An elder sister of my mother's resided at Colmar, and I passed most of
my time with her during our stay. When my father's regiment was ordered
to Paris, this lady requested that I might remain with her; but my
mother refused, telling her sister that she could not, conscientiously
as a mother, allow any of her daughters to quit her care for any worldly
advantage. That this was mere hypocrisy, the reader will imagine;
indeed, it was fully proved so to be in two hours afterwards, by my
mother telling my father that if her sister had offered to take Clara,
my second sister, she would have consented. The fact was, that the old
lady had promised to dower me very handsomely (for she was rich), and my
mother could not bear any good fortune to come to me.
We passed through Luneville on our road to Paris, and I saw my dear
grandmother for the last time. She requested that I might be left with
her, making the same offer as she did before, of leaving me all her
property at her death, but my mother would not listen to any
solicitation. Now as our family was now fourteen in number, she surely
might, in either of the above instances, have well spared me, and it
would have been a relief to my father; but this is certain, she would
not spare me, although she never disguised her dislike, and would, if
she had dared, have treated me as she had formerly done. I was very
anxious to stay with my dear grandmother. She had altered very much
since my grandfather's death, and was evidently breaking up fast; but my
mother was inexorable. We continued our route, and arrived at Paris,
where we took up our quarters in the barracks close to the Boulevards.
My mother was as harsh as ever, and now recommenced her boxes of the
ear--which during the time we were at Colmar had but seldom been
applied. In all my troubles I never was without friends. I now made an
acquaintance with the wife of the colonel of the regiment who joined us
at Paris. She had no children. I imparted all my troubles to her, and
she used to console me. She was a very religious woman, and as I had
been brought up in the same way by my grandmother, she was pleased to
find piety in one so young, and became much attached to me. She had a
sister, a widow of large fortune, who lived in the Rue St Honore, a very
pleasant, lively woman, but very sarcastic when she pleased, and not
caring what she said if her feelings prompted her. I constantly met her
at the colonel's house, and she invited me to come and see her at her
own, but I knew that my mother would not permit me, so I did not ask.
As the colonel was my father's superior officer, all attempts to break
off my intimacy with her which my mother made, were unavailing, and I
passed as usual all my time in any other house except my home.
I have now to record but two more beatings. The reader may think that I
have recorded enough already, but as these were the two last, and they
were peculiar, I must beg him to allow me so to do. The first beating
was given me for the following cause: A very gentlemanlike young officer
in the regiment was very particular in his attentions to me. I liked
his company, but my thoughts had never been directed towards marriage,
for I was too childish and innocent. One morning it appeared that he
proposed to my father, who immediately gave his consent, provided that I
was agreeable, and this he ventured to do without consulting my mother.
Perhaps he thought it a good opportunity to remove me from my mother's
persecution. At all events when he made known to her what he had done,
and requested her to sound me on the subject, she was in no pleasant
humour. When she did so, my reply was (he being a very
dark-complexioned man, although well-featured), "Non, maman, je ne veux
pas. Il est trop noir."
To my astonishment, my mother flew at me, and I received such an
avalanche of boxes on the ears for this reply, that I was glad to make
my escape as fast as I could, and locked myself up in my own room. Now
I really believe that I was almost a single instance of a young lady
having her ears well boxed for refusing to marry a man that she did not
care for--but such was my fate.
The treatment I received in this instance got wind in the barracks, and
my cause was warmly taken up by every one. Finding myself thus
supported, I one day ventured to refuse to do a very menial and
unpleasant office, and for this refusal I received the second beating.
It was the last certainly, but it was the most severe, for my mother
caught up a hearth-brush, and struck me for several minutes such a
succession of severe blows, that my face was so disfigured that I was
hardly to be recognised, my head cut open in several places, and the
blood pouring down me in every direction. At last she left me for dead
on the floor. After a time I recovered my recollection, and when I did
so, I sprang away from the servants who had been supporting me, and with
my hair flying in the wind, and my face and dress streaming with blood,
I ran across the barrack-yard to the colonel's house, and entering the
room in which she was sitting with her sister, sank at her feet, choking
with the blood which poured out of my mouth.
"Who is it?" exclaimed she, springing up in horror and amazement.
"Valerie--pauvre Valerie," moaned I, with my face on the floor.
They raised me up, sent for the servants, took me into a bedroom, and
sent for the surgeon of the regiment, who lived in the barracks. As
soon as I was somewhat recovered, I told them that it was my mother's
treatment; and I became so excited, that as soon as the surgeon had left
the house, I cried, "Never, madam, will I again enter my father's house;
never while I live--if you do not protect me--or if nobody else will--if
you send me back again, I will throw myself in the Seine. I swear it as
I kneel."
"What is to be done, sister?" said the colonel's wife.
"I will see. At all events, Valerie, I will keep you here a few days
till something can be arranged. It is now quite dark, and you shall
stay here, and sleep on this bed."
"Or the bed of the river," replied I; "I care not if it were that, for I
should not rise up to misery. I have made a vow, and I repeat, that I
never will enter my father's house again."
"My dear Valerie," said the colonel's wife, in a soothing tone.
"Leave her to me, sister," said the other, who was busy arranging my
hair now that my wounds had stopped bleeding, "I will talk to her. The
colonel will be home directly, and you must receive him."
Madame Allarde, for that was the colonel's wife's name, left the room.
As soon as she was gone, Madame d'Albret, her sister, said to me,
"Valerie, I fear that what you have said you will adhere to, and you
will throw yourself into the river."
"Yes, if I am taken back again," replied I. "I hope God will forgive
me, but I feel I shall, for my mind is overthrown, and I am not sane at
times."
"My poor child, you may go back again to your father's house, because my
sister and her husband, in their position, cannot prevent it, but
believe me, you shall not remain there. As long as I have a home to
offer, you shall never want one; but you must listen to me. I wish to
serve you and to punish your unnatural mother, and I will do so, but
Valerie, you must well weigh circumstances before you decide; I say that
I can offer you a home, but recollect life is uncertain, and if it
pleases God to summon me, you will have a home no longer. What will you
do then?--for you will never be able to return to your father's house."
"You are very kind, madam," replied I, "but my resolution is formed, and
I will work for my daily bread in any way that I can, rather than
return. Put me but in the way of doing that, and I will for ever bless
you."
"You shall never work for your bread while I live, Valerie, but if I
die, you will have to do something for your own support, and recollect
how friendless you will be, and so young."
"Can I be more friendless than I am at home, madame?" said I, shaking my
head, mournfully.
"Your father deserves punishment for his want of moral courage as well
as your mother," replied Madame d'Albret. "You had better go to bed
now, and to-morrow give me your decision."
"To-morrow will make no change, madame," answered I, "but I fear that
there is no chance of my escape. To-morrow my father will arrive for me
as usual, and--but I have said it. You may preserve my life, madame,
but how I know not," and I threw myself down on the bed in despair.