Leontine to the promenade. Her manner sufficiently betrayed the pride
she felt, at being thus an object of attention, while at the same
time it showed her embarrassment with Leontine, with whom she was not
at her ease, being constantly afraid of saying something which might
appear unbecoming. What was most extraordinary in all this was, that
whilst it gave her no uneasiness to make herself ridiculous in the
eyes of a great number of persons with whom she was destined to pass
her life, the bare idea of appearing ridiculous to a single person
whom she scarcely knew, and with whom she would only associate for a
couple of months, at the utmost, would have caused her inexpressible
vexation. Every one was on the promenade. The mothers passed close to
Aglaïa, with lofty and displeased looks, making ill-natured remarks,
which she dreaded might reach the ear of Leontine. Some of the young
ladies too, assumed all their dignity. The young men all bowed to
her; but on that day she thought some of them so common-looking, and
so deficient in style, that they were extremely annoyed at the manner
in which she returned their salutation, watching, as it were, for the
moment when she could do so without being observed by Leontine. The
latter had already asked her the names and professions of several;
and Aglaïa had answered her with some degree of pain, as they had
not very brilliant titles for presentation. When she perceived any
grounds for criticising either their persons or their dress, she
eagerly seized upon it, fearing that Leontine might suppose she had
not observed it. Never before had she discovered so many defects
in her friends and acquaintances. At length she perceived at a
distance Hortense and her brother. "Oh!" said she, "those two are
very amiable." She was dying to introduce them to Leontine, for she
fancied they would be as pleased to be acquainted with her as she
herself was, for, notwithstanding their disagreements, she really
loved them. Besides, she was proud of Gustave, proud of his talents,
and of his reputation, and she was delighted to be able to boast of
them to Leontine; she began, therefore, to praise him with great
warmth, assuring her that he composed most charming verses, and that
every one considered him destined to shine in the _very best society
of Paris_.
"To do that, my dear," replied Leontine, with the air of one who
understood all these sort of things, "to do that, he must acquire
a little more style, for at present he looks very much like a
schoolboy;" saying this she glanced carelessly at Hortense and
Gustave, and began to speak of something else.
Aglaïa blushed, partly for Gustave and partly on her own account,
for she felt that she had compromised herself. By this time her two
friends were close to her; she would willingly have stopped and
spoken to them, and she slackened her pace for that purpose, but
Leontine, whose head was turned in another direction, continued to
walk on, and Aglaïa followed her, casting towards Hortense, for she
dared not look at Gustave, a glance of mingled shame and sadness,
which seemed to say, "See, I know not what to do." Gustave shrugged
his shoulders at beholding his weak-minded little friend reduced to
such slavery.
The following day nothing was talked of in the town but the
impertinences of Aglaïa. One said that she had pretended not to see
her; a third, that she had not bowed to her; another, that she had
looked at her with a laugh, while joining Leontine in ridiculing
her. The young men were divided in their opinion, some being for,
others against her. Gustave was the only one who said nothing, but he
appeared sad, and Hortense endeavoured to palliate her faults.
Two days afterwards, Aglaïa took Leontine for a walk into Madame
Lacour's garden. As she did not know what refreshment to give her,
she had persuaded the servant to bring her some milk and cakes, but
she dared not say a word to her grandmamma on the subject, for fear
she should tell her to invite her other friends also. Aglaïa would
indeed have found this much more pleasant than her _tête-à-tête_ with
Leontine; but then she did not know whether such a thing would be
agreeable to her visitor, and she was so childish, that she felt more
timid with her than with a grownup person. Whilst they were in the
garden, Laurette happened to pass by the gate, and seeing it open,
went in. She was returning with the servant from her father's garden,
where she had been gathering some fruit and salad. She had her basket
on her arm, and wore her every-day dress, which was not over clean,
as she was rather careless. The servant had the manners and coarse
voice of a peasant, and was carrying in a cloth a ham, which a few
days before she had buried in the ground, in order to render it
more tender, and which she had now been to fetch. Judge of Aglaïa's
embarrassment at such a visit. Had she been a sensible girl, had
she possessed any real dignity, she would, in an unaffected manner,
have accustomed Leontine from their very first acquaintance to see
in her the simple habits suitable to a small fortune, and thus have
prepared her for similar habits in the persons of her acquaintances.
To do this, there would have been no need of discoursing about
household duties, a subject of conversation by no means amusing; it
was simply required that she should not carefully shun all allusion
to them as something humiliating. Thus, for instance, she need not
have resorted to a thousand evasions to conceal from Leontine, that
it was herself and her grandmother who made all their preserves, and
prepared for the winter their pickled cucumbers, their vegetables,
and their dried fruits. Leontine, had she known this, might perhaps
have considered it more pleasant not to be obliged to take all this
trouble, but she certainly would never have ventured to make it a
subject of contempt; for that which is reasonable, if performed in
an unaffected manner, without either shame or ostentation, always
carries with it something which is imposing, even in the estimation
of those who are not reasonable. Had Aglaïa acted in this manner, she
would have felt no embarrassment at this apparition of Laurette, with
her salad, and of her servant with the ham; but as it was, all the
fine-lady airs which she had assumed, were completely upset, and she
therefore gave Laurette a very bad reception. Indeed, had it not been
for Mademoiselle Champré, who made room for her on the grass where
they were seated, she would have left her standing. Laurette, who was
very ill-bred, made many absurd remarks, and the servant also joined
several times in the conversation. Aglaïa was in torture. At last
Laurette went away, for the servant, annoyed at being kept waiting,
detailed all that had to be done in the house, in order to hasten
her departure. In the evening, at Madame Dufour's _soirée_, to which
Laurette accompanied her mother, it was whispered that Aglaïa had
given a luncheon to Leontine, in her grandmother's garden, to which
no one had been invited; that Laurette had gone there by chance, and
that she had not even been asked to take anything. This caused a
great deal of excitement, and it was resolved that, as Madame Lacour
allowed her granddaughter to be guilty of such rudeness, they would
not go to her _soirée_ on the following Thursday.
Madame Lacour knew nothing of all this; she had been ill for a week,
and had seen no one but M. Guimont, who took no interest in such
absurdities. She received company on the Thursday for the first
time, and was astonished to find that nobody came. She supposed they
still considered her ill, and finding it getting late, sent her
servant to the houses of two or three of her neighbours, to tell them
she was waiting for them. They replied, that they could not come.
This answer was given in the presence of an old lady, who, having no
daughter, did not consider herself bound to share in the resentment
occasioned by Aglaïa's conduct; besides, being fond of news and
gossip, she was glad to have an opportunity of ascertaining what was
going on at Madame Lacour's; whether the agreement which had been
made would be adhered to; what Madame Lacour would think of it, and
what Aglaïa would say. When, therefore, Madame Lacour expressed her
astonishment at being thus abandoned, "It is not at all surprising,"
said the old lady, "after what has happened."
"What has happened then?" asked Madame Lacour.
Hereupon the old lady detailed, with all the exaggerations usual in
such cases, the misconduct of Aglaïa, and the consequent indignation
of her friends. During this recital, Aglaïa was in the most painful
situation; she made excuses, endeavoured to justify herself, denied
some things, and explained away others; but all this did not prevent
Madame Lacour from being excessively angry with her. She told her
that she felt disposed to send her that very moment to apologize
to all those ladies, but that, at all events, she should have to
apologize. M. Guimont and his children entering at this moment, found
her in tears. "I hope, at least," added Madame Lacour, "that your
rudeness has not extended to the children of my friend M. Guimont;
for this is a thing I would never forgive."
Hortense blushed a little, and ran to embrace Aglaïa; Gustave was
silent, but Madame Lacour having asked him, whether it was because
he was displeased with Aglaïa, that he had not come to correct her
exercises for several days past, he assured her that he had been
very much occupied, a statement which his father confirmed, and he
proposed to look over them at once. Aglaïa, trembling, went and
brought her papers, and gave them to him, not daring, however, to
raise her eyes; he corrected them, but without talking to her, as he
was accustomed to do, and when he had finished, he went over to see
the game which M. Guimont was playing with Madame Lacour and the old
lady. Aglaïa's heart was very heavy. Hortense consoled herself as
well as she could, and said to her, "We shall have plenty of other
things to chat about now; a German lady, the Princess de Schwamberg,
arrived about an hour ago; she will be obliged to remain here for
some days, because her governess, of whom she is very fond, and whom
she treats like a friend, has been taken ill. It turns out that the
governess, who is a French-woman, is a relative of Mademoiselle
Champré. It was my father who informed them that she was here, with
Mademoiselle d'Armilly, and the princess intends, with M. d'Armilly's
permission, to send her daughters to spend a portion of their time
with Mademoiselle Leontine."
Aglaïa, notwithstanding her grief, thought with a certain degree
of satisfaction, that she should see these German princesses; her
vanity rejoiced extremely at the idea of being admitted into such
distinguished society. She put many questions to Hortense, to which
the latter was unable to reply, as her father never conversed with
her about such frivolities; besides, the game was over, and Gustave
approached them; Aglaïa therefore became silent.
The following day, Madame Lacour was still too angry for Aglaïa to
think of asking permission to visit Leontine, but she hoped that
perhaps Leontine might send and invite her. However, she heard
nothing of her, either on that day or the next. It had been agreed
that, on the following Sunday, Leontine was to take her for a drive
in her father's carriage. Madame Lacour, when apprized of this
arrangement, was extremely unwilling to give her consent, but as
it was made, she did not like to interfere with it. She, however,
again severely reprimanded Aglaïa for her misconduct, and ordered
her to show the greatest politeness to all her acquaintances whom
she might chance to meet. At the hour appointed, Aglaïa went to
Leontine's house. She was told that she was on the parade with the
Mesdemoiselles Schwamberg, where the carriage was to take them up.
She went there, and seeing the carriage in the distance, hurried on,
and arrived, quite out of breath, expressing her fear that she had
kept them waiting. "Oh! not at all," said Leontine, "we were not
waiting for you, for there is no room."
"What!" exclaimed Aglaïa, with astonishment, "did you not tell
me...." "You see clearly, my dear," replied Leontine, in a tone of
impatience, "that there is no room: Mesdemoiselles de Schwamberg,
Mademoiselle Champré, and myself make up four."
Mademoiselle Champré was going to speak, and one of the princesses
proposed to make room for her. "No! no!" said Leontine, "we should be
stifled; it must be for another time."
At this moment the coachman mounted his box; Leontine gave Aglaïa
a patronising bow, and the carriage drove off. Aglaïa remained
stupified. All who were on the promenade had been drawing near during
the debate, and had witnessed her humiliation. She heard their
titterings and whisperings, and on raising her eyes, beheld several
of her acquaintances looking at her with an air of derision, while
others turned away, shrugging their shoulders. She made her escape,
her heart swelling with shame and anger. Some ill-bred young men
followed her, ridiculed her, and made a thousand offensive remarks,
which reached her ears. One of them, leaving his companions, passed
before her, and taking off his hat, said, "This is what Mademoiselle
Leontine d'Armilly does." The servant who accompanied Aglaïa, became
angry with them, and said that their parents should be informed of
their conduct. This, however, only increased their laughter and
mockery. Aglaïa walked as fast as she could, in order to escape
from them, and reached home heated and weeping. Interrogated by her
grandmother, she was obliged to relate what had happened, and she had
the additional mortification of being told that it was quite right,
and that she had only received what she deserved. Nevertheless,
Madame Lacour determined, without communicating her intentions to her
granddaughter, to give a lesson to those ill-bred young men, through
M. Guimont, who possessed great authority in all the circles of the
town.
Aglaïa spent two days very unhappily; she would not have ventured
out at all, had not her grandmother absolutely ordered her to do so,
so much did she dread to meet any of those persons who had ridiculed
her. Twice she had met Leontine, who, laughing and talking with
Mesdemoiselles de Schwamberg, had scarcely noticed her. No one had
visited her, not even Hortense. She knew that on the Wednesday there
was to be a _réunion_ at Madame Dufour's garden, and she had not been
invited. She was grieving at seeing herself thus abandoned by every
one, when on the Wednesday Hortense came to see her. She was very
much astonished, for she thought that she was at the garden with the
others. Hortense told her that her father had permitted her and her
brother to refuse the invitation. Aglaïa timidly asked why.
"Because I preferred spending the day with you."
"And Gustave?" said Aglaïa, still more timidly.
"Gustave," replied Hortense, somewhat embarrassed, "would not go,
because you had not been invited, and gave this as his reason,
because he did not wish it to be supposed that he had quarrelled
with you, but he said that he should come to the house as little
as possible, 'because,' he observed, 'I can no longer rely upon
Aglaïa, who can abandon her old friends to accommodate herself to the
caprices of Mademoiselle d'Armilly.'"
Aglaïa wept bitterly, Hortense endeavoured to console her, but she
could not venture to hold out any decided hopes that her brother
would relent, for he appeared to be very decided, and Aglaïa
felt more than ever that the friendship of Gustave was much more
honourable than the momentary partiality of Mademoiselle d'Armilly.
While Hortense and she were sitting together very sorrowfully,
Gustave came in. He still looked somewhat serious, but he was less
cold. They both blushed with surprise and pleasure at seeing him.
"Aglaïa," he said, "must come to the parade with us; I have asked
my father to take us, and he is now dressing to come. I have just
learned," he continued very warmly, "that there is a report that
Aglaïa is afraid to show herself on the parade after what has
recently occurred; we must prove that this is not the case; every one
will be there on their way home from Madame Dufour's garden, and we
must show them that she has still her ... former friends to support
her."
He had hesitated, not knowing what to say. Aglaïa, greatly affected,
threw herself into the arms of Hortense, as if to thank Gustave,
but she was grieved that he had hesitated, that he had only spoken
of _former friends_. "Are you not still my friends?" she exclaimed,
leaning her head on Hortense's shoulder. Hortense embraced her, and
endeavoured to console her. Gustave said nothing, but when for an
instant she raised her eyes towards him, she perceived that his face
wore a softer and less serious expression. Madame Lacour was not in
the room at this moment, as he had availed himself of her absence
to relate what he had heard, for, as she was still an invalid, they
wished to say as little as possible to her about these broils, which
were beginning to annoy her, and might end in making her seriously
angry with those acquaintances with whom M. Guimont was anxious to
reconcile her. They therefore simply asked her to allow Aglaïa to
walk out with M. Guimont and his children. To this she willingly
consented, being delighted to have her granddaughter in such good
company. M. Guimont arrived. Hortense took her father's arm, and
Gustave offered his to Aglaïa. She trembled a little, and did not
dare to say a word. At length a stone caught her foot in such a way
that she must have fallen, had he not supported her: he inquired with
such eagerness and kindness whether she were hurt, that she began to
gain courage. She spoke of her exercises, told him what she had done,
and asked his advice. At length she summoned up courage to say, "Will
you always be angry with me?"
Gustave did not reply. Tears started to Aglaïa's eyes; she held down
her head, but Gustave nevertheless perceived that he had grieved her.
"We are not angry," he said, with some degree of emotion; "but what
grieves us is, that you could so readily forget your old friends for
a mere stranger."
Aglaïa's tears now flowed fast. "I did not forget you," she murmured,
"for all my anxiety was to make you acquainted with Leontine."
Gustave crimsoned, and replied with warmth, "We would not have formed
acquaintance with Mademoiselle d'Armilly. Her society does not suit
us. We wish to associate with those only who treat us as their
equals."
Aglaïa understood by this reply how much he must have felt humiliated
on her account, in consequence of the slavish deference she had
manifested in Leontine's presence; she had reflected much on this
subject during the last two days, and at this moment Gustave's pride
made her blush for it still more. "Very well," she said, after a
moment's silence, "how must I act towards Leontine? for perhaps she
may wish to see me again; perhaps even I may now meet her on the
parade."
"Ask my father," said Gustave; for he was too sensible to trust
altogether to his own judgment in such a case. They approached M.
Guimont, and Gustave repeated to him her question.
"My dear child," said M. Guimont, "how would you act if it were
Laurette, or Mademoiselle Dufour, who had treated you as Mademoiselle
d'Armilly has done? You would not quarrel with her on this account,
for that would be to attach too much importance to such things;
but as it would have been evident that she cared little about your
society, since she neglected to show you those attentions which
alone could render hers agreeable to you, you would treat her with
great reserve, and carefully avoid everything that could lead her to
suppose that you wish to retain her acquaintance. You ought to act in
the same manner with Mademoiselle d'Armilly. According to the usages
of society, you are not her equal, since she is richer and of higher
birth than you are; these usages have their reasons, whether good
or bad, and we must conform to them. Therefore, you ought to regard
it as a matter of course, that those who occupy a more elevated
station than yours, should not seek your society; and you ought
to endure good humouredly the petty distinctions which they think
themselves entitled to claim. But no one is obliged to associate with
those who do not treat him in a manner congenial to his feelings;
therefore, you ought not to think of associating with a person of
superior station to your own, except when she altogether forgets this
inequality, and treats you as she does her other acquaintances."
Gustave listened with great pleasure to these observations of his
father, in whose judgment he had full confidence, and who sometimes
had to check his rather exaggerated notions of self-respect. Aglaïa
thanked M. Guimont, and promised to act towards Leontine with proper
reserve.
"Oh, if you see her again," said Gustave, "she will resume her
influence over you, and we shall have the same thing over again."
Aglaïa assured him that he was mistaken; but Gustave seemed sceptical
on the subject.
"Aglaïa would be in no danger," said M. Guimont, "if she were always
accompanied by a sensible person; but her excellent grandmamma cannot
always be with her."
"Very well," said Aglaïa, taking the arm of Hortense, while she still
held that of Gustave, "in order that I may always have some one to
support me, if M. Guimont will consent, and my grandmamma permit, I
will never go anywhere when she is not with me, unless I can have
Hortense and Gustave by my side."
"That might perhaps be inconvenient to you sometimes," said Gustave,
who nevertheless was greatly pleased with her declaration.
"No, no," she exclaimed; for she felt at that moment that nothing
could confer on her such happiness or honour, as to be always
surrounded by those good and worthy friends. They reached the parade:
it was already crowded. Aglaïa held the arm of Hortense, and Gustave
walked by her side with a proud and satisfied bearing. The young
men who had ridiculed her, now bowed with a disconcerted air, for
M. Guimont, who had already reprimanded them, gave them a look of
severity, which made them cast down their eyes. Aglaïa blushed a
little, but she felt protected, and rejoiced in her position. Madame
and Mademoiselle Dufour passed by. M. Guimont, with a smile, took
their arms, and obliged them, after some little manoeuvring, to walk
with them. The friends who were with Madame Dufour, followed, and
thus Aglaïa saw herself in the midst of that society which had been
so dissatisfied with her conduct. At first no one spoke to her, and
even some disagreeable allusions were allowed to escape; but the
presence of M. Guimont restrained them, especially as he had already
spoken to several of these persons about the absurdity of their
bickerings.
Still Aglaïa felt very uncomfortable, but at each unkind word,
Hortense tenderly pressed her hand, and Gustave approached her,
to show her some mark of attention, or to offer a kind word; and
this friendliness was very consoling to her. At length they ceased
to torment her, but she trembled at beholding Leontine coming
towards them, accompanied by Mesdemoiselles de Schwamberg. Leontine
approached her, and said something expressive of her regret at not
having been able to take her in the carriage two days previously.
Mademoiselle Champré had at last taken upon herself to make her feel
how ridiculous her behaviour had been: and as the young princesses,
who were very polite, had been extremely grieved at the annoyance
which Aglaïa had experienced on their account, Leontine, therefore,
in order to retain their good opinion, endeavoured in some degree to
repair an error, which she assured them had been committed through
mere thoughtlessness. She made her excuses with an awkward air, which
she meant to be easy. Aglaïa was silent, and this silence, together
with the number of people who surrounded her, embarrassed Leontine
extremely, and she said to her, with some degree of brusquerie, "Will
you take a turn with us?"