we need not worry about that."
"Oh! he will come, my dear; I am very sure that he will come."
"Why are you so sure of it, pray? what makes you think so?"
"Why--because he looked so happy when you invited him to come; his eyes
expressed such pleasure!"
"Very well! if he comes, we will receive him.--Have you put down my
library?"
"Yes, it's all down. He has a very courteous manner."
"My _étagère_."
"And very _comme il faut_!"
"The small dining-table; we may need it."
"He expresses himself very well."
"And this desk, this blotting-pad."
"How old should you say he was?"
"My blotting-pad?"
"Why, no; Monsieur Edmond Didier."
Madame Dalmont's expression was almost stern as she said:
"My dear girl, don't you propose to think of anything but Monsieur
Edmond?"
"I! Why do you ask me that?"
"Because ever since we came back from the notary's, I suppose you are
not conscious of it, but you have talked of nothing but him; you are
thinking of him all the time."
Agathe blushed to the whites of her eyes and stammered:
"Mon Dieu! if I have talked about that young man, it is only because he
was so obliging to--you, that it seemed to me quite natural to be
grateful to him. But if it displeases you, that is enough; I won't
mention him again."
"Let us not exaggerate things, my dear love; the thing that might
displease me would be to see you thinking too much of a person whom we
hardly know; who showed himself most willing to be of service to us, it
is true; but who is none the less a stranger to us."
"A stranger! why he told us all about his family and his means, and what
he did."
"Yes, that is true; and I noticed that the first use he made of the
sixty thousand francs left him by an uncle, was to leave his place."
"Because he does business on the Bourse now."
"It would have been much wiser of him to keep the place he had.--But
after all, my dear girl, this doesn't concern us. In my judgment, we
have had quite enough to say about this gentleman, and I ask you now
whether you will or will not help me to prepare an inventory of the
furniture I propose to keep?"
"Am I not writing what you tell me to? I am waiting for you to dictate
to me. I won't say another word."
Mademoiselle Agathe had assumed a little pout which made Honorine smile.
They went on with the inventory without a word on any other subject; and
during the rest of the day Edmond's name was not mentioned; but it was
easy to see that Agathe checked herself sometimes as she was on the
point of speaking, probably because it was about him.
Early the next morning the two friends went to the station where they
took the train for Chelles. It was not a long journey, but they had
plenty of time to talk. It was not difficult to discover that the girl
was burning to talk about Edmond, but she dared not; and Honorine, who
could easily read the thoughts of her whom she had almost reared, made a
point of avoiding everything that might lead the conversation to the
young man who had been so obliging to them.
But at sixteen years, a girl has much difficulty in concealing what she
feels, in holding back what she is burning to say. She has not yet
acquired that habit of dissimulation which is the result of experience
and of familiarity with the world.
Agathe, consumed with the longing to recur to her favorite subject, said
abruptly to her companion:
"Do you know, my dear, I believe that I have guessed why Monsieur Edmond
Didier suddenly showed so much zeal in making himself useful to us?"
"Ah! you have guessed why it was? Well, what motives impelled him, do
you think?"
"Why, I think that it was probably because he had fallen in love with
you."
Madame Dalmont turned toward the girl and looked her straight in the
eye.
"Agathe," she said, "you don't mean a word of what you are saying; and
it is not kind to lie to your friend in the hope of concealing your real
thought from her. Instead of that, why not tell her frankly--what I
noticed clearly enough, by the way--that that young man looked at you a
great deal, that his expression seemed to imply that he thought you
pretty, and that you were flattered by it; indeed that it turned your
head a little, so that you have thought of nothing but Monsieur Edmond
from that moment? Come, don't tell me any more falsehoods--have I not
guessed right?"
Agathe quickly hung her head and took her protectress's hand in hers;
and tears began to fall from her eyes. Honorine saw the tears and kissed
the girl affectionately, saying:
"Come, this is all mere childishness, let's say no more about it. You
will readily understand that a young man may show great alacrity in
obliging a person who is most attractive, and the next day forget that
person entirely, because he meets others who fascinate him no less; that
happens every day; and the young person in question would be very
foolish to burden her mind with something which is of no consequence
whatever. But my little Agathe must never again conceal her real
thoughts from her friend by pretending to have other thoughts.--Now let
us think of nothing but the pleasure we are going to have in the
country; and here we are at Chelles already!"
As they were now familiar with the road, they went at once to the
village and to Père Ledrux's.
"My word! I was looking for you," he cried when he saw them, "and it's
well for you that you've come. There's been lots of people to see the
house, everybody wants to buy it; but as I promised you, I haven't shown
it to anybody. I told 'em all sorts of fibs: that it was almost sold,
and this and that; I even refused a good pourboire from a man who wanted
to go over the house; but, I says to myself: 'Those ladies will make up
to me for it.'"
"Hereafter, Monsieur Ledrux, you will not lie when you say that the
house is sold, for the transaction is completed; the house is ours, and
here is a letter from Monsieur Courtivaux, informing you of the fact and
authorizing you to give us the keys; read it."
"Oho! so it's all fixed, is it? Well, my word! I'm mighty glad to hear
it! it makes me feel good. So you've bought it, have you?"
"And paid cash, without even waiting for the mortgages to be discharged;
the notary assured me that I needn't worry about that. But read the
letter."
"Oh! it ain't worth while; I'll trust you. Still, I may as well read it;
it don't cost any more. Yes, yes--that's what it says: 'You will hand
the keys to Madame Dalmont, the new owner.'--And you're Madame Dalmont,
are you?"
"To be sure."
"Then I'll go and get you the keys right away."
"And if you haven't time to come with us this morning, Père Ledrux, we
know the way now, and we can go alone."
"Oh! yes, I can go with you all right; I've nothing pressing to do, and
then, now that the thing's settled and the house is yours, I might as
well take the rabbits right away; then you'll be rid of 'em.
Tutu--tuturlututu."
They soon reached the house they had bought, and already they viewed it
with more pleasure than before.
While the gardener went to take a look at the rabbits and hens, the two
young women entered the house, went through all the rooms, opened the
shutters, looked out of the windows, and began to discuss where they
would place the furniture they were to bring from Paris.
Then Agathe ran into the garden; she examined it more carefully than
before; she called the gardener and made him tell her the name of each
tree and each flower; then she went back to Honorine.
"My dear," she said, "we have peaches, apricots, plums, cherries, grapes
and gooseberries."
"Yes, yes," said Père Ledrux, "you have 'em when they grow, and they
grow when they're well taken care of, well kept, well trimmed. Bless me!
a garden requires care. You'll have string beans too if you plant 'em,
and now's the time, just the right time to plant, if you want
radishes--to tone up the salad--and artichokes."
"Very well; you must plant them, Père Ledrux. You can tell us what we
must buy at Paris and we'll bring you the seeds."
"That ain't worth while; I've got all those things at home or right in
the neighborhood; I'll supply you with what you want, and they'll be
better than you'd get in Paris; because we fellows, you understand, know
more about such things than you do; it's our business. Have you come
to-day for good?"
"No, not yet; we have many things to do in Paris."
"When are you coming?"
"I hope that in a week, at the latest, we shall arrive, with such
furniture as we shall bring from Paris."
"You're going to bring furniture, when it's here already?"
"That makes no difference."
"The devil! the house will be well furnished, in that case."
"But the mere having furniture isn't everything; we need something else
that we can't do without; for the house is quite large."
"What is it?"
"A maid, a servant to keep our house clean and to cook for us."
"Ah! you want a maid who can cook?"
"Who can do everything, if possible."
"Do you want a first-class cook, like Madame Droguet's, who's a--a blue
ribbon, so they say, and makes _soufflés_ and omelettes as big as
balloons?"
"No, no, Père Ledrux, we don't ask for such talent as that; just find us
a smart young girl, who likes to work and can sew a little. As for the
rest, I will teach her what she doesn't know; with the desire to learn,
one soon learns whatever one chooses. Let her be honest and
virtuous--those are the principal points."
"Well--wait--I believe Poucette would just suit you."
"Who is Poucette?"
"She's Poucet's daughter, who used to work in the quarry and was killed
in a cave-in three years ago; her mother died the year before, so the
girl lives with her uncle, who's a farmer; but he has children enough of
his own, and Poucette would be very glad to get a place."
"Very well; if she's a good girl, I will take her."
"As for being good, I'll answer for that; but when it comes to knowing
how to cook, I won't answer for her."
"That makes no difference, I tell you; she will learn. How old is she?"
"Well! she might be about eighteen; but she's strong and solid; she'd
make two of you."
"So much the better. With a strong girl in the house, we shall not be
afraid if we are attacked. Tell me, Père Ledrux, do you think that she
will be able to come to us as soon as we come back? I would like to have
her, for then she could help us to clean house and put everything to
rights. And then, I admit that, for the first few days, I shall be a
little timid if we two are alone."
"Ah! my dear! it seems that I am to be the sensible one here!"
"Oh! don't you pretend to be brave; you're afraid of mice!"
"That's very different; mice climb everywhere."
"Tell me, Père Ledrux, can we count upon this girl for the day of our
arrival?"
"Why, you see, I can't answer as if I was her, or as if I was her uncle;
but I'll tell you what you can do: while you're here, just go and talk
to Poucette; then you'll know what to expect, and whether you can count
on her."
"You are right; that's the better way. But where shall we find this
Poucette?"
"Pardi! at her uncle's, her aunt's husband's. It ain't very far out in
the country; I'll show you the way if you want me to."
"I should be very glad; I like above all things to settle matters on the
spot.--Come, Agathe, let us go to see Mademoiselle Poucette; at the same
time we shall see a little of the country where we are soon to live."
XIX
A FARMER'S COTTAGE
Honorine and Agathe followed the gardener, who walked a few paces in
front of them, constantly humming his little song:
"Tutu--tuturlututu."
They walked for some distance; the peasant stopped from time to time to
point out some pretty house, saying:
"That's where monsieur le maire lives. That's Monsieur le Docteur
Antoine Beaubichon's house; it ain't very large, but he has a nice
vineyard behind--and such pear trees! Well! they bear the finest pears
you ever saw--as big as melons! He gives them to the people he takes
care of. In fact, they came near killing Monsieur Jarnouillard! but you
may say he made a fool of himself, he ate too many of 'em. And deuce
take it! pears are cold for the stomach, especially the grand
duchess!--That's Madame Droguet's house--a fine house--two wings! Oh!
it's a valuable place, I tell you! and kept up! You ought to see it!
There's carpets everywhere, even on the stairs; and everything rubbed
till it shines like a mirror; _estatues_ in the courtyard, vases of
flowers, and a garden, with paths as straight as a string can make 'em;
the box is trimmed so that never a branch sticks out by another. And
there's a fine clump of chestnuts, where you can stand without fear of
the rain; and a basin with a fountain that plays Sundays! Oh! it's
magnificent! One of the finest places anywhere about. But then Madame
Droguet's one of the swells."
"Isn't she the lady," queried Agathe, "who had the resolution to hide
five days in succession among the bushes, to get a close view of the
owner of the Tower?"
"Bah! it was the doctor who told you that. Well, yes, they did say at
the time that she did that; but I didn't see her. Suppose she did: she
was at liberty to hide in the bushes if it amused her; she don't have
anything else to do."
"True; but one must be very inquisitive to pass five days in succession
in the bushes, watching for someone."
"Bless me! she's rich--she can afford to be inquisitive."
"Has the lady a husband?"
"Oh, yes! a little bit of a man. When he's alongside of his wife, you
can't see him, because Madame Droguet's a splendid woman; she's a good
five feet five, and strong in proportion; what you might call a fine
woman!"
"Isn't she supposed to have been a vivandière formerly?"
"Oh! there's another one of the doctor's tales. You know, they say a lot
of things like that in the country,--because Madame Droguet's a little
quick, and when she first came here to live she used to give her
servants a slap now and then; and they never failed to say that she
boxed her husband's ears too, and kicked him in the rump, saving your
presence, when he undertook to oppose her wishes; but that's all
fiddle-faddle!--People saw that she was the mistress in her own house,
that nothing was done there except by her orders, so they said: 'She
must have been a vivandière, she leads her husband about to the beat of
the drum.'--This much is certain, that she's the one that runs the house
and says what's to be done and undone, built and pulled down; the
husband don't meddle in anything. That's why you hear people say 'Madame
Droguet,' and never 'Monsieur Droguet!' But that just suits him; he
seems to be satisfied so long as he can dance."
"Ah! so Monsieur Droguet is fond of dancing? How old is he, pray?"
"I guess he's close on to fifty-five; and his wife, too--she must be as
old as he is, at least."
"Then she gives balls so that her husband may dance?"
"I don't know whether she gives balls, but she gives dinner-parties and
she has lots of company. It seems that they live pretty well there. But
she's sure to invite you; she invites all the swell people in the
neighborhood."
"I don't know whether she will invite us," said Honorine with a smile;
"but it would be a waste of time; for we do not dine out."
"Oh, well! if that's your idea, it's all right. If she invited me, I'd
go; but I ain't enough of a bigwig."
"Are we almost there, Père Ledrux?"
"It's just a little farther; Guillot's house--he's Poucette's uncle--is
on the other side of the river. But this walk shows you something of
Chelles."
"Do we pass the ruins of the Abbey?"
"No, they ain't on our road; after all, you don't see anything of the
Abbey; it's been made into a farm-house, and there isn't anything very
interesting about it; there's only a few old walls left. But we're going
to pass Monsieur Luminot's house. That's another nice one, I tell you;
not so well kept as Madame Droguet's; but heaps of land behind:
vineyards, arbors, and lots of white grapes."
"Isn't he the gentleman who went to call on the owner of the Tower, to
invite him to dinner?"
"Yes; he's a high-liver, is Monsieur Luminot--used to be a
wine-merchant; he always has good stuff in his cellar, and he's never
stingy about a glass of wine. He's a friend of Madame Droguet and often
dines there."
"Does he dance with Monsieur Droguet?"
"I couldn't tell you. I don't believe he's a dancer, he's too fat for
that; while Monsieur Droguet, who is very short and thin, keeps his feet
going all the time he's talking to you, just exactly as if he had the
St. Vitus's dance. He must have had it when he was small, and never got
wholly rid of it. He went to Paris not long ago, on purpose to learn a
new dance that's all the fashion, so they say--the lance--lances----"
"Lancers?"
"That's it, mamzelle, the lancers! and when he came back, he couldn't
sleep for a number of nights; he used to get up and dance the lancers
with his chamber-vessel, so that he woke the whole house, and Madame
Droguet was obliged to get angry.--Ah! there's Monsieur Jarnouillard's
house."
"The gentleman who ate too many pears?"
"Yes, mamzelle. It isn't very large, but there's only the husband and
wife; no children and no servants; Madame Jarnouillard does all the
work. But people say they've got enough, that they're rich; and what
makes 'em think so is that Monsieur Jarnouillard lends money to people
who are hard up and are able to pay it back--who have chattels and land,
as he says. If you haven't got those things, there's no danger of his
accommodating you; and anyway he charges interest that makes you
shudder!"
"The man's a usurer then, is he?"
"Faith! I can't say as to that. They say that he used to be a tradesman
in Paris, with a shop on Quai des Lunettes. I don't know what kind of
_lunettes_--spectacles--he sold, but he must have made a good thing out
of it. They ain't liked hereabout, and yet people are very glad to have
'em here; because those who get into difficulty, who need money to pay
their rent or to take up a note, go to see Monsieur Jarnouillard, and he
lends 'em the money--provided he can make a pretty profit out of it.
Still, they're people who don't put on any airs, and the Lord only knows
what they live on. The wife buys one mutton cutlet for herself and her
husband. Bless me! but they're miserly! they eat crusts of bread, old
roosters, and fish the husband catches in the Marne; in fact, he's been
arrested twice for fishing without a permit. In summer he tries to catch
birds with birdlime; they eat whatever he catches; but when they dine
out they near kill themselves with indigestion; and besides that, Madame
Droguet's maid tells me that they stuff their pockets with things from
the table. Ha! ha! that gives them a royal feast the next day. But you
understand that all I'm telling you is just gossip; I don't bear those
people any grudge; I don't want anything of 'em.--Tutu--tutu--turlututu."
"Ah! my dear Agathe!" said Honorine in a low tone, "people are no more
generous in the country than in the city, and he would be bitterly
disappointed who should go into the country to live, in the hope of
finding purer morals, more agreeable relations, more sincere
friendships, and more obliging neighbors! No, men are the same
everywhere; but their failings, their vices show more plainly in small
places than in the large cities. The only thing one can be certain of
having in the country is pure air."
"There's Guillot's house!" said the gardener, halting in front of a
wretched hovel of earth and stones, the roof of which was in such bad
condition in several places that when it rained the occupants were but
partially sheltered.
There was a small garden, hardly separated from the fields by a scrubby
hedge of elder-bushes, at the right of the hovel, and in it a few
stunted trees shading cabbages and potatoes. Everything was growing
haphazard in the little enclosure, which seemed in as wretched a
condition as the house.
The two women entered a large room, which was not floored either with
flags or boards. It was used as a kitchen, and also as a bedroom, for
there was a dilapidated cot in one corner. On the walls, innocent of
paper, hung divers kitchen utensils; there were also shelves, upon which
were dishes, mainly earthen bowls.
A large walnut _buffet_, several chairs without seats, some stools and a
table composed all the furniture of that room, which, moreover, was not
very clean and presented an appearance of wretchedness that made the
heart ache.
And yet that hovel sheltered a whole family: Guillot the farmer, his
wife and four children, the eldest of whom was only eleven, while the
youngest still lay in his mother's arms, and another, two years old,
still dragged at her skirts.
Nevertheless it was in that family, whose head earned barely enough to
support his own children, that Poucette was made welcome. The worthy man
considered that his niece, being an orphan, was also his child; and he
took her into his home.
"I will try to work a little harder," he thought, "and God will
provide."
If the country people are envious and evil-speaking, we also find among
them such touching examples as this of humanity and kindliness: the
latter should induce us to forgive the former.
When Agathe and Honorine entered the house, the farmer's wife was
nursing her youngest child; another little fellow was rolling on the
ground, gnawing a piece of black bread. By the fire, a girl of eight was
trying to make the water boil in the kettle by blowing with her breath
two or three small sticks that smouldered on the hearth. The two young
women stood lost in amazement at the sight of those wretchedly-clad
children in that tumble-down hovel. The picture of destitution is always
more painful to look upon when it embraces children.
Guillot's wife looked up with a surprised expression at the two ladies
who had entered her home; but it did not interfere with her maternal
duties.
A moment later, however, Ledrux put his head in at the door and shouted,
as if he were speaking to deaf people--as was his habit with everybody:
"I've brought these ladies to see you, Mère Guillot; they're the ones
who've bought Monsieur Courtivaux's house, and they're coming to live in
it. They're looking for a girl to do their housework and their cooking;
in fact, the whole business; and I thought of Poucette, who hasn't got
any place. Would it suit you to have her work for these ladies, who are
bourgeoises and well off----"
Honorine interrupted the gardener.
"Madame," she said, "we are told that your niece is a good girl, and we
will treat her so that she will be happy with us; but if she is useful
to you, if you prefer to keep her with you, we will look elsewhere."
"Oh! Poucette ain't so very necessary to us," replied the peasant;
"because Claudine, our oldest, is old enough to look after her little
brothers while I go to work in the fields."
"Is that Claudine?" asked Honorine, looking at the child who was still
blowing the sticks with all her strength.
"No, that's Mariette, our second one; Claudine's eleven; she's big and
strong. As for Poucette, she's a good girl, but let me tell you, if you
count on her to do your cooking, why you mustn't expect too much! Well!
she ain't very subtle about cooking."
Honorine smiled at the word "subtle" which the peasants are very fond of
using, often without any clear idea of its meaning.
"I am not disturbed about that," she replied. "All I shall ask of
Poucette are zeal and willingness."
"Oh! as far as that goes, she's got plenty. And you will give her her
keep?"
"Naturally."
"And her washing?"
"She will have to spend nothing but for clothes; and Agathe and I will
often find something to give her among our old dresses."
"I will give her my blue striped dress at once," said Agathe, "for it's
too small for me. I am still growing."
"If it's too small for you, it will be even smaller for Poucette, who's
taller than you," said Père Ledrux, with a laugh.
"Oh! that don't make any difference," rejoined the farmer's wife;
"dresses can be let down and pieced out; we ain't ladies, you know. How
much will madame pay my niece to do her work?"
"Tell me yourself what you think it will be worth."
"Bless me! if the girl has her lodging and keep and washing, it seems to
me that if you give her a ten-franc piece every month she'll be
satisfied. Do you think that's too much?"
"No, it's not too much; and I promise you to increase her wages if she
serves me faithfully."
"Then it's all fixed, unless Poucette don't want to go into service; but
if she don't want to, why, we wouldn't like to vex the child. She'd
think we was doing it to get rid of her; she'd think we didn't love her
any more; and that would make her unhappy, and us too!"