Frances Mary Peard

“ Nathalie, dearest,” his voice sank, “Monsieur Georges wants us to have rejoicings—something to mark my home-coming. How can one have a merrymaking over what grew out of misery and weakness? If it had not been for you the weakness would have cost me my life; and as it is, my poor mother is left a wreck. There is nothing to be proud of, though I hope I am thankful. What do you say?”
She clung to him. “Dear love, no! Not merrymaking. One can show one’s thankfulness in some other way.”
“Raoul will be a better man than I have been.” ”

“ She was as white as he, but all her trembling had gone.
“Hush, Léon,” she said, firmly; “the shock has unnerved you so much that you do not know what you think or say. Whatever is done, even if you do go away as your mother wishes you, it could not be yet, for you could not reach the railway until dark; and you must have food. And if you stay, there is no use acting as though all were lost. Let him go to our room, madame, and come again to you later on. Come, dear love.”
Mme. de Beaudrillart made no opposition, for her strength had failed her. ”

“ At one time, unless rumour lies even more than is usual with her, I might have got possession of it myself. But that, I at once admit, would not have suited me. Poissy without the De Beaudrillarts would be like a body without a soul; you two have to keep together, if you are to hold your position in the world; and now that Nathalie is to become one of you, it is my business to see that you do keep together. You comprehend! For what is past I care nothing; I put no inquiries, it is over. It is what is to come which is my affair. There must be no more follies, no more extravagances. ”

“ You suppose that no one will have the heart to hurt your dear Léon; and that when they hear that fine story of his, judge and jury will be so much impressed that it will require no more to make them acquit him. A baron, the Baron de Beaudrillart, the master of Poissy, one of the oldest names in the country—you flatter yourself, no doubt, that all this will prepossess them in his favour, to say nothing of a weeping wife, clasping her hands and crying, ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, for the love of Heaven!’ You know nothing at all, my girl. ”

“ We see the slips and hear the clatter of falling stones more quickly than we notice the gradual gain, inch by inch, which to clearer eyes than ours means all the difference.
And so, though some of her dreams had flown forever, and there were lines written on her face which no coming springs or summers could efface, Nathalie was happy. When Claire had talked of Léon having no soul, she was not far out, for something which he had not shown before had been born in him by the strength of his wife’s love. Life looked different to him ”

“ She babbled to M. Georges in her small, precise voice of all the little interests which filled her life, while she imagined that her talk was only of Léon; and he listened with the most profound admiration. What could be more estimable than the good works which occupied her morning, noon, and night! What more beautiful than her devotion! She showed him with pride the embroideries and vestments which were under her charge, and he helped her to refold them, as she said, with far more neatness than Rose-Marie. ”

“ Had Mme. de Beaudrillart been herself, it could never have happened, but the poor woman was struck down and shattered by the storm which had shaken the very foundations of Poissy, and all her old landmarks were swept away. And M. Georges had been such a stay, such a support in the hour of trouble! Everybody turned to him. His unfailing helpfulness, his good sense, his courageous loyalty attracted them to the little man. Poor Claire! She had been attracted first of all, and it was hard that having stood up for him when others blamed, she should be obliged to look on and see Félicie chosen. ”

“ From her she should know everything. Like an indomitable fate she walked towards her sister-in-law’s room, and there, as has been seen, found her unconscious on the floor. Nature forced her to go to her help, but as she knelt down she was full of contempt; for her own constitution was iron, and she held a collapse such as this a proof of miserable weakness. She read in it that Nathalie would never rise to the occasion, would suffer and make others suffer, and her own thoughts flew to plans for shielding Léon, or, at worst, of helping him to avoid the scandal. ”

“ Wrong or right, honour or dishonour, if a bribe could have stopped the accuser’s mouth, M. Bourget would have urged its payment.
As for Mme. de Beaudrillart, she, too, was shaken. Passionately to proclaim her belief in her son was only the weapon caught up by a wounded heart with which to defend itself. She had covered them with tenderest excuses, but she knew, in that deeper consciousness where she dared not penetrate, that Léon had committed a thousand follies in those old days which she had hoped were buried. Alas, sin is an unquiet ghost. It walks. ”

“ Read, Nathalie’s strong fingers closed vice-like round the letter, a slow fire mounting to her eyes threatened scorching. She raised her look with difficulty, letting it rest upon the crouching figure of her husband, and made an impatient step towards him.
“If one man has failed, we must find another. Let us go to Paris at once.”
He murmured an inarticulate sound.
“Do you hear, Léon? There is no time to lose. That Monsieur Rodoin has been half-hearted throughout; I saw it from the first. There are plenty of others—come.” ”

“ Nathalie’s voice carried anguish. “I shall urge him to meet it.”
Claire made a step towards her. “Meet it? Do you mean own that he has done it?”
Nathalie encountered her eye, her voice, without quailing. She was vaguely sorry for these others who were suffering; but all her emotions fastened themselves upon her husband, and remembering some words he had let drop, she started. “Where is Léon?” she cried.
“With his mother. You need not be afraid for him,” said Claire, scornfully; “he has always taken care of himself, and he will do so to his dying day. ”

“ She was happier, for one thing, though she blamed herself for the selfishness of her happiness, since evidently a cloud of uneasiness rested on Poissy. Mme. de Beaudrillart did not confide in her daughter-in-law; but a change had come over her since their departure for Paris; age seemed to have suddenly laid a grasping hand upon her; she was silent, grave, rigid. Léon’s moods varied from gloom to gaiety. Claire indulged in taunts as to the delights of Paris. Only Félicie’s small interests kept her busily occupied. Her own father’s advice had amazed Nathalie. ”

“ What can we do to keep him? I said to my husband that his family should persuade him to marry, for nowadays there are always plenty of girls going about with really fine fortunes; and he need not be particular as to family,” she added, with a laugh. “He, if any one, could afford a roturier for his father-in-law.”
“I agree with you,” said Mme. de Beaudrillart, calmly; “but I am afraid that a fortune has no attraction for Léon. He is unlike other young men, for he was born with romantic ideas, and I, for one, cannot wish it to be otherwise.” ”

“ Charles inquired daily, but M. de Cadanet never made allusion to Poissy. To lie and watch the flies on the ceiling, the sunshine travelling round from shadow to shadow; to frown with pain or impatience; to listen to the ticking of the gilt clock on the mantel-piece, or the muffled rattle of a carriage; stung by these new prickings to try to move the leg and arm to which force was slowly, slowly creeping back—this was M. de Cadanet’s daily life. No one could understand him except Mme. Lemaire ”

“ Happily, those two love each other.”
To say that M. Bourget loved his grandson was not enough—he adored him. From the first moment when he had gazed, awe-struck, at a small red contorted face, lying in the capacious arms of the nurse, his joy, his pride, his self-satisfaction had been almost beyond control. If his acquaintances had avoided him before, they fled from him now. To know that this true, actual Beaudrillart—not Beaudrillart by grace of marriage, but by birth and actual right, was also his—Bourget’s—grandson, proved sufficient to turn his head, and lead him into extravagant follies. ”

“ Mademoiselle Félicie looks as if she wanted fresh air, poor thing! I dare say it’s a trial to her to be so hard of hearing.”
“Sometimes it’s more a trial to hear at all, Monsieur Bourget,” said Claire, gazing at the ceiling. She burst out when they were alone: “Heavens! are we to have that odious man inflicted upon us whenever he chooses to think that Poissy requires his superintendence? And Léon has no doubt gone away on purpose? If he presents us with a father-in-law in the shape of a builder—or a mason? Which was it?”—“Oh, a builder. Fauvel is the mason.” ”

“ He should have insisted,” cried Mme. de Beaudrillart. “If Léon had but understood the gravity of the case, or if I had but known! But Monsieur Georges is a man who lays infinite stress on minute points, and fails altogether to impress you with what is important.”
M. Georges was dismissed; and this was perhaps the only deliberate harshness Léon ever committed in his life. Then the young baron set himself to look into his debts, and get together the total sum; it amounted to more than two hundred thousand francs.
“There is but one thing,” said Mme. de Beaudrillart; “you must marry.” ”

“ If she could have thought of herself she would have cried out to him to take away his eyes and their anguish, for if Léon’s soul had been wanting before, it had come to him now, and gazed at her; and it needs an angel or a devil to bear the sight of a human soul wrung with misery. Curiously enough, she felt all the time that if she had known about the world and its ways, her husband would have listened to her more readily. ”

“ Mme. de Beaudrillart’s self-control began to forsake her, and all unconsciously the sight of her son clinging to his wife impelled her into opposition. She cried out:
“But suppose they will not believe! Suppose he is—” She choked at the word “convicted.”
Nathalie felt her husband shiver, and pressed her lips on his hair.
“He will bear it,” she breathed.
“No, no,” cried his mother, starting up, “this is asking too much! You are no judge. You cannot tell what he, what we all, would suffer. Léon, speak! Flight is your only hope. Do not listen to your wife.” ”

“ The table is solid. You lose your authority by always scolding. Come here, Raoul, and tell me how the pony goes. And Jean? Does he do what you tell him?”
Driving back that afternoon, Nathalie reflected, as she reflected often, on the difficulties which lay about the bringing up of her little son. Indulged on all sides, with the strong family will quite ready to develop itself, it seemed as if his path was to be strewn with rose-leaves. She had absolutely no one to help her, except Jacques Charpentier, Jean’s father, an honest, sensible man, devoted to the family, and no less so to Mme. Léon. ”

“ Félicie exclaimed, indignantly:
“The President! As if I should ever consent to Léon’s inviting him! We have had a queen at Poissy—”
“Not a very respectable one, was she!” inquired Nathalie, wickedly.
“Nathalie! I believe in your heart you are a radical. It all comes from your reading those dreadful books. And I am sure you will just speak to Léon as if it were a matter of no consequence, instead of pointing out to him seriously how much depends on it.”
She was almost crying, and Mme. Léon hastened to reassure her. ”

“ Her life was emptier than that of Félicie—who, indeed, had a conviction that she was a most busy person—for Claire hated fancy-work, and despised the small fripperies which more than satisfied her sister. She had the appetite of intellect, with nothing to feed it on, and a love of power in a very contracted realm. Her single life left her harder than her mother, and she was more irritable, though this was perhaps owing to a penetrating knowledge of herself. A Frenchwoman in the provinces, with her tastes, and no means of satisfying them, may have a very dull time of it indeed. ”

“ Let them go their way; you and I can be all in all to each other, if you remain your own dear self—the Nathalie I adore. I wish for nothing more.”
How could she resist the sweet charm of such words! While he spoke life seemed easy, and happiness eternal. Full of good-will to all men, she never doubted that time would win her the hearts of the women who loved Léon. She had a strong and noble quality of justice in her character, which gave her the power of judging calmly, and even enabled her to look at herself from the unsympathetic point of view of another person. ”

“ Once when there were tableaux at Poissy, and old dresses had been drawn from a great armoire, it might have been supposed that the very Claire of two centuries back had stepped out of her frame in the picture-gallery. She was invariably exquisitely neat even in the house, and if her temper was quick, it seldom placed her at a disadvantage. Yet, when Jean caught sight of her, he looked from side to side with helpless longing to escape, and finding it impossible, an ugly, sullen expression gathered in his face, which up to this point had only displayed embarrassment. ”

“ What M. Georges had said threw no fresh light upon the transaction. He believed what he had been told, and what no doubt the whole family at Poissy had believed. Only the young baron knew if any dark secret was connected with the money which had been procured so fortunately at the time of his greatest need. If it were so, circumstances had no doubt thrown the knowledge into the hands of a man—perhaps already an enemy—who had no scruple in using it for his own ends.
But what had Léon done with the money which he had ostensibly applied to the payment of the debt? ”

“ M. Bourget looked at his cup with admiration, and choked down his desire to ask for a teaspoonful of absinthe. Léon had vanished to avoid hearing possible sharp speeches, and nothing could have been more frigid and uncomfortable than the conversation when the guest again descanted upon the work of repair which should be speedily undertaken at Poissy.
“My son must do what he thinks best, monsieur,” announced Mme. de Beaudrillart, with her grandest air; “at any rate, he is more likely to know what is needed than a stranger. For myself, I think the less done the better.” ”

“ And look here, understand from me that it is Madame Léon who is your mistress, and that you are always to do what she tells you. You comprehend?”
“Yes, monsieur,” said Jean, in a doubtful tone.
“Good! then now take Monsieur Raoul to the house, and find his bonne or somebody. We have had quite enough of this. My fishing spoiled and all! Not that I was doing much good. Come, Nathalie, the least you can do to make up is to come back with me after my rod. Let that baby go; he is not the person to scold.”
“Dear Léon, he is quite old enough; he must be made to understand.” ”

“ How can you, a woman, with every want provided for, and with absolutely no temptation to spend money—how can you possibly judge of the difficulties of a young man in Paris? A young man, too, such as Léon, impulsive, generous, attractive.” Claire agreed. “Yes, he is very attractive.”
“And very generous,” added Félicie, looking up again, and holding her needle in the air. “When I spoke to him the other day about the pilgrimage, he told me we might count on him for fifty francs. Now Madame de Montbreuil assured me with tears that her husband would give no more than twenty.” ”

“ It is my turn now to scold you, for I don’t think you are so sociable with your neighbours as you might be. Here you have nothing but women, women! It will do you good to be away from us for a little; indeed, I often wish you would run up to Paris for a few days. You must have many friends there.”
“None, now. And I hate Paris,” said Léon, sharply.
“You puzzle me when you say that,” she returned, looking at him with a smile. “And as for friends, at any rate there must be that old Monsieur de Cadanet, whose name your mother suggested as Raoul’s second. ”

“ I have a right to speak. He has ruined us all. We can never face the world again. Oh, where can we hide ourselves? What will come next?”
Anger, misery, choked her. She rushed from the room, and paced up and down the picture-gallery, darting lightning reproaches at Léon, at his wife, at herself. Her brain was in a whirl. Félicie, who was on her way down-stairs, trailing pink wreaths behind her, stopped and peeped in at the door, hearing sounds. She would have retired, but that Claire seized her. ”

“ Maître Barraud was an excellent fellow, but his weakness was vanity.
“A boy!” he repeated, in a nettled voice. “A boy! I should like her to know—Well, what is all this about? Of course I must see the woman in order to scrape together a few materials upon which to string as many words as there are onions on the stick a Breton carries over his shoulder. And I know what I shall get out of the interview: protestations, and exclamations, and maunderings about false accusations, and an ill-used angel of a husband, and all the lot of it. Peste! a woman at the back of a case is the very devil!” ”

“ For she was sure that if ever man had been injured by his bringing up, Léon was that man, and here were all the same influences, and more, at work. Mme. de Beaudrillart spoiled her grandchild outrageously. His father laughed at his naughtiness, and even M. Bourget could see in them nothing but an added charm. All the thwarting, all the reasoning, was left to the mother, forced often into strictness by the indulgence of others. The boy had a fine nature, brave and true; but in him, too, the Beaudrillart will was already asserting itself, and Nathalie, looking at him, trembled and prayed. ”