast an interrogating glance of gentleness 
 and resignation at M. Secherin. 
 
 “ But, mamma,” said the latter with hesitation. 
 
 “ I insist upon her leaviug the room, I do not choose this apart- 
 ment, which to me is a sacred one, to be polluted an instant longer 
 by her presence. She is unworthy to remain here — I insist upon 
 her leaving the room, my son, do you hear ! I insist upon her leaving 
 the room !” 
 
 M. Secherin made an impatient movement, and said to his 
 mother. 
 
 “ But, after all, mamma, one must not condemn people without 
 hearing them.” 
 
 “ You take her part ! you take her part !” exclaimed Madame 
 Secherin, clasped her two hands together, then letting them fall 
 with a despairing gesture, she repeated — “ He still takes her part !” 
 
 Ursula turning her large eyes, in which a tear was glistening, 
 towards her husband, and said to him in a voice trembling with 
 emotion. 
 
 “ Good God ! good God ! my love, what does all this mean V' 
 
 “ And you, madame,” she added, turning with an imploring air 
 to her mother-in-law, “ tell me, for God’s sake, tell me what I have 
 done to deserve such treatment from you ?” 
 
 “ What have you done ? you have effected the misery of my 
 son — you have shamefully deceived him. Bnt he is no longer your 
 dupe, I have enlightened him, and he now feel towards you all 
 the contempt and aversion which you so richly deserve.’ 
 
 At these words, pronounced in a loud voice, Ursula looked at her 
 husband with inexpressible anguish, and then concealing her face 
 in her hands, merely said in a tone of heart-breaking reproachful- 
 ness. “ Oh ! my love !” 
 
 She then leant her face upon the back of the couch, and all you 
 could see was the trembling motion of her beautiful white 
 shoulders. 
 
 “ Mamma — ” exclaimed M. Secherin stamping violently — “ why 
 do you say that ? why do you say that I feel contempt and aversion 
 for my wife ?” 
 
 “ Because she deserves it. You well know she deserves it — 
 Come — come — my poor son, let us leave her.” 
 
 And Madame Secherin made a movement as if to get up. 
 
 “ Things cannot take place in this way,” exclaimed her son. 
 “ You must not accuse my wife without giving me the proofs of 
 the fault which you say she has committed. Listen, mamma, the 
 happiness of my whole existence is at stake, and you must be sure 
 that 1 am not going to sacrifice that upon light grounds.” 
 
 “ Upon light grounds, my son ? When I have sworn to you 
 that she is guilty !” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 365 
 
 “ Guilty, guilty, that is very easy for you to say — but I cannot 
 renounce all happiness for ever, because you are persuaded of a 
 falsehood.” 
 
 “ All your happiness — she ? and what am 7 then to you V’ ex- 
 claimed Madame Sdcherin with indignation. 
 
 “ Good God, mamma, you are my mother, I respect you, I love 
 you — tenderly love you — But — ” he exclaimed with anguish, “ I 
 also love Ursula passionately, I love her as one loves the first, the 
 only woman whom one has ever loved, and I will never — no never 
 sacrifice her to your prejudices, if those prejudices are without 
 foundation.” 
 
 “ You accuse me then of perjury, wretched son !” 
 
 “ I do not accuse you — you tell me that my wife is guilty ; well 
 then prove it to me !” 
 
 Madame Secherin exclaimed with an accent of terrible indig- 
 nation. 
 
 “ Do you dare to require any other proofs than the oath I take 
 here in the sight of God who hears me — by the sacred memory 
 of your father ?” 
 
 “ For heaven’s sake, mamma, do not get angry. I should not 
 wish to doubt your word, but after all you may deceive yourself, you 
 may be blinded by the aversion you entertain towards my wife, 
 and so consider, as a supernatural revelation, what is merely the 
 consequence of that aversion : for, since we are on the subject, j 
 will tell you that I have learnt to-day for the first time that you 
 dislike my wife, and this now explains many circumstances to me.” 
 
 “Well then, yes, I hate her, yes I despise her, because she has 
 shamefully deceived you, because she dishonors your name. And 
 I will not suffer a wretch like her to dishonor a name which your 
 father and myself always bore with honor.” 
 
 A few stifled sobs burst from Ursula. 
 
 Her husband, reddening with anger, exclaimed. 
 
 “ My mother, you must not presume upon your position. Yet 
 once more if you have any proofs against my wife, bring them ; 
 here she is ---accuse her. If she cannot defend herself— if she is 
 guilty, I shall have no compassion for her. But until then — do 
 not insult her. No, I will not suffer her to be insulted in my 
 presence.” 
 
 “ Do you hear ? He threatens me — My God ! thou hearest him, 
 he threatens me in the room where his father died.” 
 
 “ My God mamma, mamma forgive me,” exclaimed M. Secherin 
 throwing himself upon his knees and seizing his mother’s hand, 
 which she drew back indignantly. All at once my cousin raised her 
 sweet face bathed in tears. I looked at her attentively. For the 
 first time I discovered what I had not remarked before, that her 
 eyes tho’ full of tears were neither red nor swollen, they even ap- 
 
366 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 peared more brilliant from the tears which gently flowed from them. 
 I should say coquettishly, when I compare them with the bitter sobs 
 and convulsive agitation of real grief. 
 
 I discovered then for the first time that it was possible to retain 
 beauty even in weeping ; the most enchanting features had hitherto 
 appeared to me always disfigured by the nervous contraction of 
 despair. 
 
 At the movement Ursula made in getting up, her htfsband 
 turned towards her. 
 
 “ My friend,” said she, in a voice at once firm, noble, and touch- 
 ing,” I will never be the cause of discord between you and your 
 mother ; I have had the misfortune to incur her displeasure ; I 
 resign myself to my fate — she declares that I am guilty — she 
 affirms it by a solemn oath, do not do her the injustice to doubt 
 her word. Believe her— forget me as one unworthy of you. 
 Matilda will take me back to my father ; you will remain with 
 your mother, and you will make amends to her by your tenderness 
 for the grief that I, alas ! involuntarily, have caused her.” 
 
 Madame Secherin regarded her daughter-in-law sternly, and 
 said — 
 
 “ Do you think you can repair thus the mischief you have done 
 to my son ? he might have married a woman worthy of him — 
 thanks to you, behold him now solitary, and yet chained for life, 
 happily I still remain. I will console him for everything.” 
 
 “ Ah ! do not fear, madame, I feel it here,” and Ursula placed 
 her two hands on her heart, “ in a short time your son will be 
 free-. -he can make a wiser choice,” added she, as if she felt herself 
 on the brink of the grave. 
 
 M. Secherin could not stand this, he burst into tears ; he was at 
 the knees of his mother, he turned towards Ursula, seized her hand 
 which he covered with kisses, and said in a broken voice, 
 
 “ My poor wife— calm yourself. My mother does not mean what 
 she says, do not pay any attention to it — forgive it — do I accuse 
 you ? I ! could I live without you ? am I not sure of your heart ?” 
 
 The sincere grief of that excellent man sensibly affected me,. 
 I was disgusted with the duplicity of Ursula, but what could 
 I dol 
 
 Madame 8eeherin perceiving the sudden revulsion in her son’s 
 feelings, exclaimed, 
 
 “ So you will sacrifice me to that hypocrite ? so a few false tears 
 are sufficient to make you take her part against your mother ?” 
 
 M. Secherin hastily rose and answered, with difficulty restraining 
 himself. 
 
 “ Would you drive me mad, my mother? I ask you for the last 
 time, yes or no, have you any proofs againt my wife. You believe 
 that Chopinelle has paid his addresses to Ursula and that he loves 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 367 
 
 her, is it not so? Well, for me, I do not believe it. You believe 
 that the letter he wrote to her yesterday was a declaration, or a 
 love letter. Well, for me, I do not believe it. You say that my 
 wife will cause me unhappiness, and I declare that hitherto she has 
 made me the happiest of men ; I have innumerable proofs of the 
 affection of Ursula, of her love and her tenderness. To accuse her, 
 therefore, I must have proofs, and proofs the most positive, of her 
 falsehood and treachery. Without these I shall never have the 
 courage to sacrifice my happiness to your antipathies.” 
 
 “ But I, I will sacrifice the dearest hopes of my heart to ensure 
 the happiness of your mother, my love !” exclaimed Ursula with 
 touching dignity. “ My presence is disagreeable to her, then it 
 remains only to me to take my departure. Never forget that your 
 mother is your mother — ever since your infancy she has watched 
 over you with care and tenderness, as for me, I have loved you 
 hardly a year ; my attachment, therefore, cannot be put in com- 
 petition with hers — if I had had the happiness of having been 
 devoted to you many years of my life, I might have attempted to 
 struggle against the unjust prejudices of your mother, whom I 
 love and respect ; but, alas ! I have been able to do so little for 
 you, I have so few rights to insist upon, that I must submit to my 
 fate without murmuring — Adieu, adieu for ever.” 
 
 Ursula made a movement towards the door covering her eyes with 
 her hand. Her husband threw himself before her, he stopped her, 
 he drew her back, he forced her to be seated, and then turning to 
 Madame Secherin he said. 
 
 “ You see, my mother, that she is an angel, not a single reproach, 
 not a murmur, and yet you have treated her as the vilest of crea- 
 tures.” 
 
 Madame Secherin smiled bitterly — “ Are you so blind, are you so 
 mad as to believe those hypocritical assertions, do you not perceive 
 that it is because she cannot defend her conduct that she acts the 
 part of a victim — and she wishes to depart without explanation.” 
 
 “ No, Madame, do not believe that, said Ursula sadly — I am silent 
 because I respect and admire the feelings which dictate your con- 
 duct, yes Madame, nothing is more sacred in my eves than the love 
 of a mother for her son ! if I ventured to compare the love of a 
 wife, for her husband, with that sacred affection ; I would tell you 
 that I can enter into all the feelings of jealousy, and devotion, how- 
 ever blind they may be, because I am myself capable of experiencing 
 them ; one word, more, Madame, ever since the beginning of this 
 painful discussion, Mathilde my cousin and my sister, has remained 
 silent, you know her virtues, her love of truth ; had she believed me 
 guilty, notwithstanding the ties which bind us to each other, not- 
 withstanding our friendship, she would have condemned me, alas ! 
 madame, I know how much she suffers in not being able to defend 
 
3G8 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 me — but to defend me would be to accuse you, to accuse you almost 
 of sacrilege, therefore she is obliged to be silent.” 
 
 “ You ! and you also ! you will support her,” cried the wretched, 
 mother, clasping her hands with agony and turning towards me, 
 u but it is impossible, speak, speak, that that perfidious creature 
 may not say that your silence justifies her.” 
 
 What could I do ? Accuse my cousin ? never could I summon 
 courage to do that, I could, therefore, only reply. 
 
 “ Madame, appearances are sometimes mistaken, and — ” 
 
 “ You see, my mother, my cousin is also convinced of her in- 
 nocence,” cried M. Secherin. 
 
 “ Of what use is that,” said Ursula hastily. “ My cousin may 
 proclaim my innocence, but, between your mother and me, you 
 must not hesitate a moment — only, madame,” continued Ursula 
 in a voice broken by sobs, “ as I trust I may carry away with me, 
 as my only consolation, the esteem of the man to whom I could 
 have devoted my life with so much happiness, you must allow me 
 to j ustify myself, may I not ? You will allow me to ask you if, in 
 the whole course of my conduct, you can bring forward a single 
 circumstance which can condemn me, allow me that consolation, 
 madame, for pity’s sake.” 
 
 “ Oh ! no doubt, you are so full of dissimulation, so clever, that 
 you have taken good care not to be surprised, notwithstanding my 
 watchfulness,” cried Madame Secherin, exasperated to the highest 
 pitch by so much falsehood. Ah ! I am punished for my weakness, 
 if I had made known my first suspicions to my son, he would have 
 watched you better than I have done, I am old, and infirm, I have 
 not the strength to combat with you — have you not often passed 
 hours, shut up with M. Chopinelle, under pretence of singing 
 together V’ 
 
 “ But, madame, you often came into the room where I was, and, 
 besides, my husband had begged me to sing with his friend.” 
 
 “ You do not understand then,” cried Madame Secherin, “ that 
 it is precisely because I have no palpable proofs, and that, not- 
 withstanding, I am as much convinced of your guilt as I am of 
 my own existence, that God has given me the courage to make a 
 solemn oath in order to convict you of imposture, condemned you 
 effectually, and you know what you were about in risking every- 
 thing to get it back. 
 
 “ Again that letter — this has not common sense,” said M. 
 Secherin, “ to turn against my wife — a little attention she was 
 preparing for me.” 
 
 “ My God ! my God ! I am, however, innocent,” cried Ursula, 
 throwing herself at the feet of Madame Secherin, “ you see clearly 
 you have no decided proof against me. I submit to everything. 
 
 1 will resign my husband, and never see him again. I will leave 
 
THB OltPHAN. 
 
 369 
 
 your house and live in obscurity, a prey to sorrow and regret ; but, 
 at least, allow me to take with me my honour and the esteem of my 
 husband, I ask only that, only that to help to sustain me for the 
 short time I shall live ; you are good, you are generous, it is only 
 the blind love which you bear to your son which prejudices you 
 against me — only be just — shew a little pity for the poor Ursula 
 who would have liked so much to call you her mother.” 
 
 Ursula endeavoured to carry to her lips Madame Secherin’s hand. 
 She pushed her away harshly, saying — 
 
 “ Do not touch me you infamous hypocrite.” 
 
 M. Secherin could not stand this, he took his wife gently by 
 the arm, saying in a voice trembling with anger. 
 
 “ Eise, Ursula, rise, my good and worthy wife, enough of this 
 humiliation. I am the judge — and I declare you innocent, and 
 whatever may be said or whatever may be done, I shall always 
 consider you as my best and most sincere friend.” 
 
 “ Unhappy man, this is no longer blindness, it is madness,” cried 
 Madame Secherin, “ but take care, you will cover yourself with so 
 much ridicule in remaining the dupe of that woman, that none 
 will even pity you.” 
 
 These last words of Ursula’s mother-in-law were most imprudent 
 ones, they wounded the self love of M. Secherin : therefore he 
 replied with great irritation. 
 
 “ Be it so, I much prefer to be an object of ridicule, to being 
 unjust, treacherous, and wicked.” 
 
 “ For whom do you intend those expressions, my son, answer 
 me T 
 
 “ I shall not explain myself, this scene has lasted long enough, 
 it has done much harm to my wife, to you, and to me ; whatever 
 you may say more would be useless. I am determined not to 
 suffer any further attack, in my presence, on this angel of gentle- 
 ness and goodness.” 
 
 “ You dare to threaten me in the house of your father — and 
 threaten me for the sake of an infamous creature, who, at the 
 bottom of her heart, laughs at you for it.” 
 
 “ My mother — do not drive me to extremities. I repeat to you, 
 whatever you may say, whatever you may do, I shall love and 
 respect my wife, yes, and I will defend her against all who attack 
 her, be they who they may.” 
 
 “ Against me you mean, is it not so ? dare to repeat that, un- 
 grateful son that you are.” 
 
 “ Well then, yes, yes, even against you, if you attack her un- 
 justly,” cried M. Secherin, unable to contain himself any longer, 
 “ she desires only my happiness, while you try to render me miserable 
 by persecuting the being the dearest to me in the world.” 
 
 B B 
 
370 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Ursula, half reclining on the sofa, hid her face in her hands and 
 wept bitterly. 
 
 The countenance of Madame Secherin took a threatening aspect, 
 she said with a firm voice and strong energy. 
 
 “ My son, you know that my will is irrevocable, either this woman 
 quits the home of your father and you remain with me, or you will 
 quit it with her, and I will never see you again as long as you 
 live.” 
 
 “ My mother — ” 
 
 “ Madame,” cried I, “ pause — do not give way to a first im- 
 pression •'* 
 
 “ I tell you, my son, that if you will not abandon that woman 
 this very instant, I renounce you for the rest of my life,” replied 
 Madame Secherin, “ you will both quit this house, and as I shall 
 no longer have a child, I shall leave all my fortune to the poor.” 
 
 “ You think then, my mother, that I am such a despicable being 
 as to pause for such a threat ; a threat about money ?” cried M. 
 Secherin. 
 
 “ Yes, now, for that woman has made you as avaricious and 
 covetous as she is herself, to deprive you of your inheritance is a 
 means of punishing you both.” 
 
 “ So then, my mother, you drive me away from my father’s house 
 — you disinherit me because I will not share your blind hatred to 
 my wife.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, I drive you away, unnatural son, I drive you away 
 not to have that creature under my eyes — I drive you away,” here 
 the voice of the unhappy mother gradually changed its expression, 
 and she added with great emotion and bursting into tears. “ I 
 drive you away — My God ! because I could not bear to see you 
 continually deceived, unhappy son I drive you away to spare your 
 seeing me die of grief.” 
 
 These last words were spoken with so much feeling, with such 
 maternal agony that M. Secherin ran towards his mother, threw 
 himself on his knees and cried — 
 
 “ Pardon ! pardon !” 
 
 At this moment Ursula drew a deep sigh, she let her head fall 
 against the back of the sofa, one of her arms drooped to the floor, 
 and she fainted. 
 
 By accident her position was one of the most admirable for grace 
 and languor, from her closed eyes escaped some drops of tears, 
 transparent as the dew-drops of the rose, her bosom heaved con- 
 vulsively ; two or three times she put her hand to her chest as if 
 mechanically, and as if painfully oppressed. 
 
 I hardly believed in the reality of that swoon, nevertheless I ran 
 to her. 
 
The Wife and the Mother in- Law 
 

THE ORPHAN. 
 
 371 
 
 u You will kill her, my mother, you see you will kill her,” cried M„ 
 Secherin in despair, and precipitating himself towards his wife. 
 
 The anger of Madame Secherin was renewed ; she cried with 
 furious indignation — 
 
 “ She is mocking you ! that swoon is all acting like the rest — 
 do not take any notice of it — she will soon come to herself, the 
 hypocrite !” 
 
 “ Oh ! that is horrible,” cried M. Secherin, “ not to have a grain 
 of pity —well then, since you desire it, my mother, let us separate 
 for ever, after such harsh words I could never meet you again 
 without pain.” 
 
 “ Unworthy son, God will punish you by your own weapons — go — I 
 curse—” 
 
 “ Madame, he is your son,” and throwing myself towards Madame 
 Secherin, I arrested the curse which was about to escape her lips. 
 
 “No, I will not curse him — he has lost his senses — God has 
 deserted him — let him remain with this infamous woman, the 
 punishment is a terrible one, but he deserves it.” 
 
 And the unhappy mother left the room. 
 
 M. Secherin, kneeling by the side of Ursula, covered her hands, 
 her hair, her forehead with kisses and tears, calling upon her 
 name with a loud voice. 
 
 “ But she is dying, my cousin,” cried he, “ unlace her, you see 
 that she is dying.” 
 
 The conclusion of this scene, was what might have been expected, 
 the nervous attack of Ursula ceased a few moments after the de- 
 parture of Madame Secherin. 
 
 On recovering, Ursula burst into tears, and persisted in her 
 determination to return to her father j it had become impossible 
 that she could remain with her mother-in-law. 
 
 I endeavoured, in vain, to point out the possibility of a recon- 
 ciliation, Ursula was determined to sacrifice herself! The last 
 scruples of M. Secherin vanished under that influence so irresistible 
 with him. 
 
 The very evening of that scene, he announced to his mother that 
 they were going to inhabit a neighbouring house, then to be sold. 
 The separation was arranged and concluded. At the moment that 
 M. Secherin came to announce to me this sad news, I heard the 
 noise of horses in the court, I ran to the window — it was my 
 husband— it was Gontran. 
 
372 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 RETURN AND DEPARTURE. 
 
 I threw myself weeping into the arms of Gontran. Such feelings 
 cannot be described — he was returned to me safe — safe from the most 
 terrible danger that a man could encounter. 
 
 His handsome features bore traces of the grief he had suffered. 
 His manners towards me were full of grace and goodness — twenty 
 times over he asked my pardon for having caused me unwillingly so 
 much pain, promising to make me forget it, by loading me with 
 tenderness and love. I could almost say that I ceased to regret 
 those cruel events to which I had been the victim for many months ; 
 so much did the darkness of the sad and gloomy past, contrast joyously 
 with the brightness of the present. 
 
 What predominated the most in the midst of the tender emotions 
 which agitated me on the return of Gontran, was a feeling of pro- 
 found serenity, an unbounded confidence in the future ; I did not 
 believe in perfect happiness — hut I thought that I had experienced 
 so much of misfortune, that I might reasonably hope now, that my 
 days would glide on in peace and felicity. 
 
 Strange revulsion ! before the arrival of Gontran, I was some- 
 times frightened in trying to figure to myself what I should feel on 
 his return, in thinking of his bad and fatal action ! In vain, being 
 unable to excuse him, I said to myself that I should have done 
 the same, I could not help dreading my first impression, but, in 
 the pleasure of meeting him again, I completely forgot the dis- 
 graceful act he had been guilty of. I was entirely engrossed with 
 the desire to hide from him the terrible night that I had passed in 
 M. Lugarto's house. I was also extremely anxious to know how 
 M. de Lancry would disguise from me the real motives of his sudden 
 departure and return. I feared that he would lie only too well, and 
 that would render me suspicious of him for the rest of my life. 
 
 I could understand why he had hitherto hid from me the fatal 
 secret which existed between him and Lugarto, the confession 
 would not have saved Gontran, and would have filled me with in- 
 conceivable terror : but he had now to account to me for a long ab- 
 sence and I did not wish him to draw too largely on his invention 
 in order to satisfy me. 
 
 My fears were not realised. Gontran, if one may so speak, avoided 
 telling a falsehood by confessing part of the truth ; he told me that 
 
THfi ORPHAN. 
 
 37 3 
 
 he had contracted great debts in money to M. Lugarto, and that 
 besides that man held in his hands, papers of the greatest conse- 
 quence, not only to himself, Gontran, but to the honour of a family, 
 giving me to understand that a lady’s correspondence was in ques- 
 tion. 
 
 M. de Lancry added that to recover these papers which were 
 no longer in the possession of M. Lugarto, he had been forced to 
 go to England, where he had at last found and destroyed them 
 after an infinity of trouble. 
 
 I was too much occupied in thinking in what manner Gontran 
 would disguise the truth from me, to recollect that I had also to con- 
 ceal from him some important events. Several times my husband 
 asked me if I had seen Monsieur Lugarto during his absence. 
 
 As M. de Mortagne had advised me, and as I had already written 
 word that I should do, to Gontran, I replied that as soon as I had 
 received his letter, I set off for Touraine, wishing to spend the time of 
 his absence with Ursula. 
 
 By the questions of M. de Lancry on that subject, I found that 
 he was at a loss to account for M. Lugarto’s having sent him back 
 the forgery, which hitherto he had taken such pains to preserve. 
 
 My husband wished to know if my entreaties or my influence had 
 had anything to do with this restitution of M. Lugarto. 
 
 I repented again having concealed anything from M. de Lancry ; 
 but remembering the advice of M. de Mortagne, and the promise 
 that I had given him, I remained silent on the subject. 
 
 Gontran, doubtless, feared to awaken my suspicions, by questioning 
 me further, for he spoke no more of M. Lugarto. 
 
 The last thing that caused me embarrassment, was the circum- 
 stance of M. de Mortagne having repaid Lugarto the sums of 
 money which my husband owed him ; as soon as Gontran, who was 
 ignorant of it, took measures to acquit himself of this debt, all 
 would be discovered ; M. de Lancry however reassured me, for 
 some time to come, at least, on that account, by saying that he 
 should defer the payment he owed to M. Lugarto, paying him in- 
 terest in the mean time. These explanations given and received, 
 Gontran appeared relieved from a great weight. His countenance 
 expressed a sort of careless confidence, which I had never before 
 observed, even before my marriage. It was easily accounted for ; 
 now that I knew he had always been in dread of the threats 
 of M. Lugarto, his evil genius. Alas ! shall I confess it? for a mo- 
 ment I was ungrateful enough towards providence, to regret the 
 shade of sadness and melancholy which grief had hitherto caused 
 on the features of Gontran. 
 
 It appeared to me that, when he was unhappy he belonged more 
 exclusively to me. In seeing him, so young, so handsome, so gay, so 
 
374 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 brilliant, and now so free from all unhappy pre- occupation I felt al- 
 most fear for the future. I had already experienced the horrible 
 tortures of jealousy ; and yet, in paying attentions to the Princess 
 Ksernika, Gontran had only obeyed the will of M. Lugarto — at 
 that time Gontran wus overwhelmed with anxieties ; from one mo- 
 ment to another he might be disgraced, notwithstanding that, had 
 he not been fascinating to that woman ? what then would he not 
 have been, if his own fancy had induced him to pay his court to 
 her ? I soon, however, rejected these sad thoughts as an outrage to the 
 happiness which was restored to me. 
 
 Alas ! that fear was a presentiment. 
 
 I had told Gontran of the rupture that had taken place, between 
 M. Secherin and his mother, without telling him the cause of it, 
 Ursula’s secret was sacred with me, I attributed to pecuniary dis- 
 cussions, first trifling, then becoming more and more aggravated, the 
 determination that my cousin had adopted of living separate from 
 his mother. 
 
 Gontran appeared extremely disappointed that he could not, as 
 he had hoped, pass some days at Eouvray. 
 
 That delay would have sufficed — he told me — to have completed 
 some indispensable repairs at the Chateau de Maran , in order to 
 render it more habitable, for it had not been occupied for some 
 time, but the sad division which now subsisted between my cousin 
 and her mother-in-law, did not allow of our prolonging our stay at 
 Kouvray. 
 
 In vain, the next morning, finding myself alone with M. 
 Secherin, I attempted to bring about a reconciliation between him 
 and his mother, he appeared to me even more irritated against her, 
 than he had been the previous evening. 
 
 Ursula had continued to play her part with her accustomed skill, 
 she did not permit herself a single word of recrimination against 
 her mother-in-law ; she understood, she admired, she said, that jea- 
 lousy of affection which could drive a mother to desire her 
 daughter-in-law to be made a sacrifice for her. 
 
 Her husband had but to speak the word, she would bow to Iris 
 decision, and consent to all he desired, she would abandon the hus- 
 band of her heart, to please Madame Secherin ! 
 
 This angelic conduct in Ursula, exasperated M. Secherin still 
 more against his mother. She like most persons of a firm and just 
 character, shewed herseif more and more inflexible in her aversion 
 to Ursula. I went to seek Madame Secherin to take my leave of 
 her. 
 
 In vain I represented to her how great would be her isolation 
 away from her son, she would hear of nothing, till her son was 
 separated from his wife. 
 
THE OIU’lIAJf. 
 
 37 5 
 
 The strongest proof of the extraordinary and fatal influence 
 which my consin exercised over her husband was, that I found him, 
 who usually was such an excellent son, with a heart so good and 
 considerate, I found him I say, indifferent to that painful sepa- 
 ration. 
 
 He told me that his mother would become more calm, then he 
 would come and see her every day, he was almost pleased at what 
 had happened, for sooner or later they must have come to a sepa- 
 ration. The accusation of Madame Secherin was, according to his 
 idea, only a pretence to send away her daughter-in-law, whom she 
 never could bear “ because she loved her son too much .” 
 
 “ Yes ; my cousin, that is the real state of the case,” said M. 
 Secherin to me. “ My wife loves me too well ; and my mother is 
 jealous of her.” 
 
 Alas ! chance revealed to me, a cruel blow, and one which under 
 present circumstances appeared a raillery of destiny. 
 
 The day after his arrival Gontran went to give some orders re- 
 lative to our departure, which was to take place in the afternoon. 
 I had availed myself of that moment to have the interview I have 
 just mentioned with M. Secherin, we were walking up and down a 
 shady avenue situated in the middle of the garden. 
 
 At length my cousin left me. 
 
 When I was left alone, I sate down upon a bench placed at the 
 foot of a group of painted stones, representing a shepherd and 
 shepherdess, where I soon fell into a deep reverie. Such statues 
 were common enough in gardens during the last century, and these 
 were erected at the end of the avenue which I have mentioned. 
 Their pedestal was large and square, and surrounded by four 
 benches. In the sitting position which I occupied, the avenue was 
 behind me, and I was completely concealed by the elevation of its 
 little monument. 
 
 I know not wherefore, but, instead of recurring to my own happi- 
 ness, and to Gontran, my thoughts turned to the perfidious conduct 
 of Ursula, for since the scene of the day before, my cousin had 
 constantly avoided me. Suddenly I heard her voice. She was 
 talking to some one, and was by degrees approaching my seat. 
 
 A pang at my heart told me that Gontran was her companion. 
 
 I listened — I was not mistaken. 
 
 Instead of getting up and joining Ursula and my husband, I was 
 base enough to think of listening to their conversation. 
 
 Without reason or motive ; a gleam of jealousy had suddenly 
 passed through my heart. 
 
 I held my breath, and listened with the most greedy attention. 
 
 Now that I am cool and collected I am afraid to ask myself if I 
 was actuated at that instant by some suspicion, and I am forced to 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 37 6 - 
 
 acknowledge thas I had none — my resolution was an instantaneous 
 — an involuntary one. 
 
 I listened anxiously. 
 
 The gravel which grated under the steps of Ursula and Gontran 
 as they walked, prevented me at first from hearing or distinguishing 
 anything. 
 
 When they were within a few paces of my retreat I caught the 
 following words, which were spoken by Ursula in her most gentle 
 and melancholy tone. 
 
 “ Such sadness in solitude — -for it is solitude — when — ” 
 
 I could not hear any more. 
 
 Gontran and Ursula, when they had reached the end of the 
 avenue, turned back again, and their footsteps gradually died away 
 in the distance from my hearing. 
 
 In the words of Ursula which I had caught there was nothing to 
 astonish or to wound me. My cousin faithful to her mania of pass- 
 ing for a misunderstood and unhappy woman, was doubtless repeat- 
 ing to Gontran the sentimental fiction which she had so often 
 rehearsed to me. And then — it was perhaps not to herself that she 
 alluded. And yet I felt so painful a shock, so piercing an anguish 
 in my heart — the future, of which but just now I had for a moment 
 caught so cheerful and so brilliant a glance, became suddenly covered 
 with a veil of such intense gloom, that I was struck by an invin- 
 cible and fatal presentiment. “ Why,” I asked myself, “ should I 
 feel such deep and painful emotion at a few insignificant words I 
 Do they conceal then some perfidiousness, some treachery ?” 
 
 Still under the impression of the cruel scene at which I had as- 
 sisted the day before, I tried to perceive, in the fear which agitated 
 me, a divine revelation, similar to that which had so fruitlessly en- 
 lightened Madame Secherin as to the guilty conduct of my cousin. 
 
 I cannot say with what anguish, what anxiety I waited for Gon- 
 tran and Ursula to return to my end of the avenue. For a moment 
 I blushed with shame at thinking to what ignominy I descended in 
 thus playing the part of a spy, I even made a movement to with- 
 draw, but a fatal curiosity held me nailed to the spot. 
 
 Once more I heard them approach. My heart began to beat 
 with violence ; and you might have said that each pulsation was 
 regulated by the light and measured sound of their footsteps. 
 
 This time it was Gontran’s voice that I heard. 
 
 Oh ! I recognized that voice, with its enchanting tones ! its ex- 
 pression was, I fancied, full of a graceful interest, and he spoke so 
 low that I only caught these words, 
 
 “ Do you remember , tell me , do you remember ? Oh ! you were 
 
 50 .” 
 
 [ cmild not hear the remainder of the phrase. 
 
THE 0RP1IAK. 
 
 377 
 
 Once more they were out of hearing. 
 
 Alas ! in those words of Gontran there was nothing which could 
 give me reason to suspect him, and yet, when I thought of the per- 
 son to whom they were addressed, they hurt my feelings most 
 terribly. 
 
 What were the recollections which he invoked ? Why did he ask 
 that woman if she remembered. What was it she could remember 1 
 Then I recollected that for a month before my marriage Gontran 
 had seen Ursula at my aunt’s almost every day. 
 
 Then — oh, misery ! misery ! I recollected that Ursula had told 
 me a thousand times how delighted she was with my husband, that 
 I was the happiest of women, and that felicity like mine was never 
 made for her. Then — oh, misery ! misery ! I recollected the hu- 
 miliation and the rage of Ursula when, after her marriage, and in 
 the presence of Gontran, Mademoiselle de Maran had, with infernal 
 malice, drawn out all the ridiculous points of M. Secherin’s charac- 
 ter. Knowing as I did the perfidiousness, the dissimulation, and 
 corruption of my cousin, was I not justified in fearing that she 
 wished to avenge herself for all the sufferings formerly inflicted 
 upon her by Mademoiselle de Maran, doubtless with the hope of 
 making me some day the victim of a cruel retaliation h Doubtless 
 my aunt, with her frightful sagacity, had guessed, even in the child- 
 hood of Ursula, the faults and vices which would, in their develop- 
 ment be so fatal to me, for our childish friendship, and our ties of 
 relationship would of necessity bring us at some future day to- 
 gether. 
 
 These sad reflections were again interrupted. Gontran was 
 speaking again ! and this time his tone of voice was gay and sar- 
 castic. 
 
 Ursula answered in a similar strain, for I heard a joyous and 
 sunny laugh. 
 
 Gontran replied. “ You will see that I am right — you will see. 
 I should so much like to prove it to youY 
 
 11 Will you hold your tongue, cousin V' replied Ursula, in a tone of 
 coquettish and graceful reproof. “ You are mad — it is shocking to — ” 
 
 And then nothing, nothing more : their voices were again lost in 
 the distance. 
 
 What did those words mean h 
 
 To what did Gontran allude when he told my eousin that she 
 would see ? what was it he wished to prove to her h 
 
 And she too, why did she tell him so coquettishly that he was 
 mad ? Good God ! what could they be conversing about 1 
 
 Alas ! I remember that I was so stupidly simple as to be indig- 
 nant because my cousin and my husband were not talking about 
 me. Yes, there is so much childish egotism in grief ; when one 
 suffers, one fancies oneself so interesting and so deserving of com- 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 P9 L? 
 
 A 7b 
 
 passion, that in our mad despair one asks sentiments of humanity 
 even from those who inflict the wounds from which one suffers. 
 
 “ Thus,” I said to myself with bitterness, “ what ! Gontran and 
 Ursula who love me so much — do they not even give a thought to 
 me at this moment 1 And yet nothing would be more natural. 
 Yes — and it is so natural that they must necessarily be under the 
 fascination of some absorbing interest, to choose another subject of 
 conversation.” 
 
 Alas ! I blush now at such foolish arguments, but I was begin- 
 ning to find out that grief is never more intense, more dreadful, 
 than when it inspires you with arguments so absurd, as almost to 
 border on the ludicrous. 
 
 Once more the steps approached. 
 
 I fancied this time, that Ursula and Gontran were walking more 
 slowly and that every now amd then they stopped. 
 
 Gontran was saying in a soft and imploring voice — “ I entreat 
 you — that , that , at least ” 
 
 The footsteps stopped. 
 
 Ursula replied in an accent which seemed to me full of emotion. 
 
 “ Do not think of such a thing , it would be too 'painful. You do 
 not know all the tears vjhicli I have devoured since — But 1 am 
 really more mad than yourself you make me say what I should 
 wish not to say — you do not deserve — ” she added speaking hur- 
 riedly and walking with such rapidity that the end of the sentence 
 escaped me. 
 
 I felt my strength give way. 
 
 Mine was a horrible position. 
 
 I was distracted with the most horrible suspicions, and that 
 merely on account of some shreds of a dialogue, which had no 
 other meaning than what my insane jealousy attributed to them. 
 
 After these terrors came doubt, and then a ray of hope. Ad- 
 mitting that Ursula was base enough to aim at fascinating Gontran, 
 and I might think this without calumniating her, for had she not 
 already sacrificed her duties to a vulgar fool 1 admitting, I said to 
 myself, such base conduct, still he — Gontran — he to whom I had- 
 devoted my existence, to whom I had, up to that moment, given no- 
 thing but love and happiness, Gontran, for whose sake I had already 
 suffered so cruelly, could he ever have the courage, the barbarity to 
 forget me for her ? 
 
 “No, no, it is impossible,” I exclaimed “ I cannot have just 
 emerged from an abyss of sorrow and despair, but to fall back in an 
 instant, into another abyss and, a more profound one. No, no, it 
 is impossible, Gontran only arrived yesterday, and he goes away 
 again this morning. It is impossible that in an interview of an 
 hour he should have tried to please that woman, and that already he 
 should think of deceiving me, Ursula is very bold, but the worst of 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 370 
 
 women will keep up appearances ; then, in the midst of those rays 
 of hope, came harassing doubts ? all that Madame de Riche ville 
 had told me of the egotistical and light character of Gontran, re- 
 curred to my thoughts. Ursula appeared to me more and more 
 seducing and dangerous. If my husband were to meet her in Paris, 
 under pretext of our friendship could she not be continually with 
 me r 
 
 That idea, and the emotions I had suppressed for some moments 
 so completely overcame me, that without reflecting that I should, 
 betray my hiding place, where I had hitherto remained, I em- 
 merged into the alley-- Ursula and Gontran were far off at the other 
 end of it — 
 
 I saw Monsieur Secherin join them, and accompany them towards 
 the house. 
 
 I breathed more freely, and remained some time longer in the 
 garden. 
 
 By an inexplicable facility of impression, the moment Ursula had 
 disappeared ; calm re-entered into my heart, I was ashamed of my 
 weakness, I reproached myself for destroying the happiness, which 
 providence had sent me ; was I not going to Mar an alone with 
 Gontran ? the happiness which I had experienced at the Chalet de 
 Chantilly , was it not about to be renewed ? — the winter was yet far 
 off, if I dreaded the coquetry of Ursula with my husband, I could 
 find a thousand means to draw him away from it, and at last, if X 
 was driven to extremities, could I not tell Gontran of Ursula’s ad- 
 venture with M. Chopinelle, and then he could feel for her nothing 
 but contempt. 
 
 Before I quitted Rouvray I wished to take leave of Madame, 
 Secherin. I found her, calm, dignified, and collected, she held out 
 her hand to me, I kissed it with reverence. 
 
 “ This evening — said she — my son and that woman quit this house. 
 I shall live on in solitude expecting the return of my son — Yes” 
 continued she remarking my air of astonishment, “ the day will 
 come when my son will return to me, God has assured me so — he 
 will leave me on earth long enough to see my child very miserable, 
 but still to console him.” I was struck by the inspired manner in 
 which Madame Secherin pronounced these words, she added in look- 
 ing at me compassionately. 
 
 “ You are good and generous ; you are like me convinced that 
 that woman is guilty ; but you have not the courage to accuse her ; 
 if you had joined me in my accusations she would have been lost. 
 I do not reproach you for your clemency, on the contrary I shall 
 pray to God that she whom you have spared, may not one of these 
 days cause you much grief.” 
 
 “ What do you say Madame V cried I feeling all my fears return 
 
380 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ I tell you what the Good God inspires me to say— nothing 
 more — ” 
 
 ******* 
 
 Alas ! those words were but too prophetic ! 
 
 The moment of departure arrived. 
 
 Ursula embraced me with her accustomed tenderness ; my cousin 
 took leave of us with much cordiality. 
 
 N othing either in the looks or words of Gontran led me to suspect 
 that he quitted Ursula with regret, 
 
 We left that house, so peaceful when I entered it, but which had 
 since become the scene of such painful divisions. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 TIIE CHATEAU HE MARAN. 
 
 As we left Rouvray behind us, I felt myself less oppressed ; 
 I soon forgot, almost entirely, the painful agitations that I 
 had experienced, to think only of the happiness of finding myself 
 alone with my husband ; I had looked forward to this expedition 
 with delight, recollecting the tender words and the delicate atten- 
 tions with which Gontran had overwhelmed me when we set off for 
 Chantilly after my marriage. I imagined there was a great simi- 
 larity between those two periods of my life. And now for the 
 second time 1 was departing alone with Gontran for a protracted 
 residence in the midst of a tranquil and cheerful solitude. 
 
 This impression of happiness was so profound, this hope of mine 
 was so radiant a one, that it predominated over all my other 
 thoughts. I awaited with impatience Gontran’s first observation, 
 for he had been silent since our departure from Rouvray. 
 
 I found a thousand reasons in my heart, why that first observation 
 should be one of graciousness and kindness. I told myself almost 
 with satisfaction that my husband had reason to reproach himself 
 in some respects for his conduct towards me, and that he would now 
 expiate that conduct by those gentle flatteries, and those exquisite 
 attentions of which he possessed the secret. Suddenly M. de 
 Lancry gave two loud yawns, leant his head against one of the 
 cushioned sides of the carriage, and went to sleep without saying a 
 word to me. This indifference affected me very painfully at first, 
 and 1 was unable to restrain my tears, when I remembered the en- 
 chanting tenderness of which Gontran had been so prodigal towards 
 me, during our first journey. 
 
 I asked myself with sorrow, in what respect I had become less 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 381 
 
 deserving. Ought I not on the contrary to he still dearer to him ? 
 had I not already suffered much, very much, for his sake ? 
 
 To this painful emotion, other reflections succeeded. I was ashamed 
 of myself. I accused myself of selfishness and of a ridiculous and 
 romantic exaggeration. What could he more simple, more natural 
 than that very sleep for which I was mentally reproaching 
 Gontran ? Ought he to check or put any restraint upon himself 
 on my account ? was he not on the contrary, acting with a confidence 
 full of security ? 
 
 I wiped my eyes, and fixed them upon his features. His face had 
 already lost the mark of the fatigues, and the sorrows which formerly 
 gave to it so painful an expression. 
 
 He had never seemed to me more beautiful, beautiful I mean 
 with that delicate and charming beauty which lent such a fascina- 
 tion to his countenance ; and one of those half-smiles which always 
 announce a happy and tranquil slumber, gave an enchanting expres- 
 sion of winning raillery to his mouth. Twice his lips slightly moved 
 as if he were speaking. I listened with avidity, but could not 
 distinguish the words. 
 
 When I saw him sleeping thus in his calm and smiling beauty, 
 
 I felt happy in all the happiness which had fallen to his lot, de- 
 livered from the odious tyranny of M. Lugarto. Young, rich, and 
 loved by me with an idolizing affection, was there a man upon 
 earth more admirably endowed? Did he not unite in himself all 
 the advantages, all the conditions of mortal felicity ? While I 
 dwelt thus upon his qualities, I felt terrified for an instant, we 
 were to remain at Maran till the beginning of the winter, and this 
 long prospect of solitude was enchanting to me, but would it be 
 agreeable to Gontran ? I was beginning to distrust myself, and to 
 fear that I was not sufficiently pleasing to my husband. I had al- 
 ready suffered so much, that I no longer felt those impulses of 
 gentle and ingenuous gaiety with which the presence of Gontran 
 had once inspired me. I compared what I was before my marriage, 
 or during our happy residence at Chantilly, to what I was when we 
 arrived at Maran, and then in spite of myself I was again the prey 
 of foolish terrors. I fancied that I had become ugly, melancholy, 
 and pitiable, I asked myself if I still retained qualities sufficient to 
 please my husband during the long days which we were about to 
 spend in solitude ; then that conversation in the avenue, which I 
 had for a moment forgotten, recurred once moib to my thoughts. I 
 began to exaggerate my own imperfections, to disfigure my own 
 qualities, to envy the art and disposition of Ursula, to envy also 
 that countenance of her’s by turns so animated, so coquettish, so 
 touching in the expression of its melancholy, and its simplicity 
 Without indulging in unreasonable vanity, I knew that my features 
 were more regularly beautiful than my cousin’s, I knew that I pos- 
 
382 
 
 TILE ORPHAN. 
 
 sessed solid qualities, an honourable heart, an incontestable frank- 
 ness, an unbounded devotion to my husband, a devotion which had 
 already been tried and had never yet failed — I could not doubt 
 that Ursula was false and treacherous, and that she felt a profound 
 contempt for everything, that honourable and exalted minds re- 
 verence. 
 
 Well, when I thought that perhaps she pleased Gontran, I began, 
 to regret that I did not resemble my cousin. 
 
 Oh blasphemy ! I went so far as to despise the virtues which I 
 possessed, and to envy the vices which I had not. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! men do not know that in publishing certain pre- 
 ferences — they often degrade the most proud, the most generous 
 natures — they do not know that when one loves with passion, with 
 delirium, one wishes to please at any sacrifice, and at any cost, and 
 that however virtuous one may be, one sometimes blasphemes the 
 most noble qualities as useless and vain, when one beholds oneself 
 sacrificed to women, whose only weapons of seduction are hypocrisy, 
 audacity, and corruption ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 Then, as was always the case, after these fits of despair, and im- 
 placable humiliation, which I inflicted upon myself, came a species 
 of excitement of quite a contrary nature, a re-action, as it were of 
 insane pride. 
 
 I asked myself in what my cousin was comparable to me, what 
 securities of happiness she could have it in her power to confer 
 upon my husband — But I soon fell back into my former torments, 
 crushed as I was by the weight' of this horrible reflection — what 
 matters it, if he loves her as she is ? 
 
 ****** 
 
 During the journey Gontran was taciturn and absent ; I attri- 
 buted this to the political changes which had just taken place, and 
 to which perhaps he was not so indifferent as he was desirous of 
 appearing. 
 
 I had forgot to say that on our road we had heard of the revolu- 
 tion of July. 
 
 Little versed as I was in politics, I felt a deep and and respectful 
 compassion for that good old king, who was, doubtless, returning 
 for the last time to a land of exile, far from that France which he 
 had so much loved and which his family had watered with their 
 blood. I had always seen the people happy and tranquil, and those 
 who were illustrious by their personal qualities, enjoying advan- 
 tages equal, and often indeed superior to those of which the 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 383 
 
 highest of the aristocracy were in possession. I could not then 
 understand the profit and advantage of this social regeneration 
 which we were assured had just issued from the blood-stained bar- 
 ricades of 1830. 
 
 I was very impatient to arrive at Maran. 
 
 Blondeau had often told me that my mother had spent two 
 summers in this country-seat with me, and that she had accom- 
 panied her there when I was hardly two years old — my mother, 
 she added, had never been happier than in that solitude, where 
 she escaped from the malice of Mademoiselle de Maran, and from 
 the freezing indifference of my father. 
 
 I was delighted to know that the chateau had remained unin- 
 habited, these memories so precious to me would, I fancied, be thus 
 preserved more completely and more religiously. Blondeau was to 
 give me a thousand pieces of precious information about the apart- 
 ments which my mother had inhabited in preference, and about 
 the walks which she frequented from predilection. It was with a 
 feeling of religious interest that I approached that residence, which 
 for so many reasons was a sacred one to me. I fancied also that 
 once there, in that spot where everything spoke of my mother, 
 I should be under her invisible protection, that from the heaven 
 in which she now dwelt she would watch over her child and would 
 implore God not to inflict any fresh sufferings upon me. I had 
 several times been able to appreciate Gontran’s tact and delicacy, 
 I was confident, therefore, of seeing him share the veneration with 
 which that house inspired me. On leaving Rouvray I had written 
 to Blondeau to join me immediately at Maran. M. de Lancry, 
 when he passed by Paris, had already sent a portion of our estab- 
 lishment to that country-place, which was situated at some leagues 
 distance from Vendome. 
 
 It was a fine summer morning when we arrived. A long avenue 
 of venerable oaks led up to the front court. You had to pass over 
 two bridges thrown across the little river which bathed the walls of, 
 the chateau. The last structure was of brick, and consisted of a 
 spacious edifice with two large wings falling back on either side, in 
 the style of building which was the fashion in the time of Louis the 
 Thirteenth. Another bridge of stone led te the first court-yard, 
 which was closed by an iron railing running parallel to the principal 
 building. The vegetation around the chateau was magnificent, 
 oaks, Lombard poplars, and elders rose to an immense height, 
 vast meadows extended out of sight, and heavy looking woods 
 bounded the horizon. The steward, informed of our arrival by our 
 courier, waited for us at the castle gate , he led us through a long 
 gallery on the ground floor, filled with portraits. Six windows of 
 this immence place opened upon a moat filled by spring tides. 
 
384 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 which surrounded the Castle. Notwithstanding the heat of the 
 weather it felt almost cold in that spacious hall. The walls were 
 so thick that the port holes of the windows were five or six feet 
 in depth. 
 
 Impatient to look over the house, I offered, smiling, my arm to 
 Gontran, and said — 
 
 “ Come, come quickly, I am impatient to see it all again, though 
 I remember nothing. You have no idea how my heart throbs with 
 the thoughts of re-visiting the scenes where my poor mother lived. 
 And I, I must do the honors, I am so happy, so proud to have 
 you here. Oh !” continued I with a smile. u I am the Lady of 
 the Manor, you are in my dominions, and I shall overwhelm you 
 with the most tyrannical love.” 
 
 Instead of sharing my mirth, as I expected, Gontran replied with 
 an abstracted air in trying to smile and looking round him with 
 an expression of repugnance. 
 
 “ Entre nous, your manor appears to me in rather a ruinous con- 
 dition, my noble lady ; particularly if all the rooms are like this 
 one. It is a pity that my late avocations prevented my thinking 
 of sending an architect here ; but you, my dear friend, not that 
 I mean to reproach you, but why did you not do this ? You knew 
 in what a deplorable state the Castle was in.” 
 
 My husband had at first faintly smiled, he ended by speaking 
 almost crossly to me. 
 
 I looked at him with a painful surprise, and I answered him 
 gently. 
 
 Indeed, do you not remember that I was just as much upset as 
 yourself by all the trials which have overtaken us ; besides, you 
 know that I have been very ill, and it was impossible for me to 
 occupy myself with those arrangements. I thought that in — ” 
 
 “ Oh ! my God 1” said Gontran, interrupting me with impatience 
 -—I must tell you once again I do not reproach you, my dear, only 
 I regret that one of us did not think of the indispensible repairs 
 this house requires. Now it is of no use to go away. Thanks to 
 that cursed revolution one cannot travel any where, one cannot go- 
 to watering place. In a fortnight, perhaps, all Enrope will be at 
 variance, Paris will be insupportable. We must submit to remain 
 here. That is why I regret that we are so badly accommodated.” 
 
 “ It is for your sake that I am grieved at this want of comforts 
 my friend. As for me, I am so happy to be here with you that 
 I should find myself always contented.” 
 
 “ You are very good, my dear ! I am also very happy in sharing 
 this solitude with you ; I understand all the reasons which render 
 this habitation so dear to you ; but there is no reason why we 
 should be deprived of carpets and Venetian blinds — for I see none 
 at any of the windows, and this Castle has the appearance of a 
 lantern.” 
 
THE ORPHAN, 
 
 385 
 
 “ I am so sorry, my friend, but re-assure yourself, we will find 
 means to remedy that, by having some workmen from Vendome. 
 I will superintend and hasten them in their proceedings. My self- 
 love induces me to wish that Maran should be the most agreeable 
 residence in the world ; I only ask a little indulgence for all my 
 endeavours.” 
 
 “Workmen!” cried he with impatience, “ it wanted only that, 
 there is nothing so unsupportable to me as workmen ! and yet I 
 must make up my mind to it. Oh ! that will be very agreeable — 
 a pretty little distraction I shall have there.” 
 
 “ Gontran,” said I, quite saddened by the ill humour of my 
 husband, “ perhaps we exaggerate the deficiencies of this house, 
 we have yet only seen this gallery.” 
 
 “ Oh ! my God ! one may easily judge of the remainder by this 
 specimen, which is the post of honor — the saloon of reception — you 
 can see that the Steward has collected together here all the splendour 
 of the house,” added he, beginning to laugh with an air of con- 
 straint. Come, my dear friend, inspect your mansion — and try to 
 make the best of it till these workmen come — since we must sub- 
 mit to have them. As for me, I am going off to see the stables, 
 I lay a wager that they are without stalls or boxes ; and I, who 
 have just bought a dozen horses from England, that will be very 
 agreeable. In truth I hardly know what to think of your men of 
 business who could let this habitation fall into such a state of 
 delapidation.” 
 
 “ I am in despair about it, my friend, but I beseech you not to 
 be angry, give me your orders, and I will see them executed to the 
 best of my power.” 
 
 My submission, without doubt, appeased M. de Lancry ; he 
 regretted his impatience, and said to me, 
 
 “ Once more I tell you I do not blame you, my dear friend, you 
 could do nothing ; but if the stables are bad that will not be the 
 less disagreeable, the more -so because during the five or six mortal 
 months that we are going to spend here ; I shall have no other 
 pleasure but my horses and the chase — apropos, are we far from 
 Vendome 2” 
 
 “ I believe about six or eight miles.” 
 
 “ Better and better, that will be very convenient for our butcher’s 
 meat ; and as for fish, I suppose we shall have none ; it only wanted 
 bad fare to complete the thing. In truth, I cannot imagine how 
 your family could submit to live here.” 
 
 “ My father very seldom inhabited Maran — My mother only 
 passed some of her time at it, and you know that we women are 
 contented with little.” 
 
 “ I leave it to you, my dear, to feed upon reveries and imagina- 
 tions ? as for me, I confess to you that in the country I become 
 c c 
 
38G 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 very positive and very earthly-minded ; I ask pardon a thousand 
 times over, of your romantic exaltation, but when one has no other 
 pleasures but those of the table, I think it may be permitted to 
 to one to wish that there should be good cheer. Y ou will, therefore, 
 oblige me much if you will speak to your maitre dJ hotel to take 
 care to get the best of everything that can be got ; if he wishes it, 
 I will a waggon and two horses on purpose to go to Vendome to 
 get provisions, for I connot live on imagination — I look for the 
 solid — and so now I will go to the stables.” 
 
 Gontran went out. 
 
 This was our first conversation on arriving at the Chateau de 
 Maran. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 LIFE AT TEE CASTLE. 
 
 Sometime after our arrival at Maran, I began to feel weak and ill ; 
 I remained sometimes during an hour overcome by some unknown 
 cause. I soon discovered that I had made a great mistake, when I 
 hoped that Gontran would become again all that he had been to me 
 during the first month of my marriage ; his character seemed to be 
 soured in solitude — and yet the life he led appeared to be one that 
 pleased him. 
 
 Often in my presence he was pensive, and absorbed ; then I 
 used to imagine he was thinking of Ursula, at other times that he 
 regretted the sorrow his indifference caused me. 
 
 If I interrupted him in the midst of his reflections, he answered 
 me bitterly, or got up impatiently without saying a word, as if I 
 had disturbed him in the midst of some cherished reverse. What 
 gave me sometimes a ray of hope, wa3 the abrupt change in my 
 husband’s manner to me. Continued coldness would have frightened 
 me more, it would have been more natural. It was a fatal day, 
 the one that convinced me I was no longer beloved by Gontran ; 
 from that time he did not think it worth while to keep up the forms 
 of good society, or that respect and courtesy which all men owe to 
 women — even to their wives. 
 
 From that time all attentions ceased, he had no longer any ex- 
 pansion of heart, for me nothing that showed any desire or wish to 
 please me. A little insight into Gontran’s new existence is, however, 
 indispensable. 
 
 Since we had been settled at Maran, he had sent for hunters and 
 sporting dogs from England. He had hired one of the woods on 
 
;> ; * 
 
 
 <4 ! i 
 
 
 
oiLmdal B 
 
 b. at 
 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 387 
 
 the adjacent estate, he hunted three times a week, and the other 
 three days he went out with his gun. 
 
 He rested on the Sunday, it was the only day that he spent with 
 me. In general he went out after breakfast, and I never saw him 
 again until the evening, on his return from hunting. We sat down 
 to dinner; he lingered over it, spoke very little to me, drank 
 often and shall I confess it, alas ! he sometimes required 
 the assistance of some of the servants to regain his room, 
 which was contiguous to mine. I had always remarked that my 
 husband studied his appearance, that he was elegant to an extreme ; 
 when alone with me, he neglected his person. He appeared to live 
 but for hunting and for the pleasures of the table. What a shame ! 
 what a profanation ! As for me, I was no longer anything to him 
 but an instrument to answer the purpose of his coarse, and sensual 
 life. 
 
 For a long time I suffered in silence this desertion, this change 
 in his manners, which at least had hitherto been perfect. This 
 retired existence upon which I had built all my hopes left me 
 forlorn, faded, and sad. According to my usual habit, I concealed 
 my grief in my own breast, till it burst forth ; the day came that 
 I could bear it no longer, I resolved to speak to Gontran, to tell 
 him everything. 
 
 It was on a Saturday, there had been hunting the whole 
 of the day ; doubtless Gontran had been dissatisfied with his sport- 
 ing, for in the evening when he returned to the Castle, his huntsmen 
 did not sound their accustomed flourish. I knew from experience, 
 that on these occasions my husband was in an ill humour ; I went 
 timidly to meet him, my heart smote me when I heard his great 
 boots and spurs resounding upon the flag stones of the staircase. 
 
 You have not been successful in your sport, my dear ? said I — 
 
 No, I am harassed, said he, as he entered a little boudoir, where 
 I sat in preference to any other room, because my mother had oc- 
 cupied it ; M. de Lancry threw himself upon a couch, with an 
 anxious and weary countenance, and without speaking a single word. 
 
 His coat covered with mud, his hair in disorder, escaping from 
 his hunting cap which he kept upon his head. I should hardly 
 have known him ! He whom I had always seen so exquisitely 
 elegant. 
 
 “ My dear, let us have dinner as quickly as possible, I am very 
 hungry,” said Gontran, turning round upon the sofa ; then, putting 
 his feet upon a worked chair, he stretched his bespattered boots 
 upon it covered with mud. 
 
 “ Ah !” I exclaimed, running up to him, “ consider that chair, 
 it was worked by my mother ! take a stool I beg of you.” 
 
 Gontran shrugged his shoulders, took another chair, and said to 
 me — 
 
 c c 3 
 
388 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ My God ! how odd you are with all your affectations ; let me 
 ask you what has the memory of your mother to do with my feet 
 being upon that chair V’ 
 
 “ I am astonished, my love, that you cannot understand the 
 sacredness of recollections of the past — they are often the only 
 source of consolation for the present.” 
 
 “ Oh ! if you are going to enter into a metaphysical discussion, 
 
 I give it up — the life I lead here is but little fitted to develop 
 genius.” 
 
 “ In truth, for some time past, Gontran, you act up to that 
 doctrine, more, I think, than you can be aware of.” 
 
 “ Thank God ! for some time past I had been dreaming of a life, 
 quite earthly, in which the animal, as they say, should predominate. 
 Well, that same life, I lead it now, and it suits me wonderfully 
 well. It is not only those superfluities of elegance, those refine- 
 ments of my toilet that I have dispensed with. I was a perfect 
 Sybarite, now behold me a true Spartan, a bear, a savage, I find it 
 very convenient to be thus out at grass for some time — to remain 
 a rough chrysallis until it pleases me to emerge once more as a 
 brilliant butterfly. But pray ring the bell, I wish to tell Herbert 
 (who was our maitre d ’ hotel ) to put a bottle of the Rhine wine 
 into ice — that which you have is excellent, it is Johannisberg, as 
 yellow as amber. Where did your father get that wine V ’ 
 
 “ I think I have heard Mademoiselle de Maran say that the 
 Emperor of Austria made a present of it to my father when he 
 was with the embassy at Vienna.” 
 
 “ Faith ! your father was in the right not to forget that w r ine 
 here, for it is perfection.” 
 
 I rung — my husband gave his orders ; he yawned and said — 
 
 “ Play to me, on your piano, the overture to the Siege of Corinth, 
 while we are waiting for dinner.” 
 
 I looked at Gontran with sorrow. 
 
 Without doubt he did not remember that that opera was the 
 one which we heard, the evening, that for the first time I found 
 myself alone with him in the lobby ; if he had not forgotten that 
 circumstance his request was a bitter sarcasm ; the tears came into 
 my eyes against my will ; I said, sadly — 
 
 “ Forgive me, I cannot play that piece.” 
 
 “ Is it because I have asked you ? well then, do as you like, play 
 me any other, I only asked you in order to kill time while we were 
 waiting for dinner.” 
 
 “ To kill time ! it is then a burthen to you now, Gontran ? 
 
 “ To me — not at all ! I kill it nevertheless. Life never passed 
 on more quickly with me — I had no idea before of that state of 
 existence called a country gentleman’s life. I find it quite ad- 
 mirable — I know not if it will continue to amuse me much longer, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 389 
 
 but up to the present moment I am enchanted with it. Hunting 
 has become a perfect passion with me, my huntsmen are excellent — 
 I seldom have a blank day — Thomas is a perfect cook. Thanks to 
 some repairs the stables are now in very tolerable order, we are 
 pretty comfortably established in this old castle ; you are always 
 as beautiful as an angel, why then should my time weigh upon me ?” 
 My husband said this with so much sincerity, he appeared to 
 think his own conduct so simple and natural that, evidently, he 
 did not imagine he was causing me any vexation ; this reflection 
 soothed the bitterness of my reproaches. 
 
 I looked at Gontran attentively, and said with emotion, 
 
 “ And I, Gontran, do you think I am happy T 
 Half reclining on the sofa, he answered me negligently, tapping 
 his boots with the end of his whip. 
 
 “ You — yes by my faith, very happy, at least as happy as you 
 can be with your devil of a disposition. What can you want 
 more ?” 
 
 “ Nothing, you are right, Gontran. I see you in the morning 
 at the breakfast hour — then in the evening at table — -sometimes 
 an hour or two on the Sundays — when you make me add up the 
 list of game you have killed in the week.” 
 
 “ Well, what would you more you would not wish me to be 
 continually pinned to your apron strings. Believe me, those 
 eternal tete a tetes would soon bore you to death.” 
 
 “ I had asked you, love, to let me go out riding with you, by 
 this means I might sometimes have shared your hunting expedi- 
 tions.” 
 
 “ Pooh — pooh, you ere too great a coward, my dear, and besides 
 there is nothing so tiresome as a woman out hunting — she takes 
 no pleasure in the thing herself, and prevents other people from 
 taking any. If I had any one to whose care I could entrust you— 
 well and good, but We have not got one neighbour fit to be seen 
 with, and besides you will not see anybody ; you are quite a little 
 savage in your love for solitude.” 
 
 “ I should be delighted, my love, to go out riding with you — 
 but only with you .” 
 
 “ Then, as I told you before, the thing is out of the question. 
 How fantastic you are, my poor Matilda. You always wish for 
 unreasonable things.” 
 
 “ You are right, do not let us mention it any more. I am the 
 happiest woman in the world. My felicity ought to suffice me.” 
 And I put my handkerchief to my eyes. 
 
 Gontran considered the answers he had made me perfectly 
 natural and not in the least offensive, he, therefore, appeared as much 
 surprised as annoyed at seeing me weep. 
 
 “ Come, come !” he said impatiently, “ what is the matter with 
 
390 
 
 THE ORPHAN’. 
 
 you % We are engaged in a quiet conversation, and all of a 
 sudden you burst into tears ! What is it all about ? Do you want 
 to have a sceDe T 
 
 “ A scene ? no, Gontran, no, I have nothing to say to you, 
 since, you do not perceive the contrast which exists between 
 the life we are now leading, and that which we led at Chantilly.” 
 
 “ Ah ! there we are again — Chantilly, Chantilly, always ! You 
 have only that word in your mouth to reproach me with. Do you 
 know that by constantly dinning that into my ears, you will end 
 by making me shudder at the very remembrance of that enchanting 
 honeymoon.” 
 
 And he added, laughing at the joke. 
 
 “ How can it be helped, my dear ! Poor honeymoon ! it lived 
 as long as all honeymoons do live .” 
 
 “ Ah ! Gontran ! do not destroy the only happy reminiscences 
 which remain to me.” 
 
 “ Well then, do not be for ever repeating the same thing, let 
 us reason together as friends, without getting angry ; do you think 
 1 married you to pass my life at your knees, saying soft things to 
 you % you are never content ; if we live in society you are jealous ; 
 if we live alone you are exigeant — which becomes at last so tiresome, 
 that one can bear it no longer. 
 
 “ Gontran, you have no pity, you forget how much I have suf- 
 fered, and that I have a right to some consideration.” 
 
 “ Oh ! my God ! my God ! what a disposition ! Is this meant 
 as recrimination % You say you have suffered so much, if it is on 
 account of Lugarto that you say so, you are wrong.” 
 
 “ I am wrong.” 
 
 “ Certainly — I can only repeat what I have already said to you 
 on that subject ; if you had had the least tact or address, by some 
 slight favors granted to him, you might have got on with him with- 
 out compromising us as you hav donee.” 
 
 “ Without compromising myself — my God ! you consider it then 
 my fault.” 
 
 “ Well, never mind ; whether it is your fault or mine ; you have 
 been compromised ; and it is I, who, sooner or later, must bear the 
 ridicule of it.” 
 
 “ I— I shall be blamed, I T 
 
 “ Yes, madame. Do you think it will be very agreeable to me 
 on our return to Paris to be pointed at as a deceived husband % 
 but, in truth, you must be mad to provoke this discussion ; let us 
 break it off ; you will make me say something so harsh, that you 
 will burst into reproaches, and sobs ; and I wish rather that we 
 should both sit quietly down to dinner.” 
 
 “ What you say now is horrible,” replied I after a moment of 
 
TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 30 
 
 3tupor, " it is I whom you blame. I who am the victim of all the 
 calumnies of that man. No, Gontran, I know not what may 
 happen in future, but for this evening you are safe from any 
 scene of tears and sobs, you may dine quietly. I have cried so 
 much that my tears are all exhausted, my misfortunes have brought 
 me to reason, I shall not reproach you, that would be useless : I 
 will say that I suffer, and am resigned, though not insensible to 
 your indifference.” 
 
 “ Say no more, said M. de Lancry, getting up hastily, and walk- 
 ing up and down the room with quick steps. I did all I could to 
 turn it off in joke, I could not escape a scene. This morning I had 
 bad hunting, the close of the day will be worthy of the beginning. 
 You know, nevertheless, that I have but one wish, that of living 
 in peace and seeing you happy.” 
 
 “ I will thank you to listen to me, Gontran : well then, I must 
 tell you that ever since we have been here you have bestowed no 
 word of tenderness on me, you live with me as if unconscious of 
 my existence.” 
 
 “ Why, in the name of Heaven, what does all this jargon signify ? 
 what do you wish me to say to you 1 if you are so fond of com- 
 pliments why do you not inspire them ?” 
 
 “ You are right ; for some time past I have been impressed with 
 this sad truth : c we deserve what we inspire ,’ notwithstanding all 
 your harshness, I love you always, you deserve my love.” 
 
 “ Well then, be reasonable, since neither you or I can alter the 
 state of affairs,” said Gontran with less anger, then he added. 
 
 “ Really your romantic disposition will render you the most un- 
 happy of women, be reasonable then. I have told you a hundred 
 times that people do not marry to pass all their time in studying 
 the verb ‘ to love,’ one marries to have a house, an easy existence, 
 to live without gene whenever you are alone with your wife. It is 
 evident that if one married to continue paying one’s court it would 
 be better to remain a bachelor.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Gontran — Gontran. What a confession.” 
 
 “ You will thank me one of these days for destroying your 
 imaginative reveries, one must be severe sometimes, it is the part 
 allotted to us men. It is our duty to speak it to you, I am de- 
 termined not to leave any foolish delusions on your mind j and 
 once seeing things as they really are, you will know how to make 
 up your mind to the reality which is before you. 
 
 “ That is true, Gontran ; my delusions once dispelled, I shall 
 make up my mind to the reality that is before me, but it will be 
 for eternity.” 
 
 “ What threats of death now ? really this is a most gay and 
 agreeable conversation, and after this you complain if I am sullen ; 
 on my return, instead of finding you with a smiling, happy 
 
392 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 countenance, I find you sad and gloomy ; acknowledge there is 
 nothing in that to render me amiable.” 
 
 “ It is true — my soul is desolate, I can no longer conceal it from 
 you,” said I with bitterness, for the light, ironical tone which 
 Gontran affected, wounded me still more than his harshness, 
 there is nothing I can imagine more irritating than to witness 
 the tears which we ourselves cause to flow, but that is not my 
 fault, I can no longer, as I used to do, smile at every wound.” 
 
 “ Very well then, I must make up my mind to see you always 
 in j>tears ; what would you have me do ? Can I prevent your 
 believing yourself to be the most unhappy of women.” 
 
 “ Gontran, for Heaven’s sake, be just — what is my life 1 what 
 are you to me ? or rather what am I to you h ‘ Good morning,’ 
 
 4 Good night.’ 4 My day’s sport has been good or bad.’ ‘ Play 
 me that air on your piano,’ this is all you ever address to me, 
 Gontran — this is my life, and yet you expect that I should en- 
 liven you, that I should be smiling and joyous. Is it possible ? 
 Alas ! it was your love which caused my gaiety before.” 
 
 “ At last, here is dinner,” said Gontran, hearing the bell. “ I 
 would much rather sit down to table, than answer you, because 
 you will end by exasperating me, and I should be very sorry for 
 that, to attempt to discuss this subject with you is like fighting 
 against the wind.” 
 
 The dinner was announced. 
 
 “ Will you come ? said Gontran to me. 
 
 “ Excuse me, I am not hungry, I am suffering 1” 
 
 “ That is agreeable, and above all it has a good appearance to the 
 servants-—” said Gontran, “ however as you will, my dear.” 
 
 He left me and went to dinner. 
 
 ***** * * 
 
 After the departure of my husband, I went into my room and 
 burst into tears. Nothing could soften him, I felt certain of that, 
 he had not even an idea of the sufferings he caused me, he saw 
 nothing in my complaints but a romantic imagination — all hopes of 
 pity from him were for ever lost to me. 
 
 Notwithstanding his egotism, notwithstanding his selfishness he 
 would not have been absolutely insensible to my sufferings if he 
 could have understood them. 
 
 “ If I do not address you in the same tender language as I used 
 to do, it is because you no longer inspire it” he said to me, 
 
 This was one of those crushing truths which rose up between me 
 and hope like a stone wall. In my despair I had not known how 
 to reply to that sentiment, alas ! I was hardly eighteen — and life 
 was before me — my whole life. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 393 
 
 And then I said to myself that perhaps this was but the beginning 
 of my sorrows, that I had been wrong to complain, my unhappiness 
 was but negative, comparing it with past happiness — perhaps in the 
 sad days which were yet to come I might learn how much more I 
 could be made to suffer. 
 
 I searched the depths of my heart, I asked myself if after all 
 these cruel trials my love for Gontran was diminished — this last 
 conversation with him had wounded me so mortally, that I felt I 
 could deceive myself no longer. Alas ! I discovered with a sort of 
 bitter joy, that I loved him still, as much as ever, at present I can 
 hardly comprehend how I could entertain so obstinate an attachment, 
 it must have resulted from the conviction that Gontran still could if he 
 would , make me happy as I was before. This last hope to 
 which I clung, was sufficient to keep alive that fatal love. A mixture 
 of pride and self love persuaded me that I was still capable of in- 
 spiring Gontran with the same adorable tenderness that he had felt 
 for me before, but that skill in managing it, was what I wanted. 
 
 I can only account for my infatuation by remembering that pas- 
 sion is blind, and I gave a proof of it, in persisting in my admiration 
 for a man, who loaded me with insults, neglect, and ingratitude. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 A GOOD WORK. 
 
 The reflections that I made after this sad conversation with my hus- 
 band, were not useless, I thought that perhaps the want of some 
 continued occupation, rendered me so susceptible of all impressions 
 — I renounced for ever and I confess with bitter tears, the idea, that 
 my love could be the only, and constant occupation of my life, soon 
 I went further still, in consequence of my constant habit of finding 
 excuses for Gontran, I reproached myself for concentrating all my 
 existence in that affection : I said to myself that God perhaps was 
 punishing me for such selfishness. 
 
 As soon as that idea took possession of my mind, I believed my- 
 self saved, the past appeared to me under a new aspect, I under- 
 stood how much the exaggerated romance of my feelings must have 
 annoyed Gontran, I felt that a woman had other duties to fulfil here 
 below, besides loving ; or rather that instead of lavishing the store 
 of love that is in us, on one only, and adored object, we should 
 rather bestow it around us on all who suffer in the same manner, as 
 we testify our love to God by shewing pity and tenderness to those 
 who claim it from us. 
 
 When that thought occurred to me, it appeared like an 
 
394 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 inspiration from on high. I awaited the return of Gontran 
 with impatience. 
 
 Doubtless my countenance betrayed my joy and my hopes, for on 
 seeing me he said. 
 
 “ My God ! you have a very joyous air.” 
 
 “ My dear I have made to-day a valuable discovery.” 
 
 “ How so ?” 
 
 “ I have discovered you were in the right when you scolded me, 
 that I was wrong to be so romantic and exalted, as you reproached 
 me with being, in a word, that my love for you was shewn inju- 
 diciously, I have discovered now that it is not sufficient for me to 
 say “ Gontran I am worthy of you, but that I must prove it to you 
 otherwise than by protestations every day.” 
 
 “ What do you mean Matilda ?” 
 
 “ Yes I can understand now, how much my continued complaints 
 must have irritated you ; neither shall you find me sad and cross 
 on your return home, I will be always as I am to-day, happy and 
 smiling !” 
 
 “ So much the better, a thousand times better ; but why this 
 alteration ?” 
 
 “ Oh I have grand projects.” 
 
 “ Grand projects which are to render you happy and smiling ! 
 tell me quick what they are.” 
 
 “ You know well the little Castle (it was rather a large house 
 which belonged to the Chateau de Maran , and where in my 
 father’s time he lodged those guests for whom he had not room iu 
 the castle) “ you know well the little Castle” — said I to Gontran. 
 “ Well what then V 
 “ It is completely useless to us.” 
 
 “ How useless ? It is there that I keep my harness and saddles, 
 and where all my hunting people lodge.” 
 
 “ When you know to what purpose I destine that little castle — ” 
 said I smiling — “ I am sure that you will agree with me that your 
 harness, saddles, and hunting establishment, will do perfectly well 
 in some of the offices which are unoccupied.” 
 
 M. de Lancry looked at me with astonishment and said to me. 
 
 “ What — you are thinking of dislodging my people from the 
 little Castle — you must be in joke.” 
 
 “ I am not I assure you.” 
 
 “ Well then let us speak of this no more my dear, it is impos- 
 sible for me to have them any where else but in the little Castle, 
 the garden adjoining it, is excellent for exercising the young dogs 
 — the old kennel is very damp, and has nothing but a little dark 
 court attached to it ; so you must perceive I could never consent to 
 that exchange.” 
 
 “ Do you know my dear I am almost glad that you cling to that 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 39 5 
 
 Castle so much for your amusements, your part will be still more 
 meritorious than mine in the good work that I am projecting, for 
 you will have a slight sacrifice to make, and I shall have nothing but 
 pleasure in it.” 
 
 My husband appeared much surprised. 
 
 “ A good work ! — a sacrifice — oh my dear do not speak in enig- 
 mas, what does all this mean 
 
 “ It means that I have an excellent idea which you will thank me 
 for as soon as I have told it you ; I intend to found on the ground 
 floor of the little Castle a school for young girls ; on the first floor 
 I shall have some beds placed for poor sick women, three or four 
 dood sisters will be sufficient for that small establishment, which 
 will be under my superintendence, and it will bring us blessings 
 from all the unfortunate in the neighbourhood — I shall teach the 
 children myself, they shall have halt the garden to play in, and the 
 other half shall be devoted to the poor convalescent women, will 
 you say now that your dogs will be badly off* elsewhere 1” 
 
 M. de Lancry burst into a fit of laughter which disconcerted me, 
 he said 
 
 “ I think the idea is very original, there is no one but you, my 
 dear, who could have conceived it.” 
 
 “ How !” 
 
 “ What seriously you think that I will be bothered with beggars 
 and children, have my head distracted by the crying of brats, and 
 my sight shocked by infirm old women.” 
 
 c Why my dear, the little Castle is far enough from us, neither 
 to hear or see them.” 
 
 16 Come, come, you are a spoilt child, a little fool,” said my hus- 
 band with a sang froid which wounded me, “ but speak no more 
 of such childishness, what ! for the pleasure of playing at school 
 mistress and Lady Bountiful, you would seriously think of dis- 
 placing my people and my dogs who are completely established 
 there.” 
 
 “ But my dear — ” 
 
 “ Tell me you little capricious one, how such strange fancies 
 could come into your head ; tell me frankly T 
 
 “ Well Gontran,” exclaimed I, feeling my eyes fill with tears, for 
 I was far from expecting such sarcastic remarks ; I will tell you how 
 that idea came into my head, 1 have acknowledged that you were 
 right in blaming me for dwelling without ceasing on my love and 
 tenderness for you, and I have thought that without loving you 
 less, I might take some better means of proving it ; I believed this 
 would be the means of testifying my affection, for it is the wish of 
 rendering myself more worthy of you which has inspired me with 
 this resolution — this is how the idea came in my head Gontran.” 
 
 “ Without doubt, the end is praiseworthy, my dear, and I can 
 
396 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 imagine that you must require some distractions, but I confess to 
 you that as you have associated me in your good works, I would rather 
 chuse some other time to work out my salvation.” 
 
 “ But my dear — ” 
 
 “ Come now, I beg of you, Matilda, to say no more about this — 
 if you were a different character I should think you must have been 
 in joke.” 
 
 “ I am speaking seriously, Gontran, and it is seriously that I beg 
 of you to grant my request ?” 
 
 “ Seriously Matilda ? are you mocking me 1 ” 
 
 “ Gontran ! what a question ! and why ! because I wish to 
 associate you with a good and useful action !” 
 
 M. de Lancry shrugged his shoulders with impatience, and said 
 to me drily. 
 
 “ I have done all I could to turn off the idea in a joke ; but if 
 you force me to speak plainly, I tell you for the last time that what 
 you ask of me is impossible, you hear me, completely and entirely 
 impossible — I hope this is clear enough and that you will avoid the 
 subject in future.” 
 
 For the first time in my life I rebelled against the will of M. de 
 Lancry, I said firmly “ I regret much that we are not agreed on 
 that subject my dear, but my project is a practicable one, I am 
 very desirous it should be accomplished, and it shall be so.” 
 
 My husband regarded me with an air, in which surprise predo- 
 minated more than anger, and said with an ironical smile. 
 
 “ Am I master here or not ?” 
 
 “ You are the master, my dear, I shall not dispute your tastes, 
 leave me the same liberty with mine.” 
 
 “ Pash ; how you run on, so what ! I should leave you at liberty 
 to throw away eight or ten hundred a year, or even more, for the 
 gratification of a fancy which comes into your head, for you have 
 no idea to what an expense that charitable mania would put you, 
 to which you have so suddenly adopted — but really I am foolish even 
 to answer you !” 
 
 ” If it is considerations of the expense that distresses you my- 
 dear, do not let that weigh with you, I will economise from my 
 monthly allowance and — ” 
 
 “ But I will not hear of such a thing my dear, I wish that you 
 should appear with the elegancies which our fortune and position 
 require, do you think that in order to let you teach brats their A. 
 B. C. or to distribute drugs to old women, I shall allow you to dress 
 ridiculously shabby — I wish that Madame de Lancrv should be reck- 
 oned one of the most elegant women in Paris ; you are one of the 
 most charming of my luxuries.” 
 
 There was so much egotism, so much dryness in the manner in 
 which my husband made his objection, he shewed so little sympathy 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 397 
 
 for the pious and noble feelings which had dictated my request, 
 that I was indignant. 
 
 For the first time also I remembered that after all I was in my 
 own house, that of my father’s, and that without any injustice I 
 might spend in charity, a small portion of that fortune which my 
 husband wasted in prodigality. I therefore answered M. de Lancry 
 after a long silence. 
 
 “ You must excuse my not being of your opinion with regard 
 to that school, and — ” 
 
 Gontran stamped with rage and cried, 
 
 “ What ! after all that I have said to you, you have sworn 
 then to drive me mad, you cannot have heard what I have 
 said to you, I tell you that I will not allow it — that I will not 
 allow it, how many times must I repeat that T 
 
 I could restrain myself no longer, and I replied, 
 
 “ Well then, I say that I will !” 
 
 “ You will ! this is^ something new, God forgive me, you say 
 you will, I think T 
 
 “ Yes, for I am tired of always suffering and always giving way, 
 this language is new, it astonishes you, I can imagine it, Gontran, 
 but this time I will not give up, what I propose is just and 
 reasonable, and I will accomplish it.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Ah ! you will accomplish it, and how ? please to tell me 
 by what means 1 to whom will you address yourself to force me 
 to do, what I will not do. Come, answer me, before aiming at 
 such extremities, at such threats ; without doubt you had assured 
 to yourself the means of accomplishing your end. Once more, 
 answer me V’ 
 
 I was dumb. I could not find a word to say to my husband. 
 Instinct told me that the laws and customs of society would take 
 the side of M. de Lancry against me. 
 
 Before, however, renouncing all hope, I resolved to make a last 
 effort in addressing myself to the heart and generous feelings of 
 Gontran. 
 
 “ Doubtless, I cannot force you to do what I wish, my dear, 
 but I may ask it of you as a favor, do not put an ill construction 
 on what I am going to say, but your refual obliges me to speak in 
 this manner — and,” I added, I confess with trembling, and 
 reddening with shame, “this house belonged to my father, and — ” 
 
 “ If this is an indirect manner of making me feel that you 
 brought the greatest part of the wealth that we enjoy,” replied M. 
 de Lancry with the greatest sang f void, “ the reproach is a delicate 
 one, and made in good taste, but it affects me but little ; for a long 
 time I have been expecting it, it is sure to come, one day or 
 another, it is the habitual refrein of women, when a husband 
 prudently and firmly resists their whims. Very well, madame, 
 
3D8 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 whether this house belonged to your father or not, whether the 
 fortune we enjoy came from your side or mine, it is of no conse- 
 quence ; once for all remember that we are married, and that 
 you have given me such power, that it belongs entirely to me 
 to regulate the employment of our wealth ; you understand now, 
 on me alone it depends whether you incur these expenses or 
 not, I ask your pardon for entering into these domestic details, 
 but 1 hope, once for all, to be perfectly understood, and that will 
 spare you the pain of asking impossibilities, and me the pain of 
 refusing them. In truth if one did not take care, you would 
 make a pretty employment of your money — six months ago it was 
 a house at Chantilly that you wished to buy under the pretence 
 that you had passed some happy days there,” 
 
 “ Ah ! Gontran,” I exclaimed, unable any longer to contain my 
 tears, stop — this is frightful, you are become inaccessible to pity ! 
 at least, in times past, your harshness used to be followed by 
 returns of tenderness and goodness, at least you were sorry for 
 the pain you gave me — but now — nothing — nothing of the sort, 
 not a single word of consolation. Alas ! I understand why ; in 
 former times you were unhappy, the future made you uneasy, you 
 knew then what sorrow was, and that softened you.” 
 
 “ Reproaches ! reproaches ! for ever reproaches !” said Gontran, 
 raising his eyes to heaven. His voice appeared to me less angry —I 
 began to hope I had softened him. 
 
 “ Gontran” I cried — “ perhaps my reproaches are bitter — but be 
 just — putting aside some few and rapid days of happiness — say — 
 pray say — have I not been the most unhappy of women ? think of 
 my infancy, my sad and troubled youth — now let me ask you, for- 
 getting who I am, and considering me only as a stranger tell me — 
 tell me should I not inspire you with pity.” 
 
 I fell back into an arm chair hiding my face in my hands, not 
 able to say another word. 
 
 “ Calm yourself, — said M. de Lancry approaching and sitting 
 down next to me, “ you are a foolish little creature, you have so 
 romantic a disposition that you exaggerate every thing in the worst 
 light. Because from prudence I refuse to sanction your strange 
 projects, generous if you will ! but still impracticable, you get angry 
 — you go to extremities.” 
 
 “ My God ! if you did but know the thoughts which occasioned 
 me to desire to enter on that good work,” said I to Gontran “ you 
 would comprehend my anxiety to accomplish it.” 
 
 “ I understand it all my love. But come let us talk rationally. 
 You want to spend a large sum of money, in order to set up your 
 school and hospital. This is doubtless a noble and pious occupation 
 which you are desirous of entering upon— well and good-- but is 
 it wise, or even humane to habituate these poor people to the en- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 399 
 
 joyment of benefits which it is possible may be only ephemeral in 
 their duration V 
 
 “ I assure you love, that I shall never be weary of doing good.” 
 
 “ And yet there are a thousand circumstances under which you 
 must find it impossible. To mention merely one, it is not at all 
 impossible that I may sell this place some day or other.” 
 
 “ Sell this place !-good God ! And why V’ 
 
 “ The place is worth more than a million of francs, and does not 
 bring me in more than twenty thousand livres a year, after deduct- 
 ing taxes and the sums required for repairs. The house is an 
 incommodious one, the farms are scattered about, in short it is a 
 very stupid place after all, well then ! if we sold Maran for a 
 million of francs, and placed the money in the funds, or in the 
 bank of France, it would bring us in an annual income of fifty 
 thousand livres instead of twenty thousand which it hardly pro- 
 duces now.” 
 
 “ Sell Maran ! you cannot think of it — the place has belonged 
 to our family for so long a period, my mother inhabited it,—” 
 
 “ You must confess that all these chimerical advantages are not 
 worth the sacrifice of thirty thousand livres a year.” 
 
 “ But why do we require so much money ? can we not live upon 
 what we already possess V* 
 
 “ Child !” said Gontran in an accent of sarcastic pity “ you 
 understand nothing about business, one never can have too large an 
 income. You have no idea what an establishment costs to keep up 
 and besides I intend to receive a great deal of company at Paris 
 this winter, and to give most sumptuous entertainments, I am re- 
 solved to prove that the revolution of July has not knocked us up, 
 as people believe it has done.” 
 
 “ But seriously my love, you do not think of selling Maran ! I 
 implore you, do not do that, I have already become attached to 
 this place.” 
 
 “ It is for that very reason that it will be better to get rid of it 
 before your attachment has become stronger.” 
 
 “ But my love, I should not wish — ” 
 
 “ Are we going to begin quarrelling again 1 do listen to reason. 
 How many more times must I tell you that the law gives me the 
 absolute, do you hear the absolute management of your property, 
 and that I can sell, buy, and dispose of your lands as I think proper ! 
 If I conceive it to be for our interests that this place should be 
 sold, I shall sell it. And I have so nearly come to that conclusion 
 that I cannot consent to your setting up those charitable establish- 
 ments here, when they would have to be given up perhaps before six 
 months. Let this be well understood, and I must now leave you, 
 I am going to see whether my dogs have fed well, for they have had 
 a hard day’s work of it to day.” 
 
400 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 And M. de Lancry left me alone. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 EMMA. 
 
 I was alarmed at what my husband had said about his intention of 
 selling Maran, and increasing his expenditure. I felt that I was un- 
 able to oppose his wishes in any respect, I remembered the warnings 
 of Madame de Richeville and M. de Mortagne concerning M. de 
 Lancry ’s extravagance, and I shuddered when I reflected that our 
 whole fortune was at his mercy. I was deeply pained at his refu- 
 sing what I asked for in order to found a charitable establishment, 
 but still I was not discouraged ; as I was unable to do good upon 
 the extended scale which I had proposed to myself, I resolved to 
 assist to the utmost of my power, the cases of misfortune which I 
 might meet with, and to seek in the accomplishment of these pious 
 duties, for some relief to my sorrows. 
 
 My poor Blondeau was a marvellous assistant to me, in this. 
 Thanks to the information I acquired from her, I was enabled 
 to succour several distressed families : God recompensed me, my 
 sadness instead of being bitter and heart-breaking, became melan- 
 choly and contemplative, I enjoyed a kind of tranquillity and 
 repose, and I comforted myself under the harshness or indifference 
 of my husband, by thinking of the grateful tears which some of 
 my benefits had elicited. I delighted in connecting Gontran with 
 these acts of charity. It was always in his name that I gave 
 alms, and I experienced a touching emotion when I heard our 
 two names blended in one common blessing. 
 
 Several days passed in this manner, my husband continued to 
 lead the same kind of life, and did not even seem to perceive the 
 change which had taken place in in me ; once only he said to me 
 — “ I see, with pleasure, that you have given up your foolish ideas. - 
 You are right, the more I examine this place the more convinced I 
 become that it will be an excellent thing for us to get rid of it.” 
 
 I had acquired sufficient experience in Gontran’s disposition not 
 to attempt any further resistance to his will, when I was aware 
 that I did not possess the means of inducing him to change it. 
 
 I accordingly made no other reply, but that he was at liberty to 
 act as he pleased ; but I wrote to M. de Mortagne to inform him 
 of my husband’s intention, and to ask him if I could in any way 
 oppose it. It was now about two months since we had left Ursula. 
 One morning, after my husband had gone out shooting, I received 
 by the post a letter from Rouvray. It was from M. S6cherin, who 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 401 
 
 wrote me word that, in accordance with the promise she had made 
 me, Ursula and himself would very shortly arrive to spend some 
 time with us at Maran. His factory was going on wonderfully 
 well, and his first clerk would be perfectly competent, to look after 
 the business during his absence. M. Secherin said he would not 
 let Ursula have the pleasure of writing to me and of announcing 
 this surprise. My cousin had added a few words in a postscript at 
 the end of the letter, merely repeating what M. Secherin had said 
 about her. 
 
 I read this letter over twice and could scarcely believe my eyes. 
 And yet nothing apparently could be more natural ; we had twenty 
 times over settled it with Ursula that she was to come and spend 
 some time with me, but then I looked upon her as a friend, a sister, 
 I remembered the few words which I had caught of Ursula’s con- 
 versation with Gontran, and which had given me such a lively 
 movement of jealousy, I shuddered when I reflected that my cousin, 
 while she was with us, would see my husband every day, I per- 
 suaded myself that she had settled this expedition to Maran, with 
 Gontran. My first impulse was to write to Madame Secherin, telling 
 her that we were about to leave Maran, and that we should conse- 
 quently be unable to receive her. But I did not dare to take this 
 resolution without previously acquainting my husband. I accord- 
 ingly resigned myself to wait till he returned from shooting. 
 
 Alas ! at this recrudescence of jealous feelings, I began to regret 
 the two months which had just elapsed. The sorrows which had 
 darkened them, were as nothing to those which I doubted not were 
 in store for me should my cousin come to Maran. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections I suddenly heard the sound of 
 post horses, and a carriage was driven into the yard of the chateau. 
 Thinking that Ursula, in order to prevent my refusing her offer, had 
 perhaps chosen to arrive at the same time as her letter, I ran to 
 the window. What was my astonishment at seeing madame de 
 Richeville, with a young girl whom I did not know, getting out of 
 the carriage ! For the first time the sight of the duchess did me 
 good, I fancied that Heaven was sending me a friend at the very 
 moment when I most required one. Experience had proved to me 
 that in coming honestly to tell me of Gontran’s faults, she had been 
 desirous of doing me an immense service, I reflected that in the diffi- 
 cult position in which I was placed by the approaching arrival of 
 Ursula, the counsels of M. de Mortagne’s friend might be a great 
 assistance to me. I was about to leave the drawing room in order 
 to go down and meet madame de Richeville when the latter entered 
 the room. 
 
 I thought her so changed from what she was when I had last 
 seen her, about three months ago, that I could not repi*ess a move- 
 
 D D 
 
402 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 ment of astonishment. She perceived it and said to me with her 
 sweet and enchanting smile. 
 
 “ You can scarcely recognise me, can you ? Oh ! I have been a 
 great sufferer. But let us talk of you — of you,” she added taking 
 both my hands in hers. 
 
 “ Maran was at no great distance from my road, so I went a little 
 out of my way to come and give you a look. And where is M. do 
 Lancry ?” 
 
 “ Out shooting, madame for the whole day.” I replied to madame 
 de Richeville. 
 
 Doubtless from the accent and look which accompanied these 
 words, the duchess guessed that I was delighted at this opportunity 
 of having a long conversation with her, and that I had some painful 
 secret to confide to her, she shook her head and gazed at me with 
 an expression of touching interest. But reflecting that she was not 
 alone, she said to me, pointing to the young person who accom- 
 panied her. 
 
 “ Allow me to introduce to you mademoiselle Emma de Lostanges 
 — my — relation,” added Madame de Richeville after a moment’s 
 hesitation. 
 
 I had not yet attentively examined this young girl. I was struck 
 with admiration. Although hardly fourteen years old, her graceful, 
 elegant and tall figure made her look sixteen. Her blue eyes were, 
 if I may use the expression, of a limpid and transparent azure, her 
 nose symmetrically straight and exquisitely chiselled, and her small 
 rosy mouth perfection itself. Her magnificent and slightly undulating 
 auburn hair, so luxuriant that in spite of its fineness it formed 
 behind her head an immense tress rolled round and round — 
 came down in bands on each side of her ivory forehead and cheeks 
 which were slightly tinged with colour. This enchanting counte- 
 nance of an oval somewhat long, realised the ideal of classic beauty. 
 Notwithstanding the extreme youth of Mademoiselle de Lostanges, 
 her features, her whole appearance, and her manner gave her a look 
 of serious candour, gravity tempered with mildness and noble sere- 
 nity, which was no less imposing than enchanting. Her glanee 
 especially had an expression of angelic mildness, that in spite of my- 
 self brought the tears into my eyes. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! — poor Emma ! my sad presentiments did not deceive 
 me — Those beings who are endowed with such perfections, that you 
 would believe them to be of a nature superior to our own, have 
 alone the privilege of those glances which reflect, if I may say so, 
 beforehand those celestial joys to the enjoyment of which they are 
 sometimes too soon snatched from earth. God does not leave his 
 angels long among men. 
 
 Emma — Emma — my friend — Oh thou who wert indeed my sister, 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 403 
 
 thou seest, thou hearcst me. Oh ! thou who passed like some divine 
 and holy vision through the existence of those who loved thee ! 
 
 * * * # * * * 
 
 I was so struck with the beauty of Mademoiselle de Lostanges, that 
 turning towards madame de Richeville I could not held whispering 
 to her. 
 
 “ Good God ! how beautiful she is ! how beautiful she is !” 
 
 Emma heard me, she dropped her long eyelashes, and her young 
 and fresh countenance became suffused with a vivid blush. 
 
 “ Is she not beautiful 1” involuntarily replied madame de Riche- 
 ville, in a tone of exulting pride. She then gave me an uneasy look, 
 and her pale and attenuated countenance was covered with blushes. 
 After a few moment’s silence she said to me. 
 
 “ Is your excellent Blondeau here ? 
 
 “ Yes certainly.” 
 
 “ Well then ! will you be kind enough to send for her ? I wish to 
 have some conversation with you, and during that time I will trust 
 Emma to her care so that she may take her to look at your park 
 which I hear is quite charming.” 
 
 I rang the bell and sent for Blondeau, who soon went away with 
 Mademoiselle de Lostanges. Madame de Richeville could not let 
 the latter leave the room without impressing a kiss upon her fore- 
 head. 
 
 “ Ah ! poor unfortunate girl !” exclaimed madame de Richeville 
 as soon as we were left alone “ I have heard everything ; your hus- 
 band owed money to that infamous Lugarto, and the latter abused 
 the dependent position in which M. de Lancry was placed with re- 
 spect to him ; in order to compromise your reputation frightfully 
 — a duel took place in which that wretch was wounded — ■” 
 
 These words of Madame de Richeville proved to me that she 
 knew nothing either of Gontran’s disgraceful action, or of the 
 scenes which had taken place at the isolated house. I was delighted 
 at M. de Mortagne’s discretion. It would have indeed been pain- 
 ful for me to be compelled to blush for my husband. 
 
 “ In truth madame, M. Lugarto did us as much harm as he 
 could, but thank God he is now out of France. But you yourself 
 also have suffered through his means have you not V 
 
 “ He inflicted upon me the greatest anguish which I have ever 
 experienced in my existence.” 
 
 “ Forgive me madame, forgive me — perhaps the interest you felt 
 in me has been the cause of his hatred of yourself V’ 
 
 “ Why should I deny it, my poor girl ! it is true — he knew 
 the lively friendship which attached me to M. de Mortagne, and 
 necessarily to you. He wanted to remove me to a distance and 
 
404 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 thus deprive you of a friend at the very moment when you had the 
 greatest need of her.” 
 
 “ And you have perhaps accused me — me the involuntary cause 
 of your sorrows.” 
 
 “ No, no, Matilda, alas ! I was so unhappy that on thereon trary 
 I have since reproached myself with having too seldom thought of 
 you in the midst of the misfortune which overwhelmed me — you 
 see Matilda, I am now but the shadow of my former self — I have 
 suffered so much, I have wept so many and such bitter tears !” 
 
 “ I dare not ask you — what has caused this terrible anguish.” 
 
 " Listen Matilda — May this mark of entire confidence which I 
 am about to give you elicit in turn your own. By your paleness — 
 by your melancholy and painful smile — I see it— Matilda — Matilda 
 you are not happy.” 
 
 I was silent and a tear rolled down my cheek. 
 
 Madame de Richeville clasped her hands vehemently together, 
 lifted her eyes to heaven, and looked at me with a melancholy shake 
 of the head as if to say to me. 
 
 “ Alas ! did I not warn you it would come to this?” 
 
 After a few moments’ silence she continued. 
 
 “ Really, my poor girl there is some touching charm about you 
 which inspires extreme confidence. Before your marriage I made 
 a very painful confession to you, in the hope that that confession, 
 humiliating as it was to me, would, if I may say so, serve as a 
 guarantee for the counsels and advice which I came to give you — 
 The consequence, Matilda, was what might be expected, your heart 
 was passionately attached, you did not, you could not believe me. 
 I do not say this to reproach you, on the contrary it is an excuse 
 which I find for a blindness which I myself have shared. In re- 
 lating to you what I am about to confide, Matilda — I hope to be 
 this time more fortunate — You will not conceal your sorrows from 
 me, I may have it in my power to be of service to you.” 
 
 “ Ah ! madame — how culpable, how cruel, was my conduct 
 towards you formerly !” I exclaimed moved by madame de Riche- 
 ville’s words. 
 
 She replied. 
 
 “ Cruel towards me ? no — but towards yourself, unhappy girl — 
 Come, take courage, do not despair, you see it is I now who give 
 you consolation, and hope.” 
 
 “ Hope !” I exclaimed with a sigh. 
 
 The duchess tenderly pressed my hands in her own. 
 
 “ Yes, hope — my counsels will give you a right to entertain that 
 sentiment, but in order that those counsels may be efficacious, I 
 must know everything. I will begin, and my example will persuade 
 you.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 405 
 
 u Do not doubt it madame, just now when I saw you arrive ; I 
 thanked God for having sent me a friend. Can I say so V 
 
 “ Yes, oh ! yes, say so indeed, nay call me a mother — for sorrow 
 has made me old indeed, and my heart is more tenderly devoted 
 to you than ever. Listen to me then. At that morning quadrille 
 party at the English embassy, M. Lugarto said these words to me. 
 ‘ Is it long since mademoiselle A Ibin went to the village of Borg, to 
 the house of farmer Anselm in Anjou ¥ It would be impossible 
 for me to explain to you how that man had discovered a secret of 
 the utmost importance to me — I was perfectly stupified at that 
 unexpected revelation. M. Lugarto requested an interview with 
 me for the next day. I granted his request, burning with anxiety 
 to know how far that man was acquainted with a secret, which I 
 fancied, to have been most faithfully kept. M. Lugarto came, he 
 said to me ‘ you are bringing up a- young girl under the name of 
 Emma de Lostanges.' 1 This was true — I turned pale — ‘ Mademoi- 
 selle Alb in is entrusted with her education .’ This was true also — 
 1 This young girl has hee7i for a month in the country , in Anjou, at 
 the house of farmer Anselm .’ This was true also — i I know who is 
 the mother — and who is the father of that young girl.' he added — 
 then, after having enjoyed my terror for an instant, he slowly added 
 these last words with an expression of infernal triumph t That 
 young girl has been in a dying state for the last three days — at this 
 moment perhaps she has ceased to exist j He then left the room 
 saying as he went. ‘ I will always treat as my bitterest enemies , 
 those who are friends of Mortagne, Rochegune, or Matilda. Now 
 that I know the mystery of Emma's birth, you know how I will 
 avenge myself, whether she dies or lives, which last is by no means 
 probable ' My first cry when I awoke from the kind of stupor 
 into which this revelation had thrown me, was to ask for posthorses. 
 I set off for Anjou that very evening. That fiend had not 
 deceived me, Emma was in a dying state.” 
 
 “ Good God ! Madame !” 
 
 “M. Lugarto had discovered through Mademoiselle Albin, a 
 miserable creature, whom he had bribed, the desperate state of the 
 unfortunate Emma, and had made use of this terrible intelligence 
 in order to get me away from Paris. I might be an obstacle to his 
 perfidious designs upon you, and my being with Emma would be a 
 proof to confirm the veracity of his denunciations. His treacher- 
 ous plots were admirably calculated. I was weeping at the bed- 
 side of Emma, who was then almost at the last gasp, when my 
 husband arrived. A separation had tacitly existed between us for 
 several years, which M. de Richeville’s conduct on this occasion will 
 clearly prove to you — ‘ That is your daughter — ’ he said to me. 
 Alas ! at that moment when about to see that angel descend into 
 the tomb, I dared not, I would not lie, broken as I was by despair 
 
400 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 and by remorse for a fault which God was punishing with such a 
 fearful chastisement.” 
 
 “ What !” I exclaimed, interrupting Madame de Richeville. 
 
 “Emma !” 
 
 “Emma — is my daughter,” replied the Duchess, dropping her 
 eyes with confusion. 
 
 I could not restrain a movement which Madame de Richeville 
 took for a reproach ; she hastened to add. 
 
 “ Oh ! do not condemn till you have heard me. Doubtless I am 
 guilty — very guilty — but if you knew — I will tell you all — and you 
 will pity me — I am sure you will. After this confession, M. de 
 Richeville said to me at the bedside of that expiring girl, “ I have 
 squandered all my fortune, you have still left an income of a hundred 
 thousand livres a year, give me a million of francs, or I will com- 
 mence a suit against you for a separation ; and will make a most 
 horrible scandal. I have in my possession all the letters which prove 
 that Mademoiselle de Lostanges is your daughter, that she was 
 born during my absence in Italy. Nor is this all, I have also all 
 the letters that you wrote to M. de Lancry.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Madame,” I exclaimed, blushing deeply, “ it is M. Lugarto 
 only, who abusing the influence he possessed over my husband forced 
 him to deliver up the letters.” 
 
 “ I do not doubt it. I believe M . de Lancry incapable of having 
 voluntarily committed so infamous an action. What can I say, 
 Matilda ? distracted, half mad with grief, terrifiel at the threatened 
 exposure of a law suit which would dishonour me, of a law suit which 
 would deliver up to the sarcasms of the world a memory sacred in 
 my eyes — the memory of Emma’s father.” 
 
 “ He is not alive then, madame V 
 
 “No, he has been dead these six years.” said Madame de Riche- 
 villo, pressing her hands to her forehead with painful emotion. She 
 then continued. 
 
 “With so many reasons to dread the scandal with which M. de 
 Richeville menaced me if I refused to comply with his wishes, I 
 consented to every thing. With admirable foresight,” added the 
 Duchess with a bitter smile, “ my husband had brought one of his 
 agents with him ; the acts were all duly prepared. There, close to 
 my daughter’s bed, I signed the deed which deprived me of half my 
 fortune. In exchange for this donation, M. de Lancry ’s letters, 
 and those which related to the birth of Emma were restored to me 
 and thank God my husband is now without any weapons in his power 
 against me.” 
 
 “ Oh ! how miserably base,” I exclaimed, “to come and dictate 
 such conditions near a death bed !” 
 
 “And now, Matilda,” said Madame de Richeville. “ I have con- 
 fessed to you the only two errors which I ever committed. Many 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 407 
 
 scandalous adventures have been attributed to me, and yet before 
 that God of sovereign goodness, who restored my daughter to me, 
 I swear to you, Matilda — never did I give reason for the calumnies 
 which have overwhelmed me. I do not pretend to deny my errors, 
 they have been great, but if you knew that married when I was 
 scarcely sixteen to M. de Riche ville, I was after a few months of 
 marriage, contemptuously and brutally sacrificed, and to what crea- 
 tures, oh my God ! For four years my success in society was suffi- 
 cient to console me for my husband’s neglect ; during those four 
 years of intoxication ; or rather of mad excitement, my heart 
 slumbered, I loved no one, but I knew not one instant of ennui ; by 
 degrees, however, I became weary of those continual fetes and of 
 that noisy and aimless existence. My husband had set off for Italy, 
 where he remained for two years. I was alone — free. I became a 
 prey to profound melancholy. For the first time the pleasures of 
 the world were no longer sufficient for me. What shall I tell you, 
 Matilda ! at that time, I met the father of Emma in society. The 
 passionate love I conceived for him, though long resisted, made me 
 forget my duties. If a fault could be excused or ennobled by the 
 merits of him who makes you commit it, my love was indeed ex- 
 cusable, for he to whom I was attached united in himself the most 
 rare qualities and fascinations. This passion so profound on my 
 part, and so fully shared by him, lasted for six years, and was 
 scarcely guessed at in the world, for I spent, the greater part of that 
 period in one of my country seats. Death deprived me of him 
 whom I adored. After that t<: rrible blow I remained for several 
 years the prey to alternating and strange revulsions of feeling, some- 
 times remaining for whole months together plunged in despair, at 
 others wishing to struggle against the grief which was consuming 
 me, I gave myself up with ardour to every kind of pleasure, and 
 accepted with a kind of absent coquetry, innocent enough I swear 
 to you, but a thousand times more compromising than many errors, 
 the homage, the attentions of all, for my heart always remained cold 
 and dead to the emotions of love ; and then when those men whose 
 attentions I had admitted with so much indifference, fancied them- 
 selves beloved and asked me for some serious proof of my affection, 
 I could scarcely understand them, I fancied I was awaking from a 
 dream, and I became indignant at their pretensions. It was their 
 spite, their hatred, when they found themselves disappointed in the 
 hopes which I had unfortunately encouraged, that kept up the 
 abominable calumnies of which I was the prey, and to which you 
 have heard mademoiselle de Maran make such cruel allusions. Then, 
 seeing myself unjustly attacked, indignant at the malice of the 
 world, I sought for a refuge in prayer : unable to feel anything 
 without exaggeration, I devoted myself to the most rigorous aus- 
 terities, I wore a hair cloth shift next to my skin, I lived for whole 
 
408 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 months in the most profound solitude, but it was in vain that I im- 
 plored God to give me peace, God would not hear me, in His eyes 
 there was nothing but impiety in those desperate, those impetuous 
 fits of prayer to which I only gave myself up from unhealthy ex- 
 citement, and as it were to avenge myself for the calumnies which 
 the lightness of my conduct had provoked. After so many strug- 
 gles, after so many bitter deceptions, I sought for a last consolation in 
 love, or rather I hoped to bring the past once more to life, that 
 past which had been so dear to me. 
 
 “ Alas ! that was my great fault, I madly thought that it 
 was possible to love twice. Instead of preserving in my 
 heart a precious and holy memory, I blackened that first, that 
 only love ! Parodying as it were the impetuous bursts, the 
 devotion, the enthusiasm of that first attachment, I loved, or 
 rather fancied that I loved M. de Lancry. I soon perceived the 
 error into which I had fallen, and I shed some bitter tears o’er 
 this last fault which had proved so useless a one for my happiness. 
 I do not wish, Matilda, to justify M. de Lancry ’s odious conduct 
 towards me, but perhaps he perceived the lukewarmness of my 
 affection, though I devoted myself to him unboundedly : every day 
 I was forced to acknowledge with intense anguish that we can 
 love but once, and even if a second attachment had all the vivacity 
 of the first, it would still be never anything but a mere repetition, 
 a reflection, an echo. After the breaking off my connection 
 with M. de Lancry — a last and fatal experience ! I returned into 
 society, but with no feeling of interest in its gaieties, and continually 
 thinking of my daughter whom the respect due to worldly decorum 
 forbade me to have at my side ; it was then that I heard of Emma’s 
 illness : a woman in whom I had perfect confidence, mademoiselle 
 Albin, (whom I had placed as governess with my daughter) had 
 been corrupted by the bribes of M. Lugarto.” 
 
 “ How infamous !” 
 
 “ She sold him the letters in which I had always kept up a corres- 
 pondence with her, as well as all the documents which related to 
 the birth of Emma, and which I had confided to her ; the frequent 
 voyages of M. de Mortagne not having allowed that excellent friend 
 to take charge of the deposit. When my husband had extorted 
 that last confession from me, I made a vow at the bed-side of my 
 dying daughter that, if God would restore her to life, I would for- 
 sake the world for ever, and spend the end of my days in some 
 retreat which should embrace all the strictness of a religious re- 
 tirement. God took compassion upon me, he preserved Emma, 
 and since that vow which I have taken, the calm which I enjoy 
 is indescribable. Henceforth my existence will be divided between 
 my daughter and the practice of that religion of which I now 
 begin to feel the infinite sweetness. I am so happy, Matilda, at 
 the prospect of this futurity, so happy that I tremble lest some 
 
THE ORPHAN* 
 
 409 
 
 new calamity should arise to overthrow it — you know I have been 
 too guilty to have any right to such felicity/’ added madame de 
 Richeville with a deep sigh. 
 
 “ Ah ! do not believe that, madame, God forgives so much to 
 repentance.” 
 
 “ May he listen to you, Matilda.” 
 
 “ And where are you now going to, madame ?” 
 
 “To Paris, I shall retire to the convent du Sacre Coeur, where I 
 am. going to take Emma. She will pass for an orphan distantly 
 related to me. The superior of the convent will give me up a 
 little apartment in that holy residence, and it is there that I shall 
 henceforth live. When Emma is old enough to be married, I shall 
 entreat M. de Mortagne, and you, Matilda, you who now know the 
 melancholy secret of her birth, to seek for some man too generous 
 to make that poor girl responsible for the fault of her mother. I 
 shall resign the remainder of my fortune to her, with the exception 
 of a modest pittance for myself, I shall consecrate the remainder 
 of my life to the expiation of my errors, and God perhaps will 
 fulfil the prayers which I shall offer up for the happiness of my 
 daughter.” 
 
 There was so much simplicity in the words and in the confession 
 of madame de Richeville, the resolution she declared was so firm 
 and sincere a one, that I was deeply moved. 
 
 I was touched also at seeing her, so beautiful, and still so young, 
 for at the most her age did not exceed thirty four or thirty five 
 years, about to give herself up to a profound retirement, about to 
 renounce a world to which she was still fitted to be so brilliant an 
 ornament. 
 
 “ Ah madame,” I said to her “ how would it be possible that God 
 should not take pity and compassion upon you ?” 
 
 “ He has already shewn so much mercy in restoring my daugh- 
 ter to me, and in conferring upon her such admirable gifts ! for 
 you have no idea of that girl’s adorable qualities, if you knew 
 what a heart, what a soul, what an enchanting intellect she possesses . 
 No, I am not blinded by maternal love,” said the duchess unable to 
 restrain her tears “ it is impossible to meet with more goodness 
 joined to more nobility of disposition, to more uprightness, and then 
 her sensibility is so expansive, so sincere ! Believe me, her very 
 soul may be read in her angelic looks, and then — but, forgive me, 
 forgive me, Matilda, excuse a poor mother, but I so seldom find an 
 opportunity of saying those blessed words my daughter , that I am 
 abusing — ” 
 
 “ Ah ! can you believe it, madame ? do you think that I do not 
 feel how painful to you must be that constraint which you are 
 compelled to place upon yourself?” 
 
 “ Yes — oh, yes — very painful, Matilda, especially when I am 
 alone with Emma, although I overwhelm her with tenderness, 
 
410 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 although she is fondly attached to me, alas ! she does not know, 
 she never will know that I am her mother — I fancy that if she 
 knew it she would love me in a different manner, I fancy that her 
 voice would have a different accent, her eyes a different glance, I 
 am to her but a distant relation whom she has rarely seen ; what 
 would it be then if she knew that I am her mother ? Sometimes 
 I am on the point of confessing everything to her, but shame 
 restrains me. Never will I expose myself to blush before that 
 angel. But once more, forgive me, Matilda, for talking to you 
 so much about myself. Now that you know tbe history of my 
 life you will imitate my confidence. Now, Matilda, let us talk of 
 yourself. I implore you, conceal nothing from me. Believe me, 
 experience in misfortune ripens the judgment, and my counsels may 
 be serviceable to you.” 
 
 After a moment’s hesitation. I told Madame de Richeville all 
 the reasons I had for being jealous of Ursula, my suspicions as to 
 the latter’s intrigue with M. Chopinelle, what I had caught of her 
 conversation with my husband, and, in conclusion, my apprehensions 
 at the approaching arrival of my cousin.” 
 
 Madame de Richeville said to me. 
 
 “ Matilda you still love your husband passionately. So much the 
 better, a love like yours is a holy and a noble thing, doubtless one 
 suffers, but the heart at least is full, and that feverish and uneasy 
 ardour is better than a vacuum and stagnation of the soul. Your 
 cousin seems to me a very dangerous person. In former times ma- 
 demoiselle de Maran always exalted you at Ursula’s expense with a 
 maliciousness that was profoundly calculating. She knew that wo- 
 men of that description never forget, and that with them the 
 wounds inflicted on their pride are incurable ones. Ursula will 
 endeavour to avenge herself upon you for the humiliations of her 
 childhood, for the ridiculous qualities of her husband, for the as 
 ridiculous qualities of her first lover. Fatality has made you a 
 witness to many scenes of which she is ashamed, and she will 
 never forget it. Consider her then in the light of your most 
 mortal enemy. Your conduct towards her has been perfect in its 
 tenderness, and the wicked never forgive the benefits they have 
 received.” 
 
 “ And yet she is coming to declaim to me again about her friend- 
 ship — the hypocrite ! Never, oh ! never will I permit it.” 
 
 “ Matilda, you know the intractable disposition of your husband, 
 if he chooses you to receive your cousin, you will be obliged to obey 
 him.” 
 
 “ Oh ! never, never.” 
 
 u Poor girl, what will you do 
 
 “ I will implore Gontran, he will see my tears, he will take com- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 411 
 
 passion upon me, for I am sure if she comes here I shall have an 
 illness.” 
 
 “ M. de Lancry will not have compassion upon you, Matilda, for 
 like you, I believe that this expedition is a planned thing between 
 him and Ursula.” 
 
 “ You believe then that he loves her 
 
 “ As much as he is capable of loving anything. From what you 
 have told me, I do not doubt that your cousin practised the most 
 barefaced and encouraging coquetry towards him. They were not 
 long without understanding each other perfectly, and had not chance 
 allowed you to catch some words of their conversation, your sus- 
 picions would never have been awakened.” 
 
 “ But what shall I do, good God ! what shall I do 1 When once 
 my cousin is here, Madame, my misery will be certain. All Gontran’s 
 attentions will be for her, and my life will become a torture of every 
 instant.” 
 
 “ Do not think that, on the contrary, if you follow my advice, 
 Ursula will only stop a few days at your house, and during that 
 time she will repulse the slightest attentions of your husband.” 
 
 “ What do you say, Madame ?” 
 
 “Listen to me, Matilda. Your cousin, that melancholy and 
 romantic personage is above all things anxious to retain the influence 
 she exercises over her husband. Nothing costs her too much in 
 order to secure that influence ; she flatters his vulgarity ; shares, 
 and even exaggerates it, which is natural enough. Ursula is vain, 
 greedy, and poor, she forces her husband to wear himself out with 
 business, in order that she may soon be in a condition to lead a life 
 of opulence at Paris. Were M. Secherin to know to-morrow that 
 Ursula deceives him, to-morrow he would forsake her, and Ursula 
 would become poor once more, with no other resource but her dowry. 
 She married in order to become rich, and she will sacrifice a great 
 deal, if not all, to the preservation of that fortune.” 
 
 “ Ah ! madame ! her husband loves her so much ! he is so good ! 
 so weak 1” 
 
 “ From what you have told me of him, ho is as courageous as he 
 is upright and devoted, and such dispositions never enter into a 
 compromise with honour or descend to cowardly complaisance. He 
 adores his wife ; from the moment he discovers that she dishonours 
 him, he will abandon her, he will be terribly miserable, perhaps, but 
 he will never see her again.” 
 
 “ Do you advise me to denounce Ursula T I exclaimed. 
 
 “ I advise you, my dear girl, to wait for your cousin, here, and on 
 the very day of her arrival to say to her with calm firmness, “ Your 
 visit to Maran is a planned scheme between yourself and my husband. 
 1 am not your dupe : I declare to you that I am determined to re- 
 sort to every possible means in order to keep you at a distance from 
 
412 
 
 THB ORI’IIAN. 
 
 my house. I cannot prevent M. de Lancry’s being led away by 
 your coquetry, but I will not suffer you to come here and defy me. 
 You possess complete influence over M. Secherin, it will be very easy 
 therefore, for you, in five or six days, to persuade him to go away 
 from here under the pretext of a coolness between me and you, for 
 which I will take care to furnish you with a very natural oppor- 
 tunity. If you refuse this, to-morrow I will go to your husband, and 
 I will frankly confess to him, that right or wrong, I am jealous of 
 you, and that I implore him to take you away. Make up your 
 mind then whether you grant me with a good grace, what otherwise, 
 I can obtain by different means.” 
 
 “ Speak to her in that way, Matilda, and I swear to you that she 
 will not hesitate to depart. She will fear — and with reason — that 
 the suspicions of her husband once awakened, he will lose that blind 
 confidence on which depend all the power, all the courage, and all 
 the future projects of your cousin.” 
 
 I had listened attentively to Madame de Richeville, and what 
 she said to me seemed correct and just. A thousand forgotten cir- 
 cumstances returning to my memory, proved to me that the Duchess 
 had formed a marvellously correct estimate of Ursula’s character. 
 Only, I confessed to her that I dreaded the brazen assurance of 
 which my cousin had given me so many proofs. 
 
 “ It is for that very reason that I particularly wish to impress 
 upon you, Matilda, the necessity of never entering into any discus- 
 sion with her ; stick to this one declaration. ‘ Leave my house, or 
 I will unmask you to your husband — ’ not another word more or 
 less.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Madame, it is very cruel !” 
 
 “No weakness, Matilda ; or all will be lost.” 
 
 “ Alas ! madame, if Gontran no longer loves me, he will sacrifice 
 me to some other woman, as well as to Ursula,” I said with despair. 
 
 “ My poor girl, we must always in this life begin by securing to 
 ourselves all the repose and happiness to which we can form any just 
 pretension. Ursula once away, you will be quiet here till the winter, 
 and that at all events will be so much gained : when you have - 
 returned to Paris, if her coquetry still give you reasons for alarm, 
 you must have recourse to the same threats. I conceive that your 
 generous nature recoils from this mode of proceeding — but you will 
 have no need to resort to extreme measures. Believe me, this 
 simple menace of yours will suffice to make your cousin give up her 
 projects of seduction. She will have too much horror of becoming 
 poor again by her husband’s desertion ; to place you under the 
 necessity of ruining her. Women like her are incapable of a 
 sacrifice ; even where their evil passions are concerned.” 
 
 Madame Blondeau’s return, who now re-entered the room with 
 Emma, put an end to our conversation. Emma ran up to her 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 413 
 
 mother, and embracing her, presented the Duchess with a large 
 nosegay of roses. Her walk had given a most fresh and enchanting 
 colour to her complexion. She came and sate down for a minute, 
 on a sofa in the drawing-room, between myself and the Duchess. 
 Madame de Richeville, placed the nosegay upon her knees, took one 
 of Emma’s hands in one of her own, and with the other arranged the 
 bands of her daughter’s fair hair, which had been somewhat dis- 
 ordered by the walk. 
 
 While we three were thus together, Emma, her mother, and 
 myself, I reflected — alas ! with bitterness reflected — that I no longer 
 possessed the confiding security of that young girl, while I had not 
 yet attained the melancholy resignation, which sorrow had bestowed 
 upon her mother. 
 
 I thought of all the sufferings I should have to go through before 
 I could arrive, like Madame de Richeville, at the abandonment of 
 all human hopes. A woman’s age for action — if I may use such an 
 expression — extends mostly from fifteen to thirty. Emma, myself, 
 and Madame de Richeville, united among us, those three periods of 
 existence, the innocent and pure tranquillity, the stormy whirlwind 
 of the passions, and the prostration which succeeds to them, when 
 the heart lacerated in the struggle seeks for repose in oblivion. 
 
 * * * * *■ * 
 
 Madame de Richeville was unwilling to meet Gontran, and left 
 me towards evening. She had received no intelligence of M. de 
 Mortagne, and he had not answered the letter which I had written 
 to him about my husband’s intention of selling Maran. 
 
 I felt somewhat uneasy, and Madame de Richeville promised to 
 write to me as soon as she had arrived at Paris, in order to re-assure 
 me on this point. She strongly impressed upon me, also, the 
 necessity of giving her every information of what took place at 
 Maran, when Ursula arrived, and to remember strictly the advice 
 which she had given me. 
 
 I parted from this excellent friend with a painful depression of 
 heart. 
 
 That evening, when Gontran came in from shooting, I informed 
 him of Madame de Richeville’s visit ; he seemed not to care much 
 for the intelligence, and I then gave him M. Secherin’s letter c an- 
 nouncing the approaching arrival of my cousin. M. de Lancry 
 answered with the utmost coldness that he was delighted to hear 
 it, because Ursula would keep me company. 
 
 Four or five days after my interview with Madame de Richeville, 
 Monsieur and Madame S^cherin arrived at Maran. 
 
 
414 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 Ursula threw herself into my arms and embraced me most af- 
 fectionately. I replied to these evidences of friendship with much 
 coldness ; my cousin, however, did not perceive, or pretended not 
 to perceive, how little warmth there was in the reception I gave 
 her. 
 
 After the first compliments, M. Secherin said to me with a sigh, 
 and looking at his wife. 
 
 “ Well, cousin, the day after your departure a separation took 
 place between us and mamma, and we have left Rouvray. Alas ! 
 yes, you have no idea, cousin, how much it cost my wife to take 
 this step. She was quite heart-broken about it, which proves what 
 a good heart she has, for I must say mamma had been very harsh 
 and very unjust towards her. But how can it be helped ? when 
 once old people get a thing into their heads, the devil himself 
 can’t get it out again.” 
 
 “ Are you still living in the neighbourhood of Rouvray ?” I said 
 to him, “ in order to see your mother and superintend your manu- 
 factory U 
 
 “ Yes, certainly, cousin, I have often seen my mother, who is very 
 well, and, as my wife observes, I am sure mamma likes this arrange- 
 ment much better now that the thing is done ; she is more inde- 
 pendent, and so are we also. But she never would receive Ursula ; 
 how could it be helped ; it was an idea she had got into her head. 
 My wife cried a good deal about it. I can tell you ! However, it 
 don’t signify, there is something else in the wind ; my manufactory 
 dont want any more looking after ; and altogether I have now sixty 
 eight thousand livres a year — and upon my word Ursula and I want 
 to enjoy life a little. You don’t know our project, do you V* 
 
 u No, indeed, my dear cousin.” 
 
 “My dear,” said Ursula, “You are going to be indiscreet, I im- 
 plore you to — ” 
 
 “ Indiscreet with our good cousin !” exclaimed M. Secherin, 
 interrupting his wife, “ how could that be possible ? is’nt she your 
 sister, the best friend your ever had in you life % And besides I 
 am sure that what I am going to propose to our cousin, will give her 
 real pleasure since it pleases us. In one word, Madame la Vicom- 
 tesse, when you married, you offered to let us have a suite of rooms 
 in your hdtel, at Paris ; which is too large for your own occupation. 
 Well then, we accept your offer. 
 
THE ORPHAN 
 
 115 
 
 I looked at Ursula with as much surprise as indignation ; she 
 did not appear to understand me, and gave me a tender smile while 
 M. Secherin went on. 
 
 “ Do you remember what you used to say to us, cousin. “ Come 
 to Paris and we shall all be like one family — the winter at Paris; 
 the summer at Maran or at Rouvray V * “Well then! these fine 
 plans which are so delightful to you and to us also, are going to be 
 realised — we shall not be separated any more. I shall go and see 
 mamma every year, and leave Ursula with you. I have had a little 
 snuggery prepared for me at my factory ; and now we are come to 
 ask your hospitality till we all set off together for Paris. In order 
 not to leave my time and capital unoccupied, I shall take a share in 
 a banking house belonging to one of my friends ; a house that is 
 perfectly safe since it has survived the revolution of July. That 
 will give me some occupation while I am at Paris. Only, a short 
 time hence I shall leave you, to take a little trip — as far as a farm I 
 am offered for sale, and which I want to look at. During that time 
 you and Ursnla can settle everything about our establishment at 
 Paris ; you may as well let your rooms to us as to strangers, eh ? 
 cousin? But, by-the-bye, no — no — women understand nothing 
 about business. I will arrange everything with M. de Lancry. 
 Well, cousin, confess you did not expect this — and that we have been 
 preparing a rare surprise for you ?” 
 
 M. S6cherin, was not at all clear sighted, and did not, accordingly, 
 perceive my stupefaction. 
 
 My position was by so much the more painful, that, in former 
 times when I Rad a blind confidence in Ursula’s friendship, I had 
 actually made her this very proposition, and had implored her to 
 accept it. 
 
 Interpreting my silence after his own fashion ; M. Secherin ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 “Well ! you can’t get over it ! I was sure you would not think 
 we were capable of such a thing.” 
 
 “ Indeed, my cousin, I was far from hoping — ” 
 
 “ That we should remember your kind offers, my good Matilda. 
 Ah ? the very doubt was an injustice, first to me, and then to my 
 husband,” said Ursula, with an accent of graceful reproach. 
 
 Not wishing to come to any violent explanation, before the con- 
 versation which, following Madame de Richeville’s advice, I was de- 
 sirous of having with my cousin, I replied with some embarrassment. 
 
 “ Certainly, I did hope for this piece of good luck, my dear 
 cousin ; but I did not think of seeing my hopes realised so soon, 
 and lam enchanted at the flattering taste you have displayed.” 
 
 “ And I believe it, cousin, because you say it — Oh ! I know you 
 well, you are not one of those women who say yes, when they mean 
 no. Mamma was always repeating to me, “ Madame de Lancry is 
 
416 
 
 THE OIli’HAN. 
 
 truth and honour personified, what she says is gospel.” Was’nt she, 
 Ursula r 
 
 “ Certainly, my dear, but your mother, in saying that, thought 
 as I do.” 
 
 “ Yes, that’s true enough — Oh ! take my word for it, cousin, 
 you have no friend — -what do I say 1 no sister more devoted than 
 my wife. It is Matilda here, and Matilda there — nothing will go 
 down but Matilda. In short, particularly since the little visit you 
 paid us at Rouvray, she is as frantic as the deuce to come and live 
 with you. You may guess how well this suits me, me who also 
 swear by nothing else than you, without, however, forgetting my 
 cousin Lancry. Ah ! cousin, as folks say, there are two of you 
 to the pair. You were born for M. de Lancry as M. de Lancry 
 was born for you. It is just like me, without vanity, I was born 
 for Ursula as Ursula was born for me. But it is true enough, great 
 gentlemen are made for great ladies, like you,” added M. Secherin 
 with a loud laugh, “ and nice little homely women, like Ursula, are 
 made for plain homely fellows like myself.” 
 
 “ I am not of your opinion, cousin ; there are none of these 
 distinctions between Ursula and me, are we not relations ?” I said, 
 seeing that the conversation was taking a disagreeable turn, and 
 that M. Secherin was inflicting a deep wound on his wife’s pride. 
 
 Unluckily, when my cousin was bent upon following out an 
 idea, it was impossible to get him away from it. Accordingly he 
 went on, 
 
 “ You do not understand me, cousin, I am not talking of birth. 
 I know well enough that my wife’s family is noble and that I am 
 nothing but a plain citizen ; but I affirm that you and your hus- 
 band have something imposing and superior about you both, which 
 neither I or Ursula possess, and for my part I am enchanted that it 
 should be so, yes ! enchanted. Do you think if my wife had had your 
 fine, princess-looking air, I should have talked to her so familiarly 
 as I did the day we were married 1 I should just like to have 
 caught myself at it. On the contrary, Ursula with her nice merry 
 little face, which by-the-bye I dote on more and more every day, 
 put at my ease at once, I called her 1 dear] she called me ‘ love ’ 
 and we were good friends in an instant. Between you and her, 
 in short, there is that difference that — ” 
 
 “ Oh ! I will not allow you to go any farther,” I said to M. 
 Secherin, “ do not attempt to give us an account of the 
 various impressions you experience, but be satisfied with experienc- 
 ing them. You are passionately attached to Ursula, and that is 
 why you and she understand each other so well, why you see — and 
 with reason — in her the gracefulness and charms which attract, 
 while you think there is a look of imposing dignity about me, in 
 a word you love her, while you feel for me a frank and sincere 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 417 
 
 friendship — that is all the difference.” 
 
 “ It is prodigious how cleverly you account for everything !” ex- 
 claimed M. Secherin. “ Ah ! talking of what is prodigious” he 
 continued, “ I am going to surprise you finely, just fancy my having 
 taken to riding !” 
 
 “ Indeed ! how did that happen ?” 
 
 “ Another proof of my husband’s devotion to me” said Ursula. 
 “ After you had left us, my good Matilda, my doctor ordered me 
 horse exercise, and M. Secherin was good enough to send for a 
 riding master from Tours, and to take lessons with me, so that he 
 might be able to accompany me in my rides.” 
 
 The idea immediately struck me, that Ursula had learned to ride 
 in order that she might, when once at Maran, manage a tete d tete 
 with my husband, when she wished, for since our arrival Gontran had 
 always refused to allow me to accompany him on horseback. 
 
 “ And you cannot imagine” continued my cousin “ with what 
 ardour and courage Ursula used to take her lessons. What had 
 been prescribed for her health became a matter of real pleasure to 
 her, she used to ride two or three times a day in a meadow which 
 belonged to the factory, and which seemed to have been expressly 
 created for that. She was so bold, so intrepid that the riding mas- 
 ter declared he never had such a promising pupil.” 
 
 “ Oh ! my dear ! you exaggerate,” said Ursula modestly. 
 
 “ Exaggerate do I 1 well then ! I will lay a wager that Ursula 
 could ride any one of M. de Lancry’s horses,” exclaimed M. Se- 
 cherin, “ but as for myself, I could not say as much — Nor you 
 either cousin ; for I fancy you are no great performer on the 
 saddle.” 
 
 “ No cousin : but it would be very imprudent for Ursula to at- 
 tempt to ride one of M. de Lancry’s horses ; not one of them has 
 been broken in to carry a lady — and it would be a dangerous ex- 
 periment for her.” 
 
 “ Dangerous ! Ah ! you don’t know what she can do ! dangerous — 
 do you suppose she is afraid of anything ? Ah ! if you could once 
 see her on horseback, she looks so nice, and then her amazone be- 
 comes her so well ! and set3 off her figure to such advantage ! It 
 quite turns my head to look at her. You’ll shew your amazone to 
 our cousin won’t you f ’ 
 
 “ You know my dear, people say a riding habit, not an amazone , 
 
 “ True, true, you told me so before — I had forgotten it. Oh, a’nt 
 you just such another as mademoiselle de Maran ? a’nt you that’s 
 all ? a’nt she cousin T 
 
 “ My good Matilda cannot be angry with me for thus slightly cor- 
 recting you, my dear, for she herself strongly impressed upon me 
 always to tell you what was the proper, and what the improper 
 method of expressing oneself — did you not, my sister ?” 
 
 E E 
 
418 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” I replied absently. My heart was breaking, and I 
 was suffering all the tortures of jealousy and — shall I own it ? of 
 envy. I fancied I already saw Ursula with all her coquetry, all her 
 boldness, and all her impetuosity, riding by Gontran’s side, and 
 setting off on long expeditions with him ; while I — I — was left 
 behind alone — “ No, no,” I said to myself trembling with anger, 
 “ it shall not be. Ursula must depart and I will follow the counsels 
 of madarne de Eicheville.” 
 
 At the very instant when I was absorbed in these bitter reflections, 
 Ursula said, 
 
 “ It will soon be dinner time , my dear Matilda, will you be kind 
 enough to send for my maid, to shew us our apartment V* 
 
 “ Oh yes, and mind you make yourself look pretty, you have 
 brought such charming dresses with you, just fancy cousin,” said 
 M. Secherin, “ she had so many trunks and bandboxes that I was 
 obliged to buy a waggon at Tours to bring them all in, including 
 Cdlestine, mademoiselle Celestine, I mean, such a lady’s maid as you 
 don’t often see I believe, and whom my wife has had down from 
 Paris. I must confess that her way of dressing the hair is per- 
 fection itself.” 
 
 These preparations for coquetry on the part of Ursula increased 
 my suspicions still more, and I could not help saying to her with 
 some bitterness. 
 
 “ God bless my soul, what have you made so many preparations 
 for, just to come and spend a short time with us who never see 
 anybody 1 Why really one would say you have some mighty pro- 
 jects of conquest, I can’t think whom you mean to seduce here. I 
 am really beginning to feel quite uneasy,” I added with emotion in 
 my voice, yet attempting to smile while I spoke. 
 
 Ursula made no reply, but with a slight movement of her head 
 full of charming coquettishness, she drew my attention to M. Se- 
 cherin, and said to me with an air of candour most marvellously 
 put on. 
 
 u God bless my soui, I want to make a conquest of my husband 
 that’s all.” 
 
 M. Secherin could not resist this attack, he seized his wife’s hand, 
 kissed it tenderly several times over and exclaimed. 
 
 “ Is’nt she a nice natural little woman ? eh cousin — is’nt she, 
 that’s all ? But she is right enough, you must be forgetting your own 
 lessons, for you used to say to me. “ My dear cousin, it is for her 
 husband more particularly that a woman ought to dress herself, and 
 make herself look nice, and vice versa , a husband ought to dress 
 himself, and make himself look nice more especially for his wife. 
 Ha, ha, cousin, we don’t forget your counsels, no, no, make your- 
 self easy upon that point. So I shall just follow Ursula’s example 
 and ask your permission to retire, that I may make myself look as 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 419 
 
 fine as I can, for her. For, as you said, when a husbsnd begins to 
 neglect his appearance it is a proof that he no longer entertains 
 any passion for his wife, and when he no longer entertains any pas- 
 sion for his wife — ” 
 
 “ Everything may be exaggerated,” I said, interrupting M. Se- 
 cherin, for Gontran might return at any minute, and I should have 
 been deeply humiliated at suffering Ursula to guess with what con- 
 tempt my husband had for some time treated me. 
 
 I continued therefore. 
 
 “ There is a certain freedom which accords to perfection with a 
 retired country life, minute attention to one’s dress is, under such 
 circumstances, almost out of place, almost in bad taste.” 
 
 “ Ah, Matilda, Matilda,” said Ursula with a smile “ look at your- 
 self then, what elegance — I never saw you dressed with more co- 
 quettish gracefulness.” 
 
 I knew not how to reply. Wishing to neglect nothing which 
 might re-animate Gontran’s love, at Maran as well as formerly at 
 Chantilly, I had but one end in view, that of pleasing him as 
 much as possible, in spite of his disdain. 
 
 At this instant, I heard a door open, and I recognised Gontran’s 
 step. I blushed with shame. 
 
 He entered the apartment — What was my astonishment, he was 
 dressed with the most perfect elegance and taste. I was so accus- 
 tomed to see him so slovenly a figure, that I could hardly recognise 
 him. I examined Ursula with the utmost attention when my hus- 
 band entered — she did not blush. 
 
 Gontran received our guests with thorough and graceful cordia- 
 lity. His features, which during two months had scarcely relaxed in 
 their cold expression towards me, now resumed that enchanting one 
 which, when he chose, lent them an irresistible fascination. 
 
 Ursula and her husband left us a few minutes before dinner. I 
 could not help observing to Gontran, 
 
 “ Of course you knew that Ursula was here ?” 
 
 “ Why ? because I have taken off my shooting dress which I 
 never do when we are alone 1” 
 
 “ Certainly, it may be a childish feeling but I think that what 
 you do for a stranger — ” 
 
 “ I might do for you is not that it ?” he asked me. 
 
 “ I believe, my love, that I have as much right as my cousin to 
 be treated with consideration by you.” 
 
 “ Allow me, dearest, to observe that consideration does not con- 
 sist in one sort of dress or another. It is only natural that I should 
 dress myself in a suitable manner, in order to receive your cousin. 
 
 I did not invite her but yourself, I therefore believe that I am do- 
 ing what is agreeable to you by receiving her as well as I can, and 
 e e 3 
 
420 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 in paying her those attentions which every man owes to any woman 
 whom he has the honour of receiving as a guest.” 
 
 Did you not know that Ursula was coming here this autumn ?” 
 
 I asked my husband, endeavouring to read his countenance as I 
 lid so. His features did not change a muscle, and he replied, 
 
 I had not an idea of it, but after all, I am enchanted that it 
 should be as it is. Her presence will be an amusement to you, and 
 ’in r husband is the best fellow in the world. But what is the matter? 
 the arrival of your friend does not cause you so much pleasure as 
 I anticipated. 
 
 ‘ I have my reasons for that, my love — And I am afraid that my 
 cousin’s stay here, will not be so long as she perhaps hopes.” 
 
 Her husband’s affairs will shorten it doubtless ? Did she tell 
 you so?” 
 
 “ No— but— ” 
 
 “ But ? what do you mean V 
 1 I shall implore Ursula to go away.” 
 
 You ! and why ?" 
 
 “ Because — because — ” 
 
 • Well ?” 
 
 Because I have reasons to dread her presence, because — I am 
 jealous of her, Gontran !” 
 
 Of your cousin ! upon my word, my love, you have lost your 
 
 senses !” 
 
 - I have not lost my senses, Gontran. The instinct of my heart 
 
 does not deceive me.” 
 
 “ If that is the case you will make her visit to Maran a most 
 agreeable one truly ! this fancy of yours is indeed a promising one ! 
 It seems to be a settled thing that with you one is never to have a 
 moment's peace. Ah ! what an unfortunate disposition is yours — 
 unf< rtunate both for yourself and for others !” 
 
 ‘ But. my God ! is it my fault if I have suspicions, if — ” 
 
 “ But, once more I tell you, your suspicions shew a want of com- 
 mon sense, do reflect that you are accusing me without reason, and 
 tormenting yourself without any cause.” 
 
 ; Is that true ? is that really true ? Gontran, be generous, re- 
 assure me — I am so much terrified.” 
 
 1 Poor Matilda,” said Gontran to me with an air of touching 
 dignity, “ I will talk to you no more of my love, perhaps you would 
 not believe me — but I will say to you that M. Secherin, our relation, 
 lias come to live in our house and that I should be a scoundrel if 
 I even thought only of abusing in so cowardly a manner, the hospitality 
 which we offer him.” 
 
 I pressed Gontran’s hand in my own, those simple yet noble 
 words gave me fresh courage. 
 
 Ursula and her husband now returned, I thought my cousin look- 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 421 
 
 ing so pretty, so fresh, and with such a bewitching colour — her eyes 
 were at the same time so soft and yet so brilliant ; her smile so 
 penetrating and yet so coquettish, her figure so faultless, that I cast 
 my eyes upon a mirror which was opposite to me that I might com 
 pare myself to Ursula. 
 
 Alas ! I remarked with anguish that I was pale, that my features 
 were altered, faded, and languishing. For I had for some time been 
 far from well, I constantly experienced a vague feeling of being ill 
 at ease, a painful oppression which I attributed to sorrow, and which 
 was incessantly increasing. For the first time I perceived that my 
 face had already lost that first bloom of youth which rendered the 
 features of Ursula so fascinating. 
 
 The dinner was a very gay one, thanks to my husband who was in 
 buoyant spirits. Ursula was evidently suffering under some con- 
 straint, she feared to appear too gay, and thus to lose her charm of 
 melancholy in my eyes, while on the other hand she regretted not 
 being able to exhibit in more brilliant colours before Gontran, 
 Towards the end of dinner M. Secherin returned to his unlucky 
 proposal. 
 
 “ Cousin,” he said to M. de Lancry, “ I was maintaining just 
 now to Madame de Lancry, that my wife was able to ride any one 
 of your horses, I don’t care which.” 
 
 “ What ! madame, do you ride T said Gontran with astonish- 
 ment. “ Why that is indeed a piece of good luck for us ; 1 should 
 be almost bold enough to add, for you, for the country round Maran 
 is delicious, and I am enchanted at being able to offer you this 
 amusement.” 
 
 “ But, love,” I observed to my husband. “ You have no horse 
 trained to carry a lady — for you know you would never allow me 
 to accompany you out hunting. And it would be an act of great 
 imprudence to expose Ursula to — ■” 
 
 “ But I have already told you, cousin, that my wife rides beauti- 
 fully,” exclaimed M. Secherin interrupting me. “ She has done 
 nothing else but ride for the last two months.” 
 
 “ Matilda is right,” said Ursula with a look of resignation, “ it 
 will be more prudent to refrain from horse exercise.” 
 
 “ You may be sure, madame,” said Gontran to her, “ that nothing 
 in the world would induce me to expose you to any danger. 
 Madame de Lancry was never on horseback in her life, and there- 
 fore I have been obliged, from motives of prudence, to deprive 
 myself of the pleasure of her company — while you, from what my 
 cousin tells me — ” 
 
 “ I’ll answer for it that my wife will astonish you !” exclaimed 
 M. Secherin. “ The riding master at Tours could not believe his 
 own eyes.” 
 
 “ I just happen to have an excellent mare as gentle as a lamb,” 
 
422 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 said M. de Lancry, “ nothing could suit Madame Seeherin better, 
 and if my cousin will put a little confidence in me, she need not 
 fear.” 
 
 “ I have, doubtless, entire confidence in you, cousin,” said Ursula, 
 with hesitation. 
 
 “ How childish you are,” said M. Seeherin to his wife. “ Madame 
 de Lancry don’t want to prevent your riding because she is no 
 horsewoman herself. Do you cousin ?” 
 
 “ Come, my dear Matilda,” said Gontran to me, “ there shall 
 be no appeal from your decision on this important question, your 
 great wisdom shall be sole judge. Will you allow Madame Seeherin 
 to ride, or not ? Take care — if you say no. As you would deprive 
 her and myself also of a very great pleasure, we should both of 
 us bear you a mortal grudge in consequence, I give you notice.” 
 “And rightly too, 1 will join their party,” exclaimed M. 
 Seeherin with a loud laugh, “ for you will have prevented my 
 wife from appearing in her full beauty-— she never looks more pretty 
 than when she is on horseback.” 
 
 I could not give any serious reason for further objections, and 
 I replied with some trouble in my voice. 
 
 “ I have no objection — it was only from motives of prudence 
 that I made that observation to Ursula.” 
 
 “ Oh ! you may be quite easy, there will be no danger,” con- 
 tinued my husband, “ I answer for Stellas docility, a child might 
 ride her.” 
 
 “ Since you absolutely wish it, Matilda,” said my cousin to me. 
 “ I will try, but really I am afraid I shall be so awkward.” 
 
 “ Oh ! as to that, cousin,” replied Gontran with a smile. “ I 
 defy you to be so, and this is no flattery, for it is impossible for 
 some people not to do everything with grace and dexterity. And 
 it is not their fault if they are enchanting.” 
 
 “ Well, and when is this fine expedition to take place ?” asked 
 M. Seeherin. 
 
 “ Why to-morrow. It was a magnificent sunset this evening,” 
 said Gontran “ it will be a beautiful day to-morrow, we will mount 
 our horses at one o’clock, and have a regular lady’s hunting party.” 
 “ But as for me, cousin, I give you due notice that I am too 
 much of a tailor on horseback to go out hunting.” 
 
 “ You, my dear M. Seeherin shall accompany us, in the carriage 
 with Madame de Lancry, one of my kennel men who knows the 
 forest thoroughly shall go on horseback and conduct you to the 
 cross roads, where you will get an excellent view cf the hunt.” 
 
 “ Well and good — it will be quite a royal pleasure,” exclaimed 
 M. Seeherin. “ 1 too whose only sporting has been with my game 
 keeper and his two terriers — I only hope it may be fine. 
 
 “ I can assure you the weather will be superb to-morrow, Madame 
 Seeherin desires it too much for that not to be the case. To-morrow 
 
Going out Hunting 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 423 
 
 then will be an enchanting day, I will answer for that,” said 
 Gontran. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE STAG HUNT. 
 
 I found it impossible to have any private conversation with my 
 cousin that evening, she had the same room as her husband, and 
 two or three times after dinner, I fancied that she avoided me. I 
 suffered cruelly that night. A profound melancholy was added to 
 that sense of physical uneasiness which had for some time op- 
 pressed me. 
 
 I experienced all the most poignant, and all the most bitter pangs 
 of jealousy. In vain I tried to convince myself of the injustice, 
 and exaggeration of my suspicions, in vain I told myself that per- 
 haps after all there was but a little innocent coquettishness at the 
 bottom of Ursula’s conduct, I could not succeed in re-assuring 
 myself. 
 
 I determined to watch my cousin and my husband attentively 
 during that cruel day and to have a serious conversation with her 
 the morning, after. Gontran was not mistaken in his hopes, the day 
 was a glorious one, and a brilliant October sun announced one of 
 those last autumnal days, which are almost as beautiful as those 
 of summer. At twelve o’clock we set off for the hunting rendez- 
 vous. 
 
 M. de Lancry had made his attendants put on their best liveries, 
 and from the windows of the chateau we had seen them set off 
 with the hounds, while they blew a merry blast on their horns. A 
 carriage with four horses drove up to the steps and I got in with M. 
 Secherin. 
 
 I only dwell upon these childish particulars of opulent luxury for 
 two reasons, first, because I saw by the expression of Ursula’s 
 features that she admired as much as she envied that splendour, 
 and then because ail that gala ostentation formed a melancholy 
 contrast to my sorrow. 
 
 I waited with impatience for Ursula’s appearance, I was curious 
 to see if she really looked so well on horseback as her husband 
 asserted. I hoped that such might not be the case, and I wished 
 that she might meet not with any dangerous accident, but with 
 some little mischance which might make her look ridiculous in 
 Gontran ’s eyes and punish her for her overweening presumption. 
 
 Alas ! I had not even that melancholy satisfaction. When my 
 
THE our II AN. 
 
 424 
 
 cousin joined us, on horseback with my husband, I was forced to own 
 that she looked prettier than I had ever seen her. 
 
 And, by the way, I never could understand how jealousy can 
 deny or distort the advantages possessed by a rival, on the contrary 
 I have always been inclined to exaggerate them. But without any 
 exaggeration Ursula looked so thoroughly elegant and graceful on 
 horseback, that I was on the point of crying with annoyance. I 
 can see her now — her riding habit of dark blue cloth so long a & 
 almost to touch the ground, fitted tightly to the waist and in the 
 sleeves, and set off her fascinating figure to the utmost advantage., 
 she wore a man’s hat, and a shirt collar turned down over a small, 
 cherry coloured satin cravat, her pretty face, always so fresh and 
 rosy, acquired from this dress a kind of rakish and decided look, 
 which became her admirably, while her beautiful dark hair came down 
 on each side of her dimpled cheeks. I had never seen her eyes 
 look so purely blue. Y ou would have said the very sky was reflected 
 in them, as in a mirror. 
 
 The mare, on which she sate with an ease and assurance that 
 confounded me, was a yellow-dun, whose coat glittered like gold in 
 the sun-light, and whose long, black mane waved and streamed out 
 in the breeze. The animal seemed pleased at having to carry so 
 light a burden, and walked so springily that her steps scarcely- 
 brushed the grass. 
 
 Gontran rode a thorough bred horse, as black as ebony ; and 
 wore a hunting dress of his own livery, light blue with orange 
 velvet collar, and silver gilt buttons with his arms. His graceful 
 figure was well set off by the belt of his hunting knife which was 
 also half silver and half gold, and his black velvet cap which left 
 his features exposed made their refined and graceful expression 
 still more remarkable. Gontran’s extreme attention to his dress 
 upon this occasion struck me so much the more, because on his 
 sporting expeditions, he was generally dressed in a way that was 
 even more than negligent. 
 
 My cousin tried to approach the carriage in order to speak to 
 me. The mare, frightened no doubt at the parasol I carried, re- 
 fused to go on. 
 
 I confess it, to my shame, I was delighted at this little untoward 
 event which might be too much for Ursula’s dexterity, but, to my 
 great astonishment, (I dare not say to my terror) her pretty eye- 
 brows contracted with a frown, she raised her riding cane, and 
 began to punish the mare as boldly as possible. 
 
 “ Take care, madame, do not strike Stella she is very hot !” 
 exclaimed Gontran terrified at Ursula’s audacity. 
 
 “ Do not put yourself in a passion, my little wife, I implore you” 
 exclaimed my cousin anxiously extending both his clasped hands, 
 towards his wife. 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 425 
 
 Ursula however with crimsoned cheeks, expanded nostrils, eyes 
 sparkling with anger, and a disdainful smile upon her ruby lips, 
 paid no heed to their warnings. She resolutely inflicted a fresh 
 punishment upon Stella who reared so violently that I screamed 
 with terror. 
 
 Ursula, without appearing in the least intimidated leant forward 
 upon Stellas neck, giving the mare her head and all this with a 
 movement so natural that she seemed to run no danger. 
 
 “ Bravo cousin ! gloriously done !” exclaimed Gontran who could 
 not conceal his admiration “ what self-possession ! what courage !” 
 Still more stimulated by this approval, Ursula became deter- 
 mined to conquer the mare’s obstinacy and to force the animal to 
 approach the carriage. A few more blows of the cane, smartly 
 administered, subdued Stella , not however till after a fresh struggle 
 of some instants’ duration, in which the mare, instead of rearing, 
 plunged most viciously. Ursula, whose rounded and exquisitely 
 moulded figure undulated with all the suppleness of a serpent, 
 followed the impetuous movements of the animal so gracefully, 
 that she did not lose her seat for a moment. 
 
 This incident which I had hoped to see turn against my cousin, 
 only served to lend her fresh fascinations, she overcame the 
 rebellious brute and forced it to keep near the carriage. Then 
 bending lightly forward from her saddle, Ursula with a proud 
 smile of triumph, and patting Stellas brawny neck with her little 
 white hand which she had coquettishly ungloved, enjoyed her 
 victory with a brilliant glance at Gontran, as if to tell him that it 
 was his presence which gave her so much courage. 
 
 “ Well, cousin,” exclaimed M. Secherin “ what did I tell you ? 
 An’t she a bold one 1 confess she is a regular groom !” 
 
 “ Really, madam e,” said Gontran approaching with an air of 
 emotion. “ I cannot get over my astonishment at your intrepidity 
 and gracefulness. One forgets the danger you are running, and 
 one only thinks of the admiration which you inspire.” 
 
 “ Oh, it is so amusing to ride !” replied Ursula with simplicity. 
 And she then continued addressing herself to me. “How can 
 you deprive yourself of such an enchanting pleasure 1 For us 
 women especially, what a happiness is it to have the power, not- 
 withstanding our weakness, of mastering, subduing, t and governing 
 an animal which would kill us a thousand times over did we not 
 oppose dexterity to strength, an intelligent will to a brutal 
 obstinacy.” 
 
 “ This is a little the secret of your dominion in most things”' 
 said Gontran with a smile “ and you subdue us men pretty much 
 in accordance with the same principles and by the same means — 
 But, good God ! what is the matter with you, my love ?” said M. 
 de Lancry to me, observing the alteration of my features, for Ursula’s 
 
426 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 triumuph and the admiration which Gontran displayed towards her, 
 caused me to suffer intensely. 
 
 “ There is nothing the matter with me, love, only Ursula’s ex- 
 ample encourages me. I am absolutely determined to ride, and 
 shall begin to-morrow.” 
 
 “ But you have never tried, dearest, and then I think you are 
 not likely to succeed very well, you are too timid.” 
 
 “ I tell you that I will try even should I be killed on the spot,” 
 I exclaimed. 
 
 “Well, well, we will talk of that another time,” said Gontran 
 to me, “ let us set off for the hunting rendezvous , for it is already 
 late. Cousin, I am at your orders.” 
 
 “ We shah meet again presently, good bye Matilda,” said Ursula, 
 making me a sign with her hand. 
 
 “ Pray don’t be rash, my good little wife — I recommend her to 
 you, M. de Lancry,” exclaimed M. Secherin. 
 
 “ Make yourself quite easy, my dear cousin,” replied my husband, 
 “ there is never any danger for one so light, dexterous, and intrepid 
 as slie is." 
 
 Ursula and Gontran now cantered off side by side, upon a piece 
 of green sward, which was the continuation of the alley through 
 which our carriage was proceeding. We accompanied them for 
 some time, I followed them with my eyes as long as I could, but 
 they soon disappeared in a winding avenue where the carriage 
 could not pass, and I lost sight of them. 
 
 All these details will seem childish to those who do not know the 
 innumerable tortures of jealousy, and the irritating wounds of self-love. 
 Nevertheless, this scene, though in appearance so insignificant a one, 
 upset me to such a degree that I was upon the point of committing 
 an act of infamy — of denouncing Ursula’s conduct to M. Secherin, 
 and making him share my suspicions against his wife. 
 
 Fortunately shame kept this terrible confession from my lips. If 
 my cousin had possessed the least discernment, he would have guessed 
 the cause of my agitation and uneasiness. I answered him in the 
 most absent manner, and sometimes I fell into profound reveries, • 
 scarcely interrupted by the noise of the hunt, which now and then 
 traversed those extensive avenues that met at the cross roads, where 
 we placed ourselves to see it pass, conducted to one of the most 
 likely points, by one of M. de Lancry ’s attendants. 
 
 What caused me a profound, a fatal, a strange impression was to 
 see every now and then Gontran and Ursula rapidly appear — and 
 always side by side — at the end of some shady lane. The distant 
 and melancholy sound of the horns, which echoed through the dense 
 and shade-enveloped woods, the deep bay of the hounds, seemed to 
 me sinister and fearful noises. Alas ! a melancholy disposition of 
 heart and soul covers, with a veil of mourning, the most cheerful 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 427 
 
 objects, and seeks for lugubrious omens in that which causes joy and 
 pleasurable excitement to all besides. 
 
 M. S6cherin was in such raptures at the exciting sight before him, 
 that he did not remark my languor and melancholy — that uneasy 
 sensation which I had now for some time experienced, increased 
 more and more. I frequently felt a sudden shivering, which I could 
 account for in no other way than by attributing it to a nervous cause. 
 I suffered also from pain in the head, attended with weakness and heat. 
 
 We had just arrived and come to a halt in one of the cross-ways, 
 of the forest, Ursula and Gontran were advancing rapidly in a trans- 
 verse direction. I thought they were about to join us, and I leant 
 out of the carriage. 
 
 Effectively they were soon close to us, but they did not stop. 
 
 “ Matilda” exclaimed Ursula, as she passed swiftly by, and saluting 
 me with her hand, “ I am mad with rapture at this glorious hunt,” 
 and with a heightened colour on her cheeks and a glance of bold 
 brightness in her eyes, she gave Stella a blow with the cane, as a 
 hint to improve her pace. 
 
 “ The stag cannot hold out above half an hour,” cried Gontran to 
 us, “the hounds are working admirably — he will soon break cover,” 
 and leaning forward on his horse’s neck, he came up with Ursula, 
 who had got a little the start of him, and both once more disap- 
 peared. “ How she is amusing herself ! God bless my soul ! how she 
 is amusing herself!” — joyfully exclaimed M. Secherin. “ But, cousin, 
 what does M. Gontran mean by “ breaking cover” 
 
 I had heard my husband converse upon sporting topics often 
 enough to be able to reply to M. Secherin’s question. 
 
 “ It means that the wretched animal, hard pressed in the woods, 
 will soon come out into the open country ; that is its only chance 
 of safety ; after that, it will be slaughtered without mercy.” 
 
 I was in such a nervous state, I had for so long suppressed my 
 tears, that seizing, as it were, upon the ridiculous opportunity of giving 
 myself up to a fit of sensibility, I burst into tears. 
 
 M. Secherin looked at me with stupefaction, and said with an air 
 of interest : — 
 
 “ Good God ! what does the death of a stag have such a sadden- 
 ing effect upon your feelings, who by this time ought to be used to 
 that sort of thing — come, come, cousin, be reasonable, perhaps, 
 after all, the poor victim will escape from the unhappy fate which 
 threatens it !” 
 
 Those who have suffered acutely from some familiar sorrow, which 
 they have been necessarily forced to repress and conceal, those I say 
 will not smile with contempt, when I confess that in my reply to 
 M‘ Secherin’s last words, I made for myself alone a kind of allusion 
 to my own lot, so that I might in some slight degree give free utter- 
 ance to the sorrow which overwhelmed me. 
 
428 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 This is ridiculous, cruelly ridiculous, alas ! I know it ; but happy 
 are those who know not that the most intense anguish is sometimes 
 grotesque in its expression, which is I believe the highest pitch to 
 which moral torture can attain. 
 
 I replied, therefore, to M. Secherin with tears. 
 
 “No, no, the victim cannot escape, what can it do ? struggle per- 
 haps ? but a struggle requires strength which it no longer possesses. 
 
 It has lasted too long already — it has but to resign itself — to give 
 its neck to the knife and — die. And yet life had seemed to it full 
 of beauty — and yet who would think of dying on so lovely a day as 
 this, beneath so bright a sun ? — to the sound of those horns and the 
 joyful cries of the hunters ? — who thinks of dying ? — for whom is 
 this day of pleasure one of mourning 1 — for the victim, and the victim 
 only — The victim willl weep, and its tears will be mocked, and it 
 will be killed without pity — without pity !” 
 
 “ The fact is said M. Secherin almost with emotion, “ that poor 
 animals do shed tears when they are about to die. But, listen 
 cousin,” he continued “ they say also that before dying the stag 
 sometimes defends himself vigorously, and that even in the moment 
 of death, the victim has at least the pleasure of revenge.” 
 
 In the excited state of my feelings, replying to my own thoughts 
 instead of to M. Secherin, I dried my tears, looked at him fixedly 
 and said to him with a bitter smile. 
 
 “ Oh ! yes, is it not so ? revenge — revenge ! not to die feeble, 
 despised, mocked, insulted ! but to make those shed tears in their 
 turn, who have derided your sufferings — oh ! is it not so ? revenge 
 — revenge ! above all to punish insult — cowardly and miserable 
 insult — the insult which one knows is unpunished — that one believes 
 is unpunished, because the honour and pride of a noble heart pre- 
 vents an ignoble accusation. Oh ! but this must end at last, must 
 it not i Yes — you are right — revenge !” 
 
 “ Why cousin,” exclaimed M. Secherin with difficulty restraining 
 his inclination to laugh “ how the deuce can a stag be insulted and 
 think of revenge V 
 
 I looked at M. Secherin and was at first unable to understand 
 him. 
 
 In a few moments I recovered my self-possession and said to him. 
 “ Forgive me, forgive me, my dear cousin, really I am quite mad, 
 you are quite right, my sensibility led me away.” 
 
 “ That is just what I was saying to myself, my cousin, talks of 
 that poor stag as if it were a human being. But we must be upon 
 the move again. Don’t you hear the horn down yonder ? how 
 pretty it sounds. Upon my word hunting is quite a royal pleasure.” 
 The carriage moved on. 
 
 I took advantage of this movement to deliver myself up un- 
 reservedly, to the most bitter reflections. I pictured to myself 
 
THR ORPHAN. 
 
 429 
 
 Gontran and Ursula riding at a foot’s pace, close to one another, 
 and (in order to rest themselves after the fatigues of the chase) 
 allowing their horses to stray at random down those interminable 
 avenues which nature had adorned with a carpet of verdure, and 
 which were sheltered by trees now clothed in all the richest tints 
 of autumn. Happy in their mutual affection, they were ardently 
 enjoying that mild and beautiful day, that luxurious splendour, 
 that existence of delight, thinking of a future still more enchant- 
 ing, uttering to each other the tenderest words of passion ; and 
 exchanging long and burning glances of love. Perhaps too — the 
 forest is so dense in its foilage and so solitary, that Gontran, bend- 
 ing towards Ursula, has amorously clasped her waist, perhaps his 
 lip is touching her rosy cheek, that cheek rendered still more lovely 
 by the excitement of the past chase. 
 
 Oh rage ! oh misery ! oh torture ! I thought. And I — I — I am 
 here, crushed, faded, forgotten, mocked, for they are deriding, they 
 are ridiculing me — me who am quietly driving about with that 
 husband who is deceived and outraged. And it is I — I who gave 
 that needy and almost dishonoured man the chateau where he is 
 making love to my rival, the luxury with which he dazzles and the 
 pleasures with which he intoxicates her. 
 
 Oh ! this is frightful ! too frightful. This cannot go on — I am 
 weary of this stupid endurance of misfortune — I will bear it no 
 longer — not a moment ; close to me is that kind and honourable 
 husband whom they are deceiving — whom they are dishonouring — 
 I will enlighten him — It is not to denounce treachery and corrup- 
 tion, but it is to prevent honour and uprightness personified from 
 being any longer the dupes of traitors. 
 
 Once more the fatal confession rose to my lips ; Once more I 
 recoiled from the accusation. 
 
 About half an hour afterwards, Gontran sent one of his servants to 
 us with the information, that the stag had been taken in a pond, 
 but that the road thither was bad and impassable for carriages ; he 
 wished me therefore to return to the chateau, where he would soon 
 join us with Madame S^cherin. 
 
 We arrived at Maran only a few minutes before Ursula and 
 Gontran. After dressing for dinner I returned to the dining room 
 where I found my cousin, my husband and M. Secherin. At table 
 the conversation turned apon the day’s sport and Gontran gave the 
 highest praises to the courage and dexterity of Ursula who de- 
 clared that she had never enjoyed herself more thoroughly. 
 
 My cousin was much more gay than the evening before and 
 seemed to care little about keeping up her melancholy demeanour 
 before me. She drank wine several times with Gontran, to my 
 health, and made little difficulty in taking several glasses of chain- 
 
430 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 pagne, to M. Secherin’s great admiration who was constantly 
 exclaiming 
 
 “ What a little devil my wife is !” 
 
 For the first time observing the animation, the gaiety, and the 
 impetuous spirits of my cousin, I foresaw all that was bold and 
 unconquerable in her disposition. Till then she had always seemed 
 to me, an adept in dissimulation. Her audacious falsehoods had 
 always been enveloped in a garb of hypocrisy, and it was with a 
 melancholy look towards heaven, and with her large eyes bathed in 
 tears, that she was accustomed to deny the most self-evident truths, 
 but on seeing her at table so joyous, so resolute, on hearing her 
 lively, unexpected, and often brilliant sallies, I thought her still 
 more dangerous. 
 
 My husband did not conceal the kind of admiration with which 
 she inspired him. A sort of contest in wit had been taking place 
 between himself and her, and one in which Gontran sometimes 
 came off second best. He seemed almost fascinated, and enslaved 
 by the ascendancy of that woman, who more than once silenced 
 him by some observation full of cutting irony. 
 
 It will seem perhaps strange, almost impossible — but at such 
 times I was pained at the mocking superiority with which Ursula 
 replied to my husband. 
 
 I was confounded with astonishment at this metamorphosis of my 
 cousin. 
 
 M. Secherin himself whispered to me that he had never believed 
 his wife to possess so much wit. 
 
 I can now account for that transformation. There are certain 
 natures which, so to express myself, never completely reveal them- 
 selves till they find themselves in their own sphere. Thus Ursula 
 was essentially made for an existence of luxury, splendour, festivi- 
 ties, and inordinate pleasures. A century sooner she would have 
 been one of those witty and shameless women who were queens of 
 the orgies during the Regency. 
 
 For the first time, perhaps, since her marriage, she found herself 
 in a position in accordance with her tastes, and doubtless her real 
 disposition was now developing itself almost without her own 
 knowledge. 
 
 After dinner the curee of the stag was to take place in the 
 court-yard of the chateau, by torch light, Gontran having chosen to 
 reserve that bloody sight for the gratification of Madame Secherin. 
 
 Towards nine o'clock the huntsmen played a flourish on their 
 horns, which was to be the signal. We proceeded to a terrace 
 which looked upon the great court yard and extended itself before 
 the windows of the drawing room which we had just left. 
 
 The torches which were held by footmen in their full dress 
 
TUB ORPHAN. 
 
 431 
 
 liveries, cast a reddish light upon the buildings, of which a part was 
 in complete obscurity. 
 
 It had a sinister effect upon me — The greedy and impatient pack 
 scarcely restrained by the whips of the huntsmen, gave vent to 
 ferocious growlings, and the savage eyes of the hounds glared in 
 the surrounding darkness. 
 
 In the middle of the yard M. de Lancry’s first huntsman having 
 covered the bones and other remains of the stag with the animal’s 
 skin, took the head by the horns and shook it violently before the 
 hounds. 
 
 The pack, still kept back, uttered the most furious howlings, till 
 the instant when they were suffered to throw themselves upon 
 those gory remains, during which the horns were loudly sounded. 
 Then commenced a desperate struggle among those eighty hounds, 
 rushing one upon another, howling, snarling, fighting and tearing 
 from each other the bloody remnants of the animal. 
 
 This sight, and those yells disgusted me, and I returned into the 
 drawing room, whose windows looked upon the terrace. M. 
 Secherin had gone down in order to have a nearer view of the 
 curee. I felt overcome, more overcome than ever by some un- 
 easy feeling which was entirely physical in its nature, and for 
 the first time, I asked myself what could be the cause. 
 
 I let myself fall in a sitting posture upon a chair placed near a 
 window that was half concealed by the curtains, I was mechani- 
 cally watching the reflection of the expiring torches, as they 
 flashed for an instant and then became extinguished, for the curee 
 was now at an end — when I beheld Ursula and Gontran stop for a 
 moment before that window — Gontran threw one of his arms 
 round Ursula’s waist, and put his lips to my cousin’s cheek, in 
 spite of a slight resistance on her part. 
 
 Never shall I forget my sensations at that instant ; by a strange 
 fatality, the most cruel pain which I had ever felt, revealed to 
 me, so to speak, the most immense delight which I ever ex- 
 perienced. 
 
 I know not by what phenomenon the blow which I felt was 
 so violent a one, that at the same instant it was answered by a 
 shiver from the very bottom of my heart, which suddenly en- 
 lightened me as to the cause of that uneasiness which I had for 
 some time experienced. I felt that I was a mother. 
 
 Such was the impression caused upon me by such intoxicating 
 delight, and such overwhelming misery, that for a moment, I thought 
 I should lose my senses. 
 
 In my bewilderment, I mechanically rose from my seat. ; I ran 
 across the drawing room, I shut myseif up in my own room, and 
 throwing myself on my knees, I could only utter these words : — 
 
 “My God ! thou hast heard me; I can be miserable now no 
 
432 
 
 THE ORPHAN 
 
 longer ! at the very instant when I was about to die of grief, thou 
 hast sent me, oh ! how ineffable a hope !” 
 
 I had not perceived Blondeau, who was in the alcove. 
 
 “ Good God ! madame, what is the matter ? 
 
 Without replying to her, I pointed to the door of my apartment, 
 saying — “ I wish to be alone, shut that door, leave me, and go and 
 say that I wish to be alone.” 
 
 Blondeau went out and informed M. de Lancry that I was unwell 
 and wished to see no one. 
 
 Eiiectively I was left to my solitary meditations. 
 
 I could no longer entertain a doubt that my husband was faithless — 
 and I was a mother. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII 
 
 A MOTHER. 
 
 Never shall 1 forget the engrossing emotions of that night which 
 I passed in a kind of reasonable delirium , if I can use such an expres- 
 sion. 
 
 At one minute I walked, with hasty steps up and down my room, 
 at the next I suddenly stopped, threw myself upon my knees, and 
 prayed most fervently ; and then what bursts of delight, what 
 sensations of unbounded happiness, what thrills of dignified yet calm 
 pride did I experience! 
 
 I was a mother ! I was a mother ! At that intoxicating thought, 
 I was seized with fits of idolizing tenderness for the being that I 
 bore within me. I could not believe in so much felicity. I pressed 
 my two hands to my face, as if to satisfy myself that I was alive. 
 I fancied that to each pulsation of my heart another gentle and slight 
 pulsation answered — it was that of my child’s heart. 
 
 My child, my child 'l I was never weary of repeating those blessed, 
 those enchanting words. 
 
 In my intoxication, I called it, I devoured it with caresses, I was 
 like a mad woman, I kissed my own hands, and then I burst into 
 laughter at my own childishness — an instant afterward, I burst into 
 tears, but tears that were salutary and good to weep. 
 
 It was, I believe, three or four o’clock in the morning. 
 
 I fancied that my happiness required air and space, and that I had 
 the need of finding myself face to face with heaven, that I might 
 express to God my religious gratitude. 
 
 I opened my window; it was now the end of autumn ; the night 
 was as beautiful and pure, as the day had been superb ; not the 
 least noise was to be heard. All was shade and mystery ; and the 
 
TUB ORPHAN. 
 
 433 
 
 vaults of heaven were studded with millions of sparkling stars. The 
 moon rose from behind a hill that was covered with great woods, and 
 every object was suddenly flooded with its pale iignt ; the park, the 
 forest, the meadows, the castle. 
 
 Then a feeble breeze suddenly sprang up, increased, passed rapidly 
 through the air, like an immense sigh, and all returned to silence. 
 
 I saw an omen in that imposing murmur which had disturbed 
 the solitude of nature for a moment, and which made the calm that 
 succeeded appear still more profound. 
 
 I fancied that my heart had uttered its last sigh, and that hence- 
 forth my life would glide on in happiness and tranquillity. 
 
 For the first time since I had possessed the proud consciousness 
 of maternity — since my existence had become a double one, I re- 
 flected on my past sufferings. It was to blush for having been 
 afflicted at sorrows that reached only myself. 
 
 When I remembered that so fatal and so enchanting an evening on 
 which I had acquired both the certainty of Gontran’s unfaithfulness, 
 and the certainty also that I was a mother, I was astonished at the 
 profound and ineffable serenity which came to replace those poignant 
 emotions which even recently — had agitated me so cruelly. 
 
 I could not doubt that Gontran had deceived me — and yet I 
 felt an infinite kindness, an unlimited indulgence towards him. 
 
 My husband had yielded to a transitory fancy, it was a weakness 
 — a fault — but he was the father of my child and it was to him 
 that I was indebted for the new and heavenly sensation which I 
 experienced. 
 
 These reflections awakened in me an inexpressible mixture 
 of tenderness, devotion, respect, and gratitude, which left me 
 neither the wish nor the courage to accuse Gontran for his past 
 errors. 
 
 As for the future — oh ! as for the future, this time at least, I had 
 no longer any doubts or anxieties on that score. 
 
 The revelation which I was about to make to my husband would 
 ensure me, I do not say his love, his warm attentions, his exquisitely 
 watchful tenderness, but still more, a kind of affectionate and reli- 
 gious veneration which would be uninterrupted for an instant. 
 
 Yes, it was more than a mere hope, more than a mere presenti- 
 ment which now guaranteed me the delight of a future compared to 
 which, those few fleeting days of happiness which had been spent at 
 Chantilly and which I had always hitherto so much regretted, 
 would themselves, even, appear pale and cold. 
 
 Yes, I had a profound, absolute, enlightened faith in my happiness 
 to come, a faith whose source was derived from what is most sacred 
 amongst all divine and natural sentiments. 
 
 At that moment when God was blessing and consecrating my love, 
 J F 
 
434 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 to feel any doubts for the future would have been blasphemy. From 
 that time I felt a kind of compassionate contempt, of patronizing 
 pity for Ursula. 
 
 I could no longer honour her so far as to be jealous of her ; 
 towards her I could no longer condescend to hatred, 
 
 I was now soaring in a sphere so exalted ; I had now such a 
 conviction of my immense superiority over Ursula, that it was even 
 impossible for me to establish the slightest comparison between her 
 and myself. 
 
 For the first time, for many days a real smile lighted up my 
 lips, when I remembered, that, the evening before, I had envied her 
 the gracefulness with which she sate on horseback ; that the evening 
 before, I had envied her the brilliant sallies of her wit. 
 
 In spite of myself, I shrugged my shoulders with contempt at that 
 remembrance. In my imperious and generous pride, I felt pity for that 
 poor woman ; who, after all, perhaps, had been unable to resist the 
 inclination, which attracted her towards Gontran — an inclination, of 
 which I knew the irresistible power. 
 
 “ My God,” I said to myself, “ what an awakening will Ursula’s be 
 after the dream of a few days !” Then I called to mind our child- 
 hood — our former friendship. Happiness renders us so compassionate, 
 that I was moved with tender emotion, when I thought of my 
 cousin. 
 
 I promised myself, to entreat my husband to tell her as discreetly 
 as possible, that she could no longer stay with us. I did not wish 
 to make a cruel abuse of my triumph. 
 
 It would be impossible for me to explain the complete revolution 
 which maternity had just operated in even my slightest thoughts; ideas 
 grave, solemn, almost austere, had been aroused in me, in the space 
 of a night ; as if God wished to prepare a mother’s heart and soul for 
 the celestial duties which she has to fulfil toward her child. 
 
 I, hitherto so feeble, so timid, so resigned, now felt myself suddenly 
 strong, resolute and courageous — it was the hand of God sustaining 
 me. 
 
 An entirely new horizon was opened to my view ; and the limits 
 of my existence seemed to me to be put back by the infinite hopes 
 of maternity. Merely in those simple words , — 11 to bring up my 
 child,” there was a universe of fresh sensations. * * * * 
 
 By degrees morning dawned. 
 
 My first impulse was to tell everything to my husband, and'to change, 
 by that sudden avowal, his coldness into adoration : then I thought 
 1 would temporize for a little while, and delay the moment of my 
 triumph, in order to enjoy it with greater relish. 
 
 I experienced a kind of delight in saying to myself — “ with one 
 word I can make Gontran more passionately attached to me than he 
 
THIS ORPHAN. 
 
 43o 
 
 ever has been — Gontran who, only yesterday, was forgetting me for 
 another woman.” 
 
 Quite re-assured as to the future, I delighted in calling up the 
 memories of my most unhappy days. I acted like tho^e people, who 
 miraculously delivered from some great peril, contemplate for the 
 last time, with rapture not unmingled with terror — the abyss which 
 so nearly swallowed them up — the rock which so nearly crushed 
 them. 
 
 A profound and refreshing sleep surprised me in the midst of 
 these reflections. 
 
 I awoke late, and found my poor Blondeau at my bed side, in a 
 state of much uneasiness and melancholy ; my sorrows had not 
 escaped her notice : but, great as was my confidence in her, I had 
 never said a word to her of accusation against Gontran. 
 
 My countenance wore so radiant an expression of joy that Blon- 
 deau exclaimed, looking at me with surprise, 
 
 “ Blessed Saviour ! madame, what happy event can have taken 
 place % Yesterday I left you in such a state of depression that I 
 spent the whole night in tears and prayers.” 
 
 “ My good Blondeau, you yourself will go mad with joy when 
 you hear... But go quick and fetch M. de Lancry...go.”’ 
 
 M. le Vicomte has already sent to enquire after madame. .as well 
 as Monsieur and Madame Secherin. I said that you had not had a 
 good night, and Monsieur seemed uneasy.” 
 
 “ Well then ! go. .go quick and fetch him. I will reassure him.” 
 
 Blondeau left the room. 
 
 As the moment approached when I was about to see Gontran 
 again, my heart beat with more and more violence. 
 
 My husband appeared. 
 
 I threw myself into his arms, burst into tears, and was unable to 
 utter a word. 
 
 Gontran was deceived, he took my tears for tears of grief. 
 Thinking doubtless that I had seen him kiss Ursula the night 
 before and that I was in despair, he said to me with embarrassment 
 “ I entreat you do not believe appearances, do not cry... do not. — ” 
 
 “ But I am crying with joy... Gontran... with joy.. .look at me, 
 look at me !” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ Effectively,” replied my husband, “ that smile, that expression 
 of happiness diffused over your features, Matilda... Matilda, what is 
 the meaning...” 
 
 “It means that I know everything, and that I forgive you every 
 thing. Yes, my beloved Gontran... ye3... last night upon that bal- 
 cony I saw your arm round Ursula’s waist... last night I saw your 
 lips touch her cheek. Well! I forgive you, do you hear?... I 
 forgive you, because presently you will accuse yourself more bitterly 
 
436 
 
 TIIE ORPHAN. 
 
 than I ever could have accused you... because presently on your 
 bended knees you will say to me.. “ Pardon ! pardon !” 
 
 “ But once more... Matilda.” 
 
 “ You do not understand ? Gontran, you do not guess ? No, 
 you look at me with terror, you think that I am jeering... perhaps 
 that I am mad ? But it is my turn now to ask forgiveness from 
 you... and from God, for it is wrong not to talk of so holy a happi- 
 ness with the solemn austerity which it deserves, Gontran !” I then 
 exclaimed, taking my husband by the hand “ kneel down with me 
 ...God has blessed our union. I am a mother !” 
 
 Oh ! I was not mistaken in my hope ! Gontran’s features 
 expressed the most delightful surprise ; the most profound joy. 
 Overwhelmed with contending emotions, for an instant he pressed 
 me in his arms with the warmest tenderness... tears... tears... the 
 only ones 1 had ever seen him shed, dropped from his brimming 
 eyes. He gazed at me with love, with adoration, almost with respect. 
 
 “ Oh !” he exclaimed taking my two hands into his own, “ You 
 are right, Matilda, on my bended knees I will pray for your for- 
 giveness, noble, generous-hearted, heavenly-minded woman ! And 
 X could injure you ! you — you always so resigned, so gentle. Oh ! 
 once more, pardon !” 
 
 “ Did I not tell you, my Gontran, my beloved, that it would be so, 
 that you would ask me to forgive you ? But alas ! I feel I cannot 
 grant you that pardon now, for I have forgotten the injury.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Matilda ! Matilda ! I have erred deeply” exclaimed Gon- 
 tran with a melancholy shake of his head “ But, believe me, it 
 was unsteadiness — frivolity — but my heart, my love, my veneration, 
 were yours — always yours — Now the new duties which devolve upon 
 me render a new conduct imperative, and you will see — oh you will 
 nee my love ! how worthy I shall be of the happiness which is 
 coming to us. How sacred you will be to me — Matilda ! Matilda !” 
 he added kissing my hands with transport — “ Oh ! believe me, this 
 moment enlightens me, never have I better felt all your worth, and, 
 how unworthy I have hitherto been of your excellencies. I swear to 
 you, Matilda, I love you now more passionately perhaps than even 
 during those happy days at Chantilly... those days, my poor girl, 
 which you are always so much regretting — Now I say as you do — 
 if you can no longer forgive me the injury because you have for- 
 gotten it, I cannot ask for that forgiveness because I can no longer 
 believe that I ever can have injured you.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Gontran . . . Gontran . . . that is your own heart, your own lan- 
 guage... it is you indeed, I recognise you again Oh ! my God ! my 
 God ! give me force to support so much happiness !” 
 
 Yes, yes, it is I, your friend, your lover, Matilda. . .your lover, who 
 was not changed. . .no, no, I swear it to you... but thanks to you, I 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 437 
 
 was so happy, so happy, that I thought no more of that happiness 
 which I owed to you, than one thinks of thanking God for a life 
 which flows on happy and without care... and then if I was some- 
 times negligent, capricious, and fanciful, I must reproach you for 
 it, my guardian angel, my beloved... yes, I was like those spoiled 
 children whom their mother in her idolizing tenderness never scolds ! 
 for their greatest faults she has only a smile, or a gentle remonstrance 
 “ A -and yet. ..no,” he went on with a touching gracefulness, “ no, I 
 am trying to excuse myself, to make less of my faults and that is 
 wrong...! have been selfish, harsh, indifferent, unfaithful, for some 
 time I never appreciated the most adorable disposition which exists 
 in the world... Oh i Matilda, I do not dread to paint the past in the 
 blackest colours, the future will absolve me.” 
 
 “ Do not let us talk of that, Gontran, let us talk of our 
 
 child — what will be your projects ? What joy ! what felicity I If it 
 is a boy how beautiful he will be ! if it is a girl how lovely she will 
 be ! He will have your eyes, she will have your smile, and such 
 beautiful dark hair, such rosy cheeks, such a dear little white neck, 
 and such sweet little dimpled shoulders ! Ah ! Gontran, I am raving, 
 upon my word, I am mad. I shall never be able to wait till then !” 
 I exclaimed with such simplicity, that Gontran could not help smiling. 
 
 “ Tell me,” he replied, “ what do you prefer ? Would you like to 
 remain here some time longer, or go at once and settle at Paris ? 
 Tell me, Matilda — give your orders — now I have no will of my own.” 
 “Now, on the contrary, my love, you must exercise a will both 
 for yourself and for me ; for I shall be completely absorbed by one 
 sole thought — my child. Beyond that one fixed idea I shall be good 
 for nothing.” 
 
 “ Since you leave me free to choose, I will reflect upon the proper 
 course to pursue — I will consider the matter over.” 
 
 “ Whatever you do, dearest, will be well done ; and among other 
 considerations you will consult economy, will you not ? for now we 
 must be prudent ; we have not ourselves only to think of, we must 
 begin from the present moment to think of our dear child’s dowry ; 
 and now-a-days, money is so paramount, that riches afford an addi- 
 tional chance of happiness. Let us think, dearest, what reductions 
 shall we make in our establishment 1” 
 
 “We will think about it, Matilda, you are quite right. What a 
 happiness it will be to replace a frivolous and useless luxury by a 
 touching care for the future lot of that being, who will be dearer to 
 us than anything in the world ! Ah ! we shall never have experi- 
 enced so much felicity from the possession of wealth !” 
 
 “ Upon my word, dearest, when I think that each privation of 
 mine might increase the future prosperity of my child, I am really 
 afraid of becoming a miser.” 
 
 “ Dearest and best beloved make yourself easy on that score. 
 
438 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 Like you I feel all the new duties which now devolve upon us, and I 
 will be wanting in none of them. Like you, Matilda, last night 
 has operated a change in me,” added Gontran, with an inimitable 
 accent of graceful tenderness. 
 
 My husband was then speaking with sincerity ; I was sufficiently 
 versed in the expression of his countenance to read in it a touching 
 truthfulness. 
 
 When he was expressing his regrets for having tormented me, he 
 was speaking truly ; the hardest hearts, the most unpitying dispo- 
 sitions often have a meritorious reaction ; much more then was 
 Gontran capable of a generous emotion : he was not naturally 
 depraved, but had been spoiled by too much adoration. 
 
 I repeat it ; I am certain that my husband, at that instant, had 
 become once more to me, what he was when we married. 
 
 I was so impressed with this conviction ; it seemed to me so 
 natural, that the transitory fancy which my husband had entertained 
 for Ursula, should be at once extinguished by the revelation which I 
 had just made to him, that without the slightest hesitation, or the 
 slightest embarrassment, I said to Gontran ; — 
 
 “ Now, dearest, how shall we get rid of Ursula ?” 
 
 At this question, full of simplicity, Gontran looked at me, and 
 reddened with surprise. 
 
 “ It astonishes you to hear me talk in this way of my cousin 
 I said to him with a smile, “ and yet nothing can be more simple ; at 
 this moment I feel no animosity against, no jealousy of her ; I havenot 
 time to do so, I am too happy ! She has played the coquette with you, 
 you have paid attention to her ; I forgive all that : this was all merely 
 the flightiness of youth , which now, dearest, you will not remember 
 any longer. I only wish that you who have so much tact, and are 
 so clever, would hit upon some plan to get Ursula out of the way, 
 without harshness or too great pain to her feelings ; for in spite of 
 myself I cannot help pitying her ; perhaps for a moment, she may 
 have believed that you really loved her.” 
 
 Gontran looked at me in great confusion, and scarcely seemed to 
 believe what he heard. After a minute’s silence, he exclaimed; — 
 
 “ Always noble ! always generous ! Ah ! I should be the most 
 guilty of men were I ever to forget your conduct on the present 
 occasion. Yes, you are right, Matilda, I will expiate as I ought these 
 giddy errors of my youth. Your cousin must go away, and must go 
 away as soon as possible ; not that I doubt my own resolution, but 
 because it would be painful for you to see her, when the transport 
 you now feel shall have passed off.” 
 
 “ You say rightly, dearest — you know me better than I know 
 myself. If you knew — I have suffered so much on her account. 
 But, come— Goatran— we will not talk any more on that point — 
 
THE ORPITAX. 
 
 439 
 
 all is forgotten. It will be easy for Ursula to persuade her husband 
 to leave Maran, for her will is his. But,” I added with some hesi- 
 tation. “ How will you manage to bring Ursula to that deter- 
 mination V 
 
 “ Nothing can be simpler. I shall tell her everything frankly 
 and openly.” 
 
 “ You will tell her.” 
 
 “ I shall tell her that she and I have been mad, that we have run 
 the risk of seriously compromising, she, — the tranquillity of the 
 best man in the world, I — the peace of the tenderest and most ador- 
 able of women. I shall tell her that our imprudence has alarmed 
 your suspicions, and that for no consideration in the world would I 
 cause you the least sorrow ; in a word, I shall tell her so, that I 
 implore her to persuade her husband to leave Maran.” 
 
 I was silent for a moment ; notwithstanding my faith in Gontran’* 
 love, and in my own superiority over Ursula, it pained me to think 
 that my husband was again about to have a secret interview with 
 my cousin. Alas ! at that thought all my sensations of jealousy 
 awoke in spite of myself. 
 
 I said to Gontran with emotion, 
 
 “ Then to persuade Ursula to go away, it will be necessary for 
 you to request an interview with her.” 
 
 “ Certainly.” 
 
 “ Well then ! I confess it to you, Gontran, that idea is a most 
 painful one to me.” 
 
 “ Come, come,” he replied with a smile, u I must have more 
 courage than you. What can we do, however, my poor Matilda ?” 
 
 “ I know not.” 
 
 “ I dare not propose to you to speak yourself to your cousin.” 
 
 “ No, it would hurt me to do so. I feel it would. Such a com- 
 munication from me would humiliate her bitterly. I cannot forget 
 that she was once my friend^-my sister.” 
 
 “ What is to be done then % I might write to her — but that is 
 a dangerous expedient, and besides there are a thousand things 
 which one can say, but which one cannot write— objections which 
 one can reply to viva voce , but which it would take a protracted 
 correspondence to do away with.” 
 
 After having reflected for some time, Gontran exclaimed delight- 
 edly. 
 
 “ Oh ! Matilda-r-Matilda ! what an excellent idea ! would you 
 like to have a double proof of my sincerity, and of my desire to 
 make you forget the sorrows which I have caused you ?” 
 
 “ What do you mean V* 
 
 “ Conceal yourself somewhere, whence you may see and hear 
 everything ; and so be secretly present at this interview, which 
 alarms your jealousy so much.” 
 
440 
 
 THE OllPHAN. 
 
 “ Gontran, what do you say ? — Ah such a trial” — 
 
 “ Has nothing to frighten you. — Believe me once more, Matilda, my 
 angel — my well beloved, I will tell you everything, confide every- 
 thing to you ; be, in short, as frank, as you are generous. Forgive 
 me if I hurt your feelings, I will have the courage to do it ; for at 
 least this candid avowal will destroy, I am certain, your exaggerated 
 terrors. You will see that I have been more imprudent, more 
 frivolous than culpable. You will see that Ursula has acted most 
 coquettishly towards me ; that if on my side I have exceeded the 
 bounds of simple gallantry, still she has not to blush for a grave, 
 an irreparable fault. Well then — yes, last night, after the curee 
 had taken place by torch light, I put my arm round her waist, and 
 tried to kiss her in sport ; it was a most blameable piece of trifling, 
 I know, although it might be excused by the familiarity which is 
 authorised by relationship.” 
 
 “ And at Rouvray, Gontran V ’ 
 
 “ Rouvray, as here I paid Ursula some of those compliments 
 which one pays all women. I told her she was a delightful person, 
 and that I should be in raptures if she would make a long stay with 
 us : she received my compliments coquettishly, certainly, but still 
 laughing all the time, and without seeing in them, I swear to you, 
 anything more serious than there really was. There is my whole 
 confession, Matilda — forgive me, once more, forgive me.” 
 
 “ On the contrary, I thank you for those avowals, dearest, they 
 re-assure me ; and then it is always better to know the truth, how 
 painful a truth soever it may be, than to frighten oneself with 
 phantoms which are often more terrifying than the reality.” 
 
 “ And now, Matilda, I swear to you upon my honour, by all that 
 is dearest to me in the world, in a word, by yourself \ that in 
 this interview, I shall address your cousin with a heart filled to 
 overflowing with you , with your goodness, and your generosity ; and 
 that I will not utter one word without thinking of the tears which 
 I have caused you, noble and heavenly-minded woman, to shed ! 
 I swear to you, in short, that the transitory fancy which I have 
 owned to you, has completely vanished before that new tie, so sacred 
 and powerful a one, which renders the other ties that unite us still 
 more binding. Matilda, Matilda, I should be the most despicable of 
 men, if your present condition were not in itself sufficient to 
 command the tenderest attentions the most affectionate respect 
 from me ; believe me then, Matilda, and assist, without fear, at this 
 interview. I am proud to have this opportunity of proving to you, 
 that I know, at least, how to expiate the faults which I have 
 committed.” 
 
 “Oh II believe you, my beloved Gontran, I resign myself to your 
 advice. Yes; I will have the oourage to undergo this trial.” 
 
THE ORPHAN. 
 
 441 
 
 “ Thanks, oh! thanks, Matilda, for permitting me thus to justify my- 
 self ; but I will not have you retain the least doubt, love is suspicious, 
 I know, and perhaps, in spite of yourself, there will still remain in your 
 mind the thought, that I had arranged with Ursula beforehand, that — ” 
 
 “ Ah ; Gontran, how wrongfully you judge me !” 
 
 “No, no, my poor Matilda, let me do what I wish; the more 
 free, frank, and unforeseen the explanation, the more satisfied will 
 you be. Listen to me then ; — you shall go and tell Blondeau to ask 
 your cousin to come and see you here. You shall place yourself 
 there, in the closet of your alcove, aud, by leaving that glass door 
 a-jar, and lifting up a corner of that curtain, you will be able to see 
 and hear everything that passes. Your cousin will come, I will tell 
 her you are just gone ont, that you request her to excuse you, and 
 to rejoin you in the pavilion, in the park. I will keep her here, for 
 a few moments ; she will then go out to look for you. Then, emerg- 
 ing from your hiding place — ” 
 
 “ Then , Gontran, I will fall at your knees to thank you a thousand 
 times for having restored to me, in one day, all the happiness which 
 I thought was lost.” 
 
 As my husband desired, Blondeau went to find Ursula. 
 
 It was with a violent beating of the heart, that I entered one of 
 the closets of the alcove. Gontran’s tender assurances, and honourable 
 promises, everything, in short, ought to have prevented my feeling 
 the slightest fear ; and yet, for another moment, I hesitated. I 
 fancied that I was playing a part unworthy of myself, in thus assisting 
 as an unseen witness of the interview. 
 
 And yet, I confess it, my irresolution ceased less from the hope of 
 seeing my rival humiliated, than from the ardent and uneasy expec- 
 tation of assisting at a scene so new and strange for any woman to 
 witness. 
 
 I well knew the plaintive and melancholy accents of Ursula ; and 
 I expected to see her burst into tears, when my husband signified his 
 determination to her. 
 
 Judging of the love she must feel for Gontran, by the love which 
 I experienced for him myself, I foresaw that the scene would be a 
 cruel one for my cousin ; and, whether from weakness or, generosity, 
 I could not help pitying her. 
 
 I went so far even, as to fear, that Gontran, impelled by his 
 knowledge of my being secretly present, would behave with too 
 much harshness towards her. What an awakening for that unhappy 
 woman, who, doubtless, loved him so tenderly, and believed herself to 
 be so tenderly beloved by him ! 
 
 Even now I am convinced that my husband was then sincere in 
 his determination of sacrificing a transitory caprice, to the holy and 
 solemn affection which I deserved. I had but one fear, Ursula was 
 so artful, so adroit, she knew how to lend such powerful fascination 
 
442 
 
 THE ORPHAN. 
 
 to her voice, and to her tears, that, perhaps, my husband’s resolution 
 would not be proof against the touching expression of her sorrow. 
 These reflections had occurred to me more rapidly than thought. 
 I heard Ursula’s light step — I withdrew into my hiding place. 
 
 END OF VOL. i. 
 

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