The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 57

"I do not doubt it, my child; but you have promised me that you will go; go then, amuse yourself with your companions; dance, frolic, receive the homage which is your due. I am not a miser who hides his treasure, I wish that my diamond should s.h.i.+ne for all eyes; your triumphs are mine, and your gaiety is the joy of my life."

"My father, I am never gay except by your side."

The old man smiled, not without a little incredulity, but the young girl's clear eyes were fixed on him with a touching expression of veneration and filial love. Eve repeated with affecting candor that the watch by her grandfather's side was to her a thousand times preferable to the noisy pleasures of the world; she grew animated, and, drawing yet nearer, she said:

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"When I have pa.s.sed the evening with you, I return joyously to my room, my heart full of n.o.ble thoughts. Often you have recounted to us some incidents of your life, and I am proud of being your child; I wish for power to imitate your generous example; finally, I find an inexpressible charm in your recollections and in your narratives. If you have spoken to me of my father and my mother, whom I have never known, I am still happy; my melancholy is sweet; I represent to myself as my guardian angels those whom your words make me love more every day."

The Marquis de La Tour-d'Adam felt himself touched; the young girl's governess had seated herself. Eve added in a less firm tone:

"On the contrary, when I return from a ball, I feel an indefinable sentiment of void and weariness; I do not know what it is that I want, I am sad, discontented with myself."

"Childishness!" interrupted the old gentleman. "Off with us! A little thoughtlessness and folly, I insist upon it! One is discontented with oneself only when one has failed in some duty; you are good, submissive, pious, charitable."

Eve blushed slightly, and while her grandfather was continuing his eulogy she prepared him a cup of tea, drew the stool near, arranged the cus.h.i.+on on which he rested his head, then, going to the piano, she played an old battle air of which he was very fond.

Meanwhile the marquis addressed the governess.

"My cousin," he said (Madame du Castellet was a distant relative of the Tour-d'Adams), "combat these tendencies, I implore you; pleasures and distractions, they are the remedy! I do not understand why this ball should sadden our darling Eve, why meeting her friends and her partners should make her melancholy. Eve does not know how to be untruthful, she hides nothing from us; but she is ignorant herself why she suffers. Discover this secret, I implore you, that she may be happy."

"Eve's happiness is my only desire," replied the governess. "You know that I love her as my own daughter. I never contradict her; indeed, she never desires anything that is not praiseworthy. She plans to do good with an admirable perseverance and delicacy."

The old marquis at this moment recognized the martial air which Eve was playing for him; he was deeply affected:

"She forgets nothing," he murmured.

Then noticing the flowers the young girl wore:

"Always jasmine," he said to the governess.

"She forgets nothing," said Madame du Castellet, in her turn.

"It is then impossible to overcome the pride of those unfortunate Mirefonts?" replied the marquis.

"My nephew, Gaston, cannot get anything accepted," respondent the governess; "but we will save them in spite of themselves."

"Heaven preserve me," said the marquis immediately, "from blaming their susceptibility; unfortunately, the secret means which Eve has so long employed scarcely suffice; it is necessary to do more."

"Gaston will aid us, I imagine," replied the governess in a low voice; "but hus.h.!.+ my pupil will not pardon me if I betray her secrets."

Eve returned from the piano; the marquis and the governess exchanged a glance of prudent intelligence.

"Off with us, young lady, to the ball, to the ball, the carriage is waiting!" said the old gentleman gaily, kissing the young girl's forehead.

Madame du Castellet dragged off Eve; the marquis, left alone, thought tenderly of his dear grandchild, the bouquet of jasmine, the unfortunate Mirefont family, of all that Eve had said or done with her habitual grace, while the military march she had played still resounded in his heart.

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"The n.o.ble child!" he murmured; "they counselled me to be severe; how could I be? I have been indulgent; I have repressed nothing, spoiled nothing; her generous nature has freely developed itself; she has made herself blessed even by those who do not know her. Happy, yes, happy, will he be who shall be her husband."

The few words exchanged between the marquis and Eve's governess have shown us that for some time, at least, the secret of one of the young girl's good actions had been revealed to her grandfather. The old gentleman would have thought little enough of the coiffures chosen by Eve, or of her taste for such or such a flower; but Madame du Castellet had been much surprised one day by her pupil's predilection for bouquets and wreaths of jasmine. Questions followed each other; Eve evaded them for a long time; the governess insisted. She blamed the girl's extravagance, which did not cease to expend considerable sums for the same flowers.

"I wish to know if this caprice has anything reasonable in it?" she said finally, with firmness, even at the risk of displeasing the young heiress.

Eve blushed; then in a suppliant tone--

"Be at least discreet," she said. "It is the matter of an honorable family suddenly fallen into extreme poverty, whose only resource is the sale of jasmine. People do not buy it, so it is that I buy so much."

"But still," said Madame du Castellet, "without doubt you know the name of the family."

"No, cousin. Fearing to wound worthy people, I have not asked it. Only my artificial-flower seller told me that this jasmine was the work of the only child of a poor knight of St. Louis, completely ruined by the last revolution, and struck with incurable infirmities. His wife can only take care of him and wait on him. I was much affected by the story, and above all by the courage shown by this young girl, who obtained a living for her father and mother by her work. I promised often to buy jasmine on condition that my name should never be mentioned; do not be surprised, cousin, that I keep my promise."

Madame du Castellet embraced Eve with fervor. But soon going to the source, she knew that the family suffering from so many misfortunes was that of the Mirefonts. The marquis was instructed. Various offers of a.s.sistance were made, but proudly refused.

Eve continued to adorn herself with jasmine and to make liberal presents of it to all her friends, which Clarisse Dufresnois pleasantly laughed at.

"Do you love jasmine?" she said, smiling. "Apply to Eve. For a lottery, a vase or a crown of jasmine; for a present, jasmine; for a head-dress, jasmine. Madeline, who has penetrated into the delicious boudoir of Mademoiselle de La Tour-d'Adam, saw only jasmine on every side. Has she not given some to you also?"

"Eve has given me a charming bunch," said Leonore. "It was a master-piece of its kind; a flower was never more perfectly imitated."

n.o.body listened to Leonore.

"Jasmine is, then, Eve's adoration?" said Albertine.

"Perhaps," suggested Suzanne, "it is the emblem of a deep sentiment, some memory."

"In any case, it is a pa.s.sion, a mania."

"I do not know what to imagine," said Leonore; "but I would rather believe it a work of charity."

"You hear Leonore, young ladies," cried Clarisse; "would it still be wicked to find this abuse of jasmine monotonous?"

Louise de Mirefont had started several times, for she was the unknown artist whose filial devotion created the bouquets and wreaths which Eve had not ceased to buy.

For the second time in her life Louise penetrated into the drawing-room of the Countess de Peyrolles, where she had been presented the {372} preceding winter by Mlle. de Rouvray, an old friend of her mother, and companion to the Countess. At the reiterated requests of Mlle. de Rouvray, Louise's parents consented that their daughter should go among the society in which her birth and education called her to live, had not her entire want of fortune kept her away.

At the time of that single party, which occupied a large place in the young girl's memory, she had remarked one of her masterpieces over the brow of Eve de La Tour-d'Adam. She had blushed, not without an innocent joy.

How different was her feeling now! Every mocking shaft of Clarisse wounded her, the smiles of the other girls put her to torture; and when Leonore, in her indulgent observations, which had consoled her a little, innocently p.r.o.nounced the word charity, she grew pale and felt humbled. Pride brought to her eyes two tears, which vexation dried on her eyelashes.

"Mlle. de La Tour-d'Adam has done me an act of charity," she thought with a sort of wrath. "We have a disguised alms, and M. Gaston du Castellet has failed in all his promises."

Such were, we are obliged to avow it, Louise de Mirefont's first thoughts; pride rendered her unjust and ungrateful. Alas! as we have been told many times, first thoughts in our weak nature are not always the best. An angry suspicion, moreover, augmented the girl's indignation.

The nephew of Eve's governess, Gaston du Castellet, introduced into the family of Mirefont by Mlle. de Rouvray, had he, in an excess of zeal, revealed the secret of a distress courageously concealed for more than four years? Gaston was, himself, in a position of fortune more than mediocre, he lived honorably, but in a very modest office.

He had been received with a n.o.ble simplicity; his tact, his delicacy, rendered him worthy of such a reception, and he had also conquered the good graces of M. and Mme, de Mirefont.

Louise, during her long is hours of work, often surprised herself thinking of the amiable qualities, the distinction, the benevolence, of Gaston du Castellet. While with a light hand she cut out or adjusted the green leaves or white flowers on their stem, she could not forbid herself to dream of the prudent attentions which Gaston showed her. Together with her fairy fingers, her imagination, or rather her heart, built a frail edifice of green leaves, hope, and white flowers, like the innocence of her love. A word, a glance, a smile of Gaston's, some mark of solicitude for her venerable parents, a generous word p.r.o.nounced with feeling, received with eagerness, plunged her in long and sweet reveries. Her floral task was generally finished before her dream.