Petite Jeanne

“ One could see plainly enough that Jeanne was not thinking of the money at all, but of the strange circumstances that had brought this unusual opportunity to her door.
“To be some one else for two whole weeks,” she was saying to herself. “To forget that Petite Jeanne lives at all. To act in the movies when one has never crossed a movie lot before. It seems quite impossible. ”

“ She’s bony. Maybe she works too hard and eats too little.” These thoughts, flashing through the little French girl’s keen mind for the moment, drove all thought of her plight out of her head. For those eyes, those smiling Irish eyes, were the sort that take hearts captive. Petite Jeanne was a willing captive. ”

“ She had lived long with the gypsies, had Petite Jeanne. How could she escape believing? And, after all, who would wish to escape? Who is there in all the world that cares to say, “I know all about these things. There is no truth in them?”
Anyway, here was Madame Bihari, Danby Force, Petite Jeanne. Here were the dancing shadows. There were the cards. And there—Jeanne caught her breath. Yes, there was the man in evening dress. There was card number 19. Every card placed close to him must have a very special meaning. Leaning back into the shadows, she waited. ”

“ Jeanne grasped his arm.
“You see,” she explained, “they thought I was some one else.”
“This LeMar person? Well, ain’t you?”
“No, I’m not, really.” She gave him a knowing look. “I’m just Petite Jeanne, the little French girl who lived with Bihari the gypsy. You know that, Pat. You’ve known it quite a long while.
[129]
“All the same,” she added hastily, “if you see Lorena LeMar, who looks just like me, having any trouble, you just march right up and say: ‘What’s all this about?’ Will you?” She gave his arm a squeeze and was gone.
Dashing to a corner she boarded a bus and was whirled away. ”

“ So with the strange and poetical Jeanne, too innately refined to prosper in her rough human environment, yet too fixedly simple to fare much better in more cultivated circles. She is the victim of a sort of celestial stupidity we admire and pity at once. In this study of a peasant heroine resides such charm as the book possesses, and the attempt was to lead on the author to the productions above alluded to, La Mare au Diable, François le Champi, and La Petite Fadette. ”

“ Seeking a dark corner, she closed her eyes. Allowing her head to drop forward, she stood like one in prayer. Did she pray, or did she but surrender her soul and body to the forces of nature all about her? Who can say but that these two are the same, or at least that their effect is the same? However that may be, it was a changed Jeanne who, three minutes later, took up her post of duty in the boxes, for hers was the air of a sentry. Her movements were firm and steady, the look upon her face as calm as the reflection of the moon upon a still pool at midnight. ”

“ A shadow came into Jeanne's eyes. She motioned him to a seat beside her in front of the fire. Her nearness, the touch of her dress, the sweet perfume of her presence, thrilled him. He felt that the moment was near when the whole world as he knew it was to slip away from him, leaving him in a paradise, or a chaos of despair. Jeanne looked up at the dueling pistols. The firelight trembled in the soft folds of lace over her bosom; it glistened in her hair, and lighted her face with a gentle glow. ”

“ He loves me unless you have stolen his heart with some evil charm. Stand up; see. I am as tall as you. My skin is fine and clear, if not as pale as the white faces; and yours—pouf! you have no rose in your cheeks. Is not my mouth made for kisses? I like those that burn as fire running through your veins. And my hand—" she caught Jeanne's hand and compared them. "It is as slim and soft, and the pink is under the nails. ”

“ The only thing that ever made Jeanne really sorry for her naughty tricks was when Madame de Silly talked to her about her mother, whom the child loved deeply, though she saw her so seldom. To grow up like her was Jeanne's great wish, even when she was quite a baby; and as her mother loved the king, her uncle, so much, why, of course, she must love him too. Every now and then Francis I. sent for her to the palace of St. Germain, to play with her cousins, Princess Madeleine, who was afterwards to be queen of Scotland, and Marguérite, the future duchess of Savoy. ”

“ Every one must know the truth at once."
"And how, may I ask, do you propose to live?" the Princess asked quietly.
"If there is nothing left at all of my money," Jeanne said, "I will work. If it is the worst which comes, I will go back to the convent and teach the children."
The Princess laughed softly.
"Jeanne," she said, "you are talking like a positive idiot. It is because you have had no time to think this thing out. Remember that after all you are not sailing under any false colours. You are your father's daughter, and you are also his heiress. ”

“ Jeanne could build a fire. This is an art known to all wanderers, and she had been a gypsy. But she lacked the will to put her skill to the test, so, quite in despair, she threw herself in a chair and lay there, looking for all the world like a deserted French doll, as she whispered to herself:
“What can it matter? Life is without a true purpose, all life. Why should one struggle? Why not go down with the tide? Why—”
But in one short moment all this was changed. The door flew open. Florence burst into the room and with her came a whole gust of fresh lake air, or so it seemed to Jeanne. ”

“ She spent her days in watching over her return to health, rejoicing in a shade of bright color returning to her cheeks, in a lively look, or in a gesture of gladness. Every hour made her daughter more like what she had been of old, with lovely eyes and wavy hair. The slower Jeanne’s recovery, the greater joy was yielded to Hélène, who recalled the olden days when she had suckled her, and, as she gazed on her gathering strength, felt even a keener emotion than when in the past she had measured her two little feet in her hand to see if she would soon be able to walk. ”

“ She seems intelligent."
"Men never do like Jeanne," she assured him, with a complacent rippling gesture of her flounced body. "She's a dear, but too dreadfully serious. Doesn't like dancing, and all——" waving vaguely in the direction of the club.
"Tell me something about her."
"There isn't much. Jeanne—I love the French twist, don't you?—Jeanne's a queer, dear girl, Pelham; always busy with labor committees, or something as uplifting and tiresome."
"I've never heard of her, except from you. Is she kin to the Andersons?" ”

“ She would say no more, but smoothed Jeanne's soft dark hair, never very untidy it must be owned, for it was always neatly plaited in two tails that hung down her back, as was then the fashion for little girls of Jeanne's age and country, and bade her again not to delay going downstairs.
Jeanne set off. In that great rambling old house it was really quite a journey from her room to her mother's salon. There was the long corridor to pass, at one end of which were Jeanne's quarters, at the other a room which had had for her since her babyhood a mingled fascination and awe. ”

“ Why did he leave her and run away—do you know?’ Jeanne shrugged her ample shoulders. ‘Oh! the old story, Madame,’ she answered, with a short laugh. ‘Who was she?’ asked my friend. ‘The wife of Monsieur Savary, the wheelwright, as good a husband as ever a woman had. It’s been going on for months, the hussy!’ ‘Thank you, that will do, Jeanne.’ She turned again to me so soon as Jeanne had left the room. ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘whenever I see a bad man, I peep round the corner for the woman. Whenever I see a bad woman, I follow her eyes; I know she is looking for her mate. ”

“ Soft-voiced and deft, Jeanne moved incessantly to and fro on those small, neatly-shod feet, which she sometimes compared not uncomplacently with those of her mistress, until, at last, at the latter end of all conceivable fancies there came one for repose,—the rosy curtains were drawn, and Jeanne was free.
Half an hour later a deftly-cloaked figure stood before a table at which a dark-faced man wrote busily—a paper was handed over, a password asked and given.
"Is it enough now?" asked Jeanne the waiting-maid. And the dark-faced man answered, without looking up, "It is enough—the cup is full." ”

“ By the king's orders the marriage festivities were to be on the grandest possible scale, and Marguérite had given special care to Jeanne's dress. The jewels on her long robe of cloth of gold dazzled the eyes of the spectators, and her velvet mantle was broidered with ermine. No wonder that on a hot July day the weight of these clothes felt enormous, and Jeanne had some show of reason on her side when she told her uncle, who came forward to lead her to the altar, that she really could not move from her chair. ”

“ On their very first visit the young peasant maid vowed to them to preserve her virginity as long as it should please God. [278] If there were any meaning in such a promise, Jeanne, however old she may then have been, could not have been quite a child. And it seems probable that the angel and the saints appeared to her first when she was on the threshold of womanhood, that is, if she ever became a woman. ”

“ Her sobs choked her, and throwing down her napkin, she clasped Jeanne in her arms.
“My child! my child!” she wailed, her heart bursting with sorrow, as her eyes ranged round the dining-room where her darling, when in good health, had so often enlivened her by her fondness for tid-bits.
At last Jeanne woke to life again, and strove to smile as of old.
“Don’t worry, mamma,” said she; “I shall be all right soon. Now that you have done you must put me to bed. I only wanted to see you have your dinner. ”

“ Aimée looked at her keenly for some moments with a curious expression on her tightly-folded lips.
"You would have me believe that Marie went into the ravine when she knew the spirits were about, and went on the arm of Geoffroi?"
"I tell you, Grandmère, that she did so. It was Jeanne that compelled her. For Jeanne knows when a man is in league with Them, and she said to Marie, 'Thou wilt wed Antoine, but thou knowest not what he is; go to the Black Stone to-night, and thou shalt see.' H'ch! Jeanne knows nothing, does she? But Marie went, for she knew that Jeanne was wise. ”

“ The girl sprang up and encircled her again.
"I felt bewitched. I did not know what to do, but the poor, trembling little thing was alive, though I did not know whether you were human or not, for there are strange shapes that come in the night, and when once they fasten on you—"
"They never let go," Jeanne laughed gayly. "And I shall never let go of you, Pani. If I had money I should buy you. Or if I were a man I would get the priest to marry us." [6]
"O Mam'selle, that is sinful! An old woman like me! And no one can be bought to-day." ”

“ And the face in the locket seemed to agree with the voice.
"To-night the child stayed in the park with a puppet—the only play toy she has ever had. She fell asleep in front of the Guignol, where happy children [Pg 107] go to clap and laugh. But you give Jeanne no time for play and laughter."
It was all true. But Suzanne knew that if Jeanne stopped showing the clothes she made, her audience would cease to be interested. If she did not draw her audience, she could not sell the clothes. And if she did not sell the clothes, she could not support Jeanne. ”

“ After that experience in the great dome she felt in need of this mild stimulant.
[83]
She was in a state of mellow glow imparted by the tea, when Florence ushered into the now all but empty room a person who on the instant brought a gasp from Jeanne’s pink lips.
For a full moment Jeanne and the stranger stared at one another in amazement.
“You,” said Jeanne at last, “must be I.”
“No,” said the other quite positively, “it is you who are to be some one else. ”

“ She must go to Compiègne. Jeanne was but a young girl. She could not realize that her allotted time was over. It is hard for one to accept the fact one is not needed; that everything can go on as usual without one, and Jeanne was very young. ”

“ In Jeanne, Madame Sand had first ventured to make a peasant-girl the central figure of her novel, though still so far deferring to the received notions of what was essential in order to interest the "gentle" reader as to surround her simple heroine with personages of rank and education. Jeanne herself, moreover, is an exceptional and a highly idealized type—as it were a sister to Joan of Arc, not the inspired warrior-maid, but the visionary shepherdess of the Vosges. Yet the creation is sufficiently real. ”

“ But Jeanne was made to listen in prayer and silence and secrecy and anguish for the word of Heaven. The worst is,”—her stormy sob again shook her from head to foot,—”you will be at court, and beautiful women will love the great explorer. And one will shine; she will be set like a star as high as the height of being your wife. And Jeanne,—oh, Jeanne! here in this rough, new world,—she must eternally learn to be nothing!”
“My wife!” said La Salle, turning her hand in his clasp, and laying his cheek in her palm. “You are my wife. There is no court. There is no world to discover. ”

“ And as she spoke the great French actress seemed to be Jeanne herself. The American soldiers forgot her middle age, her quiet half-mourning costume, and saw that wonderful young peasant girl, first in her peasant’s dress in the woods near her father’s home, listening to her voice. She was only a dreaming girl then, with her short hair, her bare feet and peasant’s smock and those great wide-open gray eyes.
Then Jeanne as a soldier in a suit of armor on her wonderful white horse, riding always in front of her troops to the glory and salvation of France. ”