Romance, which gives itself the airs of unfettered liberty, has
nevertheless its laws, and it was contrary to these laws that Leon
should have been in love with the girl who brought him such a fortune as
put him at once beyond the reach of embarrassment. No one, not even his
mother, believed it; if she had, it is doubtful whether she could have
put up with Nathalie at all. She assured herself that the marriage
belonged to the new developments of prudence in Leon, a praiseworthy
continuation of his efforts to redeem the estate; and while she
appreciated the sacrifice he had made, she never ceased to pity him for
having been obliged to make it. Nothing which he could say or do
succeeded in convincing her or his sisters as to what had been his real
motive--perhaps no one in the world credited it except Nathalie herself.
It was true, however, that he really loved her, and with the easy
carelessness of his nature managed to turn his back upon the past, to
stop his ears when he heard it calling after him, and to forget that it
has hands as well as voices. He had acknowledged to his father-in-law
that there was a debt on the estate of two hundred thousand francs. M.
Bourget closed his eyes and pursed his mouth.
"And this you propose to pay--how?"
"By instalments. My creditor does not press me."
"He must be a fool or a relation, then," announced the ex-builder, with
a loud laugh. "Perhaps both. Well, Monsieur de Beaudrillart, pressed
or not, we must get that stone off your neck, I suppose you have not
sent much by way of repayment."
"Five hundred francs." Leon spoke in a low voice.
"Ta ta! It will take a good many five hundred francs to repay two
hundred thousand," mocked M. Bourget.
The young man was silent.
"Well, I have said that it should be done, and I will be as good as my
word. No one has ever been able to say that I was worse. This sum
absolutely clears Poissy!"
"Absolutely."
"And there is but one debtor?"
"But one."
"Excuse me, Monsieur de Beaudrillart, but I am a man of business. Some
sort of bond, I imagine, exists? I should be glad to have a sight of
it."
To M. Bourget's stupefaction, Leon sprang to his feet in a rage.
"Monsieur, you doubt my word! You insult me! Do you suppose that I
will submit to dictation from any man, least of all from you! I have
told you the position of affairs, and if you do not choose to believe
me, let there be an end of everything."
"Softly, softly," said M. Bourget--to tell the truth, as much alarmed
as amazed--"it appears to me that if I am going to pay, the suggestion
was not unreasonable. Since, however, it offends you so mortally,
Monsieur de Beaudrillart, we will say no more about it." He added, with
a great sigh, "I suppose you fine gentlemen do not carry out your
affairs so methodically as we. The wonder to me is not that you so
often come to grief as that you ever escape shipwreck. To object to the
existence of a bond! However, as you will, as you will!"
Leon did not at once recover his usual good temper. He looked pale and
sat staring moodily at the ground. But, strange to say, what in one of
his own class would have excited M. Bourget's anger and suspicion, here
rather afforded him satisfaction than otherwise. The De Beaudrillarts
were of another race, these outbursts of pride belonged to their
history, their traditions, and, though he would have died sooner than
betray it, M. Bourget's feeling towards them comprised something of the
abject loyalty with which the working bee regards his queen. He
promised himself that Nathalie's money should be as safely secured as
the law permitted, but he, to whom the outgoing of a piece of ten sous
was a matter of consideration, by some curious contradiction gloried in
the carelessness which would disperse a fortune with as little heed as
if money were to be had for the picking up. Glancing at Leon he said,
tentatively:
"One may not even ask the name of the creditor?"
"I cannot give it," Leon answered, shortly.
"At any rate, when the money is paid you will show me the receipt?"
"Impossible."
M. Bourget judged it necessary to make a show of displeasure. He
frowned heavily.
"Allow me to say, Monsieur le baron, that you demand more confidence
than you display."
"Yes, that is true," said Leon, lightly, once more. "But if I give you
my word of honour that the money will be sent to the creditor, you will
be satisfied, will you not?"
M. Bourget was satisfied, whether he suffered himself to appear so or
not. The word of a De Beaudrillart had gained an enormous value in his
eyes. Yet Leon's next remark was sufficiently startling.
"If you are so good as to clear Poissy of debt when Nathalie enters it
as my wife, may I ask you to pay the sum into my banker's, so that I may
take it out in the form most convenient."
"A cheque would tell tales," muttered M. Bourget to himself.
"Decidedly, there is a mystery somewhere. However, when one is drawn
into an old family such as the De Beaudrillarts, one must accept
mysteries. The money will be paid. He gave me his word. For the rest,
I shall see that Nathalie is safe."
It will be perceived that anxiety for the marriage had brought M.
Bourget to the point of swallowing a great deal, but as regarded the
payment of the debt, Mme. de Beaudrillart also had her anxieties. As
soon as Leon and his wife were settled at Poissy, she sounded her son on
the subject, one day, immediately after the late breakfast, when
Nathalie had left the room to fetch her hat, and Felicie and Claire
obeyed a hint from their mother and followed.
"Until now," said Mme. de Beaudrillart, "I have not spoken of the
necessary business, but there is one point which should be settled at
once."
He laughed, and kissed her on each cheek.
"Only one! What luck!"
"Well, only one that presses: your debt to Monsieur de Cadanet."
"Ah!" He made a step towards the window, but came back. "That is
paid."
"Already!"
"The day after our wedding."
She looked at him admiringly. "Ah, you are a man of honour! Monsieur
de Cadanet cannot say that you have lost so much as a day. He must have
congratulated you?"
"He is not a man of words."
"Perhaps not; but a few on such an occasion would have done him no harm.
Do you mean to say that no felicitations came with his acknowledgment?"
"Not one."
"The bear! I really think from what you have told me he must have
changed very much--"
"Don't blame him, mother. His money saved Poissy," said Leon, quickly.
"Certainly. You need not tell me that. But what harm has it done him!
Principal and interest have both been repaid in full, and I do not
forget his indebtedness to your father. Say what you will, he has been
very boorish. And, Leon, though you did not give me his former
acknowledgment, it is quite necessary that this last should be placed in
safe keeping."
He was silent, and she looked at him uneasily. His short, abrupt
sentences, so different from his usual gay chatter, some change in his
face, disturbed her. She felt it her duty to press the point.
"It should be put into the iron safe with the other deeds. Come, Leon,
do not delay; let us see to it at once."
"I am going out with Nathalie."
Mme. de Beaudrillart frowned. "Nathalie! Surely Nathalie can wait!
You jest."
"No, mother, but you don't understand that I am indisposed for
business."
"If you have no better excuse, I must ask you to fetch the paper at
once." His allusion to his wife had angered her.
"I have my own boxes."
"They are not sufficiently secure for the acknowledgment of such a sum.
Consider. One day you may have to reckon with Monsieur de Cadanet's
heirs, who may not be so obliging as Monsieur de Cadanet."
Consider! As if this knowledge had not weighed upon him ever since that
autumn day. Not once had he ventured to Paris. Now at last he was
safe, and why not satisfy his mother? He turned to her gaily.
"Study a woman if you want to learn persistence. Well, mother, wait for
me, and if Nathalie comes, ask her to stroll towards the river, while
you and I make a pilgrimage to the strong-box."
If Mme. de Beaudrillart hoped to have feasted her eyes upon the paper,
she was mistaken. What her son brought and deposited in the safe was a
long blank envelope, securely scaled. She suggested in vain that
something on the cover should mark its contents.
"Unnecessary. You and I are both likely to remember."
"As to remembering, yes. But it seems foolish. What possible objection
can you have?"
"A whim."
Mme. de Beaudrillart remarked that a whim was unmethodical.
"Oh, I admit it. But as Monsieur Bourget is not likely ever to rummage
among these papers--"
"Heaven forbid!"
"Let us be unmethodical in peace. Besides, I have my reasons, and--
Nathalie is waiting. Don't you find her enchanting?"
"I think she has good sense."
"And Claire and Felicie? She is so anxious, poor child, to love you
all."
"In good time," said Mme. de Beaudrillart, coldly. "She has a great
deal to learn, and we must expect some mistakes, but perhaps by-and-by
she may take her position, and forget her little bourgeoise ways and
small economics."
He flushed. "We have had to adopt small economies ourselves, for that
matter, mother."
"Yes. Because they were necessary. With her it is because they are
natural. Still, as I said, she has good sense, and I do not despair."
"She is charming," murmured the young man, under his breath. He was
fully aware that prejudices against his wife existed in the house, but
troubled himself very little about them. In time, no doubt, they would
all shake in together. Meanwhile, he was quite able to shut his eyes to
disagreeables which did not actually affect him. Winter was over, and
heaven and earth had leaped into the radiance of spring. Poissy, with
its delicate colours, its fretted carvings, smiled at its owners through
a veil of fairy-like green. The debt was paid, husband and wife
wandered together by the river which ran full after heavy rains, care
had vanished, and the sun shone out again.
Nathalie, too, was happy, in spite of having many things to endure for
Leon's sake. It cannot be said that they came upon her unexpectedly,
for she had always dreaded Poissy, and all the De Beaudrillarts, except
Leon, as deeply as her father desired them. Weighed against Leon, she
decided that they were as nothing, but this was before she had tried
them, and with Love sitting heavily in one balance, it is next to
impossible fairly to adjust the opposite weights.
She had a noble character, and this meant a strong will, but Mme. de
Beaudrillart and her daughters--Claire, at any rate--had wills of iron.
How much and how little to yield became a perpetually fretting problem.
At first she carried her doubts to her husband, until she found that he
could give her nothing more satisfying than a laugh and a shrug.
"Dear, I know it, I know it, but what will you! My mother has always
been accustomed to rule. I often tell her she should have lived a
century or two earlier than these degenerate days; and as for Claire and
Felicie, they are exactly the same, only she has never allowed them the
opportunity to develop, so they are obliged to try their hands on other
people. Take my advice, and let them have their way. It will not hurt
us, and it will teach you to bless Heaven for having bestowed upon you a
husband whom you can twist round your little finger."
She shook her head.
"You know I don't want to twist you round my finger."
"But I am quite willing. Why not spend your energies that way, if my
mother will not consent to leave you any other department in which to
exercise them."
They were standing together in one of the deep windows of the chateau,
looking out upon a stately terrace, and a garden brilliant, as the
Poissy garden had not been for many years, with the rich colouring of
summer flowers. Her hand was in his, and she was silent while he
talked. But presently she gave a deep sigh, of which he demanded an
explanation. She smiled, and said:
"It is only wonder."
"Wonder at what!"
"At myself, at you, that we should be here together, and that I should
be your wife. I did not think so much about it at the time, but now it
seems as if I should never understand how either your mother or my
father consented. She has a horror of parvenues, and he--he--"
"Of the idle rich. But you are not so cruel as to call me idle!"
"No." She looked at him reflectively. "He said that once you were, but
that you had changed. What changed you, Leon?"
"Years and necessity," he replied, after a momentary pause. "So my
father told me. And I am sure that was what made him approve, for he
thought it showed great strength of character. He did indeed, and it
made me so proud." Leon winced. Naturally it was galling to M. de
Beaudrillart to hear of the approval of M. Bourget. She went on, her
head with its wealth of red-brown hair resting against his shoulder, her
eyes fixed on the big scarlet pomegranate which flamed on the terrace.
"But--there is one thing I want to say."
"And while you stay like this I am perfectly content to listen all day
long."
"Ah, but you must be serious."
"I am. Look at me."
She looked, and he kissed her. "Now, go on. That is only the
preamble."
"It is rather distracting when one wants to collect one's ideas," said
Nathalie, smiling, but shaking her head. "However, what I want to say
is that I hope you will let me help you in what you have to do."
"You are helping me now--to perfection."
"You know that is not what I mean. For one thing, I am really an
excellent house-keeper, for my father was very strict in his accounts,
and never permitted waste."
"Poor little economist!" said the young man, lightly smoothing her head.
"My Nathalie, are you aware that the colour of your hair is simply
adorable?"
"Now you are not attending."
"I am, indeed I am. Let me see; where were wet. Your father never
permitted waste. No. I can imagine Monsieur Bourget rather a severe
taskmaster."
"But it was exceedingly useful, and I was glad of it when I knew we were
to marry, for I said to myself that if I were not a grand lady, at least
I should know how to help you. No, no, Leon, listen! I can keep
accounts--only try me, you will not find me ten sous out by the end of
the month. And,"--she hesitated slightly--"if she would allow it, I am
certain I could spare Madame de Beaudrillart a great deal of trouble.
May I ask her?"
"Ask what you like and who you like, so long as you remember that you
belong first of all to me," he said, gaily.
"I hope that they will grow to endure me in time," she went on. "Of
course, I mustn't be unreasonable and expect everything to come all at
once, but--by-and-by. Do you know that it is your sister, Mademoiselle
Felicie--"
"Good heavens, Nathalie, don't call her mademoiselle, as if you were her
maid!"
She corrected herself shyly. "Felicie, then. It is Felicie whom I
dread the most."
"I should have fancied that Claire might have been especially alarming."
"Yes, only I understand her. It is what I expected. But Mad--Felicie
is so good and so devout, no nun could be more so, always working for
the Church, and she seemed so shocked when I said my father thought
ladies--religious ladies, you know--often made the poor pay towards
things which they did not understand."
"Did you actually tell Felicie that!"
"Yes, I did. Was I wrong?" she asked, anxiously. "But, Leon, it is
true, it is indeed! I can recollect a number of cases in which the poor
peasants fancied the most terrible things would happen unless they paid
money to avert them. You see, they are so ignorant, there is nothing
they will not believe if only you can frighten them. Of course, Felicie
does not know this, and perhaps I should not have told her!"
"Oh, as to that, it doesn't matter; it may do her good," he said,
amused. "Only of all things to say to Felicie! Did you also inform her
you thought they should be educated! She will put you down as a
heretic. I must tell Claire." Nathalie looked distressed.
"If you say that in such a tone, I am afraid that it was an
impertinence. Leon, indeed I did not dream of such a thing, only when
she asked me whether I had ever collected money for banners, and whether
I did not think it a great privilege to help the Church, I could not
answer in any other way, and yet tell the truth. Could I? No, don't
smile, because it is serious, and there is no one here of whom I can
venture to ask anything but you."
"Ah, don't make me your conscience, cherie! Or only do so when you
think your own means to be hard upon you. Why trouble your pretty head
in the matter! But if you must, I will let you into a very important
secret: simply that if you fret yourself whenever you say something to
displease my mother or my two sisters, you may just say good-bye at once
to your peace of mind forever. It is impossible to avoid it, even for
you, angel as you are! They and you will always regard things from a
totally different point of view."
Her eyes turned gravely on his.
"For a time--don't say always, Leon. I am prepared for that at first,
but certainly I can learn what they like if--"
"If?"
"If you will help me."
"Then you will be different, and I don't want you to be different. Let
them go their way; you and I can be all in all to each other, if you
remain your own dear self--the Nathalie I adore. I wish for nothing
more."
How could she resist the sweet charm of such words! While he spoke life
seemed easy, and happiness eternal. Full of good-will to all men, she
never doubted that time would win her the hearts of the women who loved
Leon. She had a strong and noble quality of justice in her character,
which gave her the power of judging calmly, and even enabled her to look
at herself from the unsympathetic point of view of another person. With
a fine intellect and a courageous nature, she did not fear difficulties
although she realised them. Before she had been a week at Poissy she
had gathered enough to know that a hard task lay before her, and as time
went on acknowledged that she must face them alone, except for the
almost passionate prayers she sent up. She did not lose heart. But she
was impulsive, and, worse, impatient of all that seemed to her small and
petty. Bourgeoise though she might be, her education had been
excellent, and had given her a far broader outlook than was possessed by
either the Poissy demoiselles or their mother. She read English and
German books, sometimes even thought she might find in them a safe
subject for discussion. In spite of herself, Claire was not unwilling
to listen, but Felicie was shocked out of measure.
"Why do you wish to read those unsafe writings?" she would ask. "Do you
know, Nathalie, that if people hear of it they will imagine you to be a
Protestant or an unbeliever."
"But I am neither. I read because it interests one to know what is
thought in other countries."
"That cannot be right," said Felicie, decidedly. "It is flinging away
safeguards."
"How?"
"Because here you can ask your priest whether a book is allowable."
Nathalie looked at her bending short-sightedly over her frame, wistful
wonder in her own eyes.
"Do you mean that you always ask the priest before you read!"
"Always, always!" exclaimed Felicie. "If not, it is very certain that
one might be led into a sin. Do not you?"
"I have never been accustomed to such restrictions," said Mme. Leon in
a low voice. "Perhaps your priest is a great reader?"
"He reads his breviary," her sister-in-law answered, reproachfully.
Claire, who felt with anger that Felicie was making herself ridiculous,
struck in sharply:
"I do not agree with Felicie, but I think there should be limits, and I
cannot say I see the use of staffing your head with all that foreign
literature. It has never been our custom."
"But do you not like to know what others think?"
"That is of small consequence," said Claire, superbly.
"It is far better to do something useful," announced her sister,
threading her needle.
"One may do more useful work than embroider vestments, however," Claire
returned. She despised Felicie's narrow interests, and if Nathalie had
been one of her own rank, Claire would have warmly taken her side in the
matter of books. As it was, Nathalie was too shy to fight the battle of
the uses of self-improvement, but a life without new books or
newspapers, which appeared to rest under the same ban, looked so empty
to her that she consulted her husband.
His advice, as usual, was to please herself. "Order what you want, and
ask no one."
"But if it displeases your mother!" said Nathalie, timidly. "Then keep
them in your own room. There they cannot be suspected of imperilling
Felicie's soul."
She followed this counsel, though to her frank disposition even an
appearance of concealment was hateful. And as it was known that
newspapers and periodicals came to the house, she was constantly subject
to remarks showing the disapproval in which such reading was held.
Claire, it is true, looked at the parcels with envy, and would have
given much to borrow them. It was not horror of them which withheld
her, but dislike to be indebted even for so much to her sister-in-law,
and invincible distrust of any one connected with M. Bourget of Tours.