Marietta had scarcely been fourteen days in the house, between the olive
trees and the African acacias, before every young man of Napoule knew
that she lived there, and that there lived not, in all Provence, a more
charming girl than the one in that house.
Went she through the village, sweeping lightly along like a dressed-up
angel, her frock, with its pale-green bodice, and orange leaves and
rosebuds upon the bosom of it, fluttering in the breeze, and flowers
and ribbons waving about the straw bonnet, which shaded her beautiful
features--yes, then the grave old men spake out, and the young ones were
struck dumb. And everywhere, to the right and left, little windows and
doors were opened with a “Good morning,” or a “Good evening, Marietta,”
as it might be, while she nodded to the right and left with a pleasant
smile.
If Marietta walked into church, all hearts (that is, of the young
people) forgot Heaven; all eyes turned from the saints, and the
worshiping finger wandered idly among the pearls of the rosary. This
must certainly have provoked much sorrow, at least, among the more
devout.
The maidens of Napoule particularly became very pious about this time,
for they, most of all, took the matter to heart. And they were not to
be blamed for it; for since the advent of Marietta more than one
prospective groom had become cold, and more than one worshipper of some
beloved one quite inconstant. There were bickerings and reproaches on
all sides, many tears, pertinent lectures, and even rejections. The talk
was no longer of marriages, but of separations. They began to return
their pledges of troth, rings, ribbons, etc. The old persons took part
with their children; criminations and strife spread from house to house;
it was most deplorable.
Marietta is the cause of all, said the pious maidens first; then the
mothers said it; next the fathers took it up; and finally all--even the
young men. But Marietta, shielded by her modesty and innocence, like
the petals of the rosebud in its dark-green calix, did not suspect
the mischief of which she was the occasion, and continued courteous to
everybody. This touched the young men, who said, “Why condemn the pure
and harmless child--she is not guilty!” Then the fathers said the same
thing; then the mothers took it up, and finally all--even the pious
maidens. For, let who would talk with Marietta, she was sure to gain
their esteem. So before half a year had passed, everybody had spoken to
her, and everybody loved her. But she did not suspect that she was the
object of such general regard, as she had not before suspected that she
was the object of dislike. Does the violet, hidden in the downtrodden
grass, think how sweet it is?
Now every one wished to make amends for the injustice they had done
Marietta. Sympathy deepened the tenderness of their attachment. Marietta
found herself greeted everywhere in a more friendly way than ever; she
was more cordially welcomed; more heartily invited to the rural sports
and dances.