Camille was _petite_, with a white skin, and long black hair, and
graceful movements. She was swift to understand her mother's wishes,
prompt to obey them. So much grace and beauty, joined to so much
misfortune, were most disturbing to the Chevalier. He would frequently
embrace the girl in an excited manner, exclaiming aloud: "I am not yet a
wicked man!"
At the end of the garden there was a wooded walk, to which the Chevalier
was in the habit of betaking himself after breakfast. From her chamber
window Madame des Arcis often watched him wistfully as he walked to and
fro beneath the trees. One morning, with palpitating heart, she ventured
to join him. She wished to take Camille to a juvenile ball which was to
be held that evening at a neighbouring mansion. She longed to observe
the effect which her daughter's beauty would produce upon the outside
world and upon her husband. She had passed a sleepless night in devising
Camille's toilette, and she cherished the sweetest hopes. "It must be,"
she told herself, "that he will be proud, and the rest jealous of the
poor little one! She will say nothing, but she will be the most
beautiful!"
The Chevalier welcomed his wife graciously--quite in the manner of
Versailles! Their conversation commenced with the exchange of a few
insignificant sentences as they walked side by side. Then a silence fell
between them, while Madame des Arcis sought fitting words in which to
approach her husband on the subject of Camille, and induce him to break
his resolution that the child should never see the world. Meanwhile, the
Chevalier was also in cogitation. He was the first to speak. He informed
his wife that urgent family affairs called him to Holland, and that he
ought to start not later than the following morning.
Madame understood his true motive only too easily. The Chevalier was far
from contemplating the desertion of his wife, yet felt an irresistible
desire, a compelling need of temporary isolation. In almost all true
sorrow, man has this craving for solitude--suffering animals have it
also.
His wife raised no objection to his project, but fresh grief wrung her
heart. Complaining of weariness, she sank upon a seat. There she
remained for a long time, lost in sad reverie. She rose at length, put
her arm into that of her husband, and they returned together to the
house.
The poor lady spent the afternoon quietly and prayerfully in her own
room. In the evening, towards eight o'clock, she rang her bell, and
ordered the horse to be put into the carriage. At the same time she sent
word to the Chevalier that she intended going to the ball, and hoped
that he would accompany her.
An embroidered robe of white muslin, small shoes of white satin, a
necklace of American beads, a coronet of violets--such was the simple
costume of Camille, who, when her mother had dressed her, jumped for
joy. As Madame was embracing her child with the words, "You are
beautiful! you are beautiful!" the Chevalier joined them. He gave his
hand to his wife, and the three went to the ball.
As it was Camille's first appearance in public, she naturally excited a
great deal of curiosity. The Chevalier suffered visibly. When his
friends praised to him the beauty of his daughter, he felt that they
intended to console him, and such consolation was not to his taste. Yet
he could not wholly suppress some emotion of pride and joy. His feelings
were strangely mixed. After having saluted by gestures almost everybody
in the room, Camille was now resting by her mother's side. The general
admiration grew more enthusiastic. Nothing, in fact, could have been
more lovely than the envelope which held this poor dumb soul. Her
figure, her face, her long, curling hair, above all, her eyes of
incomparable lustre, surprised everyone. Her wistful looks and graceful
gestures, too, were so pathetic. People crowded around Madame des Arcis,
asking a thousand questions about Camille; to surprise and a slight
coldness succeeded sincere kindliness and sympathy. They had never seen
such a charming child; nothing resembled her, for there existed nothing
else so charming as she! Camille was a complete success.
[Illustration: "IT WAS CAMILLE'S FIRST APPEARANCE."]
Always outwardly calm, Madame des Arcis tasted to-night the most pure
and intense pleasure of her life. A smile that was exchanged between her
and her husband was well worth many tears.
Presently, as the Chevalier was still gazing at his daughter, a
country-dance began, which Camille watched with an earnest attention
that had in it something sad. A boy invited her to join. For answer, she
shook her head, causing some of the violets to fall out of her coronet.
Her mother picked them up, and soon put to rights the coiffure, which
was her own handiwork. Then she looked round for her husband, but he was
no longer in the room. She inquired if he had left, and whether he had
taken the carriage. She was told that he had gone home on foot.