Next day I found my rooms done out and dusted, and even flowers put
in the vases, by old Philippe. I began to feel at home. Only it didn't
occur to anybody that a Carmelite schoolgirl has an early appetite, and
Rose had no end of trouble in getting breakfast for me.
"Mlle. goes to bed at dinner-time," she said to me, "and gets up when
the Duke is just returning home."
I began to write. About one o'clock my father knocked at the door of the
small drawing-room and asked if he might come in. I opened the door; he
came in, and found me writing to you.
"My dear," he began, "you will have to get yourself clothes, and to make
these rooms comfortable. In this purse you will find twelve thousand
francs, which is the yearly income I purpose allowing you for your
expenses. You will make arrangements with your mother as to some
governess whom you may like, in case Miss Griffith doesn't please
you, for Mme. de Chaulieu will not have time to go out with you in the
mornings. A carriage and man-servant shall be at your disposal."
"Let me keep Philippe," I said.
"So be it," he replied. "But don't be uneasy; you have money enough of
your own to be no burden either to your mother or me."
"May I ask how much I have?"
"Certainly, my child," he said. "Your grandmother left you five hundred
thousand francs; this was the amount of her savings, for she would not
alienate a foot of land from the family. This sum has been placed in
Government stock, and, with the accumulated interest, now brings in
about forty thousand francs a year. With this I had purposed making an
independence for your second brother, and it is here that you have upset
my plans. Later, however, it is possible that you may fall in with them.
It shall rest with yourself, for I have confidence in your good sense
far more than I had expected.
"I do not need to tell you how a daughter of the Chaulieus ought
to behave. The pride so plainly written in your features is my best
guarantee. Safeguards, such as common folk surround their daughters
with, would be an insult in our family. A slander reflecting on your
name might cost the life of the man bold enough to utter it, or the life
of one of your brothers, if by chance the right should not prevail. No
more on this subject. Good-bye, little one."
He kissed me on the forehead and went out. I cannot understand the
relinquishment of this plan after nine years' persistence in it. My
father's frankness is what I like. There is no ambiguity about his
words. My money ought to belong to his Marquis son. Who, then, has had
bowels of mercy? My mother? My father? Or could it be my brother?
I remained sitting on my grandmother's sofa, staring at the purse which
my father had left on the mantelpiece, at once pleased and vexed that
I could not withdraw my mind from the money. It is true, further
speculation was useless. My doubts had been cleared up and there was
something fine in the way my pride was spared.
Philippe has spent the morning rushing about among the various shops and
workpeople who are to undertake the task of my metamorphosis. A
famous dressmaker, by name Victorine, has come, as well as a woman for
underclothing, and a shoemaker. I am as impatient as a child to know
what I shall be like when I emerge from the sack which constituted the
conventual uniform; but all these tradespeople take a long time; the
corset-maker requires a whole week if my figure is not to be spoilt. You
see, I have a figure, dear; this becomes serious. Janssen, the Operatic
shoemaker, solemnly assures me that I have my mother's foot. The whole
morning has gone in these weighty occupations. Even a glovemaker has
come to take the measure of my hand. The underclothing woman has got my
orders.
At the meal which I call dinner, and the others lunch, my mother told me
that we were going together to the milliner's to see some hats, so that
my taste should be formed, and I might be in a position to order my own.
This burst of independence dazzles me. I am like a blind man who has
just recovered his sight. Now I begin to understand the vast interval
which separates a Carmelite sister from a girl in society. Of ourselves
we could never have conceived it.
During this lunch my father seemed absent-minded, and we left him to his
thoughts; he is deep in the King's confidence. I was entirely forgotten;
but, from what I have seen, I have no doubt he will remember me when he
has need of me. He is a very attractive man in spite of his fifty years.
His figure is youthful; he is well made, fair, and extremely graceful
in his movements. He has a diplomatic face, at once dumb and expressive;
his nose is long and slender, and he has brown eyes.
What a handsome pair! Strange thoughts assail me as it becomes plain
to me that these two, so perfectly matched in birth, wealth, and mental
superiority, live entirely apart, and have nothing in common but their
name. The show of unity is only for the world.
The cream of the Court and diplomatic circles were here last night. Very
soon I am going to a ball given by the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, and
I shall be presented to the society I am so eager to know. A
dancing-master is coming every morning to give me lessons, for I must be
able to dance in a month, or I can't go to the ball.
Before dinner, my mother came to talk about the governess with me. I
have decided to keep Miss Griffith, who was recommended by the English
ambassador. Miss Griffith is the daughter of a clergyman; her mother was
of good family, and she is perfectly well bred. She is thirty-six, and
will teach me English. The good soul is quite handsome enough to have
ambitions; she is Scotch--poor and proud--and will act as my chaperon.
She is to sleep in Rose's room. Rose will be under her orders. I saw at
a glance that my governess would be governed by me. In the six days we
have been together, she has made very sure that I am the only
person likely to take an interest in her; while, for my part, I have
ascertained that, for all her statuesque features, she will prove
accommodating. She seems to me a kindly soul, but cautious. I have not
been able to extract a word of what passed between her and my mother.
Another trifling piece of news! My father has this morning refused the
appointment as Minister of State which was offered him. This accounts
for his preoccupied manner last night. He says he would prefer an
embassy to the worries of public debate. Spain in especial attracts him.
This news was told me at lunch, the one moment of the day when my
father, mother, and brother see each other in an easy way. The servants
then only come when they are rung for. The rest of the day my brother,
as well as my father, spends out of the house. My mother has her toilet
to make; between two and four she is never visible; at four o'clock she
goes out for an hour's drive; when she is not dining out, she receives
from six to seven, and the evening is given to entertainments of various
kinds--theatres, balls, concerts, at homes. In short, her life is so
full, that I don't believe she ever has a quarter of an hour to herself.
She must spend a considerable time dressing in the morning; for at
lunch, which takes place between eleven and twelve, she is exquisite.
The meaning of the things that are said about her is dawning on me. She
begins the day with a bath barely warmed, and a cup of cold coffee with
cream; then she dresses. She is never, except on some great emergency,
called before nine o'clock. In summer there are morning rides, and at
two o'clock she receives a young man whom I have never yet contrived to
see.
Behold our family life! We meet at lunch and dinner, though often I
am alone with my mother at this latter meal, and I foresee that still
oftener I shall take it in my own rooms (following the example of
my grandmother) with only Miss Griffith for company, for my mother
frequently dines out. I have ceased to wonder at the indifference my
family have shown to me. In Paris, my dear, it is a miracle of virtue to
love the people who live with you, for you see little enough of them; as
for the absent--they do not exist!
Knowing as this may sound, I have not yet set foot in the streets, and
am deplorably ignorant. I must wait till I am less of the country cousin
and have brought my dress and deportment into keeping with the society
I am about to enter, the whirl of which amazes me even here, where only
distant murmurs reach my ear. So far I have not gone beyond the garden;
but the Italian opera opens in a few days, and my mother has a box
there. I am crazy with delight at the thought of hearing Italian music
and seeing French acting.
Already I begin to drop convent habits for those of society. I spend the
evening writing to you till the moment for going to bed arrives. This
has been postponed to ten o'clock, the hour at which my mother goes out,
if she is not at the theatre. There are twelve theatres in Paris.
I am grossly ignorant and I read a lot, but quite indiscriminately, one
book leading to another. I find the names of fresh books on the cover of
the one I am reading; but as I have no one to direct me, I light on some
which are fearfully dull. What modern literature I have read all turns
upon love, the subject which used to bulk so largely in our thoughts,
because it seemed that our fate was determined by man and for man. But
how inferior are these authors to two little girls, known as Sweetheart
and Darling--otherwise Renee and Louise. Ah! my love, what wretched
plots, what ridiculous situations, and what poverty of sentiment!
Two books, however, have given me wonderful pleasure--_Corinne_ and
_Adolphe_. Apropos of this, I asked my father one day whether it would
be possible for me to see Mme. de Stael. My father, mother, and Alphonse
all burst out laughing, and Alphonse said:
"Where in the world has she sprung from?"
To which my father replied:
"What fools we are! She springs from the Carmelites."
"My child, Mme. de Stael is dead," said my mother gently.
When I finished _Adolphe_, I asked Miss Griffith how a woman could be
betrayed.
"Why, of course, when she loves," was her reply.
Renee, tell me, do you think we could be betrayed by a man?
Miss Griffith has at last discerned that I am not an utter ignoramus,
that I have somewhere a hidden vein of knowledge, the knowledge we
learned from each other in our random arguments. She sees that it is
only superficial facts of which I am ignorant. The poor thing has opened
her heart to me. Her curt reply to my question, when I compare it with
all the sorrows I can imagine, makes me feel quite creepy. Once more she
urged me not to be dazzled by the glitter of society, to be always on my
guard, especially against what most attracted me. This is the sum-total
of her wisdom, and I can get nothing more out of her. Her lectures,
therefore, become a trifle monotonous, and she might be compared in this
respect to the bird which has only one cry.