'C?Si^^ THE . A EOMAÎTCE OP A Poor Young Man A NEWLY REVISED AND CORRECTED EDITION. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF OCTAVE FEUILLET. RICHMOND: WEST & JOHNSTON, » 1863. IV" ^lr«h> George Washington Flowers Memorial Collection DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY OF COLONEL FLOWERS ^^^//è^^ > A NEWLY REVISED AN}3 GORB.ECTKD EDITION TRANSLATED FROM THE FRE^X'H OF OCTAVE FEUILLET, RICHMOND. ' WEST k ,? O ÎÎ N '^ T N ,\\v^i%^^V> <^. "> >ti.CÏARLANE A FJ;r.'.US30.V. PniKTaP.8. -/.- THE PiOMANCE OF A POOR YOUNG MAN. SURSUM CORDA — LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS Paris, April 20, 185 -. This js the second night I have passed in thià wretched chani'ber; gazing with vacant eycp into the empty fireplace, listening unconscious- ly to the noises in the street — a feeling more lonely in this great city, more desolate and despairing than that of the shipwrecked mariner on his piece ot plank in mid-ocean. Away with this weakness! I will look uiy destiny in the face, and thus deprive it of its spectral air ! I will also open my heart to the only confidant whose pity will not offend me, io this last* friend whom I see in my Icoking-glass. I will write my thoughts, and my life, not with a puerile minuteness, but ■without any serious omission, and especially withoat fi\lsehood. I will love this journal j it shall be like a fraternaff echo which shall delude my solitude, and it f-hall be at the same time, a second conscience warn- ing me to do nothing of which I cannot write with a firm hand. I row recall with a sad eagerness a thousand incidents in ii;y life, the meaning of which I should have understood long ago, had not my eyes been shut by filial respect, and the indifference of a happy idleness. The constant and profoulid melancholy of my mother is explained to me; I also understand her distaste of the world and her simple dress, the object of so much raillery and even anger on mj father's part ; ''You look like a servant," he once said to her. Our domestic life was often disturbed by serious disputes between my father and mother, though I was never an actual witnesser of them, liis irritated and imperious tones, my mothers supplicating voice i:i reply, and her atifflcl sobs, were all I could hear. 1 attributed these quarrels to my father's vicient and fruitless efforta to reawaken in my mother a taste for scenes of gaiety and display, which she had once loved as much as one of her gentle nature couid love them, but into which she accompanied my father with more and more repugnance. After each of these periodical disputes, my father seldom failed to buy some bcautifcil article of jewelry, which my moth- er would find placed under her napkin at table, but which she never \Tore. One day in the middle of winter she received from Parw a •^ The Momar.ce of a Poor Young Man. lavge bcki of jewels; sîie thunked my father for the <>ift "with grertt warinth, but vvhen ho had left the room, I saw her clasp her hari'ls ■with a look of utter despair. , During' my childhood and early growth I had-great respect but little aflfcctioa for my father.. I knew only the gloomy side of his charac- ter; it was that only which he exhibited in private life, for which l.e was so little fitted. But when I was old enough to go with him into so- •ciety, I was surprised and delif:hted to find him a totally different being, whose existence I had not suspected. It seemed as if he were under some spell when at home; once outside the walls of our old chateau, his face would light up, his chest wonld expand, and ho was young again. "Come, Maximilian," he would say, "now for a gallop!" And we would dash gaily forward,- with joyous shouts. Plis boyish enthusiasm, his witty fancies, charmed my young heart, and I xiften wi.^hcd to be able to carry a portion of our happiness to niy poor mother, forgotten in lier chamber corner.. The love I began to feel for my father became most enthusiastic ad- miration when 1 saw him in the gay world : whether hunting, driviiitr, at ba-lls, or dinner parties, his finished elegance and polished wit made liim shine on all occasions. An adniirablc horseman, & skilful player, a brilliant talker, coura- geous and openhanded, Ï looked upon him as a perfect type of martjy grace anxl chivalry. lie called himself with a bitter sniilo, " the laeî gentleman." Such was my father in society; at our own fireside, my mother and I his fole companions, he was a restless, stern and passion- ate old man. . » The transports of anger that rny father displayed towards one so gentle and delicate as my mothej-, would have shocked me, had they not been followed by rodonbled tenderness, and the affectionate atten- tions of which I Tiave already spoken. Justified 'in my eyes by these toke«is of repentance, my father seemed to me a man wliose natural good- temper was exasperated by an obstinate and systematic opposition to his tastes and prejudices. I believe my mother afliicted with sonift nervous disease; niy father had intimated as much to me, though with a reserve v^hich I respected. I could not so clearly define to myself the sentiment with which my mother regarded my father. She would gaze on him with an expres- sion of severity and reproach, but an instant ai'terward her beautilul eyes v/ould moisten, her sweet fticc would wear a look of the tendcrest devotion. My mother was married at fiffcen, and I was in' my twenty-second year when my sister, my popr Helen, was born. One hiornln^, a thors time after her birth, my father came from my mtyther's sick-room with an anxious countenance, and beckoned me to fodow him into the gar- den. After taking two or three turns up and down in silence, he sto|>- ped suddenly and addressed me: " 3Iaximilian! your mother grows more and more peculiar!" " She is a great sufferer, dear father " " Yes, doubtless, but she has now taken a strange whim; she wishes you to eomuQence the .study of law." The Ronmnes of \i Poor Young Man. 5 " Study law Î How can inj mother wish me, with my birth and po- sition, to <,'o to $chool again ! That ^^oukl be ridiculous." " lagree with you/'. said my either coldly; "but your mother is ill, that is all." I wa.s a coxcomb, proud of my name, of my importance, and my suc- cess in society, but I adored my mother, between whom and myself there existed the warmest sympathy, and I went at once to assure her of my compliance with her wishes. She thanked me with a sad smile, a;vd made me kibs my sistef who was sleeping in her lap. We lived only half a league from Grenoble; I could therefore attend the Law School there without» leaving home. My niother questioned me daily about my progrcf;s in my studies with such peiscvcring and i^.tense interest, that I was forced to ask myscU if there was not some- thing at the bottom of this extraordinary proposition more than the fancy of a sick, nervous woman; if possibly my father's aversion to all business matters had r.ot caused some loss of fortune, or at lea,«t sonic confusion in our aifairs, which my mother hoped I might repair through my legal knowledge and business habits. This suspicion daily grew stronger; I now recollected hearing my father lament bitterly the losso.=? h.Q sustained at the time of the revolution, but such complaints had ceased long ago; I thoiiglit them quite unjustifiable at the time, for ouv fortune seemed to me most ample. The old chateau in which we lived. near Grenoble, had descended from father to son, and was the boast of the country. My father and I -oi'ten hunted the whole day, without quitting our own grounds. Our stables were very extensive and always tilled with fine horses, of which my father was as proud as lu was pas- sionately fond. We had besides an elegant hotel in Paris on the Bou- levard des Capuchins,' in which a suite of apartments, were kept solclvt for our own use. Our /able was always served with every delicacy, and !;othing in our establishment gave the least indication of expediency even, much less of poverty. Not long after this my mother's health began surely, but almost im- perceptibly, to decline. Ilcr character changed strangely; instead of her former angelic sweetness, she became bitter and aggressive; I could î:ot leave the chateau without my absence being made the subject of some sarcastic and painful comment. IMy father, who was as little .spared as myself, bore these attacks very patiently, but they had the effect of causing him to spend less time at home than formerly. lie evidently felt the need of constant diversion, and he always desired me f ) accompany him. My love of pleasure, the ardor of my youth, and ■J)(<\'Q all. the weakness of my heart, made me j'ield to him a too ready compliance. One day in September, 185-, my father and I went to see the racc5, which were to take place a short distance from the chateau. He had .several hordes enterad to run on that day, and wc went early in the morning and breakfasted on the course. Towards thn middle of the day I was met, as I galloped backwards and forwards on the turf to watch the race, by one of our servants, who said he had been seeking r.te for half an hour; that my father had already gene home, whither 6 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. he desired n)e to follow him wrthout delay. "What has happened? tell me in heaven's name !" said I. "I believe madame is much worse," replied the man. On hearing this, I rode homewards like one distracted. "When I reached the chateau I saw my sister playing by herself on the turf in the largfe court. She ran up to me as I dismounted li-om jny horse, and as she kissed me, said with a mysterious but merry air :' " The Curate has come !" I h«stened into the house, where, however, I could not perceive any unusual bustle or confusion, and ascended the staircase with all speed. As I entered the dressing-room communicating with my mother's cham- ber, the door opened softly and my father came out. His face was very pale and his lips trembled. " Maximilian," said he, without raising his eyes, "your mother asks for you." I wished to question him, but he motioned me away, and approached a window as if to look out. I entered my mother's room, and found her reclining on the sofa with her eyes closed, while one arm hung motionless by her side. Her face was very pale, but it had suddenly regained all the esquisitc sweet- ness and delicate beauty of which her extreme suffering had lately de- prived it. The Angel of Death already overshadowed her with his wings ! . " I fell on my knees beside her. She opened her eyes, and raising her head with great difficulty, fixed upon me a long, tender look, Then in a scarcely audible voice, she breathed these broken words : " Poor, child — I am leaving thee — but do not weep. Thou has left me alone all this time; but I have been so unkind! We shall meet again, my son — we shall then understand each other. Remind thy father of what he promised me. Be thou strong in the battle of life, but pardon those who are weak." Sh3 sank back exhausted for a moment, then rousing herself with an effort, raised her finger and looking earnestly at me, said ;■ " Thy sister !" Her blue eyes closed; suddenly opening them, she threw her arn}S upwards. I uttered a piercing cry, and my father rushed into the room,"but only to clasp, with choking sobs, her lifeless body to his bosom. ■ Several w-eeks later my father desired me, in obedience to the last; wishes of her whom we so bitterly mourned, to sot out on my travels. I quitted France and commenced the wan^dering life I have led up to this day. During a year's absence I often longed to return home, but my father had fixed the exact time of my travels, and I had beeu taught to regard his wishes. His letters were affectionate, but brief, and had never expressed the least impatience for my return. I was therefore greatly alarmed to find, on disembarking at Marseilles, two months ago, several letters from my father recalling me home with feverish haste. It was^a gloomy night in February, when I saw once more the mas- sive Wîvlls of our old chateau. A bitter, freezing north wind blew at intervals, and flakes of sleeting snow fell upon the wet ground with a sad feeble sound, like the dead leaves of autumn. On entering the ' The Romance of a Poor Young 3Tan. 7 court yard, I saw a shadow against one of the windows of the large saloon, which had not been used for some months previous to my mother's death. I entered quickly j on seeing me, my father uttered a low cscuimation, then clasped me to his breast, and T felt his heart beat violently. " ïhou art frozen, my poor child," said he, addressing mc in the second person, contrary to his usual custom. '' Warm thyself. This room is cold, but 1 prefer it to all the others; one can at least breathe here." " IIow is your health, diTar father?" " Tolerable, as thou seest." And leaving me near the fireplace of this immense room which two or three wax candles barely lighted, he recommenced the walk which T had apparently interrupted. This strange reception filled nic with alarm, and I gazed anxiously at ray father. , " Hast thou seen my horses?'' said he suddenly, without checking his steps. " Father !" " Ah ! true, thou hast but just arrived." After a pause he resumed, "Maximilian, I wish to speak to you." " I am listening to you, father." He seemed not to hear me, but paced up and down the room repeat- ing at intervals, '' I wish to speak to you, nry son." .At length, passing his hand over his head, he sighed heavily, and. seating himself abruptly, motioned me to a chair opposite. Then, as if he wished to speak, but lacked the courage to do so, his eyes sought mine with an espres.sion of anguish, humility, and supplication, which, in a man as proud as my father, touched me deeply. I could not but feel that wliàtever faults he had committed, the confession of which xras so painful, he had fully expiated them. Suddenly his eyes lost all expression, he grasped my arm, rose from his seat, and then fell heavi- ly on the carpet. He was dead I The heart does not reiison, nor calculate; it divines. I now under- stood the whole : one moment had sufficed to reveal to me without a word of explanation, by an irresistible ray of light, this fatal truth, which a thousand incidents repeated under my eyes every diiy for twen- ty year.s, had not made me suspect. 1 kne\^ that we were ruined, that the storm would soon burst over my head. Weill I am certain that my father could not have been more bitterly wept had he left me loaded with fortune's favors. To my deep sorrow was added a feeling of profound pity; I saw constantly before me that look of supplication and humiliation ; I was in despair ;;t not i\^v;ng been aide to speak one word of consolation to that broken heart, and I cried wildly to him who could no longer hear, " I forgive you ! I forgive you !" As well as I could conjecture, my father promised my mother in their last sad interview to sell the greater part of his property, and to pay the enormous load of debt he had contracted, having spent much ^ more than his income, for many years past, and to live on the remain- der whatever it might inc. My father had kept his promise so far as lo sell the timber and a portion of his landed ei^tatc ; but only an in- >-■ The Romance of a Poor Young Man. considerable debt was paid vrith tlie proceeds-; once the possessor of so hrgc a sum of ready nioiiey he could not resist the fatal teniptutious of the Ijoursc ; his etock speculations proved disastrous, i.tnd thus his ruin was complete. I had not yet sounded the depths of misevy into which wc are pluuf^cd. I fell ill the nest week after my father's death, and recov- ered barely in time to leave our old h^editary chateau before a stran- ;zfr, one of the creditors, took possession. Fortunately for me an old Iriciid of my mother, a notary living. at Paris, and who formerly had chari^c of our aifair-s, came forward arid oSered to' undertake the task of liquidation. I placed the matter in his hands, giving him uncondi- tional power to act. and I suppose his labors are ended to-clay. As soon .-is I reached Paris, yesterday, I v.'Cnt to see him, but he had gone into the country and will not return till to-morrow. Suopense is hard to bear ; these two days have been long and weary. It would have aston- ished rue to be, told ten years ago that this old -notary, whose forroal v.nà. precise language amused my father and me so greatly, would be, one day, a sort of oracle from whom I was to learn n)y destiny. I have tried to cherish no false hopes ; I have calculated that when till the debts are paid there will remain a hundred and twenty, or a hundred and fifty thousand francs. It is impossible that out of a for- tune of five millions of francs there will not be at least this small sum left. I will take ten thousand francs for iiiy portion and will go to seek my fortune in the United States, leaving the re^-t'for my little sister. I will write no longer to-night. But my sad occupation-has restored , my eafmne'ss somewhafcj depressing as may have been the incidents I have recalled. , / To labor is certainl}' a divine law, since labor brings contentment with it; yet nvm loves it not, and while each day he enjoys the good it brings, each day he goes to it with the same repugnance. There is .some strange and mysterious contradiction in thi.s, as if we felt at once that it is a penalty imposed on us, while we acknowledge the divine and paternal character of the Judge. Thursdai/. On awaking this morning the servant handed me a letter from the old notary, Mr. Laubepin. It contained an invitation to diniu;r, when he would inform tue of his progress in settling my affairs, and ended JDy begging my pardon for the liberty he took. This circumspection a;:- gurs ill for hie. In order to pass away the time till the hour fixed for dinner, I went to tbc convent where my sister is, and took her out for a walk. The child knyws nothing of our misfortunes, our ruin. She has been in- dulging various costly whims in the course ci' the day. She has bought a largo supply of gloves, of rose-colored pap^-r, bon-bons for her friendii, essences, and wonderful soaps, all very useful things, doubtless, butlcs-js essential than a good dinner ! At six o'clock, I reached Mr. Laubepin's hou.^c, in Cassolta street. The Romance of a Poor Young Man. i* 1 do not know our old friend's ^ga, but I do not rcineniber liim look ing otherwisn than he did to-daj ; tall, but slightly bent, Ins ^vhitc hair oareles>>ly brushed, a clear, piercing eye, looking out from under thick biack eyebrows, and- a ph3>ique both vigorous and refined. His d res:' is always the same ; a black coat of some antique fashion, a professional vhite cravat, with an old family diamond pin in his bosom, arc the ex- ternal .'•igns of a methodical, grave mind, and a lover of traditions. The old gentleman was awaiting nio at the open door of his little par- lor; with a low bow he took my hand lightly between two fingers and led me lïp to an old lady who was standing in front of the fireplace, ;i'.id said gravely and empKatically : " The Marquis do Champcey d'- llauterivel" then turning toward me, in an liambler voice, said : " Ma- damo Laubepin.' -There was a moment's embarrassed silence after w< wore seated. I had supposed ho would at once open our business mat- ters; seeing he delayed the communication, I concluded i.niust be still more disagreeable for me to hear than 1 had expected.- This idea wa;^ confirmed by the compassionate glances of Mrs. Laubepin, while in the keen looks with which the notary regarded mo, I thought 1 could detect à spice of malice. I now rejne.nbered hearing niy father call the polite, respectful notary, a Jacobin at heart, and I inwardly accu- sed him of gratilyiug his secret anti[.athy to tho nobility by prolonging the torture of suspense of one of tlrat hated class. This thought roua- <'d my pride of rank,' and determining to hide my suffering under lightness of.spcech, 1 addressed Mr. Laubepin ; " Why did you leave your house in the Place des Petits Pères ? 1 .in surprised, Isiw Laubepin. I couli never have believed you would ior.«ake the dear place!" / " Tt is an act of disloyalty unworthy t)f my age, Maiqui,^, but wbc:i 1 gave up my profession, I thought it best to give up my office also," replied Laubepin. "What ! have you retired from active life?" I demanded. " Ye:^. Marquis; from all public and official bu^ine-^s, but th re aro sever;; honorable and influential families whoso confidence I have had tl, - honor to obtain durin^ç a practice of forty-five years, who still seek ray advice in all delicate and private matters, and, 1 may add, they seldom regret following it'-" As Mr. Laubepin finished rendering himself this just praise, an old servant announced the dinner. I had the honor of condnctin»: Mrs. Laubepin to the table. The conversation during dinner, wa-' upon the most trivial topics, but Mr. lisubcpin frequently looked at m with the sam^ equivocal oxprcs.'^ion, and whenever his wife adiVrcBse': mo. it was' in the sorrowful, pitying tone so often used in a sick-rooi:: At length wo ro-o from table, and the old notary led tho way ir.*.. his study, where coffee was soon served. T^, I, rpj mo to be seated, and leaning against the mantelpiece .ivi "r ' i:ic thus : " You have done me the honor, I^îarqui.^. to charge vr^c T^ith the la- bor of liquidating tho estate of your father, the late Marquis de ^hanjpccy d' Ilauterivc. I wcs about to write to you yesterday, whcr 10 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. T heard of your arrival in Paris. Permit me now to state to you the result of uiy investigations." " I perceive, sir, 3'ou have bad news to tell me." '• Yes, sir, and you will need to summon all your courage to hoar it, but I must proceed methodically. la the year 1820, Miss Louise Helen Pugaid Delatouche d'Eronvllle was sought in marriage by rh'arles Christian Odiot, Marquis de Ghampcey d'IIauterive. Intrust- ed as I had been for years with the management of the affairs of the Dagald Pelatouche family, and long since admitted to the confidence of the young heiress on a footing of respectful familiarity, I used every argument in m}' power to oppose her affection for the 3Iarquis, and to prevent the sad alliance. 1 say sad alliance^ not because the fortune of de Champcey was not equal to that of Mile. Delatouche in spite of several mortgages with which it was ahready burdened; but I knew the character, the hereditary temperament, so to speak, of M. de Champcey. Beneath the chivalrous and attractive bearing which dis- tinguished him, as well as all others of his house, I clearly perceived his unreflecting obstinacy, his incurable frivolity, his passionate love of pleasure, and finally his supreme egotism" — " Sir," said I, suddenly interrupting him, " the memory of my father is sacred to me, and must be respected by those who speak of him in my presence." ' "I re.spect this sentiment in you, Mr. Marquis," replied the notary with sudden emotion, "but in speaking of your father, I cannot forget that I speak of the man who killed your mother, that heroic woman, that saint, that angel !". . I rose from my seat in great agitation. Mr. Laubepin, who had taken several steps across the room, caught my arm".. " Pardon inc, young man," said he,- " I loved your mother, I have wept for her ! I pray you to pardon mè." And again placing himself before the fire, he resumed, in his ordinary solemn tone, " I had the honor and the chagrin to draw up your mother's marriage contract. Contrary to my earnest prayers, there was no marriage settlement, and it was with great difficulty that I was permitted to introduce into the instrument a pro- tecting clause declaring oncfliird of your mother's real estate inaliena- ble without her legally expressed consent. Vain precaution, Jlarquis, and L might say, cruel precaution of a badly inspired friendship, which, instead of proving a means of protection, only prepared for her the keenest torments ! I mean those struggles, those violent disputes, the sounds of v.'hich must have reached your ears more than once, and in which jour unfortunate mother lost, piece by piece, the last of her pat-" rimony and her children's bread !" " Sir ! I beg of you": "T obey, Mr. Marquis — I will speak only of the present !" " To take such a step, sir, would be to outrage my father's memory, and I refuse." Mr. Laubepin, after giving me one of his inquisitive glances, resum- ed : '' You arc aware that in default of making use of this legal right, you will remain lialjle for the debts of the estate, even when these ex- ceed the value of the property. Now I have the painful duty of tell- The Romance of a 'Poor Young Man. 11 ing you, sir, that this is precisely the case in the present instance. As you will sec on examining this bundle of papers, it is perfectly certain, that after the sale of your hotel, on bcttfi terms than we can reasona- bly hope for, you and your sister will remain indebted to your father's creditors in the sum of forty-five thousand francs." I was literally thunder-struck by this statement, which exceeded ri)y •worst apprehensions. For a moment, I neither saw the clock on which my vacant eyes were fixed, nor heard its ticking. '' Now," said Laubcpin, after a short silence, " I must inform y^ i that your mother, foreseeing the possibility of that which has*takea place, deposited with me some jewels, the value of which is estimated at about fifty thousand francs. In order to prevent this small sum, your only resource in the future, from falling into the hands of the creditors, you must employ the legal subterfuge of which I have t.\- ready spoken." " But that is out of the question, sir. I am only too happy to be able, with this unlooked for means, to pay my father's debts in fuTl, and I beg you to use it for that purpose." Mr. Laubcpin bowed slightly. "As you please," said he, "but T cannot refrain from observing to you tliat when the trust now in my hands has been thus applied, there will on]y remain, as the whole for- tune of Miss Helen and yourself, the sum of between four and five thousand livres, which, at the usual rate of interest, will give 3'ou ri yearly income of two hundred and twenty-five francs. This being set- tled, will you permit me, Marquis, as a respectful and confidential friend, to ask if you have any other means of gaining a livelihood fcr your sister and yourself, and what are your plans ?" '' I have no plans, sir. Those which I had formed are irreconcilable with the absolute poverty to which I am reduced. If I were alone iu the world, I should enlist in the army; but I cannot forsake my sister, nor allow' her to want. She is now very happy in the convent, and is young enough to remain there some years longer. I woiiM engage,' with all my. heart, in any occupation which would allow me, by prac- tising the closest economy, to pay my sister's expenses at the convent and to lay up something each year for her dowry." Mr. Laubcpin looked at me steadily. "In otder to attain this de- sirable and honorable end," said he, "you must not think, Marquis, cf entering the slow path 0! political life, or seeking an office under gov- ernment. You ought to have employment which will give you frora the first an income of five or six thousand francs a year. I need no* tell you that in our present social .state, something else is necessary to gain this desideratum, than merely to stj'otch out one's band ! Mapp:-' ly, I have some propositions to lay before you that may, at once, ai i without any great effort on your part, better your position." Then, fixing his eyes on me with a more penetnuing look than ever, he ceh- tinued : "In the first place, Marquis, a rich speculatDr has conccivo*! the idea of a grand enlerprise, the nature of which shall lie txjil.iined tg you hereafter, which cannot succeed without the special roncurrcnee of the aristocracy. He thinks tJiat a name, ancient and illustrions a« yours, figuring amongst those of the promoters of the enterprise. vi'.A l'A The Romance of a Poor Yowng Man. ga,iu it a fiivorable reception amoiip; that class of the public to •whîcl; lae prospectus will be specially addrcsBcd As a premium for this use of your name, he offers you oiic-tersth of the stock, the value of which ifl estimated from the first at ten thousand francs, and would probably be tripled by the success of the operations. Besides" " Enough,' sir; such disgraceful proposals are not worth the trouble of statin;^; them/' A ray of light shot from the eye of the old man, and a slight smile "was jisible on his dried and wrinkled face. "If the proposition displeases you, sir, it displeases me no less; at tlio.same time it was my duty to submit it to you. I have another ■which will perhaps make you smile, but which is much more suitable. One of my oldest clients is a merchant who retired from business a short time ago, and who lives in great comfort with an only and be- loved daughter. lïis annual income cannot be less than twenty five thousand livres. This young lady chanced to hear of your misfortunes three days ago; she is pretty, and is, besides, a moat estimable person ; I believe, nay, I have been assured, that she would not hesitate one mcmeut to accept your hand and the title of the Marchioness of Ohampccy. The father consents, and I wait only one word from you, Marquis, to tell you the name and residence of this interesting family," " Sir, this decides me; from to-morrow I will lay aside a title whicl? in. my situation is only a mockery, and which, moreover, seems to ex- pose me to the most miserable intrigues. My family name is Odiot :, henceforth I will bear no other. Now, sir, while I recognize and thank you for the warm interest in mo which could alone have induced yoii to listen to such proposals as you have laid before me, I beg you to spare nie all others of a^ike character.'"' " In that case, Marquis/' replied Laubcpin, ■'\ have no other propo- oils to make to you." Tiien, as if seized with a sudden fit of merriment, he rubbed his bands together, making a sound like tearing parchment, and laughed, an he said : " ^ou will be a difficult man to deal with, Mr. Masimilian Î Ah — ah! very difiicult indeed! It is very extraordinary, sir, that I did not observe sooner the striking resemblance you bear to your mo- ther. The eyes and the smile, in partit:ular — but we must not wander from our subject. Since you choose to gain your livelihood by honor- able lal.ior, allow me to ask what your abilities are, and what you are .^tted lor?" '' My education has njiturally been that of a man destined to wealth and ease. I have studied law, however, and have even been admitted to the bar." . "A lawyer? The devil! You a lawyer! But being admitted to the bar is not enough ; in a legal career, more than in any other, it is necessary to prove onoself a man. Let us sec — are you a fluent speaker, Marquis?" " So far from it, I believe myself wholly incapable of extemporizing two sentences in public. ''Ham! then your vocation is not precisely that .of an advocate. You u-ust turn in aomc other direction, bat the subject dènïands reflec- ■ The Romance oj a Pocv Young 31an. 13 lion. I see, besides, that you are fatigued. Jlcrc s.v tation for picturesque scenery which the old Armorica enjoys in the world. A flat country, green and monotonous, with eternal apple-trees in eternal meadows, tne ditches and wooded-slopes bounding the view ou both sides. of the road, or, at most, showing little corners^ of rural grace : blouses and glazed hats to animate these " vulgar pictures" — all this caused me strongly to think that the old, poetic Brittany was only .a pretentious and even pitiful sister of Lower Norma^ndy. Weary of cheats and apple-trees, I had ceased for an hour to pay the Ica.'^t at- t'^ption to the landscape, and had fallen into a doze when Ï via? roused ff the unusual pitching forward of our heavy vehicle; at the same time the pace of the horses slackened sensibly, and a noise of old iron, accompanied by a peculiar friction, announced to mc that the condac* 22 The Romance of a Poor ^ Young Man. tor was puttitfg the shoe on the wheel of the diligence. An old lady, who was seated near me, seized ray arm with that lively sympathy which a community of danger gives birth to. I put my head out of the door j we were descending between two high banks, a steep declivity — the notion of some engineer who was too great a friend of the straight line. With the wheels of the dili- gence half sliding, half rolling, we were not long in finding ourselves in a narrow^ gloomy valley, at the bottom of which a little stream ran sadly and noiselessly among thick reeds; ov^ tbese shaking banks hung some old trunks of trees, twisted together and covered with moes. The road crossed the stream on a bridge of a single arch, and ascend- ed the opposite hill, then passed over a vast heath, arid and absolutely * , bai*e, which reached to the verge of the horizon in front of us. By the side of the road and near the bridge stood a ruined house, the look of utter desolation of which struck the heart. A robust young man was cutting wood before the door; a black string fastened his long, light yellow hair behind. He raised his head, and I was surprised at the strange character of his features, at the calm look of his blue eyes; he saluted me in an unknown language, tvittf a sweet but uncultivated accent. A woman sat at the window of the cottage spinning ; her head- dt-ess and the cut of her garments reproduced with th'eatrical exactness a picture of the stone images one sees reposing on tombs. These peo- ple had not the appearance of peasants; they had to a high degree that easy, gracious, and dignified bearing that is known as l'air distin- gue. Their physiognomy wore that sad and dreamy expression that I have often remarked with emotion among those people whose national- ity is lost. ' ■ I got out of the diligence and walked up the hill. The heath ex- tended all around me further than I could see ; everywhere htingry rushes were tangled over a black earth ; here and there were ravines, abandoned quarries, a few rocks .breaking through the ground ; not a single tree. But when I reached the plateau I saw on my right the ^rk line of the heath cut in the distance, a band of the horizon more distant yet, slightly indented, blue as the sea, flooded with sunlight and which seemed to open in the midst of this desolatç place the sudden perspective of some shining and fairy region : this was Brittany. I had to hive a man in the little village of to take me the two leagues yet remaining of my journey. During this long slow drive I have an indistinct remembrance qf seeing pass under my eyes, woods, lakes, and oases of fresh verdure concealed in the valleys ; but on ap- praching the Chateau de Laroque, I was filled with a thousand painful thoughts. which left little place for the impressions of the tourist. . • A few moments later and I should enter an unknown family on a footing of a sort of disguised servitude, with a title which would hard- ly secure me. the. consideration and respect of the menials of the house; this was new for me. At the moment when Mr. Laubepin proposed to me this situation of steward, all my instincts, all my habits rose in T*»-- bellion against the character of dependence particularly attached '-ij such an office. T believed, however, that I could not refuse without inflicting a wound and discouraging the eager efforts of my old friend ^he Romance of a Poor Young Man.' 23 an my favor. Besides, I could not hope to obtain for several years, in a more independent position, the advantages which this offered me from the beginning, and which permitted me to work at once for my sister's future benefit. I therefore subdued my repugnance, my prejudices; but they had* been very keen, and they were reawakened with more strength when I was face to face with the reality. I repeated to my- self that there is no situation so humble that personal dignity cannot sustain itself, and even elevate the place. Then I marked out my plan of conduct toward the members of the Laroque family, promising my- self to display a conscientious zeal for their interests, and a proper deference for their persons, equally removed from servility and rude- ness. But I could not conceal from myself that this last part of my task, the most delicate without contradiction, would be simplified or compli- cated by the special nature of the characters and minds I was about to find myself in contact with. Laubepin was obstinately resenved on this point, though he acknow- ledged that my eagerness to gain information was perfectly reasonable. But at the moment of my departure, he put a confidential letter into my hands, recommending me to tla-ow it into the fire, as soon as I was master of its contents. I took this letter from my portfolio, and stu- died its sibyllic words, which I will copy here exactly : " Chateau de Laeoque (d'Arz). " List of persons who inhabit the above named chateau. " I. Mr. Laroque TLouis Auguste), an octogenarian, head of the family and chief founaer of its fortune, an old sailor, celebrated under the first empire as a licensed privateer; he acquired his wealth upon the sea by honest enterprises of different kinds; for a long time a resi- dent of the colonies. Orjginally from Brittany, he returned to his na- tive province thirty years ago, accompanied by his only son, the late Pierre- Antoine Laroque, husbaud of " II. Mrs. Laroque (Josephine-Clara), daughter-in-law of the above- named; a Creole by birth, aged forty years; indolent and romantic in character ; is fanciful ; an excellent soul. < " III. Miss Laroque (Marguerite Louise), grand-daughter, daugh- ter, and presumptive heiress of the before-named persons, aged twenty years; Creole and Bretonnese; has idle fancies; a fine mind. " IV. Mrs. Aubry, widow of Mr. Aubry, exchange broker, deceased in Belgium; a second cousin, received as an inmate of the house; sour and crabbed. " v. Miss Hclouin (Caroline Gabrille), aged twenty-six ; a former governess, now a companion; mind cultivated; character doubtful. " Burn this." This document has been very useful to me, notwithstanding it? re- serve, for it dissipated my horror of the unknown, the half of my fears. Besides, if there were, as Mr. Laubepin asserted, two beautiful char- acters in the Chateau dc Laroque, it was certainly a greater proportion than one had any right to hope for among its five inhabitants. After two hours' travcllingj the carriage stopped before a barred 24 . , The Romance of a Poor Young Man. • gate, flanked by two pavilions, whicli were occupied by a porter. I left my baggage there, and walked towards tbe chateau, carrying my little carpet-bag in one hand, and beheading with blows of my cane, held in the other hand, the daises which peeped through the turf. After walking several 'hundred yards between two»rows of encyrmous chestnut trees, I found myself in a large, circular- shaped garden, which seemed -to transform itself into a park at a little distance. I perceived on both right and left deep perspectives, opened between dense thick- ets already green, bits of water glimmering under the trees, and white boats housed under rustic roofs. Before me rose the chateau, of con- siderable size, built in the elegant half-Italian style of the early days of Louis XIII. It was surrounded by a terrace which formed a kind of private garden in front, and was accessible by several broad, low steps. The stately and smiling aspect of this building really disap- pointed me, and this feeling did not diminish when on approaching the terrace I heard the sound of young and joyful voices above the tink- ling of a more "distant piano. I was decidedly entering a house of pleasure, instead of the old rigid castle I had chosen to imagine. How- ever, this was not a tiuie for reflection ; I slowly ascended the steps and found myself in front of a scene which, under other circumstan- ces, I should have admired. Half a dozen laughing young girls were twirling in couples on the turf of the parterre, while a piano, touched by a skillful hand, sent them through an open window the measures of an impetuous waltz. I had hardly time to see the animated faces of the dancers, their disordered hair, their large hats flapping upon their shoulders ; my sudden apparition was saluted by a general shout, fol- lowed instantly by profound silence ; the dancing ceased, and the band, ranged in order of battle, gravely waited for the stranger to pass. The stranger had stopped, not, however, without exhibiting a little embar- rassment. Although my mind had not for a long time been directed to social pretensions, I confess that at that moment I should have sold my travelling-bag at a very low price. But if was necessary for me to act. As I advanced, hat in hand, toward the double staircase leading to the vestibule of the chateau, the music ceased, and there appeared first at the open window an enormous Newfoundland dog, which rested his leonine muzzle on the window-sill between his two hairy paws; then an instant afterward a tall young girl presented herself j her slightly brown and earnest face was set in a frame as it were of thick, shining black hair. Her eyes, which were extraordinarily large, examined the scene passing outside with indifferent curiosity. " Ah, well ! what is the matter ?" said she, in a calm voice. I made her a low bow, and once more execrating my travelling bag, hastened up the flight of •Steps. A grey-haired servant dressed in black took my name. I was shown a few minutes later into a large drawing-room hung with yellow silk, w^here I recognized at once the young person whom I had seen at the window, and who was extremely beautiful. Near the bright fire a middle-aged lady, whose features showed her to be a Creole, sat in a large arm-chair, almost buried in its eider-down cushions of all sizes and shapes. A tripod of antique form, placed over a lighted hrasero, The Romance of a Poor Young 3Ian. 25 stood at her side, and she frequently held to it; her thin pale hands. By the side of Mrs. Laroque was seated a lad}', knitting; her morose and disagreeable countenance made me recognize her as unquestiona- bly the "second cousin, widow of the exchange broker, deceased in Belgium." The first look which Mrs. Laroque gave me was stamped with sur- prise bordering on stupidity. She made me repeat my name — " I beg pardon, sir i" " Odiot, madame." " Maximilian Odiot, the agent, the steward from Mr. Laubepin?" " Yes, madame." " Are you very sure ?" I could not help smiling. " Yes, madame, perfectly sure." She cast a rapid glance on the exchange broker's widow, then on the young girl with the earnest face, as if to say " Only imagine it !" Af- ter which she fidgetted slightly among her cushions and resumed : " Be so good as to be seated, Mr. Odiot. 1 thank you very much for devoting your talents to our service. We are in great need of your assistance, 1 assure you, for it cannot be denied that we have the mis- fortune to be very rich." Perceiving that her second cousin shrugged her shoulders at these words, she went on : " Yes, my dear Mrs. Aubry, I think so. In ma- king me rich, God wished to try me. I was born positively for pover- ty, for privation, for devotion and sacrifice ; but I have always been thwarted. For example, I should have loved to have an infirm hus- band. Well ! Laroque was a man of the most robust health. You see how my destiny has been and will be missed from one end of life to the other." " That will do," said Mrs. Aubry, harshly ; " povetty would be a fine thing for.you who cannot deny yourself any refinementy any luxury." " Allow me, dear madame," replied Mrs. Laroque, " I have no taste for useless sacrifices. If I were to condemn myself to endure the hardest privations, who or what would be benefited thereby?. If I were to freeze from morning till night, would you be any happier?" Mrs. Aubry made us understand by an expressive gesture that she should be no happier, but that she thought Mrs. Laroque's language prodigiously affected and ridiculous. "After all," continued the latter, " happy or unhappy, it matters little. We are very rich, Mr. Odiot, and though I had little to do with the making of this fortune, it is my duty to preserve it for my daugh- ter, although the poor child cares no more for it than I do myself — is it not so. Marguerite ?" At this question a feeble smile was visible on the disdainful lips of Miss Marguerite, and her eyebrows were slightly raised; after which, this dignified and superb physiognomy regained its repose. "Sir," said Mrs. Laroque, "you shall be shown the apartments that have been prepared for you at the express desire* of Mr. Laubepin; but, previous to that, will you be so good as to visit my father-in-law, who will be glad to see you ? Will you ring, my dear cousin ? I 26 The Romance oj a Poor Young Man. hope, Mr. Odiot, that you will do us the. pleasure to dine with us to-day," Good morning." I was confided to the care of a servant, who begged me to wait in a room adjoining that which I had just quitted till be had received his orders from Mr. Laroque. This man had left the door half open, and it was impossible not to hear these words, spoken by Mrs. Laroque, in the tone of ironical good nature, evidently habitual to her : " €an any one understand Laubepin, who promised me an honest, sober, middle- aged man, and who sends me a young gentleman like that ?" Miss Marguerite murmured several words, which escaped me, to my regret, I confess, and to which her mother replied : " I do not contra- dict you, my daughter; but that does not render it any the less ridicu- lous on Laubepin's part. IIow can you suppose that such a gentleman will go trotting in wooden shoes over the ploughed fields ? I wager that man never put on wooden shoes ; he does not even know what they are; Well ! it is perhaps one of my faults, but I cannot imagine a good steward without wooden shoes. Tell me, Marguerite, now I think of it. if you will conduct him to your grandfather ?" Marguerite came immediately into the room where I was. On see- ing me, she seemed scarcely pleased. "I beg pardon, Miss; but the servant desired me to wait here for him.'* "Be so good as to follow me, sir." I followed her. She led me up a staircase, through several corri- dors, and showed me into a gallery, where she left me. I began to examine the pictures suspended on the walls. These were mostly very inferior sea-pieces devoted to the glory of the old privateers of the Empire. There were several pictures of sea-fights, a little smoked, in which it was evident that the little brig Amiable, Captain Laroque, twenty-six guns, tfad caused John Bull serious disasters. Then came full-length portraits of Captain Laroque, which naturally attracted my special attentiofi-. They all represented, with some slight variations, a man of gigantic size, wearing a sort of republican uniform, with large facings, long-haired, like Kleber, and sending right before him an en- ergetic fiery look; on the whole, a man who had little that was pleas- ing about him. As I was studying curiously this figurQ, which realized wonderfully the general idea of a privateer, and even of a pirate, Mar- guerite came and begged me to enter another room. I there found myself in the presence of a thin, decrepit old man, whose eyes hardly preserved the vital spark, and who, to welcome me, touched with a tremulous hand the black silk cap which covered his bald head, as shining as ivory. " Grandfather," said Miss Marguerite, raising her voice, " this is Mr. Odiot." ... . . . . ■ The poor old captain raised himself a little in his arm-chair, as he looked at me with a dull, uncertain expression. I seated myself at a sign from Marguerite, who repeated: " Mr. Odiot, the new steward, grandfather." "Ah ! good day, sir," murmured the old man. A most painful si- lence ensued. Captain Laroque continued to watch me with his blear- ed eyes as he sat bent double, and his head hanging down. At length, The Romance of a Poor Young Man. 27 seeming to recollect an inter.esting subject of conversation, he said to me in a deep, hollow voice, " Mr. de Beauchênc is dead !" I could make no answer to this unexpected communication ; I was ignorant who this de Beauchêne could be, and as Marguerite did not give herself the trouble to explain to me, I could only express by some feeble exclamation of condolence the share I took in this sad event This was not apparently to the tas^e of the old sailor, for he repeated the moment after, in the same lugubrious tone : " Mr. d© Beauchêne is dead !" ÎI3' emba'rrassment was redoubled by this persistency. I saw Miss 3Iarguerite's foot beat the floor wRh impatience; I was in despair, and unhickily expressed the first thought which cjtmcinto my mind: "Ah! and of what did he die V This' question had scarcely escaped my lips when an angry glance from Marguerite warned me that I was suspected of I know not what irreverent raillery. Feeling I had been guilty of a silly blunder, I was anxious to give the interview a happier turn. I spoke of the pictures in the gallery, of the emotions they must recall to the captain, of the respectful interest I felt in seeing the hero of such glorious deeds. I even entered into details, and instanced two or three combats in which the brig Amiable seemed to me to have really ^iccomplishcd miraclcf. Though I was giving such a proof of courtesy and good taste, Mis^s Marguerite, to my extreme surprise, continued to look at me with mani- fest discontent and vexation. Her grandfather, however, listened at- tentively, raising his head little by little. A strange smile lighted up his thin face, and seemed to efface the wrinkles. Suddenly placing his hands on the arms of his chair, he rose to his full height; a warlike flame shot from his deep-sunk eyes, and he cried in a loud voice that made me tremble : " Up with the helm ! To windward ! Fire the larboard guns ! Come alongside !, Throw the grappling irons! Quick! We hold him ! Fire high i Sweep his deck ! Now together ! Fall upon the English, the cursed Saxon ! Hurrah !" In uttering this last shout, which rattled in his throat, the ' old man, vainly supported by the pious hands of his grand-daughter, fell as if crushed 'into his arm-chair. Miss Laroque made me an imperious sign, and I left the room. I found my way back as well as I could, through the maze^f passages and stairca.ses, felicitating myself warmly on the wit and dis- cretion I had displayed in my interview with Jhe old captain of the Amiable, The grey-haired servant who received me on my arrival, and whose name was x\lain, I found waiting for me in the vestibule to tell me from Mrs. Larotjue that I had no time to visit my apartments to drc.«s before dinner — that I was very well as I was. At the moment when I entered the saloon, some twenty persons were about leaving it, with the usual ceremony, to go to the dining-foom. It was the first time since the change in my condition, that I had mingled in society. Accustom- ed to the preference which etiquette accords in genei'al to birth and fortune, I did not receive without a bitter feeling this fir.'^t indication of the neglect arid disdain to which my new situation inevitably con- demns me. Repressing as I best could the mutinous feelings, I offered 28 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. my arm to a young girl, short, but well-formed and graceful, who re- mained alone behind the guests, and who was, as I supposed her to be, Helouin, the governess. My place at table was near hers. Aa the company were seating themselves, Marguerite appeared, like Antigone, guiding the slow and- dragging steps of her grandfather. She seated herself on my right, with that air of tranquil majesty which becoYnes her so well, and the powerful Newfoundland, seemingly the authorized guardian of this princess, was not long hx posting himself as a sentinel. I expressed to my neighbor, without delay, thef regret I felt at having so awkwardly evoked memories that agitated her grandfather in so sad a manner. " It is I, who ought to make excuses, sir,"» she answered, " I ought to have told you we must not speak of the English before my grand- father. Are you familiar with Brittany?" I replied that I had not seen the province before this day, but that I was very glad to become acquainted with itj and in order to prove •that I was worthy of it, I spoke in a poetic strain of the picturesque and beautiful scenery I had passed through. I thought this adroit flattery would gain the good will of the young Bretonnese, and I was astonished to see symptoms of impatience and annoyance in h^ face. I was decidedly unfortunate with this young girl. " I see," said she, With a singular ex:pression of irony, " that you love that which is beautiful, which appeals to the imagination, to the soul; nature, verdure, stones, and the fine arts. You will succeed wonder- fully with Miss IJelouin, who adores these things, which, for my part, I do not love." " But in heaven's name, then, what do you like. Miss ?" At this question, which I addressed to her in a tone of amiable pleasantry, she turned abruptly toward me, gave me a haughty glance, and answered coldly : " I like my dog. Here! Mervyn." Then she plunged her hand aifectionately into the long hair of the Newfoundland, as he stretohed his formidable head between my plate and hers while standing on his hind legs. I could not but observe with new interest the physioghomy of this singular person, and seek for the external signs of that barrenness of soUl of which she boasted. Miss Laroque, who seemed to be very tall at first, owed this appearance to the ample and perfectly harmonious character of her beauty. She was in reality of ordinary size. Her face of a slightly rounded oval, and her neck exquisitely arched, and proudly set upon, her shoulders, are lightly tinged with a dull golden color. Her black hair forms a striking relief to her forehead and throws wavy, bluish reflections at each movement of her .head ; the nostrils, delicate and thin, seemed copied from the divine model of the Roman Madonna, and sculptured in living mother of pearl. Beneath the large, deep, and pensive eyes, the tawny golden hue of the cheeks shades into a browner circle, which looks like a mark traced by the shadow of the eyelashes, Or as if burned by the fiery radiation of her glances. It is difficult to describe the sovereign sweetness of the smile which comes occasionally to animate, this beautiful faee,4ind to temper, by a gracious contraction, the brilliancy of those large- eyes. Truly, The Romanche of a Poor Young Man. . 29 the goddess of poesy, of dreams, and of tlie enchanted realms, might confidently present herself for the worship of mortals under the form of this child, who only loves her dog. Nature, in her choicest productioiM, often prepares for us these cruel mystifications Moreover, to me it matters little. ? feel that I am destined to play the part of a negro in Marguerite's imagination — the object, as every one knows, of slight attraction for a Creole. On my side, I flatter my- seff that I am as proud as she ; the most impossible of all attachments for me, would be that which would expose me to the suspicion of in- trigue and fortune-hunting. I do not think, besides, that I shall need to arm myself with great moral strength against an improbable danger, for the beauty of Miss Laroquc is of that order which challenges the pure contemplation of the artist, rather than a more human and ten- dgrer sentiment. On hearing the name of Mervyn, which Marguerite has given to her body guard, my left-hand neighbour, Helouin, launched full sail into the time of Arthur, telling me that Mervyn was the authentic name of the celebrated enchanter, vulgarly called Merlin. From the Knights of the Hound Table, she went back to the time of Cœsar, and I saw defile before me in a somewhat tedious procession the whole hierarchy of druids, bards and ovates, after which we had a fatal tumble from inenhir to dolmen and from galgal io cromlech. While I wandered in Celtic forests, guarded by Mrs. Ilelouin, who only needed ip be a little fatter in order to make an excellent druidesF, the exchange broker's widow, who sat near us, kept up an incessant complaining, " they had forgotten to give her a foot-stove ; X\.(ty had brought her cold soup ; the meat which was served her was nothing but skin and bones; this was the way she was treated. But she was accus- tomed to it. It was sad to be poor, .very gad. She wished she was dead." " Yes, doctor," she oontinued, addressing her neighbor, who seemcl to listen to. her grievances with an aifection of interest mingled the least in the world with irony — "yes, doctor, it is not a jest; I wish I wer^ dead. It would be a great relief to all the world. Think, doc- tor ! When one has been in my position, when one has eaten ofi" silver plate, marked with one's own crest — to be reduced to living on charity, and to see onesself the sport of servants ! No one knows what 1 suffer in this house, no one ever will know. Those who have pride, suflfer without complaining; it is for this reason that LhoH my peace, doctor, but I think none the less." " That is right, my dear lady," replied the doctor, whom they called Desnrtirest.^, I believe, "do not let us talk of it rny more; drink some wine, that will calm you." " Nothing, nothing will calm me but death !" "Ah well! madame, whenever you please!" replied the doctor quietly. N"iir the centre of the table the attention of the guests was engross- ed I'Y the careless, satirical, and vain-glorious sallies of a personage who II I heard addressed as Mr. de Bévallan, and who seemed to CDJoy heri' the privileges of an intimate friend. He was a large man, of ma- ture age, whose head belonged strictly to the type of Francis First. 30 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. Tl*&7 listened to Iiim as to an oracle, and Mrs. Laroque herself o;rante(l him as much interest and admiration as she seemed capable of feeling for anything in the world. For myself, as the greater part of the wit- ticisms related to local anecdotes and occurrences, I could not fully ap- preciate the merits of this Armorican lion. I had, however, to acknowledge his politeness to me ; he offered me a cigar after dinner, and showed me into the room appropriated to smoking. He did the honors, at the same time, to three or four young men just out of their teens, who evidently regarded him as a model of good manners and elegant wickedness. " Eh ! Bévallan," said one of these young fellows, "you do not, then, aive up the priestess of the sun ?" " Never," answered Bévallan ; " I will wait ten months, ten years, if necessary; but I will have her or nobody shall." • '' You are not in the meantime unhappy, old fellow; the goverftess will help you to be patient." *' Ought I to cut off your tongue or your ears, Arthur ?" replied Bé- vallan in a low voice, advancing toward his interlocutor, and remindiqg him of my presence by a quick gesture There were then brought on the carpet, in charming confusion, all the horses, all the dogs, all the ladies of that part of the country. It is to be wished, by the way, that women could be secretly present for once in their Uvea at the conversations held between men after a good dinner ; they would then understand exactly the delicacy of our cus- toms,, and the confidence we ought to inspire them with. I do not pride myself on my prudery, but the talk to which I was a listener had the serious fault, in my opinion, of exceeding the limitg of the loosest jesting; it hit at everything by the way, outraged gaiety, and finally took'a character of universal profanation. But my education, doubt- less very incomplete, has left in my heart a fund of respect, which it seems to me ought to be preserved in the midst of the liveliest expan- ' sions of good humor.. We have our Young America in France, how- over, which is not content if it does tiot utter blasphemy after dinner; we have amiable little vagabonds — the hope of the future — who have had neither fathers nor mothers, who have no country, and no God, but who would seem to be the brutal production of some naachine with- out heart or soul, which has deposited them accidentally on this globe to be indifferent ornaments to it. In short, Mr. de Bévallan, who did not fear to constitute himself the cynical professor of these beardless roués, did not please me, and I , think I pleased him as little. I pretended to be fatigued, and took my leave. . « At my request, old Alain equipped himself with a lantern, and guided me across the park to the building allotted to my use. After some minutes' walking, we crossed a stream on a wooden bridge and found ourselves before a massive door, surrounded by a kind of belfry and flanked by two turrets. This was formerly the entrance of the old • chateau. Oak and fir-trees formed a mysterious circle around this feudal ruin, which gave it an air of deep seclusion. This was to be my habitation ; my three rooms, very suitably furnished with chintz, es- The Romance of a Poor Yoiiflig Man. 31 tended above the door from one turret to the other. This melancholy abode pleased me j it suited my fortune. As soon as I was rid of- old Alain, who was in a talkative humor^ I seated myself to record the doings of this important day, stopping at intervals, to listen to the soft murmur of the little river, flowing be- neath my windows, and the cry of the legendary owl celebrating its sad love in the neighboring woods. * Jii'^i/ 1- It ir time f<ïr me to try to disentangle the thread of my own interior existence, which has been lost sight of during the last two months, ow- ing to my active engagements. The next morning after my arrival, having spent some hours in studying the books and papers of Father Hivart, as they call my predecessor, I went to breakfast at the chateau, where I founœonly a part of the guests of the previous evening. Mrs. Laroque, who spent much of the time in Paris before the .health of her father-in-law condemned her to a perpetual coantry life,^ faithfully preserves iû her retreat the taste for the pleasures, elegant or frivolous, of which the Rue du Bac was the mirror in Madame de Stael'g time. She appears, besides, to have visited most of the great cities of Europe, and has brought back literary tastes far exceeding the common extent of the knowledge and curiosity of Parisian ladies. She takes a number of journals, and reviews, and endeavors as much as possible, to follow from a distance the movements of the refined civilization of Paris, of which the theatres, the museums, and the new books, are the flowers and the fruits, more or less ephemeral. During the breakfast, a new opera was spoken of, and Mrs. Laroque asked Mr, de Bévallan some question respecting it, which- he was unable to answer, though he has always, if one may believe him, a stall at the Italian Opera. Mrs. Laroque then turned to me, but showed by her abstracted air the little hope she had of finding her man' of business well informed on such subjects; but these are, unfortunately, precisely the only ones with which I am acquainted. I had heard the opera when in Italy that was then being played in France for the first time. The reserve of my an- swers roused her curiosity, and she began to press me with Vjuestions, and soon deigned to communicate her own impressions of her travels^ her recollections and her enthusiastic enjoyment of them. In short, it was not long before we visited together in imagination the most cele- brated theatres and galleries of the continent, and our conversation was so animated that, as we rose from the table, Mrs. Laroque took ray arm unconsciously in order not to interrupt its course. Our sympathetic interchange of thought continued in the saloon, Mrs. Laroque forget- ting more and more the benevolent, patronizing tone which had, to this time, greatly offended me. She confessed that the* inability to gratify her love for tlie theatre troubled her greatly; and that she meditated having a comedy acted at the chateau. She also asked my advice in the arrangement of this amusement. I then told her at length of the private stage arrange- 32 The Jlontanee of a Poor Young Man. nients I had seen in Paris and . St. Petersburg ; but, not wishing to abuse my privileges, I rose, declaring .that I must at once commence my duties by the examination of a large farm situated two leagues from the chateau. At this announcement Mrs. Laroque seemed filled with sudden consternation : she looked at me, fidgetted in her chair, hield her hand over her brasero, and at length said to me in a low voice : " Ah ! what does that matter ? Let it go" — and when I insisted, "why, my child," she replied, with a pleasant embarrassment, " the roads are frightful — wait at least till the fine weather comes." . " No, madame," said I, laughing, " I will not wait one minute 3 one is either a steward, or one is not." , " Madame," said old Alain, who chanced to be there, " Father. Hi- vart's wagon can be harnessed for Mr. Odiot; it has no springs, but it is all the more substantial." Mrs. Laroque cast a look of thunder ^t the unlucky Alain, who dared to propose father Hivart's wagon to a steward of my so»t, who had at- tended theatrical performances at the palace of the grand-duchess Helen. " Will not the carriage go in that road ?" she asked. • " The carriage, madame ? My goodness, no. There is no doubt it would go, but it would not go whole," said Alain — " and yet I do not believe it would go at all." I protested that I sould go perfectly well on foot. " No, no, that is impossible, I do not wish it ! Let us see — we have half a dozen saddle-horses who do nothing — but probably you do not ride on horseback?" " I beg your pardon, madame — but it is really unnecessary, I can go" " Alain, have a horse saddled for Mr. Odiot — which one, Margue- rite ?" '• Give him Proserpine," muttered Mr. de Bévallan, laughing in his sleeve. " No, no, not Proser;^iiie," cried Marguerite, quickly. " Why not Proserpine, Miss Marguerite ?" I then said. ^' Because she will throw you," the young girl frankly answered. " Oh, indeed ? really ? pardon me, will you allow me to ask if you mount this beast?" " Yes, sir, but I have great difficulty in doing so." " Very well! perhaps you will have, less when I have mounted her myself once or twice. That decides me. Have Proserpine saddled, Alain." Miss Marguerite frowned and sat down, making a gesture with her hand, as if to throw off all responsibility for the catastrophe that she foresaw. "If you need spurs, I have a pair at your service," said de Béval- lan, who seemed to think T should never return. Without seeming to remark the reproachful look Marguerite gave the obliging gentleman, I accepted his spiars. Five minutes later the noise of unruly feet announced Proserpine's approach ; she was led with difficulty to the foot of one of the flights of steps leading up tt ^#mmL^^#V>;^(,'f"î^îiii^^JÇïw. % uneasy about the end of the adventnrCj for if I waS I'^ljtfWg'^Vf'ti^lM,^ '4kÉ'itti ém^tj^'^mh 'mmW^kâifm^ k^^^^ Wmv^h^^ me ''fib 'f)*ti«!^'to'{î'êi«îet«illdihî?f'e^(lsÉ'l i^%"faî'^'^ttJ^Wi'^^îi^'%(fië^è\J^lodA^Ilc ■*Sd(éV^h aTt^îedrtii^^iïOéaflioiif'îkhîSWti'îit tviMi me in vaulting. .inoai l/iioffto ^ni "io -^t hief'Scfcestfin'itHoiitJthèiileap.t.pî^n i^fiiftoiy^ jbatv«|1th{ièiDkinûriîi3s!;j«yeJsdij T.,om oî l'j cAit i^h© dime [mocientiŒ') leaped) intoo^ï4 ?adti!â<»/i{iioutf*»u(ilv«(ng5ho ' jtBtiirwj), Land'iwki^eiPrc3Baét-pio«-reflw'ît<^lTlipoY>iwhi!!t(iiad hdtpferieiJnoriiiarr, Mrhad'takaiL' alfiiimisGativHÎrhjG^instoBntB'jïftaB ^eeffri's^ajipffflwdlijitfA.i^paJl^p /Itjfoknitlw;. laveimëijotj èfedétiintçitfci^JiiTfadiifjffy ft!?W)umd»ioficièlaf{*iirigj{Nf 3»iiaiwi3vfor.vrliick(fl)erJîoi';tillaH£jL»di'li8d ttealkiifiiwWjtaimve.theLftiign*]. ^?.b:J!B^lïs''inpiderftv'^^Mgnifi«JJib^ i4i/teifl4;>d3dIq;i'Jt dail/aftjilT pèaofiitwd iHàt •evening, to establish my reputation in theiira»pibinlKiaoâk»verifI'jathcï9ac-_ oompli!^hments of equal wojJ^.^ts^j^HBomsr'^HA^ifr «h^'^oWli#à7■^«'iI^-- 'fional dignity. It can be s^en, moreover, that I do not int|^flftjj^i;PTPî!^' the kindness and respect of which T ï^f»y t)''"<^''i^o^S^Arfj''li W"^"^"^^ usurp in the ch,it^-^,u a„pgpyçg^,lij^t}fi i«iom^i^,!W';*£^^fifn'''>>.-C'^^^« . ^0 that no one will everT^e tempt^rl to V^\m,ifmu\r s'^V^i Jo L-:ow Several days aftei" mv, arrival, I ws.^ R"Ç'^T*i 'f '^"'^ of tno^errcrcrco- ,riipiis dinners which, at tnis èea?oi{, T*k^ pl^ •» ^/mqst every a: [\tm r)fhGAW'h\h^-^t'A'A'(M 'f'i;%^ '■''tnHi^aii. "'B'ettrcen mii^cli-e^, iny liciw •dndt'r.iin*l'»'rYT''{ï|^Ç'*^'' ' tvSc* . l^i^e^ak, J^nt à^ yçj»f ÂîH^eëAbi»^'ttfli " "' ' ■' ;i "^:f' •'''•' ' ' c 3 34 The Romance of a Poor Young Bîan. The under-preffect, wlio is also a very agreeable man, or who thinks he is one, which is quite as satisfactory to himself, replied gracefully, that there were beautiful eyes enough in the chateau to explain many mysteries; that, besides, Love was the legitimate father of Folly, and the natural steward of the Graces—then suddenly changing his tone : " however, madam'e," he added, *' if you have the least uneasiness re- specting him, I will have him interrogated to-morrow by the brigadier of the gendarmerie " Mrs. Laroque protested against this excess of polite zeal, and the conversation regarding me proceeded no further; but it pi jucd me greatly, not against the under-prefect; who on the contrary pleased me infinitely, but against Mrs. Laroque, who, in rendering more than ju%^ ticc to my private qualities, was not sufiSciently penetrated with a sense of my official merit. It chanced that on the next day I had to renew the lease of a large farm. The tenant was a cunning old peasant, but I succeeded in daz- zling him by some terms of jurisprudence adroitly mingled with tha» reserve of a skillful diplomatist. When our agreement was concluded, the good man placed in my desk three rolls of gold pieces. Though the meaning of this payment, which was not due, did not at once occur to me, I abstained from exhibiting any surprise; but I found by indi- rect questions that this sum constituted the earnest-money, customary on each renewal of the leases ; or in other words the glaf^s of wine which the farmers give the owners of the vineyards. I had not thougM of claiming this earnest-money, having found no mention of it in the former leases, drawn up by niy skillful predecessor, and which served me as models. I drew no conclusion from this circumstance, at the moment, but when I placed this pledge in Mrs. Laroque's hands, her surprise astonished me. " What does this mean V she asked me. I explained the nature of the gratuity. She made me repeat my explanation. " Is.it the custom ?" " Yes, madame, whenever a» new lease is granted." ■ "But there have been during thirty years more than ten leases renewed to my knowledge — what is the reason we have never heard a jirord of these things before ?" , ' " I do not know what to tell you, madame." Mrs. Laroque fell into an abyss of reflection, at the bottom of which she met, perhaps, the venerable shade of Father Hvvart, after which she shrugged her shoulders, slîghtly looked at me, then at thc^gold pieces, Uien again at me, and seemed to hesitate. Then she leaned back in ner arm chair,, and sighing deeply, said to me with great sim- plicity — * " Very well, sir; I thank you." * ' This act of palpable honesty, which she had the good taste not to compliment me for, had the effect of impressing Mrs. Laroque with a great idea of her steward's ability and virtue. I discovered that some days afterwards. Her daughter was reading to ^er a history of a voy- The Romance of a Poor Young Man. 35 ;\g3 CO tlie North Pole, in which there was an account of an extraordi- nary bird, which did not fly aWay. • Hold," said she, " that is like my steward." I firmly hope that I have since acquired, by the strict attention with which I have devoted myself to the task I have undertaken, some right to less negative praise. "When I went to Paris recently to visit my sister, Mr. Laut)epin thanked me with great warmth for the lienor I had done his recom- jnendation of me. " Courage, JIaximilian," said he to me; ''we will havo a dowry f«r Helen. The poor child will not be, so to say, talk for nothing. M\à as to your-self, my friend, cherish no regret, lîelieve me, that which most resembles happiness in this world, you have within you ; and thank Heaven, I see you will' always have it; in that peace of con- «:cience anK;l healthy serenity of soul which follow devotion to duty." The eld man is doubtless right. I am tranquil, but I am hardlv happy. There are in my soul, which is not yet mature enough for the austere enjoyment of sacrifice, alternate transports of gaily and des- pair. My life is unreservedly dedicated to another, feebler and dearer, and belongs to me no longer ; it has no future, It is shut tip in a clois- ter forever. My heart must beat, my head must think for^nothef oiily. Let Helen' be happy ! Age draws near already for nic ! May it '•ome quickly — its iciness will sustt^n my courage. I ought not to complain, besides, of a situation which has beguiled iKv most painful apprehensions, and exceeded^y best hopes. My du- ties, my frequent journeys into the neighboring departments, my taste for solitude, keep me often away from the chateau. I alwnys avoid the '.loisy parties there, and perhaps it is in good part to the rarity of my presence that I owe the friendly vyelcome I always find. Mrs. Laroque, in particular, exhibits a real iitta«hment to me; she maki.'S ure the con- fidant of her strange, but very sincere mania, ibr poverty, for devotion, and poetic abnegation, which form an amusing , contrast with her many precautions against her C'reole chilliness. Sometimes she envies the gipsi(^ burdened with children, who drag a miserable cart along the roads, and cjDok their dinner under the shelter of the hedges ; some- times jt is the sisters of charity, sometimes it is the camp women, whose heroic labors she is ambitious of emulating. Then she will reproach tho late Mr. Laroque with his excellent health, which never permitted his wife to display her abilifies as a sick nurse. And for several days she has wished to have added to her arna-chair a kind of niche, in the form of a turret, to shelter her from draughts of air, and I found her installed, the other morhing, in this kiosk, where she sweetly awaited martyrdom. I have hardly less to praise in the other inhabitants of the chateau. Miss Marguerite, îilways plunged in some unknown revery, like a Nu- bian sphinx, condescends, hovCever, witt obliging readiness, to sing my. favorite airs. Her voice is an admirable contralto, and which she uses with the most consummate art, but at the same time with a cold- ness and iudiffcrence which must bo intentional. It soniotûncs hap- j'wva thst an cxprçi?sion of warmth and "passion escapes her lips, but 36 2v^e Romance of. a Poor J- otin^ JSzaC she seecis hTiTQihatod and asi^ained ''f J^9f.S-.?p5gfif^v^^f§;î>Çn^r;^ft "i have iDst; AU grç^fi0,^5^,,,E^,^,Vif?^"^|À:};|K,P^^ «:4dst 9i^^^^î,WQl' iW^-^'oi^ ifiiii^f^io^} "^ïor-îili.fa i^oî^a. "iï^^" "îs^j^M^^iî^'-V:*^ •pass .'.cÏÏa- — ''"^nioB round, vfhere sht i-s oot kqg";^ ana venerated as fear. Or love,' whicK vexes' fjîis n(?bïe1i'(3art. ttowevV'^isiatereslea .one may be. m tlîo^Kîasei- rit,|i|,jjmço|sipId- npl ^fo ^Jcfi^ï a coy^tutn curiosity, re- spectî^^:6qi;çn)pry\e;r^,;p^ am a fiivorite, sefvecl njv solifarv.rçpapt. . ,,. " Wcl], Alain," sai(i'ïr'^'iTiy-"ftk^ .bèm'.;;oi[f h\nhnml * iî n '/.•;;;! no'{ jj;iî.t '{li'I'V " Ycs, sir, thia morning with my lady." "TniiifA ,03 y.'!»/ brrA *^i •• Ah,,^uile^(lf,lvfb 17 ffjiv/ L!;?:f{ aifi s!i:î.:f;ofr\ni.nIA fàiîa ' ^-çiiBood "^ " Did you sec us pass ?" " It is possible, Alain. Yes. ï see you pass sometimes. You^it your horse well, Alain." — ~ " You are very kind, sir'. Miss Marguerite sits a horse much better than J?:^;. '.A, .v;'^6^lejg^;,v^r3rvl^f?f^ifVlWoWS!r^^V^IfJ«.'v;•« OiU'jo oViit--) 'Jik nï - " OWt ■pe.pfcreitipsir,'àrnK.l, àaigîdogl asiliearut'iftndBditm(Ji,i'hèr.i molltert; il wiJl t-éllly©ttâome!tliiiiigi.;!i( ï^ matkeid,, sijp, :tih^t,it gnvcsi ,ii)e,ipiir|^i;ia^.:, pj(ç^sure;tp 'lip ^Jj^ui aiiyt sûrvice,- ^ndip ■je bccaupje ..h^,,^a^-,,t^(^if j^£;';^jgej]^|oxi^%,; jAr,Çi:ypiJt xcfy, anvs. jpu d,o,nut,.bel,vfg to tb,ç.ftob^itj!.n,,,;t ,f,^,ii ,[')i.[w -lo ,di\v ^vmho oiicp. ; ''fIfeariSOvaayfipOor iAihiixJ'c-j ;)i[) n')':.v/t^tf 7t('[::Itfni8 r o-iorf noaoh^ivn ^ Ncv<;rtheiiâsâ,iatiè:itTig.'thrè<'I îïfâ^^vngiU) à&y; sh'i,':'v.'i»épKed A'Uin^ with -a graceful iborvrî^^ï.Bavé-'l^iiniêdf'iis^hilôf îff'th'e' sôïviee of tHe»»; ladies, that thp nobility of' 1 feeiîîti j^ ifc 'Wôr4;h:ffitidh;itiDfo than ïthe? othfet^' and iniprtioular t^aT> 'tl\at''of'' Oount' 'iqiJSiCasterih^îi, who used to/beat hisiserVants. i.U'Sfe ■a''^jiij,;;8iD/>th«lt Mftrjn^cilitd-icottld.iîot'iniirr.yiia'^h- tl^an.t.'ith'a fine îiaiâfe l'^héPé ■rtWuJdihtinibè'ribtîii.iig'aibpéi'Waritiftç; tO'/her^eTfeOBoh.'!-!!; /nt'jJfpo-j i[-I:;)V:,'l oih .Ijji.-;::.) ']■■. /ti'ii;/;/ -.u;; ■-'«•toiti è^ëhi^ t6^'tiië='ii^%în,'''éiat îi-ffé^encF»-''ôii'^ho?(!Âic'bfu£'EW-i*' ^ ^' If yoil spcat' çf Wi;. de'a3étallâW,'\ié deji^'ys-'Vliy o^'^^h^^^ ntsked'Tiér-TiàiM'^ tf>Wé' thati' ât!i;- jgS.iikthfe' ag6.''' 'Madktnè'.dîa'iièt'oljpb^è^* if; abdi 'W'' Âdtl'-hé' Is -eie'^tjchWi' >ih'' ithd'' bbiùtfry,' a;ÇtÊr' Ihè' Lki-oijttësV'but èhc-M^Ôtiia' liM ^îWà âfecidéd 'àWsWef/Mt 1tishe!d.# takeïhrl^ fWVëfléëlfibhr"''-'''-''l"^'^" '^^nî?^ ?.?.;f(!îtir;'.) « ihm ,-(;3ni!tli/ui:'. wilèi)' i.shù^'it. whViBïSlit:' .ad and à))beai-mind'cd. à'S i;ji , ,ii'."7ii( f'i tl. ■ .■:■ ■ . ■ iiJ,j:. i; ,•);;•.:, ^ " Otle lîc . - , f ■. • ' , '» r • r. . ^P^,^ 38 The Romance, of a Poor Young Man. " That does not prevent him from beinj; a bad fellow, 'who spend? his time in debauching the country girls. And if you have the use of your eyes, you can see that he does not restrain himself from plaving the Sultan in the chateau; while waiting for something better." There, was a pause, after which Alain resumed : " Pity that you have not a hundred thousand francs income." " And why so, Alain ?" " Because," said Alain, nodding his head with a dreamy air. In the course of the month, which is nearly passed away, I have gained one friend, and I have; made, I think, two enemies. The ene- mies are Marguerite an.d Heli^uin; tjie friend is an unmarried lady of eighty-eight. I am afraid one does not compensate for the other. Miss Helouin, with whom I will first settle my account, is an nn- gratefui person. The fault that she pretends I have been guilty of Co- ward her, .ought rather to h.ave raised me in her estimation ; bet she appears to be one of those women, common enough to the v.'orld, who do not rank esteem among the number of sentiments they M'ish to in- spire others with, or which they feel toward others. From my earliest residence here a similarity between the condition of the governess and that of the steward, and the equality of our pssitions in the chateau, made me assume toward her, the relation of affectionate kindness. I had prided myself, at all times, on manifesting to these poor girJs, the kindly interest which their ungrateful task, their precarious and hu- miliating situation, seemed to me to demand for them. Helouin is pretty, intelligent, full of talent, and though she spoils all a little by the vivacity of conduct, the feverish coquetry, *and light pedantry', which are the frequent results of her occupations, I had very little îuerit in playing the chivalrous part that I have ascribed to myself. This character took, the form of duty, in my eyes, when I discovered that a devouring lion, wearing the featxfres of Francis First, is roaming secretly about iny young protégée. This knavery, which does honor to Mr. de Bévallan's audacity, is carried on under the color of amiable familiarit}', with a craftiness which easily deceives inattentive or ingen- uous eyes. Mrs. Laroque, and her daughter in particular, are too igno- rant of the perversities of this world, and live too far from all reality^, to experience a shadow of suspicion. As to myselî*, irritated as I am against this devourer of hearts, I find a pleasure in thwarting his de- signs ; I have more than once diverted the attention he endeavored to engross; I have striven above all to lessen in Miss Helouin's heart that bitter feeling of abandonment and isolation which in general gives so much value to that sort of consolation which was oifered to her. Have I ever exceeded in this ill-advised struggle the delicate limits of fra- ternal protectron ? I believe hot; and the words of th^ short dialogue- The Romance of a Poor Yonng Man. . 39 ■wbicli has suddenly changed the nature of our relations, sçëm to speak in favor of my' prudence. One night last week we went out' upon the terrace to breathe the fresh air. Ilelouin, to whom I had had occasion during the day to show some particular attention, leaned lightly upon my arm, and while biting an orange-flower with her sm^ill, white teeth, said in an unsteady voice : " You are kind, Mr. Maximilian." " I try to be so, Miss." , ' " You are a true friend." ' *' Yes.". " But a friend— how ?" " A true one, as you said." " A friend — who loves me ?" " Without doubt." "Much?" " Assuredly." •* Passionately ?" , "No" Upon hearing this monosyllable, which I articulated very clearly and strengthened by a firm look, Helouin threw the orange-flower quickly away and dropped my arm. Since that unlucky hour, I have been treated with a disdain that I have not shrunk from, and I should deci- dedly believe the friendship of one sex for the other to be an illusion, if my misadventure had not had a sort of counterpoise the next I had gone to pass the evening, at the chateau ; two or three families who had spent a tWrtnight there, had left in the morning, and I found only the habitual visitors — the curé, the collector, the Doctor Desma- rests, and, finally, the General de Saint-Cast and his wife, who, as well as the doctor, live inthe neighboring town. Mrs. de Saint-Cast, who seems to have brought her husband a fine fortune, was engaged when I ^ntered, in an animated conversation with Mrs. Aubry. These two dames understood one another perfectly; they celebrate by turns, like two shepherds in an eclogue, the incomparable charms of riches, in a style wh«re difierence of form contends with elevation of thought. " You are right, madame," said Mrs. Aubry; " there is but one thing in the world — it is to be rich. "When I was rich. 1 despised with all- my heart, those who were not ; I find it very natural now, that I should be despised, and 1 do not complain of it." " No one despises you for being poor, madame," replied Mrs. de Saint-Cast; "very certainly not, madame; but it is certain that to be rich or to be poor, makes a wonderful difl"erence. There is the gene- ral, who knows something of it — he who had absolutely nothing when I married him — but his sfrord — and it is not a sword which will buttfer soup ; is it, madame ?" " No, no ! Oh, no," cried Mrs. Aubry, applauding this bold metaphor. "Honor and glory are vcrv fine things in romances; but I. think a good carriage is much better; is it not so, madame?" rai m coming Here; is it not, general r ....-,„..!,•., ,,',,r, 'h. .,,-r.,.'+ „; "It is^none the less true, that if, it •v^ere not for ine,^yo^'Wô'uM''^ô'6W foot, my general, and that would notVë*fe&'--Ë'mf w«h ^f6^^¥bnM8: "It ie not with a pension of six Qr seven thousand^'-^frtfii^è^ tha^'y'ôtï could ride in a carriage, my friend. I said tha{ to*'fe?tt^tMâ'nï(>rifi,iig',^4Qad- ame, in talking of our new carriage, which is, as easy, as ,easy''''^a«^t)e. However, I paid a high price for it; it mâdè''%f^gDrôd'fcîtîr^tfe^ïsand francs less in fny purse !" ^,^1' -^J^^^?- ^-'0'{ s^- .'-^'fo s^'/ii A " " I believe it, madame ! My visiting •câïrTàgfe'^^'léèfslF-ine "a ^rjl^ five* thousand francs, counting the tiger's skin for the fèe?tj''^mçH'J|l'6^/ cost five hundred francs." " • __ '. n-;{/i<. " " As to me," replied Mrs. de Saint-Cast, " I have .l^eeri'.y^^fj'djtecl' to economize a little, for I have furnished my saloon, and'$*Hfe¥è^hdught - '-^^ ^' • ■■' "' ÏH/v^ ¥W'n\ë',^ \^M^Wyfkl^'îoiWét heiti^niàré lîonl)réd«rK)w',^îri'tîiiriMn|'' that if I were still what I have been, I should see at my feet all-'ihB '€M^frt^^^fj-'ïor,'4lie^a^il tftTi!'^'mte,'?>Wèàh'^èar tiàiaàe'^idPîin'^'''^ ''■ ' f^Âft'a-^^'¥Hfe,^'tÏÏe-,Wâ^' dMo* kMi^\^ 'ëdo^û^-'^Wyih*'nS;f W^- eâ^e-'Witlff hiBÏ,'i#^%eâhfâ i^B'ae/MJ^îSë^^''a'¥êal'^ l^iàrtî^6^^reèfee^#i^%tîfélfata(tf ^iJd''dis^Usty';' ^^^ bo':.1«ybnf; poin^r. - ^'Alt|iM§lil'ï)déïd#f'©rfàfi«ê^''^Mé %âfab'Héhéa'^' îtf t^é^^Bèils^'ôh-tliè footin^ii.^ife ^iift'irë'âÔ^B^ii(?îië'a'01^,'> to^'-^hbiÀ • V?âg àîî^èd' tlie' 'gi-eirt- e6i^ibttepemdeéeèo(rf/îJà|)$0cKj//th«I4|)Ostr'opfeef:twaâ too ' shia,î-^' aibt to çatièèT tâfe «f^cta|QïîP al feèiïng'of' dneasîi/éss, ?j(rliich.i' wkâ ;iû'anifésted 'M^ %k feiabdrrisÈedi giiencbiî.!/Mrg{îIïa?èc[Mfft âkillfuily; 'broke.' it;:>by;aàkâfi|; her daughter if it was eight o'cl6?> '.^-ÎÎ0, f«ïô^b*i'/,3ffl«5:^e^ .-Maygy^ité, ■/6ïoi'> vio"/ ••• ; j>:!v'.)-j(!îg8 .Hi^Tli^jtei^ii^^aftèr, ^^W;elicUf.llfg&0r,^ àryÈei»:tiiCidpprc«ipe|iQd,j^^^ JlîO^iyfldSi^ft 51^ifei(fttf^a6}iidearfiiig.4iijfcltor;,ï)^30«>i^^^ ■*Jhte.'«<)ciî$yAïî^Met{)Maw»iiÇ£ïbpr€iei^itei: — f.-ro/?? -id jjjj niul lyAnmi I Miss Porhoet, who had this year seen her eiglfty^ti^felfe ^|>i^g/5ftO .w?s )t^e .last fabulous ktngg,.ç^,,gn"çle^„4f ijii(5ri<^V, ,âca:jLj6'Hsîj^;,Iwwfryj3TA,#i^ tous^ Hmm'4A^'^^Mm'^m . tt. Jç^&s.not, appeaiv^n hitiory till, tha twelfth cppt^rj. in. the perso.O;pC tTutlià.el Json of . Cor^n' 'le ,1^91't, ' «esçcni^iéd' from' ^ tli^ ' yoiiiiget^ branch' of fhfi' royal family "of ÏJi'ittany. .So'uie. drops oi'.'tlVe "tlood'of the' Por-^ hoew, hayc UQ\yçd liQ ujp vouis 01, tlie niost illrUStrious nii>ii ot- Ijjanoe^j^ t).e|îif»h;ih, "Do Lusjgnahjànel Pe ronlhieyre j' ît.nxl these |qob1çmoii',c^ii- iVliiss dSfPorhoet, wliolû-day remaiitf ihe last ^i her nàniCj.h;ig never wished to marry, in order to preserve, as long as possible, in the hvwii ■ come one «hancea to speak (beiore ner) one day of the orij^m of the Bourbons- " The Bojirbons,". said she.rPluflsi'iiï her kHittînarnee- ale several tunes into her blond wi^, ''^the hpuroon^ are oi,guod>n.Q- bilitv, but," (putting on suddenly , àh air , of modestv,) ".ther^'jare better " - ' ' ^.;f^ls who Dears _ ,____ ___ - .p,,f=v.: ,!-. ç 11 ,,.,-.., ^ ;,-).-■,(< -i jjiftih, of aiire, and pf misfortune.,, À dépTorabrc ^aw-suît that sh'p oB- stlîrii^telf eata'^oii';^ dUt^bfi '^F^ahée; 'ilia's 'Mkjly ^^dticcd her sn'iall f6tïiHièY'thëi*e^an''hara!yT'ènija4'ri'.tdJ^^^ kàfiih. mbû^éof a, thoysàt}! fràiièy kyedirl ^-'Tlife''lrb%d 'iiâà^^'ûdt l^s^dtfed ''Hyf%Pd4'6ï"mèreàsëè her temper; she is merry, e^htiMy; iioùVt(i6'àë'^''&Tïe'lWé^V^f^'t^^^^ kii'O^a' îl*&^i,{h•'âillittlë' h«\iae,'''wlth 'ft fettle éWfànfc; *^nd ■' yèt f Shè"find4 mtfeiT^^ to fe*f8të;fr''té:grèatU(^lh'cHat'ity.'^y^ iitt'd'''bërfdâù^hltêi'-hftV.^ ■ formed an attachment for their poor and nobl(? tt'ei'^bfibiei* wlijeh'd<)'e& thefrahoiiDr.;! sii«i3B,-iwh«n Visitinig'iitheHij'thiB^grgind objeet'of reéjject hod attention, ^^«fefODnlbljrids Mrsi AtHry. 'I. halve oÉen' scon' Miss Marguerite quit a lively dance to go to make the fonrth at JN4îé3"de PDrliûetfs'VvhisHab'léUTifîthe Utteuis game of •{WÙ3fc'*(i)t five 'oèa^thes the counter) wasrikiofeiogioiwsifaglet'day^'Mhei world rwoiild endi- Içanr «n^elf ojf>qiaf|jt}w-,fJ^f-errt$ft.partfï$f^.Qf :this5i^d}j*dyj-^a^^ iag'pf.. which J{ ^peajti,,»ef 4i«lin0|< d^}ayT-.the,;9ur^rtbP- doc^pœ and-i^y-t ?^fft^^>plf^!,OM!rs^^,(Aï!9\i»d,..!th0 i;Vithji3|tftWe,.ci^ti (p^çii ,si^eiOia||£Îa front of this descendant of Conan le Fort, .-v.-mic^ 'tnÙ 'iu U.;o. »n) 092 « Itvmuiff; ,)^e unde;c^c»odL,tihf^t at il^0icom«^^^c^em(^ixt,o|(.th^ W./^hç,ffufnqe^fifjif;[t^o^;i5;hp,la,i^^ is, W W^'^^PÇiVf 42 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. puloua, because, notwithstanding the respect he professes for her, he ■ disapproves explicitly ot the use to which the poor woman devotes, in her imagination, her chijnerical inheritance — -it is the erection, in the neighboring city, of a cathedral, in the finest flamboyant style, which will- preserve through future ages, the name of its foundress, and that of a great but extinct race. This cathedral, a dream dnifted on a dream,- ie the innocent plaything of this aged child. She has had her plans of it drawn ; she passes her days, sometimes her nights, in medi- tating on its splendors, in changing its arrangements, pr in adding or- naments to it, and she speaks* of it as of a monument already half built. '* I was in "the nave of my cathedral ; I remarked a very odious . thing in the north aisle to-night ; I have changed the beadle's livery^ et cetera." * "Well, Miss," said the doctor, as he shuffled the cards, ^4>have you worked at your cathedral since yesterday?" " Yes, doctor ; a very hapj^ idea has occurred tome. I have re- placed the plain wall, which separates the choir from the sacristy, by foliage in wrought stone, in imitation of the Chapel of Clisson, in the Church of Josselin. It is much lighter." "Yes, certainly; but what news from Spain in the meantime? Ah ! is it true ? as I think I read this morning in the Revue des Deux- Mondes, that the young Duke of Villa-Hermftsa proposes to you to ter- minate your law-suit amicably by marriage ?" Here she tossed her head with a disdainful motion, shaking the ' bunch of faded ribbons which floated over her cap — " I should refuse distinctly," said she. • " Yes, yes, you say that, Miss ; but wha.t means then that sound of a guitiir which has been heard for some nights under your windows?" "Bafi!" " Bah ! And this Spaniard, in mantle and yellow boots, whom one sees roaming about the country and sighing incessantly ?" "You are a wag," said she, tranquilly opening her saufi^-box. "For the rest, ^nce you wish to know, my man of business wrote to me from Madrid, two days «go, that with a little patience we should, doubtless, 1 see the end of our sorrows." "Aha! I believe it, indeed ! Do you know where he comes from, your man of business ? From the tavern of Gil Bias, direct. He will receive your last crown, and will make a fool of you. Ah ! if you would only be advised to put down this folly and live tranquilly ! How would "millions serve you ? Are you not happy, and held in considera- tion — and what do you want more ? As to your cathedral, I do not speak of it, because it is a bad jest." " My cathedral is a bad jest only irf the eyes of bad jesters. Doctor Destnaresiii J besides,'! defend my rights; I contend for justice; the property belongs to me, I have heard it said a hundred times by my father, and it shall never go with my consent to people who are as much stran^rs to my family as you, my dear friend, or as the gentle- man/' added she, indicating me with a motion of her head. The Romance of a Poor Young Man. ^3 I had the childishness to be stung by this politeness, and I retorted : '' As far as I am concerned, you «re mistaken, for my family had the honor of marrying with yours and reciprocally." On hearing these heiiious words, Miss de Porhoet put the cards, ar- ranged like a fan, in her hand to her pointed chin-, and straightening her emaciated Ggure, she looked me in the face, in order to satisfy her- self as to the state of my reason, then regained her calmness, by a su- perhuman eôbrfc, and putting a pinch of Spanish snuif to. hftr thin nose, said : " You shall prove that to me, young man." Ashamed of my ridiculous boasting, and very much embarrassed by the inquisitive looks that it had drawn upon me, I bowed awk- wardly, without answering her. Our game was finished in a dull silence. It wasi ten o'clock, and I was preparing to steal away, when Miss de Porhoet touched my arm : " Mr. Steward, will' you do me the 'honor of accompanying me to the end of the avenue ?" I acrain bowed and followed her. JiJj/ 25. "We soon f aind Qurselvcs in the park. The little servant, in her pro- vincial costume, preceded us, carrying a lantern ; then IMiss de Por- hoet, holding with a careful hand the thin folds of her silk dress: she had coldly refused the ofier of my arm, and I walked at her side, my head lowered, and very ill-pleased with myself After some minutes of this gloomy walk — " Well, sir," said the old lady to me, " speak then, I am waiting. You have said that my family had be^n allied to yours, and as an alliance of this kind is a point of history entirel}i.new to nie, I shall be very nmeh obliged to you if you will enlighten me upon il." I had decided in my own mind that I ought, at any cost, to maintain the secret of my incognito. "Pardon luc. Miss," I replied, "I hope you will excuse a pleas- antry which escaped me in the course of conversation." *A plea.santry !" cried she, "the subject, in truth, affords much pleasantry. And what do you call, in this age, the. pleasantries that a'Vc openly addressed to an old, unprotected woman, and that no one would dare to allow himself to address to a man ?" ." Alas ! you leave me no retreat possible; nothing more remains for me but to confide in your discretion. I do not know, Miss, whether the name of Champccy d'lTauterive'is known to you?" " I know perl'octly, sir, the Champcey d'llauterives, who arc a good, an'cxccllent family of Dauphin}'. What conclusion do you draw from it ^" ' ''' " I am, to-day, the representative of this family." " You?" said Miss de Porhoet, making a sudden hjflt; " you are a Champccy d'Hatiterivc ?" " Yes, indeed." " That alters, the case," said she ; " give me your arm, cousin, and iell me your history." I believed that in the- present state of things it was best to conceal r'8:t.hing,.frprEi ,;ixei;.. . .jt^i-^rjpy^ateij^; th)e j^3,i^l^^l,r^^ thp .jaotisfprtupes giilafly' narrow ami low,,\jff|a;^U was^ ^'i^j^G^^^^ ,m& QF,^h^7a,Pg!l,Q&j%p*^ 4?^gfiit:^i";ot the, }ci»gs.of ';Q^ael^ stqppi^ng [^^.'^Up^ ib,re4^1cl 9fJ;^li^^pû(J>r iJi,to',,à littJe,pq,.rK)r' wfk a ' ,%i,çk, 4pQf .J ,p. î^e va^'o- inj^ai^-y' ^ .which.'^oy- càrefihmc'; bii'ithje.yffiiiitel-pigçe'I'i^^^ ç;yç!ryî'h;pg .spolie ^'qf rjgid Jîi3pj-jç^tj^, '^^à. wi|çj,çi,'9,n|^;,bi;Qjitl^ed cfiTifj^r^f, ir^i«^'d;,ôdor 'of ■/iri;S,/Sp3ai^^^ ■h^^xm'r'i^nh ,î^ppafi:^ïç,a^(?îpf^'tiç , dïug^.,.' r ..^jV/;- .,"^' Sit <îown,j.:s||;S^^];i^,|a^ ^pk^^:^èj;0mM^o^yMk' down, cousin, ior though in reality wç,,,^rg,flip|irj^î^tj.'';eg,,^d;q^M so. since Jeanne de Porhoet and Ilugîies de Cliaiîipcey had tlie'folîy, between you and me, the folly, notjo. increase the stock;, it would be ' agreeable to me, with j-our permission, to treat you as a cousin, in pri- vate.y.inrpydev to beguile the sad feeling of my loneliness for the. time, ■^be paèt is i,n/î.eed j:(.ijbteY,,hu!fe I-fîyi,l| sijigg^t .^113$; thoughts .which- ,^re ^ee the simpletons ■^qici' former ^e;!%ç(^,jid|pg-|;Q^4^ Ux ,tii^ij:,,ça^^ii|g§f^{ î),eâicle_s, I ayi oo.t T^iï^jfi^i^uif' :beljjevi|iT,g'., t^^^ 'pj^^enî,' to ijeWîPj • spme p.nio^g ustp.st^^^ S-f l;o\ûj.n-fi7: }h.^y%Àèi h'^%p^i^s^,e:^c^,ipj pjij^^ t'^i'^qas.,' .a, s,p,eçÀes'0j£'' ^f?h *^^. ^,i.^''M^)i>i9f ;'^l^s|^^<^j ^hèrft gp'Jd'^p^ ^i^^jifipice pass, ipr, n'oithip^j cordih'g to all appearance, 'the prbvîàentîàl j^ii^ÇjaUça'/jfîi.^^^^^ {ipQiand (^f.mipe^V:,,. ,,, , ,^ ..,,- t-.. r,.,;v-r-'j' '''vv^fr ''•"..'=! ^r^t^-'p' ■ Î ■expressedlw^^prpucl;^ |^f as at, Jl4aH^ipg;.'hè(ep .fîlos^R (??:# 'ftfR P -«Ïïuj tp. the worM the'ftQbTeyàn^.ruptjpn. pi', wh^cl^ ^.^''^'id'sa.^piif'cli, nepd^'apcl ■ lly^which it was spji^t^i^j 4îspfeei t^ pw^t^j; ,;J'hjeii^> j^ .ftwn part,'! [^îj^^^pai^^^r. iu^^ ' !^QVEi.}X^ when one has seen iii" ffie-GO^r^p pf^[sL\Jiiij&J0^3^'ipçt{^^ Wthy of his name,,:and four ;hrpthûrs,^j]7,cp'^,,P^^^ thpir father. Mil', by ^^ builet pr th.o steely w^^e.h one hg^^pè.^P^^^ pjDJepta of ûne''sr ^f-, fectioh and of one's- worship, s'ucçe9^Y^|;i)^^^ jax^'^ s^.al,l S|ppl, to. be oçcujjic^ abo«t ^'.m^ ',abuç^pt',tablç, or a tpi- 5f/^,#We or^ le^s •jft^ah.^.r ^ £hè only coi^defation, you may hielievè' thfft I shoulï'he very in'HlSl^rj ent about my miIU'ul^turi'' vtiTce,-''-tîiérd ■Will'be ?1 cîia]ù^er'(f^.' ■'élirons tegiïlarlykttii^Kcd;' fô''ttid sc^yic'ë'ttf cjiurcli'.' ' EacH\3uj"^^:. ■ '■tli'é^ zépôsé of ' i|î y 'f ôTÏl 'aiid lliii iàbh' '6t îrrjr'- a qtJe.^W'rs. ' ■ Thé' féet ■df^j^a mé '' " - '■■■ •'• '■ •-— - ' ■ - '•-^^■- . _ , ;V^Î),- , -, ■'■'■iiJrrës'dè PôrKôfet' 'tx36,fe|'it)iv''fi^^^ -■^¥^iy;6oimji," kd^^M'J'^i'klf^p^i^m'^yài^^^ so.'; 'My .:fiith'^i-;.\^lîo 'diâ not He, alt^a;ffe' hyurctJiac^^aHlit; telliiiiictïojj'iîxf tïic' dp'cict -idbgt^ii- dc^ntsof -- ^--^^ '----'- — '--'^ '---■- ^'-'^'^'i»-^- •«•'- ^ liéritàTic -fïèrfl- 'sHù, iàfter a pause/attd-ihnth^'in^à'cefcht'.-of'Wuçh^ri^^^ ^ if "T alii' îi6: ' cfazy T ani' oltî;'arid tïjofee '\iifetii; dotvri tlierçi'i'iiô^y ït Vieil. ''Tli»cy;t?^?o ^'«ïràwn me on' ftr'.fifteën'yedre '-^îili obè'dplay, ftrtd' i'ùbtl^cr,^' tIiey''àjto Tvaiting for- m'y''â'cht'h;'H^iiiëE \^jn'!'BÀd ^ttsrvfilimg^tld'you -ét'b-'tiiyj ''will not need' t(j Wait lbrig;j''ï>ia4t iîiàkç(;tb/ l'açt sacfUcdbire of'tlict/j ; attys, I feel it: ;T]^tiâ'"p6w Cnfclic^i^iy i^iy'sBfêîovc'f^-ivhich/^^1^^^ ik'rty heart ^6'mirdh'''di<:iii;hca-'6^ rd]ml8,Dd affecftôt^k'fill'-iiljlèr ^ie -ûiiké-thv.n one'sïone-;'tte6f"tii^ UkHih''''- ';^' ^' '^V"' ' " '''''"'' "' •'^"'ithè old Mfcmeël' 'Sîia-bhi^'éd'À^v^' tvro'ïér^^froni Wi^ffi^- '■è'f fôce^vfith hçr thÎYi liafiaS;iiiH(j'^c^^'a?stoîlé^-adtîcd': f'-faVd.JtY'St, '"tîiiuld'not do léiis.'fôf'tl)l3'Hbti'ir'lof Mi^ faiMly, 'àodVb~it;;mot^ve/--*Mf. '• difirié Laroque Tf Sl,'^- ïÈQtljidbfc '^/f- V^imj^li^- jr, 'ëVeh''to'''heV. difTi^^R^ei-'i'^ '^ ■■ '' iiy coiïferefice'\v,it|vtïic''il4' ladj;;lrts|iiV^^ ■^'rtli'I have er^^'^*"*'^^^'*'^'^ ^^'yi,^,^tU fn'f.i*^''"TW>i'iî>AVi iii^M\A)rr-V}%m^. "*^cided drawi • hW dçKr cath _ , ^ ., • ji^ r ' ?- p ^ iplckécd by this àtii3K;oh;'anci''àliù)(ist'bfc^j;'U'VfcÂiii'^ë^ ' '^4ieighbor with a' fbcïi^Tg' oF'aaora't^oh,''hti(à- 'c'dii'ttibdtàî' td 'è^y • Tt^VX'A- charity by devoting an album to, this mopup^entof the Porhoets>;\HbwIi ;'l 4m charged to file. /'', ^';' '-' = " .•••^ '^■-; "-«-C '- '\''-'^ ;* " 46 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. tlious^li slic could still keep up her ordinary correspondence, lier eyes were too weak to decipher the manuscripts in her possession, and she had shriuiTv from incurring the raillery oê her neighbors by engaging any to undertake this labor. In short, she accepted nit» as botli coun- sel and assistant. I have since most conscientiously studied the vo- luminous papers relating to her lawsuit, and I am convinced that the cause, which will soon have its final trial, is hopelessly lust Mr. Laube- pin, whq^n I have consulted, is of the same opinion, which I have con- cealed from my good old friend as far as possible. In. the meantime I aive her the pleasure of seeing me examine, paper by paper, her fami- ly archives, in whick she constantly hoped to discover some title deci- sive in her favor. Unfortunately, the^e archives are very extensive, and the pigeon-house, their place of depo^, is filled with them from the top to the bottom. " Yestei;day* I went early to Miss de Porhoet's, in order to complete the examination of bundle No. 115, which I began the previous eve- ning, before the hour for breakfast. The. mistress of the house had not risen, and I seated myself' quietly in the parlor, by consent of the Httle servant and began my dusty work. At the evid of an hour, as- I was gladly runningovcrthe last leaf of bundle 115,she entered", carrying with diflSculty an enormous package, carefully covered with.wlute linen. " Oood moyiing, my kind cousin," said she. "Hearing that y<^. gave yourself so much trouble for me this morning, I have given my- self tt little trouble for you. , I have brought you the .bundle No. 116." In some tale, there is an unhappy princess shut up in a tower, and a wicked fairy, who hates het family, imposes on her, time 'after time, work of the most extraordinary and impossible kind. I confess, that in spite of her many virtues, Miss de Porhoet seemed to rae at that .moment to be a near relative of that fairy. '• I dreamed last night," she continued, " that this bundle, contains the key to my Spanish treasure. You will oblige me v'erv much by not deferring. its examination. When this is done, jou will du me the hon- or to partake of a modestrepast that I intend to offer you in my arbor." I resigned myself to my fate. It is needless to say th:it the happy bundle 116 contained, like its predecessors, only the useless dust of ages. Precisely at noon, the old lady came to ofier nac her arm, and conducted me, with great cere*nony, into a little garden, set round with bos, and which formed, with an end of the adjoining meadow, all the actual domain of the Porhoets. The table was laid under au elm-tree, the branches of which were bent so as to form an arbor. It was a beau- tiful summer's day, and the sunlight, which here and thepe penetrated the shade, fell upon the brilliantly white and scented table-cloth. I had done honor to the poulet doié, the fresh salad, and to the bottle of old Bordeaux wine, which composed our feast, when she, wlio seemed de-- . lighted with my appetite, turned the conversation upon the Laroque family. " I confess to you," said she, " I do not like the old sailor. Ire- member when he came into this country, he had a large monkey which he dressed like a servant, and which seemed to understand him per- fectly. Thjs animal was a real pest to the neighborhood; and only a The Romance of a Poor Young Man. 4^1 man without education and without decency, could have been so ■^'rapt up in it. It was called a monkey, and- I am willing it should be, but in my heart, I think it was a negro, and the more so, because I have always suspected his master to liave been engaged in the slave-trade on the coast of Africa. However, the son, the late Mr-. Laroque, was a good man, and decidedly comme il faut. xVs to the ladies — I speak of Madame Laroque and her daughter, not of the widow Aubry, who is a mean woman of low birth^ — as to those ladies, I say, there is no praise which they do not merit." At this moment the sound of a horse's feet was heard in tli^ path just outside the garden wall, and in another instant some one knocked at a little door close to the arbor. " Well," said Miss, de Porhoet, '-who is there.?" I looked up and saw a black plume waving aljove the top of the wall. * "Open," said a clear, musical voice, gaily, "open, it is the Fortune of France !" " What! it is you, my darling," cried the old lady. " Piun^ quick, cousin." On opening the door, I was nearly thrown by Mervyn, as he dashed past me into the garden, and I perceived Marguerite, who was engaged in fastening her horsa to the bars of à fence. " Good morning, sir," said she, without exhibiting the least surprise at finding me there. Then gathering up the folds of her riding-habit under her arm, she entered the garden. " You are very welcome this beautiful day," said Miss de Porhoet; " kiss me. You have ridden very fast, mad girl, for your face is a bright purple, and fire seems literally flashing from your eyes. What can I offtir you ?" ,. " liCt us see," said Marguerite, glancin* at the table, "what have you there ? iNIr. Odiot has eaten everything. No matter, I am not hungry— I am only thirsty." *' I forbid your drinking in such a state as you are in ; but wait — there arc simie strawberries in that bed." " Strawberries ! 0, joy !" sang the young girl — " quick, sir I take one of those large leaves, and come with me." While Î was selecting one of the largest leaves from a fig-treè, Miss de Porhoot watched with' a smile of approbation the proud march of . her favorite across the garden-walks in the full sun : " Look at her, cousin," said she, in a low voice, "is she not worthy to belong to us?" Marguerite, tripping in her long skirt at almost every step as she bent over the strawberry-bed, hailed .with a little shout of joy each strawberry she found. She would now and then put one berry ifpon the tig-K'uf that I held in my hand, for every two she ate, to give her patience, \yhen she had gathered all she wished, we returned in trinmi)h to tlie arbor : the strawberries that we brought were suc^ared. and then cnten. " Ah ! that has done me good !" said Marguerite, throwing her hat on a seat and leaning against the hedge. " And now, to complete my happiness, my dear *ady, you will relate to me some history of former days, of the time when you were a beautiful warrior," f{ ililiii, tn'hçainng heri i;ep,9%' IVpmAge.'to' all the heroj^^^f.^^Vose .^igan.tjcr strug,- Jge^,,;WayalesBrc| ^^ most tender interest. Marguerite listeUj^cl, p,9 ^^thps^^^recitjil^.wKy Â^,^^ pjonatçj attention rwhiehtji^OQi^^ ^f 'L» ^H^'^ib^ffi^^?' ]^^% ,^.^^9%^ip^^ ;ïi ë i^gd; Viii gîfieji^ajp,I'*^oul4; (f^u^e^lif;!' i)fij,efla^arj,-a$^>nent. •ilieài Jea ithe.jeatr^pi^ ;;^nsigriiÉçfiD.çfi ;XD^fjpxy fiç^spn ap,4;??iy con^paif^j, %ii "the dyes of tlie wealthy heiress, ;^(,4^te-:afiê|t,e,.^fp_§ri^j[^y gave h.çp- ft?,^})- . uayaï?,ee, l^ivii]|2?thç^v 'bay/,n,g|.giy,çp,, jie?;f$hq,flihç^^^ e^d,uçationi|th9i)'she Ji^dhefself. receiye^rji^jWe, Qf|,'i^iî^itjslï;pô|ouJi^^^,j It is wel}- kr^çjwn ^tiiut- the Eji^glip.b giy,q wflMTÇnRhp%;e>j?^!i?;rÀage3,.,4JlL|})e iavdepepj^ftçfe ■wliich we feo wls^ely gràrit them on the day when any ,alau8q;pf jit:b§- jon \^^8 tîieveiWeîlefÇ th.e.^gaft^R .together ;;Ifhc!ldItdie.ist!ÎrrupwhilQ;abc mounted lier horse, and we went toward' t^QntsbatéaiU. .After ,wfiibîi«i ™tak,e# ^.ijf((!w MSfPfe V-ï? i^rôM-îS.ai^nshe/it-^iflalQîûittofdi^ui^h' y>wcï*'ere iBiwserjyi'&greealbly.soelctijï.Mflj • 'lis " ïiijik ;true,..JV|i.»s 5. (IrftMs-jï iha-èài9:i';'!^ ■^^''î*:',^-'^'? ^''^^ • "■■• -^1*' iAhl'i'^^^aot'ijeyfew^jliaig^' sé reâ'diM "'Jf 7(^1 hàWt'hc i(îék'èMt c-.jt-.aàmîré'yotVy'ô'u telM^h^^éiy ^ô^ôén.é'^ik'to^T^^ltlàlTiitlé longeK-'l a^ïi ^■fc^t id ■ the hltbltJ t)f Ijlièuîn^* h'^iniinW atttiôWg'lfc'Ti'tiy V ''^ïiey g-ènèràlîy' Hà^c i?d , , , - -.^. , „_. p^'àtn'not vëiT^^tire •Jtfi*t^tf'^àï*e--fiôïf^'ffeyiiVt èè%k-'te her most lasting esteem. • Aa I abandoned myself with all the egotism of passion to my secret ecstasy, some reflection of which was perhaps painted on my face, I was suddenly roused by these words, addressed to me in a toroe of af- fected tranquility : " Marquis de Champcey;. have there been many eowards in your family, before you ?" I rose; but fell back again upon my stone seat, turning a stupefied! The Romance of a Poor Young Man. 83 look in t^ie direction ^v^1crc I saw the vague outline of the young girl. One idea alone occurred to nie, a terrible idea, that fear and anxiety had affected her brain — that she was beqoujing crazy. " Marguerite !" I cried, without knowing even that I spoke. Thi.'? word completed her irritation doubtless. '• jMy God ! How odious he is I What a coward I Yes, I repeat it, what a coward 1" The truth began to dawn upon me. I descended one of the steps. '' Well, what is the matter ?" said I, coldly. "It is you," she replied with vehemence," "you have bribed this man — or this child — to imprison us in this tower. ïo-uiorrow I shall be lost — dishonored in public opinion — and I can belong only to you — such is your calculation, is it not ? ■ But this plan, I assure you, will not succeed better than the others. You know me very imperfectly if you think I shall not prefer dishonor, a convent, death, all to the dis- grace of uniting my hand — my life to yours. And when this infamous ruse had succeeded, when I had had the weakness — as certainly I shall not have — to give you my person, and what is of more importance to you, my fortune — in return for this beautiful stroke of policy. What kind of a man are you ? to wish for wealth, and a wife, acquired at such a price as this ? Ah, thank me still, sir, for not yielding to your wishes ; they imprudent, believe me, for if ever shame and public de- rision should drive me into your arms, I should have so much contempt for you that I should break your heart ! Yes, were it as hard, as cold as stone, I would draw tears of blood from it." "3Iisa Laroque," said I, with ail the calmness I, could assume, "T beg }'ou to recover younself, your reason. I assure you, upon my hon- or., that you insult me. Will you please to reflect 't Your suspicions have no probable foundation. I could not have possibly arranged the base treachery of which you accuse me, and how have I given you the right to believe me capable of it?" "All that I know of you gives me this right," cried she, cutting the air with her riding-whip. " I will tell you for once what has been in my soul for a long time. You came to our house under a borrowed name and character. W^e were happy, we were tranquil, my mother and I. You have brought us trouble, disorder, anxiety, to which we were before strangers. In order to attain your end, to repair the loss of your fortune, you have usurped our confidence — you have been reck- less of our repose — you have played with our purest, truest, most sacred feelings. You have broken our hearts, without pity. That is what you have done — or wished to do — it matters little which. I am very weary of it all I assure you. And when, at this hour, you come and pledgo mc your honor as a gentleman, I have the right not to believe it — and I do not believe it ." I was beside myself; I seized both her hands in a transport of ve- hemence, which controlled her. " Marguerite, my poor child, listen I I love you, it is true, and never did love more ardent, more disinterest- ed, more holy, enter into the heart of man. But you also, you love me ; you love mo, unfortunate ! and you kill me I You speak of a bruised and broken heart. Ah ! what have vou done with mine ? But 84 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. it is yours ; I leave it with you. As to my honor, I will keep it — it h untouched. And soon I will force you to acknowledge it. And upon this honor, I swear to you, that, if I die, you will weep for me ; that, if I live, never adored as you are — were you on your kneea before me — never will I marry you, till you are as poor as I, or I as rich as you ! And now pray ; ask God for miracles, it is time !" I pushed her away from the embrasure of the window, and sprung upon the upper step ; I had conceived a desperate plan, and I executed it with the^ precipitation of actual madness. As I have before said, the tops of the beeches and oaks, growing in the moat, reached the level of' the window. With the aid of my bent riding-whip, I drew toward me the extremity of the nearest branches ; I seized them on a venture, and leaped into space ;* I heard above my head my name ; " Maximilian !" uttered suddenly, with a distracted cry. The branches to which I was clinging bent with their whole length towards the abyss; then there was a crashing sound ; the tree broke under my weight, and I fell heavily to the ground. The muddy nature of the earth lessened the violence of the shock ; for, though I was wounded, I was not killed. One of my arms had struck against the sloping masonry of the tower, and I suffered such sharp pain in it that I fainted. I was roused by Marguerite's fright- ened voice ; " Maximilian ! Maximilian ! For pity's sake ! In the name of the good God, speak to me ! Forgive me !" I rose, and I saw her in the opening of the window, in the full moon- light, with her head bare, her hair dishevelled, her hand grasping the arm of the cross, and her eyes earnestly fixed upon the ground below. " Fear nothing," said I to her. "I am not hurt. Only be patient for an hour or two. Give me time to go to the chateau j it is the surest. Be certain that I will keep your secret, that I will save your honor as I. have saved mine." I got out of the moat with difficulty, and went to mount my horse. I suspended my left arm, which was wholly useless and very painful, with my handkerchief Thanks to the light of the moon, I easily found my way back, and an hour later I reached the chateau. I was told Doctor Desmarets was in the saloon : I went in at once, and found there some dozen persons, whose countenances wore an expression of anxiety and alarm. " Doctor," said I, gaily, on entering, " my horse took fright at his own shadow, and threw me on the road, and I am afraid my left arm is sprained. Will you see ?" ,;, " How, sprained !" said Desmarets, after unfastening the handker- chief. " Your arm is broken, my poor boy." Mrs. Laroque gave a little cry, and approached me. " This is then a night of misfortune," said she. I feigned surprise. " What else has happened ?" I cried. " I fear some accident has happened to my daughter. She went out on horseback at three o'clock, and it is now eight, and she has not yet returned." « Miss Marguerite ? Why I saw her" The Romance of a Poor Young Man. 85 ^' How? Where ? At what time ? Forgive me, sir ; it is the ego- tism of a mother." " I saw her about five o'clock on the road. We met. She told me, she thought of riding as far as the tower of Elven." " The tower of Elven ! She must be lost in the woods. We ought to go there promptly. Let orders be given." 5lr. de Bevallan at once ordered horses to be brought out. I affect- ed a wish to join the cavalcade, but Mrs. Laroque and the doctor posi- tively prohibited it, and I allowed mjTself to be easily persuaded to seek my bed, of which, in truth, I felt great need. Doctor Desraarets, after having applied a first -dressing to my injured arm, took a seat in the carriage with Mrs. Laroque who went to the vil- lage of Elven, to wait there the result of the diligent search that ]\Ir. de Bevallan would direct in the neighborhood of the tower. It was nearly ten o'clock when Alain came to announce to me that Marguerite was found. He recounted the history of her imprisonment, without omitting any details, save, be it understood, those which the young girl and I would alone know. The account of the adventure was soon confirmed by the doctor, then by Mrs. Laroque herself, and I had the satisfaction to see that no suspicion of the exact truth entered the mind of any one. I have passed the night in repeating, with the most fatiguing perse- verance, and with the oddest complications of fever and dreams, my dangerous leap from the old tower window, I cannot become accus- tomed to it. At each instant the sensation of falling through space rises to my throat, and I awake breathless. At length the day dawned, and I became calmer. At eight o'clock Miss de Porhoet came and in- stalled herself by my bedside, her knitting in her hand. She has done the honors of my room to the visitors who have succeeded each other all the day. Mrs. Laroque came first after my old friend. As she held with a long pressure the hand I extended to her, I saw two large tears roll down her cheeks. Has she then been taken into her daughter's confidence ? Miss de Porhoet has informed me that Mr. Laroque has kept his bed since yesterday. He has had a slight attack of paralysis. To-day he cannot speak, and his state causes great anxiety. It has been decided to hasten the marriage. Mr. Laubepin has been sent for from Paris ; he is expected to-morrow, and the marriage contract will be signed the day following, under his supervision. I have set up some hours this evening; but if I am to believe Dr. Desmarets, I am wrong to write with my fever, and I am a great block- head. Ociohcr Zd. It really seems as if some malign power took the trouble to devise the most singular and the most cruel temptations and to offer them by turns to my conscience and to my heart ! Mr. Laubepin not having ar- rived this morning, Mrs. Laroque asked me for some information which 86 • The RomaJice of a Poor Young Man. she needed in order to determine upon the preamble of the contract which, as I have said, is to be signed to-morrow. As I am condemned to keep m}^ room for several days longer, 1 begged Mrs. Laroque to send me the titles and private papers, which were in the possession of her father-in-law, and which were indispensable to me in order to solve the difficulties that had been pointed out. They soon brought me two or three drawers filled with them, that had been secretly taken out of Mr. Laroque's cabinet, while the old man was asleep, for he had always shown himself very jealous of his private papers. In the first which I took up the repetition of my own family name caught ray eye, and appealed to my curiosity with irresis- tible force. This is the literal text of the paper : '^ TO MY CHILDREN. " The name that I bequeath to you and that I have honored, is not my own. My father's name was Savage. .He was manager of a plan- tation of considerable size in the island, at that time belonging to France, of Saint-Lucie, owned by a wealthy and noble family of Dau- phiny, that of the Champceys d'Hauterives. My father died in 1793, and I inherited, although still quite young, the confidence they had placed in him. Towards the close of that sad year, the French Antil- les were taken by the English, or were delivered up to them by the insurgent colonists. The Marquis de Champcey d'Hauterive (Jacques- Auguste), whom the orders of the convention had not then attainted, commanded at that time the frigate Thetis which had cruised in these waters for three years. A large number of French colonists scattered through the Antilles had acquired large fortunes, with the loss of whicb they were now daily threatened. They contrived with the aid of com- mandant CI:j^mpcey to organize a flotilla of Kght transports, to whichi they transferred all their movable property, hoping to return to their native land, protected by the guns of the Thetis. I had long before received orders to sell the plantation which I had managed since my father's death, at any price, in view of the impending, troubles. On the night of the 14th of November^ 1793, I secretly quitted Saint Lucie, already occupied by the enemy, alone in a boat from Cape Mome- au-Sable. I carried with me the sum for which I had sold the planta- tion, in English bank notes. and guineas. Champcey, thanks to the minute knowledge he had gained of these coasts, had been able to elude the English cruisers, and had taken refuge in the difficult and obscure channel of the Gros-Ilet. He had ordered me to join him there this very night, and only waited my coming on board before issuing from the channel with the flotilla under his escort, and heading for France. On the way thither, I had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the English. My captors, masters in treachery as they are, gave me the choice to be shot immediately, or to sell them, by means of the niillion which I had in my possession, and which they would abandon to me^ the secret of the channel where the flotilla lay. I was young, the temptation was too strong ; a half hour later the Thetis was sunk, the flotilla taken, and Mr. de Champcey grievously wounded, A year passed, Tlie Romance of a Poor Young Man. 87 a sleepless year. I became mad, and I resolved to revenge myself on the accursed English for the tonnents which racked me. I went to (xuadaloupo, I changed uiy name, and devoting the greater part of the ■price of my treason to the purchase of an armed brig, I fell upon the English. For fifteen years I washed in their blood and ray own the stain I had made, in an hour of weakness, on my country's flag. Al- though more than three-fourths of my real fortune has been acquired in glorious battles, its origin is none the less as I have stated. '' On my return to France, in my old age, I inquired into the situa- tion of the Champccys d'Hauterives; they were happy and rich. I continued, th-ereforc, to hold my peace. May my children forgive me ! I could not gain courage to blush before them while I live ; but my death w'îl reveal this secret to them ; they will use it according to the inspiration of their consciences. For myself, I have only one prayer to make them : there will be, sooner or later, a final war between France and her opposite neighbor ; we hate each other too much ; we must ruin them, or they will ruin us ! If this war breaks out during the lifetime of my children or my grand-ehildrcn, I desire that they shall present to the government a corvette, armed and equipped, on the sole condition that she shall be named the Savage, and be commanded by a Breton. At every broadside that she sends on the Carthaginian shore my bones will ehake with pleasure in my grave ! "lliCHARD Savage, called Laroque." The recollections that were roused MRny mind, on reading this dreadful confession, confirmed its correctness. I had heard mjr father, twenty times, relate, with a mixture of pride and sorrow, the incident in my grandfather's life which was here spokeia of Only it was be- lieved in my family that Richard Savage was the victim, and not the actor, in the treason which had betrayed the commander of the Thcti.s. I now understood all that had struck me as singular in the old sailor, îind in particular his timid bearing toward me. My father had always told me that I was the living portrait of my grandfather, the Marquis Jacques; and without doubt some glimmering of this resemblance pen- etrated occasionally his clouded brain, and even reached the unquiet conscience of the poor old man. Hardly was I master of tiiis secret, when I fell into a terrible quan- it good. I de- cided therefore to leave Miss de Porhoet in ignorance of a discovery, the result of which was so problematical, and limited myself ^o sending the title to Mr. Laubepin. Having received no news respecting it, I had forgotten it an)idst the personal anxieties which had overwhelmed me. Contrary to my unjust suspicions, the Spanish government had not; hesitated to redeem the kingly promise of Philip V., and as soon as a supreme decree had adjudged the immense property of the Porhoets to the crown, it nobly restored them to the legitimate heir. It was nine o'clock at night, when I descended from the carriage at the threshold of the humble house where this almost royal fortune had 80 tardily come. The little servant opened the door. She was weep- ing. 1 heard the grave voice of Mr. Laubepin saying at the head of the staircase : " It is he!" I hastened up the stairs. The old man grasped my hand firmly, and led me into ^liss de Porhoet's chamber, without speaking. The doctor and the Curé of the town, stood silently in the shade of a window. Mrs. Jiaroque was kneeling on a hassock near the bed : her daughter was at the bed's head supporting the pil- lows upon which reposed the head of my poor friend. When the suf- ferer perceived me, a feeble smile spread over her features, now sadly changed ; she extended one hand, but with evident pain. I took it as I kneeled beside her, and I could not restrain my tears. " My child !" said she, "my dear child I" Then she looked earnestly at Mr. Laube- pin. The old notary took up from the bed a sheet of paper, and ap- peared to continue an interrupted reading : " For these rca.sons, I appoint by this will, written by my own hand, Maximilian Jacques Marie^Odiot, Marquis de Champccy d'llauterive, noble in heart^as well as by birth, general, legatee of all my property both it) France and in Spain, without reserve or condition. Such is my will." <* JOCELYNDE Je.\NNE, Counters dc Porhoet-Gael." 98 The Romance of a Poor Young Man. In the excess of my surprise, I rose abruptly and was about to speak," ■when Miss dc Porhoet, dsjnving my hand gently baclc, placed it in Mar- guerite's. The dear girl started at this sudden contact, and laying her blushing face on the pillow, whispered a few words into the dying wo- man's ear. For myself, I could not speak ; I could only fall on my knees and thank God. Several minutes passed thus in solemn silence, when Marguerite suddenly withdrew her band from mine, and made a sign of alarm. The doctor approached hastily ; I rose. Miss de Por- hoet's head had fallen backward; her face was radiant with joy, and her eyes turned upward as il fixed on heaven; her lips half opened, and she spoke as it in a dream : " Oh God ! Good God ! I see it — up there Î yes — the choir — the golden lamps — the windows — the sun, shi- ning everywhere ! Two angels kneeling before the altar — in white robes — their wings move — they are living !" This exclamation was smothered on her lips, on which the smile remained; she shut her eyes as if falling asleep, then suddenly a look of immortal youth spread over her face. Such a death, crowning such a life, was full of instruction to njy s(iul I begged them to leave me alone with the piiest in the chamber. This' pious watching will not be lost to me I hope. More than one forgotten or doubtful truth appeared to me with irresistible evidence upon that face stamped with a glorious peace. My noble and sainted friend ! I knew that you had the virtue of self-sacrifice; I saw that you had re- ceived your reward ! Some hours alter midnight, yielding to fatigue I went to Tjreathe the fresh air for a moment. 1 descended the staircase in the dark, and avoiding the saloon, where I saw a light, I entered the garden. The night was extremely dark. As I approached the turret at the end of the little inclosure, I heard a slight noise under the elm-tree ; at the same instant an indistinct form disengaged itself from the foliage. My heart beat violently, my sight grew dim, I saw the sky fill with stars. " Marguerite !" I said, stretching out my arms. I heard a little cry, then my name murmured softly, then — then I felt her lipsjneet mine ! I have given Helen half my fortune; Marguerite is my wife. I close these pages forever. I have nothing more to confide to them. That can be said of men, which has been said of nations : " Happy those ^vho have no history !" THE END. .^■. -p^y^ A WEST & JOHNSTorsrs \ ' LIST OF • ■ } I NSW pmtCATtONS. i 'FANTINE— First number of Les Misérables. By Victor IIupo. $2 00. ) KESOLiKCES OF THE SOUTHERN FIELDS AND FORESTS-By Francis P.n ( Porcher, Surgeon P. A, C S., pp. tiOl. $10.. ) (THE AMERICAN UNION— Its Effect on Nationjil Character and Policy. By; ( James Spence. 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