Fanchette

“ I do not propose to you to do more than pretend.”
He looked stupefied: “I believe you are my true friend indeed,” he stammered; and she laughed, and snapped her fingers in his face, and left him feeling as if he had suddenly pulled up on the brink of an abyss.
A pretended intrigue! The very thought was profanation to his love—an outrage and a shame. But it embodied a quasi-revelation which was even more ashaming. Fanchette knew; his affectation of artless misunderstanding of her hints and innuendoes was exposed, and finally, for the guilty sham it was. ”

“ The room was ready, the dinner done to a turn, Fanchette was even beginning to grumble about the delay of the train, when someone knocked at the door.
"It is he," said the servant, hobbling to the entrance.
At the end of the corridor, her black dress scarcely distinguishable in the growing darkness, the mother was holding her breath, more affected than if she were seeing her child recover from a serious illness. All at once a "Good day, Fanchette," sincere and clear as usual, reassured her. The dear boy could not have changed very much.
"Albert, it is you?" ”

“ Flore, a born fryer and roaster, two qualities that can never be acquired by observation nor yet by labor, soon surpassed Fanchette. In making herself a cordon-bleu she was thinking of Jean-Jacques's comfort; though she was, it must be owned, tolerably dainty. Incapable, like all persons without education, of doing anything with her brains, she spent her activity upon household matters. She rubbed up the furniture till it shone, and kept everything about the house in a state of cleanliness worthy of Holland. ”

“ Regarding so little of the past, it was not strange that she never referred to her vanished chief femme de confiance, or appeared to notice that she was deprived of her services. It is even possible that Fanchette might have resumed her place at her side without exciting any repulsion in her. She seemed to bear no one a grudge for what had been, or to discriminate between this and the other in the ruin which had befallen her. She may have surmised who were the chief instruments in that tragedy; she never betrayed by word or look her knowledge of them. ”

“ That date may indicate, to a perspicacious observer, the epoch at which Flore Brazier ceased to be an honest girl.
The Rabouilleuse, clever enough to foresee Fanchette's probable defection,—there is nothing like the exercise of power for teaching policy,—was already resolved to do without a servant. For six months she had studied, without seeming to do so, the culinary operations that made Fanchette a cordon-bleu worthy of cooking for a doctor. In the matter of choice living, doctors are on a par with bishops. The doctor had brought Fanchette's talents to perfection. ”

“ She had no wish, for herself or her lover, to rise to Tiretta’s level; she would have liked dearly to pull him down to theirs. Wherefore, in the prosecution of that amiable design, she had been quite ready to lend herself a subtle instrument to the ruin of that rival favourite. She would even, if provoked to it, have given her body to the task, as she had her soul. To hate and to seduce, to seduce because she hated, to risk loving because she had seduced—that was something her mental attitude. It was the passionist French view, and Fanchette was excessively French. ”

“ Fanchette, in all the pride of her Norman costume, was bringing the little Lucius to bid his mother good-night. Now Fanchette, from his cassock, his sash, his baretta, and the collar which had so puzzled poor Mrs. Dodd, had always looked upon the Reverend Barnes Puffin as a veritable Catholic priest, and [Pg 179] respected him accordingly. She made him a succession of low courtesies, and placing the little Lucius in his mother's arms, she advanced towards the curate in a respectful manner. ”

“ Fanchette one evening was “finishing” her young lady in preparation for a descent to the audience chamber—to which was coming M. du Tillot, Marquis de Felino and Secretary of State—and was taking full advantage of the licence allowed her tongue by a spoiling mistress.
“It is fortunate, is it not, your Highness,” she said, with a little simper, “that somebody whom we know does not approve of rouge for ladies?” ”

“ It has all the efficacy of the other, though at the same time hardly its simplicity. For one thing, one cannot do it alone by oneself; for another, a dose of penance is conditional on the treatment—usually a trifle, but sufficient to leave a taste in one’s mouth. However, it is a useful alternative.
Fanchette’s conscience did not often oppress her; but, on the rare occasions when it did, there was always this means at hand to rid herself of its burden. She would go to the little church in the village, ring up Father Leone, and empty her reservoir of sins upon that good man’s devoted head. ”

“ A red light came to her eyes; the blood-ensign of “women who love brave men,” in Bissy’s creed. She was not going to falter now, or be untrue to her ideal of manliness. Besides, the end justified the means. Taking herself forcibly in hand, she went down the stairs to the door into the corridor.
This was a deserted part of the building, and now even unwontedly quiet by reason of the Infanta’s desire for repose. Thus, and for such purpose, to take advantage of its abandonment might have seemed a double treachery to some people. Such moral niceties were beyond Fanchette’s appreciation. ”

“ The elder of the twain, in her “play-acting frock,” as Aunt Caroline called it, and with her daffodil-colored mane done low down in her neck in a most remarkable simulation of the eighteenth century, by the hand of the incomparable but exacting Fanchette, was enough to haunt any young painter for many days to come. Muffin, too, with her brilliant [350] health and her open manners, with a coloring only less wonderful than that of her sister, and with a physique pure of line and of a spreading stalwart symmetry, looked every inch of her a veritable younger sister of the goddess. ”

“ Fanchette’s assurances that a certain one must sooner or later come to be convinced, and resigned to the thought, of his own impotence; the terror she herself had had that she had been cast off by him because she had been found wanting in the crucial test. If that had been so, his masculine resolution had been no proof against his need of her; and in proportion as he needed her his weakness was a thing for transport. It is characteristic of the needs of lovers that they appear insensible to the fear of, or the reasonable consideration for, any obligations whatsoever outside their own. ”

“ Her relations with the Infanta had long been strained; she was never so gratified as when she could cite evidence of unnaturalness against this natural soul. It is always for such as she to suspect hypocrisy in what is purely genuine.
“Like mistress like Nan.” Amongst those rendered especially captious by the coming event was to be numbered, it seemed, Mademoiselle Becquet. Fanchette bristled with spines; it was dangerous to touch her—almost to approach. ”

“ The servant, while lighting my fire, said his sister had gone to Paris to petition the king, but had done so in vain, because it was said that Peytel was not a brave homme, as this was not his première fois. So that, according to Fanchette’s code of morality, a man may be a brave homme who commits murder only a première fois. ”

“ CHAPTER X. ON THE WING
"Who is going away?" asked Lloyd, one afternoon, of the girls who were sitting in her room, manicuring their nails. "There goes a pile of trunks out to the baggage wagon."
As she spoke, a carriage drove up to the door of the hotel, and Fanchette went out with the poodle in her arms.
"The Sattawhites," answered Eugenia. "There's Howl and Henny climbing into the carriage, and, oh, look, girls! There comes Mrs. Sattawhite herself. I haven't had many glimpses of her. Isn't she gorgeous! You know they had to leave," she continued, turning to the girls. ”

“ She is depriving me of helping to support my own children and without right. It is unfair."
Philippe, whose passion had purified itself in following the brave efforts of Elizabeth, and who was still under the spell of Madame Derize's last wishes, generously desired to bring about a reconciliation and continued the praises which Fanchette had begun. He told of the lives of the two women at Grenoble and Saint Martin, their intimacy, the sacred devotion of the younger, who had changed the last year of the dead woman's life. ”

“ Women, who alone in nature exceed their lords in the gorgeousness of their plumage, found his fine colouring vastly attractive: Fanchette, we know, found it irresistible.
After a short interval the door was opened by Gaspare, the sacristan, who was also general servitor to the meagre household. He was a snuffy old fellow, hoarse-spoken, and with a leery acquisitive eye. He greeted the visitor, with an air as of being on a footing of sly pleasantry with him.
“Ha, signore! ”

“ He is to live in Paris many years. I never loved him, but I am poor, and many women marry only for a home. He offered that and more to me. I would not hear it. Oh! if you had only said one tender word to me in those days of temptation. I begged you for it. When I was humblest at your feet you put your heel upon me most.
"One night when I had the greatest trouble of all he sat beside me and plied his suit, and was pleasanter, my boy, than you have ever been; and then, rising, he placed that box of jewelry in my lap and ran away. I left it upon Fanchette's mantel that night. ”

“ Fanchon turned, caught at a chair-back, and clung to it, laughing wildly.
“You’re so sorry for me—and he loves you!”
“No,” said Virginia, “he shan’t! If he did, it would make no difference. Fanchon, I want you to leave this place and come with me. Let me take care of you. You’re too ill to stand up.”
“To stand up? Why, I’m going to dance for the pictures. You call me ill? I can dance. Attendez!”
She let go of the chair to which she had been clinging, and seemed to listen, her head bent and her brown eyes brilliant, her whole small figure quivering and tense.
“Mon Dieu—I hear it—the music!” ”

“ Fancourt’s caprices. It had been one of her stormiest days, culminating in the discharge of her butler, and the bitterest invectives against the other servants. I had just retired, and had hardly fallen asleep, when the bell over my head rang violently. Springing up, I slipped on a dressing-gown and went downstairs. Mrs. Fancourt was sitting in an easy-chair reading a novel. ”

“ Fanchon’s eyes were closed, and the long, thick lashes made shadows on her white cheeks. There was no sign of makeup now except a touch of the lips that made her mouth look scarlet, in fearful contrast to the whiteness of cheeks and brow and throat. One arm was thrown across the bed and the small hand clasped the crumpled coverlet convulsively, the blue veins showing through its [355] delicate whiteness. Half-clad as she was, Virginia saw how thin were Fanchon’s arms and how slender her neck, delicate and round as the stem of a flower. ”

“ Any girl might be proud to be his daughter.”
Then he left the child alone in the room that was but dimly lighted, and as she sat there waiting the coming of Fanchon, for the very first time in her life she felt a real love and loyalty for that man whom the banker had just praised. How kind he had always been, and how gentle. If—if this cruel, wicked, Mrs. Clayburn was “best families,” she’d rather, oh, a hundred times rather, have her own dear, good father, whatever he was.
Fanchon entered, bearing a tray, and placed it on a low table. ”

“ Neither Fanchon nor Frederic had been paying any attention to her, and the bushes had torn all the clothes off her back; both her legs were broken; while her pretty waxen face was covered with so many scratches that it was hideous to look at.
“Oh! my beautiful, beautiful child!” sobbed Fanchon.
“There, you see what a stupid creature that doll of yours is!” cried Frederic. “She can’t even take a little run, but she must tear and spoil her clothes! Give her to me!”
[Pg 370] And before Fanchon could say a word, or cry: “Oh! Oh!” Frederic snatched the doll, and flung her into the lake. ”

“ Fanchon seemed to feel his thought. His very attitude, aloof and challenging and critical, affected her. She shivered, covering her eyes with her hands.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she cried passionately. “Mon Dieu, I can’t bear it! You—you hate me!”
Daniel reddened; he found himself in an uncomfortable position. Had he shown his hostility so strongly? Had he let this wild young creature see that he felt she was an interloper?
“You’re talking nonsense, Fanchon,” he said gravely. “I hate no one—as far as I can remember. I’m a colorless fellow, you know, and a cripple. I don’t count.” ”

“ Once in awhile I grow desperate and try everything over again. But it is useless. And yet I have a feeling that she will return, and that if she does it will be to this house. So I am just waiting here, waiting—
“Well, John?”
“A lady to see you, sir,” said the butler at the door.
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know, sir; she wouldn’t give any name.”
Fancourt rose and went towards the door; but before he reached it his visitor pushed past the servant and stood,—a tall, veiled figure in black,—clutching nervously at the drapery at the door. Then she threw back her veil. ”

“ To tell the truth, he is a little torn and tattered; he lacks a feather in his tail; he has lost it in battle—unless it was through some bad fairy of the village. Fanchon has her suspicions he is a naughty bird. But she is a girl, and she does not mind her jack-sparrow being a trifle headstrong, if only he has a kind heart. She pets him and calls him pretty names. Suddenly he begins to grow bigger; his body gets longer; his wings turn into two arms; he is a boy, and Fanchon knows who he is—Antoine, the gardener’s little lad, who asks her:
“Shall we go and play together, shall we, Fanchon?” ”