MADELEINE was still more perplexed than François, and was on the point
of following him with questions and words of encouragement; but she was
held back by the sudden appearance of Mariette, who, with a strange
expression on her face, announced the offer of marriage she had received
from Jean Aubard. Madeleine, who was unable to disabuse herself of the
idea that the whole affair was the result of a lovers' quarrel,
attempted to speak to the girl of François; but Mariette answered in a
tone which gave her great pain, and was utterly incomprehensible to her:
"Those people who care for foundlings may keep them for their own
amusement; I am an honest girl, and shall not allow my good name to
suffer because my poor brother is dead. I am perfectly independent,
Madeleine; and if I am forced by law to ask your advice, I am not forced
to take it when it is not for my good. So please do not stand in my way,
or I may stand in yours hereafter."
"I cannot imagine what is the matter with you, my dear child," said
Madeleine, very sweetly and sadly. "You speak to me as if you had
neither respect nor affection for me. I think you must be in some
distress which has confused your mind; so I entreat you to take three or
four days, in which to decide. I shall tell Jean Aubard to come back,
and if you are of the same opinion after a little quiet reflection, I
shall give you free leave to marry him, as he is a respectable man, and
comfortably off. But you are in such an excited condition, just now,
that you cannot know your own mind, and you shut your heart against my
affection. You grieve me very much, but as I see that you are grieved
too, I forgive you."
Mariette tossed her head, to show how much she despised that sort of
forgiveness, and ran away to put on her silk apron and prepare for the
reception of Jean Aubard, who arrived, an hour later, with big Sévère
in gala dress.
This time, at last, Madeleine was convinced of Mariette's ill-will
toward her, since the girl had brought into her house, on a family
matter, a woman who was her enemy, and whom she blushed to see.
Notwithstanding this, she advanced very politely to meet Sévère, and
served her with refreshments, without any appearance of anger or
dislike; for she feared that if Mariette were opposed, she would prove
unmanageable. So Madeleine said that she made no objection to her
sister-in-law's desire, but requested three days' grace before giving
her answer.
Thereupon Sévère said, insolently, that was a very long time to wait.
Madeleine answered quietly that it was a very short time.
Jean Aubard then left, looking like a blockhead, and giggling like a
booby, for he was sure that Mariette was madly in love with him. He had
paid well for this illusion, and Sévère gave him his money's worth.
As Sévère left the house, she said to Mariette that she had ordered a
cake and some sweets at home for the betrothal, and even if Madame
Blanchet delayed the preliminaries, they must sit down to the feast.
Madeleine objected that it was not proper for a young girl to go off in
the company of a man who had not as yet received his answer from her
family.
"If that is so, I shall not go," said Mariette, in a huff.
"Oh, yes, yes; you must come," Sévère insisted; "are not you your own
mistress?"
"No, indeed," returned Mariette; "you see my sister-in-law forbids me to
go."
She went into her room and slammed the door; but she merely passed
through the house, went out by the back door, and caught up with
Sévère and her suitor at the end of the meadow, laughing and jeering
at Madeleine's expense.
Poor Madeleine could not restrain her tears when she saw how things were
going.
"François was right," thought she; "the girl does not love me, and she
is ungrateful at heart. She will not believe that I am acting for her
good, that I am most anxious for her happiness, and wish only to prevent
her doing something which she will regret hereafter. She has taken evil
counsel, and I am condemned to see that wretched Sévère stirring up
trouble and strife in my family. I have not deserved all these troubles,
and I must submit to God's will. Fortunately, poor François was more
clear-sighted than I. How much he would suffer with such a wife!"
She went to look for him, to let him know what she thought; but when she
found him in tears beside the fountain, she supposed he was grieving for
the loss of Mariette, and attempted to comfort him. The more she said
the more pained he was, for it became clear to him that she refused to
understand the truth, and that her heart could never feel for him in the
way he had hoped.
In the evening, when Jeannie was in bed and asleep, François sat with
Madeleine, and sought to explain himself.
He began by saying that Mariette was jealous of her, and that Sévère
had slandered her infamously; but Madeleine never dreamed of his
meaning.
"What can she say against me?" said she, simply; "and what jealousy can
she put into poor silly little Mariette's head? You are mistaken,
François; something else is at stake, some interested reason which we
shall hear later. It is not possible that she should be jealous; I am
too old to give any anxiety to a young and pretty girl. I am almost
thirty, and for a peasant woman who has undergone a great deal of
trouble and fatigue, that is old enough to be your mother. The devil
only could say that I think of you in any way but as my son, and
Mariette must know I longed to have you both marry. No, no; never
believe that she has any such evil thought, or, at least, do not mention
it to me, for I should be too much pained and mortified."
"And yet," said François, making a great effort to speak, and bending
low over the fire to hide his confusion from Madeleine, "Monsieur
Blanchet had some such evil thought when he turned me out of doors!"
"What! Do you know that now, François?" exclaimed Madeleine. "How is it
that you know it? I never told you, and I never should have told you. If
Catherine spoke of it to you, she did wrong. Such an idea must shock and
pain you as much as it does me, but we must try not to think of it any
more and to forgive my husband, now that he is dead. All the obloquy of
it falls upon Sévère; but now Sévère can be no longer jealous of me.
I have no husband, and I am as old and ugly as she could ever have
wished, though I am not in the least sorry for it, for I have gained the
right of being respected, of treating you as a son, and of finding you a
pretty young wife, who will live happily with me and love me as a
mother. This is my only wish, François, and you must not distress
yourself, for we shall find her. So much the worse for Mariette if she
despises the happiness I had in store for her. Now, go to bed, my child,
and take courage. If I thought I were any obstacle to your marrying, I
should send you away at once; but you may be sure that nobody worries
about me, or imagines what is absolutely impossible."
As François listened to Madeleine, he was convinced that she was right,
so accustomed was he to believe all that she said. He rose to bid her
good night, but, as he took her hand, it happened that, for the first
time in his life, he looked at her with the intention of finding out
whether she were old and ugly; and the truth is, she had long been so
sad and serious that she deceived herself, and was still as pretty a
woman as she had ever been.
So when François saw all at once that she was still young and as
beautiful as the blessed Virgin, his heart gave a great bound, as if he
had climbed to the pinnacle of a tower. He went back for the night to
the mill, where his bed was neatly spread in a square of boards among
the sacks of flour. Once there, and by himself, he shivered and gasped
as if he had a fever; but it was only the fever of love, for he who had
all his life warmed himself comfortably in front of the ashes, had
suddenly been scorched by a great burst of flame.
[Illustration]