"On a fine summer evening about two years after the sad day that had
seen the departure of Edmee and her mother from their beloved home,
Madame Germain, with her husband and son, was sitting on the bench in
front of their cottage--the cottage which is at present, at the time I
am writing, inhabited by Mathurine Le Blanc and her sons, standing, as I
think I have already said, some short way out of the village--enjoying a
little rest after the labour of the day. Not that they were altogether
idle. The mother was of course knitting, the father smoking his pipe,
if that can be considered an occupation, and the son was holding an open
letter in his hand, from which he had just been reading aloud.
"`Yes,' he said, `in a few days from now we may certainly expect her.
She was to leave the next week, my lady says, and that is a fortnight
ago.'
"`Old Ludovic was to bring her a part of the way, was he not?' said
Germain, taking his pipe out of his mouth; `I wish he had been coming
all the way. I should have liked a talk about many things with the good
old man.'
"`Ah yes,' agreed his wife, `and so should I. But think of the long
journey, Germain, and he is getting very old.'
"`Besides, he would never have agreed to leave my lady and her daughter
for so long,' said Pierre. `Think--now that Nanette has left them, old
Ludovic is the only one of their own people about them! Oh, how I wish
my lady would make up her mind to come home!'
"`Perhaps she cannot--she hints as much,' said Madame Germain. `You
know the Marquis is the dear child's guardian bylaw, and he is an
obstinate man once he takes a thing in his head. But we shall hear more
from Nanette--more, perhaps, than the Countess likes to write; letters
are risky things, to my way of thinking.'
"`And these are ticklish times,' said father Germain. He was a man of
few words, and therefore what he did say carried the more weight.
"`Yes, father, you are right,' said Pierre, and unconsciously he dropped
his voice and spoke in a lower key. `Our good cure was telling me some
strange things to-day. The bad feeling is spreading fast. There was a
chateau fired last week not very far from Sarinet. To be sure it was
put out and no lives lost; but there was a good deal of destruction
done, and it shows that it is coming nearer.'
"`But here at Valmont,' said his mother, always slow to believe ill, `I
could _never_ be afraid. Think how steady and industrious a set our
people are--how loyal and faithful they have always shown themselves;
and with good reason, for have they not ever been treated most
generously and kindly by our masters?'
"`Ah yes,' said Germain, `but it is not always the majority that carries
the day. Here, as everywhere, there are _some_ idle and discontented
and turbulent spirits--enough to give trouble if they united with
others. And I am assured that in no case is it the country people
themselves that _start_ the thing. Poor creatures! they are mostly too
ground-down and wretched to start anything. But they are ready to
follow, though not to lead, and the fire of revolt once lighted by the
secret emissaries sent for the purpose from Paris, soon spreads. Alas,
I see not what is before us all--here even in our quiet, happy Valmont!'
"Pierre, who had listened eagerly to his father's words, was on the
point of replying when he suddenly started. They had been talking so
earnestly that they had not heard footsteps coming up the few yards of
lane which led from the village main street, till the new-comer was
close to them, and Pierre, recovering from his first surprise, touched
his mother on the shoulder.
"`Some one is here, mother,' he said, as Madame Germain looked up from
her knitting. `Can it be--yes, I think it must be--Nanette?'
"`Yes, indeed,' said the young woman, holding out her hand with a smile.
`I am not surely so changed as you, Monsieur Pierre. Had I seen you
anywhere else I would not have known you, so tall as you have grown.
And you, Monsieur and Madame, of course you are not changed at all; you
do not look a day older.'
"`Life passes quietly here, my good Nanette,' said the forester. `We do
not wear ourselves out with wishing to be everything that we are not, as
some do.'
"`Ah no--you are wise,' said the girl. `And I--I cannot tell you how
happy I am to be at home again. Even,' she added with a slight blush,
`even if I were not going to be married'--for it was to fulfil an
engagement made before she had gone to Paris that Nanette had
returned--`it is so good to feel safe in one's own country.'
"`Safe,' repeated Madame Germain; `but surely you were not _afraid_ in
Paris?'
"`I don't know,' said Nanette evasively, and yet with a half glance
round as if she feared her words might be overheard; `I don't like
Paris. It is not a place for good, simple people. All these new
ideas!--ah, don't let us talk of all that. I have so much to tell you
of our dear ladies; Paris or no Paris, it has been a terrible grief to
me to leave them,' and her pretty bright eyes filled with tears.
"`We were just talking of them when you came up,' said Madame Germain,
`and wondering when we should see you. Sit down, my child; in our
surprise at seeing you we are forgetting politeness, and you must be
tired with your long journey.'
"`When did you arrive?'
"`Only last night,' said Nanette. `But I am not tired now. Yesterday
was very pleasant; father drove the light cart over to Machard to meet
me. The two days before in the diligence--ah, that was tiring. My
great-uncle Ludovic came the first day's journey with me, by my lady's
wish; you see what care she takes of me--of every one about her.'
"`As ever--our dear lady!' said Madame Germain.
"`Ah, if there were more like her!' said Nanette. `Things and feelings
would not be what they are coming to, if there had been more like her.
The Marquise now--for all she looks so tiny and delicate--ah! she has a
hard and cruel heart--or no heart at all. She is a fit wife for her
husband. And how they are hated! Worse than ever, I believe.'
"`By those about them in Paris, do you mean?' said the father Germain.
`At Sarinet he is now almost a stranger. All these years, I think, he
has never been back again.'
"`And do you not know why?' said Nanette. `'Tis said he dare not--and
yet at worst he is a _brave_ man. Perhaps after all he has some
conscience left, and shrinks from seeing the utter wretchedness he has
caused. We passed through many villages on our way, but in none did I
see more hideous misery than at Sarinet. My lord is always short of
money now--he spends so much in every way--and they do say that he and
the Marquise too lose great sums at play. And when the money runs dry
it is always the same thing. "Get it out of those lazy hounds of mine
at Sarinet," writes my lord to his bailiff, and then the screw is put on
again, ever tighter and tighter. Ah, it is horrible!' and Nanette
shuddered.
"Germain looked up at her in surprise. She had changed. It was not
like the simple, light-hearted girl of three years ago to speak so
forcibly, or to feel things so deeply.
"`How have you heard so much, my girl?' he said.
"`In Paris one learns much,' said Nanette. `Much ill I might have
learnt had my lady not taken care of me almost as if I had been her own
sister. But the servants all talk, and chatter, and complain, and
threaten--and my lady, she too told me a great deal. She has almost no
one to talk to there--no one who sees things as she does. And she told
me to tell you--her good friends she always calls you--all I could. She
wants you to understand how she is placed. There is nothing she longs
for so much as to return to Valmont, and from month to month she is
hoping to see her way to doing so. But the Marquis opposes it, and you
know he is Mademoiselle's guardian by law, and my lady does not like to
anger him; his temper, too, grows worse and worse, though he is gentler
to her than to any one else. But you can fancy it is not a home such as
our dear ladies can be happy in. And at times I can see that the
Countess is really afraid. There is talk of dark and wild things.
There have been meetings of the people where dreadful threats have been
uttered against the king and queen, the clergy and the nobles--against
every one in high position, and sometimes the police and the soldiers
even, could scarce disperse them. Many think the people once roused
will not be quieted again. And of all the great rich nobles who have
oppressed the poor and made themselves hated, none, or few at least, are
more hated than the Marquis.'
"`And our dear Countess is his sister!' exclaimed Madame Germain, over
whose cheerful face had crept a cloud of foreboding.
"`I wonder you could bear to leave them,' said Pierre, almost
indignantly; but Nanette did not resent his tone. She turned to him,
her eyes full of tears.
"`I did my utmost to stay,' she replied, `but my lady would not hear of
it. Albert had waited so long, she said; it was not right to put him
off still, though for my part I could have found it in my heart to put
him off altogether. I saw that the idea worried her. Then, too, I
think she was glad for me to come home to talk to you--to explain things
a little. She dare not write very much--letters are never very safe.
And she is so lonely--in the midst of all that racket--she and
Mademoiselle Edmee.'
"`Have they no friends they care for?' asked Pierre.
"`Few--very few. And already of those some have left the country. Yes,
indeed,' said Nanette, `it is not yet much known, but several of the
wiser and far-seeing among the nobility have gone to Switzerland--some
to Holland, and to England, on pretence of travelling, but it is known
they do not intend to return till they see how things turn out.'
"`It seems almost cowardly,' said Pierre.
"`Yes,' said Nanette, `so my lady said. But I do not know that it is
so. What can the few do in such a state of things? And they have their
children to think of.'
"`It is true. But _our_ lady need not go so far. In no foreign country
could she be so safe as here in her own Valmont.'
"`It seems so at present,' said the girl with a sigh. `But all the talk
I have heard frightens and confuses me. Once the fire is lighted, who
can say? Still I wish with all my heart, and so does my old uncle
Ludovic, that the ladies were here, and not in Paris. And you may be
sure the Countess will seize the first chance of returning. I was to
tell you this--and to say that she will count on you, father Germain,
and on Pierre, to help them if occasion arises.'
"`She will not be disappointed,' said Germain, and Pierre eagerly agreed
with him.
"`But all the same,' continued his father, `I confess I do not see the
great difficulty about their getting away; the Marquis would never
_force_ his sister to stay?'
"`No,' said Nanette, `but there _are_ difficulties. I think my lord has
power over Mademoiselle Edmee's money, and if the Countess broke off
with him she might not know what he did with it. It is something like
that, but my lady never fully explained to me. I only hope--' But then
Nanette hesitated.
"`What, my girl?' said Madame Germain.
"`Perhaps it is wrong of me to think so, but I have sometimes wondered
if my dear little lady's money is safe. The Marquis is always short of
money now, and for my part I think some of these fine gentlemen have
strange notions of honesty.'
"`Not among themselves,' said Germain. `They may rob the poor, but they
would think it dishonour to rob each other. However, I can understand
how you mean, Nanette,' and he too gave a deep sigh. Ruin to their
young mistress would not be prosperity for Valmont.
"`And who is taking your place now, my good Nanette,' asked mother
Germain. `Is that girl whom Edmee disliked so--that Victorine, still
with the Marquise?'
"`Yes,' said Nanette. `I cannot bear her. She is clever and cunning,
and no one can please the Marquise as she does. She flatters her lady
to her face, but behind her back she speaks worse than any of the
servants. She is as false as she can be, and would be the first to turn
on her masters--she wanted to attend to Mademoiselle when she heard I
was leaving, but our ladies do not like her. They live so simply--never
going to parties or anything of that kind, for which indeed,
Mademoiselle is too young, and my lady too sad she says--that they need
but little attendance. And there is a poor girl there--a Sarinet girl--
whom my ladies have taken a fancy to. Marguerite Ribou is her name.
She is a pretty, gentle girl, about my own age. I taught her what I
could; perhaps with such kind mistresses she may get on,' said Nanette,
with a slightly patronising tone.
"`A Sarinet girl! I wonder to hear they have any one from Sarinet in
the household,' said mother Germain.
"`This girl is an orphan. Her only brother died some years ago. I
think there was some ugly story about his death, though she never speaks
of it,' said Nanette. `I fancy he was cruelly treated, and that even
the Marquis was somewhat ashamed, and the girl was offered a place at
the chateau to save appearances.'
"`I wonder she took it,' said mother Germain.
"`She was starving probably,' said Nanette. `Hunger is a hard master.
But I doubt if her feelings to the family are much better than those of
Victorine, only Marguerite says nothing.'
"Suddenly Pierre broke in.
"`Marguerite Ribou--I remember her!' he exclaimed. `Mother, you have
not forgotten my telling you of what I saw at Sarinet?--a young man all
fainting and bleeding, and they were _driving_ him--the brutes! And his
sister was called Marguerite. Yes, indeed! how could she go to serve
them?'
"`It must have been, as I say--she had no choice,' answered Nanette.
`And now I think she will stay out of affection for our ladies, who have
been kind to her from the first. But for them, in that bad Paris, what
would have become of her, heaven only knows. I must be going, my good
friends. I promised mother not to be long--my first day at home! But I
shall see you often, for I shall not be more quickly tired of talking of
our ladies than you will be of hearing. The Countess has such trust in
you; she even told me to say to you--' But here again poor Nanette
stopped, and the tears filled her eyes. `There is no hurry,' she said;
`I will tell you another time.'
"`Nay, my dear,' said Mother Germain, `I would like to hear it now,
while her words are fresh in your mind.'
"`It was the day I left. She was very sad; I think she was sorry for me
to go, and perhaps there were other causes. "Tell my dear Germains,"
she said, "that if anything happens to me--one knows not what it might
be in these times that are threatening us--there is no one--I have no
friends I trust as I do them, no one to whom I could better confide my
child. Even little Pierre"--my lady does not know how tall you are now,
Monsieur Pierre,' said Nanette, with a smile--`"Pierre, I believe, would
give his life for Edmee," she said.'
"`And she said true,' said Pierre, his face glowing.
"`Thank you, Mademoiselle Nanette, for telling me her very words.'
"Then at last the girl left them, after reminding them all, Pierre
included, that she counted upon them as guests at her wedding the
following week.
"`She is a good girl,' said Madame Germain, when Nanette had gone; `but
that she always was. She comes of a good stock. Old Ludovic is as
faithful a servant as any one could possibly desire. Nanette has
improved wonderfully. I used not to think her so intelligent and quick
of perception.'
"`It is the society of the Countess that has improved and educated her,'
said father Germain, between the puffs of smoke from his pipe, which he
was again enjoying--with, however, a grave, almost uneasy, expression on
his face.
"He said nothing, however, till that evening, when alone with his wife,
for he was a man who well considered not only his words, but the best
time at which to utter them.
"`I like not the look of things--over there,' he said, with a jerk of
his thumb in the direction where Paris was supposed to lie. `I think
the girl Nanette is right in her fears. I wish my lady were back among
us.'
"`So indeed do I,' said Madame Germain.
"`There is no use saying much about it before the boy,' resumed her
husband. `He thinks enough of it already. Much more and he would be
setting off to Paris to rescue them before one clearly sees the danger.'
"`But we would not stop him,' said his wife.
"`Not if it were to render them real service. I would go myself. Thou
knowest that, wife! But we must wait awhile till we see. No use
getting ourselves into trouble without doing them any good.'
"`True,' said Pierre's mother, for she had the greatest respect for her
husband's opinion.
"`At the same time do not mistake me,' he said. `I am more than ready
to do any service the Countess could desire. It may be that what she
says is the fact--that she has no friends she can so depend on as upon
us. We are plain and simple folk, but we are faithful, and we are
grateful, and the time may come for us to show it.'
"`God grant we may see how to act wisely should it be so,' said his wife
fervently. `And God spare my lady and her child for a peaceful life in
their own home.'
"`Amen,' said the forester, no less devoutly than his good wife.
"Nanette's wedding-day arrived, and the ceremony was celebrated with the
usual gaieties. According to a special message from Edmee, Pierre, who
was a better scribe than either his father or mother, wrote a full
account of it to the Countess in Paris. He was very important over this
letter, which took him quite a week to complete to his satisfaction, and
then he took it to Nanette, now young Madame Delmar, for her approval,
which was heartily bestowed.
"`Ah, how pleased Mademoiselle will be to get it,' she said. `I can
fancy her reading it aloud to her dear mother, and possibly, if he has
been "very good," as Mademoiselle calls it, Monsieur Edmond will be
allowed to hear it.'
"Pierre's face darkened.
"`That fellow!' he exclaimed, and he made a movement as if he would tear
the paper. `I won't have him mocking at my letter, Nanette.'
"The young woman looked at him with surprise.
"`No fear,' she said. `You don't think our young lady would allow him
or any one to mock at anything to do with her dear Valmont. Besides
poor Monsieur Edmond is not likely to do so. He is much the best of
them, and he is so ill; they say he cannot live long. I think it is
partly pity for him that keeps our ladies there. I was telling your
good mother about him the other day, but you were not there, I
remember.'
"Pierre looked a little ashamed of his ebullition.
"`I am sorry,' he said. `I did not know. I thought of him as when I
saw him five years ago.'
"`Ah, yes,' said Nanette; `but since then he is much changed. And he
worships the very ground our young lady stands on. No wonder! what
_would_ he have been but for her and her mother? For neither his father
nor mother can bear the sight of him.'
"`Poor fellow,' said Pierre. `Then _he_ cannot be much of a protector
to our ladies in case of need.'
"`No indeed,' said Madame Delmar. And from that moment Pierre only
thought of his childish enemy with profound pity."