MLLE. BARBE.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4282, 18 April 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

MLLE. BARBE.

A earriago and pair, with servants in green liveries, the whole concern, somewhat frayed and worn in its magnificence, drove in one summer afternoon to the old town of Saiiit-Jcan-sur-I,oir. Tho dark narrows streets were full of life ; the Place before

the Cathedral was crowded with stalls, carts,,umbrellas and peoplo. On the Cathodral steps two stout citizens in white waistcoats wero standing, each of them umbrella in hand, talking over with some excitement the latest news from Paris—the possibility of war ; for this was market-day in the first, week of July, 1870.

There were four people in the carriage ; a pale Httlo lady in black, with an elderly Abbe beside her, who talked to her unceasingly, and two young men smartly dressed, as if for a visit of ceremony. One of these seemed plunged in gloom." Though handsome, he was not nearly such a pleasant object as his brother, who smiled a groat deal, and sometimes mado a joke in a low voice. Perhaps his jokes had malico in them, which naturally made them unpalatable to the gloomy one. For instance, as they drove through the market, place, the lively brother drew attention to those two worthies on the Cathedral steps

'Look. Charles—quick—there is your father-in-law!' M. Charles frowned severely. ' Hush, I believe it is !' he said, in a tone of horror. 'There he is. He sees us; he is coming,' the Abbo was saying at the same moment to the lady beside him. 'Come, come, Charles, M. Daval is an excellent man.' Tho Abbe showed a littlo irritation. Madame de Mesnil threw a glance at hex son, in which anger and amusement and pity were oddly mixod together. 'Do you see, Charles ?' sho said. 'There is M.Duval.' . < I see M. Duval, mother,' replied the melancholy Charles. . Tho carriage stopped, nnd M. Duval came up to it, ln's red face beaming, his shiny hat flourished away from bis shiny bald head. There was a groat bowing and introducing and complimenting.' It ! was the A bbo-s business to fuse these discordant elements, these families of noble and bourgeois, which were about to ally themselves for mutual benefit. The Abbe from his position, understood both sides loved both, was angry with both. He in the depths of his heart was ready to punch M. Duval for his vulgar, boastful satisfaction, as well as Charles for his glum and haughty lncliilerAfter some talk, in tho eyes of all tho admiring market, the two young men got put of the carriage, and M. Duval was obliged to obey Mudanu'de Mwnil by getting in: I The Abbo gave him his place. It was a fine

event for th-.- fat li tie citizen to dasli through his native >lm Is by the side of n '"our.lo-s This wa« :he reward of a _oi«l C.-dholio, a Legitimi-r, s.i long soliiary all I he Republic;.n ;!Pi:i rmpci-hIM townsfolk. They would h t rive hi-vain public o.'li.T at Faint J-.-in sur-l.oir. Wha' did [hat matter, when t lu l oldest family in Ihe province stretched out a hand to him, and chose his only d:>-.«rhlrr,- l lie heiress of his !,:■.-,!- ---earned millions, to lie the wife of its head ? This the doing of t hat go-,d Abbe who had beer, confident billy employed by Madame de Mesnil to find a wife for her. son. M. Duval was so nine': excited that, he did not even know which of I he two young men was his future son-in-law. Charles, who was Comlo de Mesnil to the ends of his hair, and Louis, quite contented with his younger position, would have been equally surprised at this confusion in the brain of M. Duval.

The young men meekly followed their mother's carriage 1 hroueih the streets, and out into the suburb of ot. Martin where all the rich and fashionable people lived. Charles made no attempt to escape from his fate, though ho had several chances of doing so. For they crossed the river, they passed the railway station, where were cabs in abundance, a train for Paris was just starting. The young Count, however, seemed to feel nothing but a stern resignation. He had oven arranged his future life according to necessity.

' This poor demoiselle will find Mesnil a desperately dull place, after all the distractions of her town,' remarked Louis, as they passed some public gardens where a band was playing opera music.

' There will be inonoy,' said Charles, grimly. ' fhe can live where sho pleases, and I loo—l shall live whero I please.'

' She may prefer Mesnil after all.' ' I hope not. I hope she will prefer Trouville or Biarrits, with Paris in tho intervals. The gayer she is the belter I shall be pleased. The less I sec of her the happier I shall be. A person who wishes to live with us at tbe chateau —a person brought up by M. Duval, do you see—would be past endurance.'

' M. Duval is a good Catholic, a steady old fellow. I fear she may be respectable,' said Louis.

' No, no. In that case I shall refuse to marry her,' said the Comic do Mesnil.

Louis only smiled, for ho was used to his brothor.

ITo was sorry for him too, though be laughed at his oddities. This poor Charles was ono of the quietest and most studious young men in Franco. When not buried among his books, ho was to be found straying alone among tho shady alloys of tho. Park, or in tho woods that clothed the hills about tho chateau. Ho generally carried a gun, but never shot anything. In the evening lie would brighten tip, and entertain his mother with all sorts of odd fancies. Ho was perfectly happy, and wanted no chango. But this sort of life could not goon forever. Tlie family was very poor ; the chateau was falling to ruins. Charles must marry, and he must marry an heiress to retrieve their fallen fortunes. He was obedient, but miserable.! and his dream now was that marriage should make no alteration in his habits; that his wife and he should bo quite independent of. each other, amusing themselves in their; own way, and only meeting now and then. Thus a quiet, domestic woman, who would not care to live away from the Chateau de Mesnil, was a possibility dreaded by Charles. A young bourgeoise, to be enter-' tamed and considered, with the right to follow him even into his library ! How was such a horror to be borne ?

They soon came to M. Duval's house, standing back from the road in a smart English garden, with rows of geraniums and groups of tall elegant shurubs. In the drawing-room they found everybody assembled, sitting in a circle of armchairs 1 with foot-stools before them, and here and there a plant with great red leaves reflected in tho shining floor. Tho two young men took thoir places in the back-ground behind. their mother's chair. She, the Abbe, and M. and Madame Duval wero quite equal to' keeping up tho talk, which flowed in a sparkling stream. Charles and Louis hod nothing to do but to use their eyes, which they did without scruple, not a grimaco of poor Madame Duval's escaping them. Sho was a dark, thin \vomen, with along nose and eager oyes. Most likely, in ordinary life, sho was a sensible woman ; in fact peoplo said that M. Duval's success was greatlyowing to her prudent management. But just now her head was a little turned, like her husband's. She was full of airs and compliments, and mado odd jumps and bounces now and then, as if she would havo darted across to kiss Madame de Mesnil's hand ; but that littlo lady's cool, businesslike manner seemed to discourage any such outburst.

Behind her parents, a curious contrast, sat Mademoiselle Barbe Duval, a tall, round, soft-looking girl, with a pale complexion and large brown eyes, and a quantity of fair hair frizzed over cushions. Apparently she thought the occasion serious. Sho sat motionless, very grave, without a gleam of life or fun anywhere about her. Once she lifted her eyes and stole a look at Charles across the circle. Unfortunately she met his eyes quite full, fixed intently upon her, on which she dropped hers, and gazed at the back of her mother's chair.

This visit had been arranged on purpose that the young people might meet and make acquaintance with each other, all tho opening negotiations having been carried on between their parents with the help of the Abbe. The consent of the two most interested was now the only thing wanting, and that was a matter of form. M. de Mesnil could not. well draw back now that lie had allowed himself to bo offered, and the only feeling possible to Mademoiselle Duval r*as thankfulness for her good fortune. for parents might just as well have married her to some worthy man in their own class, who would certainly have provided himself with a much longer purse that Monsieur de Mesnil's before he presumed to ask for M. Duval's daughter. It was charmingly romantic of tho Duvals to scorn such low allioncos, and to chooso such a son-in-law as Charles —noble, handsome, melancholy, poor. A perfect hero, thought poor Barbe in her enthusiasm. Charles' sulky look only made her say to herself :"He is sad. Ah, what a joy to mako him happy !'

For Barbe, like a sensible, honest girl set a very fair valuo on herself ; and, in her comfortable home, with all its luxuries, conscious too, of satisfaction from Its many looking-glasses, did not at all feel as if she was being lifted from the dust to a throne, (•f course, the future coronet, the Chateau de Mesnil in the distance, added glory and solemnity to these arrangements ; but Parbe was not so much impressed by these things as her father and mother, whose amiable antics were a slight trouble to her at this moment. Sho loved them truly, but!she wished they were a little moro dignified. However, Madame de Mesnil sat there smiling agreeably; the Abbe, that satirical person, looked placid and satisfied. All seemed t.o be going well, only Barbe wished that this hour of trial was over.

By and by, she. hardly know how, Bhe found herself with Charles in tho garden. They wero walking slowly along an alley* of .lime trees, commanded by ono of the drawing-room ; windows. .Charles carried his hut in his hand, Barbe was also bareheaded. For, some moments they had nothing to say to each other. Charles, knowing i what was beforo him, had prepared spooches for several varieties of littlo bourgeois., but none of them' would Biiit Mademoiselle. Duval;. sho was too serene, too natural, too gruve.. • Charles was not suro that she was. not too handsome and too charming. These doubts were no comfort to him, however they upset all; his arrangements. A woman; like this would interfere with him terribly. She could never be packed off to amuse herself at a watering-place, or bundled away into some corner at home. ~ What was to; be done with her? Charles felt savuge'and bit the top of his cane.

' What do yon think about war, mon sicur ?' said Barbe, in a calm sweet voice ' Do you wish for it ?'

' Yes. mademoiselle, «ith ail my heart We are sui-e lo heat the Prussian* ; besides one can volunteer, and have the chance ol dying in a satisfactory way.'

'diaries spoke with a sort, of desperate irrimness. It did not appear to strike Barbe that he oni;ht, under pi-cent circumstances, to have wished for life, not death.

'Ah, you,' she said. 'Of course war must he terrible, but, il. is grand too ; and tho music u'ives one such a glorious feeling. I have often wished to boa soldier. However lb re is one thing a poor girl can do for our heroes *

'No doubt you pray for them mademoi sidle,' said Charles, rather more politely ' If this war comes, and I volunteer—'

1 Praying is no doubt a beautiful thing,' said Barbe ; ' but as long as one is in tho vrorld, one must, work too ; forinstancc, there are tho hospitals. I love, beyond everything else, to nurse the sick. I have learnt in our hospital here at Saint-Jean. The dear Sisters have taught mc everything they know, and we are hoping that, if the war comes, some wounded men will be sent here. When we aro nursing them, we shall feel as if we were fighting f- ! Kr-n.-v '

' You, madem-isri!(; >\\\b those hands!' repeated Charles, who ,-oiih] hardly believe his ears.

' These hands ?' repeated Barbe, holding them up. ' Why not ?' They arc stvong, and I have been taught, to use I hem.'

' Indeed, mademoiselle ! 'then you prefer tho corporal works of mercy.'

' I am not worthy of the spiritual,' said Barbe gravely. ' I do not sec how ono could live without doing good to somebody. Is it notour duty, monsieur, to love everybody ?'

'So they say, mademoiselle' '.And how can wo poor women show our lore except by working with our hands ?'

Charles smiled a littlo. Tt was becoming absurd to hear this rich young girl talk os if she was a poor seamstress. He werceived that she was an enthusiastic, tote-exaltee person, with voguo ideas of general fraternity, and doing good to all mankind. Ho was interested in spite of himself, nover having beard a girl talk in this strain before, and after a momont's thought lie went on drawing Iter out with a condescension Mint surprised himself. It was not difficult to draw her out. All her own peoplo knew that sho whs silent and talkutive by fits. Now, after tho long silence in the saloon, sho chattered with a will, and with a somewhat provincial interest in her own concerns, told Charles all about her daily lif'j, her occupations, her opinions. No embarrassment clouded her sweet face and open manner. She seemed to have forgotten the position, the object and meaning of this interview. Charles, with a certain gentle chivalry, took care not to remind her of it; yet one cannot say that he enjoyed all he heard. Madamoisello Duval seemed to him to be possessed with a very madness of charity. Her sentiments wero so primitiv ly Christian as to be almost communistic. Hie was ready, indeed, to confess, when Charles hinti d the question, that sho thought a Republic tho justest and most beautiful form of government, Charles received this horrible confession very quietly. Afterward Barbe repented of her candor with tears, but at the tiaio sho had no idea of giving offence. She thought, in fact, that this grave youngman sympathized with her, and presently asked him innocently whether he often visited the peasants ? ■ 'Who? I? Never!' said Charles shivering. . ' Do not you like them ?' ' I detest them.' 'Ah ! Then what do you do all day ?' 'I read.' ' From morning till night ?' ' Yes. I read.' 'Is it possible ! But what good does that do ?' said this-strange young parson. ' Good ! I don't know. Yes, it does a great deal of good to myself. A man's first duty is to himself.' 'Is it? Ah, you do not really mean that,' said Barbo, with a smilo and a sigh. ' Excuse mc madomoiselle ; I mean it most entirely. It was not by my own choice that I came into this world full of miseries, and Iquite decline to occupy myself with them. Our views on this subject are opposite.' ' If you mean what you say ' ' I am speaking as truly as you spoke just now.' Barbe was going to plunge into a further argument, when something suddenly reminded her that Bhe and Charles were supposed to be making up their minds to marry each other. This reminder was the appearance, at the other end of the alley, of Madame do Mesnil, tho Abbe, Louis, and her father and mother. She caught herself up, hesitated, blushed scarlet, and walked in silence besides her companion to meet all these peoplo. She did not look particularly happy, and as for Charles, bis gravity was unchanged. Madamo do Mesnil looked at them rathor anxiously, but only said, with her sweetest smilo, that she feared it was time to go ; there was a long drive between them. As soon as the formal farewells wero over, and the party had driven away, M. and Madame Duval pounced upon their daughted. ' Hey, little one, how do you like him ? can ho smile, or is ho too much afraid of wrinkling that handsome face of his ?' ' Ah, you may joke, papa,' says Madame Duval, 'but he is a most majestic young man. After all there is nothing like birth. And madame, his mother is charming. Never mind your old father, my littlo chicken. Do you like him—tcllinc?' 'He smiled once,' said Barbe, smiling herself thoughtfully. She looked at her father and mother with eyes that answered their question quite sufficiently. Then sho strolled out again alone into the alley of limes. That night, her mother, going into her room as usual, found the child crying, not pusionately, but softly and slowly. When Madame Duval insisted tenderly on knowing the cause of those tears Barbo whispered into her ear a confidence: ' Mamma, I like him ; but I don't know that he likes me.' ' Ila, ha, ha!' Madame Duval's peals of laughter mado the room ring. ' Put such fancies away, and go to sleep, my littlo one. M. de Mesnil is a young man -of very good sonse—the thing is all arranged. No doubt of his admiring my beautiful child. I only think she is too good for him.' Under consolation, Burbo presently fell asleep, with fears on her face. (To be continued.)