r^rrsM'^'-^-.A^-^.-Ky^.-' 
 
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LI B R.ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N 1 V ERS ITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 823 
 
 J4-I30 
 
 V.3 
 
ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 % gml 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 UnATTQTM Qfrrr r A » a 
 
 COUSIN STELLA," " WHO BEEAKS-PAYS," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1865. 
 
IT/ic rujht of Translation in roiirvcd.] 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE THIRD VOLUME. 
 
 »o* 
 
 Chap. Pagb 
 
 I. Petite Maman's Advice 1 
 
 11. A Shadow of the Past 15 
 
 m. The Croix Rouge 33 
 
 IV. Difficult to Identify 52 
 
 V. Youth and Crabbed Age 72 
 
 VI. Old Friends meet as New Acquaintances 87 
 
 VII. Signs 107 
 
 VIII. The Merry, Merry Days when we were 
 
 Young 125 
 
 IX. Neav Projects 147 
 
 X. The Patrician's Daughter 159 
 
 XI. A Proposal of Marriage 174 
 
 y 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. Page 
 
 XII. Conditions 196 
 
 XIII. Le Cercle 214 
 
 XIV. Derniere Invitation a la Valse 231 
 
 XV. Margaret's Votive Offering 245 
 
 XVI. The Civil Marriage 264 
 
 XVII. „ 280 
 
OJNCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PETITE MA:MAN'S ADVICE. 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges herself opened the door to 
 Madame de Villemont, and opened also her 
 piercing eyes very wide at the unexpected sight 
 of M. de Pressy. Almost before the door was 
 closed on her, Louisa exclaimed, without uttering 
 the usual greeting, — 
 
 " I met him as I was coming here, and I could 
 not bid him go away — I was ashamed." 
 
 " Ah ! that was vexatious," answered Petite 
 Maman, as she led the way to the salon, which 
 
 VOL. HI. 40 
 
2 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Lad all the uncomfortable closeness of an unused 
 room. 
 
 " Your letter has made me come at once," said 
 Louisa, impetuously, " to know what people are 
 saying about me. I ought to know, and I must 
 know." 
 
 " What you ask is difficult to answer," replied 
 Mdlle. St. Georges; "no one ever speaks out 
 plainly as to such matters — half words and laughs, 
 and winks, are made to express a great deal." 
 
 " At all events vou can explain what made vou 
 think it necessary to warn me ? You need not be 
 afraid to speak out ; thank goodness, I can bear the 
 truth." 
 
 " Without question you can, poor dear lady." 
 
 '' Well, what was the £2;rand accusation ? " con- 
 tinned Louisa, raising her head, and giving a proud 
 glance at the dear fat old lady, looking like a 
 feather-bed in a brown check mohair dress. 
 
 Mdllc. St. Georo;es turned her head aside as she 
 answered, — 
 
 " It is said that you ai'e too partial to Sevcrin 
 de Pressv — that's the naked truth. I don't believe 
 
PETITE MAMAN'S ADVICE. 3 
 
 it : if I did I should not have written to vou. It 
 would have been of worse than no use — I should 
 only have hurried your misery ! " 
 
 Louisa's features were rigid with emotion as she 
 said, — 
 
 " Do you mean that the people I see daily, wdio 
 come to my house, who kiss me on both cheeks, 
 who send me invitations, and invite M. de Pressy 
 at the same time as they do me ; do you mean 
 that they are the persons who talk of me in this 
 scandalous audacious way ? " 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges replied, — 
 
 " My dear, neither you nor I can change the 
 world ; it's just what it was in the time of Job, 
 whenever that was. You Protestants read your 
 Bible; well, you remember what David said of 
 familiar friends ? " 
 
 " I have a great mind," said Louisa, " to dare 
 them all, and go on as I have been doing ; it will 
 be as much as to confess I was wrong, if I make 
 any change. What an idea, that a woman cannot 
 have a man for a friend without danger ! " 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges drew her chair close to 
 
 40—2 
 
4 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa's, and took one of lier delicately-gloved 
 hands in her own muscular ones. 
 
 " I am past sixty, and I have seen so much. I 
 know many a sad, sad story — my dear, you cannot 
 have men friends, they will all be lovers." 
 
 " You are mistaken, mademoiselle ; I am told I 
 am good-looking, but do believe me, I am not 
 attractive. I can give you an instance — M. de 
 Villemont never was a bit in love with me." 
 
 " Aliens done ! " said Mdlle. St. Georges ; '•' you 
 want to make me take a lantern for the moon. I 
 hope you never made that false accusation of your 
 husband to Severin de Pressy." 
 
 "It does not trouble me enough to make me 
 talk about it. It was your assertion made me 
 offer you proof in contradiction." 
 
 " Ah ! my d^ar, it's a great pity your religion 
 denies you the advantage of a confessor. My 
 beautiful cousin, you have need of a head with 
 more brains than lie within my nob to counsel 
 you. Your mother, she must have experience: 
 talk to her." 
 
 " Mamma did read me a lecture two days ago 
 
PETITE MAMAN'S ADVICE. 5 
 
 about M. de Pressy. She has forbidden him to 
 teach me philosophy, and means to be present at 
 all his visits. Will that hush the tongues of my 
 intimate enemies, do you think ? " 
 
 Louisa's manner had a recklessness in it which 
 alarmed Mdlle. St. Georo-es ; she beo-an to have 
 fears that Louisa had seen Severin de Pressy too 
 often already. She said decidedly, — 
 
 " You ask my advice — here it is ; forbid that 
 young man the house." 
 
 *• And how ? Am I to make him a curtsey and 
 say, ' Please, sir, give up my acquaintance — all the 
 ladies and gentlemen we know accuse us of being 
 in love with one another ? '" 
 
 " You are too clever not to be able to make him 
 understand your real wishes as to his too frequent 
 visits," said Mdlle. St. Georges. 
 
 "But I have no wish to give up receiving 
 M. de Pressy — he is very pleasant, and, indeed, 
 instructive. He is teaching me to employ my 
 time rationally, and I should imagine from the 
 grave warnings he gives me as to my frivolity and 
 that of my associates, he must be almost as good as 
 
6 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 a confessor. No, if I give liira up, it will be to 
 please you." 
 
 " Did Severin ever talk to you of his family ? " 
 
 '' No, never ; he has always kept to literary 
 and scientific subjects — he has made me compre- 
 hend the difference between a fulcrum and a 
 lever." 
 
 " Severin is the last surviving representative of 
 one of our noblest and oldest Lorraine families. Of 
 all the possessions of his house, he has scarcely 
 anything but the name. His father espoused the 
 cause of the Duchesse de Berri, and was killed in 
 La Vendee. His mother lives in the hopes of his 
 marrying a rich cousin, with whom he has been 
 brought up, and thus redeeming his lost fortunes.'* 
 
 " And you are afraid of my spoiling this wise 
 plan," said Louisa, laughing. " Set your heart at 
 rest, ma cousine, I will not ruin M. de Pressy's 
 prospects — many thanks for your good advice. I 
 must, however, leave you ; I am sure all your 
 neighbours are accusing me of taking a sentimental 
 w^alk with this descendant of the Crusaders — adieu. 
 
 ma cousine." 
 
PETITE MAMAN'S ADVICE. 7 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges said to herself, as she closed 
 the door on Madame de Villemont, — 
 
 "This is what one gets for meddling — poor 
 young thing — ah ! she's in a bad way " 
 
 A hasty ring of the door bell interrupted her 
 monologue ; it was Louisa again. 
 
 '' I have come back to tell you that I have re- 
 pented of my rudeness to you — I am grateful for 
 the interest you have shown in me — I don't believe 
 you had any other motive than my good — forgive 
 me for being so thankless and ill-tempered — will 
 you ? I shall not allow M. de Pressy or any 
 other monsieur to come paying me regular visits 
 till I am past fifty. Now, will you always be my 
 friend, and, when I am dull, may I come to you ? 
 I declare, I think I'll take to learning cooker}^ — 
 will you teach me how to make beautiful pre- 
 serves, such as those you sent us — I never saw 
 any so beautiful." 
 
 " Flatterer ! " said Mdlle. St. Georges, tapping 
 the pretty cheek upheld to her ; " if you want 
 work, sometimes give our Marguerite a music 
 lesson — that will be a work of charitv." 
 
 » » -j-i 1 1 ' I .. I ■■ 
 
8 ONCE ASD AGAIN. 
 
 " To be sure I will," replied Louisa, in a cheer- 
 ful, kind voice ; " shall she come to me, or shall 
 I come here ? " 
 
 " My dear, we have no piano." 
 
 " That settles the matter," said Louisa : " will 
 you send her every day at twelve ? " 
 
 Louisa went home with a liMiter heart than she 
 liad had when she set out. She had talked herself 
 out of the fears of what the Mrs. Grundys of 
 the town had said or were savinor of her — she 
 had the pleasant consciousness of having made a 
 friend — she was pleased, too, with the idea of 
 being useful to any one. 
 
 Youth sees a hope in every new event — old 
 age foresees a chance of trouble in every change. 
 When Louisa told her mother that she was going 
 to teach Marguerite St. Georges music, Mrs. 
 Templar said, sharply, — 
 
 ** You have done a very imprudent thing ; you 
 will see that you have brought an old house on 
 your shoulders." 
 
 " Dear mamma, what harm can come of my 
 teaching this poor child ? Whom can it injure ? " 
 
PETITE MAMAN'S ADVICE. 9 
 
 *^ You'll see," continued Mrs. Templar; "it 
 won't stop with tlie piano. After that is settled, 
 it will be something else, until at last you will 
 find yourself saddled with the girl for good and 
 all. However, it's no business of mine." 
 
 '* What's the use of continually dreading the 
 future, mamma, and so spoiling the present ? " 
 
 " I needn't say take your own way, for you 
 always did and always will ; but just consider 
 what you have made of it." 
 
 " Surely in this instance, doing a kindness to 
 those who deserve it, and who, as connections of 
 M. de Villemont, have a right to kindness from 
 me, cannot be wrong. My life is useless enough." 
 
 " That's your own fault ; you have a husband 
 and a mother to attend to." 
 
 " I shall not be less anxious about you, mamma. 
 I shall take nothino; from M. de Villemont that he 
 will miss. Do, mamma, approve of my teaching 
 Marguerite," and Louisa turned a pleading face to 
 her mother. 
 
 " I have no authority over you now ; so what 
 necessity is there for my approval ? I believe you 
 
10 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 will live to regret what you are going to under- 
 take ; if ever you do, remember I warned you." 
 
 Louisa could not be convinced that there must 
 be a gerai of trouble hidden in the music lessons 
 to Marguerite St. Georges ; so the next day she 
 welcomed her pupil affectionately, and thus began 
 the entanglement of the thread of their two lives. 
 Had Mrs. Templar really possessed the power of 
 seeing into the future, even she must have shed 
 tears at seeing Louisa so unconsciously preparing 
 the way for the crowning grief of her life. 
 
 Marguerite was at that time a half-grown girl 
 of fourteen ; her features were irregular; never- 
 theless, there was something Raphaelesque in her 
 face — in the peculiar arch of her eyebrows — in the 
 roundness of her smooth forehead — above all, iu 
 the expression of her hazel eyes. Her whole air 
 was demure, nun-like ; so much so that the work- 
 men and workwomen of her parish had given her 
 the name of la Sainte Vierge. She had been sent as 
 a child to the Convent of the Dames Dominicaines, 
 but after her first communion Mdlle. St. Georges 
 had insisted on takinc; her home. The srirl was so 
 
PETITE MAJ^IAN'S ADVICE. 11 
 
 piousj so absorbed in religious ceremonies, that the 
 aunt, who had Kttle turn that way, had taken 
 fright lest Marguerite's religious feelings should 
 be wrought up to the point of taking the veil. 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges had shown great spirit and 
 determination in thus acting. She had been given 
 to understand that, if her niece were left at the 
 convent, the priests would find her a husband, 
 which Petite Maman was unlikely herself to accom- 
 plish, considering the tenuity of Marguerite's 
 dowry. The old lady had persisted against ad- 
 vice and even reproach ; she had pinched herself 
 a little more to afford Marguerite a daily lesson of 
 an hour from a governess, but music had been a 
 good utterly beyond even Petite Maman's energy 
 to obtain, until she had made her appeal to 
 Madame de Villemont. 
 
 Louisa was charmed with her pupil. The first 
 thing she thought of on awakening was of the 
 quaint little maiden, in whose innocent eyes 
 beamed such admiration and love for her music 
 mistress. This was Louisa's first initiation into 
 one of the greatest of human comforts — that of 
 
12 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 being of use to a fellow-being who lov^ed her — she 
 took Marguerite to her heart with all the enthu- 
 siasm of a nature which craved for affection. 
 
 Louisa thought little more of Severin de Pressy. 
 He, on the contrary, when debarred of IMadame 
 de Villemont's society, first perceived how dear it 
 was to him. He wrote to a friend describins: his 
 feelings. One paragraph ran thus : — 
 
 " Our affections do not always follow our judg- 
 ment; slie has few of the qualities with which I 
 have hitherto endowed my ideal. There is no 
 repose about her — no reflection — she acts solely 
 from impulse ; and thus I account for her marriage 
 with such an empty-headed, empty-hearted man as 
 her husband. She has talents — they are unculti- 
 vated — her mind is a wilderness, but full of the 
 sweetest wild-flowers — her heart is large — you 
 never surprise her expressing an ungenerous 
 sentiment. She is all purity and brightness, but 
 with a yieldingness of character contrary to my 
 ideas of the perfection of womanhood. Afler all, 
 though, the thought of her pre-occupies me, I 
 believe I have rather a strong, calm affection for 
 
PETITE MAMAN'S ADVICE. 13 
 
 her, than what is vulgarly called a passion. Our 
 pleasant intimacy has been interrupted by tittle- 
 tattle as to my frequent visits ; this has made my 
 days more lonely than ever, and solitude has a bad 
 effect on my nervous system." 
 
 The friend answered, — 
 
 " Your only remedy lies in flight ; apply for a 
 change, or for leave of absence ; go and spend 
 some weeks at home ; cultivate your young 
 cousin's talents, and don't break your mother's 
 heart, and ruin yourself — in short, don't be an 
 idiot. The strongest love does not endure so lonor 
 as a good estate." 
 
 Severin wrote back in Anselm's words, — 
 
 " Can a man forget one who is placed like a 
 seal upon his heart ? 
 
 " I have taken your advice so far ; I have seen 
 my mother, but only to tell her that she must look 
 out for another husband for Solanges. I shall 
 never marry her, or any woman I do not love ! " 
 
 Severin continued to live in Bar le Due ; it 
 was something to breathe the same air as she did, 
 somethinfj to see the walls of the house which 
 
14 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 she inhabited ; a great deal occasionally to catch 
 a glimpse of her. They rarely met in society, 
 for Severin never mixed in any gaiety that he 
 could plausibly avoid. When he did find himself 
 in the same salon with Louisa, a formal salutation 
 was all that passed between them ; it was Severin 
 who so resolutely withdrew from Louisa, not she 
 from him ; she could not understand whj^ he 
 should so rigorously avoid her. All gossip about 
 them was at an end ; why then refuse to be on the 
 same terms with her as were the other ijentlemen 
 of her acquamtance? 
 
( 15 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 
 
 At the end of the second year after Madame de 
 V^illemont's marriage, M. Remy, the old pastor 
 of Bar le Due, petitioned the Council General to 
 appoint a younger and abler man to take his 
 place. He was offered an assistant, but he 
 declined on the plea of his age and infirmities, 
 which rendered him incompetent for the duties 
 of a Protestant minister in a populous town. 
 The truth was that the newly-displayed hostility 
 of the priesthood of the department towards Pro- 
 testants had annoyed M. Remy for more than a 
 twelvemonth. Difficulties were constantly arising 
 in adjoining villagesj whenever a member of the 
 Reformed Church was to be buried ; the old 
 clergyman's tranquillity was disturbed — the finish- 
 
16 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 ing blow was given by the following letter, here 
 copied with all its numerous blunders : — 
 
 " Cher Pasteur, — 
 
 "J'ai une nouvelle a vous apprendre. 
 Aujourd'hui on a honord notre place de cimetiere, 
 en y enterrant une pendue, une femme qui, par 
 plusieurs vols, cependant a 6te attrappee au fait, 
 ayant elle meme auparavant accusee une autre 
 personne. Ellc en avait pour cinq ans peutetre, 
 pour en terminer plus vite, elle s'est donne la 
 mort. Me doutant bien que le cure ce gros Anti- 
 christ de G pourrait bien commander sa fosse 
 
 a cette place, j'avais commando a mon mari de voir 
 M. le Maire, et de le prevenir promptement de 
 ce qui allait arriver, et que pour eviter quelques 
 raisons, il ferait bien de prevenir le cure de 
 chercher une autre place; ayant fait un nouveau 
 cimetiere il a grandement de quoi logcr ces 
 gens-1^. 
 
 " Mon mari a etc tres mal recu, surtout qu'il 
 y avait beaucoup d'ouvriers a souper. Le Daniel 
 (the writer's husband) s'est trouve bien honteux, 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 17 
 
 car volci les paroles de M. le Maire ; qu'est ce 
 que vous me cliantez. Ces gens la, on les laisse 
 libre, on leur accorde tout, ils sont neanmolns de 
 plus en plus exigeants — peu m'importe a moi, qu'on 
 la met ou on voudra. 
 
 '' Ainsi voyez, M. le Pasteur, ce qu'il en 
 resulte. Aujourd'hui tout le monde dit, on a mis 
 cette coquine avec les Protestants, avec les cliiens. 
 Quand on a mesure cette place, le commissaire et 
 le maire etaient la, pour convenir de nous la 
 donner, j'aurai cru qu'apres cela, le cure ne vien- 
 drait plus a I'avenir nous amener, ses noyes et ses 
 pendus, ou peut-etre que M. le Prefet n'ayant pas 
 souscrit aux conventions que Ton avait fait, pour 
 cette place, comme il a souscrit pour une chambre, 
 alors il n'est pas etonnant que 1' Antichrist ne vient 
 nous braver jusqu'a ce point. 
 
 " M. Remv, si vous avez des droits, faites les 
 valoir, ou je ne sais ce que fen penserai. D'abord 
 on vous a cache qu'il y avait deja un pendu a 
 cette place, cependant ce pendu est de mon temps. 
 Aujourd'hui etant plus avance, je croyais que Ton 
 n'aurait plus cette efifronterie. Le cure met au 
 
 VOL. III. 41 
 
^ 18 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 defit quel ministre Protestant que ce soit, de lui 
 faire attirer un seul reproche — car dit-il ils n'ont 
 aucun droit. 
 
 " Nous en sommes bien humllies, bien mortifies, 
 nous prions le Seigneur qu'il veuille toujours 
 nous regarder d'un' ceil de misericorde sur cette 
 terre, s'ils en est tant d'autres qui nous mcprise. 
 "Mes cordiales salutations, 
 (Sic) "Michelle Coenouil." 
 
 On receiving this missive, with its menace, " ou 
 je ne sais ce que fen innserai,'"' M. Remy hired a 
 vehicle and betook himself to Vitry, of which 
 Marc de Lantry was pastor. Marc gave both 
 advice and help, and redress was easily obtained 
 from the prefet, a man of a liberal mind, but the 
 worry and uneasiness had fairly broken M. Remy's 
 spirit ; his application for removal was attended to, 
 and Marc de Lantry was invited to become the 
 pastor of Bar le Due. 
 
 "What a lucky chance for me," exclaimed 
 Louisa. 
 
 Ay, to be sure, there arc many good chances 
 
A SHADOW or THE PAST. 19 
 
 as well as bad in life — good influences as well as 
 evil ; only we are all apt to have a more retentive 
 memory for what has been bitter than for what 
 has been sweet. 
 
 Nevertheless, after the first pleasure of renewed 
 intimacy was over, Louisa's spirits drooped. 
 Admitted within the sanctuary of happy married 
 life, she saw what love in marriage was ; once 
 more she keenly felt how she had thrown away 
 her life — she relapsed into restlessness, novel-read- 
 ing, dissipation — caring less and less for Mar- 
 guerite's improvement. Petite Maman, struggling 
 to content an extravagant old fop — patching, 
 darning, marketing, cheapening; Petite Maman, 
 resigned to all that had reference to herself, had 
 been an encouraging example to Louisa. Ismay's 
 victories over a naturally indolent nature, her 
 patience and sympathy with every one — and they 
 were many — who came to her with some sad story 
 or some suffering, were never so much as per- 
 ceived by Madame de Yillemont. All was merged 
 in the nimbus with which Marc's devoted love 
 surrounded his wife. 
 
 41—2 
 
20 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa often sought the De Lantrys ; she 
 watched them witli the intense interest of one 
 bent on a discovery. 
 
 " Poor Louisa ! " said Ismay, one day after one 
 of these visits. "Marc, don't be so kind to me 
 when she is here ; it makes her angry." 
 
 "If the sight of the happiness of others has 
 that effect upon her, then she needs a sermon, and 
 she shall have one," replied Marc. 
 
 The opportunity soon occurred, but not the ser- 
 mon. Louisa came to M. de Lantry with a second 
 novel of Gustave Gastineau's, sent to her as the 
 first had been, wet from the printing-office. It had 
 the same dedication as the previous one ; it con- 
 tained yet more sneers against women, and it was 
 stained by many a coarse description. Still there 
 were noble pages in it; there were also painful 
 pictures of the depression of spirit engendered by 
 his poverty ; here is one paragraph, — 
 
 " I learned to despise myself for the very thing 
 of which I ought to have been proud — my labour. 
 I did not feel myself a man ; I could not be at my 
 ease with rich men, who, I was well aware, must 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 21 
 
 have gone to the poor-house, had they lost their 
 money, for they were unable, like me, to gain their 
 daily bread. What a debt of gratitude I owe to 
 her who first taught me the overwhelming advan- 
 tages of a long purse and a title, over brains and 
 a heart," and so on. 
 
 Louisa rose from the perusal of the book with 
 a shudder ; she said to Marc, " Gustave Gastineau 
 is my determined enemy, he is bent on revenge ; 
 he thinks me happy — ah! if he could know the 
 truth ! " 
 
 The words were uttered quietly, but there 
 was such a reality of pain in them, that Marc's 
 intended sermon went out of his head. The 
 pastor gave place to the indignant man. 
 
 " Whether he believes you happy or not, what 
 he has done is a bad action." 
 
 '^ Oh ! M. de Lantry, to think that a girl's one 
 foolish act should mar her whole life. If I live to 
 be a hundred it must always be the same. You 
 can never have an idea of what I suffer when 
 I see you and Ism ay together, when I see the 
 comfort of mutual confidence, when I see that, let 
 
22 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 what would happen to Ismay, you would always 
 cherish her. I feel when I am with you both, as 
 the rich man in hell did when he saw Lazarus in 
 Abraham's bosom." • 
 
 " My dear Madame de Yillemont, don't use 
 such lanojuao^e." 
 
 " I don't mean to be profane — you remember 
 me in the Rue de Varennes, how every one petted 
 me ; all that seems so long ago, as if it belonged 
 to another existence. I can scarcely believe I was 
 ever that happy little Louisa ! " 
 
 "Are you sure that you do not exaggerate 
 your discomforts? that, because you have been 
 disappointed in some things, you do not see every 
 thino; en noir ? M. de Villemont is never unkind 
 to you, I am sure." 
 
 Louisa said, " Do you suppose I did not 
 struggle for happiness when I first married ; 
 that I did not try to make my husband love 
 me ? Ay, that I did, and I have found out for 
 my pains, that the only way to live tolerably well 
 with him is to make him feel mv indifference ; 
 he despises heart. Dear M. Marc, be my good 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 23 
 
 counsellor, look after me, keep me from doing 
 wrong. I am afraid of my own thoughts — years 
 and years of this weary life to bear ! " 
 
 "Courage," said Marc; "you have failed in 
 obtaining one sort of happiness — overcome the 
 evil fate you helped to bring on yourself, and in 
 so doing you will discover another kind of happi- 
 ness. You have had a sort of triumphant pleasure, 
 haven't you, in battling with a stormy wind — 
 that's the sort of joy reserved for those who battle 
 acrainst trials. You talk of lono' life — the lousiest, 
 what is it, but a few years, and then if we have 
 done our work faithfully — an eternity of bliss." 
 
 Another spring and summer went by : it was 
 now autumn. M. de Villemont's manner had 
 changed to Louisa ; he was often now rude to her 
 before strangers, a savage look came into his eyes 
 when they rested on her. Louisa terrified herself 
 by thinking that he had either himself read or 
 been told of those cruel books of Gustave Gasti- 
 neau. She never guessed that he resented her 
 being childless, as if it had been a wilful crime. 
 
 Mrs. Templar had grown quieter ; she still 
 
24 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 passed her days among half-packed trunks, but 
 
 she had given np all talk of going away ; she read 
 
 her prayer-book a good deal, and more than once 
 
 » 
 
 Louisa fancied that her mother looked as if she 
 
 had been sheddino; tears. The mere thouclit that 
 
 such mii^ht be the case, went like a stab to the 
 
 daughter's heart. 
 
 " I am putting all my papers In order/' said 
 Mrs. Templar one day at dinner, without pai'- 
 ticularly addressing either M. or ]Madame de 
 Villemont. " I wish M. de Blacourt to look 
 them over before any other person sees them." 
 
 " Mamma, you are quite well ? " exclaimed 
 Louisa, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, but nobody can say what a day may 
 bring forth. ' Put your house in order,' is a good 
 precept. You need not alarm yourself, Louisa ; 
 making a will never killed any one." 
 
 Louisa watched her mother narrowly; she could 
 discover no siirns of illness in her; she walked as 
 stoutl^^ as ever, and even seemed more erect in 
 fifrure; still she could not shake oft' a certain 
 uneasiness. 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 25 
 
 After this conversation, whenever her mother 
 was later than usual in returning from her walk, 
 Louisa used to set out either with Marguerite St, 
 Georges, or with a servant, towards the wood 
 Mrs. Templar generally frequented. 
 
 On one of these occasions she met Marc de 
 Lantrj at the top of the hill and he joined her. 
 
 " How quiet the birds are," said Louisa, " and 
 only a month ago there was a concert of song from 
 every tree." 
 
 A yellow moss bee was creeping over the turf; 
 a blackbird rose heavily with a " cluck, cluck," 
 from beneath a tree, and hid itself among the 
 branches. All at once there was a sound of loud 
 laughter — that kind of laughter which gives the 
 impression of disorder and impropriety. The next 
 instant a woman, accompanied by two soldiers, 
 came in sight. Marc walked forward ; as he 
 did so the female drew away, trying to hide her- 
 self behind the trunks of the beeches. 
 
 " My daughter," said the pastor, " I regret 
 to see you again straying from the fold of the 
 Good Shepherd." 
 
26 O^X'E AND AGAIN, 
 
 The person lie spoke to slunk quite away into 
 a by-path. 
 
 " Who is that woman ? " asked Louisa, in a 
 startled voice. 
 
 " A castaway — I am afraid one utterly lost. 
 
 The first time I ever saw her was, strangely 
 
 enough, in our little church at Vitry. She 
 
 sauntered in out of mere curiosity. I guessed 
 
 what she was, and I chose for the chapter of 
 
 the day, the one with the parable of the prodigal 
 
 son, and I made a few remarks that I thought 
 
 miiiht encourag-e her to forsake her evil wavs. 
 
 She left the church before the sermon was over. 
 
 Ismay and I thought it our duty to seek her out ; 
 
 and my wife found needlework for her, and did all 
 
 she could to induce her to live a respectable life ; 
 
 we had hopes of saving her — she was clever w^itli 
 
 her needle. Ismay supposed she must once have 
 
 been a femme de chambre. However, after a 
 
 couple of weeks she came to our house, gave 
 
 the bundle of linen entrusted to her to our cook, 
 
 and left word that she was tired of work. I have 
 
 never seen her since until this moment." 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 27 
 
 " Is she young ? " asked Louisa. 
 
 "No, she cannot be much less than forty — thirty- 
 seven or thirty-eight she told Ismay. She has 
 purely cut features, but her face is rather repul- 
 sive than attractive." - 
 
 "I suppose it is nonsense/' said Louisa, "but she 
 made my heart beat. Do you know, just the one 
 glimpse I got of her made me suddenly remember 
 that odious Laure, whom M. Granson forced 
 mamma to take as lady's-maid when we went to 
 Versailles ? Mamma has never spoken to me on the 
 subject ; but from what I recollect, I am sure my 
 poor mother was ill-treated. It is twelve years since 
 then, and Laure must have altered very much." 
 
 " Not as much as you have done changing from 
 a child into a woman," said Marc. " I do not 
 imagine, however, you would be able after such 
 a lapse of time to recognize Laure — why, you 
 were not nine years old then." 
 
 " I have never forgotten her peculiar look ; 
 whenever I have bad dreams even now, it's 
 always about Laure and M. Granson. I am 
 sure I should recognize either of them any- 
 
28 ONCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 where." She added, in a voice of alarm, " I 
 hope and trust mamma has not met that woman 
 — let us go on faster." 
 
 One person's real terror will communicate itself 
 to another. Marc was almost as relieved as Louisa 
 when, at the next turn of the woodland path they 
 were following, .they perceived Mrs. Templar. 
 She was walking quietly. Stop, the Newfoundland, 
 gravely marching at her side. Mrs. Templar saw 
 M. de Lantry and her daughter perfectly well, but 
 she c^ave no sio^n of recocynition — she went on 
 speaking to the dog : 
 
 " There's a wise dog, and a good dog, good dog 
 — he is not ungrateful. Stop, my pet." 
 
 " Should you have supposed that mamma could 
 speak in such a caressing tone ? " said Louisa to 
 Marc ; " it's only to a dog, though." 
 
 " I never saw any one but your mother who 
 gave me the idea of a living tragedy," observed 
 Marc, as the tall, gaunt figure in black came for- 
 wards, with a slow, almost majestic step. " Poor 
 soul, she looks like one whose mind is jangled and 
 out of tune." 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 29 
 
 " It is quite unnecessary, Louisa, your coming 
 to meet me," were Mrs. Templar's first words ; 
 " why should you do now what you never did 
 before M. de Lantry came ? " 
 
 Mrs. Templar never would receive any atten- 
 tion from Louisa without repaying it by a poisoned 
 hint. 
 
 *; " I do not wonder that Madame de Villemont is 
 alarmed about you," said Marc. " The woods are 
 full of sportsman ; we have heard a dozen shots, 
 I am sure, since we came up the hill." 
 
 "I have not met a soul," replied the lady, ^^and 
 the shots were in an opposite direction to where 
 Stop and I were, — weren't they. Stop, my fine 
 fellow?" she said, as she stooped to caress the 
 dog. " Dear Stop, he is faithful and honest, he is 
 — doesn't fawn on me one moment and desert me 
 the next. Do you like dogs, M. de Lantry ? " 
 
 " Very much," he replied ; " but I prefer the 
 society of human beings." 
 
 " So I should suppose from your very sociable 
 disposition. I observe that you make friends of 
 your carpenter and shoemaker." 
 
30 02sCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 *' And capital fellows they are," returned Marc. 
 " You don't figure to yourself all the help those men 
 afford to their poorer neighbours : yes, madame, I 
 allow it— I feel that every man and w^oman is my 
 equal ; they are fashioned as I am, have heads and 
 hands and feet as I have." 
 
 " You would make a friend, then, of that man ? " 
 and Mrs. Templar pointed to a dirty fellow, half 
 tipsy, rolling from side to side of the road. 
 
 " I should not like to sit down to table with 
 him, because he is unpleasant to come near, but I 
 know that he is born with the same faculties that 
 I have, and that the germ of all that is in me is in 
 him. I have no right to despise him because he 
 is unwashed and untaught." 
 
 " I would not believe that any other man who 
 said what you say, lived up to his words, ]M. de 
 Lantry. You were always a good creature. I 
 remember how good you were to those wretched 
 Gastincaux. I was kind to them also, and in 
 return for mv kindness thev ruined me and 
 that poor girl," looking at Louisa ; " father and 
 son were alike fatal to mother and dauo-hter." 
 
A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 31 
 
 Meeting Marc's questioning eyes, she added, " I 
 owed Professor Gastineau a debt which his son's 
 conduct has doubled." 
 
 " I am sincerely grateful to you for your good 
 opinion of me," said Marc ; " you have never 
 resented my being frank with you, nor will you 
 now, I hope, when in return for your expression 
 of good-will towards me, I tell you that, you are 
 wrong, wrong to yourself as much as to others, in 
 cherishing unforgiving feelings towards any one. 
 I don't know what might be the offence Professor 
 Gastineau gave you ; but, let it have been what 
 it would, the command is express, ^ Forgive your 
 neighbour, though he offend seventy times.' " 
 
 " / cannot^'' sa^l Mrs. Templar ; " I allow you 
 to tell me that it is wricked. I agree with you ; 
 nevertheless, as long as I have my reason, there 
 are offences I shall never forgive — no — never." 
 
 Louisa lingered a little behind the speakers. 
 Mrs. Templar turned round, and, looking at her 
 daughter, saw tears trembling like dewdrops on 
 those lono; lashes she had gloried over with a 
 mother's pride, when Louisa was a child. Louisa's 
 
32 ONCE AND AG.UX. 
 
 eyes met tliosc of her mother ; moved by a 
 sudden impulse, Mrs. Templar said, — 
 
 " I am not alluding to anything you ever did, 
 you silly child ; do you hear ? " 
 
 " That's right," said Marc, as Louisa hung 
 fondly on her mother's arm ; " comfort one 
 another." 
 
 "As if I could mean ill by my own child," 
 said Mrs. ^Templar, as they entered the courtyard 
 of Clairefonds. 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CROIX KOUGE. 
 
 The next morning, while they were still at break- 
 fast, her maid brought Louisa a scrap of paper, 
 on which was written in pencil : — • 
 
 "The colporteur by whom I send this, is a 
 Protestant ; he has an old Calvin Bible for sale ; 
 none of my flock, except you or Mrs. Templar, 
 are rich enough to buy it. From the style of 
 printing, it is of the date of 1572 ; I think it 
 worth having. The man says he bought it from 
 an Anabaptist family in the Vosges. 
 
 "Marc de LANTRr." 
 
 " What's it all about," asked M. de Villemont, 
 TOL. III. 42 
 
(( 
 
 ii 
 
 34 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 eyeing the paper Louisa was reading, suspici- 
 ously. 
 
 Louisa read aloud what ^larc had written ; 
 when she had finished, she said, — 
 
 I suppose I may see the man here ? " 
 I am sure you have Bibles enough already,'* 
 said M. de Yillemont, in a surly voice. 
 
 " I'll buy it, my dear," Mrs. Templar said. 
 " You don't receive many presents, nor spend 
 raucli on yourself. Let us go and speak to the 
 man in tiie hall," and Mrs. Templar left the room, 
 followed by Louisa. 
 
 But they found, instead of the colporteur, only 
 a girl of perhaps twelve years old. She held a 
 large quarto Bible in her arms. Monsieur Jacques 
 had bid her brincr it to Clairefonds. 
 
 "Why didn't M. Jacques, as 3-ou call him, 
 come himself ? " asked Louisa. 
 
 " I don't know ; he sent me with the book. I 
 amito have ten francs for it." 
 
 " Arc you his dauMiter ? " 
 
 " No, madame, he is lodging with my father." 
 
 " And who is your father ? *' 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 35 
 
 " Pierre Roussel, the carpenter." 
 
 " Are you sure you are telling the truth — that 
 he told you the price was ten francs ? " asked 
 Mrs. Templar. 
 
 "He said ten francs, and that you were rich 
 and could afford to pay." 
 
 " Let me buy it, mamma ? " said Louisa. 
 
 " No, I meant what I said ; there's the money ; 
 I daresay the hawker is a cheat. Now, take the 
 Bible, Louisa ; I give it to you." 
 
 About an hour afterwards, the pastor came to 
 call. Louisa was singing some of Claude Marot's 
 hymns, the words and music of which were at 
 the end of the old Bible. Mrs. Templar, for a 
 wonder, Avas in the room, and Marc's large, kind 
 heart dilated as he thought, — 
 
 " Here's the beginning, I hope, of a new era for 
 these two women. The Lord be thanked." He 
 added aloud : " Pray go on, Madame de Ville- 
 mont; it is a treat to hear you." 
 
 She sang another hymn ; when it was ended, 
 Mrs. Templar said, — 
 
 " I have an idea your protege is pious, for he 
 
 42—2 
 
36 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 knows how to make a good bargain. I paid ten 
 francs for the Bible, double its value, probably." 
 
 " I should not say so ; if there had been the 
 date, it would have been worth more, but what 
 did you think of the man himself? " 
 
 " He did not come," said Louisa ; " he sent 
 Roussel's little daughter." 
 
 '' I am sorry you have not seen him ; I should 
 have liked to hear what impression he made on 
 you ; women have a supernatural instinct in 
 judging of characters. I am divided between his 
 bemg a knave, a good Christian, or out of his 
 mind. I heard of his being at Pierre Eoussel's, 
 and I was surprised at his not coming to my 
 liouse, as our book-hawkers generally do, so I 
 thought I would go down to the ville-basse to 
 make some inquiries about him, in fact, to verify 
 whether he had a licence. He was already in bed 
 when I got to Roussel's, but I went to his room 
 and asked to look over his books, and to see his 
 licence. He made no difficulty as to showing me 
 both ; the books wcr.e in a box in a corner of the 
 room, and his papers there also. He informed me 
 
THE CROIX EOUGE. 37 
 
 that he had intended to come to me as this morn- 
 ing, that he had walked far, and was footsore, and 
 had, therefore, gone early to bed. 
 
 " I entered into conversation with him ; at first 
 he was reserved, but he gradually relaxed. His 
 voice and choice of words denoted a person of 
 some education ; I guessed he came from Alsace ; 
 his accent had a strong German twang. When 
 I was wishing him good-night, he inquired if he 
 were likely to find a purchaser for an old Bible, 
 and then I mentioned Madame de Villemont as 
 the only Protestant in the town likely to give the 
 price he wanted ; he asked me for your address 
 and a word of recommendation. As I was for tlie 
 second time taking my leave, he again stopped m^a 
 and said abruptly, — *Are you ever kept awake 
 at night by thoughts about the Scriptures?' I 
 answered, ' No ; that I had always enough to 
 do during the day to make me sleep well at night.' 
 ' I have a question to propound to you,' he 
 went on ; ^ have you ever considered what was 
 the nature of Adam's sin ? ' ^ For what do you 
 take me, my good friend ? ' I asked ; ' a believer 
 
38 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 or an unbeliever in the Scriptures ? ' ' That's 
 not the question, M. le Pasteur. In reading and 
 studying the story of Adam, did it never strike 
 you that Adam had already sinned before he ate 
 the half of the apple ? ' I said, ' Certainly I had 
 not thought that. He went on quickly, ' "VYhat's 
 the meaning, then, that we are told that God said, 
 '^ It is not good for man to be alone ; I will make 
 him an helpmate ? " What made God see that 
 necessity but the knowledge that Adam had 
 already sinful desires — eh, M. le Pasteur ? ' ' You 
 go too deep for me,' I replied. Without, as it 
 were, hearing me, he exclaimed, ' And can you 
 explain why the devil only appeared in person to 
 Jesus Christ ? I'll give you my idea, sir : Jesus 
 Christ was innocent, and Satan could not enter 
 into his thoughts, therefore he must tempt him 
 externally ; he can enter into the minds and hearts 
 of all mankind.' * Yes, yes, we are all possessed, 
 and our sins should not be imputed to us.' " 
 
 "I say the man is a knave,'- exclaimed Mrs. 
 Templar. 
 
 '^ He is crazed," said Louisa. 
 
THE CROIX KOUGE. 39 
 
 The two opinions were expressed simultaneously. 
 
 " Which of you has guessed right ? " said Marc, 
 " I confess the impression made on me was dis- 
 agreeable. I came here intending to form my 
 opinion by yours ; but as you have not seen M. 
 Jacques, I shall go and have a look at my new 
 acquaintance by daylight." 
 
 "And what of that unfortunate creature we 
 met the other evening ? " said Louisa. " I can't 
 get her out of my thoughts ; if I could help to 
 save her. . . . " 
 
 " Ah ! that's a lost case, I fear. I met her as I 
 left Roussel's last evening — she turned on me like 
 a viper. ' You needn't seek me,' she said ; ' I 
 don't want you — let me alone, I tell you — why 
 don't you go to those other houses ? You might 
 do the folks there some good, you can't me — I am 
 on the road to hell, and I mean to go there — do 
 you hear — I was happy once — I had religion — I 
 am condemned, for I had light, and I chose dark- 
 ness. I tell you, there's no hope for me ; there's 
 Martine drinks and lies ; Suzette and Celestine — 
 they thieve, and lie, and do worse — they may be 
 
40 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 saved, but there's no hope for me ; I liave sinned 
 the sin that's never to he pardoned. Go along 
 and don't waste your time on me.' She struck me 
 on the arm and ran away." 
 
 *' What strange things you see and hear," 
 exclaimed Louisa, aghast. 
 
 '' Yes ; very different from what you see and 
 hear in your world of show and sham. Lift the 
 curtain, however, and you'll find the same pas- 
 sions at work, the same vices, even the same 
 
 crimes." 
 
 *' Do you really think ladies and gentlemen ai*e 
 as wicked as the lower classes ? " 
 
 " Do I think it ? I know it ; why else the 
 terrific warnino-s to the rich which abound in the 
 gospel ? " 
 
 As M. de Lantry went out of the courtyard 
 Cates, Marguerite St. Georges came in. As soon 
 as the music lesson began, i\Irs. Templar retired 
 to her own room. Presently M. de Villemont 
 came into the salon ; he was in l^s shooting dress. 
 He said, — 
 
 " Louisa, tell your mother that I have taken 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 41 
 
 Stop with me to-day. I am going to try him as a 
 retriever. Bredy will dine here; we have got 
 permission to shoot in the royal forest," and he 
 left the room with an " au revoir " to both ladies. 
 
 " How do you say ' au revoir' in English? " asked 
 Marguerite, who was picking up some English 
 words from hearing Mrs. Templar and . Louisa 
 speak to each other in that language. 
 
 " I don't remember any exact equivalent for 
 it; we have no leave-takins; so cheerful as au 
 revoir ; no, our good-by and farewell are blessings 
 — they have in them no hint of meeting again." 
 
 " Dear Madame de Yillemont, I should so like 
 to learn English," said Marguerite. 
 
 " Don't ask me to teach you, dear ; I could 
 never teach any one English," replied Louisa, 
 with quickness. 
 
 Marguerite was so accustomed to Louisa's 
 always readily acceding to any request she made, 
 that she could not help showing her surprise at 
 this downright refusal. Nevertheless, Louisa said 
 nothing explanatory, but proposed they should go 
 on with the duet, " Giorno d'orrore," which they 
 
42 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 had been singing when interrupted by M. de 
 Villemont. 
 
 As Mrs. Templar never went out before two 
 o'clock, the hour at which she and Louisa were in 
 the habit of taking a cup of soup or chocolate 
 together, Madame de Yillemont had not thought it 
 necessary to go and give her husband's message 
 about Stop until after Marguerite's lesson was 
 finished. Mrs. Templar was then neither in her 
 own room nor in the garden. 
 
 " Where's mamma ? " inquired Louisa of one 
 servant after the other. 
 
 No one had seen Mrs. Templar go out. 
 
 " It's so unlike my mother not to ask for Stop ; 
 I cannot believe that she has gone to walk," 
 observed Louisa. 
 
 ** Perhaos some one in the street could tell us if 
 
 i. 
 
 she has passed by," said Marguerite. 
 
 They had to displace a group of tiny girls 
 playing on the step outside the great gates ; the 
 eldest of them answered that she had seen the 
 tall lady in black go up the street, right up to the 
 top : she was walking towards the wood. 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 43 
 
 What a lovely day that was ! not like an October 
 day — warm as summer, and not a cloud in the 
 blue sky. From where they stood, Louisa and 
 Marguerite could see the first group of trees, the 
 vanguard of the wood, which was Mrs. Templar's 
 favourite walk, and the general rendezvous of the 
 townsfolk. In the autumn, the country round 
 Bar le Due assumes a strange appearance, which 
 we never see in England ; the vine-covered slopes 
 are then no longer green, but of a deep mottled 
 red; and as for the woods, so full of limes and 
 sumachs, they look all aflame when the sun 
 shines ; never more fiery than on this bright 
 October day. 
 
 " I wish I had given M. de Yillemont's message 
 to mamma," said Louisa, more to herself than to 
 Marguerite. As she spoke, a hillon, loaded with 
 grapes, went past ; the driver was tipsy, a young 
 man and a girl were behind, the girl carrying a 
 large nosegay, with long particoloured streamers, 
 the bouquet de vendange ; they were all three noisily 
 merry. 
 
 "I must find some one to go with me to the 
 
44 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 \voocl5" exclaimed Louisa, in a panic ; " if I can 
 get no one else, I must take Jacquot. Perhaps 
 your uncle is at home," she said to Mai'fjuerite ; 
 " let us go and see." 
 
 ** Bring me my garden-hat, ]\ranette," she 
 called to the old woman watchino; them from a 
 window. 
 
 When Louisa and Marguerite reached the St. 
 Georges' house, Petite Maman had just finished 
 dressing the colonel for the day. The old gentle- 
 man was charmed to be the beautiful Madame de 
 Villemont's escort ; he was ready to ^o all over the 
 world with her, at the same time he was confident 
 that no harm would or could happen to Mrs. 
 Templar — had not the lady perlustrated the wood 
 in every sense for months? — she had never met 
 with incivility. Every one respected grey hairs 
 (the colonel's were dyed). 
 
 '' All you say is reasonable," answered Louisa ; 
 " but it seems so odd she should have gone out 
 without inquiring for Stop, and not at her usual 
 hour either ; a dog like Stop is a great pro- 
 tection, and then there are so many people 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 45 
 
 about shooting : it may be very foolish, but I 
 am uneasy." 
 
 The colonel could not walk very fast over the 
 stony road in his tight boots; once among the 
 trees, on the paths strewn with fallen leaves, the 
 old officer could better keep up with the impatient 
 steps of his companion. 
 
 "My heart beats so," exclaimed Louisa, and 
 stood still. 
 
 '•' No wonder, dear lady, when you walk so 
 fast." 
 
 " It is not that," she said. 
 
 " You mean you are alarmed — a good sign," 
 returned the colonel ; " whenever I expected to 
 be hit in battle, I always escaped ; it's just when 
 one believes oneself safest and happiest, that 
 misfortune occurs." 
 
 Louisa tried to smile and look convinced. The 
 wood w^as traversed in every direction by alleys. 
 Louisa, followed by M. St. Georges, struck into 
 one which ran north, for the reason that it led 
 direct to the Croix Rouo-e : close to which was a 
 bench, where her mother often rested. This large 
 
46 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 red cross stood on the edge of the royal forest, 
 just where the path Louisa and the colonel were 
 pursuing, debouched on a higli road, dividing the 
 two woods. 
 
 When M. de Villemont sallied forth that morn- 
 ing, Mrs. Templar had seen from her bed-room 
 window that he was followed by Stop coupled with 
 Sultan. 
 
 " That's to pay me off, I suppose, for taking 
 Louisa's part about the Bible," thouglit Mrs. 
 Templar. " Mean fellow ! " 
 
 She had gone as far as the salon door to com- 
 plain to her daughter, but the sound of the two 
 sweet fresh voices united in a duet, changed her 
 mood. 
 
 " Poor Louisa ! " she said to herself, " how she 
 used to hate practising, and now it is her great 
 consolation." 
 
 The old lady went back to her room, and made 
 restless by a certain irritation produced by the 
 incidents of the morning, trifling as they both 
 were, and lured too by the glorious sunshine, she 
 put on her bonnet and went into the gai'den, in- 
 
THE CKOIX liOUGE. 47 
 
 tending to return to the house as soon as Mar- 
 guerite should be gone. 
 
 Jacquot was busy cutting down faded annuals, 
 and the walks were almost impassable for stalks 
 and leaves. Mrs. Templar left the garden, and 
 strolled on, almost without intending it, into the 
 wood, and so on till she was in sight of the Croix 
 Rouge. The only living things that had crossed 
 her path were a weasel stealing from one covert to 
 another, and a pair of blue jays, which she knew 
 had a nest in the beech overhanging the cross. 
 As she was emerging from the wood, she per- 
 ceived a man seated on the bench by the side of 
 the cross ; his back was to her, but his dress, the 
 shabby black coat of an itinerant preacher, with 
 the box of books at his feet, at once led her to 
 conclude this must be the very colporteur of 
 whom M. de Lantry had been speaking. At the 
 sound of footsteps the traveller half turned round ; 
 that nameless somethinor which makes us recoo- 
 nize at any distance those with whom we are 
 familiar, now caused Mrs. Templar to hurry 
 forward. She stared at M. Jacques — for it was 
 
48 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 he — for a brief moment, then, ere he could collect 
 his thoughts, she had seized him by the collar of 
 his coat, and shaking him with all the strength 
 that passion lent her, she said, in the broken husky 
 voice of rage, — 
 
 "Villain, cheat, swindler, thief! I have caught 
 you at last — at last ! " 
 
 These words were spoken in English, in tones 
 scarcely human ; they sounded like the snarl of a 
 tigress. The man did not utter a syllable, he 
 tried by main strength to make his assailant loose 
 her hold ; he did not, to the credit of manhood be 
 it said, strike her — he strove to wrench his coat 
 from her grasp, but Mrs. Templar was a strong 
 woman, and her strength was doubled by her fury. 
 He untwisted her fingers from his collar, she had 
 him again by the breast of his coat, by his shirt, 
 b}^ his hair, uttering at the same time short sharp 
 screams for help. 
 
 Her cries reached the ears of two sportsmen 
 in the forest, and they hurried towards the spot 
 from whence they seemed to issue. 
 
 " Bon Dieu ! mais c'est ma belle-mere qu'on tuc," 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 49 
 
 exclaimed M. de Villemont, with a bound for- 
 wards. 
 
 At the sight of this new danger, the colporteur 
 managed to throw Mrs. Templar down, and made 
 off into the wood. 
 
 " Stop him — stop the thief ! " cried Mrs. Tem- 
 plar ; *•' don't mind me, I am not hurt. Stop him — 
 stop him ! " 
 
 "We'll send the gendarmes after him," said 
 M. de Villemont ; " no fear of his escaping, we 
 have got this to identify him bj," kicking the 
 box of books. 
 
 Even as he" [spoke there was the sharp report of 
 a pistol ; M. de Villemont turned on himself, and 
 fell to the ground. 
 
 "My God! he is shot," exclaimed Arthur 
 Bredy, stooping over his friend. 
 
 It was at this instant that Madame de Villemont 
 and Colonel St. Georges issued on to the road; 
 Louisa had instantly caught sight of her mother's 
 crouching figure. 
 
 " Mamma ! mamma ! what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Go away, Louisa, go away ; take her away, 
 
 VOL. III. 43 
 
50 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 you fools ! " cried Mrs. Templar, half in French, 
 half in English. 
 
 Colonel St. Georges, though he had no con- 
 ception of what had happened, tried to keep 
 Louisa back. 
 
 "Your mother is uninjured, dear lady." 
 
 " Somebody is hurt," said Louisa, with a shiver ; 
 '' I see some one lying there ; some one is hurt, 
 pray, tell me ? " 
 
 There was a dead silence ; she pushed Colonel 
 St. Georges on one side, and walked to her 
 mother's side. Bredy had just wit enough left to 
 cover the dead man's face with a handkerchief. 
 
 Louisa strained her eyes on the motionless 
 figure, then said, — 
 
 " Why do you cover him ? let him have air. 
 Where's the doctor ? Why don't you go for a 
 doctor ? " 
 
 "Run yourself for one, Louisa," said Mrs. 
 Templar, with sudden presence of mind. " I and 
 one of these gentlemen will remain here." 
 
 " I don't want any one with me," said Louisa, 
 and rushed into the wood. 
 
THE CROIX ROUGE. 51 
 
 On her way she met three soldiers ; she stopped 
 and told them that an accident had happened, her 
 husband was wounded, and lying by the Croix 
 Kouge. Would they go and help ? "I am run- 
 ning for a doctor," she added. 
 
 The youngest man of the three said, — 
 
 " If madame would tell him where the doctor 
 lived, he should get there faster than she could." 
 
 She told him, and he set off at a quick run, 
 but though the sturdy young soldier ran as swiftly 
 as he could, Louisa was always even with him in 
 the race. 
 
 43—2 
 
 ,-D-\TV OF \alNO\b 
 
52 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DIEFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 
 
 Dk. H was luckily at home, when Madame 
 
 de Villemont arrived at his door. Louisa's tongue 
 clove to the roof of her mouth, she could not utter 
 a word, so it was well that the young soldier had 
 remained by her side to explain that a gentleman 
 had been shot, close to the Croix Rouge, and that 
 the lady had come to fetch a doctor. 
 
 Dr, H pressed Madame de Villemont to go 
 
 into his house, but Louisa shook her head ; she 
 stood at the door till she had seen him set off, 
 then walked rapidly away to Clairefonds, luckily 
 only a few hundred yards distant from the 
 physician's house. 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 53 
 
 How she busied herself with preparations ! She 
 had the bed warmed, a fire made, the porte- 
 cochere and the hall doors thrown wide open, thai 
 there might be no delay in entering. How long 
 the J .were in coming! Presently there- arose 
 sounds in the street, such as of numbers running 
 to gaze at some unusual sight. Louisa who had 
 been watching from a window, no sooner heard 
 that significant noise than she hastened into the 
 vestibule from whence she could see all who 
 entered the great gates. Her mother appeared 
 first, leaning on Dr. H 's arm. 
 
 " I have got everything ready, mamma," cried 
 Louisa. 
 
 Four men followed the body. 
 
 *' This way," said Louisa, " this way." 
 
 " No, no," interposed Mrs. Templar, " better 
 here," and she opened the door of a spare room on 
 one side of the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Templar took hold of Louisa, saying, — 
 
 " You must come and hear what the doctor has 
 to say." 
 
 '* How quiet he is ! " whispered Louisa, strain- 
 
54 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 ing her eyes on her husband ; what does the 
 doctor say ? is there danger ? " 
 
 '^ Yes, great danger ; come with me, Louisa." 
 
 Louisa made no resistance, she allowed her 
 mother to lead her to her own room. She knew 
 what had happened. 
 
 There was, if you will, no overpowering anguish 
 mixed with the thrilling horror with which Louisa 
 met the knowledge of her husband's death. Never- 
 theless, she did grieve, she did suffer. Lives in 
 common for four years are not suddenly sundered 
 without pain. As she stood two days later by the 
 side of the couch on which Raoul lay so passive, 
 with that strange look of serenity that the face 
 of the dead so often wears just before humanity 
 begins to fade into corruption, she said, — 
 
 " I should not feel his death so much, had he 
 been happier; it seems hard to die and not to 
 have known what happiness is," she was speaking 
 to M. de Blacourt. 
 
 Marc de L an try had sent an express to the 
 marquis, to make sure that the woeful news would 
 be tenderly broken to Raoul's poor mother, and 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 55 
 
 M. de Blacourt had accompanied the dowager 
 Madame de Villemont to Clairefonds. 
 
 The lady's grief was terrible to witness: she 
 tore out handfuls of her grey hair; she raved; the 
 house echoed with her shrieks; she called on 
 God and man for vengeance. She would not see 
 Louisa. 
 
 " She is nothing to me now," she said. " Had 
 she been the mother of a child of my poor boy's, 
 there would have been a tie between us ; as it is, 
 I wish never either to hear of, or to see her again. 
 Ah ! had he not married that Protestant, he might 
 have been alive at this moment." 
 
 It was like a reprieve to Louisa, when the 
 marquis told her, that her mother-in-law declined 
 to see her. Those cries of agony which broke 
 the silence of the night, made Louisa feel that her 
 sorrow and regret would appear revolting indif- 
 ference to the bereaved mother. 
 
 There was, of course, what we should call in 
 England an inquest, at which the depositions of 
 Mrs. Templar, Louisa, and M. Bredy were taken 
 down in writing. Mrs. Templar was, indeed, the 
 
56 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 principal -witness. The questions put to her 
 naturally elicited lier former acquaintance with 
 the person caHing himself M. Jacques, known in 
 the department of the Meuse as a Protestant 
 colporteur. Mrs. Templar gave a candid account, 
 without waiting to have her knowledge forced 
 from her. She told how, and by whom the 
 murderer had been introduced to her; how 
 Professor Gastineau had presented hira to her by 
 the name and title of Vicomte Granson, how he 
 had shown her documents and letters, which 
 seemed to prove that he was the person he gave 
 himself out to be ; and how he had informed her 
 that he was prosecuting his claim.s for the recovery 
 of his paternal estate, which, he said, had been 
 appropriated by a kinsman during the emigration 
 of his — Vicomte Granson's — fiither. She explained 
 that any doubts she might have had as to his 
 beino; the son of that Vicomte Granson who had, 
 she knew, accompanied the Comte d'Artois to 
 Holyrood had vanished, when day after day he 
 related circumstances respecting Scotch families 
 of rank and station, her own among the number. 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 57 
 
 which only one mixing intimately in their society 
 could have known. That, trusting to what seemed 
 excellent credentials, she had given him her con- 
 fidence to so great an extent, that she had actually 
 by his advice sold out of the English funds, five 
 thousand pounds, and had confided to him the 
 whole of that sum to invest for her in the Docks 
 
 Maritimes, and in the Forges of A , which he 
 
 assured her would pay 8 per cent. 
 
 The juge d'instruction asked, — 
 
 "And you ventured on this step without con- 
 sulting other friends, or any notary ? " 
 
 " I consulted no one but M. Granson," replied 
 Mrs. Templar ; " I had full faith in the man." 
 She continued — " He paid me the first half year's 
 dividends, and gave me what I supposed were the 
 coupons of the shares." 
 
 Then Mrs. Templar related how the supposed 
 vicomte had also induced her to take , a young 
 woman into her service, whom afterwards she had 
 had every reason to believe an improper charac- 
 ter, and that it was the overhearing, one evening, 
 a conversation between him and this Laure wliich 
 
58 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 led to a quarrel and the breaking off of all ac- 
 quaintance between her and M. Granson. That 
 the idea, however, of fraud had never presented 
 itself to her mind, until the juge de paix of Ver- 
 sailles had warned her that the police had their 
 eyes on that person calling himself Vicomte Gran- 
 son; that immediately after lier return to Paris 
 she had discovered, on showing the papers he had 
 given her, that they were only promises of shares, 
 and not the actual coupons ; that the receipt for 
 the money he said he had invested in the Forges 
 
 de A was a forgery. The company knew 
 
 nothing of any M. Granson, and had never heard 
 of the name of Templar." Mrs. Templar con- 
 cluded by saying — " That she had never had any 
 news of, or seen the false Vicomte Granson until 
 she had met him at the Croix Rouge, and that she 
 was firmly persuaded that the shot which killed 
 her son-in-law had been intended for her. He 
 had no motive for killing M. de Villemont, but 
 every reason for desii'mg to silence the tongue 
 which could disclose so much of M. Jacques' past 
 life." 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 59 
 
 Mrs. Templar, when requested to do so, pro- 
 duced the papers by which she had been deceived. 
 
 M. de Blacourt and Pastor de Lantry both cor- 
 roborated Mrs. Templar's evidence in many of the 
 main particulars. When Marc was asked how 
 he had failed to recognize Yicomte Granson in 
 M. Jacques, he replied, — 
 
 " That, in the first place, there was scarcely any 
 light in the room where he had seen him, that the 
 colporteur had kept the bedclothes as high as his 
 mouth, and had, besides, drawn his cotton nightcap 
 almost over his eyes ; besides which, the lapse of 
 upwards of twelve years, had quite obliterated his 
 recollection of the soi-distant vicomte, and he was 
 not sure that even now, with his suspicions ex- 
 cited, that he should be able to swear to M. 
 Jacques being Granson." 
 
 " I can swear it," said Mrs. Templar. 
 
 Hereupon the juge d'instruction remarked, — 
 
 " That it was strange how much more tenacious 
 a woman's memory was than that of a man." 
 
 Mrs. Templar said to Marc afterwards, — 
 
 " You understand now how much Louisa and I 
 
60 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 owe to the Gastineaux. I wonder how much 
 more of evil to us is to come from that hated 
 stock." 
 
 The funeral of M. de Villemont took place on 
 the fourth day from his murder. More than five 
 hundred persons followed the body, some from 
 respect and sympathy, others from that idle curi- 
 osity which leads so many to go where others go. 
 As the long procession, swelling in numbers as 
 it moved on, had nearly reached the cemetery, 
 it was met by two mounted gendarmes coming 
 from the opposite direction, one of them having 
 a man handcuffed, fastened by a leather strap 
 to the holster of his saddle. The gendarmes 
 drew on one side, saluting the hearse as it passed ; 
 it was an open hearse ; the prisoner could see 
 the coffin. The chanting of the priests and 
 choristers ceased as they came on the group ; in 
 place of the holy song, there was a murmur of 
 horror, for in an instant it was known that the 
 prisoner was the murderer of M. de Villemont. 
 TJnpitying eyes turned to scan with curiosity the 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 61 
 
 features of M. Jacques or Granson. Poor wretch, 
 you could see by the uneasy way he moved his 
 head from side to side, his staring first at the sky, 
 then at the earth beneath his feet, how he shrunk 
 from the hard gaze of the multitude. 
 
 He had been captured at a village within a 
 league of Bar le Due, and in this wise. In the 
 town there was an old Protestant nurseryman of 
 the name of Chevreau ; that dangerous individual 
 in an argument — the reader of one book — Andre 
 Chevreau loved an argument on any subject, best 
 of all on religion — in his own opinion he always 
 had the best of it with Catholics. There was one 
 man who had beaten him with his own weapons, and 
 that man was Jacques the colporteur, and Chevreau 
 did not feel more friendly to Jacques on that ac- 
 count. When it was known that the hawker had 
 shot M. de Villemont, Chevreau was amono^ the 
 most eager for his apprehension. 
 
 On the morning of the funeral, Chevreau was 
 returning in haste from a commercial expedition, 
 in order to hear Chanoine Maillard's oration at 
 the grave, which was expected to contain violent 
 
62 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 accusations against Protestantism, when he espied 
 some paces in front of him, a soldier. Tlie 
 opportunity for talking was too good to be lost. 
 
 " Hi — hi, mon camarade," halloed Chevreau, in 
 his cracked treble. 
 
 The soldier turned round, and laughed at the 
 shrivelled little old figure hailing him as comrade. 
 
 " You are going to Bar le Due ? let us travel 
 the rest of the way together my friend," went on 
 the gardener. " Good company shortens the 
 road." 
 
 " With all my heart," said the other. 
 
 Chevreau began the conversation by a cross- 
 examination. " Of what part of France was the 
 young man a native? how old was he? how 
 long had he served ? and pray, where ? " At the 
 answer of " Algiers," to the last query, Chevreau 
 suddenly placed himself face to face with his 
 companion, and looked him well over. "You 
 have been so far, and come back witliout a 
 decoration ? " 
 
 " I had no good luck ; it will come another 
 day," replied the other cheerfully. 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 63 
 
 "And so you have been to the east, and you 
 did not find out the cavern they say this beastly 
 east wind comes from ? '^ 
 
 " Where's that, I should like to know ? " said 
 the soldier. 
 
 " I'll tell you what," continued Chevreau ; " if I 
 weren't so old, I'd set off, and never stop till I 
 had gone east enough, and then I would settle the 
 matter by blocking up that sharp fellow's dwell- 
 ing and get a cross of honour as big as two 
 for my pains. Go to the east indeed, and do 
 nothing ! " 
 
 "I'll remember to look out for that same 
 cavern next time I go, old gentleman," replied the 
 soldier, adding, as Chevreau turned into a by- 
 lane, "If that's your road^ we must part com- 
 pany." 
 
 " Not a bit ; I'll take you a short cut through 
 the vines." 
 
 They had gone perhaps fifty yards down one of 
 the precipitous stony paths that furrow the sides 
 of all the hills round the Bar le Due, when 
 Chevreau said in a low voice :. 
 
64 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " Do you see that man skulking along there to 
 the left ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 " That's the rascally colporteur who murdered 
 M. de Villemont. and has made his beautiful lady 
 a widow : a vile hypocrite ; we must seize him." 
 
 The soldier shrugged his shoulders, saying : 
 " "We soldiers leave that kind of work to the gen- 
 darmes — it's their duty, ours is to fight. Good- 
 day ; I won't forget the east wind." And the 
 young fellow turned sharp round, retracing his 
 steps, until he again reached the high-road. 
 
 Chevreau, who knew everv short cut, w^as at 
 the Caserne de Gendarmerie, which stands at the 
 entrance of the Ville Basse, in half an hour 
 from the time he had seen Jacques creeping 
 through the vines. The colporteur was quickly 
 apprehended ; he had been trying to satisfy his 
 hunger with the grapes that had been left or 
 dropped by the vendangeurs. 
 
 Chevreau was in time for the Chanoine's 
 oration, the gist of which was, tliat Protestantism 
 was the root of all evil ; for instance, could any 
 
DIFEICULT TO IDENTIFY. 65 
 
 one deny that the marriage of M. de Yillemont 
 with a Protestant lady had indubitably led to his 
 being foully murdered by a disseminator of the 
 false principles of Luther and Calvin ? 
 
 " I could soon floor that fellow if I had him to 
 talk to, for an hour;" said Chevreau to his 
 neighbours. 
 
 The juge d'instruction lost no time in proceed- 
 ing at once to the first examinations, or proces 
 Yerbal, of the De Villemont murder. Jacques, 
 alias Yicomte Granson, refused point blank to 
 give any account of himself. He asserted that M. 
 de Yillemont's death was an accident, that he had 
 never seen that gentleman in his life. He did not 
 deny that he had fired (probably because the 
 gendarmes had found a large horse pistol on 
 him), and he was besides aware that M. Bredy, if 
 not also Mrs. Templar, had seen him in the act of 
 firing. He protested that he had aimed at a blue 
 jay; after that he lapsed into obstinate silence. 
 In the local papers it was announced after the 
 simple relation of his capture, that " la justice 
 informe." 
 
 VOL. III. 44 
 
66 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 The third day after his capture, the prisoner 
 made a demand to be allowed to see the Protestant 
 minister, M. de Lantry. The request was granted. 
 His first words induced Marc to suppose, either 
 that Jacques was insane, or intended to feign 
 insanity, in the hope of saving his life. 
 
 "You remember what I said to you, sir?" was 
 how he began the conversation. " I have been 
 pursued by the devil for years — he has got me 
 now. I never meant to commit murder, not even 
 to kill that old witch who has brought me to this 
 pass. Satan whispered to me to do so, to stop her 
 tongue ; 1 heard the w^ords as plainly as I hear 
 myself speak now." 
 
 " What you describe is by no means an un- 
 common case," replied Marc, quietly. " The 
 spirit of evil dwells in all our hearts. Every 
 one of us has to keep watch and ward against 
 its suggestions. You will find such a plea go for 
 nothing with your judges as an excuse for a cruel 
 murder." 
 
 " Homicide, not murder," retorted the prisoner. 
 " The old Jewish law, an eye for an eye, a tooth 
 
DIFFICULT TO IDENTIFY. 67 
 
 for a toothy a life for a life, exists no longer in any 
 Christian country ; I cannot be condemned for 
 that which I did not intend to commit, which I 
 had no motive for committing." 
 
 '' True, as regards M. de Yillemont ; but you 
 admitted but now, that the devil whispered to 
 you to kill Mrs. Templar — the bullet hit the 
 TVTong person, but the intention to murder was 
 there, M. Granson, for now I do perfectly remem- 
 ber you." 
 
 A sort of half smile crossed the adventurer's 
 face. With a sudden air of braggadocia, he 
 answered, — 
 
 "I snap my fingers at your juge d' instruction ; a 
 solemn young ass, placed where he is from interest, 
 not merit — I laugh at your little snuffy procureur 
 royal ; they can't touch me. Civis Romanus 
 sum, I am a British subject. I sent for you 
 not for spiritual aid, but to beg you, as an old 
 acquaintance, to forward my demand for the inter- 
 ference of the English ambassador." 
 
 " A very Proteus," said Marc. " However, 
 believe me, whatever may be your native country — 
 
 44—2 
 
68 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 I should not be surprised to hear you call yom'self 
 a Turk in five minutes hence — it does not free 
 you from being amenable to the laws of the 
 country in ■which you have committed a crime. 
 Supposing it to be true that you are an English- 
 man, all that can arise from that fact will be 
 some communication from the British Govern- 
 ment, praying that you may have a speedy and 
 a fair trial." 
 
 The prisoner mused for a while, and then 
 said, — 
 
 " You will never persuade me that I can be 
 condemned for anything but homicide." 
 
 "I am not your judge," said Marc. "I had 
 hoped to find you sorrowing for the misery you 
 have inflicted, sorrowing for the bereaved mother, 
 the youncr widow — more than all, for the youno; 
 man you so suddenly sent out of the world. I 
 came here in the belief that you were repentant, 
 for in my opinion 3'ou are a murderer." 
 
 *' You have not much consideration for my 
 feelincs in usincr that terra. Pray, M. le Pasteur, 
 how do you know what you would have been, had 
 
DirnCULT TO IDENTIFY. 69 
 
 you been in mj place ? if you had liad my tem- 
 perament instead of your own ? The force of 
 circumstances makes us what we are — it's a mere 
 chance whether a man turns out a hero or a 
 rogue — the same qualities go to the making of 
 both ; it's circumstances, and circumstances alone, 
 which decide. I have been a victim all mv life 
 to untoward destinv; we are doomed from our 
 birth to be what we are. I see vou are in haste 
 to leave me, sir; I will not detain you longer. Be 
 so good as to remember that I persist in my 
 declaration, that I had no intention of killing 
 M. de Villemont." 
 
 Marc, however, disiirusted with the criminal's 
 conversation and manner, sought an interview 
 with the procureur royal, to inform him of 
 what Granson, alias Jacques, had declared. *•'! 
 own I believe his assertion," said Marc. The 
 accused, himself, rendered this effort in his 
 behalf of no avail. When the turnkey went 
 the next morning to look after his prisoner^ 
 he found that he had hano;ed himself; he had 
 evidently done the deed deliberately. The iron 
 
70 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 grating of the window to which he had fastened 
 the end of his cravat, was scarcely high enough to 
 keep the feet of so tall a man off the ground, with- 
 out his own determination. He had written in 
 pencil on a fly-leaf of the Bible, left in his 
 possession, *' I save my judges the trouble 
 of condemning me : my real name is James 
 
 Mc " the last svllable was illeofible. " I was 
 
 once an officer in the British army. Requiescam 
 in 'paceP 
 
 It would be worse than useless to waste many 
 lines on this miscreant. The revelation of his 
 real country and station accounted for his know- 
 ledge of Mrs. Templar's relations. Not long after 
 the story of his crime and death had gone the 
 rounds of the pubhc journals, M. de Blacourt 
 showed Louisa a paragraph in the Debats, eluci- 
 dating how the pretended Granson had managed 
 to obtain so many of the papers and letters of the 
 real Vicomte Granson. This latter gentleman, 
 an emigre, as his father had been before him, had 
 served with the British army in Spain, and was 
 killed at Yittoria. After his death, his papers 
 
DIFEICULT TO IDENTIFY. 71 
 
 and valuables were found to be missing, and it 
 was supposed that they had been abstracted by a 
 man who had been cashiered just at that period, 
 and was known to have been in M. Granson's 
 confidence. 
 
72 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 
 
 Two years have gone by since Madame de Ville- 
 mont became a widow. Towards the close of that 
 period, Fioretta von Ehrtmann came on a visit to 
 her sister, Madame de Lantry. Fioretta scarcely 
 looked a day older than she had done at Louisa's 
 wedding. She was just the person to retain her 
 Touthfal looks and spirits. She had no heart, and 
 excellent health ; no doubt she will be one of the 
 fortunate ones of this world. 
 
 The sisters were in the garden, seated in a 
 rustic bower of IMarc's own contrivino;. In sum- 
 mer, Ismay passed nearly the whole day there, 
 busy with her needle, yet not so busy, but that 
 she could keep a watchful eye on the throe 
 children rolling and tumbling on the grassplot. 
 
YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 73 
 
 The little thatched pavilion was also Ismay's 
 salle cT audience duriiii]r the hot months. 
 
 " This is the sixth time we have been in- 
 terrupted this morning," exclaimed Fioretta. 
 " Have you never a quiet hour, Ismay ? Must 
 you always be at the beck and bidding of all your 
 
 » 
 
 husband's cono;reo;ation ? 
 
 " Of course," returned Ismay ; " Marc cannot do 
 everything." As she spoke, she threw down her 
 work, for Edmee, her eldest girl, had fallen on 
 a stone and cut her knee, and had to be comforted 
 on mamma's lap. 
 
 "Tiresome child," said Fioretta, in an aside; 
 then aloud, " Give her a sugar -plum. I have 
 something particular to say. Edniee, there's a 
 pet, don't cry, and aunt Fior will buy you 
 a dolL" 
 
 When the small Edmee was soothed into a 
 subdued whimper, Fioretta said, — 
 
 " Do you know that Louisa and Gustave Gas- 
 tineau will both be at the Prefecture soiree this 
 evenino;. I would not miss the scene of their 
 meeting for anything in the world." 
 
74 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " What do you expect to see ? " asked Israay. 
 " The Proviseur is no longer the raw boy who 
 did not know how to behave properly in society ; 
 he is a thorough man of the world, and depend 
 on it, supposing he should feel any emotion, he is 
 perfectly capable of hiding it." 
 
 " Of course, they will both do their best to 
 appear indifferent, and they may manage to cheat 
 strangers, but not me. I have an idea he got 
 
 himself appointed proviseur here on purpose to be 
 near his old flame." 
 
 " I hope not," said Ismay ; " I don't believe he 
 would have any better chance of pleasing Madame 
 de Villemont, than he had of pleasing Louisa 
 Templar." 
 
 " He is very much improved in appearance," 
 observed Fioretta. 
 
 " He is grown uglier in my opinion," returned 
 Ismay ; " the expression of his face is very dis- 
 agreeable." 
 
 " I don't dislike it ; he has a thunder-cloud look 
 which always creates a sensation." 
 
 " Thunder-clouds are not pleasant companions," 
 
YOUTH AIS^D CRABBED AGE. 75 
 
 said Ismay ; after a little pause, she added, 
 " M. Gastineau's life has not been of a kind to 
 make him an eligible acquaintance for women ; he 
 is only fitted to be the hero of a melodrama." 
 
 " How severe you ultra-pious people can be," 
 exclaimed Fioretta ; '^ you can't exact the same 
 rigidity of conduct from a man of letters, as from 
 a pastor, my dear Ismay. You have no idea how 
 his books made him run after in Paris, and what 
 grandes passions he has inspired." 
 
 " I don't wish to know anything about him, and 
 if his novels are celebrated, so much the worse 
 for France ; they deserve to be burned." 
 
 " Ah ! but he says, it w^as that unfortunate first 
 deception that ruined him, and made him take to 
 naughty ways." 
 
 ^' I will not talk of him, Fioretta ; I amx sorry 
 you ever read a line of his." 
 
 *^ Why do you allow him to visit here ? " asked 
 Fioretta. . 
 
 ^' He comes to see Marc. I have nothing to 
 do with him, and I hope you will adopt the same 
 reserve." 
 
70 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Perhaps, Fioretta had guessed truly, when she 
 conjectured tliat choice, not chance, had brought 
 Gustave Gastineau to Bar le Due. Gustave had 
 achieved all that he had been ambitious of: he 
 was one of the celebrities of the day, and he was 
 now in a post, that of proviseur or rector of the 
 Lycee of Bar le Due, which placed him on a 
 footing of equality with the prefet and other 
 notables of the department. He might now, 
 certainly, address Madame de Villemont, without 
 being accused of much presumption. If to do so, 
 had been his motive in obtaining this appointment 
 in the town she inhabited, if his love had reallv 
 survived six years of dissipated life ; he had 
 shown great self-mastery, for he had never yet 
 sought to meet her. Once he had inquired of 
 M. de Lantry, whetlier the story he had heard 
 of M. de Yillemont's death were true, and i\Iarc 
 had restricted himself to giving the precise details, 
 including the discovery made as to the soi-disant 
 Vicomte Granson, but Louisa's name had been 
 mentioned by neither. 
 
 Marc, being a man, and judging as a man, had 
 
YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 77 
 
 pooh-pooliecl the conjectures of the two women, 
 for tliongli Ismay had not said so to her sister, she 
 shared in Fioretta's belief of the motive which had 
 brought Gustave Gastineau to Bar le Due. Marc 
 said, it was one of those common coincidences 
 in real life, which are somehow supposed only to 
 occur in fiction. 
 
 Louisa had not heard of Gustave beino: in the 
 town, without agitation. She had a terror of 
 meeting him herself, and she was further afraid 
 of the effect his presence might have on her 
 mother and M. de Blacourt. She felt as one 
 who just emerged from a period of anxiety and 
 trouble, and longing for nothing so much as 
 repose, feels at the prospect of new complications 
 and vexations. M. de Blacourt was at tliis 
 moment staying at Clairefonds ; he had been 
 compelled to be much there after M. de Yille- 
 mont's death. 
 
 Raoul had left a will, dated a couple of years 
 back, by which, supposing he left no child, he 
 constituted his mother, should she survive him, 
 his heir, with remainder to half a dozen cousins 
 
78 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 whom he scarcely knew by sight. Among other 
 bequests was one of twenty thousand francs to 
 Marguerite St. Georges. M. de Blacourt, as- 
 tonished at the terms of the will, which could 
 be regarded in no other sense than a proof of 
 resentment towards Louisa, inquired of Marc 
 whether there had been much dissension between 
 husband and wife. 
 
 ^^No open disagreement," was Marc's reply; 
 " but at the same time no one could have supposed 
 they had any cordial affection for one another. 
 Madame de Villemont had, however, alwaj's 
 treated her husband with respect, and he could 
 answer for it that she had wished to do her 
 duty. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the marquis, *^ none are so vin- 
 dictive as those whose passions have not been 
 worn or rubbed down by the wear and tear of the 
 world. This will is a revenge for some secret 
 wound inflicted on Raoul's vanity." 
 
 Very quickly after she became a widow had 
 Louisa received letters from men of business as 
 to the succession of her husband's property — letters 
 
YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 79 
 
 that were Greek to her. She had taken them to 
 M. de Blacourt for explanation. 
 
 " But Clairefonds — they cannot turn me out of 
 Clairefonds, can they ? " 
 
 '' I am not sure ; they mean to try, you see." 
 
 " Have I nothinn; then ? " asked Louisa. 
 
 " You have the dowry secured to you at your 
 
 marriage." 
 
 "It will be dreadful to be turned adrift into 
 the world," said Louisa ; " I had so hoped this 
 was always to be my home. And poor mamma ! 
 she is not able for a rouojh life now. Would 
 my money be suflScient to buy Clairefonds ? " 
 
 ^^ No, certainly not," said M. de Blacourt. 
 
 Louisa looked very sad as she heard this decided 
 negative: she answered, — 
 
 '•' ll it is right that I should go, I must be 
 resigned. Will you tell me what to do with 
 these letters ? " 
 
 The marquis could not leave this helpless 
 young creature, so thoroughly incapable of 
 defending her own interests, unaided. Up to 
 that day there had been no resumption of their 
 
80 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 former habits of intercourse, broken at the time 
 of Louisa's confession of her luckless promise to 
 Gustave Gastineau. Though her heart impelled 
 her towards M. de Blacourt, though she longed to 
 break through the reserve subsisting between 
 them, Louisa Avas withheld by a doubt whether 
 the marquis had not really lost all affection for 
 her ; hitherto she had had only a feeling of morti- 
 fication at his having secured her a dowry ; she 
 would have been glad to thank him now, to tell 
 him that she principally desired to retain Claire- 
 fonds because it had been his gift. She would 
 have willingly put the question to him why, not 
 liking his cousin, he had done so much to facili- 
 tate her marriage with Raoul ? She wanted to 
 pour out her inmost feelings, to beg him to forgive 
 her petulance that day when she had decided her 
 fate ; to say, you were too good, too generous to 
 me, I was imn;ratcful, but it was in io;norance — 
 forgive me, and let me be to you the Louisa of 
 other days ! There was, nevertheless, some barrier 
 to her saying this — a barrier she could not over- 
 leap. Was it in her, or was it in him ? She 
 
YOUTH AND CKABBED AGE. 81 
 
 tliouglit it was in him ; one word said as of yore, 
 and slie would have spoken out ; he seemed to 
 rein her back from all effusion. As she sat before 
 him with such scared eyes, such an anxious, help- 
 less look on her lovely young face, she reminded 
 him powerfully of the little Louisa of the Rue de 
 Varennes, who had always run to him for help, in 
 her child's troubles. In a voice of repressed 
 emotion, he said, — 
 
 " Will you let me manage all these affairs for 
 you ? being in some sort your relation, no one 
 can miscontrue my interference." 
 
 Louisa, still the same Louisa of old, seized 
 his hand, and kissed it in spite of his resistance. 
 
 "Oh! will you? Whatever you think right 
 I will do." 
 
 " You mav trust me," he said. 
 
 " Trust you ! " she said, in such a grand tone 
 of reproof that he should imagine she could doubt 
 1dm ; then almost in a whisper, " You forgive 
 me?" 
 
 "'Hush! it's all forgotten, as if it had never 
 been." 
 
 VOL. III. 45 
 
82 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 M. de Blac ourt found In the dowager Madame 
 de yillemon t a spirit of hostility difficult to deal 
 with. She took her stand on the circumstance 
 that the sum reco2;nized in the contract of mar- 
 riage as Louisa's dowry had never been paid. 
 M. de Blacourt declared that his gift of 
 Clairefonds depended on the condition of a 
 hundred thousand francs being assured to 
 Louisa. 
 
 The dowager shifted her ground ; she would pay 
 that sum, but her daughter-in-law must quit 
 Clairefonds. It was only by the sacrifice of a 
 considerable sum of money that M. de Blacourt 
 could reinstate Louisa as mistress of Clairefonds. 
 When the suit was stopped, all he told her was, 
 that she was now in safe possession of Claire- 
 fonds. 
 
 The day that M. de Blacourt announced his 
 intention of returning to Paris — he had been, 
 wdth only short intervals of absence, an inmate 
 of Clairefonds for months — Louisa asked, — 
 
 " And when are you coming back ? " 
 
 " I shall wait for an invitation." 
 
YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 83 
 
 " How I wish you were not going away 
 at all; I shall feel so lonely when you are 
 gone." 
 
 " You have the De Lantrys and the St. Georges, 
 all your staunch friends," he replied. 
 
 " That is true, but none like you." 
 
 " Well, I am certainly an older friend than any 
 of them. You sat on my knee nearly a score of 
 years ago ; still, I am not sure that it would do for 
 me always to be here ; however paternal I look, I 
 am not your father." 
 
 "I am sure I love you as dearly as if you 
 were," exclaimed Louisa. 
 
 He did not reply directly ; at last he rose 
 briskly from his chair, and said, — 
 
 " Well, well, my dear, I will see you again 
 soon ; in any difficulty write to me." 
 
 As he was passing one of the great mirrors in 
 the salon, he stopped and took a look of him- 
 self. 
 
 " What a greybeard I am ! Ah ! one grows 
 old ! " 
 
 "Not you, indeed," said Louisa; "it's the light. 
 
 45—2 
 
84 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 I look ten years older than I am in that glass." 
 And she went and stood by him. 
 
 " We make a nice contrast/' he said, and 
 smothered a sigh. 
 
 " We look very well together," she said, affec- 
 tionately. 
 
 "You grow every day more like what you 
 were as the child Louisa." 
 
 " It's the calm of my life," she replied ; ^' pro- 
 mise not to think the worse of me for what I am 
 going to say," she added, almost in a whisper. 
 " Sometimes I feel so happy; I can't help it." 
 
 " God grant you may have many years of 
 happiness, my dear ! " and he laid his hand as in 
 benediction on her head. 
 
 She thought she saw tears in his eyes. 
 
 Many a victory won over self, for which there 
 is no victor's crown. "' Les plus vaihans sont parfois 
 les plus infortunes," says Montaigne. All honour to 
 those brave ones who dispute bravely, and inch 
 by inch, the invasion of any meanness or egotism 
 into their souls ! 
 
 INI. de Blacourt stayed away all one winter and 
 
YOUTH AND CRABBED AGE. 85 
 
 spring from Clairefonds, but keeping up an 
 animated correspondence with Louisa ; he had at 
 last again yielded to her entreaties to come and 
 spend the summer with her. The only change 
 that struck him on arriving was in Mrs. Templar ; 
 he wondered whether Louisa was as blind to it as 
 she appeared ; all the old lady's bitterness and 
 sternness were gone, she showed a childish obe- 
 dience to her dauo;hter, manifestino; for her a sort 
 of ecstatic admiration. If Louisa were long silent, 
 Mrs. Templar would say, time after time, — 
 
 '^ My dear child, keep up your spirits ; who 
 knows what may happen yet ? " 
 
 Once M. de Blacourt tried to sound Louisa on 
 the subject, saying, — 
 
 " You are not uneasy about your mother, are 
 
 you ? " 
 
 " O dear, no. Mamma is very well in mind 
 and body ; she has nothing to vex her now, and 
 that makes the difference you observe in her 
 spirits. I assure you, mamma, is very well and 
 happy." 
 
 M, de Blacourt believed that Louisa was doing 
 
86 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 what so many do — she was endeavouring to ignore 
 that which she was frightened to believe. 
 
 The reader has now a knowledge of Louisa's 
 situation up to that evening in which she knows 
 she is going to meet Gustave Gastineau — the 
 successful man. 
 
( 87 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 OLD FEIENDS MEET AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 Madame de Yillemont entered the great salon 
 of the Prefecture leanmg on M. de Blacourt's 
 arm. A slight flutter of spirits had brought 
 back to her cheeks the delicate rose tint which 
 had belonged to her girlhood. She was probably 
 more touch ingly beautiful at four-and-twenty than 
 she had been at eighteen ; there was more of softness 
 and feeling in her face now, than then ; but the 
 heightened colour made her on this evening look 
 like the girl Gustave had known and loved. 
 
 " She has more the appearance of a bride 
 than a widow," observed one of a group of men 
 gathered near the door through which she had 
 passed. 
 
(( 
 
 a 
 
 88 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa was dressed in one of those sliining pale 
 grey silks that have liigh wliite h'ghts. 
 
 " What spkuidid eyes ! Where did an Engllsli- 
 woman find those black eves ? " said another. 
 " How those long lashes sweep her cheek I " 
 Gare ! Severin de Pressy hears you." 
 I'll lay you any wager you please that she 
 marries that male duenna of hers before the 
 year's out," observed some one else. 
 
 A little circle of her intimates formed round 
 Louisa. Colonel St. Georges placed himself (in 
 spirit) at her feet; Marguerite was seated by her 
 side; it was Marguerite's first soiree. Fioretta 
 was there, tr3'ing to entice Severin into a flirtation ; 
 Madame Bredy with good stupid Arthur joined 
 the party ; JNL de Blacourt stood behind jMadame 
 de Villemont's chair. Louisa strove to take her 
 part in the conversation, to appear unembarrassed, 
 but she had a sensation as if some power were 
 forciuii her to look in a certain direction. She 
 resisted, conscious that she was resisting, for the 
 space of, perhaps, ten minutes : at last, she was 
 so overpowered by this unknown influence, that 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 89 
 
 she could not understand what was belno- said 
 to her; she smiled and felt as if the smile 
 had become fixed on her face. She yielded and 
 looked. 
 
 Gustave was standing by himself in the corner 
 of the room nearly facing her, his eyes were 
 fastened on her. She moved uneasily in her 
 chair^ opened and shut her fan, turned to speak 
 to M. do Blacourt, all the time wincino; under 
 the dominion of that fixed gaze. Again her eyes 
 turned involuntarily to the proviseur. How 
 altered he was : he had gained, as Ismay had 
 remarked, the air of a man of fashion; he was 
 no lonofer thin, he was broad of shoulder, of 
 an upright carriage, holding his head high. 
 The thick rouMi hair which she used to 
 laugh at and to scold him about, had acquired 
 a gloss like that of the raven's wing and waved 
 softly about his temples. He had had no 
 beard six years ago, now he had one both black 
 and curly. In spite of all these advantages the 
 proviseur was not a handsome man, and certainly 
 not pleasant-looking as he stood gazing at Louisa 
 
90 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 and forcing her to return his gaze. Presently 
 Fioretta and Marguerite went away to dance. 
 M. de Blacourt had acceded to the prefet's 
 request that he would make one at a whist- 
 table provided for the President of the General 
 Council, then on his rounds. Madame Bredj, 
 too fat to figure in a quadrille, and Colonel St. 
 Georges too old, alone remained wath Louisa. 
 
 The proviseur came straight to her, making 
 her a most unexceptional bow and begging to 
 recall himself to her memory. Louisa, though 
 she felt as if she were dreaming, and though 
 she had a sensation as if she were fallincr down 
 a precipice, played her part nearly as well as he 
 did. In right of being a woman, she ought to 
 have showed herself the superior in self-possession. 
 But she now understood the pain she had once 
 given him ; she was repentant and a little alarmed 
 also, whereas he was nerved by an undying 
 resentment. lie took a chair by her side and 
 began by inquiring, " If she liked Bar le Due ? " 
 
 " Very much," she answered. 
 He arched his heavy eyebrows and said. 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 91 
 
 ^^ You astonish me. What attraction can this 
 pretty gossiping country town have for you ? " 
 
 " It gives me a pleasant home and good friends/' 
 she rephed. 
 
 .,■; *•' Ah ! " he ejaculated, with a sort of musing, 
 absent air as if he scarcely understood what she 
 had said. 
 
 Louisa, seeing him close, was struck by the 
 deep lines of his face. Had she not known his 
 age, she would have guessed him to be at least 
 ten years older than he was. At one moment 
 she thought he was falling asleep; she would 
 have wished to change her seat, but she actually 
 had not the courage. 
 
 Presently he roused himself, turned his eyes 
 full on her, and asked, — 
 
 " So you believe in friends, believe in disin- 
 terested affection ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do," she answered. 
 
 " Then I must suppose you are capable of what 
 you have faith in ? We only believe in qualities 
 which we ourselves possess." 
 
 There was something inexpressibly painful to 
 
92 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa in the way the proviseur looked her over. 
 She drew her lace shawl close about her. 
 
 "Are you cold?" Was it only her fancy 
 that there was mockery in his tone. Twenty 
 times had she been on the point of inquiring after 
 liis mother and Antoinette, and twenty times had 
 she repressed the inquiry. She[confessed to herself 
 that it was safer to keep to generalities ; he might, 
 and probably would, make her feel that she had 
 no right to resume any intimacy. She herself 
 was so busied with the past, that she made sure 
 he must be equally so. Curiously enough, as he 
 sat by her, speaking to her, she was fast losing 
 the feeling of his identity with the Gustave 
 Gastineau she had known. A tray with 
 refreshments was brouo;ht to Madame Yille- 
 mont. " Permit me," said the proviseur, and 
 he presented her an ice with a nonchalant yet 
 well-bred air. One of his hands was unirloved, 
 and she remarked how smooth and white it was ; 
 the caterpillar had become a fine butterfly. 
 
 Louisa was thankful when Fioretta and Mar- 
 guerite returned to her. Gustave relinquished 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 93 
 
 Ills chair to Fioretta. She welcomed him gaily 
 and plunged at once into reminiscences, winding 
 up with this giddy speech, — 
 
 "You and I, M. Gastineau, are the only 
 unmarried ones of our old set." 
 
 " Yours the fault," he answered with a laucrh. 
 
 Fioretta evidently took this answer as a compli- 
 ment. ^^ My romance is to come," she observed ; 
 " the others have finished theirs." 
 
 " Remember, however," he said, " that a rose 
 has but a day." 
 
 The band was playing a waltz ; Gustave 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " That music is irresistible, is it not ? " His 
 eyes where directed to Madame de Yillemont as 
 he said this. " Nothinsj more charmincr in life 
 than Strauss, and a sylph for a partner. Do 
 you dance ? " Louisa was about to decline, 
 when he bent forward and in a half whisper 
 added, 
 
 " Will you introduce me to your protegee with 
 the seraphic expression ? " 
 
 Madame de Yillemont said, — 
 
94 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 "Marguerite, Monsieur Gastineau begs the 
 honour of dancing this waltz with you." 
 
 Louisa calHng him Monsieur Gastineau struck 
 the proviseur as being as unnatural as his leading 
 off a young girl to waltz, did Louisa. When he 
 had Marguerite's arm within his, he turned his head 
 to Madame de Villemont, and there was a wicked 
 smile on his face. 
 
 " He has not forgiven me, he never will," 
 thought Louisa, and something like regret fell 
 on her. 
 
 " So you and the proviseur have made it up ? " 
 said Fioretta. "I am so vexed to have missed 
 seeing your first meeting. How was it ? did you 
 shake hands, did you ask his pardon ? " 
 
 '- M. Gastineau is too well bred to refer to 
 anything that could make me uncomfortable," 
 said Louisa. "My dear Fioretta, if you have 
 any kind feeling for me, do not rake up subjects 
 better forgotten. M. Gastineau and I meet as 
 new acquaintances — do believe it, otherwise you 
 will always be making some allusion that will 
 wound one or the other." 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 95 
 
 e( 
 
 How tragically you take the matter," said 
 Fioretta. " You had much better have been 
 frank at the first, allowed that you had been 
 two silly children and made it up. Now, you 
 will always be in an alarm." 
 
 " I dare say you are right, but I could not do 
 what seems so easy to you; promise me, to be 
 on your guard, Fioretta." 
 
 " I'll do my very best, and if ever you feel 
 awkward with your old love when I am by, I 
 promise to flirt furiously with him for your 
 advantage." 
 
 Madame de Villemont was not aware that two 
 persons had been watching her with almost an equal 
 interest during her conversation with the pro- 
 viseur. M. de Blacourt had early freed himself 
 from the whist-table and had been a spectator of 
 the meeting. Acquainted as he was with the 
 previous history of Louisa and Gustave, he 
 understood pretty well every change of her 
 countenance. 
 
 Severin de Pressy was the other watcher. He 
 had no other interpreter of what was going on. 
 
96 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 but tliat singular power of divination bestowed by 
 love. It was enough ; he comprehended that the 
 proviseur had some influence over Madame de 
 Villemont. which he was usino; unmanfuUv. 
 
 He saw the malignant smile thrown back 
 on Louisa. It seemed to Severin like the fatal 
 glance from an evil eye. As soon as Fioretta had 
 joined the waltzers, he went to Madame de 
 Yillemont. He did not ask her to dance ; he was 
 certain she vras in no mood to do so, but he exerted 
 himself to amuse her, returning to the subjects 
 which in those happy days when he was a 
 constant visitor at Clairefonds, had had so much 
 interest for her. Louisa listened and answered 
 coldly. The very gentleness and kindness with 
 which Severin spoke to her, worried her ; she 
 wished he would leave her : he was in her wav : 
 she did not want the chair bv her side to be 
 occupied by him. 
 
 IMarguerite returned to her chapcrone greatly 
 excited by the knowledge that she had danced 
 with an author. " And he spoke to me," said 
 the novice, " as if he had been any other man." 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 97 
 
 The proviseur was at that moment, as Louisa 
 perceived, surrounded bj a bevy of ladies — the 
 prefette among them — and all eager for his 
 attention. M. de Blacourt thought she had had 
 enouo;h of it, and came forward to tell Louisa the 
 carriage was waiting. He offered his arm, and 
 Severin walked on her other side; Colonel St. 
 Georges took care of Marguerite. As they were 
 leaving the room, the proviseur followed them. 
 He it was who found Madame de Yillemont's cloak 
 and wrapped her in it; he it was who led her 
 to the carriage. 
 
 " Is Clairefonds forbidden ground ? " he asked, 
 in a very low voice. 
 
 Louisa rallied her composure, and replied, — 
 " I shall be very glad to see you there." 
 He put her into the carriage with a care for 
 which M. de Blacourt could have knocked him 
 down, and Severin as willingly have shot him ; 
 instead of which, the three gentlemen exchanged 
 bows. 
 
 For five minutes after leaving the prefecture, 
 Louisa did not speak. When she recovered her 
 OL. III. 46 
 
08 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 presence of mind, M. de Blacourt was questioning 
 Marguerite as to her sensations at this, her first 
 dance. He was always successful in winning 
 the confidence of young girls ; there was united 
 in his manner, when he chose, a gentleness 
 and a sportiveness which made them forget his 
 age. 
 
 Marguerite avowed " that it had been just 
 what she fancied fairyland must be ; she had 
 never imagined there were so many beautiful 
 ladies in Bar le Due, or that dancino; could be so 
 delightful." 
 
 When Maro;uerite had been left at her uncle's 
 house, Louisa took the opportunity afforded by 
 their being alone, to say to the marquis, — 
 
 " The proviseur asked permission to call at 
 Clairefonds, and I gave it. Was I wrong or 
 ridit ? " 
 
 " You had no alternative, my dear," replied 
 M. de Blacourt : every day his manner grew more 
 paternal. 
 
 " I hope mamma will not be displeased," went 
 on Louisa ; " I should be very vexed if she were to 
 
OLD FEIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 99 
 
 be rude to him ; it is so different now from when 
 we were both young." 
 
 " The proviseur must have been aware that 
 your mother was living with you, when he made 
 his request ; he cannot have forgotten Mrs. Tem- 
 plar's peculiarities of temper and opinions ; there- 
 fore, he means to put up with them." 
 
 " He has got on very fast, has he not ? " said 
 Louisa; " he is very young to be proviseur." 
 
 *^ He is a clever, energetic man, and ambitious ; 
 besides, he has influential friends." 
 
 " You know something about him, then," said 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Yes, his books have brought him before the 
 public. I have never read a line of his novels 
 myself, but I have been told that in spite of a 
 deplorable laxity of tone, they show great talent. 
 He is the spoiled child of a certain world of which 
 you know nothing." 
 
 The carriage stopped. What the marquis had 
 said was meant to warn Louisa, without exciting 
 her suspicions that he was opposed to her reuew- 
 ing her acquaintance with Gastineau. 
 
 46—2 
 
ICO ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 The warning was unperceived ; what had fallen 
 from him only served to whet her curiosity. Louisa 
 thought a good deal about the proviseur before she 
 went to sleep; — thought of him not in any con- 
 secutive manner, but very chaotically. The result 
 had justified his assertion, that he had something 
 more than common in his brains; he had been 
 riiiht in havinn; faith in himself; he must have 
 had great gifts to have enabled him in such few 
 years to conquer a name and position for himself; 
 and so then the lover she had disdained had been 
 eagerly sought after by many. She blushed as 
 she recalled one of M. de Blacourt's observations 
 as to Gustave's popularity. She wondered that 
 lie had asked leave to visit her — that did not seem 
 as if he were unforgiving. How would it be? 
 Louisa had not answered that question when she 
 slipped off into sleep. 
 
 M. de Blacourt did not breakfast with Madame 
 de Villemont and her mother ; he had a small 
 suite of rooms to himself on the second floor. Of 
 all domestic arranirements abhorrent to the mar- 
 quis, that of three or four people always together 
 
OLD miENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 101 
 
 in one room was the most so. He said that 
 *^ neither reading, nor writing, nor even good 
 humour, could be hoped for under such circum- 
 stances. To make social intercourse agreeable, 
 we must earn it by a certain abstinence." 
 
 Louisa therefore being alone with Mrs. Templar 
 at breakfast, could tell her in English, without 
 danger of being understood bj the servant wait- 
 ing, that she had met Gustave Gastineau the 
 evening before at the prefecture. 
 
 " How did he come there ? — is he the butler ? " 
 
 Louisa was startled by hearing again the old 
 sarcastic tone which her mother had appeared to 
 have entirely lost after the tragical deaths of 
 M. de Yillemont and the colporteur. 
 
 " He is proviseur of the Lycee, mamma." 
 
 '•And what's that?" 
 
 " The same as principal of a college in England, 
 I believe." 
 
 " A schoolmaster, you mean." 
 
 " No, dear mamma ; it gives the person who 
 holds it an excellent position, I assure you. 
 M. Gastineau is also celebrated as an author." 
 
102 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " An author ! " repeated Mrs. Templar, with 
 supreme contempt. " He had better have stuck 
 to his cousin's shop." 
 
 Louisa began to despair of inducing her mother 
 to be civil to the proviseur. 
 
 '' Now-a-days, mamma, authors rank very high ; 
 they are the honoured guests of princes." 
 
 "Ah! well, my dear, I know that customs 
 have changed since I was young : an author 
 would never have been invited to mv father's 
 table. There's a story about Samuel Johnson 
 and a screen — but my memory fails me sadly, 
 Louisa." 
 
 The effect produced by the familiar and hated 
 name was already evaporating. 
 
 " M. Gastineau asked leave to call here, mamma, 
 and I said that he might come. I hope his doing 
 so will not vex you." 
 
 " Nothini: vexes me now, my dear." Mrs. 
 Templar began to whimper like a child. " I 
 don't wish to interfere with any one's pleasure, or 
 to be a burden on any one." 
 
 "My dear mother, what makes you say such 
 
OLD FRIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 103 
 
 unkind things, so without any foundation," said 
 Louisa, kneeling down before Mrs. Templar, and 
 caressing her. 
 
 "I feel in the way, my dear. Old people 
 should keep out of sight — they've had their 
 day : make the most of your youth, my dear. 
 I am sure if it is any pleasure to you to 
 see this proviseur, I'll do my best not to offend 
 him." 
 
 " My visitors must do their best to please you, 
 mamma ; if they do not, they must not come here. 
 Now, then, will you come into the garden and 
 gather the flowers? no one can make a bouquet 
 like ^ou." 
 
 It was some time before Madame de Yillemont 
 succeeded in restoring Mrs. Templar's serenity. 
 When at last she had been coaxed into the garden, 
 she turned to Louisa with a jaunty air, and said : 
 '^ This sunny morn, dear Roger, gars my bluid 
 run cheery." 
 
 Tears welled up to Louisa's eyes, as she heard 
 the tremulous voice, and looked at the bent figure 
 and the haggard face. The image of ]Mrs. 
 
104 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Templar as she was in the Rue de Varennes 
 and at Yersailles, rose before Louisa so vividly 
 that she seemed to see her mother of that time, 
 standing by the side of the ruin of to-day. 
 
 " Come, no sad faces," suddenly exclaimed Mrs. 
 Templar; '' you have had real trouble enough, 
 child ; don't begin to be fanciful, you are at 
 3^our very best now ; who knows what may be in 
 store for you ? — it doesn't become you to look 
 grave, Louisa — smile, my dear. What a merry 
 child vou were, never still an instant, and so 
 sharp, there was nothing you did not understand. 
 Lady Theodosia called you Smiler. Really I don't 
 see any reason why you should look as grave as 
 a judge, or go about hanging your head like a 
 broken lily ; walk, and dance, and talk, and you 
 will soon o-et your beautiful colour back aiiain. 
 I am sure I've no idea why the young women of 
 the present day should be so different from those 
 of my time, now not one of them has the strength 
 of a fly ; I believe it's that constant stooping over 
 books. j\Iv father said when a woman knew how 
 to make a shirt and a pudding, and play * Scots 
 
OLD FKIENDS AS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 105 
 
 wlia liae wi' Wallace bled/' she knew as mucli as 
 was good for her. I have no opinion of this new- 
 fangled way of educating girls, as if they were to 
 go on the stage. I let myself be persuaded by 
 that German busybody to take you to Paris, and 
 what has it done for you ? — you're a widow, and as 
 for her mrls, one is a married slave, and the other 
 an old maid. If I were to have fifty daughters, 
 they should be brought up on milk and porridge, 
 and only taught to do white seam. Remember 
 what I am saj'ing to you, Louisa, when you have 
 girls of your own ; your old mother is as wise as 
 her neighbours." And so maundered on Mrs. 
 Templar, quite forgetful of Louisa having spoken 
 to her of Gustave Gastineau. 
 
 Many an hour did Louisa spend hearkening to 
 unmeaning chatter like this; she never tried to 
 stop her mother by any overt interruption, no, 
 not even by a moment's inattention. Mrs. Templar 
 rarely spoke when there were visitors ; if she did, 
 her daughter knew how to obtain an appearance, 
 at least, of respect for her mother's disjointed, talk. 
 No one, not even M. de Blacourt, was sure that 
 
106 0^'CE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa was aware that her mother's mind was 
 weakened. She showed now the same passionate 
 affection for her mother which had been so 
 remarkable in her as a child. 
 
/ 
 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SIGNS. 
 
 The proviseur did not come, as Madame de Ville- 
 mont had expected, the day after the soiree at the 
 prefecture. He allowed three days to elapse ere 
 he made his appearance at Clairefonds. During 
 those three days, Louisa went over in her mind 
 every event of her life connected with Gustavo 
 Gastineau, and the more she thought on the sub- 
 ject the more surprised she was that he should 
 seek to renew any intimacy with her. His having 
 sent her his books, those cruel denunciations of 
 herself, was a circumstance of itself sufficient 
 to bar any intercourse between them. She de- 
 cided that it would be wiser that they should 
 remain as strangers to each other, and when the 
 
lOS ONCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 third dav came and went without a visit from him, 
 she supposed that he, on further consideration, had 
 come to the same conclusion. 
 
 DuriuiT those three dars, she read over the two 
 novels he had sent her. This time of readinor she 
 dwelt longer on the description of his early love 
 for the heroine. The episode was charming — 
 redolent of the spring season of a human heart — 
 it £:ave vou the feelino- you mav have experienced 
 when Iviuii dav-dreaniins; in some boskv clen, on 
 the grassy bank of some clear, prattling stream, 
 — so clear that you can see every pebble in its 
 depth. 
 
 Tears dropped from Louisa's eyes over this 
 picture of Gustave's first love. She did not say 
 it aloud, but she said it in her heart, '* I did not 
 recognize the precious jewel I possessed : it looked 
 so like a common rouirh stone.*' 
 
 The historv of the hero's sufferincrs, the subse- 
 quent degradation of his character attributed to the 
 treachery of the woman he had so adored, pierced 
 Louisa's heart, but still there was a fascination 
 for her in every bitter word — in everv denuncia- 
 
SIGXS. 109 
 
 tlon. '•' How he must have loved me," whispered 
 the inner voice ; and it added, **' Can sach a love 
 die ? " The question engaged all her thoughts. 
 
 The proviseur came one afternoon when Madame 
 de Yillemont had ceased to expect him — she fan- 
 cied he was agitated, perhaps he was — and she 
 exerted herself to make him feel that he was 
 welcome. She was indiornant with ]SL de Blacourt 
 for being so little cordial, though, in &ct, the mar- 
 quis, penetrating her anxiety, entered more into 
 conversation than his inclination would have 
 led him to do. M. de Blacourt was sorrv to 
 see Gustave at Clairefonds ; he knew Louisa 
 thoroughly; he foresaw, from her present solici- 
 tous manner, what was to be dreaded from her 
 desire to make up for the past, and he had a re- 
 pugnance to the proviseur he had never had to 
 GiLstave Gastineau. Within the last two davs 
 the marquis had bought and read Gustineau^s 
 novels; he found in them talent enough and to 
 spare, eloquence and passion also, but also an 
 utter want of purity and principle. Gas tare's 
 mode of analyzing and of tracking the motives 
 
110 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 of action betrayed a complete disbelief in disin- 
 terestedness. Now, M. de Blacourt reasoned 
 thus : — Every writer consciously or unconsciously 
 puts himself in his works, and he who is unable 
 to describe generosity and self-sacrifice, who, when 
 he tries to paint a virtuous woman, gives us a 
 stupid doll, cannot have much feeling for or appre- 
 ciation of goodness. 
 
 M. de Blacourt had sought to turn to some 
 account those three days between tlie soiree at 
 the prefecture, and the proviseur's visit. He had 
 spoken to some of the leading men of Bar le Due. 
 They had all given Gastineau high eulogiums for 
 his admirable performance of the duties attached 
 to liis post; the members of the administration 
 thought well of him. The most fashionable ladies 
 of the town, who saw all things, heard of all 
 things, talked of all things, had nothing to say 
 against him. The proviseur was well spoken of 
 everywhere. To say that the marquis was re- 
 assured would be to state what was not the case. 
 He was as much dissatisfied as ever, for he was of 
 the opinion of the man who assei'ted that the 
 
SIGNS. Ill 
 
 human being for whom every one had a good 
 word must be but of little worth ; the universally 
 popular individual could have no fixed principles 
 of his own, for fixed opinions indubitably bring 
 the holder of them into collision with those of 
 opposite views. 
 
 However, he had no ground for any warning to 
 Louisa, and the marquis could not resist the mute 
 pleading of her eyes, to be friendly to Gustave ; 
 but what he did was far from satisfying Louisa. 
 What with the marquis's coolness and Mrs. 
 Templar's awkward inquiries about his mother 
 and sister, Louisa felt sure that the proviseur 
 would never repeat his call. She was dull and 
 dispirited all the evening. She answered an ob- 
 servation of M. de Blacourt's captiously, saying, 
 " I can't understand why people should always be 
 unkind to the friends of their friends. It is such 
 a petty jealousy." She spoke with extraordinary 
 petulance. 
 
 " Do you accuse me of being jealous of Gustave 
 Gastineau," asked M. de Blacourt, with a pitying 
 smile. 
 
112 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " I am sure you have no cause," retorted Louisa, 
 '^and that's why I wonder you sliould not have 
 been more cordial to M. Gastineau ; you know 
 how ill I behaved to him." 
 
 " My dear," said M. de Blacourt, kindly, " be- 
 ware of extremes." 
 
 He always spoke to her now, let her mood be 
 what it mifrht, like an indu]o;ent father. 
 
 " Ah ! poor Louisa," interposed Mrs. Templar, 
 " she always was either crying or laughing ; 
 never could take things easily." Then she added, 
 " Come here, child," and when Louisa was close 
 to her, she said in a whisper, " Don't behave ill to 
 M. de Blacourt — he is your best friend — he loves 
 you — your mother tells you so — and, Louisa, 
 better be an old man's darling than a young 
 man's snarling." 
 
 Louisa put a sharp curb on herself, and received 
 the unpalatable advice with a show of patience. 
 
 We have all read of those enchanted roads, out 
 of which unwary wanderers could never find their 
 way until the genius of the place dissolved the 
 charm. Louisa had already stepped into one of 
 
SIGNS. 113 
 
 these magical paths, and her truest friend could 
 not help her. All he could do was not to fret her 
 spirit, and to wait until his aid could avail. He 
 foresaw that the time would come when she would 
 need a true heart and a strong arm. 
 
 Not an evening now save Sunday that Madame 
 de Yillemont was not from home. She accepted 
 every invitation to dinner, soirees, or picnics. 
 When she had no party to attend, she would go to 
 Madame de Neuville's or the prefecture. The 
 presence of one person had become necessary to 
 her. As soon as the proviseur was in the same 
 room with her, she subsided into tranquillity. The 
 restless turning of her head, the inattention of 
 her ear, the anxiety of her eye, all ceased. The 
 tension of her fii^ure chano;ed into the laniruor of 
 repose — her eyelids drooped, the long lashes 
 making a shade on her clear cheek — her lips 
 wore a happy smile, and when she laughed it 
 sounded like a child's sweet lauo-h. She was 
 often silent without knowinor it. 
 
 Gustavo watched her, divining her every 
 motion with the penetration of a man who had for 
 
 VOL. III. 47 
 
114 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 years applied himself to the dissection of the 
 female heart. She often quivered from head to 
 foot under his fixed gaze, and only when every 
 involuntary gesture hetrayed her feelings, would 
 he place himself by her side. She would then 
 take a furtive look at him, and a glow of pride, 
 the pride of a woman in the man she worships, 
 sent a flush to her cheek. " How superior were 
 those strongly-marked features, that pallor of the 
 large brow, to the mere everyday handsomeness 
 of Severin de Pressy. How she gloried in the 
 sunken eyes, with their circle of bistre, as proofs 
 of thought and mental labour. 
 
 She had no idea how transparent to every one 
 was her preference. She did not know how her 
 colour fluctuated when Gustavo came near her 
 or left her. Women rarely imagine they show 
 the symptoms they so quickly detect in others. 
 Louisa never perceived how men had begun to 
 vacate their seat at her side whenever the provi- 
 seur approached. Some of the more mischievous 
 of her acquaintance would speak slightingly of 
 Gustavo's talents, declare they considered , him 
 
SIGNS. 115 
 
 over-rated, for the amusement of seeing her fall 
 into the trap, and fire up in defence of him. 
 
 Severin de Pressy was the only one who 
 persisted in offering to Madame de Villemont 
 those attentions which she desired only to receive 
 from another. He put a climax to his misdeeds 
 wdien, on one occasion, he favoured her with his 
 opinion of the proviseur's writings. He forced 
 the subject on her, evidently that he might satirize 
 them. He had no idea, poor fellow, on what 
 doubly tender ground he was treading; he was a 
 thousand leagues from supposing he was addressing 
 the original of Gustave's heroines. 
 
 " M. Gastineau's style is smart, and dazzles at 
 first," said M. de Pressy ; ^' but as for ideality or 
 poetry, strength or solidity, you seek in vain — a 
 selfish, gross materialism pervades them." 
 
 Louisa wondered for an instant whether M. de 
 Pressy had lost his reason ; then she said, witli 
 biting coldness, — 
 
 " As our opinions totally disagree, we need not 
 continue the conversation," and she turned her 
 back on him. 
 
 47—2 
 
116 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Another person, and one who had hitherto been 
 dear to Louisa, became, about this same time, an 
 object of fear, and certainly of jealousy. 
 
 One morning. Marguerite St. Georges said 
 abruptly to Madame de Villemont, — 
 
 " Madame, how shall I dress my hair when 
 I am married ? " 
 
 She had been having a singing lesson, and she 
 was alone with Louisa. At this unexpected ques- 
 tion, Louisa, who was still seated before the piano, 
 turned round to look at the speaker, and saw- 
 Marguerite standing before one of the mirrors, 
 smoothino; with her hands the thick braids of 
 black hair framhio; her face. 
 
 " Are you going to be married ? " asked Louisa, 
 astonished. 
 
 " Not yet," said Marouerite ; " but when I 
 do, this way of wearing my hair would not 
 suit a married woman — it is only nice for a 
 
 girl." 
 
 *' It would do very well, if you marry while 
 you are young. You would look a pretty figure 
 in a cap with ribbons." 
 
SIGNS. 117 
 
 Louisa left the piano, and took her usual seat 
 in the window, before her own little table, on 
 which laj her favourite books, her desk, and 
 work-box. The desk and work-box were elegant 
 toys ; they were not those of a person who habi- 
 tually worked or wrote. Not an end of thread 
 or silk hanging loose ; the painted china stopper 
 of the ink-bottle without a stain ; the pens, the 
 pencil-case, the velvet lining, all bright and fresh. 
 The books alone had the appearance of being in 
 constant requisition : a paper-cutter was in one, 
 another was full of withered flowers (the flowers 
 that Severin had taught her to know), serving as 
 markers for favourite passages. 
 
 Marguerite left her station before the glass, and 
 came and sat down at her friend's feet. 
 
 " Madame, how old is Mdlle. Fioretta ? " 
 
 " Three-and-twenty," said Louisa, 
 
 " Of age, and two years more, and not yet 
 married ! " exclaimed Marguerite, her eyes as 
 widely opened as their formation allowed. " Oh ! 
 that is terrible ! " 
 
 " There are many others whom you know who 
 
118 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 are not married, and yet tliey are older than 
 Fioretta." 
 
 " True ; but there is a reason in their case — 
 they have no money, and they could not expect to 
 be married ; that is never done, to be married 
 without a dot I have a little money." 
 
 " My dear girl, would it not be better to live 
 and die unmarried, than to marry some one who 
 marries you only for your dowry ? " 
 
 '- Live like ray aunt ! Oh ! dear madame, I 
 would rather throw mvself in the river. Oh ! no, 
 never ! " 
 
 Louisa bent down, and looked fondly into 
 Marguerite's face ; the girl's eyes flinched from 
 meeting those of Madame de Villemont. 
 
 *' What has put this idea of marrying into your 
 head ? " asked Louisa. 
 
 Marguerite played with the trimmings of 
 Louisa's dress ; then, with very red cheeks, and 
 an attempt at a laugh, she said, — 
 
 " It can't be wrong to wish to be married ; so 
 many good people are married. You think me 
 very naughty, I see," went on INIarguerite, tapping 
 
SIGNS. 119 
 
 Louisa's hands, to rouse her from a reverie into 
 which she had fallen. 
 
 " Not at all," replied Madame de Yillemont, 
 drily ; " French girls are so used to hear mar- 
 riage discussed as a commercial affair, that they 
 talk of marrying as they would do of taking a 
 house or going into business." 
 
 " And in your country, madame, is it dif- 
 ferent ? " 
 
 " The persons who marry usually choose for 
 themselves ; they are allowed to know something 
 of one another; and generally they have a little 
 aflfection the one for the other before they are 
 tied together for life." 
 
 " That does seem a better way," said Mar- 
 guerite. " Madame, did you ever see Mdlle. 
 Marsau Dupont?" 
 
 " Yes, I have seen her once or twice." 
 
 " Is she fair or dark ? " 
 
 " Fair, if I remember right, with a high 
 colour." 
 
 " Did you think her pretty ? " 
 
 " Not very ; but she has a nice figure." 
 
120 OXCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 <( 
 
 ee 
 
 They say she is very pious," said Marguerite ; 
 
 spends ahiiost all the day in church ; and she has 
 eight iniUions, they say, and that she could marry 
 any one she pleases." 
 
 "As for the eight millions, I doubt the fact; 
 but even with the quarter, she will not need a 
 lantern to find a husband," answered Madame dc 
 Villemont. 
 
 Louisa never thouo;ht of askin<2: herself what 
 connection there could be between Marguerite's 
 projects of marr^^ing and Mdlle. Dupont's personal 
 appearance, or she might perhaps have recollected 
 that it was rumoured that Mdlle. Dupont was to 
 be married to Severin de Pressy. Louisa never 
 so much as remembered j\L de Pressy's existence ; 
 she was quite absorbed by a ridiculous pre- 
 conception. 
 
 It is a way women have, that the moment they 
 seriously care for a man, he becomes the oni}'- 
 man worthy of affection in the world. If they 
 suspect any girl or woman of being in love, they 
 are stone-blind to the probability, or even the 
 possibility, of its being with any other than the 
 
SIGNS. 121 
 
 one tliey themselves prefer. On the smallest 
 j)retext they become jealous, and therefore unjust. 
 While Marguerite had been so suspiciously ques- 
 tioning her as to Mdlle. Dupont, Louisa had been 
 weavino; a romance of her own — the foundation 
 for which was Marguerite's praises of the provi- 
 seur. Poor little Marguerite had still much of 
 the terrible penetration of children (a gift which 
 seems to diminish in proportion as experience 
 augments), and, to give pleasure to Madame de 
 Villemont, she would often talk of M. Gastineau, 
 ask manifold questions as to his writings, and 
 speak admiringly of his being so good-natured to 
 such a poor ignoramus as she was. 
 
 Louisa now remembered all this, and at once 
 jumped to the conclusion, that Margaret's sudden 
 and anxious thoughts about marrying, were con- 
 nected with this admiration of the proviseur. 
 
 To her own distress, Louisa began to feel that 
 the presence of Marguerite was disagreeable to 
 her. She would say to herself, why should I 
 feel so resentful to her ? she only expresses the 
 current habits of thouMit of those about her. 
 
122 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Louisa tried to blind herself to the state of her 
 own feelings ; she yet held back from self-exami- 
 nation. She did more, she began to occupy her 
 leisure hours with speculations as to the likelihood 
 of Marguerite attracting the proviseur, and fancied 
 herself sincere when she decided that it was no 
 affair of hers. She was cured of this self-decep- 
 tion by the help of Fioretta. This young lady 
 had hitherto found flirting a very amusing pas- 
 time. She practised her powers on every man 
 she met, and, of course, her former acquaintance, 
 the proviseur, seemed to her worthy game to be 
 brought down by the shafts of her vivacity. But 
 he declined her every challenge, which piqued the 
 thoughtless little German into using the more 
 subtle weapons of sentiment. She began, at first, 
 by feigning a preference ; a dangerous play, which 
 often turns into sad earnest. Suspicious symptoms 
 of a real malady were soon manifest in Fioretta — 
 she took pleasure in saying disagreeable things of 
 and to Louisa. It happened that Fioretta had 
 been present at a conversation, when some one 
 had remarked on the extreme youthfulness of 
 
SIGNS. 123 
 
 Madame de Villemont's appearance ; adding, that 
 with such rare beauty, it was surprising to see 
 her so unspoiled by admiration^ and as simple and 
 natural as a child. 
 
 Gustave Gastineau had smiled ironically, and 
 had said, " I by no means suppose that Madame 
 de Yillemont acts a part — simplicity of manners 
 belongs to her class ; but it would be absurd to 
 suppose that a married woman of four-and-twenty 
 can really be unsophisticated. No, no, the height 
 of art is to appear like nature — that is why I 
 admire the perfection of her manners." 
 
 Fioretta repeated this observation to Louisa, in 
 whose bosom it rankled. The next time she and 
 the proviseur met, she treated him with reserve, 
 not unmixed with hauteur. He had shown no 
 little astonishment at this unexpected change, and 
 had been all the evening moody and depressed. 
 How innocently Louisa rejoiced over what she 
 accepted as a proof that she had the power to 
 make him gay and gentle, or gloomy and savage. 
 It was on that occasion that M. de Pressy had the 
 pleasure of seeing Madame de Villemont manoeuvre 
 
124 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 skilfully to avoid himself, that she might he 
 handed into her carriage by the proviseur. 
 Severin was so close to them, that he heard 
 Gastineau whisper, " What crime have I com- 
 mitted ? " and Louisa reply, " I could not help 
 it — I have been vexed by hearing how ill you 
 think of me," 
 
 " I think ill of you ! " exclaimed Gustave, and 
 the intonation was that of an adoring lover. 
 " You must explain to me what you mean." 
 
 " Not now,*' returned Louisa. 
 
 She went home that evening, her heart the 
 abode of faith, hope, and charity. 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 THE MERRY, MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 Louisa knew now what it was to be happy. 
 Every faculty was in full play. Every feeling, 
 every sensation, every enjoyment was doubled, 
 nay quadrupled. The tables of the salon were 
 loaded with books — reviews, magazines ; heavy- 
 lookhig volumes in German, French, and English 
 — her music had been resumed with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Gone to school again ! " exclaimed M. de Bla- 
 court, as he watched her poring over Schiller with 
 a dictionary by her side. 
 
 " I am so ignorant, so lamentably ignorant ! " 
 sighed Madame de Yillemont. 
 
12G ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " You are spoiling your eyes and complexion," 
 said Mrs. Templar ; " stooping after dinner will 
 give you a red nose — don't, my dear." 
 
 " Will it, mamma ? " and Louisa rose and 
 looked at herself in a glass. She saw how beau- 
 tiful she was, and some loving thought awoke a 
 smile. It was not that she cared to possess her 
 beauty, but that she had it to give away. Every 
 fibre of her being was vibrating with happiness. 
 She was in that phase of feeling when a woman 
 entirely forgets herself to think solely of the one 
 she loves ; when her personality is lost in his : in 
 short, when the love she feels, gives her greater 
 happiness than that she inspires. Understand, 
 Louisa had never confessed to herself that she 
 loved. She only acknowledged that the world 
 was beautiful, and that life was a beautiful 
 thino:. She was breathinfr that ma^ic atmo- 
 sphere which makes those who inhale it, see 
 everything coulenr de rose. She could perceive 
 only goodness in every one she met ; she had a 
 ready sympathy for every call on her attention ; 
 her voice was softer, more caressing, her eyes 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 127 
 
 found pleasure in all they rested on. She was 
 never tired, never ruffled. It is better for us 
 all to have felt once in our lives as Louisa then 
 did; it humanizes us, makes us more indulgent, 
 and indulgence for the errors, sympathy for the 
 sufferings of others, bring blessings to the giver as 
 well as to the receiver. 
 
 At four o'clock of every afternoon, Louisa 
 might, with certainty, be sought for in the covered 
 walk, overlooking the Polval Road, The view 
 was well worthy her seeking. The vines on the 
 hill-side nearest to her were at that season of a 
 rich green with the sheen and shade one sees on 
 velvet; beyond, there were fields of golden corn; 
 the distance blue, deep blue, save where the sun 
 shone, bringing out chalky headlands, or fallow 
 ground with deep reddish tints; the sky was of 
 the faint azure of midsummer with undefined 
 downy white clouds in masses — vines and woods 
 and hills were all mottled with light and shade. 
 
 The Charmille was no doubt a most inviting 
 walk, and you might easily have supposed that 
 Louisa went thither daily to enjoy the prospect, or 
 
128 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 she might go tliere to meditate and specuLite on 
 the difterence of human lots, as displayed in her- 
 self and those vine-dressers opposite, working for 
 hours and hours with bent backs, wliich at last 
 never straighten. But if you caught the bright 
 eager expression of her eyes, you would compre- 
 hend that she was not day-dreaming, under the 
 soothing influence of the hour and scene ; you 
 would guess that the view was unseen by her ; 
 you would perceive that all her attention was 
 fixed on that bit of road, some hundred feet below, 
 which was visible from where she walked. She 
 came to the Charmille every day with the rosy 
 flush of expectation on her face ; three times out 
 of seven she returned to the house wearino; the 
 livery of joy. To-day she is under the shelter of 
 a wide- spreading clematis, its pur])le flowers 
 streamino* over her head and shoulders; she 
 
 Cj ^ 
 
 presses one hand to her left side, to try and con- 
 trol tlie tumultuous beating of her heart. When 
 Louisa had first adopted the habit of going daily 
 to the Charmille at four o'clock, the clematis was 
 only in bud. 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 129 
 
 Screened herself from sight by the wavy 
 streamers with their purple flowers, she sees at 
 length a man's figure appear on the bit of road, 
 visible from her leafv covert ; she drew still fur- 
 ther back into the shady nook as the gentleman in 
 black, lifting his hat in salutation, showed that he 
 perceived her. 
 
 Gustavo Gastineau ran up the steps leading 
 through the vine to the garden of Clairefonds, 
 and in a minute or two he was with her hand in 
 his. The expression of happiness in her face was 
 more than he could bear ; his eyes drooped before 
 hers. 
 
 '• How late you are ! " she exclaimed, involun- 
 tarily ; then hastily adding, " I mean that it is 
 later than your usual hour for calling." 
 
 " I was detained," he said ; " the prefetto way- 
 laid me, she wants me to write her a play ; she 
 and Madame de Neuville have taken a new whim 
 in their heads : they are going to have private 
 theatricals." 
 
 " And shall you write something for them ? " 
 
 " Probably not ; these ladies imagine an author 
 
 YOL. IIL 48 
 
130 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 to be of the nature of Robert Houdin's wonderful 
 bottle ; you have only to ask and to have, comedy, 
 tragedy, farce, or melodrama : to free myself from 
 these dames, I had to promise to ponder over the 
 matter." 
 
 " You look tired," said Louisa ; *^ will you 
 come into the house, or sit down here ? " and she 
 pointed to a bench under the clematis. 
 
 " Let us stay here," said Gustave. And they 
 sat down side by side on the same bench, with 
 the purple flowers waving over their heads. A 
 long heavy spray lay like a wreath among Louisa's 
 clustering hair, for she had thrown off her garden 
 hat when they entered the shady recess ; the deli- 
 cate pink fluttered on her cheeks as she felt 
 Gustave's eyes dwelling on her face ; she was 
 still as a statue, save for the gentle signs of 
 breathing. 
 
 " You sliould be painted just so," said Gustave, 
 in a low voice, thick with emotion; "just so," he 
 repeated. 
 
 Louisa, listening to tones so full of repressed 
 passion, turned pale ; she was seized by that mys- 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 131 
 
 terious dread which clutches at a woman's heart, 
 when she expects to hear from the lips of the man 
 she loves the words that will seal her fate. Very 
 pale she had been, but she became of a deadly 
 white when, instead of uttering words of tender- 
 ness, Gustavo suddenly burst into a laugh — she 
 gave him a startled glance — Gustavo's eyes were 
 turned from her. 
 
 " I was thinking," he said, in a quite matter-of- 
 fact voice, "of my conversation with those two 
 great ladies. How they bespattered me with flat- 
 tery, and in such a flowery style ; I was their dear 
 friend, their poet ; they avowed with charming in- 
 sincerity that they were aware they could not be 
 good company for such as me, but still they knew 
 how to value genius ; why did I never go to see 
 them but by formal invitation — a man without 
 domestic ties, what solitary hours I must pass? 
 Not solitary, I assured them ; I generally spent 
 my evenings with a very pretty and pleasant 
 woman." 
 
 Louisa's lips formed the word " Vv^ho ? " but 
 she refrained from uttering it ; she had the con- 
 
 48—2 
 
132 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 sciousness that Gustave was meaning to pain her. 
 She excused him : " He cannot forgive me yet, he 
 does not know how I repent of my cruel folly." 
 She said aloud, — 
 
 '^ I do not perceive much flattery in what you 
 repeat ; I am sure those ladies meant what they 
 said." 
 
 " You, Madame de Yillemont, seriously believe 
 that Madame la Prefette and Madame de Neuville 
 consider me as their equal, me, Gustave Gastineau, 
 one of the people. You believe that Madame de 
 Neuville would give me her daughter, if I asked 
 the young lady in marriage ? " Gustave's stern 
 black eyes were searching Louisa's face. 
 
 " Ah ! " thought the silly one, " he wants to 
 know if I think of the difference of his rank and 
 mine, and so believing, she answered, — 
 
 " Yes, your position puts you on a par with 
 Madame de Neuville." 
 
 " My position," he repeated, scornfully ; " but I 
 have the unwarrantable pretension to wish that 
 Gustave Gastineau, the man, should be married for 
 himself, and not for his position." 
 
THE MERllY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 133 
 
 " I was speaking of a mother, who would of 
 course take position and fortune into consideration ; 
 the daughter " 
 
 "Ah! daughters — they are always so ingenuous, 
 so disinterested, they only care for a man's heart," 
 interrupted Gustave. 
 
 The conversation had taken an unlucky turn : a 
 little more in the same strain, and it must become 
 personal. Louisa said, with an effort to smile, — 
 
 " Do not let us quarrel about Madame de 
 Neuville's sincerity." 
 
 " I was not thinking of Madame de Neuville," 
 he said. 
 
 Louisa resolutely changed the subject by 
 saying she had been delighted with the book he 
 had lent her. 
 
 " What was it ? " he asked, carelessly. 
 
 " Maurice de Gu^rin." 
 
 " And so you liked it ? He writes much about 
 the clouds, doesn't he, and about the inner eye 
 and the tabernacle of humanity." Gustave spoke 
 mockingly. " Guerin was too much given to 
 introspection and to analyzing the minds of others 
 
134 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 — a sure way to grow dissatisfied ; he died just in 
 time for his reputation." 
 
 " You make me half ashamed of my liking for 
 the book, but once I am interested I cannot judge 
 
 or criticize." 
 
 " That is to say, you are a thorough woman ? " 
 
 Louisa was silent for a little, then she said, — 
 
 " I wonder why it sounds like a reproach to say, 
 you are a thorough woman ? " 
 
 Gustave laughed. 
 
 "Perhaps because Shakspeare has said, 'Frailty, 
 thy name is woman ! ' " 
 
 Louisa was nettled, and retorted, — 
 
 " I once heard some one say, that if lions and 
 tigers could speak, we should find that they thought 
 of mankind pretty much as mankind thinks of 
 them." 
 
 " Your argument does not apply to women ; 
 they can speak, and pretty loudly too, in their 
 own defence." 
 
 Louisa, turning suddenly to her companion, 
 said, — 
 
 " I have a favour to ask of vou." As she said 
 
THE MEERY DAYS WHEN WE WEKE YOUNG. 135 
 
 this, she looked full at him ; he met her eyes, and 
 she saw him change colour so violently that she 
 stopped. 
 
 " A spasm," he explained, passing his hand 
 across his brow. 
 
 " Are you suffering ? " she said, in a voice that 
 betrayed her. 
 
 '' Yes, very much," he answered, abruptly. 
 
 " What can I do ? " She half rose from her 
 seat. 
 
 '' Nothing ; a moment's quiet, if you please." 
 
 He could see the effort it cost her to say nothing, 
 <lo nothing. 
 
 " Have you any objection to walk ? " 
 
 " None," she replied ; and they walked slowly 
 up and down the Charmille. Louisa never knew 
 how nearly, when Gustave met her pleading eyes, 
 he had renounced his revenge and fallen at her 
 feet. 
 
 After two or three turns, he asked, in a cere- 
 monious manner, — 
 
 " What commission was it that you were about 
 to honour me with ? " 
 
136 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " Not a commission," said Louisa, " but a 
 prayer. If you do ^vrite anything for the 
 private theatricals you spoke of, pray don't say 
 bitter things against women — don't — for the sake 
 of the merry, merry days wlien we were young." 
 
 She said the last words in Eniilish. She had 
 never before alluded to the past. She did not 
 perceive the effect her speech had produced ; did 
 not see the savage expression of his face, for she 
 had looked down in proffering her petition ; but 
 the concentrated fury of his voice made her 
 shiver. 
 
 " Do not invoke the past to me, jMadame de 
 Villemont ; to do so, you must either be without 
 sense or feeling, or believe me to be a very for- 
 giving Christian." 
 
 *' I meant anything but to offend you," she said, 
 Avith great humility. 
 
 " Merry days, merry days — a cruel mockery I " 
 he muttered. 
 
 " No, indeed — a thousand times no ! I was 
 stupid, awkward — but, oh ! indeed not unfeeling, 
 not mocking ! " 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 137 
 
 It was impossible to disbelieve the trutli of 
 Louisa's defence ; useless to speculate as to what 
 might have been the result of their having at 
 last broken the icy silence in which they had 
 shrouded the passages of their young life ; for, 
 to Louisa's dismay, she at that instant heard 
 Fioretta's high metallic voice calling, — 
 
 ^^ Where have you hidden yourself ? " 
 
 Gastineau went forward at once to meet Mdlle. 
 von Ehrtmann ; Louisa lingered behind a moment 
 to master her agitation. Five minutes more, and 
 she and Gustavo must have come to an under- 
 standing ; he would have forgiven her, and 
 
 Louisa could scarcely restrain her tears. Why 
 had Fioretta come now at this hour, when she 
 had never done so before ? She stilled the quiver- 
 ing of her lip, though she could not stop the aching 
 of her heart. She heard Gustave saying, in a 
 cheerful voice, — 
 
 " You will find Madame de Yillemont in a 
 bower of flowers." 
 
 " Quite like old times, eh ! M. le Proviseur? " 
 was Fioretta's answer. 
 
138 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Cruel Fioretta ! and Louisa remained where she 
 was, waiting for his answer. 
 
 '* Curiously enough, mademoiselle, we were just 
 laughing over those same old times." 
 
 Louisa did now again, what she liad so often 
 done before with regard to the proviseur — she inter- 
 preted his words kindly, and believed that he was 
 trying to shelter her from Fioretta's indiscretion. 
 A generous nature is apt to give to the conduct of 
 others elevating motives. Strengthened by her 
 belief in his protecting sympathy, Louisa joined 
 her visitors. She was astonished to see Mar- 
 guerite St. Georges with Fioretta, for Marguerite 
 had been at Clairefonds all the morninii:. 
 
 " Confess you are puzzled as to what could 
 have made us intrude on vou at this sacred 
 hour," said Fioretta, with a malicious, defiant 
 smile. 
 
 Louisa had learned by this time that the safest 
 course to pursue with Fioretta was to take no 
 notice of any of her allusions. Louisa had come 
 to acknowledfice the truth of tliose words of her 
 mother's — " Fioretta is dancrerous." The German 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 139 
 
 girl had a sly way of her own of misrepresenting ; 
 she could have blackened the purity of an angel, 
 and yet claim not to have violated friendship 
 or benevolence. It only needs a good share of 
 audacity to do this, together with a ready, ringing 
 laugh, to show, in case of detection, that all is 
 meant in play. Aware that she was no match 
 for Fioretta at her own weapons, Louisa frankly 
 asked, — 
 
 " Why did you come ? " 
 
 " Because we expected to meet M. le Provi- 
 seur," said Fioretta, coarsely. " Marguerite and 
 I have a request to make to him." 
 
 Gustave turned to Mdlle. Marguerite, who was 
 blushing furiously. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he said, '^ you can have no 
 request to make to me — lay your commands on 
 
 me." 
 
 " That is very gallant, only it is not true," 
 said Fioretta, sharpl}?-. " If Marguerite were to 
 bid you jump down that precipice, would you 
 do it ? " 
 
 " I expect no such absurd commands from 
 
140 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Mdlle. Marguerite," said Gustave, with a reve- 
 rential air quite unusual to him ; usually, he was 
 either reserved or careless with women. 
 
 " Pray, my dear," said Fioretta to Marguerite, 
 " make use of your power ; give your orders to 
 your slave." 
 
 '^ But I liave none to give," said IMarguerite, 
 o-oino^ close to Madame de Villemont. Louisa 
 did not offer any encouragement to her little 
 friend. 
 
 Fioretta went on, — 
 
 " M. le Proviseur, as Marguerite St. Georges 
 is resolved to play her 2')art of ingenue, she cannot 
 venture further than a yes or no, so you must be 
 so cood as to listen to me. We have heard that 
 Madame de Neuville is going to have private 
 theatricals, that you are to be author, manager, 
 amoroso, &c. &c., and we have come humbly to 
 petition you to obtain invitations for us." 
 
 " I will, be assured, mesdemoiselles, make the 
 petition," said Gustave. " A request from 
 Madame de Villemont, perhaps, would have 
 
 more success." 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 141 
 
 " Not at all," said Fioretta. " You are the 
 Jupiter of the Bar le Due Olympus. We recluses 
 of the ville haute hear what passes in the councils 
 of the goddesses." 
 
 " How is it you have already heard of what 
 has only been thought of during the last day or 
 two?" 
 
 '' Monsieur, it is the penalty attached to cele- 
 brity, to enjoy no secresy. " You were au fait, 
 I suppose ? " addressing Louisa. 
 
 " M. Gastineau told me of the project only 
 within the last half hour." 
 
 They had been hitherto standing still. Fioretta 
 said, — 
 
 " Now, then, having had our petition graciously 
 accepted, we will take our leave." She added, in 
 a half whisper, to Gustave, " You are very good 
 to be so civil, when vou could beat us for the 
 interruption." 
 
 " You are bent on quarrelling with me," he 
 replied ; " but you will find me obstinately 
 peaceable." 
 
 The Charmille was too narrow to allow of 
 
142 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 more than two persons walking abreast. Madame 
 de Villemont walked on before with Marguerite ; 
 w^hen they turned into the broad alley leading to 
 the terrace which ran along in front of the great 
 salon, the proviseur came forward and walked by 
 Marguerite, 
 
 " Are you fond of the theatre, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " I have never seen a play, monsieur." 
 
 '^ The provinces are very rigid to young 
 ladies," said Fioretta. " Church is the only 
 theatre they allow to maidens." 
 
 With a sudden explosion of frankness, Mar- 
 guerite said to the proviseur, — 
 
 " I wish very much to see a real play, and I 
 should like to read your books." 
 
 The colour mounted to his temples ; he said, 
 liastilv, — 
 
 "Mademoiselle, I bco; — I entreat " ^lar- 
 
 guerite looked in surprise at him. 
 
 Louisa came to his aid. 
 
 " My dear Marguerite, your aunt has laid an 
 interdict on all novels. I once beixiied her to let 
 you read Cm(i Mars, and she refused. 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 143 
 
 "■ Yes, but I thought I might read M. le Pro- 
 viseur's." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you have too good an opinion 
 of me : one day I hope to write something worthy 
 of your attention." 
 
 Fioretta, tapping the proviseur's arm with her 
 parasol, said, — 
 
 " You have read Faicst ? " 
 
 " I have," he replied. 
 
 " I am sure I can't exactly say why, but really 
 you and Marguerite remind me of the Doctor 
 and Gretchen; she displaying such simplicity and 
 ignorance, and he so cunningly reverential and 
 flattering ; it did not end well for your namesake. 
 Marguerite." 
 
 " I must refresh my memory," said Gustave, 
 " for I confess I Iiave no recollection of any scene 
 in Faust that can apply to Mdlle. St. Georges 
 and me." 
 
 " I do not profess to be ignorant," said Mar- 
 guerite ; " I am ignorant, and I should be more 
 so but for dear Madame de Villemont." The girl 
 slipped her hand within Louisa's arm. " My aunt 
 
144 OXCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 and uncle always tell me to bless God for giving 
 me such a good friend." 
 
 Madame de Villemont had put on her large 
 garden hat before she had come forward to meet 
 Fioretta. x\s she turned round to answer Mar- 
 guerite's caress, Fioretta exclaimed, — 
 
 " Good heavens ! how pale and tired you look, 
 Louisa." 
 
 *^ I am a little tired. I should be glad to sit 
 down." They were all going up the flight of 
 steps as Louisa said this. *' You will come in — 
 will you not? " she asked, opening the glass doors 
 of the salon. 
 
 " I have already intruded too long," said the 
 proviseur. " Madame, 1 have the honour to wish 
 you a good-day." 
 
 " Go and lie dowu, Louisa ; you are ready to 
 faint," said Fioretta, with just a touch of feeling 
 in her voice ; — she was almost sorry for having 
 tried to worry and vex Madame de Villemont. 
 
 " May I stay with you, dear madame ? " pleaded 
 Marguerite. 
 
 ''Not now, dear; there's nothino- the matter 
 
THE MERRY DAYS WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 145 
 
 with me, except that I have been standing too 
 long. Good-by." And she kissed Marguerite on 
 the forehead. 
 
 As the proviseur walked away with the two 
 young ladies, Marguerite said, — 
 
 " I fear that Madame de Villemont is ill ; her 
 lips were like ice." 
 
 '^ She's such a nervous creature," said Fioretta. 
 " If she were really as delicate as M. de Blacourt 
 would make every one believe, she must have 
 been dead loner ago." 
 
 Neither the proviseur nor Mdlle. Marguerite 
 made any reply to this observation. Gastineau 
 left the ladies at the St. Georges' door. 
 
 *' I think M. Gastineau admires Madame de 
 Villemont very much — don't you?" said Mar- 
 guerite, as she and Fioretta stood together before 
 enterino; the house. 
 
 '^ Perhaps," said Fioretta ; " he was madly in 
 love with her when he was a boy ; but I have 
 an idea that " 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 *^ That ? " repeated Marguerite, interrogatively. 
 
 VOL. III. 49 
 
146 OKCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " I have no foundation for what I am going to 
 say, but I fancy he doesn't admire her as Severin 
 de Pressy does. Which would you prefer, Mar- 
 guerite, the proviseur or M. de Pressy ? " 
 
 " Marguerite will prefer him whom God sends 
 her, Mdlle. Fioretta ! " exclaimed Petite Maman, 
 putting her head, covered with a night-cap, out 
 of a window on the ground floor. 
 
 " I am off," said Fioretta. " Adieu ! " And 
 she ran away, light as a gossamer which sows a 
 weed wherever it lights. 
 
( 147 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEW PROJECTS. 
 
 As soon as her visitors had left her, Louisa went 
 up by a back staircase to her own room — she 
 must be alone, quite alone. She sat down and 
 closed her eyes to all outward things — she felt 
 annihilated ; no strength in her body, no courage, 
 nothing, nothing but a faint wish that it were all 
 over. This state of prostration was followed by 
 one of fiery indignation. He was revengeful, 
 unmanly, he enjoyed torturing her — there was 
 something of the tiger in him — the tiger played 
 with its victims. Is may had been right in warn- 
 ing her against any renewed intimacy with him. 
 Well, well ; she had thought he did still love her in 
 spite of all, — thought so till to-day. He had left 
 
 49—2 
 
148 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 her no possibility of believing that any more : 
 who could ever have imagined that Gustave 
 Gastineau could be harsh to her, almost insult- 
 ing. There was only oneway left for her now: if 
 she wished to keep her self-respect, or to be 
 respected by others, she must go away ; she 
 would leave the field to those ladies who made 
 so much of him. If he married Marguerite, she 
 hoped he would be happy; she would propose 
 that very day that they should go to the 
 Pyrenees, or to Baden-Baden: her mother's health 
 mif^ht be the pretext, or what need of a pretext? 
 people went to those places for pleasure, and why 
 shouldn't she ? 
 
 For a few minutes Louisa felt invigorated by 
 this decision. As the dinner-hour approached, a 
 reaction took place. Once she had made the 
 proposal to go away, she must abide by it: she had 
 been over hasty so often ; she must pause, lest she 
 should be imprudent again ; she ought not to 
 expect to be so easily forgiven ; she had inflicted a 
 wound, she ought to have patience till it was 
 healed — ah ! if they were ever friends again, how 
 
NEW PROJECTS. 149 
 
 slie would make him repent having given her all 
 these painful hours — she could not believe him 
 indifferent. Why should he seek her almost daily 
 if he hated her^ and then had she not had other 
 signs of interest ? Her paleness vanished as she 
 recalled how one evening when they had been 
 looking over an album together, he had laid his 
 hand on hers — and held it lono; so. The mere 
 recollection gave her almost the same emotion as 
 the reality had done. Surely no man would have 
 behaved in this way out of mere love of trifling ? 
 And then that day at the picnic, Avhen he had 
 snatched her up in his arms, at the sight of a 
 viper on the path : she had felt the wild beating of 
 his heart seen the expression of his face ; there was 
 no feigning there — oh ! she must wait, must wait ! 
 
 She appeared at dinner in more than usual 
 spirits, and told of the intended theatricals, of 
 Fioretta's coming with Marguerite St. Georges 
 to ask M. Gastineau to procure invitations for 
 them. 
 
 " It sounds so affected, Louisa, your calling 
 that man M. Gastineau," said Mrs. Templar. 
 
150 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " As for me^ I shall always say Gustave Gastineau ; 
 he will never be a fine gentleman for me, I can 
 tell him. Why doesn't he bring his mother, the 
 washerwoman, and his humpbacked sister, to 
 keep his house : it would be more respectable. 
 But he's afraid the 2;randees wouldn't notice 
 him then." The sight of Gustave, or the mere 
 mention of his name, always irritated Mrs. 
 Templar. 
 
 M. de Blacourt defended Gustave. " In his 
 position he is perhaps right not to bring his 
 relations here. The proviseur has raised himself 
 intellectually, as w^ell as practically, and those 
 excellent women could not be companions for him, 
 nor associate on terms of equality with the persons 
 who are anxious for his society ; it would be use- 
 less discomfort for all parties — ]\I. Gastineau has 
 always been a good son, I know.*' 
 
 " Ah ! well, many things have changed since my 
 time, INI. de Blacourt, but in my young days a 
 good child was one who obeyed the fifth com- 
 mandment: Honour thy father and thy mother." 
 
 Neither the marquis nor Louisa ever argued 
 
NEW PROJECTS. 151 
 
 with Mrs. Templar — they now changed the 
 subject. 
 
 That same evening Mdlle. St. Georges addressed 
 her niece seriously, in these terms : — 
 
 "Marguerite, don't let English notions about 
 marriage get into your head ; you have only five 
 and twenty thousand francs' dowry. Your uncle 
 and I may live till you are forty, and tliere will be 
 little to come to you then : you have no right to 
 be difficult like Mdlle. Dupont with her millions. 
 It is not so easy now-a-days to marry girls in the 
 provinces, young men go off to Paris, and get 
 married there. Look at the demoiselles Ruvigny, 
 they are going on for thirty ; Mdlle. Solanges 
 Mery, twenty-six if she is a day ; the two 
 Fauchers, all with more money than you, and 
 yet they have found no husbands. Ernestine de 
 Marsy had to put up with a lieutenant of forty- 
 five. You must not look for an eagle, child ; you 
 must put up with a sparrow; for instance, a 
 nice little Directeur des Postes, with a place of 
 eighteen hundred francs a year, and a thousand 
 from somethine^ else, I forcjet wliat, with the 
 
152 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 interest of your twenty-five tliousand, will make 
 up an income of nearly four thousand francs,* 
 more than we three have to live on, and by and 
 by there will be promotion. I have some one in 
 my eye." 
 
 Marguerite ventured not a word in remonstrance. 
 All her fine colour had left her cheeks. 
 
 " Well, what do you say ? " asked Petite 
 Maman." 
 
 '' I have nothing to say, my aunt." 
 
 " You don't like the proposal. Listen to me. 
 Marguerite ; the man I mean will make a good 
 husband — all the family are good folks." 
 
 "What is his situation, aunt? does he sit behind 
 a gratinc: and cjive out letters and take them in ? " 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle, and he ranks as one of the 
 authorities of the town, and his wife may go into 
 the best society." 
 
 "Is it — is it M. Bcrtin, aunt?" asked Mar- 
 guerite, with a shudder. - -,' 
 
 " Yes ; pray have you anything to say against 
 him ? " 
 
 ♦ JjCSS than 200/. a ^■cal• bv 40/. 
 
NEW PKOJECTS. 153 
 
 ^' Nothing ; but oil ! aunt, I can't, I can't — he is 
 not a gentleman." 
 
 '^ Not a gentleman ! he has been in Paris ! 
 taken his degree ! won't use any soap that doesn't 
 cost thirty centimes ! spends an hour dressing ! 
 and not a gentleman ? You have seen him with 
 the first young men of the town. Child, you have 
 lost your senses with being with Madame de 
 Yillemont. Do you expect the Marquis de 
 Blacourt, or M. Severin de Pressy to propose 
 for you ? My girl, you are mad." 
 
 " Give me a little time to think, aunt — a little 
 time," gasped Marguerite. 
 
 " Time — he has not proposed for you yet ; per- 
 haps never may." 
 
 " No, no, no," said Marguerite to herself as soon 
 as she was in her bed-chamber, the little closet 
 within her aunt's room. Early next morning she 
 was up and went with the lady next door to the 
 six o'clock mass, and then to confession. What 
 she there said remained a secret between her and 
 the cure. She returned home pale, but with a 
 cheerful face. Petite Maman called to her from 
 
154 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 the top of the stairs that she must make haste and 
 iron a shirt and cravat for her uncle. Marguerite 
 went at once into the kitchen. The ironing-table 
 was close to the open window, and the rays of the 
 early sun entering, played on Marguerite's beau- 
 tiful black hair, making lustrous her forehead, and 
 shining down on her round bare arms ; for on 
 returning from church, she had taken off her 
 muslin sleeves. 
 
 It was one of those morninfis which influence 
 
 CD 
 
 the spirits to gaiety, and Marguerite was in a 
 moment of reaction from the depression of the 
 previous night. She vras comforted by having 
 confided her trouble to the Holy Virgin and the 
 cure ; she felt sure that two such protections must 
 suffice to win her cause. 
 
 As she smoothed out and sprinkled the colonel's 
 fine shirt, she sung in a low, humming voice, 
 Cinderella's soncr, which Madame de Villemont 
 had been teaching her, C^?'a 2ui rk The choice 
 was not quite a chance one — ^Marguerite's fancy 
 was as busy as her hands. Her aunt had spoken 
 as if there were a ^ulf between her and a certain 
 
NEW PROJECTS. 155 
 
 person; after all the distance was not so great 
 between her and him, as between Cinderella and 
 a prince — though she was poor, she was well- 
 born. 
 
 She was a very pretty sight to see as she stood 
 there fresh as the dawn, apparently intent on her 
 household work, and Gustave Gastineau, out for 
 his morning's walk, stopped to contemplate her. 
 The picture and the associations it awoke, pleased 
 his artistic tastes. It suggested a subject to him — 
 there was matter for some beautiful pages. He 
 crossed the street and lifted his hat. 
 
 " Bon jour, mademoiselle." Marguerite gave a 
 little start ; he had awoke her out of a dream. 
 She smiled charmingly as she returned his salu- 
 tation without any embarrassment. He leaned on 
 the window-sill and said, " Mademoiselle, if you 
 were not Mdlle. Marguerite St. Georges, that is, a 
 young lady without a spice of coquetry, I should 
 accuse you of being a deep schemer." * 
 
 " In what way ? " asked Marguerite, her eyes 
 meeting his, untroubled. 
 
 "As you are now, you would touch tlie most 
 
156 O^XE AND AGAIN. 
 
 obdurate heart in tlie world. You are far more 
 dangerous thus than in a ball-room." 
 
 " I do not wish to be dangerous," replied 
 Marguerite, smiling. " You will get me a 
 scolding, M. le Proviseur, if you prevent my 
 finishing my ironing." 
 
 '• That is to say, you desire that I should go 
 away," 
 
 " Don't thhik me rude ; but I believe you had 
 better go." 
 
 The proviseur allowed his eyes to rest a minute 
 on Marguerite's pretty arms and then, with a low 
 bow, walked off. Marguerite did not resume her 
 sono;: she thourfit to herself, "How strano-e it 
 is that it is always some one that you do not care 
 for, who says pleasant things." 
 
 The cure called during the day and had an 
 interview with Petite Maman. He did not, of 
 course, mention any matter that Marguerite might 
 have confided to him in confession ; but he made 
 an occasion to say, that he should, with INIdlle. St. 
 Georges' sanction, begin to busy himself in finding 
 a suitable husband for INIarguerite. 
 
NEW PROJECTS. 157 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges launched out at once in 
 favour of M. Bertin. 
 
 The cure put up his under lip and remained 
 silent. 
 
 " You don't approve, I can see," said the old 
 lady. " I say again, he will make a good husband 
 — he is a young fellow of whom every one speaks 
 well." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt," said the cure ; " but he 
 won't suit your niece. She is intelligent, he is 
 not ; that's a danger, dear lady. Half the women 
 who go wrong do so, because they find no com- 
 panion in their husbands. A man, perhaps, not 
 so — not so " — the priest hesitated for a word, then 
 turned his phrase. " After all, the great requisite 
 in a husband is to have the qualities tliat can 
 master a woman's heart." 
 
 " And what may those be, if you please ? " 
 asked INTdlle. St. Georges, surprised at what 
 seemed to her quite a new theory. 
 
 " Strength of character ; a woman is happier 
 when controlled. She must respect, look up to, 
 rely on her husband ; she must never blush for 
 
158 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 him as lier inferior in intellect — love will come in 
 time, if she can be proud of her husband." 
 
 " And how and where is a poor soul like me to 
 find one of these nonpareils for Marguerite ? " 
 said Mdlle. St. Georges. " To tell you the truth, 
 M. le Cure, I never knew the man yet, whom a 
 woman did not look down upon after any intimacy, 
 — selfish, overbearing ; always expecting to be con- 
 sidered gods when they are mere demons." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear lady " then the cure re- 
 membered that the speaker had never been blessed 
 with a husband ; so he murmured gently to him- 
 self, "The fox and the grapes — the fox and the 
 grapes." 
 
( 159 ) 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE PATEICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Madame de Neuyille's large salon allowed of a 
 hundred seats ranged in rows like the pit of 
 a theatre: these were for the lady part of the 
 audience ; the men were to find standing room 
 where they could. The folding doors leading 
 into a second salon had been taken down, and 
 a row of flowering plants, among which were 
 hidden the footlights, marked the line of separation 
 between the spectators and the actors. The 
 scenery had been lent by the manager of the 
 Bar le Due Theatre. 
 
 The play-bills announced, "La Fille d'un Noble," 
 to be followed by " Le Moineau de Lesbie." 
 
IGO ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 The proviseur had found it possible to persuade 
 Madame de Neuville to accept of an adaptation of 
 the English play, " The Patrician's Daughter," but 
 it had been beyond his powers of eloquence and 
 tact to satisfy the amour propre of the t\yo leading 
 ladies in any other way than by having two pieces, 
 so that each might have a first part. 
 
 In the " Fille d'un Noble " Madame de Neuville 
 was the heroine ; she was a woman of eight-and- 
 thirty, and not handsome; but she had plastic 
 features, which easily expressed every emotion, 
 and, moreover, she was graceful. It was a pleasure 
 to see her move or even sit. Every one said of her 
 that she would have made a fine actress had fate 
 not made her a fine lady. It was to be seen on 
 this nio;ht what her talents for the stao-e mi^ht be. 
 
 The invited were punctual ; Louisa had her 
 seat in the front row — the last chair but one on 
 the left side. M. de Blacourt could therefore 
 remain near her. She had urged him not to leave 
 her — the title of the piece had alarmed her, though 
 she had not said so to the marquis. 
 
 Gustave was to play the hero (the secretary to 
 
THE patrician's DAUGHTER. 161 
 
 the old nobleman.) As the moment of the rising 
 of the curtain drew near, Louisa began to wonder 
 how Gustavo would act ; she had had no idea that 
 he would agree to do so ; in all her recollections of 
 him there was nothing that could make her suppose 
 he possessed any talent for acting. She grew so 
 nervous with a dread of his failure that she forgot 
 to think of her own presentiments. 
 
 The first scene represents a drawing-room in 
 the patrician's castle — Alicia seated at work — 
 Maurice at some yards distant reading aloud to 
 her. As he reads, Alicia forgets to work, fixes 
 her eyes on him, and listens with suspended 
 breath. This whole scene was admirably played 
 — Maurice's adoration penetrating through his 
 every effort at reserve, as the sun through a veil 
 of summer clouds — she with innocent zeal com- 
 bating some of the aspersions thrown on woman's 
 candour and disinterestedness by the author from 
 whose pages Maurice had been reading. The by- 
 play was consummate, preparing every one for the 
 coming struggle between the prejudices of rank 
 and the force of love. It was not alone that the 
 
 VOL. III. 50 
 
162 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 patrician's daughter would have to condescend, 
 but that Maurice would have to do battle with his 
 pride, which revolted against the humiliation that 
 must attend the acknowledged love of the poor 
 humble-born man who seeks a noble bride. There 
 is an aunt residing in the castle who has fathomed 
 the feelings of her niece better than Maurice. 
 This dear lady warns Alicia to be more careful in 
 her behaviour to the secretary, a fellow who aped 
 the character of a Brutus, to practise on her 
 ignorance and good heart; he liad already given 
 it to be understood by several of their acquain- 
 tances that the patrician's daughter was ready to 
 throw herself into his arms whenever he chose to 
 open them. Not feeling at all certain that the 
 indignation she has excited in Alicia will be 
 sufficient to insure a rupture between the lovers, 
 the aunt has recourse to quite a INIachiavellian 
 plan. She encourages Maurice to make known his 
 love to Alicia, whom she represents as pining for 
 the avowal. Maurice seeks Alicia on the instant, 
 reveals his long-concealed love, and, to his amaze- 
 ment, is sharply and haughtily refused. He in- 
 
THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 163 
 
 stantly resigns his situation as secretary — the 
 scene in which he takes leave of his noble employer 
 and of Alicia is a very effective one. Alicia, 
 strong in wounded pride, bears herself with dig- 
 nified composure as long as Maurice is present — 
 the moment the door closes on him, she throws 
 herself on her father's neck with heartrending 
 sobs. 
 
 As yet, there was not much in common with 
 what had happened between Louisa and Gustave. 
 She looked towards M. de Blacourt, and met his 
 anxious face with a smile; he leaned over her 
 chair, saying, — 
 
 "I once saw an English lady in this part, Miss 
 Helen Faucit — the only Englishwoman I ever saw 
 on the stage who thoroughly pleased me. To an 
 elegant appearance she joined an unaffected pathos 
 that went to the heart ; I shall marvel much if in 
 the next two acts Madame de Neuville can come 
 anything near to Miss Faucit's perfection of 
 acting. You know the story, of course ? " 
 Louisa shook her head. " Then I will tell it you. 
 Years are supposed to have passed between the 
 
 50—2 
 
164 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 first and second acts ; this Maurice, as all heroes 
 of romance do, has made his way to fame, riches, 
 and station; he is a perfect Tom Thumb, anni- 
 hilating all the giants that oppose him, he has 
 become a cabinet minister, has met the Lady 
 Alicia again, and, in short, is about to be married 
 to her." 
 
 Just as the marquis had reached this crisis, the 
 curtain rose : there was an universal " chut," and 
 M. de Blacourt was obliged to be silent — the salon 
 was not a theatre where one may disregard an 
 expression of public opinion. 
 
 The second act opens with the marriage party 
 all assembled: it is to be a marriage by special 
 licence. Maurice is the centre of a circle of 
 fashionable men and women, all desirous of a 
 word or sign of friendship from him ; his old 
 patron is a mere cipher in comparison to his 
 quondam secretary; at a given signal my lord 
 goes to fetch the bride. There is in Alicia's 
 manner an agitation fiir exceeding any to be attri- 
 buted merely to the embarrassment natural to the 
 moment ; the glance she gives Maurice has in it 
 
THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 165 
 
 fear rather than timidity ; he approaches her, 
 takes her hand, stands a minute in mute contem- 
 plation of her — she has lost the gaiety of youth, 
 she is pale — he sighs. Every eye is upon the 
 pair, every tongue is hushed, every one receives 
 an impression of something unusual, something 
 painful ahout to happen. Maurice speaks, in 
 tones subdued indeed, but with vibrations of 
 passion, which find a response in every listener's 
 soul ; he tells his early history, the struggles of 
 his boyhood, those of his early manhood, tries to 
 tell of his love — here the voice of the actor broke 
 down completely (it was not so put down in the 
 play) ; the audience, all but Louisa and the mar- 
 quis, thought it first-rate acting, and applauded 
 vehemently. Alas ! we often see similar fine act- 
 in o; in our soirees and balls, so fine that we do not 
 recognize it as acting ; we neither applaud it, nor 
 w^eep in sympathy ! Louisa felt herself growing ■ 
 blind, she involuntarily stretched out her hand 
 gropingly in search of a support. The marquis 
 took it in his and whispered, — 
 " Courage ! " 
 
166 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 The next moment she heard Maurice saying, in 
 a low huskv voice, — 
 
 " She refused me, not generously, not with the 
 charity of a woman grieved to give pain, but — " 
 here his voice rose shrill and loud, "but with 
 biting contempt, trampling out the faith, the 
 courage, the life of a man, and all, gentlemen 
 and ladies, because — can you credit it — because I 
 was poor. I had then the same eyes, the same 
 form, the same heart, the same mind — but I was 
 poor ! It is my turn now — I could not honour 
 her, nor worship her. I will not have her as my 
 wife ! " 
 
 A shriek from Alicia as she fainted, covered 
 another shriek. Every woman present was in 
 tears, many on the verge of hysterics. M. de 
 Blacourt took advantage of the moment when 
 handkerchiefs were covering every flice to carry 
 Louisa away. 
 
 In the last act, Gustave's eyes in vain sought 
 to discover Louisa in the salon. 
 
 Overpowered by compliments and congratula- 
 tions, the proviseur only paid attention to these 
 
THE PATKICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 167 
 
 words : " You have taken us all by surprise, 
 Gastineau ; do you know that Madame de Yille- 
 mont fell mto convulsions or fainted ? " 
 
 ^^What a pity she did not remain to see 
 Madame de Neuville die," said a girl's voice. 
 " Oh ! how charming she was ; how did she 
 manage to look so thin and white, and have 
 such holes in her cheeks?" 
 
 " For my part, I detest these sort of domestic 
 tragedies," said the marquis, as he and Madame 
 de Yillemont were in the carriage driving home. 
 " If I am to be cheated into terror and grief, let 
 it be for something grandiose in crime — Medea — 
 Lady Macbeth, not by seeing a poor little girl 
 breaking her heart for a selfish brute, who, strip 
 him of his borrowed eloquence, is a mean, vindic- 
 tive egotist ; full of self-love, but ignorant of any 
 other kind of love." 
 
 Louisa made no other answer to this tirade 
 than, — " What will people say of my coming 
 away : 
 
 " Who cares ? " said the marquis. " Besides, 
 no one was thinking about us; there was such a 
 
168 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 weeping; no one was capable of seeing or hearing, 
 and by this time everybody will be too busy 
 complimenting or being complimented to take 
 notice of our absence. Now, here we are at 
 home ; I hope you and all the young women who 
 have seen " La Fille d'un Noble," will come to the 
 conclusion that Alicia ought to have thought 
 herself fortunate for being spared the being the 
 luckless wife of that mean felloAv." 
 
 When Madame de Villemont opened her room 
 door, she saw her mother sitting at the table in 
 the centre of the room. Mrs. Templar was 
 even more spectral grey than ever, seen by the 
 dim light of the shaded lamp. Louisa's heart 
 contracted as her C3'es met those of her mother. 
 The same dread that she had experienced years 
 before, seized her now ; the actual room they 
 were in vanished, and they were again in the 
 salon of the Hotel de Hollandc. 
 
 " Mamma ! why have you sat up ? " exclaimed 
 Louisa. 
 
 " I wanted to hear all about the play," returned 
 Mrs. Templar, in the jaunty manner she occa- 
 
THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 169 
 
 sionallj adopted, and which inspired Louisa with 
 fear and repugnance. 
 
 Mrs. Templar's gaiety had always had some- 
 thing weird in it ; it resembled those sunlights 
 which sometimes shoot from below a black 
 thunder-cloud, a lugubrious contrast which gives 
 a fuller sense of a coming combat. 
 
 " Send your maid away ; I am going to undress 
 you as I used to do, when you went to your first 
 balls at Geneva : I never thought then of such a 
 life as we lead. You can go," she said to Mdlle. 
 Hortense ; " my eyes are good enough to unfasten 
 the dress of Madame la Yicomtesse." 
 
 As soon as she was alone with her daughter, Mrs. 
 Templar got up from her seat and began unlacing 
 Louisa's dress. " How did it go off, my dear ? " 
 
 *^ Admirably," said Louisa, her whole attention 
 engrossed by the appearance of there having been 
 a search made in her room during her absence. 
 
 As Mrs. Templar drew her nearer the hglit, 
 she discovered that the book her mother had 
 been reading was the last one that Gustave had 
 sent her ; luckily, the first had been burned. 
 
170 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Mrs. Templar must have hunted out her keys 
 — and opened her private cabinet. 
 
 " And that conceited fellow, Gustave Gastineau, 
 did he make a great fool of himself?" 
 
 " No, he acted very well." — The lace had been 
 drawn through the last eyelet-hole. " Thank 
 you, mamma, now I can do all the rest for 
 myself; sit down and warm yourself, mamma; 
 your hands are cold." 
 
 In the large, lofty rooms of Clairefonds, it was 
 necessary to light fires in the evening as early 
 as the end of August. Mrs. Templar sat down, 
 rubbing one hand slowly over the other; Louisa 
 was at her dressing-table, taking the flowers out 
 of her hair. 
 
 '^ Many people there ? " asked Mrs. Templar. 
 
 " The room was crowded, and every one very 
 smart, of course. Madame Bredy had a plume of 
 red feathers, and some one else, sea-weed, a la 
 mermaid. I have not seen such a gay scene for 
 many a day ; the lights were extremely well 
 managed, so, in spite of red feathers and sea- 
 weed, every one looked handsome." 
 
THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 171 
 
 Louisa spoke with vivacity, it was acting, and 
 quite as good acting as that she had just wit- 
 nessed; she knew there was something disagreeable 
 coming, and she was nerving herself to bear it. 
 She could just see in the mirror, that her mother 
 was leaning over the fire, holding her bony hands 
 to catch the heat of the flame. The thin, ash- 
 coloured fingers, with knotty joints, the attenuated 
 bent figure, the head almost in a line with the 
 shoulders, belonged rather to fourscore than 
 threescore. It was a pain to look at her. 
 
 Mamma, you must begin goat's milk again." 
 Why? I am very well." 
 
 *^ You are thinner than you were." 
 
 " Yes, I grow more and more like the lady, 
 all skin and bones ; how you used to shriek when 
 I came to the worms they crept in and the 
 worms they crept out. Look there," and the old 
 lady suddenly stretched out one of her legs. It 
 was like a stick in a stocking. 
 
 " You must eat more, mamma. You were 
 growing quite plump in the spring." 
 
 " It won't do, Louisa, I know you of old — every 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
172 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 turn and twist of you — you want to put me off 
 from speaking to you about that book. You 
 thought I shouldn't find you out, but I watch and 
 watch till I guess everything — ah, ha I my lady, 
 you can't deceive your old mother. Do get a 
 dressing-gown, your bare shoulders give me 
 shivers. ^ I wonder folks wish for children : 
 mothers have all the trouble and none of the 
 pleasures of them. It's unwarrantable, Madame 
 de Villemont, for a widow to go out in a low 
 dress, all for that nasty fellow too ! " 
 
 " You forget, mamma, that I wore a high 
 muslin gown — you unlaced it yourself." 
 
 " I have no power over you now, you are your 
 own mistress ; you fancy I am an idiot, yes, you 
 do, but I am not blind, nor deaf; you sit talking, 
 so fine and so learned, subjects your mother of 
 course can't understand — knows nothing about ; 
 but she knows very well where Timbuctoo is, and 
 that two and two make four and not five, and 
 while young madame is as proud as a peacock 
 with her palaver about books, the old crone in the 
 corner is reading men — do you hear ? and I tell 
 
THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER. 173 
 
 3^ou, that fellow you make sucli a fuss about, M. 
 le Proviseur, this M. le Proviseur (she spoke the 
 titles in a mincing, affected voice,) is a heart- 
 less coxcomb ! I am surprised at you, Louisa — you 
 who have refused princes, letting yourself down 
 to court a nobody, a plebeian : he is laughing in 
 his sleeve at you; he does not care for you, 
 he woiit have you, girl ! " 
 
 Louisa burst into tears ; unnerved already, she 
 could not stand any more attacks. 
 
 " Oh ! if that's the way you take your poor 
 mother's advice, I have done. It was my duty to 
 warn you, but you can't bear the truth. Don't 
 come to me for pity, whatever happens : at all 
 events, no one will say that you have pleased your 
 eye, for an uglier dog I never saw." 
 
 And with this parting dart, Mrs. Templar left 
 the room. 
 
17^ ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A PROPOS^VL OF MARKIAGE. 
 FiORETTA TON Ehktmann Qiid Marmierite St. 
 
 CD 
 
 Geortres came to call on Madame de Yillemont 
 
 the next morninfr- 
 
 '•' What made vou leave so soon ? " asked 
 
 ft* 
 
 Fioretta. " Some one said vou were taken ill." 
 " Yes, and ]\I. de Blacourt brought me home." 
 " The last act was dreadful," said Marguerite. 
 " Maurice would not believe anything as to Alicia 
 having been deceived, till the poor girl came and 
 died in his arms. How sorry he must have been 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Oh I child,'' said Fioretta, " men are easily 
 consoled for the loss of a woman ; they tell you 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 175 
 
 that, the better they have loved their first wives, 
 the readier they are to take a second." 
 
 " It is odd, is it not, Madame de Villemont," 
 said Marguerite, pointedly addressing her friend, 
 " that men and women should be always speaking 
 against one another ? My aunt abuses men, and 
 my uncle women." 
 
 " The consequence of being endowed with 
 reason," said Fioretta, drily. " It was a pity, 
 Louisa, you did not stay for the second piece — it 
 would have put the tragedy of the first out of 
 your head. The absurdity of Madame Delille 
 was high comedy, she has exactly as much turn 
 for acting as a parrot; she can repeat a set of 
 speeches with few blunders, but she does not 
 understand a syllable of what she repeats ; she 
 exclaims ' I love,' with the voice and face she 
 would have, if she had pinched her finger ; 
 Madame de Neuville acts well — admirably." 
 
 '' And the proviseur, I positively forgot he was 
 acting," Fioretta whispered to Louisa. " I fancy 
 there was more of reality than sham ; his thoughts, 
 I am sure, were full of what happened in Paris — 
 
(( 
 
 (( 
 
 176 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 there's a drop of gall in his heart, he will never 
 £:et rid of." 
 
 '' Probably never," said Louisa gravely, so 
 gravely that Fioretta was rebuked into letting 
 the subject drop. '^ \yarnings rain on me," 
 thought Louisa ; '' I must listen to them." 
 
 The marquis came downstairs towards mid- 
 day. He inquired how Louisa had passed the 
 night — *' had she slept ? " 
 
 Perfectly well," she replied. 
 It is such a charming day," he said, " that I 
 want you to let me drive y^u to La Fontaine des 
 Fees. You have spent years within five miles of 
 one of the most picturesque spots in the depart- 
 ment, and you have never seen it." 
 
 Louisa had a violent longing to stay at home ; 
 she expected the proviseur to call. She felt cer- 
 tain he would come ; he must have guessed that 
 the play had troubled her, and if he did come and 
 was told she was out, he would inevitably take it 
 as an excuse, and understand that she wished to 
 avoid him. Her first impulse, therefore, was to 
 refuse the marquis's request ; her second, to agree 
 
A PKOPOSAL OF ISIARRIAGE. 177 
 
 to it. She would resign lierself blindly to fate 
 — she would be passive, bid farewell to all 
 struggles. 
 
 During the first part of the drive, Louisa showed 
 a liveliness which did not impose on the expe- 
 rienced friend by her side. Her sprightliness, 
 her constantly recurring forced laugh, made his 
 heart ache. 
 
 " There's only one thing I should prefer to this," 
 she said ; " I should like to be on a spirited horse, 
 and to go at full gallop through these green glades. 
 Give the horses just a little touch ; I do so enjoy 
 speed — forcing my way through the air — wings — 
 wings are what I long for." 
 
 " And the day will come when you will say as 
 I do now, that the summum honnm is repose." 
 
 " A long while ere that day," and Louisa shook 
 her head gaily. 
 
 " It will come. Nature is kind in that, Louisa ; 
 it gradually prepares us to appreciate, as a boon, 
 that tranquillity which age makes a necessity. I 
 once also invoked wings, now I prefer a good arm- 
 chair." 
 
 VOL. IIL 51 
 
178 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 e< 
 
 I cannot understand why there should be 
 sorrow and death in the world," said Louisa, 
 without attending to what he had said ; '•' it would 
 have been as easy to make happiness a rule — and 
 why not a painless way of passing from one world 
 to another ? " 
 
 '' I see you do require wings, and strong wings, 
 my dear, to bear you up into those regions of 
 speculation whither your words tend." 
 
 '•' Did you ever know any one who was happy ?" 
 isked Louisa. 
 
 " Yes, and among your own friends — !Marc and 
 his wife." 
 
 "I am not sure they are. Ismay is always 
 anxious or uneasy about something or other." 
 
 " I never supposed you imagined happiness to 
 consist in absence of emotion — the drowsiness of 
 the lotus-eaters. Ismay is naturally full of solici- 
 tude for her husband and children ; that solicitude 
 keeps her heart free from selfishness, tlie verdi- 
 gris that tarniifhes so man}- domestic firesides. 
 Yesterday I found INIarc and his wife walking up 
 and down their strip of a garden ; they were not 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 179 
 
 clad in silk or velvet, nor had they a fashionable 
 air. I thought I saw something like agitation in 
 their faces. I said, ' Nothing wrong, I hope ? ' 
 ^ No, indeed,' replied Marc. ^ Ismay and I were 
 just talking over all our blessings, and our hearts 
 are full.' " 
 
 " See that now," exclaimed Louisa ; " out of all 
 our acquaintances, you can name only two whom 
 you believe to be happy." 
 
 '• My dear, you are too exclusive — you require 
 too much." 
 
 " Halt there," said Louisa ; " you are not 
 arguing, you are asserting. If happiness instead 
 of unhappiness were the order of the day, I should 
 be happy, however I was constituted. No — no; 
 the more I know, and the more I see, the better 
 I understand that Job was right when he wrote, 
 ' Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward ; ' 
 but why so ? that's what puzzles me." 
 
 " Can you explain why the sparks are made to 
 fly upward, and not downward ? " asked M. de 
 Blacourt. " My dear, there's only one certain 
 road to contentment or serenity, or happiness — 
 
 51—2 
 
180 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 however you may choose to name the sensation — 
 duty well performed." 
 
 ** Those poor horses are performing their duty 
 well. Do you think they are happier with those 
 curbs between their teeth, and the rein, and the 
 whip, or roaming free ? " 
 
 *' Louisa " 
 
 " Oh ! don't scold me, dear, dear friend — no, 
 you never scold me now. You are all goodness to 
 me ; but don't trouble to answer my nonsense. I 
 am unreasonable, silly, but I am still young, and 
 I do so long to know what happiness means — to 
 grasp it, if only for a space between sunrise and 
 sunset. Every one has a right to their share of 
 joy. It is easy for those who have drunk of the 
 spring, to preach patience to thirsty pilgrims." 
 
 " I am not going to preach patience to you ; 
 when the necessity comes, the virtue will follow. 
 Let us enjoy the present." 
 
 But Louisa's vivacity waned. She strove to 
 carry on the conversation ; she admired the 
 scenery, spoke enthusiastically of the picturesque 
 fountain, got out of the carriage to gather a 
 
A PROPOSAL OF I^IARRIAGE. 181 
 
 bouquet of wild-flowers, quite unconscious how 
 often she used words, which proved how absent 
 her thoughts were. The marquis had compassion 
 on her; he proposed that they should return, and 
 Louisa grew excited again as they neared home. 
 She should like to travel all over Europe, just so, 
 with a good pair of horses in an open carriage, 
 stopping wherever fancy or convenience suggested. 
 
 '^ Not an impossible desire to gratify," said 
 M. de Blacourt. 
 
 She was alarmed at once lest she should be 
 taken at her word, and hastily said, — 
 
 "Yes; but poor mamma." 
 
 " Suppose we winter in Rome, Louisa; it would 
 do us all good — your mother more than any 
 of us." 
 
 She changed colour visibly. 
 
 M. de Blacourt went on — 
 
 " We could go easy stages on account of Mrs. 
 Templar ; take the route through Switzerland, and 
 cross either the Mont Cenis, or go by the Simplon? " 
 
 "It would be pleasant," she said, reluctantly. 
 *^ I must find out how mamma would like it." 
 
182 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Before she was well out of the carrlacje, Louisa 
 inquired of the servant if any one had called. 
 
 " Madame Bredy and M. de Pressy." 
 
 She stood at the glass door of the salon, which 
 led into the garden — the hands of the clock on 
 the chimney-piece pointed to a quarter to four. 
 At last she took a resolution, went into her own 
 room, and laid aside her bonnet and mantle, 
 returned to the salon, sat down at her little 
 table, and opened a book. She valiantly tried 
 to read, but every one of her senses had merged 
 into the one of hearing. She was listening for 
 the sound of the door bell, or for a step on the 
 terrace below the window. The clicking of the 
 clock and the beating of her heart disturbed her ; 
 they were both so loud. 
 
 " One, two, three, four— ah ! he will not come 
 to-day." Then she remembers that the clock is 
 fast, and the way round to the porfe-cochcre 
 longer than up through the vines to the Charmille 
 — she will give him till a quarter-past four ; after 
 that she will agree to go to Rome, anywhere ; if he 
 does not come, she shall be sure that his choice of 
 
A PROPOSAL OF 2^IARRIAGE. 183 
 
 last night's play was intended to prove to her that 
 all was at an end between them. It was impossible 
 he could believe her indifferent to him — she had 
 perhaps done too much — but, right or wrong, he 
 could not imagine she did not care for him ; and, 
 if he had sought her day after day only to amuse 
 himself at her expense, well, he would not be 
 worth regretting. Five minutes after four — he was 
 not coming ; of all days, if he had any heart, he 
 ought to have come this one, and come early — ten 
 minutes went by — common courtesy had brought 
 others. This sharp pain — this fluttering cannot 
 last long — others have gone through it, and been 
 'able to bear it, and why shouldn't she? 
 
 The door bell rung, and Louisa started as if she 
 had heard the trumpet of doom. She could force 
 herself to speak calmly, but the little hand the 
 proviseur held was cold and clammy. His voice 
 sounded to Louisa as though he were shouting 
 to her from a distance. 
 
 He had regretted to hear of her having been 
 taken ill the night before — was she better ? 
 
 " Oh, yes, quite well ; she had been that morn- 
 
1S4: O^X'E AND AGAIN. 
 
 iiig to the Fontaine des Fees — she liad greatly en- 
 joyed tlie drive and the quick movement through 
 the air — it had been so pleasant that it had sug- 
 gested to M. de Blacourt the idea of their all 
 making an autumn tour in an open carriage." 
 
 " Ah I " was all Gustave's answer. 
 
 " I should like, of all things, to be able to talk 
 Italian," said Louisa, as if she really thought what 
 she said. 
 
 " I fancied you were busy with German." 
 
 " German could wait for another year." 
 
 Louisa was endeavourins; to steer clear of the 
 subject of the Fille dun Noble, 
 
 " I am rather mortified at your not vouchsafing ' 
 a remark on our last night's efforts," said Gustave, 
 abruptly. 
 
 "You and Madame de Neuville acted to perfec- 
 tion," replied Louisa, in a quick, nervous manner. 
 
 " And the i)lay itself — how did it please you ? 
 The plot is simple — taken from evcry-day life — 
 but perhaps you arc one of those who think that 
 tragedy ought to turn on some grander suffering 
 than the breaking of a poor young man's heart. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 185 
 
 But I fancy that the pain is much the same whether 
 it is the heart of a prince or a peasant which bleeds." 
 
 " The rank of the sufferer makes no more dif- 
 ference in my eyes than yours," said Louisa. 
 '• No ; what shocked me in the play was 
 Maurice's, unforgiveness — it was very unlieroic 
 — I would have found a better way of revenging 
 myself." 
 
 " You are too amiable to understand the gratifi- 
 cation he derived from his vengeance. I sympa- 
 thize completely with the feeling and the mode of 
 showin£T it. 
 
 " Don't say so ; can you not forgive ? some day 
 you yourself may need forgiveness and not find it ; 
 it is dreadful to think that you come to see me, 
 
 that you seek me, talk with me Gustave, I 
 
 can't pretend not to know that you are thinking of 
 the past — are you still angry — still offended with 
 me?" 
 
 " Offended, angry with you, Madame la Vicom- 
 tesse — " 
 
 Louisa interrupted him — 
 
 *^ It is not Madame de Villemont who is speaking 
 
186 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 to you, it is Louisa — once your playfellow. Gus- 
 tave, do you require me to ask you to forgive 
 me?" 
 
 He had covered his face with his hands — he sat 
 motionless as she made this appeal. Her feelings 
 had burst their inner bonds — she was carried away 
 by the flood. 
 
 ** You mistook my motives — you did — you did 
 — so help me, God — it was not love of fortune or 
 title — it was the ignorance and stupidity of an 
 inexperienced girl. Don't hide your face — look 
 at me, and judge if I am speaking the truth." He 
 did look at her — her eyes were strained on him, 
 dilated with fear and anxiety. " You believe me — 
 do you not? — that I had no such vile motives as 
 you said in those books — forgive me," and she held 
 out her hand. 
 
 He took it in his, then fell to examining it, 
 laying it on his palm, measuring, as it were, its 
 delicate proportions — tracing the blue veins with 
 his fingers. She remained mute and still. At 
 last he raised it to his burning lips, pushed back 
 the cuff of her sleeve, and kissed her wrist — 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 187 
 
 kissed it once and again — rougHy, violently — then 
 he let her hand drop. Louisa's heart grew heavy. 
 He went on — 
 
 " Do you know I found the other day, in an old 
 English grammar, a withered lily of the valley — 
 you must have picked it under the trees at the 
 swing, otherwise I should not have put it into the 
 book. You can never have an idea of the effect 
 the sight of that little dry yellow flower had on 
 me. I have read and written, too, of the pang- 
 given by the reopening of old wounds ; but I have 
 neither read nor written anything adequate to the 
 real anguish. Love and hate rent my heart in 
 twain ; had you been near, I should have done you 
 a mischief." 
 
 She said, with all a loving woman's sin- 
 cerity^, — 
 
 " I should not have been afraid." 
 
 "Then you would have been very foolish; 
 every man occasionally loses his spark of the 
 divine nature, and when he does so, it is wise to 
 be on your guard." 
 
 " You are trying to frighten me," said Louisa, 
 
188 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 now of a mortal paleness, " but I will not, I can- 
 not be afraid of you," and all the while she was 
 trembling, as the words dropped from her lips in- 
 voluntarily — she was indeed striving to extort 
 from him one of those reassurmg words which 
 can calm a heart racked by doubt. 
 
 " And why can you not fear me ? " he asked, 
 irritated by her persistency in expressing confi- 
 dence in him. " And why not ? Do you imagine 
 that to have mortally offended a man is a reason 
 for countino; on his tenderness ? " 
 
 '^ But I am so sorry " 
 
 He interrupted her. 
 
 " Sorry ! that's capital ; she is sorry, as if she 
 had mislaid her book, or lost her newest parasol ! " 
 
 " What can I say ? I don't know any better 
 word — I am sorry — oh ! so sorry ! " 
 
 He was like a wild animal that has fleshed its 
 fangs in some quivering prey. 
 
 " Why don't you fall at my feet, then, and 
 w^ash them with your tears? Sorry ^ shcs sorry I ''^ 
 
 Louisa was scarcely able to keep her teeth from 
 chattering, or to still the trembling of her bod v. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 189 
 
 " You say you have read my books, and 3-ou 
 fancy they describe all you have inflicted on 
 me I " 
 
 " Speak more gently to me," she said. 
 *^ Poor weak woman ! " he exclaimed, almost 
 with contempt. 
 
 " I don't deserve it, I don't," said Louisa, in a 
 broken voice. " I was an ignorant, ill brought-up 
 girl ; I did care for you before you made me 
 give that promise ; you should have had patience, 
 not hurried me, Gustave. Forgive me, Gustave," 
 and she seized one of his hands, kissed it, while 
 there fell fast on it scaldino; tears of humbled 
 pride and wounded affection. 
 
 " Do not, do not, I pray," he exclaimed, extri- 
 cating himself from her grasp. 
 
 At this moment they were startled by a click 
 of the lock of the door of Louisa's boudoir ; they 
 both turned, and both at the same instant saw a 
 human eye watching them — a little bit of the silk 
 blind of the glass-door was turned back. Gus- 
 tave's emotion vanished ; Louisa shrank back into 
 her chair, and closed her eyes. Gustavo's face 
 
190 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 wore the same menacing expression as it had done 
 on that day when in the little salon of the Hotel 
 de Hollande he had received his dismission. He 
 said, — 
 
 "You have already condescended too far, 
 Madame de Villemont, in apologizing for the 
 rebuke you gave to the presumption of a raw 
 bov. The son of a washerwoman, and the 
 brother of a shopkeeper, had no right to address 
 a declaration of love to Miss Templar ! You 
 have done a great deal for me to-day, you have 
 shown me that aspirations senseless seven years 
 ago, are reasonable enough to-day." He drew a 
 long breath, and then continued, " You wish to 
 atone to me for the suffering you inflicted; it shall 
 be so ; I will owe my future happiness to you ! " 
 He waited for an answer. 
 
 " AY hat can I do for vou?" asked Louisa, so 
 faintlv that it was more like an echo than a 
 human voice. 
 
 "You must have a pretty clear understanding 
 of what my private life has been, if you have 
 read ni}- novels ; they were autobiographies. I 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARKIAGE. 191 
 
 have sworn many a false oath, shed rivulets 
 of false tears^ done what wild young men do 
 when deceived by a woman. I had lost faith 
 and happiness ; I accepted pleasure. Lately, per- 
 haps from satiety, perhaps from other causes, I 
 have begun to dream again, to hope again ; " he 
 stopped, then said, " Did you speak ? " 
 
 '^ Go on," she answered, in that same faint 
 echo-like voice. 
 
 "I have pictured to myself a home, children 
 about my knees ; I am dead sick of what is called 
 society, of nerveless, heartless, bedizened women 
 fi-rimacino; at me. I believe that I could make a 
 wife happy ; I have had plenty of experience to 
 help me." Again he paused and examined Louisa's 
 countenance — not one word had he uttered but 
 had a hostile intention. 
 
 There are instants when we see tlie sword 
 about to fall on us, and yet remain helplessly to 
 receive the stroke. Louisa knew what was await- 
 ing her, knew that Gustavo was preparing to give 
 her the fatal stab ; he was withholding his blow 
 only to have the full perception of his own inge- 
 
192 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 nuity, and her lingering torture, and yet she 
 could not move a finnrer to frustrate his desiini. 
 But if her lips were silent, and her form motion- 
 less, the expression of her features was terrible to 
 see. Gastineau looked away, he was unable to bear 
 the siffht of that marble face ; not the less did he 
 persist in his resolve ; wounded self-love can make 
 a man not only very ridiculous, but very wicked. 
 
 " To carry out my idea," continued Gustave, 
 " I must choose a young heart, one so ignorant as 
 to have confidence in others : as for a companion, 
 I must wait till I have taught my young inex- 
 perienced wife to be one. I have found my 
 ideal here — here, by your side, Louisa. By way 
 of sealing our reconciliation you shall help to 
 bestow on me the happiness you once robbed me 
 of — you shall help to restore me to the paths of 
 virtue ; use your influence to obtain for me jMar- 
 gucrite St. Georges as my wife ! " 
 
 Louisa's white stony lips muttered, — 
 
 **' Arc you a man ? " 
 
 " Such as you have made me," he replied. 
 
 "You're a liar — a liar," shrieked Mrs. Tern- 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 193 
 
 plar, who had slipped into the room unnoticed. 
 " Get out of this house, you vulgar — vagabond ! " 
 
 She rushed at him with extended hands — fol- 
 lowed him with hisses. 
 
 In his haste to escape from the execrations of 
 the infuriated old woman, he ran against M. de 
 Pressy, who was just entering the hall, 
 
 Severin found Mrs. Templar leaning breathless 
 against the side of the vestibule door. ^' A vulgar 
 vagabond," she was^ repeating to herself. 
 
 You are ill, madame ; allow me to assist you." 
 No, I am not ill — my daughter is ill ; you 
 must not see her — she has been insulted by 
 that " 
 
 Mrs. Templar's words were arrested by the 
 sight of Louisa herself, deadly pale, but calm and 
 erect. She offered her hand to Severin ; perhaps 
 in that moment she was grateful for his love ; he 
 touched her hand as reverently as if it had been 
 that of a queen in misfortune. 
 
 " Mamma," said Madame de Villemont, " go 
 and lie down for a little — doy to please me." 
 
 "Very cunning, she's very cunning, sir; she 
 
 VOL. III. 52 
 
 (( 
 
 a 
 
194 ONCE AND AGAm. 
 
 wants to screen that low fellow, but I'll not let 
 her ; no, I'll be even with him yet." 
 
 Louisa's eyes sought those of ]\I. de Pressy ; 
 he understood that she wished him to take his 
 leave. 
 
 " If I can be of any use or service to you ? " he 
 said, anxiously. 
 
 " I will apply to you," interrupted Louisa. 
 
 His eyes filled as she spoke. The gentle 
 dignity with which she mastered some inward 
 anguish, touched him more than any outburst 
 of grief would have done. 
 
 That evening, Severin did not go to the club. 
 He paced up and down, till far into the night, 
 the public walk which runs along the sullen 
 river. There was no one there to disturb his 
 thoughts. He was speculating on the triumph 
 of evil here below, so strangely manifest in the 
 history of mankind from the very beginning. 
 The cruel lesson is forced upon us all one day or 
 other, if we live lono; enough to have to bear the 
 
 ^ or? 
 
 struggles and disappointments of life. He won- 
 dered of what was formed that chord which so 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 195 
 
 strongly drew Louisa's heart to Gastineau. Why 
 should her eyes brighten — her placid lips quiver 
 and smile only for that bad man? Wherein the 
 charm ? or was it only in fulfilment of that 
 mysterious doom, which seems ever to track the 
 steps of all that is loveliest or noblest in this 
 world? With heart aching and soul perplexed, 
 Severin returned to his solitary lodging, as the 
 first pale yellow streak above the hill announced 
 the coming of another day. 
 
 52—2 
 
196 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONDITIONS. 
 
 Mrs. Templar had cruelly liumlllated the pro- 
 viscur ill the very moment of his pitiful triumph 
 over Louisa. The burning shame and exaspera- 
 tion of having been driven Hke a chastised liound 
 from the presence of the woman he had hoped to 
 see at his feet, strengthened his resolve to prove 
 to her his utter indifference to her love. The 
 whole world might unite to defend her, to liumble 
 him, but none could take from him the power 
 to make her suftcr. 
 
 Uncertain whetlicr she would choose to under- 
 stand that he had been in earnest, in requesting 
 her to be the channel for his proposal of marriage 
 to Marguerite St. Georges, he went to ^Madame 
 
CONDITIONS. 197 
 
 tie Neuville, and begged she would undertake the 
 negotiation. In the meanwhile, however, Louisa 
 dreading that delay might bring her some fresh 
 mortification, had written to Petite Maman to 
 communicate the proviseur's offer. 
 
 Poor Mdlle. St. Georges was in a sore strait 
 how to trim the balance between her niece's 
 interests in this world and in the next. To marry 
 the Protestant proviseur was to the advantage of 
 the first and to the danger of the second. The 
 old lady never dreamed of the possibility that 
 there might be yet another difficulty in the 
 question. How should she ? She had never 
 known of a well brought-up girl excusing her- 
 self from accepting an eligible husband, on the 
 plea of liking some one else better. 
 . In the dilemma, Mdlle. St. Georo;es sought the 
 advice of the cure of her parish ; a priest, by the 
 way, tolerant of Protestants, and on good and 
 friendly terms with M. de Lantry, the same who 
 had helped Marguerite in the matter of M. Eertin. 
 Mdlle. St. Georges placed the case before the 
 cure, candidly avowed that she wished to accept 
 
198 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 the i:>roviseur's offer for Marguerite — it was all 
 she could hope or desire for her niece — if it could 
 only be arranged, without spiritual danger to the 
 wife — M. de Villemont had married a Protestant 
 — and the Duke of Orleans. What did M. le 
 Cure advise? 
 
 M. le Cure promised to see M. Gastineau; 
 there were circumstances which might even make 
 such a marriage agreeable in the eyes of Holy 
 Church : if the husband, for instance, showed 
 an inclination to enter the true fold. The cure 
 should know better what counsel to give, after 
 he had conversed with M. Gastineau. 
 
 M. le Cure was an urbane, courteous man, 
 indulgent from temperament, but he belonged to 
 his order. He did not hesitate to tell the provi- 
 seur that Holy Church condemned all mixed mai'- 
 riages as detestable and abominable." 
 
 " Aliens done ! we are in the nineteenth cen- 
 tury," Gustavo had replied with a smile. 
 
 *' True," insisted the curt, "but in matters of 
 faith there can be no compromise." 
 
 '•' I am to understand that you bring me a 
 
CONDITIONS. 199 
 
 refusal ? " And the priest perceived that Gustave 
 was really troubled ; yes, Gustave was troubled ; 
 he believed that his revenge was about to escape 
 him. 
 
 " That depends on yourself," replied the keen- 
 eyed cure ; he guessed that Marguerite's suitor 
 was in the mood to make concessions. " Holy 
 mother Church draws a wide distinction between 
 sins of ignorance and sins of knowledge. Mdlle. 
 St. Georges and her brother would sin with know- 
 ledge, did they consent to their niece, a daughter 
 of the true faith, becoming the mother of heretics." 
 
 Gustave smiled again and muttered, — 
 
 " 11 y a toujours des accommodements avec la 
 conscience." 
 
 The cure cleared his thi'oat so loudly, that, 
 perhaps, he did not hear this quotation ; Gustave 
 continued, — 
 
 " What are the conditions which would induce 
 you and the young lady's friends to entertain my 
 proposal favourably ? " 
 
 *' Entire freedom in all that regards your wife's 
 religious observances, non-interference with her 
 
200 ONCE AND AGADs. 
 
 choice of a confessor and with her obedience to 
 his counsels ; further, tliat all her children should 
 be brought up as members of the Church of 
 Rome." 
 
 " And why not of the Gallican Church ? " 
 
 " The larger contains the smaller. Rome 
 clasps within her mighty arms all her true 
 daucrhters." 
 
 " Well, M. le Cure, so be it, I am no biirot."— 
 The cure here gave him a sharp glance of obser- 
 vation. ^* If the knowledge that Mdlle. Mar- 
 guerite St. Georges was a Catholic did not deter 
 me from proposing to be her husband, certainly 
 the request to guarantee her the free exercise of 
 her form of worship, will not make me draw 
 back. We both believe in the same fundamental 
 principles." 
 
 "The lesser does not contain the greater," 
 interposed the cur^. "Why not pray to God, 
 monsieur, to enlighten your understanding ? pray 
 sincerely, ardently, and He will illuminate the 
 darkness of your soul. Knock, and it will be 
 opened." 
 
CONDITIONS. 201 
 
 " Always provided you do not, by your pre- 
 cautions, close the door when half- opened," said 
 Gustave, promptly. 
 
 " Sir, I will pray for your conversion ; God 
 grant my prayers may be heard ! " 
 
 " May I hope, then, that the obstacles to my 
 suit are removed ? " 
 
 " If you engage to ratify the stipulations I 
 have made. Colonel St. Georges and his sister 
 withdraw any opposition to your proposal. We 
 cannot answer for the scruples that Mdlle. Mar- 
 guerite may have ; nor will I promise to do aught 
 to overcome them." 
 
 When the cure had given this summary of 
 his interview to Mdlle. St. Georo:es, her con- 
 science permitted her to determine that Marguerite 
 should not throw aside the c;ood fortune so unex- 
 pectedly offered her, for the want of a little gentle 
 coercion. 
 
 At the mid-day meal on the following morning, 
 Mdlle. St. Georges was grave and silent, mani- 
 festing an indifference as to the appetite of her 
 brother, to which he was unaccustomed. 
 
202 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " What lias happened this morning ? " asked 
 the colonel ; " are we grown rich ? or are any of 
 us coiner to be married ? " 
 
 " My friend, you never know when to be silent, 
 or when to speak," returned Petite Maman ; " you 
 have a want of tact, that has told on your fortunes. 
 Considering all the grandees to whom you have 
 been aide-de-camp, if you had had a crumb of 
 tact, you would have secured some good berth for 
 yourself — other men get the good things of this 
 earth, and why ? because they don't speak when 
 they should be silent, nor laugh when they should 
 be serious." 
 
 ^' I shouldn't wonder if there's something in 
 what you say, old lady." And the colonel sub- 
 sided into his usual attention to his plate. 
 
 Marguerite proved that she had some of the 
 tact in which her uncle was deficient by asking no 
 question ; besides, she was certain to be told the 
 secret in the course of the dav, which the colonel 
 was not ; one of Mdlle. St. Georges' prejudices 
 being that mcii always let out whatever is con- 
 fided to them. It was, therefore, with no little 
 
CONDITIONS. 203 
 
 surprise that Marguerite listened to her aunt's 
 next speech to the colonel. 
 
 "You are not to go out this morning, my 
 brother, until I have spoken to you in private. 
 
 " Come with me. Marguerite,'' continued Petite 
 Maman. 
 
 Marguerite's heart gave a leap into her throat — 
 something dreadful was going to happen, for never 
 before, within her memorj^, had Petite Mamam left 
 the breakfast-table to be cleared by the femme de 
 menage, 
 
 " All the good luck, my niece, which I never 
 had, comes to you." It was thus Mdlle. St. 
 Georges opened her battery. "I understand 
 now, that when you declined M. Bertin's pro- 
 posal, you had your own reasons. My dear, I 
 could not guess that such a fine gentleman, the 
 pet of all our great ladies, would ever cast his eyes 
 on such a little goose as you." 
 
 Marguerite's lips opened ; but she had not the 
 courage to put the question she was dying to 
 have answered. Fear and hope agitated her. 
 
 " Men talk as if they admired sense and talents," 
 
204 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 said Mdlle. St. Georges ; " but they act as if a 
 pretty flice was the only thing they cared for in 
 a woman ; not that you are pretty, Marguerite, 
 I am your aunt, and can be honest with you. 
 You are fresh, you have a nice red and white, and 
 good eyes and hair ; but you'll be plain enough at 
 thirty, or before. Your mouth and chin are not 
 good, my dear. Madame de Villemont, now, 
 she'll be a pretty woman at fifty. Talking of 
 her, this proposal first came through her." 
 
 " Through Madame de Villemont ! " ejaculated 
 Marguerite. 
 
 " Yes. Now remember this. Marguerite. Your 
 choice lies between marriage and the convent. If 
 your friends approve of a man, you ought at once 
 to say, yes." 
 
 " If one has no repugnance, aunt," said ]Mar- 
 guerite, in a low voice. 
 
 " Repugnance ! " exclaimed Petite i\Iaman ; 
 *' repugnance to what, I should like to know ? 
 AYhat does the child mean? it's some Protestant 
 notion you have picked up from Madame de 
 Villemont — it's a vulgar, highly improper word 
 
CONDITIONS. 205 
 
 in a young lady's mouth ; never let me hear you 
 pronounce it again. Yes, it was through Madame 
 de Villemont herself this proposal has been made ; 
 and Madame de Neuville has sent me a letter of 
 four pages. All this ought to make you under- 
 stand that you can have no reason for refusing the 
 gentleman who seeks you in marriage. 
 
 " You have not yet told me his name, aunt," said 
 Marguerite, anxiously. 
 
 " He is rich — is going to Paris." 
 
 " Paris ? " interrupted Marguerite, and there 
 was hope in her voice. 
 
 " Paris, mademoiselle ; you know very well who 
 it is — don't pretend ignorance." 
 
 Marguerite had nearly pronounced a name, but 
 she stopped. 
 
 " Who is it, aunt ? " 
 
 " Somebody you have seen pretty often, I sus- 
 pect — M. Gastineau." 
 
 Marguerite sat very still. 
 
 •^ Well ! " exclaimed Petite Maman, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " jNIadame de Villemont wrote about IM. Gasti- 
 
206 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 neau for me ? " and Marguerite looked inquiringly 
 at her aunt. 
 
 " Wrote it to me with her own hand, and 
 Madame de Neuville, I tell you, has written also 
 — it is quite true, child. M. le Cure saw M. 
 Gastineau yesterday on the subject : he is going to 
 resign his appointment as proviseur — he is going 
 
 to Paris as editor of the Gazette: he is on 
 
 the high road to fortune. M. le Cure expects him 
 to be Minister of State some of these days. Come, 
 come. Marguerite, you guessed who it was from 
 the first ? " 
 
 " No, no, I did not ! " said the girl, vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " But you have no objection — can have no 
 objection to M. Gastineau ; he is rich, young, 
 clever, — you will be as well off as Madame de 
 Villemont; a carriage, perhaps. Marguerite, it 
 will make your uncle and me so happy." 
 
 " Dear aunt, I do wish to make you happy, 
 but how can I marry M. Gastineau ? he is a 
 Protestant." 
 
 Ah I that is the only drawback ; but one can- 
 
 (( 
 
CONDITIONS. 207 
 
 not have anything quite perfect. My dear, I 
 would not speak to you, till I had done my duty 
 in that matter. M. Gastineau behaved beautifully 
 — he leaves you quite free ; and if there should be 
 a family, he will guarantee their being brought up 
 as Catholics — he gave every assurance we could 
 desire to the cure." 
 
 " And M. le Cure, too, approves ? " said Mar- 
 guerite, in a quivering voice. 
 
 '^I tell you, yes, child," returned Mdlle. St. 
 Georges, angrily. "After all. Marguerite, it is 
 better to be married than single — a woman is 
 nothing, a nobody without a husband; who cares 
 for an old maid ? What's her social position ? what 
 can she do ? and with your small portion, if you 
 don't marry, you must come to letting lodgings to 
 officers, while here is a clever, rich young man — " 
 and Petite Maman entered on a second recapitula- 
 tion of Gustavo's attractions, and of the advan- 
 tages to be derived from a marriage with him. 
 She ended with, *' Upon my word. Marguerite, the 
 more I think of it, the less I understand why he 
 wants you." 
 
208 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " That is just what I feel also/' said Marguerite, 
 drearily. 
 
 ** But that's no reason for refusing him." 
 
 " Aunt, I must see Madame de Villemont and 
 M. le Cure." 
 
 And Marguerite put on her bonnet, and went 
 to Clairefonds. She was told that madanie could 
 not receive any one. She had scarcely again 
 reached home, when she received a note in pencil 
 from Louisa. 
 
 " Dearest Marguerite, — 
 
 " Pardon my refusing to see you. You 
 must first make your decision. 
 
 *' Your sincere friend, 
 
 « L. de V." 
 
 Marofuerite tlien souMit the cure. 
 
 " I hope our little heart is not an impregnable 
 fortress," began the priest, jocosel}-. Marguerite 
 saw that all those interested in her, favoured ^I. 
 Gastineau — she listened in silence while the 
 priest told her of Gustave's willingness to give 
 
CONDITIONS. 209 
 
 her entire liberty as to her religion; he spoke 
 "with enthusiasm unfeigned, of the noble victory 
 she might achieve by bringing her husband into 
 the true fold — quoted, in Latin, the text of the 
 believing wife converting the unbelieving husband 
 — impressed on her the reward promised to those 
 who save a soul. 
 
 Marguerite said with a humility quite pathetic : 
 
 " I do not feel worthy of M. Gastineau ! " 
 
 " And the reason, my daughter ? " 
 
 " When I have thought of marrying, my 
 father, it was not of him I thought." 
 
 " Ha — and the other," said the cure, " has he 
 given you reason to believe he thinks of you ? ". 
 
 " No — oh, never ! " 
 
 " He has attracted you by the display of great 
 virtues' — great talents ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 *' The eye is very deceitful, Mdlle. Marguerite." 
 And then the cure spoke to her in a soothing 
 paternal way, of her duties to her protectors — 
 " See, my daughter, what joy you can spread 
 around you — the load of anxiety of which you 
 
 VOL. III. 53 
 
210 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 relieve your good aunt, and better than all, think 
 of the noble mission you will have fulfilled, when 
 by the ascendancy gained by your wifely affection, 
 you have opened your husband's eyes to the true 
 light. And, my daughter, supposing you have 
 had a childish preference for some partner at a 
 ball, carry that fancy to the altar, and lay it there 
 as a sacrifice," and so on ad infinitum. 
 
 Marguerite went home consoled, but not con- 
 vinced — she would entreat M. Gastineau to give 
 her time — she did not wish to be ungrateful to any 
 One, she wished to please all her friends, and they 
 all evidently considered that she ought to mariy 
 M. Gastineau. 
 
 The next day Mdlle. St. Georges desired 
 Marguerite to put on her blue silk (this was 
 Marguerite's gala dress), and one of the neigh- 
 bours came in and dressed her hair. ^larguerite's 
 courao-e was at a verv low ebb ; she never ventured 
 a word of remonstrance ; it seemed to her tliat 
 somehow everything had been settled for her, 
 between last evening and this morning. The 
 shutters of the great salon were opened, an event 
 
CONDITIONS. 211 
 
 in the St. Georges' life, which did not occur three 
 times in the year, i.e., for the purpose of receiving 
 visitors. 
 
 M. Gustave Gastineau was a man of too many 
 and too varied experiences, not to be aware that 
 Marguerite had no preference for him. He 
 therefore went to pay this visit, resolved not to 
 run the risk of further negotiations. 
 
 Marguerite was standing by her aunt, flushed 
 and breathless, when he came into the salon. He 
 hurried up to her, and before she had the slightest 
 conception of his design, he had bent down and 
 kissed her on the brow, murmuring impassioned 
 thanks. 
 
 This was altogether a compromising and unpre- 
 cedented proceeding. Mademoiselle St Georges 
 was very angry, yet did not know what to 
 say or do — her nephew elect inspired her with 
 awe. 
 
 Poor little Marguerite from that moment 
 understood there was no escape for her, and 
 she resigned herself to her fate. 
 
 Pastor de Lantry's house was nearly as possible 
 
 53—2 
 
212 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 opposite to that of the Si, Georges', and Fioretta, 
 whose bedroom looked into the street, had seen 
 Gustavo arrive. 
 
 He had never visited at the St. Georges', and 
 Fioretta, who never could see a man and woman 
 together without suspecting a love-affair, at once 
 set it down as certain, that the proviseur had 
 some matrimonial project in his head regarding 
 Marguerite. She ran downstairs to Ismay to 
 impart her conjecture. 
 
 " If he marries that child, he is a wretch," said 
 the excited Fioretta. 
 
 " I shall pity Marguerite," said Ismay. 
 
 '^ And after the way he has pursued Louisa, 
 after all the public attentions he has paid her, 
 getting her talked of, and keeping other people 
 off," went on Fioretta, raging. 
 
 " To hear you talk," said Ismay, " any one 
 would imao;ine that IMadame de Villemont was 
 eager to marry somebody or anybody." 
 
 " I shall tell M. Gastineau mv mind," said 
 Fioretta, 
 
 *^ You had better' not interfere, it is no business 
 
CONDITIONS. 213 
 
 of yours — I am sure you would vex Marc 
 if you meddled with M. Gastineau's private 
 affairs." 
 
 '' Marc is not my husband, so whether he is 
 pleased or angry, it cannot hurt me." 
 
214 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LE CERCLE. 
 
 All the town was talking of Gustave Gastineau^ 
 of his good fortune, of his marriage, of his 
 approaching departure. The hopes that were 
 entertained of his conversion were as yet only 
 mentioned anion o; Mdlle. St. Geor^^es' intimates. 
 As many visits were paid and received in every 
 house as if it had been New Year's time ; Bar le 
 Due was thoroughly roused. Fioretta von Ehrt- 
 mann's voice was heard loud in many a salon; 
 she told everything she knew of Gustavo's early 
 life, of his first love and disappointment, and 
 wherever she went she left the impression that 
 Gastineau was behavino; cxtremelv ill to ^Madame 
 de Villemont ; she sacrificed Louisa to do a bad 
 turn to Gustave. 
 
LE CERCLE. 215 
 
 Sever in de Pressv was Fioretta's most attentive 
 auditor; hitherto he had neglected his oppor- 
 tunities for flirtation with that young lady, now a 
 sort of intimacy grew up between them. She, 
 finding what subject interested and kept him by 
 her side, never let it flag for want of matter. One 
 day she betrayed to M. de Pressy that Gastineau 
 had meant to represent Louisa in the heroines of 
 his novels; the burst of indignation with which 
 Severin received this piece of information sur- 
 prised Fioretta, and made her say, — 
 
 " For Heaven's sake never let anv one know 
 I told you ; I fancied you must have guessed it 
 long ago." 
 
 " Impossible ! You could never have supposed 
 that any one honoured by Madame de Villemont's 
 acquaintance would identify her with one of those 
 unhealthy creations ! " 
 
 Fioretta said in an offliand manner, — 
 
 " Of course I don't mean to say that Louisa 
 
 really resembles his L s or his Lucretias; 
 
 promise not to say I was the one to let you into 
 the secret." 
 
216 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 *' You may be easy on that point." 
 
 Once assured tliat she herself ran no risk of 
 annoyance, Fioretta was perfectly easy in mind ; 
 the excess of her shallowness made her unable to 
 apprehend the possible results of the activity of 
 her love of intrigue. 
 
 It was in the afternoon of that same day that 
 Marc de Lantry went to call on Gustave ; he did 
 so in consequence of a report which had reached 
 him that M. Gastineau was about to be received 
 into the Roman Catholic Church. The pastor 
 found Gustave alone, and with anything but a look 
 of triumphant happiness on his face. The light of 
 the late autumn day was already waning. 
 
 " I am not interrupting you, I hope," began 
 Mark, observing the table before which the suc- 
 cessful man was seated, to be strewed with letters, 
 pamphlets, and circulars. 
 
 " Not in the least : I am very glad to see you." 
 
 And this was really the case, for Marc had 
 aroused Gustave from a bitter meditation ; he was 
 in the state of collapse which follows the end of a 
 struoTffle. He was a successful man; he had 
 
LE CERCLE. 217 
 
 achieved renown, social position ; lie had achieved 
 his vengeance — and what then ? Why, life at that 
 instant seemed to him stale and unprofitable; 
 his thoughts had strayed back to the Rue de 
 Yarennes, the squalid garret, the brutal father, the 
 over-worked drudge of a mother, the cowed and 
 beaten children : he recalled it all, and also the 
 one thing that had brightened and softened that 
 miserable atmosphere for him — the lovely little 
 girl that sat on his knee, with her arm round his 
 neck, her rosy cheek pressed to his, doing what 
 she could to comfort him. Gustave had shut up 
 rancour and hatred in his heart, and his heart 
 was now in revolt against these cruel guests ; he 
 was suffering from his own hatred. Little by 
 little all the tender recollections he had so sedu- 
 lously striven to banish came stealing back : they 
 gained on him. 
 
 It was at this point that Marc de Lantry 
 appeared. 
 
 " Your visits are so few, they are the more to 
 be prized," said Gustave, with emphasis. 
 
 " My time is given to those who most require 
 
(( 
 
 (S 
 
 (( 
 
 218 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 it," replied Marc ; " I have little leisure, I assure 
 you, for making calls of ceremony or pleasure." 
 
 " Yet your duties are not very onerous ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, I have much actively to do ; 
 besides, I must study." 
 Study— what for?" 
 For my sermons." 
 
 They are pretty much the same always, are 
 they not ? " 
 
 " Why have you not taken the trouble to find 
 out for yourself? " 
 
 "I am not a hypocrite," said Gustave. "To tell 
 you a bit of my mind, I look upon all churches, 
 whatever their denomination, as nests of super- 
 stition ; all the talk of freedom of conscience 
 among Protestant preachers — humbug ; they ride 
 rough-shod over their flocks just as much as 
 Catholic priests do. For my part, if I am to 
 belong to a church, let it be the Church of Rome ; 
 it is logical at any rate." 
 
 "A logic which forbids the use of your own 
 reason and free-will ; a logic to which you, Gus- 
 tave Gastineau, can never and will never submit ; 
 
LE CERCLE. 219 
 
 the speech you have just made almost makes 
 unnecessary the question I have come to ask you. 
 In your present state of mind you are incapable 
 of feeling the force of arguments which can only 
 tell on a free heart and open conscience ; I fear 
 that to whatever church you openly adhere, it 
 will be a mere homage paid to public opinion. 
 Many, Gustave, respect and admire this generation 
 of ours, I do neither; it is an age in which questions 
 are raised, but not answered, in which uncertainty 
 is thrown on every doctrine, and even the holy 
 ramparts of sacred history are attacked, as 
 though they were a burden on the souls of men ; 
 at the same time there is a most cowardly outward 
 conformity to the ruling religion. A Roman 
 Catholic in a Roman Catholic country, convinced 
 that Protestants are right, would not openly avow 
 his conversion ; it would, maybe, distress his 
 family, or hamper his advancement, so he secretly 
 enters the fraternity of " libres penseurs," and — 
 goes publicly to mass. Well, that is bad enougli, 
 but I can, though grieving that it should be so, 
 allow for the influence of family affection, even 
 
220 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 for ambition, but I can make no allowance for 
 a man who professes a conversion, to further a 
 stupid petty revenge for a wound to his self- 
 love ! " 
 
 Gustave did not answer immediately ; presently 
 he looked at Marc with hard, dry eyes, and 
 said, — 
 
 " The wound was not so wide as a church door, 
 but it was big enough to let out a life ; she turned 
 my heart of flesh to stone ; from that day I have 
 never felt its pulses stir for any woman, my eyes 
 have never seen a glory round any woman's head. 
 I am young, not yet thirty, and I cannot love; 
 ■whose the fault — she has stolen my share of the 
 fire from heaven, the only spark of divinity we 
 possess ! " 
 
 " Then you do not love Mdlle. jNIarguerlte ? " 
 Gustave shrua'iied his shoulders, savino- — 
 " I am not indifferent to her. The spotless purity 
 of a young girl has an indescribable charm for a man 
 like me — a rose unsunned, a violet of the woods. 
 Your suggestive sister-in-law once likened Mdlle. 
 Marguerite and me to Gretchen and Faustus ; her 
 
LE CERCLE. 221 
 
 comparison reminded me that the philosopher and 
 the devil hoth agreed that the attachment of a 
 simple girl was man's greatest boon. I mean to 
 make her happy, and I daresay I shall succeed. 
 She Avill always feel that she is not sure of me — 
 a great element in a woman's happiness, I want 
 a quiet home ; I wish for children ; I have a 
 notion that parental love would do me good; it 
 is unknown to me ; perhaps I shall live to deplore 
 that also. I see by your face that every word I 
 utter adds to your bad opinion of me ; but believe 
 me, Marc, no man's actions are wholly bad, nor 
 whollv good. Man's feet are attached to the 
 earth, but his head rises towards heaven. Vin- 
 dictive and selfish as vou think me, I have been 
 merciful enough not to sacrifice Madame de Ville- 
 mont to the purgatory of a marriage with me. 
 I did mean so to punish her ; I have not done it. 
 I had loved her beyond words, then hated her 
 intensely. Love, once dead, has no resurrection ; 
 but I shrank from watching the light fade from 
 eyes that had been so dear ; I have done the best 
 I could for her and myself." 
 
222 ONCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 " I pity you," said j\Iarc ; " but Laving, as you 
 say, spared Madame de Villemout, why sacrifice 
 an innocent little girl to a heartless marriage? 
 You talk of having been robbed of your share 
 of the divine gift ; why rob another ? Are you 
 not afraid that Mdlle. Marguerite may wake 
 some day to brino; the same accusation as^ainst 
 you ? " 
 
 " I shall take very good care she never does 
 that," said Gustave. " It is men's weakness 
 which causes the faults of women. I shall 
 make myself master of my wife's heart as well 
 as of her person. I know of what stuff women 
 are made." 
 
 " I don't doubt the excellence of your tactics 
 with a coquette, but you have had little expe- 
 rience of single-minded women ; they carry a 
 sort of Ithuriel spear with them. The interest 
 which the remembrance of your boyhood still 
 keeps alive, must be my apolog}' for having 
 come to expostulate with you." Marc took up 
 his hat. 
 
 Gustave said, " Then I suppose I may expect 
 
LE CEliCLE. 223 
 
 a refusal, were I to request you to officiate at 
 my marriage ? It would go against your feelings 
 to give me the nuptial benediction ? " 
 
 " It would be my official duty to perform the 
 ceremony, if you required it," said Marc. *^ As 
 for the blessing, if Christ says, bless your enemies, 
 how could I refuse to bless you, over whom I 
 sorrow, but not in bitterness ? Adieu." 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Gustave ; " our con- 
 versation has not been of a nature to make a man 
 good company for himself. I will walk so far 
 with you." 
 
 The two men left the house together. 
 
 " Have you seen Madame de Villemont ? " 
 asked Gustave, abruptly. 
 
 " No." 
 
 There was a momentary silence, and the pastor 
 fancied that Gustave was about to give him some 
 painful commission, so he added to his bare nega- 
 tive, — 
 
 " Here our roads part." 
 
 Gustave did not seem to hear. 
 
 " Tell her," he said, " that the recollection of 
 
224 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 M. de Villemont separated us more than my desire 
 for retaliation." 
 
 " I will be the bearer of no such message," said 
 Marc. " Adieu." 
 
 " Au revolr," returned Gustave, and took his 
 way to the Cercle. 
 
 Severin de Pressy was only some yards in the 
 rear when Gustave and De Lantry separated. 
 De Pressy had been striving to walk off the irri- 
 tation produced by Fioretta's revelations. He had 
 been for the last hour pacing up and down by the 
 side of the canal. So uncomplaining, so con- 
 siderate of others, generous, full of intellect, yet 
 modest as the most unlettered could be, brave as 
 the bravest Frenchman, he was surely worthy of 
 Louisa's love. That he felt something of this, he 
 showed, by the constantly-recurring thought, " I 
 could have borne it, liad she given her affections 
 to one of a noble nature." 
 
 At this moment, as he caught the sound of 
 Gustavo's " Au revoir," he imagined it to be a 
 note of triumph. Severin recalled the feeble old 
 woman's rage, Louisa's sorrow-stamped face, and 
 
LE CERCLE. 225 
 
 the hatred of Cain suddenly awoke in his 
 breast. His agitation was so violent that he had 
 to turn back on his steps to regain his self-com- 
 mand. Five minutes later he bounded up the 
 stairs leading to the billiard-room. From the 
 ante-room, he could hear Gastineau's trenchant, 
 domineering voice, high above all the others. 
 When he entered the billiard-room, the ex- 
 proviseur was on a chair close by a window 
 leading into the balcony, the light of a lamp 
 falling on his strongly-marked features. 
 
 There was a chorus of welcome when De Pressy 
 walked in. 
 
 Gustavo put out his hand, as did several others. 
 Severin turned away abruptly, as if he had not 
 remarked Gastineau's gesture of welcome, and 
 shook hands cordially with the other men. 
 Gustave was visibly embarrassed. He left his 
 seat and pretended to be engrossed by a search 
 among the newspapers scattered about, for one 
 worthy of his attention; he ended by selecting 
 one a week old. In the meanwhile, Severin ha^ 
 placed the balls on the billiard-table, and taken 
 
 VOL. III. 54 
 
226 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 up a cue. Had he formed any plan of insulting 
 Gastiueau ? No one ever knew. 
 
 " Wliicli of you will have a game with me ? '* 
 he asked. 
 
 Two persons replied at the same instant — 
 Gustave Gastineau and a young man named 
 Louis Lemonnier, who had been looking over 
 the whist-players. Severin's eyes glanced dis- 
 dainfully at Gustave, and fixed on Lemonnier, 
 to whom he offered the cue he was holding. 
 
 " We will play twenty, if you like, old fel- 
 low," he said, with unusual familiarity; for 
 Severin's manner was reserved, except to inti- 
 mate friends. 
 
 The game began. Gustave, strongly and dis- 
 agreeably excited, kept moving restlessly near 
 the players, a prey to the discomfort a man 
 feels who is aware that offence is intended, 
 and yei knows not how to bring it home to 
 the offender. 
 
 They had been playing some minutes, when 
 Louis said, — 
 
 Apropos to nothing, have you heard that 
 
 (( 
 
LE CEECLE. 227 
 
 Madame Dulau has at last thrown off her weeds, 
 and that she is gomg to resume her receptions ? 
 Are you one of her set ? " 
 
 " N05" said Severin ; " you meet too many in 
 her salons, whom you meet nowhere else ; people 
 who seem to go only for the supper and the 
 lansquenet that follows." 
 
 Severin was perfectly cognizant of the fact that 
 Gastineau w^as one of Madame Dulau's intimates, 
 or habitues. 
 
 "As for me," retorted Gustave, in his most 
 dictatorial manner, " I go w^herever I find amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " Have you ever observed, Louis," continued 
 Severin, " how many people there are in the 
 world who say they go w^herever they are amused, 
 and who are only received, because their folly 
 affords amusement ? " 
 
 This time there could be no mistake as to 
 Severin's intention. Gustave's pale face became 
 scarlet. 
 
 " M. de Pressy," he called in a loud voice. 
 
 Severin had his back to Gastineau ; he was in 
 
 54—2 
 
228 ONCE A^'D AG^VIN. 
 
 the act of pushing his ball, and was holding his 
 cue horizontally. At this haughty pronunciation 
 of his name, he turned sharply round, and the 
 end of his cue hit Gustavo's hand sharply. This 
 time the powder exploded. 
 
 Gastineau snatched the cue from Severin, broke 
 it in two, and would have sent the pieces at 
 Severin's head, but that his arm was caught by 
 Lemonnier. 
 
 " You are an insolent fool," shouted Gastineau, 
 with eyes that glowed like hot coals ; " you shall 
 answer for your insolence." 
 
 Severin still retained his semblance of compo- 
 sure. Pale and haughty he approached Gustave, 
 and said, in a low, but distinct voice, contrasting 
 with the stormy tones of his adversary, — 
 
 "I am at your orders; I shall wait at home 
 to-morrow till mid-day, to receive any friend of 
 yours, only if you do not wish the police to inter- 
 fere and save you further trouble with me, you 
 will do well to moderate vour voice." 
 
 He immediately left the room with Louis, and 
 one or two other young men. 
 
LE CERCLE. 229 
 
 ^' What, in the name of heaven, made you 
 provoke Gastineau ? " asked Louis. '' He seemed 
 inclined enough to be civil to you." 
 
 " I could not resist the pleasure of insulting 
 him," said Severin. " Dear friends, the world is 
 not large enough to hold us both. One or all 
 of you must arrange preliminaries between us." 
 
 " But explain what is his particular offence ? " 
 cried Jules Gerard. " You are not going to fight 
 simply because you don't like the cut of his 
 features, or his coat. It is clear as day that you 
 gave all the provocation." 
 
 " My dear fellow, right or wrong, I am going to 
 iio-ht him : all I have to bees; of vou is to settle 
 matters for me with M. Gastineau's friend. 
 Accept whatever weapons he proposes, and allow 
 of no delay beyond the morning after next. I 
 should have preferred settling the matter in- 
 stanter, but I have set my heart on going to 
 Madame de Neuville's ball to-morrow ni^ht. I 
 would not die without seeing two or three of my 
 partners again." 
 
 " Die ! " exclaimed Louis. " What an idea ! the 
 
230 ONCE iVND AGAIN. 
 
 man of Greek and Latin will have small chance 
 against such a marksman and fencer as you ! " 
 
 Severin's answer was, — 
 
 " He is a successful man, and have you never 
 remarked the triumph of evil here below ? " 
 
f 2S1 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DERNIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 
 
 It had been from Mrs. Templar, that M. de Bla- 
 court first heard the news that Gustave Gastmeau 
 was about to be married to Marguerite St. Georges. 
 He had found the old lady alone in the salon, 
 walking up and down the room, twisting and 
 untwisting the strings of her apron. She had 
 said abruptly to the marquis, — 
 
 " Good riddance of bad rubbish ; I have given 
 him a lesson he won't easily forget; he won't 
 show his face here again, a low-born rascal.' 
 
 M. de Blacourt made a shrewd cucss as to the 
 person to whom she alluded ; he asked, — 
 
 " Has the proviseur been here ? " 
 
232 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 '' Hasn't lie ? He fancied he had only Louisa 
 to deal with I " Here I\Irs. Templar laughed ; it 
 was that cackle which belongs to bitter angry old 
 age. "I was up to his tricks. I watched him 
 through the keyhole. I am neither blind nor 
 deaf, thank God ! Can you believe it, he dared 
 to ask my daughter, the Vicomtesse de Yillemont, 
 to mix herself up in his paltry affairs, to ask 
 her to be his messenger ? " 
 
 *' Taking a great liberty indeed," replied the 
 marquis, humouring her. " x4nd what was his 
 request ? " 
 
 " To offer his hand — his hand, forsooth, as if 
 he had been a prince of the blood. You know 
 Louisa refused a crown prince; she might have 
 worn a crown, had she been little less than au 
 idiot. I have had very hard trials, M. de Blacourt, 
 and many a disappointment has that girl given 
 me." ]\Irs. Templar was whimpering. "A child's 
 ingratitude is sharper than a serpent's tooth, and 
 the sooner I am under the sod the better. I am 
 of no use ; she despises my advice." 
 
 " No, no," said M. de Blacourt. " Louisa can't 
 
DERXIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 233 
 
 do without you yet ; only this morning, she was 
 saying she should like to go to Rome, but that 
 she could not go without you." 
 
 ** I am too old to travel ; if she wants to do 
 that, she must manage by herself." 
 
 " You are not a bit too old to do anything you 
 like ; you'll live to dance at your grandson's 
 wedding." 
 
 " Dance ! I was once a fine dancer. I wonder 
 if I could ? " and she actually attempted a step. 
 
 " But you have not told me yet what it was 
 the proviseur asked Madame de Villemont to 
 do ? You and I must see that Louisa is not 
 imprudent." 
 
 " She is so wilful," said Mrs. Templar. " I give 
 it up trying to manage her — I begged her not to 
 make or meddle in his affairs. If he wants to 
 marry that doll-faced Marguerite St. Georges, let 
 him go and ask for himself. What business has 
 Louisa with it, I should like to know ? " 
 
 "You are right, madame; and I will tell Louisa 
 ■so , where is she ? " 
 
 In her own room ; she has got a headache — 
 
 {( 
 
234 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 always has one when she can't have her own way 
 Louisa is violent, M. de Blacourt — you remember 
 how she screamed like a fury when I came back 
 from England. Time flies — and here she is a 
 widow." 
 
 The marquis unconsciously sighed. ]Mr3 
 Templar caught the sound — she chuckled. 
 
 " It will be all the same a hundred years hence, 
 monsieur ; the heart that beats fastest and loudest 
 will be still enough then ; what's the use of making 
 such a fuss about this and that; let us eat and 
 di'ink, and be merry." 
 
 M. de Blacourt said, — 
 
 " I will not disturb Madame de Yillemont," and 
 hurried awav from the sinister old woman. 
 
 ft/ 
 
 Louisa was a sight to give the heartache ; but if 
 she paled and flushed at every moment, her voice 
 was firm, and her attention ready. Nevertheless, 
 you could see by the distended eye, the sudden 
 drawing up of the figure, accompanied by a 
 quivering of the breath, the pain that had to 
 be controlled. The marquis longed to be alone 
 with her, that he might lead her to give way 
 
(( 
 
 6S 
 
 DERNIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 235 
 
 to lier feelings. Mrs. Templar, however^ remained 
 a fixture in the room. 
 
 After dinner the old lady fell asleep, and then 
 M. de Blacourt said, — 
 
 Shall we go to Rome ? " 
 
 By and by — give me a little time — by and 
 by," repeated Louisa, adding — " I am a poor, weak 
 creature," and she looked at him with sad, wide- 
 opened eyes. " I shall soon get over it ; just at 
 first when masks are raised, and you see defor- 
 mity where you expected beauty, it gives one a 
 shock." 
 
 " I am not asleep," exclaimed her mother. " I 
 hear all you are saying — I found out what was 
 below his mask long ago. For heaven's sake, 
 show some proper spirit, Louisa — marry, my girl 
 — marry a rich man with a grand title, and dash 
 past that vulgar fellow in your carriage on your 
 way to court Wouldn't I crush him." And Mrs. 
 Templar lifted her foot and stamped passionately 
 on the floor. 
 
 " Poor mamma ! " and Louisa kissed her mother 
 fondly. *^ I have given you so much vexation — we 
 
30 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 are going to be liappy now, and live for one 
 another." 
 
 "Do you tliink that seeing yoa mope away 
 your existence is the way to please me ; I wouldn't 
 wear the willow for any man breathing." 
 
 M. de Blacourt drew Louisa back to her seat. 
 Mrs. Templar peered into her daughter's face — 
 
 '^ I am glad you are not crying. If you could 
 shed a tear for old Gastineau's son I would dis- 
 own you." 
 
 '' Mother, mother/' cried Louisa, '* it is because 
 he is not worthy of a tear that I am so wretched." 
 
 Mrs. Templar rose from her seat, and said, 
 sternly — 
 
 '^ Don't talk stuff; in my day no woman would 
 have owned she suffered for a man." And she left 
 the room." 
 
 Fioretta von Ehrtmann was the good-natured 
 friend who told INIadame de Villemont that it was 
 said she was breakiniij her heart for Gustave 
 Gastineau, and that no one expected to see her at 
 Madame de Neuville's ball. 
 
DERNIEKE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 237 
 
 " I always intended to be there," said Louisa ; 
 '' I will take you, if you please." 
 
 "That's right," returned Fioretta, encouragingly. 
 
 " My dear Fioretta, I wish you would not speak 
 to me as if I were a sick child." 
 
 " You cannot make me believe that you don't 
 care ; I shall always take your part, and say 
 that Gustave has behaved atrociously ill to 
 yon." 
 
 Louisa shrugged her shoulders — she knew how 
 useless it was to argue with Fioretta, or to. try to 
 make her hold her tongue. She had proposed to 
 chaperon Mdlle. von Ehrtmann to have an ex- 
 cuse for declining M. de Blacourt as an escort; 
 Louisa had a terror of any meeting between the 
 marquis and M. Gastineau. 
 
 In the course of the day she received other 
 visits. Madame Bredy and another lady called, 
 and found Severin de Pressy at Clairefonds. 
 
 He had wanted to make sure that Louisa would 
 be that evening; at Madame de Neuville's. He 
 had entreated her to promise to dance the last 
 waltz with him, and when she hesitated he en- 
 
238 OXCE AND AGAIS, 
 
 forced his petition by telling her that he was going 
 away. 
 
 " Are you ? That's sudden, is it not ? I hope 
 it is on account of promotion," said Louisa. 
 
 He evaded a direct answer, and, observing this, 
 she did not push the subject further. He went on 
 to say that he had lately received some books 
 which he thoutiht would interest her — miiiht he 
 ■send them to her, and w^ould she kindly take 
 charge of them till his return ? He intended the}' 
 should remain with her as a souvenir, Avhatever 
 the length of the journey he went. We all 
 struo-frle ac^ainst bein^ forcjotten. He had thouMit 
 it possible to bring Louisa to say that slie was 
 sorry they were not to meet again soon — even the 
 most conventional words of regret from her lips 
 would have been a consolation to him. ^ladame 
 Bredy interrupted them — she was full of gossip. 
 She had just come from ^Idlle. Chabot's messe de 
 mariagc ; it had been highly amusing to see how 
 the bridegroom fidgeted ; he kept talking to the 
 bride all through the ceremony. " It is a love- 
 match, Madame de Villemont ; that will please 
 
DERNIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 239 
 
 you. M. Gastineau was there — somebody asked 
 him if he was taking a lesson — he stayed till the 
 very last words." 
 
 " As for the sermon," said Madame Bredy's 
 companion, '^ I could repeat it by heart — it's the 
 same M. le Cure has preached at every marriage 
 for these last five years. I shall beg him to give 
 us something new when Marguerite St. Georges is 
 married ; indeed he must, for M. Gastineau is a 
 Protestant." And then the speaker suddenly 
 stopped short, as if she had made a blunder. 
 
 Both ladies inquired if Madame de Villemont 
 was to be at the ball that evening, and the inquiry 
 was made in a tone of interest which proved to 
 Louisa that Fioretta had told her the truth as to 
 there being much tittle-tattle on float about her 
 and Gustave Gastineau. 
 
 When Louisa entered Madame de Neuville's 
 salon, it was witli a dread of seeing the pro- 
 viseur. A quick glance showed her he was 
 not among the group of men near the door. 
 Gustave had abstained from iroincr; he was not 
 
240 ONCE AXD AGAIX. 
 
 sure he could command himself enoucch to meet 
 either Louisa or De Pressy with a display of 
 indifference. 
 
 By a mere accident, Louisa was dressed in 
 black lace with white flowers in her hair. This 
 startled Severin, for he was seeking omens in 
 everything. Between the dances, he went into 
 the card-room, and did what he had never done 
 before — betted high. He gained every bet ; he 
 had said in his heart, we shall see if fortune be 
 on my side. 
 
 He avoided Louisa during the first part of the 
 evening ; the draught of joy he should quaff in 
 the last waltz should not be weakened by any 
 previous sip. 
 
 When the moment came, he would have fain 
 put it off; half an hour, at most, and nothing 
 would remain of his happiness. His lips twitched 
 nervously as he led Louisa to a place in the circle ; 
 he turned giddy as he put his arm round her, and 
 then they whirled away among the other couples. 
 There was a laugh ; some one had fl^llen ; a fat 
 gentleman was on the floor, and his short-sighted 
 
DERXIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 241 
 
 partner put up her eje-glass to find out what had 
 become of her cavalier. 
 
 " Never mind," cried Severin ; and he clasps 
 Louisa again, and her fair curls come waving 
 against his cheek. 
 
 " That will do," said Louisa, stopping ; " I am 
 a poor waltzer." 
 
 She had perceived something strange in Seve- 
 rin's look, and she wanted to get away from 
 him. 
 
 " We will go slower," he answered. " It is 
 the last time — my last waltz — perhaps I shall 
 never see you again — be good to me this 
 evening." 
 
 No : certainly what she had feared was not the 
 cause of his excitement. They went on again. 
 
 " Press your hand more heavily — lean on me," 
 he said, in that tone which inexpressible tender- 
 ness imparts to the voice. 
 
 They danced to the last note of the music. 
 
 *' You will walk about a little," he said, to put 
 off the evil moment. " Come and have a peep at 
 the card-players." 
 
 VOL. Ill Z^ 
 
242 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 " Do you go soon ? *' asked Louisa. 
 
 " That reminds me," he said, without answering 
 her question. " that I have left the books I men- 
 tioned to you this morning, directed to you. You 
 will receive them to-morrow : keep them till I 
 come back." 
 
 She looked at him — sjie could not help it. 
 Most of us have heard the strings of a silent 
 instrument, forced to respond to the sounds drawn 
 from another. We have been told, if we do not 
 know it from our own experience, that sometimes 
 a note sung by a powerful voice will crack the 
 glass shades of candles in the same room. The 
 passionate feelings of one human heart will coerce 
 that of another to render an answer. Severin 
 saw Louisa change colour as he spoke to her ; 
 he felt her for an instant lean heavily on him, then 
 seek to withdraw her arm from his. 
 
 " Not yet," he said, and drew her hand back 
 to its former resting-place. She was on his left, 
 and she could feel the hard, quick throbs of his 
 heart. A sort of desperation of grief seized her ; 
 she knew what ailed him ; it brought back her 
 
DERNIERE INVITATION A LA VALSE. 243 
 
 o^YIi pain in its full intensity, and she had a mad 
 inclination to cry aloud and ask liim liow he dared 
 to make her suffer thus. What could she do ? she 
 was not to blame that he was unhappy. 
 
 A number of couples hurried by to form a 
 quadrille. 
 
 " Come and be our vis-a-vis," said a voice. 
 
 " Will you dance ? " asked Severin. 
 
 « Oh, no ! " 
 
 Louisa had taken her arm from his; she was 
 no longer acted upon by the vibration of his 
 anoruish. 
 
 " Then I will bid you farewelL'* 
 
 She offered him her hand, stammering, — 
 
 ** I am sorry — I hope " 
 
 " Thank you," he said, after waiting in vain 
 for the end of her phrase. He took one long, 
 yearning look at her and turned away. 
 
 What a weight of agony we civilized, well-bred 
 men and women can boar without a cry ? 
 
 Louisa sat where he had left her, thinking— 
 " Were other women's lives as full of incon- 
 gruities, of heartaches as hers? Madame de 
 
 55—2 
 
244 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 Neuville, wlio was so mad after pleasure, did 
 she ever weep ? Why not ? Had she herself 
 not been whirling giddily a quarter of an hour 
 ago ; her step as light as if her heart had not been 
 heavy as lead ? " 
 
 " What has happened to you ? " asked Fioretta. 
 " You have a Niobe look." 
 
 « Have I ? " 
 
 " Dear me, yes. What have you lost ? " 
 
 " Lost ?— nothing." 
 
 ^* Yes, you have ; you have lost your partner." 
 
 *^ I am not inclined to dance anv more. Are 
 you ready to go home ? " 
 
 " Indeed, no; I wouldn't miss the cotillon for 
 the world. Don't stop for me ; the Bredys or 
 some one will take me away with them." 
 
 Louisa was led to her carriage by one of the 
 young men of twenty, who seem to go to balls 
 for the purpose of looking after missing cloaks 
 and carriages. 
 
( 245 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFFERING. 
 
 M. DE Blacourt seldom or ever saw Louisa until 
 after mid-day. Early on the morning after the 
 ball, he sent a message begging to see her. He 
 waited for her in her boudoir. At the first glimpse 
 of his face, she knew that something dreadful had 
 occurred. 
 
 " What has happened ? " she asked. 
 
 " Severin de Pressy is dead — killed in a duel by 
 M. Gastineau." 
 
 " And the cause ? " exclaimed Louisa, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " A woman, of course," he said, with that 
 sudden elevation and throwing back of the head 
 
246 OXCE AXD AGAIX. 
 
 familiar to him when indignant. " Is there ever 
 any other reason for a man's misfortunes ? " 
 
 Louisa burst into a passion of tears ; the first 
 she had shed since Gustave had taken his cowardly 
 revenge of her. 
 
 M. de Blacourt did not appear touched by her 
 emotion. 
 
 " Ay, ay, women have an odd leaning towards 
 what is evil. Show them goodness and they turn 
 from it — it is prosy and stupid ; wickedness excites 
 their imaejination, there is nothine^ in 2:oodness to 
 whet their insatiable curiosity ; they will trample 
 on and forsake the ffood man, and clinc; to the 
 reprobate — struggle for him, defend him, suffer 
 for him, die for him. If 3'ou w^eep, Louisa, weep 
 for yourself, not for the quiet dead. Your loss is 
 greater than his ; he loved you with the chivalrous 
 love of an honourable gentleman — you were far 
 dearer to him than himself or his self-love." 
 
 " I do weep for myself," said Louisa ; '* I bring 
 misfortune on every one who comes in contact with 
 me — ah, deai', best of friends, your Louisa's heart 
 is broken ; if I could go back only a few months 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OEEERING. 247 
 
 — hopeless — hopeless. I can undo notlnng ; hut 
 believe me, do believe me, I have tried to do 
 right." She hid her head on the arm of the sofa, 
 and sobbed piteously. 
 
 The poor marquis was ready to do as much. 
 He sat down by her, praying her to forgive his 
 bitterness; she must not lay a stress on words 
 spoken in a moment of angry agitation — she must 
 not be hard on him. " Come, come, they must 
 make friends again.*' 
 
 Louisa turned her tear-stained face up to him, 
 and put up her trembling mouth to be kissed, just 
 as she had done at eight years old. 
 
 Mrs. Templar coming in, asked, '' V/hat was 
 wrono; now ? " When she was told of the duel. 
 and that Severin had been killed, she exclaimed in 
 her broadest Scotch accent, " The deil's aye kind 
 to his ain." 
 
 No one had thought it necessary to take any 
 precaution in telling jMargucrite St. Georges of 
 the tragical event, and her uncle and aunt were 
 utterly amazed when they saw her go down all of 
 a heap on the floor. The first words they said to 
 
248 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 the poor girl ^vllen consciousness returned, were, 
 " M. Gastlneau is quite safe, there's no cause for 
 anxiety." 
 
 " M. de Pressy is dead ? " said Marguerite, in a 
 dreamy voice. 
 
 " Mj dear, I am sorry to say he is," rephed 
 Petite Mam an, wiping her eyes. " I am thankful 
 for one thing, that his mother died last year — how 
 proud she was of her handsome boy." 
 
 *' He really is dead ? " persisted Marguerite. 
 
 " He was killed on the spot. M. Gastineau's 
 sword pierced his heart. They were fighting, my 
 dear, and M. Gastineau had to do his best." 
 
 Marguerite drew her breath sharp between her 
 teeth. 
 
 " Blessed be God," went on Petite Maman, " he 
 did not suffer lonii." 
 
 " I will go upstairs, aunt," said ^Marguerite, and 
 ran out of the room. 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georo;es looked after her with a 
 puzzled expression, then turned her eyes in- 
 quiringly on the colonel. 
 
 " It will put off the marriage," he said. " Gasti- 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFEERDsG. 249 
 
 neau gave himself up at once ; he is in prison — a 
 matter of form ; he will be sure to be acquitted, 
 for it is positive that poor De Pressy provoked the 
 challenge." 
 
 " Such a gentle-mannered young fellow as he 
 was ; it's a riddle to me his provoking a lamb. 
 What do people say they fought about ? " 
 
 " Well, it is whispered that it was about 
 Madame de Villemont ; that's what the women 
 think. Young Lemonnier told me that Severin 
 came to the Cercle, evidently with the intention 
 of provoking Gastineau." 
 
 " Then what makes them mix up Madame de 
 Villcmont's name in the matter? I'd lay my life 
 she has as much to do with it as our Marguerite." 
 
 '^You had better look after Marguerite her- 
 self; she looked dreadfully ill when she left the 
 
 room." 
 
 " I know what to do and when to do it," returned 
 his sister ; " let me alone, colonel, in the manage- 
 ment of the house, or take it on yourself — there's 
 the keys, and there's the purse ; make the best of 
 them both." 
 
250 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 *' I did not interfere as to the house ; I reminded 
 you of the girl upstairs." And the colonel took his 
 hat, and in a twinkling had escaped from the 
 domestic storm within. 
 
 To be out of temper is the way some very good 
 people have of showing their grief, and Mdlle. St. 
 Georges had an angry pain at her heart. She 
 recollected Severin as a child and as a school- 
 boy ; she had seen him grow into a fine young 
 man, and she felt an irritation against Gastineau, 
 which she was conscious was dan onerous ; her 
 attack on her brother was like the opening of a 
 safetv-valve. 
 
 When Mdlle. St. Georges at last went up to her 
 niece's room, she found Marguerite on her knees 
 before a small ivory crucifix, which hung over a 
 small ebony vase for holy water — ^larguerite's 
 treasures and inheritance from her mother ; Petite 
 Maman waited in silence till IMarguerite rose from 
 her knees. 
 
 " You have done right to pray " 
 
 Petite Maman stopped at sight of Marguerite's 
 face ; she laid her hand on the girl's wrist. 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFFERING. 251 
 
 " You are feverish, my dear, lie down and keep 
 quiet." 
 
 " Thank you, aunt, but I don't at all want rest ; 
 give me something to do — something that will 
 make me move, tire me ; I don't want quiet." And 
 then she burst into a little quick sobbing. " Do, 
 aunt, something to do, something to do ! " 
 
 " Come downstairs with me ; will you go out 
 for a walk? Will you go and see Madame de 
 Villemont ? " 
 
 " No — no — no ! " She put her hand to her 
 throat. '• It's so hard ! " 
 
 " What's so hard, my poor child ? " 
 
 " I did as I was bid ; I will tell you some day. 
 Give me something to do, aunt, pray ! " 
 
 A real strong emotion always exercises dominion 
 for the time being; Mdlle. St. Georges meekly 
 offered Marguerite the basketful of stockings to 
 mend. 
 
 " I can't sit, aunt ; something to do in the kit- 
 chen." And thither Marcruerite betook herself. 
 
 Mdlle. St. Georges remained behind with the 
 stockings, pondering over Marguerite's agitation. 
 
252 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 always arriving at the same conclusion, that she 
 could not understand it. 
 
 Madame de Yillemont and Marguerite were 
 both in the church during the funeral service per- 
 formed for M. de Pressj. People wondered to see 
 Marguerite there ; she was in deep mourning, and 
 so far from not seeking observation, she walked 
 steadily down the nave to the chairs surrounding 
 the bier on which the coffin rested ; she never 
 rose from her knees during the whole ceremony ; 
 she resisted her aunt's entreaties to return home, 
 and followed the procession to the cemeteiy. 
 There again she managed to get near the grave, 
 and M. de Blacourt, who was one of the gentle- 
 men who held one of the lowering ropes, observed 
 her throw something into the grave ; when every 
 one was moving away, she remained as if rooted 
 to the spot; tlie marquis offered licr his arm, and 
 led her away to Colonel St. Georges. 
 
 Marguerite's conduct was much commented on, 
 and very generally blamed; every one was of 
 opinion that out of consideration for licr betrothed 
 she ought to have stayed at home, at all events 
 
makgaret's votive offering. 253 
 
 * 
 
 avoided doing anything that challenged public 
 attention. The colonel and Mdlle. St. Georges 
 Were scandalized and grieved, but, as they con- 
 fessed to their friends. Marguerite had never been 
 herself since the duel. 
 
 " And no wonder," said those who received this 
 confidence ; " never was a more awkward situa- 
 tion for a girl ; still it would be better if she 
 could be induced to imitate Madame de Ville- 
 mont's avoidance of all occasions for drawing: on 
 herself any remarks. 
 
 Louisa had made many attempts to see Mar- 
 guerite — had written to beg her to come to Claire- 
 fonds, but Marguerite charged her aunt to excuse 
 her to Madame de Villemont. Mdlle. St. Georo-es 
 was to say that Marguerite was trying to recover 
 her spirits, to regain composure ; that she could 
 not see Madame de Villemont without a recur- 
 rence to distressing and painful topics ; as soon as 
 she had thoroughly mastered her grief, she would 
 go to Clairefonds. 
 
 It is accordino* to circumstances and characters 
 that passions reveal themselves; they may have 
 
254 ONCE AND AGAIN'. 
 
 smouldered for years, and tlien burst forth with 
 the force and rapidity of hghtning. This was too 
 evidently Marguerite's predicament; but for 
 Severin's cruel death she mio-ht never have 
 known the breadth and depth of her feelings for 
 him. 
 
 M. de Blacourt ao^ain urfred Louisa to leave 
 Bar le Due; he could not at first fathom the 
 cause of her unwillingness to go away from a 
 place so fraught with painful recollections for her, 
 and indeed for them all ; at last she explained to 
 him that she would not move until after Gustave's 
 trial was over. 
 
 " Public opinion," she said, " is hard upon him ; 
 I wish to remain in his neighbourhood in case that 
 I could be of use to him." 
 
 " And afterwards ? " 
 
 " Anywhere you like," she said, and voice and 
 gesture expressed the indilference she felt. 
 
 One day early in October, ]M. de Blacourt 
 announced to Louisa that he was f!;oin£!: to St. 
 Mihcl to attend Gastineau's trial. 
 
 She looked at him wistfullv. 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFFERING. 255 
 
 " Remember," she said, ^' that I am not guilt- 
 less in the matter ; it was my folly which laid the 
 foundation of all his sorrow and wrong-doing." 
 
 " False reasoning, my dear. You might as well 
 say that it laid the foundation of his celebrity. It 
 is the bad seed in the man's own heart which has 
 broucfht forth the evil fruit." 
 
 " I know I am about to ask a great deal of you," 
 she said ; " but for the ease of my conscience, if 
 you see a need for it, give him ijoiir support — if 
 you merely own him as an acquaintance — it must 
 do good." 
 
 " He will not require my assistance, but if I see 
 a reason for putting myself forward, I will do 
 what I can for your sake." 
 
 " Thank you ; I am very grateful." 
 
 The same evening M. de Blacourt brought 
 Louisa the news of Gustave's having escaped with 
 merely a fine of three thousand francs. It had been 
 clearly proved that De Pressy had used provoca- 
 tion, which allowed of the plea of extenuating 
 circumstances. The procureur royale prosecuted, 
 and confined himself to a bare statement of facts 
 
256 ONCE AXD AGAIN. 
 
 — there had been no pleading against the accused 
 — St. Georges was present, but there had been no 
 call upon either of them for any protestations of 
 good opinion. In common justice, the marquis 
 must admit that poor Severin did not leave 
 M. Gastineau any alternative but to fight." 
 
 Louisa put no further questions. After a little 
 she said, — 
 
 " I will begin my preparations for leaving this ; 
 I have had plenty to make me dislike it; yet, 
 strange to say, it gives me real pain only to think 
 of going away. I wonder if I shall ever come 
 back again." 
 
 " No doubt," said the marquis, who wished to 
 encourao;e her to seek chanoje of scene. 
 
 " I am going because I see you are anxious that 
 I should," she said ; " have you fixed where ? " 
 
 "I thought it was settled we should winter in 
 Rome — we must first go to Paris, and take our 
 final departure from thence." 
 
 " You must undertake to persuade mamma," she 
 said, and then the subject dropped. 
 
 About a week afterwards Marguerite St. 
 
AIARGABET'S VOTrV^E OFFERING. 257 
 
 Georo-es came to see Madame de Villemont — 
 
 o 
 
 Louisa was in her own room, busied sorting 
 books and music — what she meant to take, and 
 what to leave behind. Marguerite was very 
 much agitated when she first came in — breath- 
 less and unable to speak. Madame de Yillemont, 
 taken by surprise, was embarrassed also. 
 
 Marguerite was the first to begin the conver- 
 sation, — 
 
 " So it is true that you are going away." 
 " And it is also true that I am sorry to go. 
 Marguerite." 
 
 " When do you leave, madame ? " 
 "Not till the middle of November; there is a 
 good deal of preparation necessary — a good many 
 things to settle." 
 
 " I am glad you are not going sooner ; I have 
 come with a petition — one that I do not think you 
 will refuse." 
 
 " I would not deny you anything in my power 
 to grant you, dear." 
 
 First, will you tell me about M. Gastineau ? " 
 What is it you wish to know ? " asked Louisa. 
 VOL. III. 56 
 
 et 
 
 (( 
 
258 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 *•' You were very old friends, were you not ? '* 
 
 and Marguerite looked Louisa full in the face. 
 
 Louisa sat thoughtful for a few minutes, then 
 
 she said, — 
 
 " Yes, it is right you should understand it all : I 
 
 was a very little cliild when we first saw one another; 
 
 liis father and mother lived in the same house as we 
 
 did ; his father taught me French, and that brought 
 
 Gustavo and me together as playfellows. At 
 
 that time we loved one another very dearly : his 
 
 father was killed by the explosion of Fieschi's 
 
 machine, and his mother fell into great distress. 
 
 They all left Paris, and so did we, and we never 
 
 met or heard of one another till five years later — 
 
 when I was fourteen. It was in Switzerland ; my 
 
 mother, by chance, took the house next to that of 
 
 Gustavo's uncle. I was very glad to see Gustave 
 
 again, and I was very sorry for him ; he was in a 
 
 bookseller's shop, working hard to save money out 
 
 of his salary to enable him to return to Paris. I 
 
 saw him very often, and he asked me to teach him 
 
 English, that he might get better paid, and I did, 
 
 and that made us more companions than ever."' 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFFERING. 259 
 
 Here Louisa stopped — lier colour rose, and her 
 breath came short ; Marguerite remained perfectly 
 still, with her eyes riveted on Louisa. 
 
 " I believe I loved Gustave with the same love 
 I had had for him as a child ; I never thought of 
 any other kind of caring ; but he was older, and 
 he loved me differently ; his cousin Claire used to 
 joke me and tease me about him, but I tried not 
 to believe her. He used to tell me of his plans^ 
 and how he was already writing ; he said one day 
 that it was all for me, and that he could die for 
 me. I was very sorry ; I had an affection for 
 him, though he wdll never believe that now." 
 Louisa's voice broke. " Oh ! Marguerite, I was 
 a foolish, untaught girl, allowed to run about 
 wild ; I couldn't bear to see Gustave unhappy, 
 so I promised him in secret to wait three years 
 before I married, I said this to comfort him — 
 only to satisfy him, and prevent his looldng as if 
 he were going to kill himself; and then we came 
 to Paris, and so did he ; and now here is the 
 mean part of my conduct: though I knew he 
 was of more real worth than half the people 
 
 5G— 2 
 
260 ONCE AXD AGAIN. 
 
 I saw, I was ashamed of him — ashamed of his 
 dress, ashamed of his ugliness. I ought to have 
 gloried in his courage, in his perseverance, in his 
 self-denial. I was glad, yes, glad, to do as my 
 mother bid me, and break my promise to him. 
 I did it unkiadly, and he has never forgiven 
 me." 
 
 Marguerite exclaimed, — 
 
 *^ Why should he have begged you to ask me 
 to marry him ? " 
 
 " Margaerite, dear," said Louisa, " all that he 
 has of good is his own ; if he has shown unfor- 
 giveness to me, I deserved it. Make allowances, 
 dear, for his harsh manner: he has suffered much, 
 been soured and embittered by me. You will be 
 patient and kind, dear, for my sake : you love me, 
 Marguerite, don't you ? " 
 
 Marguerite covered her face — she wept, but she 
 did not say yes. 
 
 " I love you. Marguerite ; for the sake of the 
 love I bear you, bo patient with him ; he would 
 have been happy and good but for me. I taught 
 him to despise women; teach him, my darling, 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFFERING. 261 
 
 what a good woman is ? " There was an angelic 
 smile on Louisa's face as she said these last 
 words. 
 
 Marguerite leaned forward and kissed Madame 
 de Villemont on the mouth ; when she had first 
 come in, she had barely allowed her friend's lips 
 to touch her cheek. 
 
 Louisa clasped Marguerite in her arms, and 
 then they both began to cry and call each other 
 by tender names. 
 
 "You are very thin, Marguerite," said Louisa, 
 laying her hand on Marguerite's shoulders. 
 
 " I am quite well," returned Marguerite, hastily. 
 " Madame de Yillemont, I have come to ask you 
 to go with me to the Mairie the day I am 
 married ? " 
 
 Louisa hesitated. 
 
 " M. Gastineau mi^ht not like it." 
 
 " I beg it as the greatest favour ; if he loves me, 
 why should he mind your being present ? " Mar- 
 guerite spoke with the sudden heat of one whose 
 nervous system is too irritable to allow of her 
 bearinfp contradiction. 
 
262 ONCE AND AGAIX. 
 
 Louisa's face lighted up with the same sweet 
 smile which had touched ^larcuerite's heart a 
 few minutes back. 
 
 " I promise," she said. " Are 3'ou to be mar- 
 ried in church the same morning you go to the 
 Mairie ? " 
 
 " No/' was the curt reply. 
 
 " And when is it to be ? " asked Louisa. 
 
 *^ I will let you know a day or two before — 
 £2;ood-by." 
 
 "I hope I shall often see you now, Marguerite." 
 
 Marguerite shook her head. 
 
 *' I Avould rather not ; I do love you, and you 
 must not imao-ine I have any unkind feelinor 
 to you, Madame de Yillemont, but indeed, it is 
 better for me that we do not meet till that day ! " 
 Marguerite was trembling with excitement. 
 " Don't be angry with me ! " 
 
 " No, indeed, I am not in the least angry ; I 
 have a keepsake for you. Marguerite." 
 
 " Not to-da}', not to-day." Marguerite stooped 
 and kissed Louisa's hand. 
 
 As she went away, iNL\dame de Villemont 
 
MARGARET'S VOTIVE OFEERING. 2G3 
 
 thought, " Poor child ! she is jealous of me, of 
 me — women's hearts are stran<2;e thino;s, ill to 
 satisfy, craving for more, even in the full bloom 
 of love ! " 
 
264 ONCE AND AGiVIX. 
 
 CHAPTER XYL 
 
 THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 
 
 It was on the evenin^j of the 28th of November 
 that Louisa received a line from Marguerite, — 
 " The hour is ten to-morrow at the Mairie." 
 To say that Louisa was not ao-itated would be 
 to exasperate ; she had been schooHno: herself for 
 the occasion ever since she had yielded to I\Iar- 
 guerite's entreat}- ; nevertheless, she had now a 
 momentary reaction — she was indignant that this 
 trial should be forced on her ; recollections of her 
 own repentance and love and expiation made her 
 heart full. It was with difficulty that she brought 
 herself to write in answer, — 
 
 " I will be punctual," and then she had a sort 
 
THE CIVIL MAERIAGE. 265 
 
 of pleasure in the anticipation of draining to the 
 dregs the bitter cup. 
 
 She spoke of Marguerite's request to Mrs. 
 Templar and M. de Blacourt with perfect self- 
 possession. 
 
 " What impudence ! " exclaimed the former. 
 
 M. de Blacourt waited to hear how Louisa had 
 decided. 
 
 " Of course I have agreed to go/' continued 
 she ; " I don't ask you to accompany me," turn- 
 ing to the marquis. " I should even decline your 
 escort," she went on ; " there is no cogent reason 
 why you should give your countenance to M. Gas- 
 tineau on the day of his marriage, and it might 
 even seem a slight to poor M. de Pressy's 
 memory ! " 
 
 " I can see no more cause for your than for my 
 going," returned M. de Blacourt. 
 
 " Marguerite made me promise. I should not 
 like it to be said that I was afraid to go." 
 
 " Very unlikely that Mdlle. Marguerite or her 
 aunt should say anything unkind of you." 
 
 " Fioretta would certainly not spare me." 
 
2(jG once and again. 
 
 " I warned you, long ago, against that girl," 
 said Mrs. Templar. " I always told you to keep 
 clear of her." 
 
 " I have been too fond of having my own way," 
 replied Louisa, gently. 
 
 " It's very well to say so, but I doubt whether 
 you think as you speak. Don't go near those 
 people to-morrow." 
 
 " I promised Marguerite." 
 
 " I thought so ; catch you without a reason for 
 doing as you please. And you mean to go alone ? 
 How do you know but that you may be in- 
 sulted ? " 
 
 " M. de Lantry will be there, he will look 
 after me. 
 
 " He's going too, is he ? a pretty proof of his 
 friendship for you ! " 
 
 " He goes, mamma, in his professional capa- 
 
 city." 
 
 " You really do not wish me to accompany 
 you ? " asked the marquis. 
 " Decidedly no." 
 " And what are you going to wear ? " inquired 
 
THE CIVIL MAREIAGE. 267 
 
 Mrs. Templar. " Don't be sillj, putting on some- 
 thing simple, by way of not outshining the others. 
 You are full of that sort of sentimental nonsense, 
 and much good it has done you. A handsome 
 dress always produces its effect." 
 
 *' You shall choose what I wear yourself, 
 mamma." 
 
 " Oh, yes : now we have got our own way, we 
 can be all that is yielding. You must go in your 
 own carriage, I insist on that ; ring the bell, and 
 give orders that it shall be properly cleaned, and 
 desire Jacquot to make himself as smart as he 
 can. The idea of your not allowing him to wear 
 livery, not even a cockade! — another of your 
 ridiculous freaks, as if you or any one else can 
 make folks equal ; there are ranks and degrees in 
 heaven, and nothing can prevent servants from 
 being servants." 
 
 Louisa was only too thankful that her mother's 
 thoughts should run on the carriage and on her 
 dress. 
 
 The following morning was as beautiful a 
 morning as one could wish for a wedding-day. 
 
2G8 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 The weather was more hke that of opening spring 
 than of dying autumn. The variegated leaves 
 still on the trees glittering in the sun liad a false 
 air of youth ; a soft south wind was blowing, and 
 an early shower had moistened the earth, from 
 which arose a grateful aromatic perfume. 
 
 Louisa was dressed accordino; to her mother's 
 taste in a rich dark blue silk, which enhanced the 
 beauty of her clear fair complexion — her inward 
 flutter sent a delicate flush to her cheeks, which 
 brightened her eyes — her bonnet was a structure 
 of gauze from Paris, that did not hide her pretty 
 rebellious curls. It was a study to watch Mrs. 
 Templar as she presided over the adorning of her 
 daughter. If Louisa had been the bride herself, 
 her mother could not have been more anxious. 
 When Louisa turned to her and said, " Shall I do, 
 mamma ? " pride, admiration, triumph, all appeared 
 on the old lady's strongly marked fiice. 
 
 " Yes, you'll do," she said, slowly. " There's 
 rather a difference between you and that moon- 
 faced Marguerite ; but ' comparisons are odorous,' 
 as Mrs. INIalaprop says. Oh ! what a fool you 
 
THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 269 
 
 have been, Louisa, but it's no use lamenting, — 
 what can't be cured must be endured — go and 
 show yourself to M. de Blacourt, but don't go 
 away till I have seen you again ; there's plenty 
 of time." 
 
 To Louisa's dismay and astonishment, Mrs. 
 Templar joined her in less than ten minutes, with 
 her cloak and bonnet on. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, I am going to see the play 
 played out. I have no idea of trusting you in such 
 company without me; you look at my dress — I 
 am well enough for Gustavo Gastineau ; he does 
 not expect the honour I am about to do him. 
 Come, come along," and Mrs. Templar tripped 
 lightly down the stairs. 
 
 " It can't be helped," said M. de Blacourt, half 
 laughing ; " perhaps it is better that she should 
 accompany you." 
 
 The hired carriage conveying the bride and her 
 uncle and aunt was just passing as Madame de 
 Villemont's coupe reached the top of the street. 
 Mrs. Templar put her head out of the window 
 and nodded, and waved her hand gaily. Further 
 
270 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 on they came up with the pastor and Fioretta on 
 foot ; Mrs. Templar again went througli the same 
 dumb show of pleasure. When she drew her 
 head in, she laughed that painful hysterical giggle 
 which always made Louisa shiver. 
 
 ^' What a surprise it wdll be to the bonny bride- 
 groom to see me, eh, Louisa ? I am one of his 
 oldest friends — his friend, when he had not a shoe 
 to his foot — I suppose he has fine varnished boots 
 now, hke a gentleman ? " 
 
 '' I suppose so," replied Louisa, scarcely 
 knowing what she said. 
 
 " There's a proverb in my country," went on 
 Mrs. Templar, " that you can't make a race- 
 horse out of a cart-horse, stable him and groom 
 him and train him ever so well." 
 
 '^ Mamma, you will not say anything unkind at 
 the Mairie, for Marguerite's sake; it would seem 
 a sort of treacheiy in me." 
 
 " My dear, I am unburdening my mind to you. 
 As for Gustavo Gastineau, my presence will be 
 worth volumes of speeches to him." 
 
 The carriage stopped, and Mrs. Templar could 
 
THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 271 
 
 see Marguerite entering the Mairie in a plain 
 straw bonnet and her little checked blue silk dress. 
 
 " It's only to be the civil marriage to-day," said 
 Mrs. Templar. " There was no occasion for 
 Marc de Lantry to come bustling here, and with 
 that busybody Fioretta." 
 
 Marc at this instant came up and handed out 
 the ladies from Clairefonds. 
 
 " How wonderfully got up we are," whispered 
 Fioretta to Louisa. "You are determined to 
 outshine the bride. "What could have brought 
 your mother ? " 
 
 "Her own wish." A quick glance informed 
 Louisa that Gustavo was present, between two 
 gentlemen, evidently strangers and with the stamp 
 of Paris on them. He seemed startled at seeincr 
 her. She had taken it for granted that he would 
 have known of Marguerite's invitation to her to be 
 present ; then Louisa saw, as women see, without 
 looking, that his two friends spoke to Gustave 
 manifestly about her, for the eyes of all tluree 
 were fixed on her. 
 
 Gustave was pale and thin ; an air of suffering 
 
272 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 pervaded his whole appearance. Louisa was 
 sorry for him. 
 
 The friendliness of the mairc to the company 
 assembled, froze into the stiflfest politeness, when 
 he had to address the bridegroom. 
 
 Louisa was sorry for him again. 
 
 At last the official ceremony commenced. 
 
 Gustave and Marguerite advanced to the table 
 before which the maire had taken his seat. M. le 
 Maire then commenced reading aloud that portion 
 of the Code Napoleon, relating to the duties 
 which the law imposes on husbands towards 
 wives and on wives towards husbands. That 
 concluded, he said, — 
 
 " M. Gustave Gastineau, native of the canton of 
 Geneva, furnished with the consent of his mother, 
 his sole surviving parent, having had his banns of 
 marriage duly published at the parish church of 
 Notre Dame in this town, and also a notice in 
 writing of his intentions of marriage, duly affixed 
 to the walls of this Mairie, is now about to contract 
 a marriao-e with Mdlle. Marojuerite Celestine 
 St. Georges." 
 
THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 273 
 
 The maire then turning to Gustave Gastineau, 
 said, — 
 
 " Will you take this woman. Marguerite 
 Celestine St Georges, for your wife?" 
 
 Gustave answered in a strong voice, *^ I 
 win." 
 
 Addressing Marguerite, the maire put the 
 question to her, — 
 
 " Will you. Marguerite Celestine St. Georges, 
 take this man, Gustave Gastineau, for vour 
 husband ? " 
 
 Marguerite's breath came loud and hard, she 
 rubbed her hands on one another, shifted her feet, 
 looked down, then suddenly raising her eyes to 
 the magistrate's face, she distinctly said, "No," 
 and stood like one transfixed. 
 
 For an instant there was a profound silence ; 
 you might, as the saying is, have heard a pin drop. 
 Immediately after followed a buzz of agitated 
 voices: Mdlle. St. Georges and the colonel were 
 vehemently questioning and expostulating with 
 Marguerite. 
 
 "The biter bit," came from Mrs. Templar 
 VOL, III. 67 
 
274 ONCE AND AGAO. 
 
 in English, luckily only understood by Louisa, 
 perhaps by Gustave, but he showed no sign of 
 havino; heard the comment. 
 
 He began, " Monsieur le Maire " — every tongue 
 was hushed — " Monsieur le Maire, and ladies and 
 gentlemen, there is no occasion to detain you 
 here longer. I respect Mdlle. Marguerite St. 
 Georges' decision." 
 
 He bowed to all the party. He stood alone 
 like one deserted. His eye caught that of Louisa ; 
 she went up to him and held out her liand to him. 
 He grasped it tightly, saying, — 
 
 " You did not know her intention." 
 
 " On my word, I did not." 
 
 " I deserve it," he said, gently. 
 
 She was very sorry for him ; her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 *' God bless vou, Madame de Villemont." And 
 he went out by himself. His departure was the 
 signal for the rest of the party to disperse. 
 
 Mrs. Templar described the whole scene with 
 infinite relish to M. de Blacourt ; she looked and 
 
THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 275 
 
 spoke more like herself than she had done for 
 many a day. She wound up thus, — 
 
 "I am heartily glad of it; it's poetical justice, 
 whatever that may be. The recollection will 
 soothe the rest of my life. It turned my blood to 
 see that villain prospering in everything." 
 
 "Poetical justice, like all justice, my dear 
 madame, does not, in striking the unjust, spare 
 the just." 
 
 " He is punished, that's suflScient for me," said 
 Mrs. Templar. "It is curious, M. de Blacourt, 
 but it is a fact I can verify, whoever injures me 
 comes to evil." 
 
 M. de Blacourt avoided any direct reply to 
 this assertion ; Mrs. Templar, he saw, was relapsing 
 into her usual moody flightiness. 
 
 "What was Marguerite's reason for making her 
 refusal so public ? " asked the marquis of Louisa. 
 
 "That does not concern us," interrupted ]\Irs. 
 Templar; " the result was all that could be wished." 
 
 M. de Blacourt's question was one very generally 
 put : — Why had Marguerite chosen to make her 
 refusal so insultingly public ? 
 
 57—2 
 
276 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 On tlie afternoon of the very day that had been 
 intended for her marriage, Marguerite retired to 
 the Convent of the Dames Dominicaines, and from 
 thence sent a message to Madame de Yillemont, 
 beo-rrinor to see her. Maro-uerite was in a hioih state 
 of excitement, her whole appearance had under- 
 gone a sudden change ; the red and white, once so 
 cunningly mingled in her young face, was gone — 
 where the hot feverish flush was not, the skin had a 
 yellow tint. There was an almost defiant expression 
 in Marguerite's eyes, ■which were so sunken as to 
 make her forehead look more prominent than ever. 
 
 " I am in disgrace witli everybody," she began. 
 " But I don't regret, I glory in what I have done. 
 They will get tired in time of railing at me. His 
 own play put it in my head how to turn the tables 
 on him, I caught him in his own trap. iNIy aunt 
 says I have broken her heart ; I wish mine would 
 break as easily; but it won't. I shall have to 
 live and sorrow and sorrow, and all the sorrow in 
 the world will not brino; him back to life." 
 
 '^ Marguerite, my poor child, what are you 
 savins;?" 
 
THE CIVIL MAKRLVGE. 277 
 
 " You don't know, then, why I hate M. Gasti- 
 neau ? why I would rather have killed myself than 
 marry him ? " Marguerite spread her hands over 
 her face, and tears trickled through her fingers. 
 " He's dead ! he's dead ! why need I be ashamed 
 now — he can never know — never know." 
 
 " Poor Marguerite ! I never guessed," said 
 Madame de Villemont, on whom a new light 
 dawned. 
 
 " How should you or any one hav e guessed ? " 
 then speaking in a sort of ecstasy, '* He was so 
 high above me — high as the angels above common 
 men, and yet so gentle, as if he felt every one to 
 be his equal ; so kind to all humble, weak things, 
 and he loved you, Madame de Villemont, and 
 
 you — you could slight him for Ah ! and he 
 
 died for you — you know he did — and you only 
 felt for^ his murderer. I pity you — I do," and 
 Marguerite gave a look of contempt at Louisa. 
 
 " You saw him so seldom," said Louisa, bewil- 
 dered by the girl's passion and anger. 
 
 " Seen him seldom — how do you know ? Once 
 we lived next door to him, when his mother lived 
 
278 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 here ; we have played together, and he protected 
 me because I was the smallest of all ; he was the 
 champion of the little ones, and he would sit telling 
 
 us stories always of some one brave and good 
 
 and now he's dead." 
 
 "Marguerite, you should never have accepted 
 M. Gastineau." 
 
 " Shouldn't I ? Well, I never meant to marry 
 him after he had committed murder. I threw his 
 betrothal ring into the grave, but he didn't know — 
 ah ! you wonder I should have accepted M. Gastineau, 
 you forget what you said about French marriages — 
 matters of business, like taking a new house — I 
 obeyed my aunt, and I am so glad that I did. I was 
 half mad when they told me M. Gastineau was 
 acquitted ; it seemed there was no punishment 
 for him; but I, the poor girl he meant to use 
 as a rod for you — the poor simpleton, he thought 
 he might do as he liked w^ith — she managed to 
 punish him." 
 
 " Marguerite, Marguerite, revenge leaves a 
 bitter taste in the mouth." 
 
 " Death is something w^orse. Wish me good-by. 
 
THE CIVIL MARRIAGE. 279 
 
 Madame cle Villemont. I don't know why I 
 asked to see you; you make my heart burn. 
 I ought to love you for all your goodness to me., 
 but I can love nothmg. Alas ! alas ! I care for 
 nothing, believe in nothing, but that there is a 
 blind chance — say good-by to me," and she threw 
 herself on Louisa's neck, holding her in a close 
 embrace. 
 
2S0 OXCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth, 
 And nature smiles again. 
 
 It was the day before they were to leaA-e Clau'e- 
 fonds, and Louisa and M. de Blacourt were walking 
 up and down the Charmille. The purple flowers of 
 the clematis had long since vanished^ the leaves 
 of the hornbeam hedge strewed tlie path, the 
 few still flutterino; on the branches were withered 
 and lifeless. Their conversation had been about 
 Marguerite. 
 
 " Her friends ought to be reconciled to her," 
 said Louisa ; " otherwise, they may drive her 
 into some other rash step." 
 
 " Luckily," said M. de Blacourt, " young ladies 
 cannot make themselves nuns now-a-days, in the 
 first pain of a love disappointment." 
 
CONCLUSION. 281 
 
 " I used to think convents worse than prisons," 
 observed Louisa. " I have altered my opinion ; 
 it is not a bad idea to provide hospitals for 
 invalid souls and hearts^ as well as for sick 
 bodies." 
 
 "My dear, you would fret yourself to death 
 in six months, behind a grating and a black 
 veil." 
 
 "I don't know. I have an immense longing 
 for repose, for quiet monotony. I feel just like 
 a collapsed india-rubber ball." 
 
 In spite of her smile, Louisa looked pale 
 and sad. 
 
 " At this moment, perhaps," said M. de 
 Blacourt. " These dead-looking branches, Louisa, 
 will put forth buds and blossoms next spring ; all 
 that is so dreary now will be gay and full of 
 animation then ; birds will sing, and flowers will 
 perfume the air, this biting wind will be a soft 
 zephyr. Sorrow and regret are like winter, only 
 for a time." 
 
 "Why, why has everything gone against mc 
 all my life ? " exclaimed Louisa, passionately. 
 
282 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 ^' What radical fault is there in me, which has 
 made all my good gifts null and void ? " 
 
 *^ What the ancients called fate, the moderns 
 name law, my dear. Your bringing up made 
 you what you are. The consequences of mistakes 
 fall not only on the person who makes them, 
 but also on those who have suffered from 
 the blunders. You have plenty of vigour of 
 mind, use it to control circumstances; that's 
 the difference between strength and w^eakness. 
 Struggle, action, work, is the true meaning of 
 life." 
 
 '^ I cannot understand it — I cannot make it out 
 — why, if it is a necessit}^ that man should live in 
 a struggle, why is he here at all." 
 
 " If this earth were the universe the question 
 would be more puzzling, but, my dear, are you 
 growing sceptical ? " 
 
 " I don't know what I am ^rowinfr — I do see 
 that theory and practice disagree. All the striving 
 I have come in contact with, has been to have 
 a box on four wheels to drive in, and to be better 
 lodged than your neighbour. To me," went on 
 
CONCLUSION. 283 
 
 Louisa, impatiently, "the world seems growing 
 more silly every day. Where are there men like 
 the prophets of old, or the women like the 
 heroines of the Bible ? " 
 
 "They were in the minority then, as great 
 minds always will be," answered M. de Blacourt. 
 " They wrote and preached against the follies of 
 the day, as our great men do now ; but, my dear, 
 I believe we cannot go further in this line of 
 argument for want of the wings you were longing 
 for the other day. You were wiser at eight years 
 old. All our wisdom comes to what I heard you 
 say then. You had been to church in the 
 morning, and I heard you talking to yourself. 
 ' God's eye here in this room on me, and in the 
 next room watching Marie and Denis, watching 
 the ships on the sea and watching everybody all 
 over the world — I can't understand it — bah! I 
 shall know all about it by-and-by, when I go to 
 God.' Now, my dear, we had better return to 
 the house ; it is getting damp.' " 
 
 " You are very, very kind and patient with 
 
284 ONCE AND AGAIN. 
 
 me," said Louisa, and looking up at M. de 
 Blacourt, she was struck by his worn appearance. 
 There came over her that dread which seizes 
 on us, when we catch on some beloved face 
 the fatal shadow of the angel Azrael. It 
 appears mercifully at intervals, to warn us 
 to show love and duty while it is yet in our 
 power. 
 
 " There is one most precious thing in the world, 
 and that is a true friend," said Louisa, putting 
 her arm within M. de Blacourt's. " Promise, 
 promise that we shall never be separated. Where 
 you go, there I must go also." 
 
 " Not cured of rash promises, Louisa ? " 
 "This one I will keep joyfully and truth- 
 fully." 
 
 After this date Louisa passed out of the realms 
 of fiction into those of reality. 
 
 She is now a happy woman ; and here I 
 
CONCLUSION. 285 
 
 will make an end in tlie words of an old 
 writer, — 
 
 " And if I have done well, and as is fitting 
 the story, it Is that which I desired : but if 
 slenderly and meanly, it is that which I could 
 attain unto." 
 
 TEE END. 
 
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