ATTENTIONS TO THE HEIRESS.
Near the close of the day in which Ernestine de Beaumesnil had
unconsciously been the object of so much avaricious envy, and of so many
more or less perfidious machinations, the young girl was alone in one of
her sumptuous apartments, awaiting the dinner hour.
The richest heiress in France was far from being beautiful or even
pretty. Her high forehead, prominent cheekbones, and rather long chin
imparted considerable irregularity to her features, but this was soon
forgotten in the charm of the young girl's face and expression; for the
forehead, fair as alabaster, and surrounded with a wealth of rich
chestnut hair, surmounted blue eyes of infinite sweetness, while rich
scarlet lips, pearl white teeth, and a smile that was both ingenuous and
melancholy seemed to implore forgiveness for the imperfections of the
face.
Ernestine de Beaumesnil, who was now only sixteen, had grown very
rapidly, so, although her tall figure was perfectly straight and
symmetrical, the young girl, who had but just regained her health, still
held herself slightly bent, an attitude which made the graceful lines of
her remarkably beautiful throat all the more noticeable.
In short, antiquated and common as the comparison is, the expression, a
lily bending upon its stem, described Ernestine de Beaumesnil's
appearance exactly.
Poor orphan, crushed by the sorrow which her mother's death had caused
her!
Poor child, overwhelmed by the, to her, crushing weight of her colossal
wealth!
Strange contrast, indeed! It was pity, an even tender pity which the
face and eyes and attitude of this heiress of almost royal wealth seemed
to invoke!
The plain black dress which Ernestine wore enhanced the remarkable
brilliancy of her complexion; but as she sat there with her hands folded
upon her knees, and her head bowed upon her breast, the young orphan
looked very sad and thoughtful.
It was half past five when the girl's governess stole softly into the
room and said:
"Will mademoiselle see Mlle. de la Rochaigue?"
"Certainly, my good Laine," replied the girl, startled out of her
reverie. "Why doesn't Mlle. de la Rochaigue come in?"
The governess went out and returned almost immediately, followed by
Mlle. Helena de la Rochaigue, who made two profound and very ceremonious
bows, which the poor child instantly returned, surprised and pained to
see a woman of Mlle. Helena's age approach her with such obsequiousness.
"I thank Mlle. de Beaumesnil for having kindly granted me a moment's
conversation," said Mlle. Helena, in a formal but extremely deferential
tone, making another low bow, which Ernestine returned as before, after
which she said, with evident embarrassment:
"I, too, have a favour to ask of you, Mlle. Helena."
"Of me? How glad I am!" exclaimed M. Macreuse's protectress, quickly.
"I beg you will have the goodness to call me Ernestine instead of Mlle.
de Beaumesnil. If you knew how it overawes me, mademoiselle."
"I feared I should displease you, mademoiselle, by being more familiar."
"Once more I beseech you to say 'Ernestine' and not mademoiselle. Are we
not relatives? And after a little, if you find I am deserving of your
love, you will say 'My dear Ernestine,' will you not?"
"Ah, my affection was won the moment I saw you, my dear Ernestine,"
replied Helena, with effusion. "I could see that all the Christian
graces, so adorable in one of your years, flourished in your heart. I
will not speak of your beauty, though it is so charmingly spirituelle in
its type, for you look like one of Raphael's madonnas. Beauty,"
continued the devotee, casting down her eyes, "beauty is a fleeting gift
and valueless in the eyes of the Saviour, while the noble qualities with
which you are endowed will ensure your eternal salvation."
Overwhelmed by this avalanche of extravagant praise, the orphan did not
know what to say in reply, and could only stammer a feeble protest:
"I do not deserve such praise, mademoiselle," she said, "and--and--"
Then, well pleased to discover a means of escaping this flattery which
made a singularly unpleasant impression upon her in spite of her
inexperience, she added:
"But you said you wished to ask me something, did you not,
mademoiselle?"
"Yes," responded Helena, "I came to ask your wishes in regard to service
to-morrow."
"What service, mademoiselle?"
"Why, the holy office we attend every day."
Then, seeing that Ernestine evinced some surprise, Mlle. Helena added,
sanctimoniously:
"We go every day to pray an hour for the souls of your father and
mother."
Until then the young girl had never had any fixed hour to pray for her
father and mother. The orphan prayed nearly all day; that is to say,
almost every minute she was thinking with pious respect and ineffable
tenderness of the parents whose loss she so deeply deplored. Now,
scarcely daring to decline mademoiselle's invitation, Ernestine sadly
replied:
"I thank you for the kind thought, mademoiselle. I will accompany you,
of course."
"The nine o'clock mass would be most suitable, I think," said the
devotee, "and that is said in the Chapel of the Virgin, for whom you
have a special preference, I think you remarked last evening,
Ernestine."
"Yes, mademoiselle, every Sunday in Italy I attended mass in the Chapel
of the Madonna. She, too, was a mother, so it seemed most fitting that I
should address my prayers for my mother to her."
"They will certainly prove efficacious, Ernestine, and as you have
commenced your devotions under the invocation of the mother of our
blessed Saviour, it would be well to continue them under the same
protection, so we will perform our devotions in the Chapel of the Virgin
every morning at nine o'clock."
"I will be ready, mademoiselle."
"Then will you authorise me to give the necessary orders so your
carriage and servants will be ready at that hour?"
"My carriage,--my servants?"
"Certainly," said the devotee, with emphasis. "Your carriage, with your
own coat of arms emblazoned upon it, and draped in mourning. One of the
footmen will follow us into the church, carrying a black velvet bag
containing our prayer-books. You know, of course, that is the custom
followed by all people of fashion and position."
"Forgive me, mademoiselle, but I really do not see the use of so much
pomp. I go to church only to pray, so can we not go afoot? The weather
is so delightful at this season of the year."
"What an admirable example of modesty in the midst of opulence, and
simplicity in the midst of grandeur!" cried the devotee. "Ah, Ernestine,
you have indeed been blessed by the Saviour. Not a single virtue is
lacking. You possess the rarest of all, saintly, divine humility,--you
who are, nevertheless, the richest heiress in France."
Ernestine gazed at Mlle. Helena with increasing astonishment.
The artless girl did not feel that she was expressing any remarkably
laudable sentiments in saying that she preferred to walk to church on a
delightful summer morning; so her surprise increased on hearing the
devotee continue to laud her to the skies in almost ecstatic tones.
"The grace of Heaven has indeed touched your heart, my dear Ernestine,"
she exclaimed. "Yes, yes, everything indicates beyond a doubt that the
Saviour has blessed you by inspiring you with the most profoundly
religious sentiments, by giving you a taste for an exemplary life, spent
in the exercise of a piety which does not forbid those harmless
diversions which may be found in society. May God protect and watch over
you, my dear Ernestine, and soon, perhaps, he will give you a still more
unmistakable sign of his all-powerful protection."
The loquacity of the usually silent and reserved devotee was interrupted
by the appearance of Madame de la Rochaigue, who, less discreet than her
sister-in-law, entered unannounced.
The baroness, greatly surprised to find Ernestine tete-a-tete with
Helena, eyed the latter rather suspiciously, but the devotee assumed
such a vacant and sanctimonious expression that the lady's suspicions
were instantly dispelled.
The orphan rose and advanced to meet Madame de la Rochaigue who,
bustling in, bright and sparkling and smiling, said to the girl in the
tenderest manner, seizing both her hands:
"My dearest child, I have come--if you will permit me--to keep you
company until the dinner hour, for I am really jealous of my dear
sister-in-law's good fortune."
"How very kind you all are to me, madame!" replied Ernestine, grateful
for the kind attentions of the baroness.
Helena rose to go, and, with the intention of anticipating any possible
question Madame de la Rochaigue's curiosity might prompt, said to the
young girl:
"To-morrow morning at nine o'clock, that is understood, is it not?"
Then, after an affectionate nod of the head to the baroness, Helena
departed, escorted to the door by Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
As she was returning to Madame de la Rochaigue, that lady drew back a
few steps in proportion as Ernestine approached, and said to her, in
tones of tender reproach:
"Ah, my dear, sweet child, you are incorrigible!"
"And why, madame, do you say that?"
"I am terribly, pitilessly, brutally plain-spoken as I have told you. It
is one of my greatest faults, so I shall scold you, scold you every day
of your life, if you don't hold yourself straighter."
"It is true, madame, though I certainly try my best not to bend over
so."
"But I shall not allow it, my darling child. I shall show you no mercy.
What is the use of having such a lovely figure if you do not show it off
any better? What is the use of having such a charming face, with such
delicate features, and such an air of distinction, if you keep your head
always bowed?"
"But, madame!" exclaimed the orphan, no less embarrassed by these
worldly eulogiums than by those which the devotee had lavished upon her.
"Nor is this all," continued Madame de la Rochaigue, with affectionate
gaiety. "I have a good scolding in store for that excellent Madame
Laine. You have beautiful hair, and you would look a thousand times
better if you wore it in curls. The carriage of your head is naturally
so graceful and distinguished,--when you hold yourself erect, I mean of
course,--that long curls would be wonderfully becoming to you."
"I have always worn my hair in this way, madame, and have never thought
of changing my style of coiffure, it being, I confess, a matter of very
little consequence to me."
"And that is very wrong in you, my dearest, for I want you to be
attractive, very attractive. I am so proud of my charming ward that I
want her to outshine everybody, even our greatest beauties."
"I could never hope to do that, madame," replied Ernestine, with a
gentle smile.
"But you must and shall, mademoiselle," laughingly replied the baroness.
"I want you to understand, once for all, that my ambition for you knows
no bounds. In short, I mean that you shall be considered the prettiest
and most charming of young girls, as you will by and by be known as the
most elegant of women. It is true I saw you first only yesterday, but
from certain traits and tendencies which I have noticed in you, I am
sure, as I remarked just now, that you were born to be a brilliant star
in the fashionable world."
"I, madame?" exclaimed the orphan, wonderingly.
"Yes, I am positive of it, for to be the rage it is not absolutely
necessary to possess beauty or wealth or aristocratic lineage, or to be
a marquise or a duchess, though it must be admitted that this last title
aids one very materially. No, no, the one essential, I assure you, is a
certain _je ne sais quoi!_ You have it; it is the easiest thing in the
world to discern it in you."
"Really, madame, you amaze me," exclaimed the poor child, utterly
abashed.
"That is very natural, for you, of course, cannot understand this, my
dear child; but I, who am studying you with the proud but jealous eye
of a mother, do understand it. I can foresee what you will become, and I
rejoice at it. No life can be half as delightful as that of one of
society's favourites. Queen of every fete, her life is a continual
enchantment. And, now I think of it, to give you some idea of the world
of fashion over which you are certainly destined to reign some day, I
will take you to the races in the Bois de Boulogne, where you will see
the _creme de la creme_ of Parisian society. It is a diversion entirely
compatible with your mourning."
"Excuse me, madame, but such crowds always frighten me, and--and--"
"My darling child!" exclaimed the baroness, interrupting her ward, "it
is useless to oppose me. I am the most obstinate creature in the world.
Besides, I insist upon being treated as well as my good sister-in-law.
By the way, my dear, tell me right here and now what you two have been
plotting to do so early to-morrow morning."
"Mlle. Helena wishes to take me with her to church, madame."
"She is right, my dearest child. One should never neglect one's
religious duties; but nine o'clock--that is frightfully early. Women of
fashion never go before noon; then one at least has time to make a
handsome morning toilet, and one also meets many of one's acquaintances
there."
"I am in the habit of rising early, madame, and as Mlle. Helena seemed
to prefer going at nine o'clock, it made no difference to me."
"My dear child, I told you a little while ago that I should be
appallingly frank with you."
"And I shall thank you very much for it, madame."
"Of course, you ought not to be proud and arrogant because you are the
richest heiress in France, but though you should not abuse your power to
impose your wishes and caprices upon others, there is certainly no need
of your going so far as to gratify the caprices of others. Do not forget
that your immense wealth--"
"Alas! madame," said Ernestine, unable to repress two big tears that
rose to her eyes and then rolled slowly down her cheeks, "on the
contrary, I am doing my very best to forget this wealth, for it reminds
me that I am an orphan."
"My poor dear little darling!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaigue,
embracing Ernestine effusively, "how angry I am with myself for having
unintentionally grieved you. Dry those lovely eyes, I beg of you. It
makes me wretched to see you weep!"
Ernestine wiped away her tears, and the baroness continued,
affectionately:
"Come, my child, you must be brave and sensible. Of course it is a
terrible, an irreparable misfortune to be an orphan, but as the
misfortune is irreparable you should make the best of it, and say to
yourself that you at least are blessed with some devoted relatives and
friends, and that, though the past is sad and gloomy, the future may be
most brilliant."
As Madame de la Rochaigue was thus consoling the orphan, a deprecating
rap was heard at the door.
"Who is it?" inquired the baroness.
"Mlle. de Beaumesnil's majordomo, who solicits the honour of throwing
himself at her feet."
Ernestine evinced so much surprise that the baroness said, smilingly:
"It is only one of M. de la Rochaigue's jokes. It is he who is at the
door."
Mlle. de Beaumesnil also tried to smile as the baroness said, in a loud
voice:
"Come in, M. majordomo, come in!"
Whereupon the baron entered, showing his long teeth more than ever in
the broad smile his joke had inspired. Approaching Ernestine with great
deference, he bowed low before her and even kissed her hand, saying as
he did so:
"Is my charming ward still content with me? Is anything lacking for her
comfort? Does she find her establishment on a suitable footing? Has she
discovered any inconveniences in her apartments? Is she satisfied with
her servants?"
"There is nothing with which I can find the slightest fault," answered
Ernestine; "quite the contrary, indeed, for this magnificent suite of
rooms, exclusively for my use, is--"
"Nothing can be too handsome or too luxurious for the richest heiress in
France," interrupted the baron, in his most peremptory tones.
"I am deeply gratified and touched by the affectionate welcome I have
received from your family," said Ernestine; "and I assure you that
everything else is of very little importance to me."
Just then the folding doors opened, and the butler announced, in a loud
voice: "Mademoiselle is served."