Mrs. Molesworth

“ The fever has been our best friend after all.’
”‘Yes,’ said Marguerite simply, ‘your children with my mother and little Angèle—they are all at rest and happy in heaven.’
”‘But how can there be a heaven—how can there be a God, if He lets us suffer so horribly? Suffer till there is no good, no gentleness, no pity left in us, my girl. There are times when I feel as if the devil were in me, when I would enjoy the sight of their suffering, they who treat us worse than their dogs—dogs indeed! see my lady’s little pampered poodles! ”

“ I will gag Edmond before he has time to make a sound—he is so feeble it will be easily done; then if you can take the baggage I will carry him on my back till we are well out of hearing, and then explain all.’
”‘He will struggle fearfully,’ said Edmée. ‘Perhaps—perhaps, Pierre, if I whisper in his ear that it is we who are doing it to save him, he will be quiet.’
”‘After he is gagged, if you like,’ said Pierre; ‘but not before. We must run no risk; our lives hang on the thinnest of threads, Edmée. ”

“ A shudder ran through Pierre as he thought where but too probably they were; probably enough in one or other of the prisons, crowded with many as gentle, as high-bred and delicate as they; possibly—for even children of Edmée’s age had not been spared—possibly no longer alive; those innocent heads might already have fallen under the cruel guillotine! And the boy felt sick with fear and horror. But still it was also possible that they had escaped. The Countess had foreseen the danger, and spoken of plans for safety. ”

“ At the door of one of the miserable cottages stands a young girl of about fifteen, crying bitterly. Cold though it is, she scarcely seems to feel it. She looks up and down the road as if watching for some one, then she re-enters the cottage, which is bare and miserable beyond description, and tries to coax into flame a little heap of twigs and withered leaves which are all the fuel she possesses. ”

“ The pretty young Countess grew thin and careworn with sorrow and anxiety and nursing, for she scarcely ever left his bedside, day or night. It was little Edmée’s first meeting with trouble. The Marquis de Sarinet deferred going to Paris till he saw how his brother-in-law’s illness was to end, and he came two or three times to Valmont. For if he had a tender spot in his cold selfish heart it was love for the young sister who had when but a child been confided to his care, and though he scarcely understood it he pitied her distress. ”

“ I thought of him as when I saw him five years ago.’
”‘Ah, yes,’ said Nanette; ‘but since then he is much changed. And he worships the very ground our young lady stands on. No wonder! what would he have been but for her and her mother? For neither his father nor mother can bear the sight of him.’
”‘Poor fellow,’ said Pierre. ‘Then he cannot be much of a protector to our ladies in case of need.’
”‘No indeed,’ said Madame Delmar. And from that moment Pierre only thought of his childish enemy with profound pity. ”

“ There is no other house at Valmont with an oven like ours. When I am a man, if I cannot afford an oven of my own in my kitchen, I shall—”
“What?” asked Marie.
“I shall be a baker,” said Joseph, solemnly. “I always stop before the door of Bernard, the baker, to smell the bread, especially on Saturdays, when he is baking the Sunday cakes and his Reverence’s pie. Ah, how it smells!”
“A baker!” said Pierre with disdain. “Not for worlds! To see Bernard stewing away in his bakehouse till he can scarcely breathe is enough to make one hate the thoughts of cakes. A baker indeed! ”

“ The taking of the Bastille was the signal for outrages through many parts of the country. Châteaux were burnt, convents sacked and destroyed, many even among the superior farmer class, who had had nothing to do with the government or the oppression of the poor, whose only crime was that through their industry and economy they had grown richer than their neighbours, suffered as well as their betters. In Paris itself many of the most conspicuous among the nobility were dragged by the mob from their houses and put to death in a horrible way, by being hanged on the street lamps. ”

“ Till the year Edmée was ten years old—that was the year 1787—she had never again seen her cousin Edmond. She and Pierre often talked of him, for in her secluded life his two days’ visit had been an event she had never forgotten: they wondered how he was growing up, if he were less petulant and self-willed, if he were strong and healthy now—for Pierre especially had always an idea that to be delicate and sickly was an excuse for almost anything; he, who had never known a day’s illness, scarcely an hour’s discomfort, could imagine nothing more unbearable. ”

“ But you are too young and too pretty, Louise, to get in the way of shutting yourself up. And for my little niece—for a girl with her prospects, sole heiress to all the de Valmont property—Paris is a necessity. I have a right to an opinion; Edmée, you remember, comes next to Edmond in our succession, and Edmond, poor fellow, is still a delicate lad.’
”‘Oh, brother, I trust not; I trust he may grow up strong and healthy!’ exclaimed the Countess, shocked at the Marquis’s cool way of talking of his son, and certainly with no desire to see her little Edmée in his place. ”

“ I never wish to be ill-bred. My father would be shocked if he heard of that.’
”‘Would he not be more shocked at your throwing your stick at Pierre?’
”‘Ah no,’ said Edmond; ‘in that there is nothing ill-bred. That is a different thing altogether from saying anything to annoy a lady.’
”‘But,’ said Edmée, her eyes flashing again, ‘I am much more angry with you for hitting Pierre than for speaking against Valmont.’
”‘Really? Well, I am sorry to have vexed you,’ said Edmond, ‘I like you very much, Edmée, and I want you to like me and Sarinet, for when I am quite grown up I mean to marry you. ”

“ The two days before in the diligence—ah, that was tiring. My great-uncle Ludovic came the first day’s journey with me, by my lady’s wish; you see what care she takes of me—of every one about her.’
”‘As ever—our dear lady!’ said Madame Germain.
”‘Ah, if there were more like her!’ said Nanette. ‘Things and feelings would not be what they are coming to, if there had been more like her. The Marquise now—for all she looks so tiny and delicate—ah! she has a hard and cruel heart—or no heart at all. She is a fit wife for her husband. And how they are hated! ”

“ As for Edmée, she was sobbing too much to say farewell to her childhood’s friend at all. But the last view he had of her face was drowned in tears—the dear little face that had so seldom been aught but radiant and sunny.
“She brightened up a little when they started again. It was the first time in her remembrance that she had been so far from home, and novelty has always great charm for a child. Travelling was not in those days as it is now, when the public conveyances go to Paris at least twice a week, and one does not require to be a great lord to be able to visit distant places. ”

“ That Victorine—do you remember her, mamma Germain?—she told me things I hardly understood, about the way people live there—how the rich despise the poor, and the poor hate the rich. And sometimes she would shake her head and say, “Ah, one would live to see many things changed—she herself might be a great lady yet; but if she were a great lady she could know how to enjoy herself—she would not choose for her friends common peasants.” That she said to vex me, you know.’
”‘Ah yes, she was not a nice girl,’ said Madame Germain.
”‘And she is still with my aunt, the Marquise,’ went on Edmée. ”

“ However, I can understand how you mean, Nanette,’ and he too gave a deep sigh. Ruin to their young mistress would not be prosperity for Valmont.
”‘And who is taking your place now, my good Nanette,’ asked mother Germain. ‘Is that girl whom Edmée disliked so—that Victorine, still with the Marquise?’
”‘Yes,’ said Nanette. ‘I cannot bear her. She is clever and cunning, and no one can please the Marquise as she does. She flatters her lady to her face, but behind her back she speaks worse than any of the servants. ”

“ Never mind about being tall and strong. You must above all be very good and brave, and yet kind to everybody,—like a true knight in some of Pierre’s stories. I think there are no true knights now.’
”‘Pierre again!’ muttered the boy discontentedly. ‘Tell me, Edmée, what do you mean by a true knight?’
”‘One who is always good and kind to everybody,’ said Edmée. ‘Not only to ladies and gentlemen, but to poor people, and weak and unhappy people, and who will not let any one be cruel. ”

“ So, as one always loves those to whom one has been of great service, Madame Germain loved little Edmée dearly, and Edmée loved her. There was nowhere in the village she so much liked to go as to the Germains’ little cottage, and no child she cared to play with as much as Pierre, who was only four years older than she, but so gentle and careful with her that no one felt any anxiety when they knew that the little lady, ‘Mademoiselle,’ as she was called, was with Pierre Germain. ”

“ The very greatness of the evil brought out nobleness that in other times might have never been called forth. Among the many who suffered the horrors of the dungeon and the guillotine were numbers of pure and good and benevolent people, who, though belonging to the rich upper classes, had never treated their poorer neighbours unjustly or unkindly, but had done their utmost to make them happier. These met death with calmness and courage beautiful to see, though their hearts were wrung with sorrow for the misery of their country. ”

“ The rich lived in the greatest luxury, squandering money which had been ground out of the sore toil and labour of the poor. And the poor hated and abhorred the rich, till at last all classes, alike but in one thing—that they listened only to their own evil passions, caring nothing for the voice of God in their consciences, till that voice, so long disregarded, grew silent, and the good angels of the unhappy country seemed to fly away in mournful despair—were plunged into a sea of horror and bloodshed. ”

“ They live so simply—never going to parties or anything of that kind, for which indeed, Mademoiselle is too young, and my lady too sad she says—that they need but little attendance. And there is a poor girl there—a Sarinet girl—whom my ladies have taken a fancy to. Marguerite Ribou is her name. She is a pretty, gentle girl, about my own age. I taught her what I could; perhaps with such kind mistresses she may get on,’ said Nanette, with a slightly patronising tone.
”‘A Sarinet girl! I wonder to hear they have any one from Sarinet in the household,’ said mother Germain. ”

“ Never in after-life did he forget the faces he saw—on this ghastly journey to death; some strong in despair, some fainting and unconscious as if already dead, a few, but very few, shrieking wildly for mercy to their brutal keepers—others, many even, with looks of sweet resignation and noble courage, to whom the guillotine was indeed but the gate of Heaven. ”

“ The simple story I am going to tell you will show you this, I hope—will show that even in the darkest pages of our poor old world’s much troubled history, bright lines stand out like rays of sunshine through a cloudy sky, telling of noble courage and self-sacrifice for others, of faithfulness till death—of trust in God through the most awful trials. ”

“ It is no such very news. It is only what we have always known would have to be, sooner or later. You are growing a big girl, Edmée—indeed, I should no longer call you thus by your name.’
”‘Ah yes, yes, mamma Germain,’ interrupted the child; ‘to you I must always be Edmée.’
“Madame Germain smiled.
”‘You will always be as dear to me as my own child, whatever name you are called by,’ she said. ‘But as I was saying, Edmée, you are growing a big girl; there are many things young ladies of your station need to learn that cannot be taught in a village like Valmont. ”

“ It is not a place for good, simple people. All these new ideas!—ah, don’t let us talk of all that. I have so much to tell you of our dear ladies; Paris or no Paris, it has been a terrible grief to me to leave them,’ and her pretty bright eyes filled with tears.
”‘We were just talking of them when you came up,’ said Madame Germain, ‘and wondering when we should see you. Sit down, my child; in our surprise at seeing you we are forgetting politeness, and you must be tired with your long journey.’
”‘When did you arrive?’
”‘Only last night,’ said Nanette. ‘But I am not tired now. ”

“ We have always been plain, honest farmers, we Marcels—and my mother’s people, the Laurents, too!”
“Some one told me once,” said Edmée, who, her work finished, was standing thoughtfully contemplating the effect of the pretty wreath round the little face, “some one told me once, or I dreamt it, that the little old portrait was that of a great-grandmother of ours. I wonder if it is true? If all our people have always been farmers I don’t see how it can be, for that little girl doesn’t look like a farmer’s daughter—and besides, they wouldn’t have made a grand picture of her in that case.” ”

“ It is nearly forty years ago that one day a little girl—a very little girl—was playing with a boy a few years older than herself on the terrace in front of the château of Valmont-les-Roses. The château was very old; many generations of Valmonts had played on the same old terrace—had grown to be men and women, and found there were many things besides playing to be done in the world—had passed through the busy noontime of life, and gradually down the hill to old age and peaceful death. ”

“ Madame Guillotine will tell you; she’s the only Madame now!’
”‘Are they all dead?’ said Pierre, in a voice he would hardly have known for his own, and which struck even the half-crazed old hag with a sort of pity.
”‘How should I know?’ she said. ‘And what does it matter? You’re no aristocrat—why should you care? Stay! I heard tell—what was it then? They let the little lady go—that was it, I think. A nice little lady too, if she hadn’t been one of the cursed breed. Many’s the silver piece she’s given me as she passed. ”

“ I am an ignorant man—less taught than you—but I have the training of age, and have learnt to keep cool and quiet when your fiery young tongue would be getting you into trouble. No, stay you here and take care of your mother, and I will go where it is my duty to go. To-morrow we will talk over about when I should start. I should like to hear what Nanette Delmar thinks about it,’ and with these words he rose from his chair, but stiffly and with difficulty; his wife and Pierre both noticed it more than heretofore. He was not the man he had been. ”